CHAPTER XXIII

Margarethadnointentionoflettingthingsslide,andtheeveningbeforesheleftSwanageshegavehersisterathoroughscolding.Shecensuredher,notfordisapprovingoftheengagement,butforthrowingoverherdisapprovalaveilofmystery.Helenwasequallyfrank.“Yes,”shesaid,withtheairofonelookinginwards,“thereisamystery.Ican’thelpit.It’snotmyfault.It’sthewaylifehasbeenmade.”Heleninthosedayswasover-interestedinthesubconsciousself.SheexaggeratedthePunchandJudyaspectoflife,andspokeofmankindaspuppets,whomaninvisibleshowmantwitchesintoloveandwar.Margaretpointedoutthatifshedweltonthisshe,too,wouldeliminatethepersonal.Helenwassilentforaminute,andthenburstintoaqueerspeech,whichclearedtheair.“Goonandmarryhim.Ithinkyou’resplendidandifanyonecanpullitoff,youwill.”Margaretdeniedthattherewasanythingto“pulloff,”butshecontinued:“Yes,thereis,andIwasn’tuptoitwithPaul.Icandoonlywhat’seasy.Icanonlyenticeandbeenticed.Ican’t,andwon’t,attemptdifficultrelations.IfImarry,itwilleitherbeamanwho’sstrongenoughtobossmeorwhomI’mstrongenoughtoboss.SoIshan’tevermarry,fortherearen’tsuchmen.AndHeavenhelpanyonewhomIdomarry,forIshallcertainlyrunawayfromhimbeforeyoucansay‘JackRobinson.’There!BecauseI’muneducated.Butyou,you’redifferentyou’reaheroine.” “Oh,Helen!AmI?WillitbeasdreadfulforpoorHenryasallthat?” “Youmeantokeepproportion,andthat’sheroic,it’sGreek,andIdon’tseewhyitshouldn’tsucceedwithyou.Goonandfightwithhimandhelphim.Don’taskmeforhelp,orevenforsympathy.HenceforwardI’mgoingmyownway.Imeantobethorough,becausethoroughnessiseasy.Imeantodislikeyourhusband,andtotellhimso.ImeantomakenoconcessionstoTibby.IfTibbywantstolivewithme,hemustlumpme.Imeantoloveyoumorethanever.Yes,Ido.YouandIhavebuiltupsomethingreal,becauseitispurelyspiritual.There’snoveilofmysteryoverus.Unrealityandmysterybeginassoonasonetouchesthebody.Thepopularviewis,asusual,exactlythewrongone.Ourbothersareovertangiblethings—money,husbands,house-hunting.ButHeavenwillworkofitself.” Margaretwasgratefulforthisexpressionofaffection,andanswered,“Perhaps.”Allvistascloseintheunseen—noonedoubtsit—butHelenclosedthemrathertooquicklyforhertaste.Ateveryturnofspeechonewasconfrontedwithrealityandtheabsolute.PerhapsMargaretgrewtoooldformetaphysics,perhapsHenrywasweaningherfromthem,butshefeltthattherewassomethingalittleunbalancedinthemindthatsoreadilyshredsthevisible.Thebusinessmanwhoassumesthatthislifeiseverything,andthemysticwhoassertsthatitisnothing,fail,onthissideandonthat,tohitthetruth.“Yes,Isee,dearit’sabouthalf-waybetween,”AuntJuleyhadhazardedinearlieryears.Notruth,beingalive,wasnothalf-waybetweenanything.Itwasonlytobefoundbycontinuousexcursionsintoeitherrealm,andthoughproportionisthefinalsecret,toespouseitattheoutsetistoinsuresterility. Helen,agreeinghere,disagreeingthere,wouldhavetalkedtillmidnight