CHAPTER XXI. REACTION.

Yetthreedays,andthenImustgobacktothepensionnat.IalmostnumberedthemomentsofthesedaysupontheclockfainwouldIhaveretardedtheirflightbuttheyglidedbywhileIwatchedthem:theywerealreadygonewhileIyetfearedtheirdeparture. “Lucywillnotleaveusto-day,”saidMrs.Bretton,coaxinglyatbreakfast“sheknowswecanprocureasecondrespite.” “IwouldnotaskforoneifImighthaveitforaword,”saidI.“Ilongtogetthegood-byover,andtobesettledintheRueFossetteagain.Imustgothismorning:Imustgodirectlymytrunkispackedandcorded.” Itappearedhowever,thatmygoingdependeduponGrahamhehadsaidhewouldaccompany,me,anditsofelloutthathewasengagedallday,andonlyreturnedhomeatdusk.Thenensuedalittlecombatofwords.Mrs.Brettonandhersonpressedmetoremainonenightmore.Icouldhavecried,soirritatedandeagerwasItobegone.Ilongedtoleavethemasthecriminalonthescaffoldlongsfortheaxetodescend:thatis,Iwishedthepangover.HowmuchIwishedit,theycouldnottell.Onthesepoints,minewasastateofmindoutoftheirexperience. ItwasdarkwhenDr.JohnhandedmefromthecarriageatMadameBeck’sdoor.ThelampabovewaslititrainedaNovemberdrizzle,asithadrainedallday:thelamplightgleamedonthewetpavement.Justsuchanightwasitasthatonwhich,notayearago,Ihadfirststoppedatthisverythresholdjustsimilarwasthescene.Irememberedtheveryshapesofthepaving-stoneswhichIhadnotedwithidleeye,while,withathick-beatingheart,IwaitedtheunclosingofthatdooratwhichIstood—asolitaryandasuppliant.Onthatnight,too,Ihadbrieflymethimwhonowstoodwithme.HadIeverremindedhimofthatrencontre,orexplainedit?Ihadnot,noreverfelttheinclinationtodoso:itwasapleasantthought,laidbyinmyownmind,andbestkeptthere. Grahamrungthebell.Thedoorwasinstantlyopened,foritwasjustthatperiodoftheeveningwhenthehalf-boarderstooktheirdeparture—consequently,Rosinewasonthealert. “Don’tcomein,”saidItohimbuthesteppedamomentintothewell-lightedvestibule.Ihadnotwishedhimtoseethat“thewaterstoodinmyeyes,”forhiswastookindanatureevertobeneedlesslyshownsuchsignsofsorrow.Healwayswishedtoheal—torelieve—when,physicianashewas,neithercurenoralleviationwere,perhaps,inhispower. “Keepupyourcourage,Lucy.Thinkofmymotherandmyselfastruefriends.Wewillnotforgetyou.” “NorwillIforgetyou,Dr.John.” Mytrunkwasnowbroughtin.Wehadshakenhandshehadturnedtogo,buthewasnotsatisfied:hehadnotdoneorsaidenoughtocontenthisgenerousimpulses. “Lucy,”—steppingafterme—“shallyoufeelverysolitaryhere?” “AtfirstIshall.” “Well,mymotherwillsooncalltoseeyouand,meantime,I’lltellyouwhatI’lldo.I’llwrite—justanycheerfulnonsensethatcomesintomyhead—shallI?” “Good,gallantheart!”thoughtItomyselfbutIshookmyhead,smiling,andsaid,“Neverthinkofit:imposeonyourselfnosuchtask.Youwritetome!—you’llnothavetime.” “Oh!Iwillfindormaketime.Good-by!” Hewasgone.Theheavydoorcrashedto:theaxehadfallen—thepangwasexperienced. Allowingmyselfnotimetothinkorfeel—swallowingtearsasiftheyhadbeenwine—IpassedtoMadame’ssitting-roomtopaythenecessaryvisitofceremonyandrespect.Shereceivedmewithperfectlywell-actedcordiality—wasevendemonstrative,thoughbrief,inherwelcome.IntenminutesIwasdismissed.Fromthesalle-à-mangerIproceededtotherefectory,wherepupilsandteacherswerenowassembledforeveningstudy:againIhadawelcome,andonenot,Ithink,quitehollow.Thatover,Iwasfreetorepairtothedormitory. “AndwillGrahamreallywrite?”Iquestioned,asIsanktiredontheedgeofthebed. Reason,comingstealthilyuptomethroughthetwilightofthatlong,dimchamber,whisperedsedately—“Hemaywriteonce.Sokindishisnature,itmaystimulatehimforoncetomaketheeffort.Butitcannotbecontinued—itmaynotberepeated.Greatwerethatfollywhichshouldbuildonsuchapromise—insanethatcredulitywhichshouldmistakethetransitoryrain-pool,holdinginitshollowonedraught,fortheperennialspringyieldingthesupplyofseasons.” Ibentmyhead:Isatthinkinganhourlonger.Reasonstillwhisperedme,layingonmyshoulderawitheredhand,andfrostilytouchingmyearwiththechillbluelipsofeld. “If,”mutteredshe,“ifheshouldwrite,whatthen?Doyoumeditatepleasureinreplying?Ah,fool!Iwarnyou!Briefbeyouranswer.Hopenodelightofheart—noindulgenceofintellect:grantnoexpansiontofeeling—giveholidaytonosinglefaculty:dallywithnofriendlyexchange:fosternogenialintercommunion….” “ButIhavetalkedtoGrahamandyoudidnotchide,”Ipleaded. “No,”saidshe,“Ineedednot.Talkforyouisgooddiscipline.Youconverseimperfectly.Whileyouspeak,therecanbenooblivionofinferiority—noencouragementtodelusion:pain,privation,penurystampyourlanguage….” “But,”Iagainbrokein,“wherethebodilypresenceisweakandthespeechcontemptible,surelytherecannotbeerrorinmakingwrittenlanguagethemediumofbetterutterancethanfalteringlipscanachieve?” Reasononlyanswered,“Atyourperilyoucherishthatidea,orsufferitsinfluencetoanimateanywritingofyours!” “ButifIfeel,mayIneverexpress?” “Never!”declaredReason. Igroanedunderherbittersternness.Never—never—oh,hardword!Thishag,thisReason,wouldnotletmelookup,orsmile,orhope:shecouldnotrestunlessIwerealtogethercrushed,cowed,broken-in,andbroken-down.Accordingtoher,Iwasbornonlytoworkforapieceofbread,toawaitthepainsofdeath,andsteadilythroughalllifetodespond.Reasonmightberightyetnowonderwearegladattimestodefyher,torushfromunderherrodandgiveatruanthourtoImagination—hersoft,brightfoe,oursweetHelp,ourdivineHope.Weshallandmustbreakboundsatintervals,despitetheterriblerevengethatawaitsourreturn.Reasonisvindictiveasadevil:formeshewasalwaysenvenomedasastep-mother.IfIhaveobeyedherithaschieflybeenwiththeobedienceoffear,notoflove.LongagoIshouldhavediedofherill-usageherstint,herchill,herbarrenboard,hericybed,hersavage,ceaselessblowsbutforthatkinderPowerwhoholdsmysecretandswornallegiance.OftenhasReasonturnedmeoutbynight,inmid-winter,oncoldsnow,flingingforsustenancethegnawedbonedogshadforsaken:sternlyhasshevowedherstoresheldnothingmoreforme—harshlydeniedmyrighttoaskbetterthings….Then,lookingup,haveIseenintheskyaheadamidstcirclingstars,ofwhichthemidmostandthebrightestlentaraysympatheticandattent.Aspirit,softerandbetterthanHumanReason,hasdescendedwithquietflighttothewaste—bringingallroundherasphereofairborrowedofeternalsummerbringingperfumeofflowerswhichcannotfade—fragranceoftreeswhosefruitislifebringingbreezespurefromaworldwhosedayneedsnosuntolightenit.Myhungerhasth