FullReads

Gannett, who had moved towards her, paused a few feet off.

“Why do you wish me to do this?” he said at length, with less surprise in his voice than she had been prepared for.

“Because I’ve behaved basely, abominably, since we came here: letting these people believe we were married—lying with every breath I drew—”

“Yes, I’ve felt that too,” Gannett exclaimed with sudden energy.

The words shook her like a tempest: all her thoughts seemed to fall about her in ruins.

“You—you’ve felt so?”

“Of course I have.” He spoke with low-voiced vehemence.”Do you suppose I like playing the sneak any better than you do? It’s damnable.”

He had dropped on the arm of a chair, and they stared at each other like blind people who suddenly see.

“But you have liked it here,” she faltered.

“Oh, I’ve liked it—I’ve liked it.” He moved impatiently.”Haven’t you?”

“Yes,” she burst out; “that’s the worst of it—that’s what I can’t bear. I fancied it was for your sake that I insisted on staying—because you thought you could write here; and perhaps just at first that really was the reason. But afterwards I wanted to stay myself—I loved it.” She broke into a laugh.”Oh, do you see the full derision of it? These people—the very prototypes of the bores you took me away from, with the same fenced-in view of life, the same keep-off-the-grass morality, the same little cautious virtues and the same little frightened vices—well, I’ve clung to them, I’ve delighted in them, I’ve done my best to please them. I’ve toadied Lady Susan, I’ve gossiped with Miss Pinsent, I’ve pretended to be shocked with Mrs. Ainger. Respectability! It was the one thing in life that I was sure I didn’t care about, and it’s grown so precious to me that I’ve stolen it because I couldn’t get it any other way.”

She moved across the room and returned to his side with another laugh.

“I who used to fancy myself unconventional! I must have been born with a card-case in my hand. You should have seen me with that poor woman in the garden. She came to me for help, poor creature, because she fancied that, having ‘sinned,’ as they call it, I might feel some pity for others who had been tempted in the same way. Not I! She didn’t know me. Lady Susan would have been kinder, because Lady Susan wouldn’t have been afraid. I hated the woman—my one thought was not to be seen with her—I could have killed her for guessing my secret. The one thing that mattered to me at that moment was my standing with Lady Susan!”

Gannett did not speak.

“And you—you’ve felt it too!” she broke out accusingly.”You’ve enjoyed being with these people as much as I have; you’ve let the chaplain talk to you by the hour about ‘The Reign of Law’ and Professor Drummond. When they asked you to hand the plate in church I was watching you—you wanted to accept. “

She stepped close, laying her hand on his arm.

“Do you know, I begin to see what marriage is for. It’s to keep people away from each other. Sometimes I think that two people who love each other can be saved from madness only by the things that come between them—children, duties, visits, bores, relations—the things that protect married people from each other. We’ve been too close together—that has been our sin. We’ve seen the nakedness of each other’s souls.”

She sank again on the sofa, hiding her face in her hands.

Gannett stood above her perplexedly: he felt as though she were being swept away by some implacable current while he stood helpless on its bank.

At length he said, “Lydia, don’t think me a brute—but don’t you see yourself that it won’t do?”

“Yes, I see it won’t do,” she said without raising her head.

His face cleared.

“Then we’ll go tomorrow.”

“Go—where?”

“To Paris; to be married.”

For a long time she made no answer; then she asked slowly, “Would they have us here if we were married?”

“Have us here?”

“I mean Lady Susan—and the others.”

“Have us here? Of course they would.”

“Not if they knew—at least, not unless they could pretend not to know.”

He made an impatient gesture.

“We shouldn’t come back here, of course; and other people needn’t know—no one need know.”