merits . . . irrespective of stupid conventionalities
. . . I mean, each woman’s right to her
liberty—” He pulled himself up, startled
by the turn his thoughts had taken, and went on, looking
at her with a smile: “Since you understand
so many things, dearest, can’t you go a little
farther, and understand the uselessness of our submitting
to another form of the same foolish conventionalities?
If there’s no one and nothing between us, isn’t
that an argument for marrying quickly, rather than
for more delay?”
She flushed with joy and lifted her face to his; as
he bent to it he saw that her eyes were full of happy
tears. But in another moment she seemed to have
descended from her womanly eminence to helpless and
timorous girlhood; and he understood that her courage
and initiative were all for others, and that she had
none for herself. It was evident that the effort
of speaking had been much greater than her studied
composure betrayed, and that at his first word of
reassurance she had dropped back into the usual, as
a too-adventurous child takes refuge in its mother’s
arms.
Archer had no heart to go on pleading with her; he
was too much disappointed at the vanishing of the new
being who had cast that one deep look at him from her
transparent eyes. May seemed to be aware of his
disappointment, but without knowing how to alleviate
it; and they stood up and walked silently home.
“Your cousin the Countess called on mother while
you were away,” Janey Archer announced to her
brother on the evening of his return.
The young man, who was dining alone with his mother
and sister, glanced up in surprise and saw Mrs. Archer’s
gaze demurely bent on her plate. Mrs. Archer
did not regard her seclusion from the world as a reason
for being forgotten by it; and Newland guessed that
she was slightly annoyed that he should be surprised
by Madame Olenska’s visit.
“She had on a black velvet polonaise with jet
buttons, and a tiny green monkey muff; I never saw
her so stylishly dressed,” Janey continued.
“She came alone, early on Sunday afternoon;
luckily the fire was lit in the drawing-room.
She had one of those new card-cases. She said
she wanted to know us because you’d been so
good to her.”
Newland laughed. “Madame Olenska always
takes that tone about her friends. She’s
very happy at being among her own people again.”
“Yes, so she told us,” said Mrs. Archer.
“I must say she seems thankful to be here.”
“I hope you liked her, mother.”
Mrs. Archer drew her lips together. “She
certainly lays herself out to please, even when she
is calling on an old lady.”
“Mother doesn’t think her simple,”
Janey interjected, her eyes screwed upon her brother’s
face.
“It’s just my old-fashioned feeling; dear
May is my ideal,” said Mrs. Archer.
“Ah,” said her son, “they’re
not alike.”
