Part 26 (1/2)
XIX.
”I MUST BE RICH.”
”While I don't feel dependent upon the owners of the _News-Record_, still I am not exactly independent of them either. And if I left them it would only be to become dependent in the same way upon somebody else. A man who makes his living by the advocacy of principles should be wholly free. If he isn't, the principles are sure sooner or later to become incidental to the living, instead of the living being incidental to the principles.”
”But you see--perhaps I ought to have told you before--that is, there may be”--Marian was stammering and blus.h.i.+ng.
”What's the matter? Don't frighten me by looking so--so criminal,”
Howard laughed.
It was late in August. Marian was visiting Mrs. Brandon at Irvington-on-the-Hudson and she and Howard were driving.
”I never told you. But the fact is”--she hesitated again.
”Is it about your other engagement? You never told me about that--how you broke it off. I don't want you to tell me unless you wish to. You know I never meddle in past matters. I'm simply trying to help you out.”
”Instead, you're making it worse. I'd rather not tell you that if----”
”We'll never speak of it again. And now, what is it that is troubling you?”
”I have been trying to tell you--I wish you wouldn't look at me--I've got a small income--it's really very small.”
”I'm glad to hear it.”
”I was afraid you wouldn't like it. It isn't very big--only about eight thousand a year--some years not so much. But then, if anything happened--we could be--we could live.”
Howard smiled as he looked at her--but not with his eyes.
”I'm glad,” he said. ”It makes me feel safer in several ways. And I'm especially glad that it is not larger than mine. I know it's stupid, as so many of our instincts are; but I should not like to marry a woman who had a larger income than I could earn. I think it is the only remnant I have of the 'lord and master' idea that makes so many men ridiculous.
But we need not let that bother us. Fate has made us about equal in this respect, so unimportant yet so important; and we are each independent of the other. Each will always know that love is the only bond that holds us together.”
They decided that they would live at the rate of about fifteen thousand a year and would put by the rest of their income. She was to undertake the entire management of their home, he transferring his share by check each month.
”And so,” she said, ”we shall never have to discuss money matters.”
”We couldn't,” laughed Howard. ”I don't know anything about them and could not take part in a discussion.”
As they were to be married in November, they planned to take an apartment when Marian came back to town--in late September. She was to attend to the furnis.h.i.+ng and all was to be in readiness by the time they were married. Howard was to get a six weeks' vacation and, as soon as they returned, they were to go to housekeeping.
Her visit to the _News-Record_ office had made a change in her.
Until she met Howard, she had known only the world-that-idles and the world-that-drudges. Howard brought her the first real news of the world-that-works. Of course she knew that there was such a world, but she had confused it with the world-that-drudges. She liked to hear Howard talk about his world, but she thought that his enthusiasm blinded him to the truth of its drudgery; and she often caught herself half regretting that he had to work.
But that vast machine for the swift collecting and distributing of the news of the world had opened her eyes, had made her see her lover and, through him, his life, in a different aspect. She had accepted the supercilious, thoughtless opinion of those about her that the newspaper is a mere purveyor of inaccurate gossip. And while Howard had tried to show her his profession as it was, he had only succeeded in convincing her that he himself had an exalted view of it; a view which she thought creditable to him but wide of the disagreeable truth.
On that trip down-town she had seen ”the press” with the flaws reduced and the merits looming. She had looked into those all-seeing eyes that watch the councils of statesmen and the movements of nations and peoples, yet also note the swing of a murderous knife in an alley of the slums. She had heard that stentorian voice of Publicity, arousing the people of the earth to apprehend, to reflect, to progress.
She had been proud of Howard for his appearance, for what he said and the way he said it. Now she was proud of him for the part he was taking in this wonderful world-that-works. And she would not have confessed to him how insignificant she felt, how weak and worthless.
She thought she was impatient for the time to come when she could learn how to help him in his work, could begin to feel that she too had a real share in it. With what seemed to her most creditable energy and self-sacrifice she tried again to interest herself in newspapers. But the trivial parts bored her; the chronicles of crime repelled her; and the politics and most of the other serious articles were beyond the range of her knowledge or of her interest. ”I shall wait until we are married,” she said, ”then he will teach me.” And she did not suspect how significant, how ominous her postponement was.
She asked him if he would not teach her and he replied: ”Why, certainly, if you are interested. But I don't intend to trouble you with the details of my profession. I want you to lead your own life--to do what interests you.”