Part 71 (1/2)
”No one knows but you. You see, she fainted. I always thought she'd come between us, but what queer things G.o.d does!”
His voice rose suddenly, saying, ”Helen, it's unbearable. But you shall not stay here. I shall take you away.”
”There's Notya.”
”Yes.”
”Do you mean--Is she going to die?”
”I don't know. She may not live for long. And if she dies, you shall come away with me. We can go together anywhere in the world. There's no morality and no sense and no justice in such a sacrifice.”
”Oh,” she sighed, ”what peace, if I could go with you!”
”You shall go with me.”
She felt his heart ticking away the seconds. ”But I can't,” she said softly. ”You see, I've married him.”
”Great G.o.d--!”
”I know. But I can't help it. I knew what I was doing. And he needs me.”
”Ah! If he's going to need you--And again, what of my need of you?”
”You're a better man than he is.”
He pushed her from him and went to the window, and she dared not ask him for his thoughts. Perhaps he had none: perhaps, in the waste of snow from which the black trunks of trees stood up, he saw a likeness to his life.
He turned to ask, ”How often does that beast get washed?”
She looked at him vaguely. ”Who?”
”That dog.”
”Oh--once a fortnight.”
”Who does it?”
”John or I.”
”You let him sleep with you?”
”Outside my door.”
”I think he ought to be inside. I'm going over to see John. You can't live here alone. And, Helen, I've not given up my right to you. You shall come to me when Mrs. Caniper sets you free.”
She was standing now, and she answered through stiff lips, ”You mustn't hope for that. You know I told you long ago the kind of woman I am.”
”And you can't change yourself for my sake?”
She moved uneasily. ”I would, so gladly, if I could,” she said, and he shook his head as though he did not believe her.
”But I will not have you and John trying to arrange my life. I choose to be alone. If you interfere--” His look reproached her. ”I'm sorry, Zebedee, but I'm suffering, too, and I know best about George, about myself. After all”--her voice rose and broke--”after all, I've married him! Oh, what a fuss, what a fuss! We make too much of it. We have to bear it. We are not willing to bear anything. Other women, other men, have lost what they loved best. We want too much. We were not meant for happiness.”