New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Psychological fiction; Single women -- Fiction; Social classes -- Fiction
“You know I can coax the water to boil in five minutes,” Selden
continued, speaking as though she were a troubled child.
His words recalled the vision of that other afternoon when they
had sat together over his tea-table and talked jestingly of her
future. There were moments when that day seemed more remote than
any other event in her life; and yet she could always relive it in
its minutest detail.
She made a gesture of refusal. “No: I drink too much tea. I would
rather sit quiet—I must go in a moment,” she added confusedly.
Selden continued to stand near her, leaning against the
mantelpiece. The tinge of constraint was beginning to be more
distinctly perceptible under the friendly ease of his manner. Her
self-absorption had not allowed her to perceive it at first; but
now that her consciousness was once more putting forth its eager
feelers, she saw that her presence was becoming an embarrassment
to him. Such a situation can be saved only by an immediate outrush
of feeling; and on Selden’s side the determining impulse was still
lacking.
The discovery did not disturb Lily as it might once have done.
She had passed beyond the phase of well-bred reciprocity, in
which every demonstration must be scrupulously proportioned to
the emotion it elicits, and generosity of feeling is the only
ostentation condemned. But the sense of loneliness returned with
redoubled force as she saw herself forever shut out from Selden’s
inmost self. She had come to him with no definite purpose; the mere
longing to see him had directed her; but the secret hope she had
carried with her suddenly revealed itself in its death-pang.
“I must go,” she repeated, making a motion to rise from her chair.
“But I may not see you again for a long time, and I wanted to
tell you that I have never forgotten the things you said to me at
Bellomont, and that sometimes—sometimes when I seemed farthest from
remembering them—they have helped me, and kept me from mistakes;
kept me from really becoming what many people have thought me.”
Strive as she would to put some order in her thoughts, the words
would not come more clearly; yet she felt that she could not leave
him without trying to make him understand that she had saved
herself whole from the seeming ruin of her life.
A change had come over Selden’s face as she spoke. Its guarded look
had yielded to an expression still untinged by personal emotion,
but full of a gentle understanding.
“I am glad to have you tell me that; but nothing I have said has
really made the difference. The difference is in yourself—it will
always be there. And since it IS there, it can’t really matter
to you what people think: you are so sure that your friends will
always understand you.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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