Imagined Selves. Willa MuirЧитать онлайн книгу.
but I know John isn’t at all pleased with his work, and this is the second time already that Hector has been violently drunk since you were married.’
Is it my fault? thought Elizabeth, her temper rising.
‘Hector likes excitement,’ she objected. ‘Perhaps he needs it. He hasn’t been accustomed to office work, and there isn’t much excitement to be got in this town. As for me, I can go for long walks and read, but Hector —’
Nonsense! said Janet Shand to herself angrily. She was angry with Hector too, but Elizabeth had no right to be so slack with him. She had no sense of her duties to her husband.
But her anger lessened as she peered at the girl’s face. In spite of her casual, cheerful air Elizabeth was looking worn. Aunt Janet recovered herself.
‘Well, well, you look as if you hadn’t slept,’ she said as kindly as she could. ‘When did Hector come home, my dear?’
‘Not so very late – about one o’clock. But we didn’t get to sleep till after five.’
Elizabeth stared into the fire and suddenly smiled, reminiscently, it seemed to the watching old woman. She felt a pang of jealousy. Hector had been used to confess his sins and seek absolution in her lap; but now he was in the power of this strange girl.
‘You have a great influence over him, my dear Elizabeth,’ she said solemnly. ‘You must try to use it properly.’
‘He has a great influence over me, Aunt Janet.’
Janet Shand asked the question she had been longing to ask for months:
‘Why did you marry him, Elizabeth?’
Elizabeth’s blush mounted as usual till her ears were burning. She hated it; she wished she could control her blood.
‘Because I was madly in love with him – and I still am, and I shall be always.’
Her answer was almost defiant.
The short winter afternoon was rapidly waning, and Elizabeth still stared into the glow of the fire, the shadows darkening around her. She saw there the glow in her own heart.
‘I know what you mean,’ she added in an abrupt voice. ‘Lots of people have said it to me. I’m supposed to have brains, and Hector has none, not the academic kind, at any rate. I have the knack of passing examinations; Hector hasn’t. I like to read all kinds of books; Hector never opens a book if he can help it. What can we have in common, people wonder. That’s the superficial point of view. What do these things matter? They’re all second-hand. What we read or don’t read makes no difference to ourselves. The real me, ‘she struck her bosom, ‘is made of the same stuff as Hector —’
She broke off as abruptly as she had begun. She could not explain it to Aunt Janet. They were both wild and passionate; they wanted the whole of life at one draught; they would sink or swim together. Images flowed through her mind: in the air or under the sea or rooted in the earth she saw herself and Hector living, growing, swimming, breasting the wind together. She thought of his wide shoulders, his strong neck, his swift and lovely feet….
‘What have brains to do with it?’ she asked, looking up. ‘It’s a miracle, Aunt Janet; a miracle that sometimes takes my breath away. Whatever made him fall in love with me, I often wonder….’
She smiled suddenly, and touched Aunt Janet.
‘You can’t explain away a miracle, can you? A miracle swept us off our feet, and we got married because we couldn’t help it. That’s the answer.’
Much of what Elizabeth had refrained from trying to express was none the less transmitted to the old woman on the other side of the fire. She had lived so long on vicarious emotion that it had become her one solace, and she was grateful to Elizabeth for the thrill she now experienced. Her gratitude submerged her resentment.
‘I love him, too, Elizabeth,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘But you have the greater influence over him, I am sure. If you would only use it!’
‘When you are driven by a strong wind you can’t use it, Aunt Janet!
‘But, my dear Elizabeth —’
A note of helplessness sounded in Aunt Janet’s voice.
Elizabeth suddenly felt exasperated. She sprang to her feet.
‘You don’t believe in us! You don’t believe it has any meaning! You’re only thinking of the little things, like keeping house and coming home at ten o’clock —’
‘But surely you want Hector to get on in the world,’ protested Aunt Janet, whose head was whirling. ‘I only want the best for both of you.’ She was crying.
Elizabeth’s emotion transformed itself again.
‘My dear, my dear,’ she coaxed, kneeling before Aunt Janet, ‘don’t worry, don’t worry. We’ll be all right. There’s something in both of us.’
She petted the old woman for some minutes. Then, still, kneeling, she went on: ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t like Hector’s getting drunk any more than you do. But I think I understand it. I might do the same myself, if I had been accustomed to it as he has. What good could it do to coerce him? He’d only be angry with me. It would destroy the unity between us. Give us time, that’s all. We’ll both grow in grace. Don’t you see? I feel that so strongly that I know I must be right.’
She went on soothing Janet, who was wiping her eyes again.
They were both startled by the ringing of the front-door bell. It was now almost dark.
‘Whoever can that be?’ Elizabeth started to her feet.
Mary Ann, mindful of her manners before the minister, ceremoniously announced:
‘Mr Murray.’
William Murray came in eagerly, carrying a small book, but hesitated when he found he could barely discern his hostess by the flickering light of the fire.
‘Hello!’ said Elizabeth. ‘I’m afraid we’re rather in the dark here. Wait a minute and I’ll light the gas.’
‘I hope I haven’t disturbed you.’ The minister hung back.
‘Not a bit,’ said Elizabeth, striking matches. ‘I’m very glad to see you.’
The gaslight flooded the room with brightness, submerging along with the shadows Elizabeth’s glowing sentiments. The minister sat down. Elizabeth looked gay.
‘We’ve been having an argument. Should one coerce other people for their good? Which side do you take, Mr Murray?’
The minister smiled because Elizabeth was smiling at him. Mrs Hector stimulated him pleasantly.
‘I should need to know something about the circumstances,’ he said.
‘Oh, Miss Shand says: yes, one should force other people to do things, and I say: no, one shouldn’t. Tell us what you think.’
‘Well,’ said the minister, ‘do you know, I should never force anybody in anything. But surely one person can influence another? In fact, I think we all influence each other, whether we ought to or not, and perhaps whether we know it or not.’
‘Ah, but that’s a different thing’ and ‘That’s just what I say’ broke simultaneously from Elizabeth and Janet.
‘To force ideas or conduct on another,’ went on the minister, ‘is egoism; but to influence another, if it’s done in – in love,’ he stumbled over the word, ‘is surely the highest altruism?’
‘Altruism my hat!’ retorted Elizabeth, to Aunt Janet’s horror. ‘How can it be altruism if we influence other people without knowing it.’
‘I should have said rather that we influence other people more than we know.’
‘Then