Just lets stay like this a little while, dear. Just a minute or two. I want to tell you: brother George has been here, and he told me everything aboutabout how unhappy youd beenand how you went so gallantly to that old woman with the opera-glasses. Isabel gave a sad little laugh. What a terrible old woman she is! What a really terrible thing a vulgar old woman can be!
As the room took life from the sudden lines of fire within the bulbs Isabel made a deprecatory gesture, and, with a faint laugh of apologetic protest, turned quickly away from George. What she meant was: You mustnt see my face until Ive made it nicer for you. Then she turned again to him, her eyes downcast, but no sign of tears in them, and she contrived to show him that there was the semblance of a smile upon her lips. She still wore her hat, and in her unsteady fingers she held a white envelope, somewhat crumpled.
Wait, dearest, she said; and though he stood stone cold, she lifted her arms, put them round him again, and pressed her check lightly to his. Oh, you do look so troubled, poor dear! One thing you couldnt doubt, beloved boy: you know I could never care for anything in the world as I care for younever, never!
She released him, and stepped back. Just a moment more, dearest. I want you to read this first. We can get at things better. She pressed into his hand the envelope she had brought with her, and as he opened it, and began to read the long enclosure, she walked slowly to the other end of the room; then stood there, with her back to him, and her head drooping a little, until he had finished.
The sheets of paper were covered with Eugenes handwriting.
George Amberson will bring you this, dear Isabel. He is waiting while I write. He and I have talked things over, and before he gives this to you he will tell you what has happened. Of course Im rather confused, and havent had time to think matters out very definitely, and yet I believe I should have been better prepared for what took place to-dayI ought to have known it was coming, because I have understood for quite a long time that young George was getting to dislike me more and more. Somehow, Ive never been able to get his friendship; hes always had a latent distrust of meor something like distrustand perhaps thats made me sometimes a little awkward and diffident with him. I think it may be he felt from the first that I cared a great deal about you, and he naturally resented it. I think perhaps he felt this even during all the time when I was so carefulat least I thought I wasnot to show, even to you, how immensely I did care. And he may have feared that you were thinking too much about meeven when you werent and only liked me as an old friend. Its perfectly comprehensible to me, also, that at his age one gets excited about gossip. Dear Isabel, what Im trying to get at, in my confused way, is that you and I dont care about this nonsensical gossip, ourselves, at all. Yesterday I thought the time had come when I could ask you to marry me, and you were dear enough to tell me some time it might come to that. Well, you and I, left to ourselves, and knowing what we have been and what we are, wed pay as much attention to talk as we would to any other kind of old cats mewing! Wed not be very apt to let such things keep us from the plenty of life we have left to us for making up to ourselves for old unhappinesses and mistakes. But now were faced withnot the slander and not our own fear of it, because we havent any, but someone elses fear of ityour sons. And, oh, dearest woman in the world, I know what your son is to you, and it frightens me! Let me explain a little: I dont think hell changeat twenty-one or twenty-two so many things appear solid and permanent and terrible which forty sees are nothing but disappearing miasma. Forty cant tell twenty about this; thats the pity of it! Twenty can find out only by getting to be forty. And so we come to this, dear: Will you live your own life your way, or Georges way? Im going a little further, because it would be fatal not to be wholly frank now. George will act toward you only as your long worship of him, your sacrificesall the unseen little ones every day since he was bornwill make him act. Dear, it breaks my heart for you, but what you have to oppose now is the history of your own selfless and perfect motherhood. I remember saying once that what you worshipped in your son was the angel you saw in himand I still believe that is true of every mother. But in a mothers worship she may not see that the Will in her son should not always be offered incense along with the angel. I grow sick with fear for youfor both you and mewhen I think how the Will against us two has grown strong through the love you have given the angeland how long your own sweet Will has served that other. Are you strong enough, Isabel? Can you make the fight? I promise you that if you will take heart for it, you will find so quickly that it has all amounted to nothing. You shall have happiness, and, in a little while, only happiness. You need only to write me a lineI cant come to your houseand tell me where you will meet me. We will come back in a month, and the angel in your son will bring him to you; I promise it. What is good in him will grow so fine, once you have beaten the turbulent Willbut it must be beaten!
Your brother, that good friend, is waiting with such patience; I should not keep him longerand I am saying too much for wisdom, I fear. But, oh, my dear, wont you be strongsuch a little short strength it would need! Dont strike my life down twice, dearthis time Ive not deserved it.
Concluding this missive, George tossed it abruptly from him so that one sheet fell upon his bed and the others upon the floor; and at the faint noise of their falling Isabel came, and, kneeling, began to gather them up.
She did not look at him, but kept her eyes downcast upon the letter in her hands, tremulously rearranging the sheets in order as she spokeand though she smiled, her smile was as tremulous as her hands. Nervousness and an irresistible timidity possessed her. II wanted to say, George, she faltered. I felt that ifif some day it should happenI mean, if you came to feel differently about it, and Eugene and Ithat is if we found that it seemed the most sensible thing to doI was afraid you might think it would be a little queer aboutLucy. I mean ifif she were your step-sister. Of course, shed not be even legally related to you, and if youif you cared for her
Thus far she got stumblingly with what she wanted to say, while George watched her with a gaze that grew harder and hotter; but here he cut her off. I have already given up all idea of Lucy, he said. Naturally, I couldnt have treated her father as I deliberately did treat himI could hardly have done that and expected his daughter ever to speak to me again.
Isabel gave a quick cry of compassion, but he allowed her no opportunity to speak. You neednt think Im making any particular sacrifice, he said sharply, though I would, quickly enough, if I thought it necessary in a matter of honour like this. I was interested in her, and I could even say I did care for her; but she proved pretty satisfactorily that she cared little enough about me! She went away right in the midst of aof a difference of opinion we were having; she didnt even let me know she was going, and never wrote a line to me, and then came back telling everybody shed had a perfectly gorgeous time! Thats quite enough for me. Im not precisely the sort to arrange for that kind of thing to be done to me more than once! The truth is, were not congenial and wed found that much out, at least, before she left. We should never have been happy; she was superior all the time, and critical of menot very pleasant, that! I was disappointed in her, and I might as well say it. I dont think she has the very deepest nature in the world, and
She hesitated, looking away. Iof course I dont agree with him in the way he speaks of you, dearexcept about the angel! I dont agree with some of the things he implies. Youve always been unselfishnobody knows that better than your mother. When Fanny was left with nothing, you were so quick and generous to give up what really should have come to you, and
Never mind that, now! You say he tries to be fair, and yet do you suppose it ever occurs to him that Im doing my simple duty? That Im doing what my father would do if he were alive? That Im doing what my father would ask me to do if he could speak from his grave out yonder? Do you suppose it ever occurs to that man for one minute that Im protecting my mother? George raised his voice, advancing upon the helpless lady fiercely; and she could only bend her head before him. He talks about my Willhow it must be beaten down; yes, and he asks my mother to do that little thing to please him! What for? Why does he want me beaten by my mother? Because Im trying to protect her name! Hes got my mothers name bandied up and down the streets of this town till I cant step in those streets without wondering what every soul I meet is thinking of me and of my family, and now he wants you to marry him so that every gossip in town will say There! What did I tell you? I guess that proves its true! You cant get away from it; thats exactly what theyd say, and this man pretends he cares for you, and yet asks you to marry him and give them the right to say it. He says he and you dont care what they say, but I know better! He may not careprobably hes that kindbut you do. There never was an Amberson yet that would let the Amberson name go trailing in the dust like that! Its the proudest name in this town and its going to stay the proudest; and I tell you thats the deepest thing in my naturenot that Id expect Eugene Morgan to understandthe very deepest thing in my nature is to protect that name, and to fight for it to the last breath when danger threatens it, as it does nowthrough my mother! He turned from her, striding up and down and tossing his arms about, in a tumult of gesture. I cant believe it of you, that youd think of such a sacrilege! Thats what it would besacrilege! When he talks about your unselfishness toward me, hes rightyou have been unselfish and you have been a perfect mother. But what about him? Is it unselfish of him to want you to throw away your good name just to please him? Thats all he asks of youand to quit being my mother! Do you think I can believe you really care for him? I dont! You are my mother and youre am Ambersonand I believe youre too proud! Youre too proud to care for a man who could write such a letter as that! He stopped, faced her, and spoke with more self-control: Well, what are you going to do about it, mother?
George was right about his mothers being proud. And even when she laughed with a negro gardener, or even those few times in her life when people saw her weep, Isabel had a proud looksomething that was independent and graceful and strong. But she did not have it now: she leaned against the wall, beside his dressing-table, and seemed beset with humility and with weakness. Her head drooped.
I want to know what youre going to write him. Do you think if you did what he wants you to I could bear to stay another day in this town, mother? Do you think I could ever bear even to see you again if you married him? Id want to, but you surely know I justcouldnt!
She made a futile gesture, and seemed to breathe with difficulty. II wasntquite sure, she faltered, aboutabout its being wise for us to be marriedeven before knowing how you feel about it. I wasnt even sure it was quite fair toto Eugene. I haveI seem to have that family troublelike fathersthat I spoke to you about once. She managed a deprecatory little dry laugh. Not that it amounts to much, but I wasnt at all sure that it would be fair to him. Marrying doesnt mean so much, after allnot at my age. Its enough to know thatthat people think of youand to see them. I thought we were alloh, pretty happy the way things were, and I dont think it would mean giving up a great deal for him or me, either, if we just went on as we have been. II see him almost every day, and
How could you? George cried. Mother, it seems to me that if he ever set foot in this house againoh! I cant speak of it! Could you see him, knowing what talk it makes every time he turns into this street, and knowing what that means to me? Oh, I dont understand all thisI dont! If youd told me, a year ago, that such things were going to happen, Id have thought you were insaneand now I believe I am!
Then, after a preliminary gesture of despair, as though he meant harm to the ceiling, he flung himself heavily, face downward, upon the bed. His anguish was none the less real for its vehemence; and the stricken lady came to him instantly and bent over him, once more enfolding him in her arms. She said nothing, but suddenly her tears fell upon his head; she saw them, and seemed to be startled.
...A little while after she had gone, George rose and began solemnly to dress for dinner. At one stage of these conscientious proceedings he put on, temporarily, his long black velvet dressing-gown, and, happening to catch sight in his pier glass of the picturesque and medieval figure thus presented, he paused to regard it; and something profoundly theatrical in his nature came to the surface.
For, in truth, the mirrored princely image, with hair dishevelled on the white brow, and the long tragic fall of black velvet from the shoulders, had brought about (in his thought, at least) some comparisons of his own times, so out of joint, with those of that other gentle prince and heir whose widowed mother was minded to marry again.
But I have that within which passeth show;
These but the trappings and the suits of Woe.
Not less like Hamlet did he feel and look as he sat gauntly at the dinner table with Fanny to partake of a meal throughout which neither spoke. Isabel had sent word not to wait for her, an injunction it was as well they obeyed, for she did not come at all. But with the renewal of sustenance furnished to his system, some relaxation must have occurred within the high-strung George. Dinner was not quite finished when, without warning, sleep hit him hard. His burning eyes could no longer restrain the lids above them; his head sagged beyond control; and he got to his feet, and went lurching upstairs, yawning with exhaustion. From the door of his room, which he closed mechanically, with his eyes shut, he went blindly to his bed, fell upon it soddenly, and sleptwith his face full upturned to the light.
...It was after midnight when he woke, and the room was dark. He had not dreamed, but he woke with the sense that somebody or something had been with him while he sleptsomebody or something infinitely compassionate; somebody or something infinitely protective, that would let him come to no harm and to no grief.
He got up, and pressed the light on. Pinned to the cover of his dressing-table was a square envelope, with the words, For you, dear, written in pencil upon it. But the message inside was in ink, a little smudged here and there.
I have been out to the mail-box, darling, with a letter Ive written to Eugene, and hell have it in the morning. It would be unfair not to let him know at once, and my decision could not change if I waited. It would always be the same. I think it is a little better for me to write to you, like this, instead of waiting till you wake up and then telling you, because Im foolish and might cry again, and I took a vow once, long ago, that you should never see me cry. Not that Ill feel like crying when we talk things over to-morrow. Ill be all right and fine (as you say so often) by that timedont fear. I think what makes me most ready to cry now is the thought of the terrible suffering in your poor face, and the unhappy knowledge that it is I, your mother, who put it there. It shall never come again! I love you better than anything and everything else on earth. God gave you to meand oh! how thankful I have been every day of my life for that sacred giftand nothing can ever come between me and Gods gift. I cannot hurt you, and I cannot let you stay hurt as you have beennot another instant after you wake up, my darling boy! It is beyond my power. And Eugene was rightI know you couldnt change about this. Your suffering shows how deep-seated the feeling is within you. So Ive written him just about what I think you would like me tothough I told him I would always be fend of him and always his best friend, and I hoped his dearest friend. Hell understand about not seeing him. Hell understand that, though I didnt say it in so many words. You mustnt trouble about thathell understand. Good-night, my darling, my beloved, my beloved! You mustnt be troubled. I think I shouldnt mind anything very much so long as I have you all to myselfas people sayto make up for your long years away from me at college. Well talk of whats best to do in the morning, shant we? And for all this pain youll forgive your loving and devoted mother.