the dwelling place of ligh-第34部分

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and　unbidden；　pity　began　to　invade　her。　　Absurd　to　pity　him！　　She　fought
against　it；　but　the　thought　of　Ditmar　reduced　to　abjectness　gained
ground。　　After　all；　he　had　tried　to　be　generous；　he　had　done　his　best；　he
loved　her；　he　needed　herthe　words　rang　in　her　heart。　　After　all；　he　did
not　realize　how　could　she　expect　him　to　realize？　and　her　imagination
conjured　up　the　situation　in　a　new　perspective。　　Her　sobs　gradually
ceased；　and　presently　she　stopped　in　the　middle　of　the　road　and　regarded
him。　　He　seemed　utterly　miserable；　like　a　hurt　child　whom　she　longed　to
comfort。　　But　what　she　said　was：

〃I　ought　to　be　going　home。〃

〃Not　yet！〃　he　begged。　　〃It's　early。　　You　say　I　don't　understand　you；
Janetmy　God；　I　wish　I　did！　　It　breaks　me　all　up　to　see　you　cry　like
that。〃

〃I'm　sorry；〃　she　said；　after　a　moment。　　〃II　can'tmmake　you　understand。
I　guess　I'm　not　like　anybody　else　I'm　queerI　can't　help　it。　　You　must
let　me　go；　I　only　make　you　unhappy。〃

〃Let　you　go！〃　he　criedand　then　in　utter　self…forgetfulness　she　yielded
her　lips　to　his。　　A　sound　penetrated　the　night；　she　drew　back　from　his
arms　and　stood　silhouetted　against　the　glare　of　the　approaching　headlight
of　a　trolley　car；　and　as　it　came　roaring　down　on　them　she　hailed　it。
Ditmar　seized　her　arm。

〃You're　not　goingnow？〃　he　said　hoarsely。

〃I　must；〃　she　whispered。　　〃I　want　to　be　aloneI　want　to　think。　　You　must
let　me。〃

〃I'll　see　you　to…morrow？〃

〃I　don't　knowI　want　to　think。　　I'mI'm　tired。〃

The　brakes　screamed　as　the　car　came　joltingly　to　a　stop。　　She　flew　up　the
steps；　glancing　around　to　see　whether　Ditmar　had　followed　her；　and　saw
him　still　standing　in　the　road。　　The　car　was　empty　of　passengers；　but　the
conductor　must　have　seen　her　leaving　a　man　in　this　lonely　spot。　　She
glanced　at　his　face；　white　and　pinched　and　apathetiche　must　have　seen
hundreds　of　similar　episodes　in　the　course　of　his　nightly　duties。　　He　was
unmoved　as　he　took　her　fare。　　Nevertheless；　at　the　thought　that　these
other　episodes　might　resemble　hers；　her　face　flamedshe　grew　hot　all
over。　　What　should　she　do　now？　　She　could　not　think。　　Confused　with　her
shame　was　the　memory　of　a　delirious　joy；　yet　no　sooner　would　she　give
herself　up；　trembling；　to　this　memory　when　in　turn　it　was　penetrated　by
qualms　of　resentment；　defiling　its　purity。　　Was　Ditmar　ashamed　of　her？。。。
When　she　reached　home　and　had　got　into　bed　she　wept　a　little；　but　her
tears　were　neither　of　joy　nor　sorrow。　　Her　capacity　for　both　was
exhausted。　　In　this　strange　mood　she　fell　asleep　nor　did　she　waken　when；
at　midnight；　Lise　stealthily　crept　in　beside　her。




CHAPTER　X

Ditmar　stood　staring　after　the　trolley　car　that　bore　Janet　away　until　it
became　a　tiny　speck　of　light　in　the　distance。　　Then　he　started　to　walk
toward　Hampton；　in　the　unwonted　exercise　was　an　outlet　for　the　pent…up
energy　her　departure　had　thwarted；　and　presently　his　body　was　warm　with　a
physical　heat　that　found　its　counterpart　in　a　delicious；　emotional　glow
of　anticipation；　of　exultant　satisfaction。　　After　all；　he　could　not
expect　to　travel　too　fast　with　her。　　Had　he　not　at　least　gained　a　signal
victory？　　When　he　remembered　her　lipswhich　she　had　indubitably　given
him！he　increased　his　stride；　and　in　what　seemed　an　incredibly　brief
time　he　had　recrossed　the　bridge；　covered　the　long　residential　blocks　of
Warren　Street；　and　gained　his　own　door。

The　house　was　quiet；　the　children　having　gone　to　bed；　and　he　groped　his
way　through　the　dark　parlour　to　his　den；　turning　on　the　electric　switch；
sinking　into　an　armchair；　and　lighting　a　cigar。　　He　liked　this　room　of
his；　which　still　retained　something　of　that　flavour　of　a　refuge　and
sanctuary　it　had　so　eminently　possessed　in　the　now　forgotten　days　of
matrimonial　conflict。　　One　of　the　few　elements　of　agreement　he　had　held
in　common　with　the　late　Mrs。　Ditmar　was　a　similarity　of　taste　in
household　decoration；　and　they　had　gone　together　to　a　great　emporium　in
Boston　to　choose　the　furniture　and　fittings。　　The　lamp　in　the　centre　of
the　table　was　a　bronze　column　supporting　a　hemisphere　of　heavy　red　and
emerald　glass；　the　colours　woven　into　an　intricate　and　bizarre　design；
after　the　manner　of　the　art　nouveauso　the　zealous　salesman　had　informed
them。　　Cora　Ditmar；　when　exhibiting　this　lamp　to　admiring　visitors；　had
remembered　the　phrase；　though　her　pronunciation　of　it；　according　to　the
standard　of　the　Sorbonne；　left　something　to　be　desired。　　The　table　and
chairs；　of　heavy；　shiny　oak　marvellously　and　precisely　carved　by
machines；　matched　the　big　panels　of　the　wainscot。　　The　windows　were　high
in　the　wall；　thus　preventing　any　intrusion　from　the　clothes…yard　on　which
they　looked。　　The　bookcases；　protected　by　leaded　panes；　held　countless
volumes　of　the　fiction　from　which　Cora　Ditmar　had　derived　her　knowledge
of　the　great　world　outside　of　Hampton；　together　with　certain　sets　she　had
bought；　not　only　as　ornaments；　but　with　a　praiseworthy　view　to　future
culture；such　as　Whitmarsh's　Library　of　the　Best　Literature。　　These
volumes；　alas；　were　still　uncut；　but　some　of　the　pages　of　the　novelsif
one　cared　to　open　themwere　stained　with　chocolate。　　The　steam　radiator
was　a　decoration　in　itself；　the　fireplace　set　in　the　red　and　yellow　tiles
that　made　the　hearth。　　Above　the　oak　mantel；　in　a　gold　frame；　was　a　large
coloured　print　of　a　Magdalen；　doubled　up　in　grief；　with　a　glory　of　loose；
Titian　hair；　chosen　by　Ditmar　himself　as　expressing　the　nearest　possible
artistic　representation　of　his　ideal　of　the　female　form。　　Cora　Ditmar's
objections　on　the　score　of　voluptuousness　and　of　insufficient　clothing
had　been　vain。　　She　had　recognized　no　immorality　of　sentimentality　in　the
art　itself；　what　she　felt；　and　with　some　justice；　was　that　this
particular　Magdalen　was　unrepentant；　and　that　Ditmar　knew　it。　　And　the
picture　remained　an　offence　to　her　as　long　as　she　lived。　　Formerly　he　had
enjoyed　the　contemplation　of　this　figure；　reminding　him；　as　it　did；　of
mellowed　moments　in　conquests　of　the　past；　suggesting　also　possibilities
of　the　future。　　For　he　had　been　quick　to　discount　the　attitude　of　bowed
despair；　the　sop　flung　by　a　sensuous　artist　to　Christian　orthodoxy。　　He
had　been　sceptical　about　despairfeminine　despair；　which　could　always　be
cured　by　gifts　and　baubles。　　But　to…night；　as　he　raised　his　eyes；　he　felt
a　queer　sensation　marring　the　ecstatic　perfection　of　his　mood。　　That
quality　in　the　picture　which　so　long　had　satisfied　and　entranced　him　had
now　become　repellent；　an　ugly　significant　reflection　of　something
something　in　himself　he　was　suddenly　eager　to　repudiate　and　deny。
It　was　with　a　certain　amazement　that　he　found　himself　on　his　feet　with
the　picture　in　his　hand；　gazing　at　the　empty　space　where　it　had　hung。
For　he　had　had　no　apparent　intention　of　obeying　that　impulse。　　What
should　he　do　with　it？　　Light　the　fire　and　burn　itframe　and　all？　　The
frame　was　an　integral　part　of　it。　　What　would　his　housekeeper　say？　　But
now　that　he　had　actually　removed　it　from　the　wall　he　could　not　replace
it；　so　he　opened　the　closet　door　and　thrust　it　into　a　corner　among　relics
which　had　found　refuge　there。　　He　had　put　his　past　in　the　closet；　yet　the
relief　he　felt　was　mingled　with　the　peculiar　qualm　that　follows　the
discovery　of　symptoms　never　before　remarked。　　Why　should　this　woman　have
this　extraordinary　effect　of　making　him　dissatisfied　with　himself？　　He
sat　down　again　and　tried　to　review　the　affair　from　that　first　day　when　he
had　surprised　in　her　eyes　the　flame　dwelling　in　her。　　She　had　completely
upset　his　life；　increasingly　distracted　his　mind　until　now　he　could
imagine　no　peace　unless　he　possessed　her。　　Hitherto　he　had　recognized　in
his　feeling　for　her　nothing　but　that　same　desire　he　had　had　for　other
women；　intensified　to　a　degree　never　before　experienced。　　But　this　sudden
access　of　moralityhe　did　not　actually　define　it　as　suchwas
disquieting。　　And　in　the　feverish；　semi…objective　survey　he　was　now
making　of　his　emotional　tract　he　was　discovering　the　presence　of　other
disturbing　symptoms　such　as　an　unwonted　tenderness；　a　consideration
almost　amounting　to　pity　which　at　times　he　had　vaguely　sensed　yet　never
sought　imaginatively　to　grasp。　　It　bewildered　him　by　hampering　a
ruthlessness　hitherto　absolute。　　The　fierceness　of　her　inflamed　his
passion；　yet　he　recognized　dimly　behind　this　fierceness　an　instinct　of
selfprotectionand　he　thought　of　her　in　this　moment　as　a　struggling　bird
that　fluttered　out　of　his　hands　when　they　were　ready　to　close　over　her。
So　it　had　been　to…night。　　He　might　have　kept　her；　prevented　her　from
taking　the　car。　　Yet　he　had　let　her　go！　　There　came　again；　utterly　to
blot　this　out；　the　memory　of　her　lips。

Even　then；　there　had　been　something　sorrowful　in　that　kiss；　a　quality　he
resented　as　troubling；　a　flavour　that　came　to　him　after　the　wildness　was
spent。　　What　was　she　struggling　against？　　What　was　behind　her　resistance？
She　loved　him！　　It　had　never　before　occurred　to　him　to　enter　into　the
nature　of　her　feelings；　having　been　so　preoccupied　with　and　tortured　by
his　own。　　This　realization；　that　she　loved　him；　as　it　persisted；　began　to
make　him　uneasy；　though　it　should；　according　to　all　experience；　have　been
a　reason　for　sheer　exultation。　　He　began　to　see　that　with　her　it　involved
complications；　responsibilities；　disclosures；　perhaps　all　of　those　things
he　had　formerly　avoided　and　resented　in　woman。　　He　thought　of　certain
friends　of　his　who　had　become　tangled　upof　one　in　particular　whose　bank
account　had　been　powerless　to　extricate　him。。。。　　And　he　was　ashamed　of
himself。

In　view　of　the　nature　of　his　sex　experience；　of　his　habit　of　applying　his
imagination　solely　to　matters　of　business　rather　than　to　affairs　of　the
heart；if　his　previous　episodes　may　be　so　designated；his　failure　to
surmise　that　a　wish　for　marriage　might　be　at　the　back　of　her　resistance
is　not　so　surprising　as　it　may　seem；　he　laid　down；　half　smoked；　his　third
cigar。　　The　suspicion　followed　swiftly　on　his　recalling　to　mind　her
vehement　repudiation　of　his　proffered　gifts　did　he　think　she　wanted　what
he　could　buy　for　her！　　She　was　not　purchasablethat　way。　　He　ought　to
have　known　it；　he　hadn't　realized　what　he　was　saying。　　But　marriage！
Literally　it　had　never　occurr