about.
`Oh, it wouldn't make any difference to my feeling for you,' she said,
with a certain sarcasm.
`There!' he said. `That is the point! In that case I don't mind in the
least. I mean it would be awfully nice to have a child running about the
house, and feel one was building up a future for it. I should have something
to strive for then, and I should know it was your child, shouldn't I, dear?
And it would seem just the same as my own. Because it is you who count in
these matters. You know that, don't you, dear? I don't enter, I am a cypher.
You are the great I-am! as far as life goes. You know that, don't you? I
mean, as far as I am concerned. I mean, but for you I am absolutely nothing.
I live for your sake and your future. I am nothing to myself'
Connie heard it all with deepening dismay and repulsion. It was one of
the ghastly half-truths that poison human existence. What man in his senses
would say such things to a woman! But men aren't in their senses. What man
with a spark of honour would put this ghastly burden of life-responsibility
upon a woman, and leave her there, in the void?
Moreover, in half an hour's time, Connie heard Clifford talking to Mrs
Bolton, in a hot, impulsive voice, revealing himself in a sort of
passionless passion to the woman, as if she were half mistress, half
foster-mother to him. And Mrs Bolton was carefully dressing him in evening
clothes, for there were important business guests in the house.
Connie really sometimes felt she would die at this time. She felt she
was being crushed to death by weird lies, and by the amazing cruelty of
idiocy. Clifford's strange business efficiency in a way over-awed her, and
his declaration of private worship put her into a panic. There was nothing
between them. She never even touched him nowadays, and he never touched her.
He never even took her hand and held it kindly. No, and because they were so
utterly out of touch, he tortured her with his declaration of idolatry. It
was the cruelty of utter impotence. And she felt her reason would give way,
or she would die.
She fled as much as possible to the wood. One afternoon, as she sat
brooding, watching the water bubbling coldly in John's Well, the keeper had
strode up to her.
`I got you a key made, my Lady!' he said, saluting, and he offered her
the key.
`Thank you so much!' she said, startled.
`The hut's not very tidy, if you don't mind,' he said. `I cleared it
<<BackPagesTo menuForward>>