the conflict-第54部分

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aid　to　touch　meto…day？''　she　asked。

He　laughed：　　‘‘The　bird　IS　merely　an　excuse；''　he　admitted。　　‘‘I've　got　back　my　self…control；　and　I　purpose　to　keep　it。''

She　flushed　angrily。　　His　frankness　now　seemed　to　her　to　be　flavored　with　impertinent　assurance。　　‘‘That's　amusing；''　said　she；　with　an　unpleasant　smile。　　‘‘You　have　an　extraordinary　opinion　of　yourself；　haven't　you？''

He　shrugged　his　shoulders　as　if　the　subject　did　not　interest　him　and　set　off　at　a　gait　that　compelled　her　horse　to　a　rapid　walk。　　She　said　presently：

‘‘I'm　going　to　live　at　the　old　place　alone　for　the　present。　　You'll　come　to　see　me？''

He　looked　at　her。　　‘‘No；''　he　said。　　‘‘As　I　told　you　a　moment　ago；　that's　over。　　You'll　have　to　find　some　one　else　to　amuse　youfor；　I　understand　perfectly；　Jane；　that　you　were　only　doing　what's　called　flirting。　　That　sort　of　thing　is　a　waste　of　timefor　me。　　I'm　not　competent　to　judge　whether　it's　a　waste　for　you。''

She　looked　coldly　down　at　him。　　‘‘You　have　changed　since　I　last　saw　you；''　she　said。　　‘‘I　don't　mean　the　change　in　your　manner　toward　me。　　I　mean　something　deeper。　　I've　often　heard　that　politics　makes　a　man　deteriorate。　　You　must　be　careful；　Victor。''

‘‘I　must　think　about　that；''　said　he。　　‘‘Thank　you　for　warning　me。''

His　prompt　acceptance　of　her　insincere　criticism　made　her　straightway　repentant。　　‘‘No；　it's　I　that　have　changed；''　she　said。　　‘‘Oh；　I'm　horrid！simply　horrid。　　I'm　in　despair　about　myself。''

‘‘Any　one　who　thinks　about　himself　is　bound　to　be；''　said　he　philosophically。　　‘‘That's　why　one　has　to　keep　busy　in　order　to　keep　contented。''　　He　halted。　　‘‘I　can　save　a　mile　and　half　an　hour　by　crossing　these　fields。''　　He　held　the　wounded　bird　in　one　hand　very　carefully　while　he　lifted　his　hat。

She　colored　deeply。　　‘‘Victor；''　she　said；　‘‘isn't　there　any　way　that　you　and　I　can　be　friends？''

‘‘Yes；''　replied　he。　　‘‘As　I　told　you　before；　by　becoming　one　of　us。　　Those　are　impossible　terms；　of　course。　　But　that's　the　only　way　by　which　we　could　be　of　use　to　each　other。　　Jane；　if　I；　professing　what　I　do　profess；　offered　to　be　friends　with　you　on　any　other　terms；　you'd　be　very　foolish　not　to　reject　my　offer。　　For；　it　would　mean　that　I　was　a　fraud。　　Don't　you　see　that？''

‘‘Yes；''　she　admitted。　　‘‘But　when　I　am　with　you　I　see　everything　exactly　as　you　represent　it。''

‘‘It's　fortunate　for　you　that　I'm　not　disposed　to　take　advantage　of　thatisn't　it？''　said　he；　with　good…humored　irony。

‘‘You　don't　believe　me！''

‘‘Not　altogether；''　he　confessed。　　‘‘To　be　quite　candid；　I　think　that　for　some　reason　or　other　I　rouse　in　you　an　irresistible　desire　to　pose。　　I　doubt　if　you　realize　it　wholly。　　But　you'd　be　hard　pressed　just　where　to　draw　the　line　between　the　sincere　and　the　insincere；　wouldn't　youhonestly？''

She　sat　moodily　combing　at　her　horse's　mane。

‘‘I　know　it's　cruel；''　he　went　on　lightly；　‘‘to　deny　anything；　however　small；　to　a　young　lady　who　has　always　had　her　own　way。　　But　in　self…defense　I　must　do　it。''

‘‘Why　DO　I　take　these　things　from　you？''　she　cried；　in　sudden　exasperation。　　And　touching　her　horse　with　her　stick；　she　was　off　at　a　gallop。



IX


From　anger　against　Victor　Dorn；　Jane　passed　to　anger　against　herself。　　This　was　soon　followed　by　a　mood　of　self…denunciation；　by　astonishment　at　the　follies　of　which　she　had　been　guilty；　by　shame　for　them。　　She　could　not　scoff　or　scorn　herself　out　of　the　infatuation。　　But　at　least　she　could　control　herself　against　yielding　to　it。　　Recalling　and　reviewing　all　he　had　said；　shethat　is；　her　vanitydecided　that　the　most　important　remark；　the　only　really　important　remark；　was　his　declaration　of　disbelief　in　her　sincerity。　　‘‘The　reason　he　has　repulsed　meand　a　very　good　reason　it　isis　that　he　thinks　I　am　simply　amusing　myself。　　If　he　thought　I　was　in　earnest；　he　would　act　very　differently。　　Very　shrewd　of　him！''

Did　she　believe　this？　　Certainly　not。　　But　she　convinced　herself　that　she　believed　it；　and　so　saved　her　pride。　　From　this　point　she　proceeded　by　easy　stages　to　doubting　whether；　if　Victor　had　taken　her　at　her　word；　she　would　have　married　him。　　And　soon　she　had　convinced　herself　that　she　had　gone　so　far　only　through　her　passion　for　conquest；　that　at　the　first　sign　of　his　yielding　her　good　sense　would　have　asserted　itself　and　she　could　have　retreated。

‘‘He　knew　me　better　than　I　knew　myself；''　said　she　not　so　thoroughly　convinced　as　her　pride　would　have　liked；　but　far　better　content　with　herself　than　in　those　unhappy　hours　of　humiliation　after　her　last　talk　with　him。

From　the　beginning　of　her　infatuation　there　had　been　only　a　few　days；　hardly　more　than　a　few　hours；　when　the　voice　of　prudence　and　good　sense　had　been　silenced。　　Yes；　he　was　right；　they　were　not　suited　to　each　other；　and　a　marriage　between　them　would　have　been　absurd。　　He　did　belong　to　a　different；　to　a　lower　class；　and　he　could　never　have　understood　her。　　Refinement；　taste；　the　things　of　the　life　of　luxury　and　leisure　were　incomprehensible　to　him。　　It　might　be　unjust　that　the　many　had　to　toil　in　squalor　and　sordidness　while　the　few　were　privileged　to　cultivate　and　to　enjoy　the　graces　and　the　beauties；　but；　unjust　or　in　some　mysterious　way　just；　there　was　the　fact。　　Her　life　was　marked　out　for　her；　she　was　of　the　elect。　　She　would　do　well　to　accept　her　good　fortune　and　live　as　the　gods　had　ordained　for　her。

If　Victor　had　been　different　in　that　one　respect！　　。　。　。　　The　infatuation；　too；　was　a　fact。　　The　wise　course　was　flightand　she　fled。

That　winter；　in　Chicago　and　in　New　York；　Jane　amused　herselfin　the　ways　devised　by　latter　day　impatience　with　the　folly　of　wasting　a　precious　part　of　the　one　brief　life　in　useless　grief　or　pretense　of　grief。　　In　Remsen　City　she　would　have　had　to　be　very　quiet　indeed；　under　penalty　of　horrifying　public　sentiment。　　But　Chicago　and　New　York　knew　nothing　of　her　grief；　cared　nothing　about　grief　of　any　kind。　　People　in　deep　mourning　were　found　in　the　theaters；　in　the　gay　restaurants；　wherever　any　enjoyment　was　to　be　had；　and　very　sensible　it　was　of　them；　and　proof　of　the　sincerity　of　their　sorrowfor　sincere　sorrow　seeks　consolation　lest　it　go　mad　and　commit　suicidedoes　it　not？

Jane；　young；　beautiful；　rich；　clever；　had　a　very　good　time　indeedso　good　that　in　the　spring；　instead　of　going　back　to　Remsen　City　to　rest；　she　went　abroad。　　More　enjoymentor；　at　least；　more　of　the　things　that　fill　in　the　time　and　spare　one　the　necessity　of　thinking。

In　August　she　suddenly　left　her　friends　at　St。　Moritz　and　journeyed　back　to　Remsen　City　as　fast　as　train　and　boat　and　train　could　take　her。　　And　on　the　front　veranda　of　the　old　house　she　sat　herself　down　and　looked　out　over　the　familiar　landscape　and　listened　to　the　katydids　lulling　the　woods　and　the　fields；　and　was　bored　and　wondered　why　she　had　come。

In　a　reckless　mood　she　went　down　to　see　Victor　Dorn。　　‘‘I　am　cured；''　she　said　to　herself。　　‘‘I　must　be　cured。　　I　simply　can't　be　small　and　silly　enough　to　care　for　a　country　town　labor　agitator　after　all　I've　been　through　after　the　attentions　I've　had　and　the　men　of　the　world　I've　met。　　I'm　cured；　and　I　must　prove　it　to　myself　。''

In　the　side　yard　Alice　Sherrill　and　her　children　and　several　neighbor　girls　were　putting　up　pears　and　peaches；　blackberries　and　plums。　　The　air　was　heavy　with　delicious　odors　of　ripe　and　perfect　fruit；　and　the　laughter；　the　bright　healthy　faces；　the　strong　graceful　bodies　in　all　manner　of　poses　at　the　work　required　made　a　scene　that　brought　tears　to　Jane's　eyes。　　Why　tears　she　could　not　have　explained；　but　there　they　were。　　At　far　end　of　the　arbor；　looking　exactly　as　he　had　in　the　same　place　the　year　before；　sat　Victor　Dorn；　writing。　　He　glanced　up；　saw　her！　　Into　his　face　came　a　look　of　welcome　that　warmed　her　chilled　heart。

‘‘Hel…LO！''　he　cried；　starting　up。　　‘‘I　AM　glad　to　see　you。''

‘‘I'm　mighty　glad　to　be　back；''　said　she；　lapsing　with　keen　pleasure　into　her　native　dialect。

He　took　both　her　hands　and　shook　them　cordially；　then　looked　at　her　from　head　to　foot　admiringly。　　‘‘The　latest　from　the　Rue　de　la　Paix；　I　suppose？''　said　he。

They　seated　themselves　with　the　table　between　them。　　She；　under　cover　of　commonplaces　about　her　travels；　examined　him　with　the　utmost　calmness。　　She　saw　every　point　wherein　he　fell　short　of　the　men　of　her　class　the　sort　of　men　she　ought　to　like　and　admire。　　But；　oh；　how　dull　and　stale　and　narrow　and　petty　they　were；　beside　this　man。　　She　knew　now　why　she　had　fled。　　She　didn't　want　to　love　Victor　Dorn；　or　to　marry　himor　his　sort　of　man。　　But　he；　his　intense　aliveness；　his　keen；　supple　mind；　had　spoiled　her　for　those　others。　　One　of　them　she　could　not　marry。　　‘‘I　should　go　mad　with　boredom。　　One　can　no　more　live　intimately　with　fashion　than　one　can　eat　gold　and　drink　diamonds。　　And；　oh；　but　I　am　hungry　and　thirsty！''

‘‘So　you've　had　a　good　time？''　he　was　saying。

Superb；''　replied　she。　　‘‘Such　scenerysuch　variety　of　people。　　I　love　Europe。　　ButI'm　glad　to　be　home　again。''

‘‘I　don't　see　how　you　can　stand　it；''　said　Victor。

‘‘Why？''　inquired　she　in　surprise。

‘‘Unless　I　had　an　intense　personal　interest　in　the　most　active　kind　of　life　in　a　place　like　this；　I　should　either　fly　or　take　to　drink；''　replied　he。　　‘‘In　this　world　you've　either　got　to　invent　o