the price she paid-第47部分

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‘‘I　think　you've　won　a　great　victory。''

‘‘Victory！''　　And　Mildred　laughed　dolefully。　　‘‘If　this　is　victory；　I　hope　I'll　never　know　defeat。''

Why　did　Mildred　refuse　Stanley　Baird　and　cut　herself　off　from　him；　even　after　her　hopes　of　Donald　Keith　died　through　lack　of　food；　real　or　imaginary？　　It　would　be　gratifying　to　offer　this　as　a　case　of　pure　courage　and　high　principle；　untainted　of　the　motives　which　govern　ordinary　human　actions。　　But　unluckily　this　is　a　biography；　not　a　romance；　a　history　and　not　a　eulogy。　And　Mildred　Gower　is　a　human　being；　even　as　you　and　I；　not　a　galvanized　embodiment　of　superhuman　virtues　such　as　you　and　I　are　pretending　to　be；　perhaps　even　to　ourselves。　　The　explanation　of　her　strange　aberration；　which　will　be　doubted　or　secretly　condemned　by　every　woman　of　the　sheltered　classes　who　loves　her　dependence　and　seeks　to　disguise　it　as　something　sweet　and　fine　and　‘‘womanly''the　explanation　of　her　almost　insane　act　of　renunciation　of　all　that　a　lady　holds　most　dear　is　simple　enough；　puzzling　though　she　found　it。　　Ignorance；　which　accounts　for　so　much　of　the　squalid　failure　in　human　life；　accounts　also　for　much　if　not　all　the　most　splendid　audacious　achievement。　　Very　oftenvery；　very　oftenthe　impossibilities　are　achieved　by　those　who　in　their　ignorance　advance　not　boldly　but　unconcernedly　where　a　wiser　man　or　woman　would　shrink　and　retreat。　　Fortunate　indeed　is　he　or　she　who　in　a　crisis　is　by　chance　equipped　with　neither　too　little　nor　too　much　knowledgewho　knows　enough　to　enable　him　to　advance；　but　does　not　know　enough　to　appreciate　how　perilous；　how　foolhardy；　how　harsh　and　cruel；　advance　will　be。　　Mildred　was　in　this　instance　thus　fortunateunfortunate；　she　was　presently　to　think　it。　She　knew　enough　about　loveless　marriage　to　shrink　from　it。　　She　did　not　know　enough　about　what　poverty；　moneylessness；　and　friendlessness　mean　in　the　actuality　to　a　woman　bred　as　she　had　been。　　She　imagined　she　knewand　sick　at　heart　her　notion　of　poverty　made　her。　　But　imagination　was　only　faintest　foreshadowing　of　actuality。　　If　she　had　known；　she　would　have　yielded　to　the　temptation　that　was　almost　too　strong　for　her。　　And　if　she　had　yieldedwhat　then？　Not　such　a　repulsive　lot；　as　our　comfortable　classes　look　at　it。　　Plenty　to　eat　and　drink　and　to　wear；　servants　and　equipages　and　fine　houses　and　fine　society；　the　envy　of　her　gaping　kinda　comfortable　life　for　the　body；　a　comfortable　death　for　mind　and　heart；　slowly　and　softly　suffocated　in　luxury。　　Partly　through　knowledge　that　strongly　affected　her　character；　which　was　on　the　whole　aspiring　and　sensitive　beyond　the　average　to　the　true　and　the　beautiful；　partly　through　ignorance　that　veiled　the　future　from　her　none　too　valorous　and　hardy　heart；　she　did　not　yield　to　the　temptation。　　And　thus；　instead　of　dying；　she　began　to　live；　for　what　is　life　but　growth　in　experience；　in　strength　and　knowledge　and　capability？

A　baby　enters　the　world　screaming　with　pain。　　The　first　sensations　of　living　are　agonizing。　　It　is　the　same　with　the　birth　of　souls；　for　a　soul　is　not　really　born　until　that　day　when　it　is　offered　choice　between　life　and　death　and　chooses　life。　　In　Mildred　Gower's　case　this　birth　was　an　agony。　　She　awoke　the　following　morning　with　a　dull　headache；　a　fainting　heart；　and　a　throat　so　sore　that　she　felt　a　painful　catch　whenever　she　tried　to　swallow。　　She　used　the　spray；　she　massaged　her　throat　and　neck　vigorously。　　In　vain；　it　was　folly　to　think　of　going　where　she　might　have　to　risk　a　trial　of　her　voice　that　day。　　The　sun　was　brilliant　and　the　air　sharp　without　being　humid　or　too　cold。　　She　dressed；　breakfasted；　went　out　for　a　walk。　　The　throat　grew　worse；　then　better。　　She　returned　for　luncheon；　and　afterward　began　to　think　of　packing；　not　that　she　had　chosen　a　new　place；　but　because　she　wished　to　have　some　sort　of　a　sense　of　action。　　But　her　unhappiness　drove　her　out　againto　the　park　where　the　air　was　fine　and　she　could　walk　in　comparative　solitude。

‘‘What　a　silly　fool　I　am！''　thought　she。　　‘‘Why　did　I　do　this　in　the　worst；　the　hardest　possible　way？　　I　should　have　held　on　to　Stanley　until　I　had　a　position。　No；　I'm　such　a　poor　creature　that　I　could　never　have　done　it　in　that　way。　　I'd　simply　have　kept　on　bluffing；　fooling　myself；　putting　off　and　putting　of。　　I　had　to　jump　into　the　water　with　nobody　near　to　help　me；　or　I'd　never　have　begun　to　learn　to　swim。　　I　haven't　begun　yet。　　I　may　never　learn　to　swim。　　I　may　drown。　Yes；　I　probably　shall　drown。''

She　wandered　aimlessly　onaround　the　upper　reservoir　where　the　strong　breeze　freshened　her　through　and　through　and　made　her　feel　less　forlorn　in　spite　of　her　chicken　heart。　　She　crossed　the　bridge　at　the　lower　end　and　came　down　toward　the　East　Drive。　　A　taxicab　rushed　by；　not　so　fast；　however；　that　she　failed　to　recognize　Donald　Keith　and　Cyrilla　Brindley。　　They　were　talking　so　earnestlyKeith　was　talking；　for　a　wonder；　and　Mrs。　Brindley　listeningthat　they　did　not　see　her。　　She　went　straight　home。　　But　as　she　was　afoot；　the　journey　took　about　half　an　hour。　　Cyrilla　was　already　there；　in　a　negligee；　looking　as　if　she　had　not　been　out　of　the　little　library　for　hours。　　She　was　writing　a　letter。　　Mildred　strolled　in　and　seated　herself。　Cyrilla　went　on　writing。　　Mildred　watched　her　impatiently。　　She　wished　to　talk；　to　be　talked　to；　to　be　consoled　and　cheered；　to　hear　about　Donald　Keith。　　Would　that　letter　never　be　finished？　　At　last　it　was；　and　Cyrilla　took　a　book　and　settled　herself　to　reading。　　There　was　a　vague　something　in　her　mannera　change；　an　attitude　toward　Mildredthat　disturbed　Mildred。　　Or；　was　that　notion　of　a　change　merely　the　offspring　of　her　own　somber　mood？　　Seeing　that　Mrs。　Brindley　would　not　begin；　she　broke　the　silence　herself。　　Said　she　awkwardly：

‘‘I've　decided　to　move。　　In　fact；　I've　got　to　move。''

Cyrilla　laid　down　the　book　and　regarded　her　tran…　quilly。　　‘‘Of　course；''　said　she。　　‘‘I've　already　begun　to　arrange　for　someone　else。''

Mildred　choked；　and　the　tears　welled　into　her　eyes。　She　had　not　been　mistaken；　Cyrilla　had　changed　toward　her。　　Now　that　she　had　no　prospects　for　a　brilliant　career；　now　that　her　money　was　gone；　Cyrilla　had　begun　toto　be　human。　　No　doubt；　in　the　course　of　that　drive；　Cyrilla　had　discovered　that　Keith　had　no　interest　in　her　either。　　Mildred　beat　down　her　emotion　and　was　soon　able　to　say　in　a　voice　as　unconcerned　as　Cyrilla's：

‘‘I'll　find　a　place　to…morrow　or　next　day；　and　go　at　once。''

‘‘I'll　be　sorry　to　lose　you；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley；　‘‘but　I　agree　with　you　that　you　can't　get　settled　any　too　soon。''

‘‘You　don't　happen　to　know　of　any　cheap；　good　place？''　said　Mildred。

‘‘If　it's　cheap；　I　don't　think　it's　likely　to　be　good　in　New　York；''　replied　Cyrilla。　　‘‘You'll　have　to　put　up　with　inconveniencesand　worse。　　I'd　offer　to　help　you　find　a　place；　but　I　think　everything　self…reliant　one　does　helps　one　to　learn。　　Don't　you？''

‘‘Yes；　indeed；''　assented　Mildred。　　The　thing　was　self…evidently　true；　still　she　began　to　hate　Cyrilla。　This　cold…hearted　New　York！　　How　she　would　grind　down　her　heel　when　she　got　it　on　the　neck　of　New　York！　Friendship；　love；　helpfulnesswhat　did　New　York　and　New…Yorkers　know　of　these　things？　　‘‘Or　Hanging　Rock；　either；''　reflected　she。　　What　a　cold　and　lonely　world！

‘‘Have　you　been　to　see　about　a　position？''　inquired　Cyrilla。

Mildred　was　thrown　into　confusion。　　‘‘I　can't　go　for　aday　or　so；''　she　stammered。　　‘‘The　changeable　weather　has　rather　upset　my　throat。　　Nothing　serious；　but　I　want　to　be　at　my　best。''

‘‘Certainly；''　said　Mrs。　Brindley。　　Her　direct　gaze　made　Mildred　uncomfortable。　　She　went　on：　　‘‘You're　sure　it's　the　weather？''

‘‘What　else　could　it　be？''　demanded　Mildred　with　a　latent　resentment　whose　interesting　origin　she　did　not　pause　to　inquire　into。

‘‘Well；　salad；　or　sauces；　or　desserts；　or　cafe　au　lait　in　the　morning；　or　candy；　or　tea；''　said　Cyrilla。　　‘‘Or　it　might　be　cigarettes；　or　all　those　thingsand　thin　stockings　and　low　shoesmightn't　it？''

Never　before　had　she　known　Cyrilla　to　say　anything　meddlesome　or　cattish。　　Said　Mildred　with　a　faint　sneer；　‘‘That　sounds　like　Mr。　Keith's　crankiness。''

‘‘It　is；''　replied　Cyrilla。　　‘‘I　used　to　think　he　was　a　crank　on　the　subject　of　singing　and　stomachs；　and　singing　and　ankles。　　But　I've　been　convinced；　partly　by　him；　mostly　by　what　I've　observed。''

Mildred　maintained　an　icy　silence。

‘‘I　see　you　are　resenting　what　I　said；''　observed　Cyrilla。

‘‘Not　at　all；''　said　Mildred。　　‘‘No　doubt　you　meant　well。''

‘‘You　will　please　remember　that　you　asked　me　a　question。''

So　she　had。　　But　the　discovery　that　she　was　clearly　in　the　wrong；　that　she　had　invited　the　disguised　lecture；　only　aggravated　her　sense　of　resentment　against　Mrs。　Brindley。　　She　spent　the　rest　of　the　afternoon　in　sorting　and　packing　her　belongingsand　in　crying。　　She　came　upon　the　paper　Donald　Keith　had　left。　　She　read　it　through　carefully；　thoughtfully；　read　it　to　the　last　direction　as　to　exercise　with　the　machine；　the　last　arrangement　for　a　daily　routine　of　life；　the　last　suggestion　as　to　diet。

‘‘Fortunately　all　that　isn't　necessary；''　said　she　to　herself；　when　she　had　finished。　　‘‘If　it　were；　I　could　never　make　a　career。　　I'm　not　stupid　enough　to　be　able　to　lead　that　kind　of　life。　　Why；　I'd　not