Paradise Garden: The Satirical Narrative of a Great Experiment. Gibbs George

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"Love!" he sneered. "There you go. I thought you'd say that."

      "You don't believe in love, then?" she asked.

      "It seems to me that there's a lot of sentimental rubbish written about it. What's the use of talking so much about a thing that's as plain as the nose on your face? Love means loyalty, friendship, honor and everything that's fine, but when the classic poets begin writing reams of rot about it, it's time—it's time somebody was sensible."

      "Poor Jerry," she laughed. "I'm so sorry for you."

      "Why?"

      "Because when you fall, you're going to fall so very hard."

      "How—fall?"

      "Fall in love. You will, some day. Everybody does. It's as sure as death or taxes."

      "Everybody! You haven't, have you?"

      "Oh, dear, no. Not yet. But I suppose I shall some day."

      Jerry regarded her in silence for a moment.

      "I didn't think you were a bit slushy."

      "I'm not slushy," indignantly. "I hate slushy people. Where did you get that word?"

      "Roger. He hates 'em too."

      "Your Roger doesn't like women, does he?"

      "No. He's very wise, Roger is. But sometimes I think he's prejudiced. I'd like you to know Roger, I really would."

      She gazed straight before her for a moment deliberating and then:

      "I hope you don't mind if I say so, but I think your Roger must be a good deal of a fossil."

      "A fossil. Now see here, Una—I can't have you talking about Roger like that."

      "He is. I'm sure of it. All theorists are."

      "He's not. He's the broadest fellow you ever knew."

      "Nobody's broad who ignores the existence of woman," she returned hotly. "It's sinful—that sort of philosophy. It's against nature. We're here—millions of us, working as hard as men do, earning our own way in the world, active, live intelligences, writing books, nursing in hospitals, cleaning the plague-spots out of the cities, influencing in a thousand ways the uplift of that coarser brute man and besides all this practicing a thousand acts of self-abnegation in the home. Keeping man's house, cooking his food, bearing his ch—"

      She stopped abruptly and bit her lip.

      "Bearing his—what?" asked Jerry.

      "Burdens," she blurted out. "Burdens—all sorts of burdens," she finished weakly.

      "I suppose there are things that women can do," said Jerry after a moment. "Of course, I don't know much about it. But—"

      "Well, it's time you did," she broke in again. "It may be beautiful here—inside these walls—an unbroken idyl of peace and contentment, but it isn't life. It's just existence, that's all. If I were a man, I'd want to do a man's work in the world. I wouldn't want to miss an hour of it, childhood, boyhood or manhood. I'd want to meet my temptations and conquer them. It's selfish, the way you live, unreal, cowardly."

      "See here, Una—"

      "I mean it. You've got me started and I can't help it. If I say anything that hurts, you'll have to put me out. But I'm going to tell you what I think."

      "You're rather bewildering. But I'm not a coward. I don't want you to say that. If you were a man, I'd give you a thrashing," he said quietly.

      Their glances must have flashed fire. Jerry's face was red, I'm sure, and his fingers were twitching to get hold of something, but the girl didn't flinch. Jerry told me afterward that he found his anger softening strangely as he looked at her and in a moment they were both smiling. The girl spoke first.

      "I've gone too far, Jerry. Forgive me."

      "Of course," he said awkwardly. "I suppose you've got a right to your opinions. But it isn't very pleasant to be told that one's life is a failure."

      "I didn't say that," she put in quickly. "You haven't failed, of course. You've missed something, but you've gained something too." Her words trailed slowly again and her gaze sought the deep woods. "Yes," she repeated softly and thoughtfully, "I'm very sure you've gained something."

      "What have I gained?"

      There was a long pause before she replied.

      "Simplicity," she said carefully. "Life, after all, nowadays, is so very complex," she sighed.

      But when he questioned as to what she meant, she waved him off. "No, I've said enough. I didn't intend to. Don't let's talk any more about what I think. Let's talk about what you think, what you read, what you do. People say you live in the woods most of the time—do you? Where? How?"

      "In a cabin. We built it. Would you like to see it? It's not far. I'll make you a cup of tea."

      As the reader will perceive, in these two conversations, lasting perhaps two hours, this slip of a girl, in mere idle curiosity, had touched with her silly chatter the vital, the vulnerable points of Jerry's philosophy of life. Fate had not been fair to me or with him. Less than a year; remained of Jerry's period of probation. In December the boy was to go out into the world. And through an unfortunate accident due to a broken iron, a chaos of half-baked ideas had come pouring through the breach. If I said that my labors of ten years had been useless or that the fruition of John Benham's ideals for his son were still in doubt I should be putting the matter too strongly, but I have no hesitancy in confessing that the appearance of the girl had at least put them in jeopardy. She had turned his mind into a direction which I had carefully avoided. He must think now and ask questions that I could not be ready to answer. By this time it must be well understood that I have no love for women, but I will do this girl the credit of saying that in a general way she saw fit to respect Jerry's artlessness. I think that the sex instinct, so ready with its antagonisms, its insinuations, its alternate attacks and defenses, was atrophied as in the presence of a phenomenon. She was modern enough, God knows, but she had some delicacy at least and was impotent before the splendor of Jerry's innocence.

      What they said on the way to the cabin must have been unimportant. I suppose Jerry told her about his routine at the Manor and something of what I had taught him of woodcraft, but I think that she was very reticent in speaking of herself. No doubt her unceremonious visit to our domain and the unusual intimacy of their conversation had made it seem necessary to her to preserve her incognito, or perhaps it was coquetry, which no woman, however placed, is quite without. As far as I have been able to learn, they were as two children, the girl's mind as well as her actions, in spite of her sophistication, reflecting the artlessness of her companion. The damage that she had done, as I was afterwards to discover, was mainly by the force of suggestion. She assumed the absurd premises of modernity, drew her own preposterous conclusions and Jerry drank them in, absorbed them as he did all information, like a sponge.

      CHAPTER VI

      THE CABIN

      Having decided upon a course of action, I lost no time in setting forth, following the Sweetwater to the wall and then, not finding Jerry, making as though by instinct for the cabin. Perhaps I may be pardoned for approaching the place with cautious footsteps. I was justified, I think, by the anxiety of the СКАЧАТЬ