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.And it makes me feel grown-up, the thoughtof it, the very thought of it; and I feel that I am possessed of something that is by rights my own--that makes me like the othergirls--and--and young women.And, then, too, I knew that I was not like them before, and I knew that it worried you.You thoughtyou did not let me know that dear worry of yours, but I did, and I wanted to--'to make good,' as Martin Eden says."It was a holy hour for mother and daughter, and their eyes were wet as they talked on in the twilight, Ruth all white innocence andfrankness, her mother sympathetic, receptive, yet calmly explaining and guiding."He is four years younger than you," she said."He has no place in the world.He has neither position nor salary.He is impractical.Loving you, he should, in the name of common sense, be doing something that would give him the right to marry, instead of palteringaround with those stories of his and with childish dreams.Martin Eden, I am afraid, will never grow up.He does not take toresponsibility and a man's work in the world like your father did, or like all our friends, Mr.Butler for one.Martin Eden, I am afraid,will never be a money-earner.And this world is so ordered that money is necessary to happiness--oh, no, not these swollen fortunes,but enough of money to permit of common comfort and decency.He--he has never spoken?""He has not breathed a word.He has not attempted to; but if he did, I would not let him, because, you see, I do not love him."Martin Eden 63/161 Martin Eden"I am glad of that.I should not care to see my daughter, my one daughter, who is so clean and pure, love a man like him.There arenoble men in the world who are clean and true and manly.Wait for them.You will find one some day, and you will love him and beloved by him, and you will be happy with him as your father and I have been happy with each other.And there is one thing you mustalways carry in mind--""Yes, mother."Mrs.Morse's voice was low and sweet as she said, "And that is the children.""I--have thought about them," Ruth confessed, remembering the wanton thoughts that had vexed her in the past, her face again redwith maiden shame that she should be telling such things."And it is that, the children, that makes Mr.Eden impossible," Mrs.Morse went on incisively."Their heritage must be clean, and he is,I am afraid, not clean.Your father has told me of sailors' lives, and--and you understand."Ruth pressed her mother's hand in assent, feeling that she really did understand, though her conception was of something vague,remote, and terrible that was beyond the scope of imagination."You know I do nothing without telling you," she began."--Only, sometimes you must ask me, like this time.I wanted to tell you, butI did not know how.It is false modesty, I know it is that, but you can make it easy for me.Sometimes, like this time, you must ask me,you must give me a chance.""Why, mother, you are a woman, too!" she cried exultantly, as they stood up, catching her mother's hands and standing erect, facingher in the twilight, conscious of a strangely sweet equality between them."I should never have thought of you in that way if we hadnot had this talk.I had to learn that I was a woman to know that you were one, too.""We are women together," her mother said, drawing her to her and kissing her."We are women together," she repeated, as they wentout of the room, their arms around each other's waists, their hearts swelling with a new sense of companionship."Our little girl has become a woman," Mrs.Morse said proudly to her husband an hour later."That means," he said, after a long look at his wife, "that means she is in love.""No, but that she is loved," was the smiling rejoinder."The experiment has succeeded.She is awakened at last.""Then we'll have to get rid of him." Mr.Morse spoke briskly, in matter- of-fact, businesslike tones.But his wife shook her head."It will not be necessary.Ruth says he is going to sea in a few days.When he comes back, she will not behere.We will send her to Aunt Clara's.And, besides, a year in the East, with the change in climate, people, ideas, and everything, isjust the thing she needs."CHAPTER XXThe desire to write was stirring in Martin once more.Stories and poems were springing into spontaneous creation in his brain, and hemade notes of them against the future time when he would give them expression.But he did not write.This was his little vacation; hehad resolved to devote it to rest and love, and in both matters he prospered.He was soon spilling over with vitality, and each day hesaw Ruth, at the moment of meeting, she experienced the old shock of his strength and health."Be careful," her mother warned her once again."I am afraid you are seeing too much of Martin Eden."But Ruth laughed from security.She was sure of herself, and in a few days he would be off to sea.Then, by the time he returned, shewould be away on her visit East.There was a magic, however, in the strength and health of Martin.He, too, had been told of hercontemplated Eastern trip, and he felt the need for haste.Yet he did not know how to make love to a girl like Ruth.Then, too, he washandicapped by the possession of a great fund of experience with girls and women who had been absolutely different from her.Theyhad known about love and life and flirtation, while she knew nothing about such things.Her prodigious innocence appalled him,freezing on his lips all ardors of speech, and convincing him, in spite of himself, of his own unworthiness.Also he was handicapped inanother way.He had himself never been in love before.He had liked women in that turgid past of his, and been fascinated by some ofthem, but he had not known what it was to love them.He had whistled in a masterful, careless way, and they had come to him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.And it makes me feel grown-up, the thoughtof it, the very thought of it; and I feel that I am possessed of something that is by rights my own--that makes me like the othergirls--and--and young women.And, then, too, I knew that I was not like them before, and I knew that it worried you.You thoughtyou did not let me know that dear worry of yours, but I did, and I wanted to--'to make good,' as Martin Eden says."It was a holy hour for mother and daughter, and their eyes were wet as they talked on in the twilight, Ruth all white innocence andfrankness, her mother sympathetic, receptive, yet calmly explaining and guiding."He is four years younger than you," she said."He has no place in the world.He has neither position nor salary.He is impractical.Loving you, he should, in the name of common sense, be doing something that would give him the right to marry, instead of palteringaround with those stories of his and with childish dreams.Martin Eden, I am afraid, will never grow up.He does not take toresponsibility and a man's work in the world like your father did, or like all our friends, Mr.Butler for one.Martin Eden, I am afraid,will never be a money-earner.And this world is so ordered that money is necessary to happiness--oh, no, not these swollen fortunes,but enough of money to permit of common comfort and decency.He--he has never spoken?""He has not breathed a word.He has not attempted to; but if he did, I would not let him, because, you see, I do not love him."Martin Eden 63/161 Martin Eden"I am glad of that.I should not care to see my daughter, my one daughter, who is so clean and pure, love a man like him.There arenoble men in the world who are clean and true and manly.Wait for them.You will find one some day, and you will love him and beloved by him, and you will be happy with him as your father and I have been happy with each other.And there is one thing you mustalways carry in mind--""Yes, mother."Mrs.Morse's voice was low and sweet as she said, "And that is the children.""I--have thought about them," Ruth confessed, remembering the wanton thoughts that had vexed her in the past, her face again redwith maiden shame that she should be telling such things."And it is that, the children, that makes Mr.Eden impossible," Mrs.Morse went on incisively."Their heritage must be clean, and he is,I am afraid, not clean.Your father has told me of sailors' lives, and--and you understand."Ruth pressed her mother's hand in assent, feeling that she really did understand, though her conception was of something vague,remote, and terrible that was beyond the scope of imagination."You know I do nothing without telling you," she began."--Only, sometimes you must ask me, like this time.I wanted to tell you, butI did not know how.It is false modesty, I know it is that, but you can make it easy for me.Sometimes, like this time, you must ask me,you must give me a chance.""Why, mother, you are a woman, too!" she cried exultantly, as they stood up, catching her mother's hands and standing erect, facingher in the twilight, conscious of a strangely sweet equality between them."I should never have thought of you in that way if we hadnot had this talk.I had to learn that I was a woman to know that you were one, too.""We are women together," her mother said, drawing her to her and kissing her."We are women together," she repeated, as they wentout of the room, their arms around each other's waists, their hearts swelling with a new sense of companionship."Our little girl has become a woman," Mrs.Morse said proudly to her husband an hour later."That means," he said, after a long look at his wife, "that means she is in love.""No, but that she is loved," was the smiling rejoinder."The experiment has succeeded.She is awakened at last.""Then we'll have to get rid of him." Mr.Morse spoke briskly, in matter- of-fact, businesslike tones.But his wife shook her head."It will not be necessary.Ruth says he is going to sea in a few days.When he comes back, she will not behere.We will send her to Aunt Clara's.And, besides, a year in the East, with the change in climate, people, ideas, and everything, isjust the thing she needs."CHAPTER XXThe desire to write was stirring in Martin once more.Stories and poems were springing into spontaneous creation in his brain, and hemade notes of them against the future time when he would give them expression.But he did not write.This was his little vacation; hehad resolved to devote it to rest and love, and in both matters he prospered.He was soon spilling over with vitality, and each day hesaw Ruth, at the moment of meeting, she experienced the old shock of his strength and health."Be careful," her mother warned her once again."I am afraid you are seeing too much of Martin Eden."But Ruth laughed from security.She was sure of herself, and in a few days he would be off to sea.Then, by the time he returned, shewould be away on her visit East.There was a magic, however, in the strength and health of Martin.He, too, had been told of hercontemplated Eastern trip, and he felt the need for haste.Yet he did not know how to make love to a girl like Ruth.Then, too, he washandicapped by the possession of a great fund of experience with girls and women who had been absolutely different from her.Theyhad known about love and life and flirtation, while she knew nothing about such things.Her prodigious innocence appalled him,freezing on his lips all ardors of speech, and convincing him, in spite of himself, of his own unworthiness.Also he was handicapped inanother way.He had himself never been in love before.He had liked women in that turgid past of his, and been fascinated by some ofthem, but he had not known what it was to love them.He had whistled in a masterful, careless way, and they had come to him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]