the conflict-第44章
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utalizing。
If Jane had been poor； or had remained a few years longeruntil her character was better setunder the restraining influence of her unfrilled and unfrillable father； her passion for power； for superiority would probably have impelled her to develop her mind into a source of power and position。 Fate abruptly gave her the speediest and easiest means to power known in our plutocratic civilization。 She would have had to be superhuman in beauty of character or a genius in mind to have rejected the short and easy way to her goal and struggled on in the long and hardand doubtfulway。
She did not herself appreciate the change within herself。 She fancied she was still what she had been two weeks before。 For as yet nothing had occurred to enable her to realize her changed direction； her changed view of life。 Thus； she was still thinking of Victor Dorn as she had thought of him； and she was impatient to see him。 She was now free FREE！ She could； without consulting anybody； have what she wanted。 And she wanted Victor Dorn。
She had dropped from her horse and with her arm through the bridle was strolling along one of the quieter roads which Victor often took in his rambles。 It was a tonic October day； with floods of sunshine upon the gorgeous autumnal foliage； never more gorgeous than in that fall of the happiest alternations of frost and warmth。 She heard the pleasant rustle of quick steps in the fallen leaves that carpeted the byroad。 She knew it was he before she glanced； and his first view of her face was of its beauty enhanced by a color as delicate and charming as that in the leaves about them。
She looked at his hands in which he was holding something half concealed。 ‘‘What is it？'' she said； to cover her agitation。
He opened his hands a little wider。 ‘‘A bird；'' said he。 ‘‘Some hunter has broken its wing。 I'm taking it to Charlton for repairs and a fair start for its winter down South。''
His eyes noted for an instant significantly her sombre riding costume； then sought her eyes with an expression of simple and friendly sympathy。 The tears came to her eyes； and she turned her face away。 She for the first time had a sense of loss； a moving memory of her father's goodness to her； of an element of tenderness that had passed out of her life forever。 And she felt abjectly ashamedashamed of her relief at the lifting of the burden of his long struggle against death； ashamed of her miserable wranglings with Martha and Billy's wife； ashamed of her forgetfulness of her father in the exultation over her wealth； ashamed of the elaborately fashionable mourning she was wearingand of the black horse she had bought to match。 She hoped he would not observe these last flauntings of the purely formal character of a grief that was being utilized to make a display of fashionableness。
‘‘You always bring out the best there is in me；'' said she。
He stood silently before hernot in embarrassment； for he was rarely self…conscious enough to be embarrassed； but refraining from speech simply because there was nothing to say。
‘‘I haven't heard any of the details of the election；'' she went on。 ‘‘Did you come out as well as you hoped？''
‘‘Better；'' said he。 ‘‘As a result of the election the membership of the League has already a little more than doubled。 We could have quadrupled it； but we are somewhat strict in our requirements。 We want only those who will stay members as long as they stay citizens of Remsen City。 But I must go on to Charlton or he'll be out on his rounds。''
She caught his glance； which was inclined to avoid hers。 She gave him a pleading look。 ‘‘I'll walk with you part of the way；'' she said。
He seemed to be searching for an excuse to get away。 Whether because he failed to find it or because he changed his mind； he said： ‘‘You'll not mind going at a good gait？''
‘‘I'll ride；'' said she。 ‘‘It's not comfortable； walking fast in these boots。''
He stood by to help her； but let her get into the saddle alone。 She smiled down at him with a little coquetry。 ‘‘Are you afraid 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
