CHAPTER XIII
EMILY IS HERSELF FREELY
AS Emily turned from Mrs. Ralston's gate, she felt more buoyanthappiness than anything in life had ever hitherto brought her. She feltlicensed on high authority to revel in the hitherto forbidden. Shewanted Lorenzo Rath, and she thought that she understood how to get him.We may follow her thought and then we will follow where it led her, forin all the surge of the new teaching there is no lesson greater to learnthan this which Emily had failed to grasp,--that the possession of toolsdoes not make one a carver; that all things spiritual must be learnedexactly as all things material. One may have so lived previously thatthe learning is a mere showing how, but without experience nothing,either spiritual, mental, or physical, can be efficaciously handled.When people declare that something is not true because they tried it andit failed to work, remember Emily Mead. Emily had acquired just one ideaout of Jane's exposition: "That you could get anything that you want."It is the idea that hosts of people find most attractive in this world,quite irrespective of its correlative esotericism,--that the soulgrowing towards infinite power learns every upward step by resolutelyliking what it gets. No man can climb a stair by hacking down every steppassed; he climbs by being so firm upon each step that he can poise hiswhole weight thereon as he mounts. It is part of the supremely beautifullogic of the highest teaching that the same effort which Jesusmade--every great teacher has made--is sure to make, too. We must seethe Divine embodied in the Present and the Weak and the Humble, beforein our own spirit we may deal, for the good of all, with the Future andStrength and Power. When one seizes upon anything God-given as a meansof acquiring earth-gifts, one has but seized the empty air; the idea andthen ideal have never been in the possession of such an one. There isnothing shut away from those who really make God's teaching a vital partof themselves, but such men and women are no longer keen to selfishlypossess, and the good which they reach out for flows easily in for theirfurther distribution; in other words, they become what we were alldesigned to be,--the outward manifestations of God's purpose, the livingbreathing, blessed servants of His will.
How far this interpretation lay from poor Emily's comprehension thereader knows.
She hurried along, her whole being bounding with joy over the simplicityof the new lesson. It all seemed almost too story-book-like to behappening in her stupid, commonplace life. She had spent so many longhours in thinking over how things would never happen for her, that shehad entirely lost faith in their ever changing their ways and now, allof a sudden, here was a complete reversal. Bonds were turned into wings;that unattainable being, a live man, was not only at hand, butavailable; she felt herself bidden not to doubt her power; she judgedherself advised to say frankly all the things that girls may never say.This was the day of feminine freedom. To wish was to have. What onewanted was the thing that was best for one. Emily--with all of Jane'sideas swimming upside down in her head--felt superbly joyous andconfident. After all, being alive was a pretty good thing.
She turned a corner into the lane that led in a roundabout way to hermother's back garden gate and walked swiftly. She was a fine, straightgirl with a lithe, springy walk. Perhaps Lorenzo Rath could not havedone better, from most standpoints, than to marry such an one. Many mendo worse. And there was old Mr. Cattermole's money, too. Some of theseviews float in all human atmosphere to-day--float there securely,because the world is a practical world, and an automobile is obvious,while love and trust are absolutely unknown to many. "Ye cannot serveGod and Mammon too," and Mammon is very plain and practical, rolling onrubber tires to the best restaurant. Emily could not have reduced herroseate visions to any such sordid reasoning, but love to her meantleaving town and having a good-looking and lively young man to take herabout. This was not really love, any more than the means by which sheexpected to acquire it were the religion taught by Jane. We hear much ofthe downfall of love and the downfall of religion in these days, but noone even stops to realize that religion and love cannot possibly evenshake on their thrones. Their counterfeits may crumble and tumble, butreal truth can never fail. It was the counterfeits at which Emily, likemany another, grasped eagerly.
So now she was tripping lightly along and, turning the twist by thegreat chestnut tree, her heart gave a sudden flop, for just ahead shesaw her quarry. He was propped against the fence, using his knees for aneasel, while he made a rapid water-color sketch. He was good at thoselittle impressions of an artistic bit, that nearly always show forth inyouth a great artist struggling to grow.
Emily started, for she was very close to him before she saw him, and herrampant thoughts led her to blush, apologize, and stammer precisely asshe might have done, had her sex never advanced at all but merelyremained the dominant note that they have always been.
"Why, Mr. Rath," and then she paused.
Lorenzo--who wanted to finish his sketch--nodded pleasantly withoutlooking up. "Grand day for walking," he said, as a supremely politehint, and continued to work rapidly.
Emily went close beside him and looked downward upon the canvas. "Howpretty! I wish I knew more about pictures. What is that brown hill? Youcan't see a hill from here."
"That's a cow," said Lorenzo, painting very fast indeed, "but don't askme to explain things, for I can't work and talk at the same time."
Emily sank down beside him with a pleasant sense of proprietorship nowthat she could get him by will power alone. "I've just come from Mrs.Ralston's. They're in such distress over old Mrs. Croft."
"Is she worse?" The artist forgot to paint all of a sudden, and turnedquickly towards her.
"Oh, no,--she was asleep when I left. Jane didn't seem a bit troubled,but Mrs. Ralston is almost wild over not knowing what to say to hersister when she comes back and finds that awful old woman there. It's aterrible situation. Everybody knows that young Mrs. Croft has run away.She just hated to stay and now she's gone. Isn't it awful?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Lorenzo, suddenly regaining his deep interestin work, "I have a distinct feeling that Miss Grey will bring things outall right for most people always. It's her way."
"Yes, she's a dear girl," said Emily, and paused to have time toconsider things a little while, feeling that the conversation should becontinued by the man. The man didn't continue the conversation, however,merely wielding his brush and looking completely absorbed.
Then she remembered her mission. "Mr. Rath, do you believe in franknessalways?"
"I wish that I did."
"But don't you?"
"Civilization wouldn't stand for it."
"Perhaps not every one could bear it, but some could. I could, I'msure."
"Are you so sure?"
"Yes, I am sure. I was talking with Jane alone just at the gate before Ileft, and she believes that frankness is best always."
"It's easiest, certainly." Lorenzo raised his eyebrows a littleimpatiently, but she paid no attention.
"Do you think so?"
"Why, of course. When one wants to be let alone and blurts out, 'Let mealone,' why, one gets let alone."
"Oh, but that would be impolite," said Emily, feeling that for an artisthe used very crude metaphor. "Of course, Jane and I were not talkingabout that kind of people, or that kind of ways. We were talking ofpeople like you and me--nice people, you know. Jane advised me to bequite frank with you."
Lorenzo opened his eyes widely. "About what, please?"
"Oh, about all things. You see I meet so few men, and men are sointeresting, and I enjoy talking with them. I've read a good deal, and Idon't care for the life in this place. I want to leave it dreadfully."
"So do I," said the artist. "I quite agree with you there."
"You see, Jane has been teaching me to understand life, and I am gettingthe feeling that I am meant for something else than just helping mymother, wandering about town, and going to church. I'm very tired andrestless."
Lorenzo painted fast.
"Mr. Rath, if you--a man--felt as I do, what would you do?"
"Get out."
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"But where?"
"Everybody can find a way, if they really want to."
"It isn't as if I had talent, you see."
"A good many people haven't talent and yet do very well, indeed."
"But I don't want to be a shop-girl or anything like that."
"Naturally not."
There was a pause.
"I'm very much interested in the progress women are making," said Emily."I read all I can get hold of about it. Don't you think it remarkable?"
"I don't think much about it, and I skip everything on the subject."
"Oh, Mr. Rath!"
"I'm a jealous brute. I don't like to realize that a woman can doeverything that is a man's work, even to the verge of driving him tostarvation, while he can't do any of her work under any circumstances."
"He could wash and cook and sweep."
"Oh, he's invented machines to save her that."
"I see you've no sympathy with the advanced woman."
"Yes, I have. I'm very sorry for her. A nice mess the next generationwill be."
"Oh, dear."
"My one comfort is that boys take after their mothers, and I'm lookingto see a future generation of men so strong-minded that they smashladies back to where they belong--in the rear with the tents."
"Goodness, Mr. Rath, then you don't like any of the ways things aregoing?"
"Of course I don't. Once upon a time a busy man's time was sacred; nowany woman who feels like taking it, appropriates it mercilessly."
"I should lock the door, if I felt that way. But now really, don't youthink that we might speak quite openly and frankly?"
Lorenzo began to put up his paints.
"I want to get to the bottom of a lot of things."
"Well?"
"You're the first man that I've ever known that I felt could understandwhat I meant, and I do want to know the man's side of things."
"A man hasn't got any side nowadays. He's not allowed one."
Emily looked a little surprised. "You speak bitterly."
"I think I've a right. Men are still observing the rules of the game andsuffering bitter consequences."
"What do you mean?"
"Women with homes have gone into the world to earn some extra pocketmoney until they've knocked the bottom out of all wage systems, and younever can make the wildest among them see that women can't expect men'spay unless they do men's work. A man's work is only half of it inbusiness, the other half is supporting a family. Women want equal payand to spend the result as they please. The man's wages go usually onbread and the woman's on bonnets, to speak broadly. He goes to his ownhome at night and has every single bill for four to ten people. She goesto somebody else's house and has only her own needs to face, withperhaps some contribution towards those off somewhere."
"Dear me," said Emily, "I never thought of that."
"No," said Lorenzo, snapping the lid of his color box shut, "women don'tthink of that. But men do."
"But surely there are loads and loads of women who do support families."
"Yes, and who are dragged down by the injustice of what economists call'The Law of Supplemented Earnings'!"
Emily felt that the experience of conversing frankly with a live man wasnot exactly what she had anticipated. It certainly was in no wayromantic. She felt baffled and a good deal chilled. The conversation hadtaken a horrid twist away from what she had intended.
"You think that women have no right to go out in the world then?" shesaid. "You don't sympathize with the modern trend?"
"I sympathize with nature and human nature," said Lorenzo, "but not withcivilization." He rose to his feet.
"Oh, Mr. Rath!" she looked upward, expecting to be assisted to rise.
"I believe in life, lived by live things in the way God meant. I loathethis modern institution limping along with its burden of carefully fedand tended idiots and invalids and babies, better dead. I wish that Iwere a Zulu."
"Good Heavens!"
"Come," said the man, picking up his load, "we can go now."
"Had you finished?" She scrambled to her feet.
"I'd done all that I could under the circumstances."
"I suppose the light changes so fast at this time...." Emily was quiteunsuspicious and content. The intuition that used to reign supreme inwomen was especially lacking in her. She had not the least idea of whather presence meant to the unhappy artist.
"Come, come," he repeated impatiently.
They walked away then through the pretty winding lane.
"It seems to me so awful that we are all so hopeless," Emily went onpresently. "We are all put here and often see just what should be doneand can't do it possibly."
"I do exactly what I choose," said Lorenzo,--then he added: "as a usualthing."
"You must be very happy." She paused. "I suppose that you have plenty ofmoney to live as you please."
"I'm fortunate enough not to have any."
"Goodness!" the exclamation was sincere. The shock to Emily wasdreadful. "Why do you call that fortunate?" she asked, after a littlehasty agony of downfall as to rich and generous travel, spaced off bygoing to the theater.
"Because it makes me know that I shall do something in the world. A verylittle money is enough to swamp a man nowadays, when the idea of laterbeing supported by a woman is always a possibility. Oh," said Lorenzo,with sudden irritation, "if there weren't so many perfectly splendidwomen and girls in the world, I'd go off and become a Trappist.Everything's being knocked into a cocked hat. I've had girls practicallymake love to me. Disgusting."
Emily felt her heart hammer hard. "You're very old-fashioned in yourviews," she said, a little faintly.
They came out by her mother's back gate as she spoke.
"Yes, I am," said Lorenzo, "I admit it."
Mrs. Mead came running out of the back door. "Oh, Emily," she cried,"old Mrs. Croft is dead. Jane sent for the doctor--she sent a boyrunning--but she's dead. Wherever have you been for so long?"