XXV
I linger a little upon these trivial matters because I shrink from whatmust follow. They were scarcely blots upon our happiness; rather theywere motes in the sunshine which had no other cloud. It is true that Iwas always somewhat puzzled by a certain manner in Mrs. Gray, whichcertainly was from no unfriendliness for me; she could not have been moreaffectionate to me, after our engagement, if I had been really her ownson; and it was not until after our common kindness had confirmed itselfupon the new footing that I felt this perplexing qualification on it. Ifelt it first one day when I found her alone, and I talked long andfreely to her of Eveleth, and opened to her my whole heart of joy in ourlove. At one point she casually asked me how soon we should expect toreturn from Altruria after our visit; and at first I did not understand.
"Of course," she explained, "you will want to see all your old friends,and so will Eveleth, for they will be her friends, too; but if you wantme to go with you, as you say, you must let me know when I shall see NewYork again."
"Why," I said, "you will always be with us."
"Well, then," she pursued, with a smile, "when shall _you_ comeback?"
"Oh, never!" I answered. "No one ever leaves Altruria, if he can help it,unless he is sent on a mission."
She looked a little mystified, and I went on: "Of course, I was notofficially authorized to visit the world outside, but I was permitted todo so, to satisfy a curiosity the priors thought useful; but I have nowhad quite enough of it, and I shall never leave home again."
"You won't come to live in America?"
"God forbid!" said I, and I am afraid I could not hide the horror thatran through me at the thought. "And when you once see our happy country,you could no more be persuaded to return to America than a disembodiedspirit could be persuaded to return to the earth."
She was silent, and I asked: "But, surely, you understood this, Mrs.Gray?"
"No," she said, reluctantly. "Does Eveleth?"
"Why, certainly," I said. "We have talked it over a hundred times. Hasn'tshe--"
"I don't know," she returned, with a vague trouble in her voice and eyes."Perhaps I haven't understood her exactly. Perhaps--but I shall be readyto do whatever you and she think best. I am an old woman, you know; and,you know, I was born here, and I should feel the change."
Her words conveyed to me a delicate reproach; I felt for the first timethat, in my love of my own country, I had not considered her love ofhers. It is said that the Icelanders are homesick when they leave theirworld of lava and snow; and I ought to have remembered that an Americanmight have some such tenderness for his atrocious conditions, if he wereexiled from them forever. I suppose it was the large and wide mind ofEveleth, with its openness to a knowledge and appreciation of betterthings, that had suffered me to forget this. She seemed always so eagerto see Altruria, she imagined it so fully, so lovingly, that I had ceasedto think of her as an alien; she seemed one of us, by birth as well as byaffinity.
Yet now the words of her mother, and the light they threw upon thesituation, gave me pause. I began to ask myself questions I was impatientto ask Eveleth, so that there should be no longer any shadow of misgivingin my breast; and yet I found myself dreading to ask them, lest by someperverse juggle I had mistaken our perfect sympathy for a perfectunderstanding.
Through the Eye of the Needle: A Romance Page 26