"Mrs. Abbott," he exclaimed, "how can anyone understand what you are driving at?"

But I turned away without answering, and for a long time sat gazing over the water. What was the use of pleading with such a man? What was the use of pouring out one's soul to him? I would tell Sylvia the truth at once, and leave him to her!

25. I heard him again, at last; he was talking to my back, his tone a trifle less aloof. "Mrs. Abbott, do you realize that I know nothing whatever about you--your character, your purpose, the nature of your hold upon my wife? So what means have I of judging? You threaten me with something that seems to me entirely insane--and what can I make of it?

If you wish me to understand you, tell me in plain words what you want."

I reflected that I was in the world, and must take it as I found it. "I have told you what I want," I said; "but I will tell you again, if it is necessary. I hoped to persuade you that it was your duty to go to your wife and tell her the truth."

He took a few moments to make sure of his self-possession. "And would you explain what good you imagine that could do?"

"Your wife," I said, "must be put in position to protect herself in future. There is no means of making sure in such a matter, except to tell her the truth. You love her--and you are a man who has never been accustomed to do without what he wants."

"Great G.o.d, woman!" he cried. "Don't you suppose one blind child is enough?"

It was the first human word that he had spoken, and I was grateful for it. "I have already covered that point," I said, in a low voice. "The medical books are full of painful evidence that several blind children are often not enough. There can be no escaping the necessity--Sylvia must _know._ The only question is, who shall tell her? You must realize that in urging you to be the person, I am thinking of your good as well as hers. I will, of course, not mention that I have had anything to do with persuading you, and so it will seem to her that you have some realization of the wrong you have done her, some desire to atone for it, and to be honourable and fair in your future dealings with her. When she has once been made to realize that you are no more guilty than other men of your cla.s.s--hat you have done no worse than all of them----

"You imagine she could be made to believe that?" he broke in, impatiently.

"I will undertake to see that she believes it," I replied.

"You seem to have great confidence in your ability to manage my wife!"

"If you continue to resent my existence," I answered, gravely, "you will make it impossible for me to help you."

"Pardon me," he said--but he did not say it cordially.

I went on: "There is much that can be said in your behalf. I realize it is quite possible that you were not wholly to blame when you wrote to Bishop Chilton that you were fit to marry; I know that you may have believed it--that you might even have found physicians to tell you so.

There is wide-spread ignorance on the subject of this disease. Men have the idea that the chronic forms of it cannot be communicated to women, and it is difficult to make them realize what modern investigations have proven. You can explain that to Sylvia, and I will back you up in it.

You were in love with her, you wanted her. Go to her now, and admit to her honestly that you have wronged her. Beg her to forgive you, and to let you help make the best of the cruel situation that has arisen."

So I went on, pouring out my soul. And when I had finished, he said, "Mrs. Abbott, I have listened patiently to your most remarkable proposition. My answer is that I must ask you to withdraw from this intimate matter, which concerns only my wife and myself."

He was back where we started! Trying to sweep aside these grim and terrible realities with the wave of a conventional hand! Was this the way he met Sylvia's arguments? I felt moved to tell him what I thought of him.

"You are a proud man, Mr. van Tuiver--an obstinate man, I fear. It is hard for you to humble yourself to your wife--to admit a crime and beg forgiveness. Tell me--is that why you hesitate? Is it because you fear you will have to take second place in your family from now on--that you will no longer be able to dominate Sylvia? Are you afraid of putting into her hands a weapon of self-defence?"

He made no response.

"Very well," I said, at last. "Let me tell you, then--I will not help any man to hold such a position in a woman's life. Women have to bear half the burdens of marriage, they pay half, or more than half, the penalties; and so it is necessary that they have a voice in its affairs.

Until they know the truth, they can never have a voice."

Of course my little lecture on Feminism might as well have been delivered to a sphinx. "How stupid you are!" I cried. "Don't you know that some day Sylvia must find out the truth for herself?"

This was before the days when newspapers and magazines began to discuss such matters frankly; but still there were hints to be picked up. I had a newspaper-item in my bag--the board of health in a certain city had issued a circular giving instructions for the prevention of blindness in newly-born infants, and discussing the causes thereof; and the United States post office authorities had barred the circular from the mails. I said, "Suppose that item had come under Sylvia's eyes; might it not have put her on the track. It was in her newspaper the day before yesterday; and it was only by accident that I got hold of it first. Do you suppose that can go on forever?"

"Now that I am here," he replied, "I will be glad to relieve you of such responsibilities."

Which naturally made me cross. I drew from my quiver an arrow that I thought would penetrate his skin. "Mr. van Tuiver," I said, "a man in your position must always be an object of gossip and scandal. Suppose some enemy were to send your wife an anonymous letter? Or suppose there were some woman who thought that you had wronged her?"

I stopped. He gave me one keen look--and then again the impenetrable mask! "My wife will have to do as other women in her position do--pay no attention to scandal-mongers of any sort."

I paused, and then went on: "I believe in marriage. I consider it a sacred thing; I would do anything in my power to protect and preserve a marriage. But I hold that it must be an equal partnership. I would fight to make it that; and wherever I found that it could not be that, I would say it was not marriage, but slavery, and I would fight just as hard to break it. Can you not understand that att.i.tude upon a woman's part?"

He gave no sign that he could understand. But still I would not give up my battle. "Mr. van Tuiver," I pleaded, "I am a much older person than you. I have seen a great deal of life--I have seen suffering even worse than yours. And I am trying most earnestly to help you. Can you not bring yourself to talk to me frankly? Perhaps you have never talked with a woman about such matters--I mean, with a good woman. But I a.s.sure you that other men have found it possible, and never regretted the confidence they placed in me."

I went on to tell him about my own sons, and what I had done for them; I told him of a score of other boys in their cla.s.s who had come to me, making me a sort of mother-confessor. I do not think that I was entirely deceived by my own eloquence--there was, I am sure, a minute or two when he actually wavered. But then the habits of a precocious life-time rea.s.serted themselves, and he set his lips and told himself that he was Douglas van Tuiver. Such things might happen in raw Western colleges, but they were not according to the Harvard manner, nor the tradition of life in Fifth Avenue clubs.

He could not be a boy! He had never had any boyhood, any childhood--he had been a state personage ever since he had known that he was anything.

I found myself thinking suddenly of the thin-lipped old family lawyer, who had had much to do with shaping his character, and whom Sylvia described to me, sitting at her dinner-table and bewailing the folly of people who "admitted things." That was what made trouble for family lawyers--not what people did, but what they admitted. How easy it was to ignore impertinent questions! And how few people had the wit to do it!-it seemed as if the shade of the thin-lipped old family lawyer were standing by Douglas van Tuiver's side.

In a last desperate effort, I cried, "Even suppose that I grant your request, even suppose I agree not to tell Sylvia the truth--still the day will come when you will hear from her the point-blank question: 'Is my child blind because of this disease?' And what will you answer?"

He said, in his cold, measured tones, "I will answer that there are a thousand ways in which the disease can be innocently acquired."

For a long time there was silence between us. At last he spoke again, and his voice was as emotionless as if we had just met: "Do I understand you, madam, that if I reject your advice and refuse to tell my wife what you call the truth, it is your intention to tell her yourself?"

"You understand me correctly," I replied.

"And may I ask when you intend to carry out this threat?"

"I will wait," I said, "I will give you every chance to think it over--to consult with the doctors, in case you wish to. I will not take the step without giving you fair notice."

"For that I am obliged to you," he said, with a touch of irony; and that was our last word.

26. Our island was visible in the distance and I was impatient for the time when I should be free from this man's presence. But as we drew nearer, I noticed a boat coming out; it proved to be one of the smaller launches heading directly for us. Neither van Tuiver nor I spoke, but both of us watched it, and he must have been wondering, as I was, what its purpose could be. When it was near enough, I made out that its pa.s.sengers were Dr. Perrin and Dr. Gibson.

We slowed up, and the other boat did the same, and they lay within a few feet of each other. Dr. Perrin greeted van Tuiver, and after introducing the other man, he said: "We came out to have a talk with you. Would you be so good as to step into this boat?"

"Certainly," was the reply. The two launches were drawn side by side, and the transfer made; the man who was running the smaller launch stepped into ours--evidently having been instructed in advance.

"You will excuse us please?" said the little doctor to me. The man who had stepped into our launch spoke to the captain of it, and the power was then put on, and we moved away a sufficient distance to be out of hearing. I thought this a strange procedure, but I conjectured that the doctors had become nervous as to what I might have told van Tuiver. So I dismissed the matter from my mind, and spent my time reviewing the exciting adventure I had just pa.s.sed through.

How much impression had I made? It was hard for me to judge such a man.

He would pretend to be less concerned than he actually was. But surely he must see that he was in my power, and would have to give way in the end!

There came a hail from the little vessel, and we moved alongside again.

"Would you kindly step in here with us, Mrs. Abbott?" said Dr. Perrin, and when I had done so, he ordered the boatman to move away once more.

Van Tuiver said not a word, but I noted a strained look upon his face, and I thought the others seemed agitated also.

As soon as the other vessel was out of hearing, Dr. Perrin turned to me and said: "Mrs. Abbott, we came out to see Mr. van Tuiver, to warn him of a distressing accident which has just happened. Mrs. van Tuiver was asleep in her room, and Miss Lyman and another of the nurses were in the next room. They indiscreetly made some remarks on the subject which we have all been discussing--how much a wife should be told about these matters, and suddenly they discovered Mrs. van Tuiver standing in the doorway of the room."

My gaze had turned to Douglas van Tuiver. "So she _knows!_" I cried.

"We don't think that she knows, but she has a suspicion and is trying to find out. She asked to see you."

"Ah, yes!" I said.

"She declared that she wished to see you as soon as you returned--that she would not see anyone else, not even Mr. van Tuiver. You will understand that this portends trouble for all of us. We judged it necessary to have a consultation about the matter."