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Page 21
But one day, having come in unexpectedly alone, he found her on the
divan in the living-room, evidently weeping, and his heart went out to
her. He flung himself down on his knees beside her.
"Oh, what is it? What is the matter?" he whispered.
Her whole body was writhing. She uncovered her eyes and looked at him
pitifully, and yet with a certain dignity. Those beautiful eyes,
brimming with tears, were not reddened, and their gaze was steady. "If I
tell you, will you keep my secret?" she whispered back, "or, rather, it
is not a secret since Doctor Gordon knows it. I wish he did not, but
will you keep your knowledge from him?"
"I promise you I will," said James fervently.
"I am terribly ill," said Mrs. Ewing simply. "I suffer at times
tortures. Don't ask me what the matter is. It is too dreadful, and
although I have no reason to feel so, it seems to me ignominious. I am
ashamed of being so ill. I feel disgraced by it, wicked." She covered
her face again and sobbed.
"Don't, don't," said James, out of his senses completely. "Don't, I
can't bear it. I love you so. Don't! I will cure you."
"You cannot. Doctor Gordon does not admit that my case is hopeless, but
he gives no hope, and you must have noticed how he suffers when he sees
me suffer. He runs away from me because he can do nothing to help me.
That is the worst of it all. I could bear the pain for myself, but for
the others, too! Oh, I wish there was some little back door of life out
of which one could slip, and no blame to anybody, in a case like this.
But there is nothing but the horrible front door, which means such agony
to everybody who is left, as well as the one that goes." Mrs. Ewing had
completely lost control of herself. She sobbed again and moaned.
James covered one of her cold hands with kisses. "Don't, don't," he
begged. "Don't, I love you."
Suddenly Mrs. Ewing came to the comprehension of what he said. She
looked at his bent head--James had a curly head like a boy's--and a
strange look came into her eyes, as if she were regarding him across an
immeasurable gulf. Nobody had ever seemed quite so far away in the world
as this boy with his cry of love to the woman old enough to be his
mother. It was not the fact of her superior age alone, it was her
disease, it was her sense of being done forever with anything like this
that gave her, as it were, a view of earth from outside, and yet she had
a sense of comfort. James was even weeping. She felt his tears on her
hand. It did her good that anybody could love her so little as to be
able to stay by and see her suffer, and weep for her, and not rush forth
in a rage of misery like Thomas Gordon. In a second, however, she had
command of herself. She drew her hand away. "Doctor Elliot," she said,
"you forget yourself."
"No, no, I don't," protested James. "It is not as if I--I were thinking
of you in that way. I am not. I know you could not possibly think of me
as a girl might. It is only because I love you. I have never seen
anybody like you."
"You must put me out of your head," said Mrs. Ewing. "I am old enough to
be your mother; I am ill unto death. You must not love me in any way."
"I cannot help it"
Mrs. Ewing hesitated. "I have a mind to tell you something," she said in
a low voice. "Can I rely upon you?"
"I would die before I told, if you said I was not to," cried James.
"It might almost come to that," said the woman gravely. "A very serious
matter is involved, otherwise there would not be this secrecy. I cannot
tell you what the matter is, but I can tell you something which will
cure you of loving me."
"I don't want to be cured," protested James, "and I have told you it is
a love like worship, it is not--"
Mrs. Ewing interrupted him. "The worship of a young man is not to be
trusted," she said. "I cannot have you made to suffer. I will tell you,
but, remember, if you betray me you will do awful harm. Neither the
doctor nor Clemency even must know that I tell you. The doctor knows, of
course, the secret; Clemency does not know, and must never know. It
would be the undoing of all of us, the terrible undoing, if this were to
get out, but I will tell you. You are a good boy, and you shall be
spared needless pain. Listen." She leaned forward and whispered close to
his ear. James started back, and stared at her as white as death. Mrs.
Ewing smiled. "It hurts a little, I know," she said, "but better this
now than worse later. You are foolish to feel so about me; you were at a
disadvantage in coming here. It is only right that you should know. Now
never speak to me again about this. Think of me as your friend, and your
friend who is in very great suffering and pain, and have sympathy for
me, if you can, but not so much sympathy that you too will suffer. I
want sympathy, but not agony like poor Tom's. That makes it harder for
me."
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