第145章

"That woman is you," he continued in the same solemn measured way."Rod will not marry you.He cannot leave you.And you are dragging him down.You are young.You don't know that passionate love is a man's worst enemy.It satisfies his ambition--why struggle when one already has attained the climax of desire? It saps his strength, takes from him the energy without which achievement is impossible.Passion dies poisoned of its own sweets.But passionate love kills--at least, it kills the man.If you did not love him, I'd not be talking to you now.But you do love him.So I say, you are killing him....Don't think he has told me ""I know he didn't," she interrupted curtly."He does not whine."She hadn't a doubt of the truth of her loyal defense.And Drumley could not have raised a doubt, even if she had been seeing the expression of his face.His long practice of the modern editorial art of clearness and brevity and compact statement had enabled him to put into those few sentences more than another might have been unable to express in hours of explanation and appeal.And the ideas were not new to her.Rod had often talked them in a general way and she had thought much about them.Until now she had never seen how they applied to Rod and herself.But she was seeing and feeling it now so acutely that if she had tried to speak or to move she could not have done so.

After a long pause, Drumley said: "Do you comprehend what I mean?"She was silent--so it was certain that she comprehended.

"But you don't believe?...He began to borrow money almost immediately on his arrival here last summer.He has been borrowing ever since--from everybody and anybody.He owes now, as nearly as I can find out, upwards of three thousand dollars."Susan made a slight but sharp movement.

"You don't believe me?"

"Yes.Go on."

"He has it in him, I'm confident, to write plays--strong plays.

Does he ever write except ephemeral space stuff for the paper?""No."

"And he never will so long as he has you to go home to.He lives beyond his means because he will have you in comfortable surroundings and dressed to stimulate his passion.If he would marry you, it might be a little better--though still he would never amount to anything as long as his love lasted--the kind of love you inspire.But he will never marry you.I learned that from what I know of his ideas and from what I've observed as to your relations--not from anything he ever said about you."If Susan had been of the suspicious temperament, or if she had been a few years older, the manner of this second protest might have set her to thinking how unlike Drumley, the inexpert in matters of love and passion, it was to analyze thus and to form such judgments.And thence she might have gone on to consider that Drumley's speeches sounded strangely like paraphrases of Spenser's eloquent outbursts when he "got going." But she had not a suspicion.Besides, her whole being was concentrated upon the idea Drumley was trying to put into words.She asked:

"Why are you telling me?"

"Because I love him," replied Drumley with feeling."We're about the same age, but he's been like my son ever since we struck up a friendship in the first term of Freshman year.""Is that your only reason?"

"On my honor." And so firmly did he believe it, he bore her scrutiny as she peered into his face through the dimness.

She drew back."Yes," she said in a low voice, half to herself.

"Yes, I believe it is." There was silence for a long time, then she asked quietly:

"What do you think I ought to do?"

"Leave him--if you love him," replied Drumley.

"What else can you do?...Stay on and complete his ruin?""And if I go--what?"

"Oh, you can do any one of many things.You can----""I mean--what about him?"

"He will be like a crazy man for a while.He'll make that a fresh excuse for keeping on as he's going now.Then he'll brace up, and I'll be watching over him, and I'll put him to work in the right direction.He can't be saved, he can't even be kept afloat as long as you are with him, or within reach.With you gone out of his life--his strength will return, his self-respect can be roused.I've seen the same thing in other cases again and again.I could tell you any number of stories of----""He does not care for me?"

"In _one_ way, a great deal.But you're like drink, like a drug to him.It is strange that a woman such as you, devoted, single-hearted, utterly loving, should be an influence for bad.

But it's true of wives also.The best wives are often the worst.

The philosophers are right.A man needs tranquillity at home.""I understand," said she."I understand--perfectly." And her voice was unemotional, as always when she was so deeply moved that she dared not release anything lest all should be released.

She was like a seated statue.The moon had moved so that it shone upon her face.He was astonished by its placid calm.He had expected her to rave and weep, to protest and plead--before denouncing him and bidding him mind his own business.Instead, she was making it clear that after all she did not care about Roderick; probabLy she was wondering what would become of her, now that her love was ruined.Well, wasn't it natural? Wasn't it altogether to her credit--wasn't it additional proof that she was a fine pure woman? How could she have continued deeply to care for a man scandalously untrue, and drunk much of the time?

Certainly, it was in no way her fault that Rod made her the object and the victim of the only kind of so-called love of which he was capable.No doubt one reason he was untrue to her was that she was too pure for his debauched fancy.Thus reasoned Drumley with that mingling of truth and error characteristic of those who speculate about matters of which they have small and unfixed experience.