Robert Herrick

“ I am sorry for her."
"I suppose the reason why a man and a woman hurt instead of help each other in marriage is never known to any one but themselves," Margaret observed dryly, urging on the horse. "And perhaps not even to themselves!"
There was a change in Margaret, an inner ferment that displayed itself in the haze in her clear eyes,—the look of one whose mind broods over the past,—a heightened color, a controlled restlessness of mood. 'No, it is not settled,' thought Isabelle. 'Poor Margaret!' She went about her many duties with the same silent sureness, the same poise as before. ”

“ The thing to do will always be clear, once you trust yourself, seek wholly the Vision. And as for beauty and satisfaction and significance,—it is infinite in every moment of every life—when the eyes are once open to see!"
There was the sound of footsteps outside, and Isabelle moved to the door.
"So," Renault concluded, putting his hands on her shoulders, "it is not the End but the Beginning. And always so,—a mysterious journey, this life, with countless beginnings.... We go out into the night. But the light comes—when we forget to see ourselves." ”

“ Under the clear morning sun it was still and fresh, yet untouched, untamed.
"It is the roof of the world," she repeated, "high and dry and extraordinarily vast,—leading your eyes onward and upward to the heavens, with all the rest of the earth below you in the fog. How I should like to live here always! If I were you, Isabelle, I should get your husband to give you a freight-car like those the gangs of track-layers use, with a little stovepipe sticking out of one corner, and just camp down in it here,—on the roof of the world." ”

“ Lane lighted a cigar and sipped his coffee. Revived by his dinner and cigar, he began to talk more freely, in the same mood of disgusted irritation, the mood of his class these days, of the men he met at his club, in business,—the lawyers, the capitalists, the leaders of society. Isabelle, listening to his bitter criticism, wished that she might get him to speak more personally,—tell her all the detail that had led up to the suit, explain his connection with it,—show her his inmost heart as he would show it to himself in a time of exact truth! ”

“ The delicate blue, the many grays of storm and mist gave it color, also. But in place of the canon's eternal quiet,—the solitude of the remote gods,—this city boiled and hummed. That, too,—the realization of multitudinous humanity,—made Isabelle's pulses leap.
In spite of her poor health, she had the satisfaction of at last being here, in the big hive, where she had wished to be so long. She was a part of it, a painfully insignificant mite as yet, but still a part of it. Hitherto New York had been a sort of varied hotel, an entertainment. ”

“ It is a faith in life apart from our own personal fate.... Because we live on the surface, we despair, we get sick. Look below into the sustaining depths beyond desire, beyond self, to the depths,—and you will find it. It will uplift you.... When you wake in the morning, there will come to you some mysterious power that was not there before, some belief, some hope, some faith. Grasp it! ... When the clouds lift, the physical clouds and the mental clouds, then appears the Vision and the knowledge. They are the truth from the depths within,—the voice of the spirit that lives always. ”

“ Isabelle wanted to help him; she was afraid that he was being troubled again by lack of money. Art and letters were badly paid, and Tom, she was forced to admit, was not provident.
"But you are happy to-night," she had said coaxingly on the ferry. "We are going to be very gay, and forget things!" That was what Tom did for her,—made her forget things, and return to the mood of youth where all seemed shining and gay. She did that for him, too,—amused and distracted him, with her little impetuosities and girlish frankness. "You are such a good fellow—you put heart into a man," he had said. ”

“ Falkner suggested slyly. He had heard Margaret inveigh against certain less restricted societies.
"But the old man said, 'Winters are best of all—when it's fierce outside, and there's nothing but yourself to amuse yourself with!' That's the man. And he said: 'I like the blows, too. I've been on the sea all my life, and I don't know nothing about it to speak on.' He has a sense of what it means,—all this greatness about him."
"But her element, you forget, is Lawrence, Mass."
"The man has the imagination, if he is a man! If he is a man! Woman just tails on,—as I cling to you, dearest!" ”

“ Just what evil Conny had done to Cairy Isabelle could not say, ending always with the phrase, "but I don't trust her," or "she is so selfish." She had made these comments to Margaret Pole, and Margaret had answered with one of her enigmatic smiles and the remark:—
"Conny's no more selfish than most of us women,—only her methods are more direct—and successful."
"That is cynical," Isabelle retorted. "Most of us women are not selfish; I am not!"
And in her childlike way she asked her husband that very night:—
"John, do you think I am selfish?" ”

“ This male fire was as mysterious, as inexplicable to her as that first night,—something to be endured forgivingly, but feared, almost hated for its fierce invasion of her. If her husband could only take her as companion,—the deep, deep friend, the first and best for the long journey of life! Perhaps some day that would content him; perhaps this flower of passion came only at first, to be subdued by the work of life. She never dreamed that some day she herself might change, might be waked by passion. And yet she knew that she loved her husband, yearned to give him all that he desired. ”

“ The frost-covered train from the north drew up at the platform in a cloud of steam. The fireman, a lad of eighteen, with a curl waving from under his cap, was leaning far out of the cab, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the snowy mountains just visible from White River. He was careless,—alive, and content this fine morning,—his grimy arms bare on the sill of the cab window, the broad earth and its hills spread before him. As the engine shot past, he looked down at Isabelle, curiously, and then up to the mountains again, as if his life were complete enough. ”

“ A feeling that she was in the presence of mystery—the mystery of perfect human union—stole through Isabelle. The woman standing there at the feet of her dead man had had it all,—all the experience that woman can have. Had she not loved this man, received his passion, borne his children, fought by his side the fight of life,—and above all and beyond all else cherished in her the soul of the man, the sacred part of him, that beauty unknown to others hitherto, now written plain for all to see on his face! ”

“ The old man—now he was obviously old even to Isabelle—would come to her room and sit for long hours silent, as if he, too, was waiting for the coming of the new life into his house.
These two deaths so unlike, the tragic end of Darnell and her brother's sudden removal, sank deep into her, sounding to her in the midst of her own childish preoccupation with her own life, the intricacy, the mystery of all existence. Life was larger than a private garden hedged with personal ambitions. She was the instrument of forces outside her being. ”

“ I can see why Rob married her. She has wrecked herself,—her own life. She would never submit to what the doctor calls the discipline of life. She liked herself just as she was; she wanted to be always a child of nature, to win the world with her charm, to have everything nice and pleasant and gay about her, and be petted into the bargain. Now she is gray and homely and in bad health—and bitter. It is pitiful to wake up at forty after you have been a child all your life, and realize that life was never what you thought it was.... ”

“ When the zest of the wandering days no longer thrills, the adventurous and experimenting impulse is spent, that is what man, even a passionate lover, craves to find in a woman,—peace and the ordered life. And she could give it to this man, who had never had it,—companionship and comradeship as well, and make an inner spot of peace where the man might withdraw from the fighting world. Oh, she knew how to fit his life like a spirit! ...
When Falkner rose to leave, Margaret slipped on a long coat, saying:—
"I will show you the way to the Inn; you would never find it alone!" ”

“ As Isabelle closed the old-fashioned shutters before dressing for dinner, she saw her husband coming up the steps, walking with his slow, powerful stride, his head erect,—the competent, high-minded, generous man, a rock of stable strength, as she had always believed him, even when she loved him least! There must be something wrong with the universe when this man, the best type of hard, intelligent labor, should have become a public robber! ... Renault's solemn words repeated themselves, "The curse of our age, of our country, is its frantic egotism." ”

“ Occasionally Fosdick joined their excursions, and after one of them he said to Vickers:—
"My friend, she is wonderful; more so every time I see her. But beneath that soft, rounded body, with its smooth white skin, is something hard. Oh, I know the eyes and the hair and the throat and the voice! I, too, am a man. Paint her, if you like, or set her to music. She is for bel canto and moonlight and the voice of Rome. But there is a world outside this all, my friend, to which you and I belong, and you rather more than I.... Stacia Conry doesn't belong at all." ”

“ Sol Short announced at dinner, a dreamy look in his eyes, like the soft sky outside, the look of unconscious gladness that rises in man at the thought of the coming year, the great revival of life.... That afternoon Margaret and Isabelle drove over the snowy upland, where the deep drifts in the fields had shrivelled perceptibly, sucked by the warm sun above and the opening earth beneath. The runners of the sleigh cut into the trodden snow, and in the sheltered levels of the road the horse's feet plashed in slush. ”

“ He was the kind of man she had rarely seen and never known: by birth a gentleman, by education and ambition a writer, with a distinct social sense and the charm of an artist. In spite of his poverty he had found the means to run about the world—the habited part of it—a good deal, and had always managed to meet the right people,—the ones "whose names mean something." He was of the parasite species, but of the higher types. To Isabelle his rapid talk, about plays, people, pictures, the opera, books, was a revelation of some of that flowing, stream of life which she felt she was missing. ”

“ If they triumph in this primitive struggle for existence, they have won a few acres of cleared land for the harvest, a habitation, and food, and children who will take up from their hands the warfare for life, to win further concessions from Nature, a wider circle of order from chaos. This is the marriage type of the pioneer,—a primitive, body-wracking struggle of two against all, a perfect type, elemental but whole,—and this remains the large pattern of marriage to-day wherever sound. Two bodies, two souls are united for the life struggle to wring order out of chaos,—physical and spiritual. ”

“ The governess was a modern luxury, provided to ease the conscience of lazy or incompetent mothers, who had "too much to do" to be with their children. Isabelle knew all the arguments in their favor. She remembered Bessie Falkner's glib defence of the governess method, when she had wanted to stretch Rob's income another notch for this convenience,—"If a mother is always with her children, she can't give her best self either to them or to her husband!" Isabelle had lived enough since then to realize that this vague "best self" of mothers was rarely given to anything but distraction. ”

“ Margaret's lips curved dangerously, and the Bishop, as if answering this sign, continued:—
"Lawrence does not show great power, I know, my dear. But he is a good man,—a faithful husband and a kind father. That is much, Margaret. It rests with you to make him more!"
'Does it?' Margaret was asking herself behind her blank countenance. 'One cannot make bricks without straw.... What is that sort of goodness worth in a man? I had rather my husband were what you call a bad man—and a Man.' But she said nothing. ”

“ For life is stronger than a single soul! ...
To the west and north there were islands, long stretches of sea opening between their green shores, far up into the coast land. The wind freshened and died, until at last in the twilight with scarcely a ripple the Swallow floated into a sheltered cove on the outermost of all the islands. A forest of stiff little spruces covered the sea point, and behind this was a smooth green field, and above on the crest of the island a small white farm-house.
"A man named Viney used to live there," Falkner said, breaking a long silence. ”

“ Regret is the most useless of human states of mind.... The railroad operatives were busy with lanterns about the train, tapping wheels, filling the ice-boxes and gas-tanks, and switching cars. She could see the faces of the men as they passed her section in the light of their lanterns. With deliberate, unconscious motions they performed their tasks. Like the face of that lad on the engine at White River, these were the faces of ordinary men, privates of the industrial world, and yet each had something about it distinctive, of its own. ”

“ To him the squat car ferries, the lighters, the dirty tramp steamers, the railroad yards across the river, as well as the lofty buildings of the long city—all the teeming life here at the mouth of the country—meant Traffic, the intercourse of men. And he, too, loved the great roaring city. He looked at it with a vista that reached from the Iowa town where he had first "railroaded it," up through the intervening steps at St. Louis and Torso, to his niche in the largest of these buildings,—all the busy years which he had spent dealing with men. ”

“ The Georgian facade of the new house faced the broad meadow through which the wedding party had wandered back to the Farm the day of Isabelle's marriage. Below the brick terrace, elaborate gardens, suggesting remotely Italy, had been laid out on the slope of the New England hill. The thin poplars, struggling to maintain themselves in the bitter blasts of an American winter, gave an unreal air to the place as much as anything. The village of Grafton, which had once been visible as a homely white-dotted road beyond the meadow, had been "planted out." ”

“ And along the same roads across the reaches of prairie, over the swelling hills, stalk towering poles, bearing many fine wires glistening in the sunlight and singing the importance of Torso to the world at large.
The Lanes arrived at night, and to Isabelle the prairie heavens seemed dark and far away, the long broad streets with their bushy maple trees empty, and the air filled with hoarse plaints, the rumbling speech of the railroad. She was homesick and fearful, as they mounted the steps to the new house and pushed open the shining oak door that stuck and smelled of varnish. ”

“ There was scarcely a footprint in the road to break the soft mass of new-fallen snow. Isabelle could see a black cat deliberately stealing its way from the barn across the road to the house. It lifted each paw with delicate precision and pushed it firmly into the snow, casting a deep shadow on the gleaming surface of white. The black cat, lean and muscular, stretching itself across the snow, was the touch of art needed to complete the silent scene....
A wood-sled drawn by two heavy horses came around the corner of the house, softly churning the new snow before its runners. ”

“ There came to us the great War,—the conflict of ideals. Now Man leaves behind in the home the Woman and her children, and goes forth alone to fight for the unseen,—the Idea that is in him, that is stronger than woman or child, greater than life itself. Giving over the selfish struggle with the Brute, he battles against articulate voices. And the Woman is left to keep warm the forsaken nest, to nurse the brood there, to wait and want, perchance to follow after her man to the battle-field and pick out her dead and bear it back to burial. ”

“ The men had been amazed by the fertility, the force of the country. "Traffic, traffic," Lane had murmured enthusiastically, divining with his trained eye the enormous possibilities of the land, the future for the iron highroad he was pushing through it. Traffic,—in other words, growth, business, human effort and human life,—that is the cosmic song that sings itself along the iron road.
Margaret had said mockingly:—
"Wouldn't it do our New York friends a world of good to get out here once a year and realize that life goes on, and very real life, outside the narrow shores of Manhattan!" ”

“ Perfect justice, a complete picture of society in a civilization of eighty millions, requires many shades. The darker shades are true only of the rotting refuse, the scum of the whole. Among the married millions most are, fortunately, still struggling through the earlier types from the pioneer to the economist. But as the water runs there lies the sea beyond. From the prairie village to the city tenement, the American woman sees in marriage the fulfilment of her heart's desire,—to be Queen, to rule and not work. ”

“ Isabelle had it on her tongue to demand: "But how do you feel about it,—the real matter at issue? What is right—just?" Again she refrained, afraid to array herself apparently on the side of his enemies.
"It is all this infernal agitation, which does nobody any good and will result in crippling business," he repeated, as they went to the library for their coffee.
This room, where the Colonel usually sat evenings with his wife and the neighbors who dropped in, was exactly as it had been in the old days,—even the same row of novels and books of travel in a rack on the polished table. ”