King Copethua's Wife, Chapters XIII-XIV [pp. 292-299]

King Cophetua's WVife.
you meant to come down from the pedestal
of solitude, and mingle more with men and
women who are outside the narrow circle
you so delight to move in. I tell you, Eldridg,e, it makes a man selfish and unnatural if he devotes himself entirely to an art or
profession and lets the world go by. unless
it can serve his purpose to let himself drop
into its midst and struggle for a while with
its worry or pleasure. You have lived alone
too long. You scan everybody through a
microscope, and finding that no one is absolutely faultless, you draw back again into
your groove, and move around its confined
limit without thinking that you are doing a
harm to the broader part of your nature-a
part you have no right to keep concealed.
"You are misunderstood and misjudged
while you show only your coldness to the
world. I tell you, man, that this selfishness
-I do not intend to imply that you are not
liberal: yes, liberal to a fault in some ways
-this selfishness is creeping into the work
of your pen. One who knows you can find
it pernmeating your writings, and for that
reason, if for no other, you should drop
work for the present and find pleasure in
going about: not only in looking at the
outer movements of life in these cities, but
in pushing yourself into the very heart of
humanity.
' Throw your cigar away: it has been unlighted these ten minutes; take a fresh one,
and think over what I have said to you. I
went to you, my friend, when I had no one
else that I dared to, or felt that I could,
trust, and in return for your generous goodness then I want to help you now. Perhaps you think that I have presumed too
much upon the friendship you fully extended
to me at that time, but it will be best for
me to tell you, Frank"- he came to a chair
nearer mine, took my hand in his, and
leaned over to look into my face-"to tell
you that the struggle you are undergoing is
not so much of a secret as you believe it to
be. I have read it in your face, in your
moods, and in your poetry. You are in
love-or fancy yourself in love-with Madge
Barras."
"How-how dare you?" and I started
from my seat only to fall back again among
the cushions and bury my face in my hands.
"How dare I? I will tell you how and
why I dare. When you gave me your friendship I took it as a gift of rare value, knowing you to be one who does not lightly open
his heart to let a new-comer in. And, because I rated this at its true worth, I determined to be as faithful, as helpful to you
as I could, for I knew then that the time
must come when you would need to be told
something like what I have just told you.
You thought that your great heart could
hold its secret, that you could hug the anguish to yourself and bear it alone. But,
my friend, it has eaten its way out, and
being within my reach, I dare to lay hold
upon it and ease you of the bitterness as
much as I can. Harry Ascot —even to him
you would not speak of this has gone from
you for the to-day of this life, and I mean to
do for you what he would do, were he here
and strong to understand you as I think I
am. With the knowledge that a man of
experience-a so-called man of the worldhas, I have watched and studied you, and I
shall share this burden of yours with you.
It has its shame, I know. You, with the
delicate sensitiveness of your kind, feel this
love for your friend's wife to be a sin from
which you can never be cleansed, and so
you let it burn within your heart when, if
you will, you may rise above and look down
upon it.
"Tell me that you are glad I know the
truth, that it will be less hard for you now to
struggle against yourself and to conquer,
because there is one who knows of your passion, and will strive with you to uproot the
dream and throw it aside."
I had regained my calmness, but there
was a certain horror in feeling that any one
had so cleverly read what I thought was
hidden out of sight. I, who had presumed
to teach others their duty to God and man,
stood at last stripped of all pretense, my error laid bare at least to this one man's gaze.
Alas! I could not tell how many others had
looked into my heart. But Adam Jaquith
4
[Sept.
294