Part Two - FIVE

by Willa Cather

　　Soon afterward, when Captain Forrester had another stroke, Mrs.Beasley and Molly Tucker and their friends were perfectly agreedthat it was a judgment upon his wife. No judgment could have beencrueller. Under the care of him, now that he was helpless, Mrs.Forrester quite went to pieces.

　　Even after their misfortunes had begun to come upon them, she hadmaintained her old reserve. She had asked nothing and acceptednothing. Her demeanour toward the townspeople was always the same;easy, cordial, and impersonal. Her own friends had moved away longago,--all except Judge Pommeroy and Dr. Dennison. When any of thehousewives from the town came to call, she met them in the parlour,chatted with them in the smiling, careless manner they could neverbreak through, and they got no further. They still felt they mustput on their best dress and carry a card-case when they went to theForresters'.

　　But now that the Captain was helpless, everything changed. Shecould hold off the curious no longer. The townswomen brought soupsand custards for the invalid. When they came to sit out the nightwith him, she turned the house over to them. She was worn out; soexhausted that she was dull to what went on about her. The Mrs.Beasleys and Molly Tuckers had their chance at last. They went inand out of Mrs. Forrester's kitchen as familiarly as they did outof one another's. They rummaged through the linen closet to findmore sheets, pried about in the attic and cellar. They went overthe house like ants, the house where they had never before got pastthe parlour; and they found they had been fooled all these years.There was nothing remarkable about the place at all! The kitchenwas inconvenient, the sink was smelly. The carpets were worn, thecurtains faded, the clumsy, old-fashioned furniture they wouldn'thave had for a gift, and the upstairs bed-rooms were full of dustand cobwebs.

　　Judge Pommeroy remarked to his nephew that he had never seen thesewomen look so wide-awake, so important and pleased with themselves,as now when he encountered them bustling about the Forrester place.The Captain's illness had the effect of a social revival, like anew club or a church society. The creatures grew bolder andbolder,--and Mrs. Forrester, apparently, had no power of resistance.She drudged in the kitchen, slept, half-dressed, in one of thechambers upstairs, kept herself going on black coffee and brandy.All the bars were down. She had ceased to care about anything.

　　As the women came and went through the lane, Niel sometimesoverheard snatches of their conversation.

　　"Why didn't she sell some of that silver? All those platters andcovered dishes stuck away with the tarnish of years on them!"

　　"I wouldn't mind having some of her linen. There's a chest full ofdouble damask upstairs, every tablecloth long enough to make two.Did you ever see anything like the wine glasses! I'll bet there'snot as many in both saloons put together. If she has a sale afterhe's gone, I'll buy a dozen champagne glasses; they're nice toserve sherbet in."

　　"There are nine dozen glasses," said Molly Tucker, "counting themfor beer and whiskey. If there is a sale, I've a mind to bid in acouple of them green ones, with long stems, for mantel ornaments.But she'll never sell 'em all, unless she can get the saloons totake 'em."

　　Ed Elliott's mother laughed. "She'll never sell 'em, as long asshe's got anything to put in 'em."

　　"The cellar will go dry, some day."

　　"I guess there's always plenty that will get it for such as her. Inever go there now that I don't smell it on her. I went over latethe other night, and she was on her knees, washing up the kitchenfloor. Her eyes were glassy. She kept washing the place aroundthe ice-box over and over, till it made me nervous. I said, 'Mrs.Forrester, I think you've washed that place several timesalready.'"

　　"Was she confused?"

　　"Not a particle! She laughed and said she was often absent-minded."

　　Mrs. Elliott's companions laughed, too, and agreed that absent-minded was a good expression.

　　Niel repeated this conversation to his uncle. "Uncle," hedeclared, "I don't see how I can go back to Boston and leave theForresters. I'd like to chuck school for a year, and see themthrough. I want to go over there and clear those gossips out.Could you stay at the hotel for a few weeks, and let me have BlackTom? With him to help me, I'd send every one of those womentrotting down the lane."

　　It was arranged quietly, and at once. Tom was put in the kitchen,and Niel himself took charge of the nursing. He met the women withfirmness: they were very kind, but now nothing was needed. TheDoctor had said the house must be absolutely quiet and that theinvalid must see no one.

　　Once the house was tranquil, Mrs. Forrester went to bed and sleptfor the better part of a week. The Captain himself improved. Onhis good days he could be put into a wheel-chair and rolled outinto his garden to enjoy the September sunlight and the last of hisbriar roses.

　　"Thank you, Niel, thank you, Tom," he often said when they liftedhim into his chair. "I value this quiet very highly." If a daycame when they thought he ought not to go out, he was sad anddisappointed.

　　"Better get him out, no matter what," said Mrs. Forrester. "Helikes to look at his place. That, and his cigar, are the onlypleasures he has left."

　　When she was rested and in command of herself again, she took herplace in the kitchen, and Black Tom went back to the Judge.

　　At night, when he was alone, when Mrs. Forrester had gone to bedand the Captain was resting quietly, Niel found a kind of solemnhappiness in his vigils. It had been hard to give up that year;most of his classmates were younger than he. It had cost himsomething, but now that he had taken the step, he was glad. As heput in the night hours, sitting first in one chair and then inanother, reading, smoking, getting a lunch to keep himself awake,he had the satisfaction of those who keep faith. He liked beingalone with the old things that had seemed so beautiful to him inhis childhood. These were still the most comfortable chairs in theworld, and he would never like any pictures so well as "WilliamTell's Chapel" and "The House of the Tragic Poet." No card-tablewas so good for solitaire as this old one with a stone top, mosaicin the pattern of a chess-board, which one of the Captain's friendshad brought him from Naples. No other house could take the placeof this one in his life.

　　He had time to think of many things; of himself and of his oldfriends here. He had noticed that often when Mrs. Forrester wasabout her work, the Captain would call to her, "Maidy, Maidy," andshe would reply, "Yes, Mr. Forrester," from wherever she happenedto be, but without coming to him,--as if she knew that when hecalled to her in that tone he was not asking for anything. Hewanted to know if she were near, perhaps; or, perhaps, he merelyliked to call her name and to hear her answer. The longer Niel waswith Captain Forrester in those peaceful closing days of his life,the more he felt that the Captain knew his wife better even thanshe knew herself; and that, knowing her, he,--to use one of his ownexpressions,--valued her.