The night's experience furnished William with still another problem to
study, all the more perplexing because of the fact that Clarissa had
come to him without his having concentrated upon her doing so, and
apparently of her own will, while she had shrunk away, cold and
unresponsive when he had tried to bring her. What was the power that had
brought her to him? It must have been strong, although she had no
remembrance of coming, nor of meeting Dinah.
Long after she was asleep, he weighed cause after cause; there was no
disputing the fact he was becoming nervous, and, when her regular and
low breathing proclaimed beyond all doubt she was sleeping sweetly and
soundly, he would not move, nor leave her, fearing she might again rise
and walk about in her sleep.
If she had come to him at almost any other time, he would not have been
surprised, as she was so constantly in his mind; then he would have
thought his silent suggestions, finding her negative, had drawn her to
him, by the same law that a hypnotist draws a subject, but just at this
particular time he had been very deeply engrossed in other thoughts.
According to his ideas, there was only one way to account for it; that
was to ascribe it to her physical condition, making her negative and
sensitive; possibly producing a state of somnambulance, and that he was
in her mind in her dreaming, she had been guided to him by that
strangely inexplicable, but none the less true instinct that guides all
somnambulists if left unrestricted in their movements. This nervous
state might last throughout the entire period of her pregnancy. At
another time she might be drawn to Augustus, or any other person or
place.
Persons have been known to drown themselves in such a state, so he would
watch her. He knew somnambulance sprang from nervous excitement, and in
her condition, there was no telling what phases might develop.
This had been a harmless and pleasing incident, but there was nothing to
guarantee its repetition would be the same. It was not only his right,
but his duty to watch over her while she was in this negative condition,
for if harm should come to her, he could never forgive himself.
There was danger when she would seek him in an apartment he was
unaccustomed to be in,--especially at that time of night. Her very
accuracy was, perhaps, the most alarming feature. Women in her condition
are apt to exhibit very peculiar traits, and these usually entirely
foreign to their natural instincts. He would, therefore, watch her very
closely during the interval, doing what he could to help her, but he
must be careful she did not discover his surveillance.
How little he realized what an advancement he was making in true love!
Once he would have wanted her to know of every sacrifice he made, and
had she not desired his constant presence, he would have become
jealous,--perhaps furiously so--and felt she had no love for him. He had
learned much. He had learned love means more than attention even more
than endearing words and close embraces. These could all be supplied by
subterfuge, even while love was totally absent. Real love may exist
without these outward demonstrations.
He understood all this as he was compelled to hide his own affections
more and more, and as he witnessed Augustus' suffering upon being
banished from his mother's presence. He had been educated to believe
himself the one object of interest in the home, and it came harder to
him, therefore, than it did to William, to relinquish her constant
solicitude.
Altogether, it was a dreary season for them, full of heartaches, but to
William, even this, compared to the time when he was alone in his
beautiful home, was a veritable paradise, for now he had Augustus and
his love and Clarissa's presence. Humble indeed were his present
requirements as compared to his past exactions, and this state of
humbleness proved his great growth in wisdom, for ignorance is always
aggressive and egotistic, encroaching largely upon both possibilities
and the actual, while real wisdom, like charity, "vaunteth not itself."
For some unknown reason, William felt he wanted to talk with Alice when
she was entranced. Until Clarissa came to him, he had turned to Merle in
all seasons of doubt and perplexity, but now, he felt Alice could best
furnish him the information he desired. Augustus clung to his father's
companionship a large portion of the time, even in the matter of
education the family felt that they could best supply him with
knowledge, for they were even more sensitive about his infirmity than
himself.
They were unwilling he should mingle with boys about his own age, taking
especial care in cultivating his taste for music and art, which was far
beyond the ken of children of his age. William felt he must also devote
more of his time to him, so, on the day following asked him if he would
like to go with Merle for a long ride that would occupy some time,
calling for him upon the way back, when they would all go to the
theatre, where Augustus loved so well to go.
When his mother had swayed and thrilled such vast audiences by the magic
of her beautiful voice, she had rarely allowed him to be present; she
loved to think she was singing for him, and he was the one object in her
mind, but she felt she could do better when he was not actually present.
This very fact probably made Augustus all the more fond of public
performances, for he always thought "my mother can do better than that."
He was very proud of her reputation as a singer while his father was
extremely sensitive about it. William would have been loth to admit it
to anyone, but, growing to believe he had no other rival in Clarissa's
affection save this boy, he transmitted his hatred of supposed rivals to
her public achievements, and could not endure the thought of them.
What gave Augustus joy in this respect, gave him jealousy. He did not
like to think of her as singing to multitude, the object of their
unstinted admiration, therefore her reputation as a peerless musician
and singer brought him no whit of pleasure.
Few of her hearers could appreciate her singing as he, for he was a fine
musician himself, still he could not endure the thought of her singing
for public approval or money. Music, to him, was a sacred gift, and
although he gloried in her abilities, he deplored the attention it
brought to her publicly. Of all things, the knowledge she was working
for financial reasons was the most exasperating, and he was particularly
and peculiarly sensitive upon this point, not liking to hear her spoken
of as a public entertainer, while that was very pleasing to Augustus.
Whenever he attended a public performance, he invariably said that it
was good, but mamma could do better, deriving much pleasure from the
thought, though the mere mention of Clarissa's achievements and attempts
to win public favor was torture to his father.
Just now, however, William desired to see Augustus happy, so he planned
for every condition he felt would add to his pleasure, and while he and
Merle were riding, he would talk with Alice, thus both father and son
would be occupied and partially happy.