Читать книгу There are Victories - Charles Yale Harrison - Страница 17

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At first her mother’s attitude was incomprehensible to Ruth. The degrading blow, the intolerance, the lack of motherly sympathy; these rankled for a long time. But as weeks went by and as Summer came and went, the memory of the painful scene became more and more clouded. And now that it was Autumn she recalled only on the rarest occasions the stinging pain and chilling humiliation which her mother had inflicted upon her. And when, at times, Mrs. Throop’s white, angry face stood before her eyes, she forgave her; forgave with that full, impulsive forgiveness which is youth’s. She did not realize it then, but she had learned wisdom through pain and suffering and when the ache and turmoil of the soul had passed she thought more calmly of the matter. All too soon she realized that this new world in which she was now living had no place for the over-sensitive, that girls were expected to resist improper advances, as they were prudently called, with tact and grace—with a nonchalant settling of the skirts, so to speak; the flight from the poacher should be studied and collected, not emotional and dramatic. Fright bordering on hysteria, such as hers had been, was uncalled for; it was bad breeding, unsettling, anti-social—particularly if the offender was one around whom a whole family rotated. Such an attitude was dangerous, it muddied the clear waters. And as she grew older Ruth came to understand, if not to condone, this passionate impulse on her mother’s part to maintain family serenity at all costs. For to Mrs. Throop her brother was the symbol of family security. In Francis Steele lay all the qualities which were revered by the Throops and their class. He was the figurehead of the social system in which the family found its warm and comfortable niche, he was the shield against which the blows of outsiders beat in vain. He was the totem which insured the happiness and security of the tribes Steele, Courtney, and Throop. He was Church, industry, commerce, flag, and morality. To have allowed his name to be smirched—the question of justice did not enter here—would have been tantamount to sacrilege, treason, indecency. It was not that her mother pardoned her brother’s act, on the contrary; but there were consequences beyond the obvious ones and there were circumstances in life which were best ignored. The bitter words and the angry charge of inherent lust and sinfulness which Mrs. Throop had hurled at Ruth were not rational or fully considered. They were the things which are sometimes said when there is a gnawing fear that perhaps the dreaded truth will be uttered or that the rock on which one’s life rests will suddenly be blown to atoms. These were the things which Ruth came to know in a dim way. She did not grant that her mother was right, she merely accepted the facts and marveled that things could be so.

Fortunately her duties were many and engrossing. She was now in her last term at high school; there were social responsibilities and in her music she found solace and forgetfulness. And with the passing of time, although the wound had outwardly healed, its evil effects remained unseen to blossom forth at a time when she had nearly forgotten the dreadful pain and humiliation of that frightful afternoon and evening.