Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1922-09-07
CHAPTER Ix-contlnued.

hood, and her voice began to culver.
You can see things so much more
clearly when you stand off at dis
tance like this, you know, than you
can when you are close to them!
She broke down and cried when she
spoke Of the divorce, and of the influ-
ence 1t had upon me, and Of the false
Idea of marriage 1t gave me. She said
1t was the worst kind of thing for me-
the sort of life / had to live. She said
grew pert and precocious and worldly
wise, and full of servants talk and
Ideas. She even spoke Of that night
at the little cafe table when I gloried
In the sparkle and spangles and told
her that now we were seeing life-real
life. And Of how shocked she was,
and of how she saw then what this
thing was doing to me. But 1t was too
late.
She told more. mach more, about the
later years, and the reconciliation /;
then, some way, she brought things
around to Jerry and me. Her face
hushed up then, and she didn't meet
my eyes. She looked down at her sew
ang. She was very busy turning hem
just so.
She said there had been a time,
once, when she had worried little
about Jerry and me, for fear we would
separate. She said that she believed
that, for her, that would have been the
very blacklist moment Of her life; for
1t would be her fault, all her fault.
/ tried to break in here, and say,
mo, no." and that it wasn't her fault !;
but she shook her head and wouldn't
Aisten, and she lifted her hand, and j
had to keep still and let her go on talk
ing. She was looking straight into my
eyes then, and there was such deep,
deep hurt in them that / just had to
histen.
!, She said again that it would be her
eault; that if / had done that she
would have known that it was all be-
eause of the example she herself had
pet me Of childish willfulness and self
lsh seeking of personal happiness at
the expense of everything and every
body else. And she said that that
would have been the last straw to
break her heart.
But she declared that she was sure
now that she need not worry. Such
thing would never be.
/ guess gasped little at this. Any
how, I know I tried to break in and
keli her that we were going to sepa-
Ro+o ord fbot thot rryoc avo ctly what
had come into the room in the first
place to say.
But again she kept right on talking,
hnd / was silenced before / had even
begun.
She said how she knew it could
never be-on account of Eunice. That
q would never subject my little girl to
the sort of wretchedly divided life that
q had to live when 1 was child.
| CAS- she spoke / was suddenly back
In the cobwebby attic with little Mary's
hilary, and / thought-what If 1t were
Eunice writing that!)
She said was the most devoted
mother she had ever known; that
WAS too devoted, she feared sometimes,
kor / made Eunice all my world, to the
Exclusion of Jerry and everything and
Everybody else. But that she was very
sure, because I was so devoted, and
loved Eunice so dearly, that would
never deprive her of a fathers love
and care.
shivered a little, and looked quick
" into Mothers face. But she was not
Looking at me. was thinking Of how
Kerry had kissed and kissed Eunice a
month ago, when we came Away, as If
he just couldn't let her go. Jerry is
fond of Eunice, now that she's old
enough to know something. and Eunice
hdores her father. / knew that part
was going to be hard. And now to
have Mother put 1t like that
began to talk then of Jerry. 1 just
felt that I'd got to say something. That
Mother must listen. That she didn't
understand. / told her how Jerry
loved lights and music and dancing,
Ind crowds bowling down and Worship
Ing him all the time. And she said yes,
Bhe remembered; that he'd been that
way when / married him.
She spoke 80 sort Of queerly that
egain I glanced at her; but she still
twas looking down at the hem she was
turning.
went on then to explain that !
didn't like such things: that I be-
tieved that there were deeper and
higher things, and things more worth
while. And she said yes, she was glad,
and that that was going to be my saw
ing grace; for, Of course, I realized
that there couldn't be anything deeper
pr higher or more worth while than
keeping the home together, and put
ting up with annoyances, for the ulti-
mate good Of all, especially Of Eunice.
She went right on then quickly, be-
fore could say anything. She said
that, Of course, / understood that ]
was still Mary and Marie even II Jerry
did call me Mollfe; and II Marie had
married q man that wasn't always con