"You think so. Well, to-night I can see myself for the first time," said
Rantoul. Then he added meditatively, "I have done not one single thing I
wanted to."
"But why--why?"
"You have brought it all back to me," said Rantoul, ignoring this
question. "It hurts. I suppose to-morrow I shall resent it, but to-night
I feel too deeply. There is nothing free about us in this world, Britt.
I profoundly believe that. Everything we do from morning to night is
dictated by the direction of those about us. An enemy, some one in the
open, we can combat and resist; but it is those that are nearest to us
who disarm us because they love us, that change us most, that thwart our
desires, and make over our lives. Nothing in this world is so
inexorable, so terribly, terribly irresistible as a woman without
strength, without logic, without vision, who only loves."
"He is going to say things he will regret," thought Herkimer, and yet
he did not object. Instead, he glanced down the dimly flushed path to
the house where Mrs. Rantoul was sitting, her embroidery on her lap, her
head raised as though listening.
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