H. Wells - THE NEW MACHIAVELLI

been away six year's."

We went arm in arm into our little sitting-room, and I took off the

fur's for her and sat down upon the chintz-covered sofa by the fire.

She had ordered tea, and came and sat by me. I don't knowwhat I

had expected, but of all things I had certainly not expected this

sudden abolition of our distances.

"I want to knowall about America," she repeated, with her eyes

scrutinising me. "Why did you come back?"

I repeated the substance of my letters rather lamely, and she sat

listening.

"But why did you turn back-without going to Denver?"

"I wanted to come back. I was restless."

"Restlessness," she said, and thought. "You were restless in

Venice. You said it was restlessness took you to America."

Again she studied me. She turned a little awkwardly to her tea

things, and poured needless water from the silver kettle into the

teapot. Then she sat still for some moments looking at the equipage

with expressionless eyes. I sawher hand upon the edge of the table

tremble slightly. I watched her closely. A vague uneasiness

possessed me. What might she not knowor guess?

She spoke at last with an effort. "I wish you were in Parliament

again," she said. "Life doesn't give you events enough."

"If I was in Parliament again, I should be on the Conservative

side."

"I know," she said, and was still more thoughtful.

"Lately," she began, and paused. "Lately I've been reading-you."

I didn't helpher out with what she had to say. I waited.

"I didn't understandwhat you were after. I had misjudged. I

didn't know. I thinkperhaps I was rather stupid." Her eyes were

suddenly shining with tears. "You didn't give me much chance to

understand."

She turned upon me suddenly with a voice full of tears.

"Husband," she said abruptly, holding her two hands out to me, "I

want to begin over again!"

I took her hands, perplexed beyond measure. "My dear!" I said.

"I want to begin over again."

I bowed my head to hide my face, and found her hand in mine and

kissed it.

"Ah!" she said, and slowly withdrew her hand. She leant forward

with her arm on the sofa-back, and looked very intently into my

face. I feltthe most damnable scoundrel in the world as I returned

her gaze. The thoughtof Isabel's darkly shining eyes seemed like a

physical presence between us…

"Tell me," I said presently, to break the intolerable tension, "tell

me plainly what you mean by this."

I sat a little away from her, and then took my teacup in hand, with

an odd effectof defending myself. "Have you been reading that old

book of mine?" I asked.

"That and the paper. I took a complete set from the beginning down

to Durham with me. I have read it over, thoughtit over. I didn't

understand-what you were teaching."

There was a little pause.

"It all seems so plain to me now," she said, "and so true."

I was profoundly disconcerted. I put down my teacup, stood up in

the middle of the hearthrug, and began talking. " I'mtremendously

glad, Margaret, that you've come to see I'mnot altogether

perverse," I began. I launched out into a rather trite and windy

exposition of my views, and she sat close to me on the sofa, looking

up into my face, hanging on my words, a deliberate and invincible

convert.

"Yes," she said, "yes."…

I had never doubtedmy new conceptions before; now I doubtedthem

profoundly. But I went on talking. It's the grim irony in the

lives of all politicians, writers, public teachers, that once the

audience is at their feet, a new loyalty has gripped them. It isn't

their business to admit doubtand imperfections. They have to go on

talking. And I was now so accustomed to Isabel's vivid interruptions,

qualifications, restatements, and confirmations…

Margaret and I dined together at home. She made me open out my

political projects to her. "I have been foolish," she said. "I

want to help."

And by some excuse I have forgotten she made me come to her room. I

thinkit was some book I had to take her, some American book I had

brought back with me, and mentioned in our talk. I walked in with

it, and put it down on the table and turned to go.

"Husband!" she cried, and held out her slender arms to me. I was

compelled to go to her and kiss her, and she twined them softly

about my neck and drew me to her and kissed me. I disentangled them

very gently, and took each wrist and kissed it, and the backs of her

hands.

"Good-night," I said. There came a little pause. "Good-night,

Margaret," I repeated, and walked very deliberately and with a kind

of sham preoccupation to the door.

I did not look at her, but I could feelher standing, watching me.

If I had looked up, she would, I knew, have held out her arms to

me…

At the very outset that secret, which was to touchno one but Isabel

and myself, had reached out to stab another human being.

The whole world had changed for Isabel and me; and we tried to

pretend that nothing had changed except a small matter between us.

We believed quite honestly at that time that it was possible to keep

this thing that had happened from any reaction at all, save perhaps

through some magically enhanced vigour in our work, upon the world

about us! Seenin retrospect, one can realise the absurdity of this

belief; within a week I realised it; but that does not alter the

fact that we did believe as much, and that people who are deeply in

love and unable to marry will continueto believe so to the very end

of time. They will continueto believe out of existenceevery

consideration that separates them until they have come together.

Then they will count the cost, as we two had to do.

I amtelling a story, and not propounding theories in this book; and

chiefly I amtelling of the ideas and influencesand emotionsthat

have happened to me-me as a sort of sounding board for my world.

The moralist is at liberty to go over my conduct with his measure

and say, "At this point or at that you went wrong, and you ought to

have done"-so-and-so. The point of interest to the statesman is

that it didn't for a moment occur to us to do so-and-so when the

time for doing it came. It amazes me now to thinkhow little either

of us troubled about the established rights or wrongs of the

situation. We hadn't an atom of respect for them, innate or

acquired. The guardians of public morals will say we were very bad

people; I submit in defence that they are very bad guardians-

provocative guardians… And when at last there came a claim

against us that had an effectivevalidity for us, we were in the

full tide of passionate intimacy.

I had a night of nearly sleepless perplexity after Margaret's

return. She had suddenly presented herselfto me like something

dramatically recalled, fine, generous, infinitely capable of

feeling. I was amazed how much I had forgotten her. In my contempt

for vulgarised and conventionalised honour I had forgotten that for

me there was such a realityas honour. And here it was, warm and

near to me, living, breathing, unsuspecting. Margaret's pride was

my honour, that I had had no right even to imperil.

I do not now rememberif I thoughtat that time of going to Isabel

and putting this new aspect of the case before her. Perhaps I did.

Perhaps I may have considered even then the possibility of ending

what had so freshly and passionately begun. If I did, it vanished