Chapter 5 Section 4

David is reading the letter.He crumpled it up and tossed it aside, then took it again, flattened it again, and read. His wife Hilda watched him quietly and said nothing.She noticed the twitching muscles on his temples, the slight trembling of his slender, soft hands, and the movements of his whole body were accompanied by tense spasms.She was ready when he brushed back a strand of blond hair that always hung over his forehead and looked at her with blue eyes begging for help." "Hilda, what should we do?" Hilda hesitated before speaking.She heard the sincerity in his voice.She knew how dependent he was on her - had been since the marriage - and knew that she might influence his final decision.It was for this reason that she was very careful not to say anything too absolute.

She spoke, with the calming, comforting power of a seasoned kindergarten aunt in her voice. "That depends on what you think, David." Hilda, a large woman, is not beautiful, but there is something attractive about it.Something about her is like a landscape painting, and that tranquility is eternal.The warmth and love in her voice, her strength—the deep vitality that can infect the weak.A pudgy middle-aged woman who is a little too strong - not bright - not brilliant - but there is something you can't ignore.Strength, Hilda Lee had a strength, and David rose to his feet and began pacing the room.His hair was not white at all, and had a strange boyish cypress.His face was as soft as a Burne-Jones knight.That said, something is not quite true...

His tone was melancholy: "You know what I think, Hilda, you must." "I'm not sure." "But I told you—I told you time and time again. How I hated them—that house and all about it and everything, it just brought back painful memories. I hated I Every moment spent there! When I think about it - all that she has suffered - my mother..." His wife nodded sympathetically. "She's so lovely, Hilda, and so patient. Lying there, often in pain, but bearing it - bearing it all. When I think of my father," his face fell, " A life of misfortune to her—shaming her—showing off his adventures—often cheating on her but never bothering to hide it.”

Hilda Lee said, "She shouldn't have swallowed like this, she should have left him." There was a tinge of reproach in his tone: "She's too kind to do that. She thinks it's her duty to stay. Besides, this is her home—where else could she go?" "She can make a living by herself." Davy said irritably: "It was impossible at that time! You don't understand. Women don't do that. They tolerate everything, they just suffer. She has to think about us. Even if she divorced my father , so what? He will probably remarry and have a new family. Our interests will be thrown aside. She will have to consider all the stakes."

Hilda didn't answer. David went on: "No, she did right. She was a virtuous person. She endured to the death—without complaining." Hilda said, "Not at all complaining, or you wouldn't know so much, David!" He spoke softly, his face brightening: "Yes—she told me—she knew how much I loved her. When she died—" He paused, running his hands through his hair. "Hilda, that was awful! That desolate sight! She was really young then, she didn't deserve to die. He killed her—my father, he was responsible for her death. He was terribly hurt Her heart. I've since decided not to live under his roof. I've run away—far away from it all."

Hilda nodded. "You're wise," she said, "to do it." David said: "Father wanted me to join his business and that would mean living at home, which I couldn't stand. I don't understand how Alfred could put up with it - how he got through all these years of." "Has he never resisted?" Hilda asked with interest. "I remember you telling me something about his abandonment of other careers." David nodded. "Alfred would have joined the army. Father had it all arranged. Alfred, the eldest, went into the cavalry, Harry joined his affairs, and so did I. George went into politics."

"But things didn't go that way?" David shook his head. "Harry messed everything up! He was always very wild. Got into debt - got into all sorts of trouble. Finally one day he took hundreds of pounds that didn't belong to him and settled for it, and stayed A note saying he's not fit to sit on the bench in the office, he's going out into the world." "Have you never heard from him again?" "Oh no, we do." David laughed. "We hear from him all the time! He's always sending wires from all over the world asking for money and always getting it!"

"And Alfred?" "Father asked him to come back from the army and join his business." "Does he mind?" "At first it was very mindful, he hated the job. But Dad always had Alfred in his hands. I believe he is still completely in his hands." "And you - escaped!" said Hilda. "Yes, I went to London and learned to paint. My father told me plainly that if I did such a stupid thing, I would get very little living while he was alive, and I would get nothing when he died. No. I said I didn't care. He called me a little fool, and that was it! I never saw him again."

Hilda said softly, "Have you never regretted it?" "No, really not. I know I'm not going to make much of it artistically, I'm never going to be a great artist - but we're happy enough in this country cottage - we have what we want everything—all the essentials. And if I die, I've made your life secure." He paused and said again: "But now—look at this." He slapped the letter with his palm. "I'm sorry your father wrote that letter, if it made you so hard," said Hilda. David continued as if he hadn't heard what she said. "Ask me to take my wife for Christmas and express a wish for us all to spend Christmas together, one big family! What would that mean?"

Hilda said, "Is there any other meaning?" He looked at her suspiciously. "I mean," she said with a laugh, "your father's getting old. He's starting to develop feelings for family ties. You know, that sort of thing does happen." "I hope so," said David greedily. "He's an old man and lonely." He glanced at her quickly. "You want me to, don't you, Hilda?" She replied aggressively: "It would seem a pity not to grant the request. Dare I say, I'm a very old-fashioned kind of person, but why can't we be peaceful and friendly at Christmas?"

"After I tell you all these things, do you still think so?" "I know, darling, I know. But that's all in the past, all things are over." "Not yet for me." "Yes, because you don't want to let it go, you let the past live in your memory." "I can't forget." "You don't want to forget—that's what you mean, Davy." His mouth was tightly shut. "That's how we are, we Lees. We'll keep things in our hearts for years—remembering it and keeping the memories alive forever." Hilda said impatiently, "What's there to be proud of? I don't think so!" He looked at her thoughtfully, with a hint of reproach in his eyes. He said, "So, don't you think there is value in being faithful? Faithful to memory?" Hilda said: "I believe in the present—not in the past, which must pass. If we keep the past alive in our memory, I think, we will eventually distort it. We will end up with An exaggerated view of the past . . . a false view." "I clearly remember every word and every detail of those days," David said excitedly. "Yes, but you shouldn't, my dear! It's not normal! You're judging things through a child's eyes instead of the more appropriate adult's." "What's the difference?" David asked. Hilda hesitated.She felt that it would be unwise to go on, but there was something she really wanted to say. "I think," she said, "that you see your father as a monster! If you saw him now, you would probably find him to be nothing more than an ordinary man. A man who perhaps had lost his passion, he His life was by no means without fault, but he was, after all, a human being—not an inhuman monster.” "You don't understand! How he treated my mother—" Hilda said solemnly: "There is a meekness—obedience—that stirs up the worst in a man—and it is the same man who, when he is confronted with the courage and determination of a woman, Could be a completely different person." "Then you say it's her fault—" Hilda interrupted him. "No, of course I didn't mean that, I never doubted that your father treated your mother very badly, but marriage is a very special thing - I doubt that any outsiders - even their children - Have a right to judge what is right and what is wrong. Besides, all your resentment has done nothing to your mother. The whole thing is over - left behind you. Now only a feeble old man remains , wanted his son to come home for Christmas." "So you want me to go?" Hilda hesitated, then suddenly made up her mind. "Yes," she said, "I want you to go and get rid of that monster forever."