In this--at least for a considerable space of time--I saw nothing
very remarkable. I knew his tastes previously. I had seen how
little disposed he was to grapple earnestly with the duties of his
profession; and did not conceive it surprising, that, with family
resources sufficient to yield him pecuniary independence, he should
surrender himself up to the luxurious influence of tastes which were
equally lovely in themselves, and natural to the first desires of
his mind. But when for days he was missed from his office--when
the very hours of morning which are most religiously devoted by the
profession to its ostensible if not earnest pursuit, were yielded
up to the easel--and when, overlooking the boundaries which,
according to the conventional usage, made such a course improper,
he passed many of these mornings at my house, during my absence,
I began to entertain feelings of disquietude.
For these I had then no name. The feelings were vague and indefinable,
but not the less unpleasant. I did not fancy for a moment that I
was wronged, or likely to be wronged, but I felt that he was doing
wrong. Then, too, I had my misgivings of what the world would
think! I did not fancy that he had any design to wrong me; but
there seemed to me a cruel want of consideration in his conduct.
But what annoyed me most was, that Julia should receive him at such
periods He was thoughtless, enthusiastic in art, and thoughtless,
perhaps, in consequence of his enthusiasm. But I expected that
she should think for both of us in such a case. Women, alone, can
be the true guardians of appearances where they themselves are
concerned; and it was matter of painful surprise to me that she
should not have asked herself the question: "What will the neighbors
think, during my husband's absence, to see a stranger, a young
man, coming to visit me with periodical regularity, morning after
morning?"
That she did not ask herself this question should have been a very
strong argument to show me that her thoughts were all innocent.
But there is a terrible truth in what Caesar said of his wife's
reputation: "She must be free from suspicion." She must not only do
nothing wrong, but she must not suffer or do anything which might
incur the suspicion of wrong doing. There is nothing half so sensible
to the breath of calumny, as female reputation, particularly in
regions of high civilization, where women are raised to an artificial
rank of respect, which obviates, in most part, the obligations of
their dependence upon man, but increases, in due proportion, some
of their responsibilities to him. Poor Julia had no circumspection,
because she had no feeling of evil. I believe she was purity itself;
I equally believe that William Edgerton was quite incapable of evil
design. But when I came from my office, the first morning that he
had thus passed at my house in my absence, and she told me that
he had been there, and how the time had been spent, I felt a pang,
like a sharp arrow, suddenly rush into my brain. Julia had no
reserve in telling me this fact. It was a subject she seemed pleased
to dwell upon. She narrated with the earnest, unseeing spirit of a
self-satisfied child, the sort of conversation which had taken place
between them--praised Edgerton's taste, his delicacy, his subdued,
persuasive manners, and showed herself as utterly unsophisticated
as any Swiss mountain-girl who voluntarily yields the traveller a
kiss, and tells her mother of it afterward. I listened with chilled
manners and a troubled mind.