grandly。 〃I could tell you much worse things than that。〃
This he proceeded to do。 Fascinated； I listened with a sickening
sensation。 It was a mild afternoon in spring； and we stood in the deep
limestone gutter in front of the parsonage； a little Gothic wooden house
set in a gloomy yard。
〃I thought；〃 said I； 〃that people couldn't love any more after they were
married； except each other。〃
Alec looked at me pityingly。
〃You'll get over that notion；〃 he assured me。
Thus another ingredient entered my character。 Denied its food at home；
good food； my soul eagerly consumed and made part of itself the
fermenting stuff that Alec Pound so willing distributed。 And it was
fermenting stuff。 Let us see what it did to me。 Working slowly but
surely； it changed for me the dawning mystery of sex into an evil instead
of a holy one。 The knowledge of the tragedy of Grace Hollister started
me to seeking restlessly； on bookshelves and elsewhere； for a secret that
forever eluded me； and forever led me on。 The word fermenting aptly
describes the process begun； suggesting as it does something closed up；
away from air and sunlight； continually working in secret； engendering
forces that fascinated； yet inspired me with fear。 Undoubtedly this
secretiveness of our elders was due to the pernicious dualism of their
orthodox Christianity； in which love was carnal and therefore evil； and
the flesh not the gracious soil of the spirit； but something to be
deplored and condemned； exorcised and transformed by the miracle of
grace。 Now love had become a terrible power （gripping me） whose
enchantment drove men and women from home and friends and kindred to the
uttermost parts of the earth。。。。
It was long before I got to sleep that night after my talk with Alec
Pound。 I alternated between the horror and the romance of the story I
had heard； supplying for myself the details he had omitted： I beheld the
signals from the windows； the clandestine meetings； the sudden and
desperate flight。 And to think that all this could have happened in our
city not five blocks from where I lay！
My consternation and horror were concentrated on the man；and yet I
recall a curious bifurcation。 Instead of experiencing that automatic
righteous indignation which my father and mother had felt； which had
animated old Mr。 Jules Hollister when he had sternly forbidden his
daughter's name to be mentioned in his presence； which had made these
people outcasts； there welled up within me an intense sympathy and pity。
By an instinctive process somehow linked with other experiences； I seemed
to be able to enter into the feelings of these two outcasts； to
understand the fearful yet fascinating nature of the impulse that had led
them to elude the vigilance and probity of a world with which I myself
was at odds。 I pictured them in a remote land； shunned by mankind。 Was
there something within me that might eventually draw me to do likewise？
The desire in me to which my father had referred； which would brook no
opposition； which twisted and squirmed until it found its way to its
object？ I recalled the words of Jarvis； the carpenter； that if I ever
set my heart on another man's wife； God help him。 God help me！
A wicked man！ I had never beheld the handsome and fascinating Mr。
Jennings； but I visualised him now； dark； like all villains； with a black
moustache and snapping black eyes。 He carried a cane。 I always
associated canes with villains。 Whereupon I arose； groped for the
matches； lighted the gas； and gazing at myself in the mirror was a little
reassured to find nothing sinister in my countenance。。。。
Next to my father's faith in a Moral Governor of the Universe was his
belief in the Tariff and the Republican Party。 And this belief； among
others； he handed on to me。 On the cinder playground of the Academy we
Republicans used to wage； during campaigns； pitched battles for the
Tariff。 It did not take a great deal of courage to be a Republican in
our city； and I was brought up to believe that Democrats were irrational；
inferior； andwith certain exceptions like the Hollistersdirty beings。
There was only one degree lower； and that was to be a mugwump。 It was no
wonder that the Hollisters were Democrats； for they had a queer streak in
them； owing； no doubt； to the fact that old Mr。 Jules Hollister's mother
had been a Frenchwoman。 He looked like a Frenchman； by the way； and
always wore a skullcap。
I remember one autumn afternoon having a violent quarrel with Gene
Hollister that bade fair to end in blows； when he suddenly demanded：
〃I'll bet you anything you don't know why you're a Republican。〃
〃It's because I'm for the Tariff；〃 I replied triumphantly。
But his next question floored me。 What； for example； was the Tariff？ I
tried to bluster it out； but with no success。
〃Do you know？〃 I cried finally； with sudden inspiration。
It turned out that he did not。
〃Aren't we darned idiots；〃 he asked； 〃to get fighting over something we
don't know anything about？〃
That was Gene's French blood； of course。 But his question rankled。 And
how was I to know that he would have got as little satisfaction if he had
hurled it into the marching ranks of those imposing torch…light
processions which sometimes passed our house at night； with drums beating
and fifes screaming and torches waving；thousands of citizens who were
for the Tariff for the same reason as I： to wit； because they were
Republicans。
Yet my father lived and died in the firm belief that the United States of
America was a democracy！
Resolved not to be caught a second time in such a humiliating position by
a Democrat； I asked my father that night what the Tariff was。 But I was
too young to understand it； he said。 I was to take his word for it that
the country would go to the dogs if the Democrats got in and the Tariff
were taken away。 Here； in a nutshell； though neither he nor I realized
it； was the political instruction of the marching hordes。 Theirs not to
reason why。 I was too young； they too ignorant。 Such is the method of
Authority！
The steel…mills of Mr。 Durrett and Mr。 Hambleton； he continued； would be
forced to shut down； and thousands of workmen would starve。 This was
just a sample of what would happen。 Prosperity would cease； he declared。
That word； Prosperity； made a deep impression on me； and I recall the
certain reverential emphasis he laid on it。 And while my solicitude for
the workmen was not so great as his and Mr。 Durrett's； I was concerned as
to what would happen to us if those twin gods； the Tariff and Prosperity；
should take their departure from the land。 Knowing my love for the good
things of the table； my father intimated； with a rare humour I failed to
appreciate； that we should have to live henceforth in spartan simplicity。
After that； like the intelligent workman； I was firmer than ever for the
Tariff。
Such was the idealistic plane on whichand from a good manI received
my first political instruction！ And for a long time I connected the
dominance of the Republican Party with the continuation of manna and
quails； in other words； with nothing that had to do with the spiritual
welfare of any citizen； but with clothing and food and material comforts。
My education was progressing。。。。
Though my father revered Plato and Aristotle； he did not； apparently；
take very seriously the contention that that government alone is good
〃which seeks to attain the permanent interests of the governed by
evolving the character of its citizens。〃 To put the matter brutally；
politics； despite the lofty sentiments on the transparencies in
torchlight processions； had only to do with the belly； not the soul。
Politics and government； one perceives； had nothing to do with religion；
nor education with any of these。 A secularized and disjointed world！
Our leading citizens； learned in the classics though some of them might
be； paid no heed to the dictum of the Greek idealist； who was more
practical than they would have supposed。 〃The man who does not carry his
city within his heart is a spiritual starveling。〃
One evening； a year or two after that tariff campaign； I was pretending
to study my lessons under the student lamp in the sitting…room while my
mother sewed and my father wrote at his desk； when there was a ring at
the door…bell。 I welcomed any interruption； even though the visitor
proved to be only the druggist's boy； and there was always the
possibility of a telegram announcing； for instance； the death of a
relative。 Such had once been the case when my Uncle Avery Paret had died
in New York； and I was taken out of school for a blissful four days for
the funeral。
I went tiptoeing into the hall and peeped over the banisters while Ella
opened the door。 I heard a voice which I recognized as that of Perry
Blackwood's father asking for Mr。 Paret； and then to my astonishment； I
saw filing after him into the parlour some ten or twelve persons。 With
the exception of Mr。 Ogilvy； who belonged to one of our old families； and
Mr。 Watling； a lawyer who had married the youngest of Gene Hollister's
aunts； the visitors entered stealthily； after the manner of burglars；
some of