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| "They?" I said, gathering the silver from the drawer. "Is he married?" "Yes. Grace, I think her name is. A frail thing. I think she's been ill." The familiar sound of horses clomping up the road brought Mother to the window. "Here's Papa. Be a good girl and help him tie the horses." "Oughtn't we take a cake?" "What?" "A cake. To the Donally's." "Oh, yes. Now go help Papa." "How old is he?" I asked over my shoulder as I walked out the door. "Papa?" "Mister Donally." "Oh. Thirty, I think. Why?" "Just wondering." I remember being quite shocked to find that a man of such an advanced age could be so handsome. How strange that seems now. You, my dear, are far beyond what he was then. I am well beyond thirty years myself, but this was long ago, and through the eyes of a girl of but sixteen years. At his kind invitation, I made a habit of going to the shop to watch him preform his glass miracles after school. One such afternoon stands out in my mind. "Well," he said, "should I make a vase or a bottle?" "I don't know," I answered. "Trust thyself." I was pleased at my own cleverness in working Emerson into our conversation. "No, Miss," he said, eyes sparkling, "trust thy God." He made a chimney. I somehow felt guilty for having referenced Emerson. I was in awe. From that day forward, I thrived upon hearing his thoeries and beliefs. I listened intently, argued furiously, and, usually, I went home and wondered why I was no longer certain of the validity of my arguments. "My mother is driving me mad," I said. I was determined to bring controversial topics into conversation, simply to see his reaction. The consistant perfection of his answers was baffling to me, but I valued it beyond all measure. It never once happened that I left such a conversation without knowing in my heart that he was right. Certainly, I did not abandon all of my convictions, but I did let go of many, and I was no longer as certain of many others. I had never before met anybody possessed of such power. After conversations with him, I questioned even those beliefs which I held most dear. Such was the extent of my esteem for him. Frightened by the fact that a mere contradiction from him could make me want to change, I began to watch him, searching vehemently for some mortal flaw, trying desperately to make him confess a belief that was, by my instinct, wrong. It never happened. Never had I heard him voice a belief that I did not know in my heart to be Right and True. "She insists I wear shoes. Elisabeth's mother doesn't make her wear shoes. To school, yes, but just to play out in Winterbottom's feild?" "Your mother wants you to be a lady," he said as he brought the rod to his mouth. He began to blow, and I watched the bubble grow. "Why is it forbidden for me to feel the grass between my toes just because I'm a girl? Is it so wrong, really?" He brought the rod down and began to remove the bubble. "A wise woman once said that it is one thing for a girl to compete with a boy at being a good student, or a good person, or even a good fisherman, but it's quite another for a girl to compete with him at being a boy. It can't be done. You can never be a good man. At best, you would be a bad woman. You have the potential to be a wonderful lady, though." "Who said that," I asked, thinking I might never remove my shoes again. "Grace." He smiled. His whole face lit up as he pronounced her name. You do that. That's why I consented to marry you. Of course, I loved you, but really I married you because I knew you loved me. I could see it in your eyes when you spoke of me to others: when I saw you tell your brother about me, and when you asked my father for my hand. Your face lit at the thought of me, just as his had lit at the thought of Grace. I wondered what she looked like. Even when Mother and I brought that cake to them, Mister Donally said that, although his wife was most appreciative, she could not greet us, as she was too weak. |
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