We spent Thanksgiving together. It was very quiet, very sad. You both talked about mother and the old days. At breakfast the next morning you wished me good luck and went off to your office. Afterward Aunt Ethel and I talked in the living room while I waited for the train. She seemed ill at ease. She alluded to your affairs once or twice, saying that you were quite embarrassed by the state of politics, and how sad it was that people couldn't do all they wanted to in this world for others.
Uncle Richard, when Joseph came with the carriage, Aunt Ethel kissed me, cried, and gave me--a twenty dollar bill. Good God! and I thanked her for it. Twenty dollars--carfare and a week's board! I left the house completely dazed: it seemed like a bad dream....
There, there, Richard! We never imagined for a moment. I thought your college course all provided for--and your Aunt Ethel never understood business. She doubtless exaggerated my difficulty. If either of us had dreamed you were so worried! As if I should have grudged you money!
That's what I thought at first, and I hated you for it, but afterward I realized it was not that--it was worse.
Yes. It wasn't that you grudged the money, it was that you simply didn't _think_ of it. You felt that something had to be done, because I made you feel uncomfortable, but you didn't know exactly what, and you were both relieved to see me go. I had spoiled your Thanksgiving dinner--that was the depth of your realization.
No, no, Richard! You were so cold, so silent. You made it impossible for us to help you.
I suppose I did seem cold. That's the instinct of inexperienced natures when they are desperate. But it would have been so easy to break through with one kind word or act.
There, there! How glad I am that conditions are changed!
Changed, yes, but it was I who changed them! The shock of poverty was terrible at first, not because I set too much value on money, nor because I was unwilling to work, but because I felt I had no power of attack. My nature was introspective, I lived in an epic of my own creation. My strength and my courage were wrapped up in dreams, and seemed to have no relation to the practical world. I could have faced the devil himself for an ideal, but to make my own living--that was the nightmare!...