The Blue Flower [28]
first opportunity of speaking with me alone.
"Well?" said he.
"Well!" I answered. "You were wrong. There is no treason in
Keene's walks, no guilt in his moods. But there is something
very strange. I cannot form a judgment yet as to what we should
do. We must wait a few days. It will do no harm to be patient.
Indeed, I have promised not to judge, not to speak of it, until a
certain time. Are you satisfied?"
"This is a curious story," said he, "and I am puzzled by
it. But I trust you, I agree to wait, though I am far from
satisfied."
Our second expedition was appointed for the following
Saturday. Keene was hungry for it, and I was almost as eager,
desiring to penetrate as quickly as possible into the heart of
the affair. Already a conviction in regard to it was pressing
upon me, and I resolved to let him talk, this time, as freely
as he would, without interruption or denial.
When we clambered up on Spy Rock, he was more subdued and
reserved than he had been the first time. For a while he
talked little, but scanned view with wide, shining eyes. Then
he began to tell me stories of the places that we could
see--strange stories of domestic calamity, and social conflict,
and eccentric passion, and hidden crime.
"Do you remember Hawthorne's story of 'The Minister's
Black Veil?' It is the best comment on human life that ever
was written. Everyone has something to hide. The surface of
life is a mask. The substance of life is a secret. All
humanity wears the black veil. But it is not impenetrable.
No, it is transparent, if you find the right point of view.
Here, on Spy Rock, I have found it. I have learned how to
look through the veil. I can see, not by the light-rays only,
but by the rays which are colourless, imperceptible,
irresistible the rays of the unknown quantity, which penetrate
everywhere. I can see how men down in the great city are
weaving their nets of selfishness and falsehood, and calling
them industrial enterprises or political combinations. I can
see how the wheels of society are moved by the hidden springs
of avarice and greed and rivalry. I can see how children
drink in the fables of religion, without understanding them,
and how prudent men repeat them without believing them. I can
see how the illusions of love appear and vanish, and how men and
women swear that their dreams are eternal, even while they fade.
I can see how poor people blind themselves and deceive each
other, calling selfishness devotion, and bondage contentment.
Down at Hilltop yonder I can see how Dorothy Ward and John
Graham, without knowing it,without meaning it--"
"Stop, man!" I cried. "Stop, before you say what can
never be unsaid. You know it is not true. These are
nightmare visions that ride you. Not from Spy Rock nor from
anywhere else can you see anything at Hilltop that is not
honest and pure and loyal. Come down, now, and let us go
home. You will see better there than here."
"I think not," said he, "but I will come. Yes, of course,
I am bound to come. But let me have a few minutes here alone.
Go you down along the path a little way slowly. I will follow
you in a quarter of an hour. And remember we are to be here
together once more!"
Once more! Yes, and then what must be done?
How was this strange case to be dealt with so as to save all
the actors, as far as possible, from needless suffering? That
Keene's mind was disordered at least three of us suspected
already. But to me alone was the nature and seat of the
disorder known. How make the others understand it? They
might easily conceive it to be something different from the
fact, some actual lesion of the brain, an incurable insanity.
But this it was not. As yet, at least, he was no patient for
a mad-house: it would be unjust, probably it would be
impossible to have him committed. But on the other hand they
might take it too lightly, as the result of overwork, or
perhaps of the use of some narcotic. To me it was certain
that the trouble went far deeper
"Well?" said he.
"Well!" I answered. "You were wrong. There is no treason in
Keene's walks, no guilt in his moods. But there is something
very strange. I cannot form a judgment yet as to what we should
do. We must wait a few days. It will do no harm to be patient.
Indeed, I have promised not to judge, not to speak of it, until a
certain time. Are you satisfied?"
"This is a curious story," said he, "and I am puzzled by
it. But I trust you, I agree to wait, though I am far from
satisfied."
Our second expedition was appointed for the following
Saturday. Keene was hungry for it, and I was almost as eager,
desiring to penetrate as quickly as possible into the heart of
the affair. Already a conviction in regard to it was pressing
upon me, and I resolved to let him talk, this time, as freely
as he would, without interruption or denial.
When we clambered up on Spy Rock, he was more subdued and
reserved than he had been the first time. For a while he
talked little, but scanned view with wide, shining eyes. Then
he began to tell me stories of the places that we could
see--strange stories of domestic calamity, and social conflict,
and eccentric passion, and hidden crime.
"Do you remember Hawthorne's story of 'The Minister's
Black Veil?' It is the best comment on human life that ever
was written. Everyone has something to hide. The surface of
life is a mask. The substance of life is a secret. All
humanity wears the black veil. But it is not impenetrable.
No, it is transparent, if you find the right point of view.
Here, on Spy Rock, I have found it. I have learned how to
look through the veil. I can see, not by the light-rays only,
but by the rays which are colourless, imperceptible,
irresistible the rays of the unknown quantity, which penetrate
everywhere. I can see how men down in the great city are
weaving their nets of selfishness and falsehood, and calling
them industrial enterprises or political combinations. I can
see how the wheels of society are moved by the hidden springs
of avarice and greed and rivalry. I can see how children
drink in the fables of religion, without understanding them,
and how prudent men repeat them without believing them. I can
see how the illusions of love appear and vanish, and how men and
women swear that their dreams are eternal, even while they fade.
I can see how poor people blind themselves and deceive each
other, calling selfishness devotion, and bondage contentment.
Down at Hilltop yonder I can see how Dorothy Ward and John
Graham, without knowing it,without meaning it--"
"Stop, man!" I cried. "Stop, before you say what can
never be unsaid. You know it is not true. These are
nightmare visions that ride you. Not from Spy Rock nor from
anywhere else can you see anything at Hilltop that is not
honest and pure and loyal. Come down, now, and let us go
home. You will see better there than here."
"I think not," said he, "but I will come. Yes, of course,
I am bound to come. But let me have a few minutes here alone.
Go you down along the path a little way slowly. I will follow
you in a quarter of an hour. And remember we are to be here
together once more!"
Once more! Yes, and then what must be done?
How was this strange case to be dealt with so as to save all
the actors, as far as possible, from needless suffering? That
Keene's mind was disordered at least three of us suspected
already. But to me alone was the nature and seat of the
disorder known. How make the others understand it? They
might easily conceive it to be something different from the
fact, some actual lesion of the brain, an incurable insanity.
But this it was not. As yet, at least, he was no patient for
a mad-house: it would be unjust, probably it would be
impossible to have him committed. But on the other hand they
might take it too lightly, as the result of overwork, or
perhaps of the use of some narcotic. To me it was certain
that the trouble went far deeper