CHAPTER XXXIV
In this world of ours the activities of animal life seem to belimited to a plane or circle, as if that were an inherent necessity tothe creatures of a planet which is perforce compelled to swing aboutthe sun. A fish, for instance, may not pass out of the circle of theseas without courting annihilation; a bird may not enter the domain ofthe fishes without paying for it dearly. From the parasites of theflowers to the monsters of the jungle and the deep we see clearly thecircumscribed nature of their movements--the emphatic manner inwhich life has limited them to a sphere; and we are content to notethe ludicrous and invariably fatal results which attend any effort ontheir part to depart from their environment.
In the case of man, however, the operation of this theory oflimitations has not as yet been so clearly observed. The lawsgoverning our social life are not so clearly understood as to permitof a clear generalization. Still, the opinions, pleas, and judgmentsof society serve as boundaries which are none the less real for beingintangible. When men or women err--that is, pass out from thesphere in which they are accustomed to move--it is not as if thebird had intruded itself into the water, or the wild animal into thehaunts of man. Annihilation is not the immediate result. People may dono more than elevate their eyebrows in astonishment, laughsarcastically, lift up their hands in protest. And yet so well definedis the sphere of social activity that he who departs from it isdoomed. Born and bred in this environment, the individual ispractically unfitted for any other state. He is like a bird accustomedto a certain density of atmosphere, and which cannot live comfortablyat either higher or lower level.
Lester sat down in his easy-chair by the window after his brotherhad gone and gazed ruminatively out over the flourishing city. Yonderwas spread out before him life with its concomitant phases of energy,hope, prosperity, and pleasure, and here he was suddenly struck by awind of misfortune and blown aside for the time being--hisprospects and purposes dissipated. Could he continue as cheerily inthe paths he had hitherto pursued? Would not his relations with Jenniebe necessarily affected by this sudden tide of opposition? Was not hisown home now a thing of the past so far as his old easy-goingrelationship was concerned? All the atmosphere of unstained affectionwould be gone out of it now. That hearty look of approval which usedto dwell in his father's eye--would it be there any longer?Robert, his relations with the manufactory, everything that was a partof his old life, had been affected by this sudden intrusion ofLouise.
"It's unfortunate," was all that he thought to himself, andtherewith turned from what he considered senseless brooding to theconsideration of what, if anything, was to be done.
"I'm thinking I'd take a run up to Mt. Clemens to-morrow, orThursday anyhow, if I feel strong enough," he said to Jennie after hehad returned. "I'm not feeling as well as I might. A few days will dome good." He wanted to get off by himself and think. Jennie packed hisbag for him at the given time, and he departed, but he was in asullen, meditative mood.
During the week that followed he had ample time to think it allover, the result of his cogitations being that there was no need ofmaking a decisive move at present. A few weeks more, one way or theother, could not make any practical difference. Neither Robert nor anyother member of the family was at all likely to seek anotherconference with him. His business relations would necessarily go on asusual, since they were coupled with the welfare of the manufactory;certainly no attempt to coerce him would be attempted. But theconsciousness that he was at hopeless variance with his family weighedupon him. "Bad business," he meditated--"bad business." But hedid not change.
For the period of a whole year this unsatisfactory state of affairscontinued. Lester did not go home for six months; then an importantbusiness conference demanding his presence, he appeared and carried itoff quite as though nothing important had happened. His mother kissedhim affectionately, if a little sadly; his father gave him hiscustomary greeting, a hearty handshake; Robert, Louise, Amy, Imogene,concertedly, though without any verbal understanding, agreed to ignorethe one real issue. But the feeling of estrangement was there, and itpersisted. Hereafter his visits to Cincinnati were as few and farbetween as he could possibly make them.
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