Had she spoken, she might have heard true things of
Tom, sufficient so to alter her opinion of him as, at this early
stage of their intercourse, to alter the _set_ of her
feelings, which now was straight for him. It may be such an
exercise of courage would have rendered the troubles that were
now to follow unnecessary to her development. For lack of it, she
went about from that time with the haunting consciousness that
she was one who might be found out; that she was guilty of what
would go a good way to justify the hard words she had so
resented. Already the secret had begun to work conscious woe. She
contrived, however, to quiet herself a little with the idea,
rather than the resolve, that, as soon as Godfrey came home, she
would tell him all, confessing, too, that she had not the courage
to tell his mother. She was sure, she said to herself, he would
forgive her, would set her at peace with herself, and be unfair
neither to Mr. Helmer nor to her. In the mean time she would take
care--and this was a real resolve, not a mere act contemplated in
the future--not to go where she might meet him again. Nor was the
resolve the less genuine that, with the very making of it, rose
the memory of that delightful hour more enticing than ever. How
beautifully, and with what feeling, he read the lovely song! With
what appreciation had he not expounded Milton's beautiful poem!
Not yet was she capable of bethinking herself that it was but on
this phrase and on that he had dwelt, on this and on that line
and rhythm, enforcing their loveliness of sound and shape; while
the poem, the really important thing, the drift of the whole--it
was her own heart and conscience that revealed that to her, not
the exposition of one who at best could understand it only with
his brain.
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