William Monk 11 - Slaves of Obsession

not forced together by common circumstances any longer. Suddenly it was a matter of choice. That she had to make it at all was painful enough, and her misery was clear.
    “It was a very mixed blessing, wasn’t it?” Hester replied equally quietly. She did not wish anyone else to hear their exchange, and with as many conversations as there were going on, it was not difficult to submerge themselves in the sea of voices.
    Merrit did not answer. She still did not wish to commit herself to saying aloud that the certainty was gone. The crusade was glorious, but it was not really love, not enough for a marriage.
    “I’m sorry,” Hester said, and she meant it profoundly. She had mourned dreams herself, and knew the pain of it.
    Merrit lowered her eyes. “I don’t understand him,” she said under her breath. “He didn’t ever really love me, did he? Not as I loved him.”
    “He probably loves you as much as he is able to.” Hester searched her mind to find the truth.
    Merrit looked up. “What shall I do? He’s an honorable man, I always knew he wasn’t guilty! Not just of actively being there, but of persuading Shearer to do it either.”
    “Are you sure he wouldn’t have taken the guns even if he had known that they were tainted by murder?” Hester asked.
    Merrit gulped. “No …” she whispered. “He believes the cause is great enough to justify any means of serving it. I … I don’t think I can share that belief. I know I can’t feel it. Maybe my idealism isn’t strong enough. I don’t see the great vision. Perhaps I’m not as good as he is.…” That was almost a question; the pleading for an answer was in her eyes. Even now she was half convinced the fault was hers, that it was she who lacked a certain nobility that would have enabled her to see things as he did.
    “No,” Hester said decisively. “To see the mass and losethe individual is not nobility. You are confusing emotional cowardice with honor.” She was even more certain as she found the words. “To do what you believe is right, even when it hurts, to follow your duty when the cost in friendship is high, or even the cost in love, is a greater vision, of course. But to retreat from personal involvement, from gentleness and the giving of yourself, and choose instead the heroics of a general cause, no matter how fine, is a kind of cowardice.”
    Merrit still looked doubtful. Part of her understood, but she had not found words to explain it to herself. She frowned, struggling to make final the realization she had been trying not to see for days.
    “I couldn’t love anyone who would put me before what he believed was right. I mean … I could love him, but not with a whole heart, not the same way.”
    “Neither could I,” Hester agreed, seeing the momentary relief in Merrit’s eyes, then the confusion return. “I would want him to do what was right, no matter how it would hurt. That’s the difference. I would want the cost to me to tear him apart … not to add to his sense of glory.”
    Merrit trembled on the edge of tears. “I … I really believed … you can’t leave it behind so easily, can you?”
    “No.” Hester touched her arm very gently. “Of course not. But I think going with him, pretending all the time, watching the reality grow sharper, would be even more difficult.”
    Breeland was coming towards them. He looked a trifle awkward, uncertain what to say now that the tension had passed. He had the guns; he was proved innocent and acquitted. Perhaps he did not even understand the chill in the air.
    Judith turned to watch, but she remained where she was.
    “Thank you for your efforts on our behalf, Mrs. Monk,” Breeland said stiffly. “I am sure you did it because you believed it to be right; nevertheless we are grateful.”
    “You are mistaken,” Hester said, meeting his eyes. “I had no idea whether it was right or not. I did it because I care for Merrit. I hoped she was innocent, and I believed it as long as I could, because I wanted to. Fortunately, I still can.”
    “That is the sort of reasoning a woman is free to have, I suppose,” he said with faint disapproval. “But it is too emotional.” A very small smile touched his lips. “I do not wish to be ungracious.” He turned to Merrit. “Perhaps you would prefer to remain some time with your mother before we return to Washington. I understand that. I can wait at least a week, then I should rejoin my regiment. I have very little