Hudson River Bracketed · Book V · Chapter 30 (2/2)

She sat down beside him again, and while he covered his eyes from the glare of his own blunder he heard her, on another plane of consciousness, with other ears, as it were⁠—heard her talking to him reasonably, wisely, urgently of his work, of the opportunities ahead of him, of what he was justified in hoping, of what his effort and ambition ought to be: all in an affectionate “older friend” voice, a voice so cool and measured that every syllable fell with a little hiss on the red-hot surface of his humiliation.

“You know how I’ve always believed in you, Vance. Oh, but that’s nothing⁠ ⁠… I’m nobody. But my husband believes in you too⁠ ⁠… believed in you from the first, before I’d read anything of yours; he’s proved his belief, hasn’t he? And Frenside⁠—Frenside, who’s never pleased, never satisfied⁠ ⁠… And when they see what you’ve done now they’ll feel they were justified⁠—I know they will.⁠ ⁠… Vance, you know artists always have these fits of discouragement⁠ ⁠… often just when they’ve done their best; it’s the reaction after successful effort. And this is your best so far, oh, so much your best! I’m sure something still bigger and better will follow; but meanwhile, dear boy, for your soul’s sake you must believe in this, you must believe in yourself.⁠ ⁠…”

For his soul’s sake he could not have looked up or changed his attitude. Her friendly compassion crushed him to earth, her incomprehension held him there. “If she’d only go,” he thought, “if only it was over.⁠ ⁠…”

The stillness was broken by the scraping of her pushed-back chair. He felt a stir of air as she moved, and heard, through interlocked hands, her footfall sink into the bottomless silence of the old house. A door closed. She had gone; it was over.⁠ ⁠…