Fourthly, and worst of all, she discovered that she was not satisfied with half confidences, and quite pined to know all about “David’s trouble.” The little needle-book with the faded “Letty” on it haunted her; and when, after a pleasant evening below, she heard him pace his room for hours, or play melancholy airs upon the flute, she was jealous of that unknown woman who had such power to disturb his peace, and felt a strong desire to smash the musical confidante into whose responsive breast he poured his woe.
At this point Christie paused; and, after evading any explanation of these phenomena in the most skilful manner for a time, suddenly faced the fact, saying to herself with great candor and decision:
“I know what all this means: I’m beginning to like David more than is good for me. I see this clearly, and won’t dodge any longer, but put a stop to it at once. Of course I can if I choose, and now is the time to do it; for I understand myself perfectly, and if I reach a certain point it is all over with me. That point I will not reach: David’s heart is in that Letty’s grave, and he only cares for me as a friend. I promised to be one to him, and I’ll keep my word like an honest woman. It may not be easy; but all the sacrifices shall not be his, and I won’t be a fool.”
With praiseworthy resolution Christie set about the reformation without delay; not an easy task and one that taxed all her wit and wisdom to execute without betraying the motive for it. She decided that Mrs. Sterling must not be left alone on Sunday, so the young people took turns to go to church, and such dismal trips Christie had never known; for all her Sundays were bad weather, and Mr. Power seemed to hit on unusually uninteresting texts.
She talked while she sewed instead of indulging in dangerous thoughts, and Mrs. Sterling was surprised and entertained by this new loquacity. In the evening she read and studied with a diligence that amazed and rather disgusted David; since she kept all her lively chat for his mother, and pored over her books when he wanted her for other things.
“I’m trying to brighten up my wits,” she said, and went on trying to stifle her affections.
But though “the absurdity,” as she called the new revelation, was stopped externally, it continued with redoubled vigor internally. Each night she said, “this must be conquered,” yet each morning it rose fair and strong to make the light and beauty of her day, and conquer her again. She did her best and bravest, but was forced at last to own that she could not “put a stop to it,” because she had already reached the point where “it was all over with her.”