They all looked to him, to make certain he was not offended, but Caleum only looked back, then pushed his chair from the table slowly and stood to his full height. He held his cane in one hand and offered the other to Elissa. She took hold of it and followed him to the dance floor, smiling but nervous for his safety.
In the middle of the room, Caleum placed one arm around Elissa’s waist and held her hand with the other, grasping his cane simultaneously in case he should lose his balance.
He did not, and when they moved over the floor it was as if wood had great respect for wood, and while he was not perfect in his movements, he was more graceful than any would have expected. They danced through two songs and made their way back to the table only when he was well tired out.
After they sat down the waiter brought over another bottle of cordial, and the two lounged in comfortable weariness. They were easy with each other then, as they had not been earlier in the night, and spoke tenderly in whispers as the rest of the room went about its affairs.
Eventually the others returned to the table as well, but by then the rest of the crowd was thinning and it was time for all to go home, or wherever they were passing the night. Caleum made arrangements to meet with Julius and Carl later in the week, when they announced their departure, but he and Elissa stayed on in the hall, reclining and talking softly. At last the music ended and they could stay there no longer, so walked out into the freezing night air together.
Under the white light of the gas lamps Caleum was bold indeed when he invited her to return with him to his room, but she declined, saying it would not do. There was, however, another inn, known as a place where lovers carried on surreptitious affairs in secret warrens, and he assented to this and let her lead him there through the frigid streets, until at last they reached the place and climbed the stairs and could be alone — as they were anxious to be.
They were still ensconced there two weeks later on Thanksgiving Day. Despite Elissa’s desire to cook for him from her own pots and serve him off her own table, they could not go where she lived, for fear of scorn and disapproval. Instead, Caleum took her to an inn he had heard of, which had the reputation of serving the best food in the city.
Julius and Carl had both left the island already, Carl to visit with his family in Boston and Julius to see a woman he had met at Mary’s Hamlet from New Jersey, but Caleum had only moved from one hotel to another, being enchanted by Elissa as their affections for each other seemed to grow and grow. He would not — and perhaps it was only guilt that held him from it — term what passed between them love, but it was a rapturous thing all the same and he thought it a worthy rival to domestic contentment, though whether it could last he dare not ask himself.
At the inn they were seated at a good table by the owner, and all through the room were elegantly dressed men and women, many with children, enjoying themselves as the waiters brought a sumptuous feast to every table. When their own table was laid, Caleum gave prayer and named all his thankfulness for that year.
Elissa testified after him, and, although she had been made nervous when he mentioned his children, she told first how glad she was for the gift of his affection — claiming to have never known any before it.
They feasted then on a meal that made clear how the place had earned its good name. Such fine food, such good drink, such merry company — however, all that could not stop Caleum from wondering to himself what was happening that day at Stonehouses. If he had been wearing his old army coat he might have gazed at its interior scene then, but that garment was on the bottom of his trunk, and he wore his new clothes, which neither comforted nor burdened him with any memories.
As she watched him, Elissa began to grow cross and asked where his thoughts were. She was in a hard position, and knew she could not make too many demands on him or even ask him to stay on beyond what he wanted, even if it was her deepest wish. She was relieved therefore when he answered her duplicitously — claiming only to be thinking of old acquaintances — satisfied that he did not say outright he was thinking of his family or else that he wished he had left already to be with them.
“This is the best Thanksgiving I have ever known,” she said, touching him on the arm and holding him fast.
“It is one of my best,” he said truthfully, thinking first on that list was the year he was first blessed with Rose.
Their joy with each other had not traveled its full course, but Elissa was afraid then it was running out, and throughout the meal she kept asking her lover for reassurances. This in turn soured Caleum’s mood, as he felt he was being pinned down.
“Let us have another cordial,” he said, “and enjoy our meal. I am as happy as I have ever been here. You must not worry so much about me leaving you.” She was serene when she heard his words, secure for the moment that his heart and devotion were with her.
Nor was what he said merely a deceit to put her off pestering him with questions. He was as happy with her that day as he could remember. It was merely a different sort of happiness than what he was used to, and the knowledge that pleasure itself could be pursued in the same way he had gone after his wife, or his yearly production, was a small unsettling revelation to him. He had thought before that stable marital harmony was the only dependable kind there was, but now he knew it was only one of many and not better than those others, merely a different formulation. It dizzied him to think of it, as he saw how arbitrary one way of life might be over another.
When he first found himself thinking this he feared it was devil’s logic; however, he did not know how to resist it, for he could find nothing sound on the other side that satisfied the question of why one form of life was better than another, or even why going after what was strenuous and correct was better than going after what delivered the greatest joy.
He knew men learned in religion would reproach him sharply and make clear with moral reasoning what was unavailable to his intellect alone — but that he loved a woman who was not his wife, even the most pious of them could not argue away, or tell him why he should not believe in its existence.
His heart then had its own method of philosophizing and reckoning, which did not square with the others at all, asking his conscious mind whether, if a man’s sin is that he is not an angel, might he still not be a worthy man.
“Will we spend Christmas together?” Elissa asked him in the midst of all this, for she was equally in love with him and saw in his eyes that she had gained ascendancy in his mind.
“Yes,” he answered her, smiling. “We will.”
She was made happy by this, but for her position to be truly impregnable she knew there was only one way to achieve that goal. For a woman she could compete with, no matter how fancy she was, but his children would always tug on his bosom, unless he had others with her. It was not a cold calculation on her part, only a reasonable one, as matters of the heart often need aids of reason to sort out their arcs and realize themselves.
When they finished with dinner, she was especially affectionate with her man and, rather than seek out other amusement for the evening, insisted that they go back to their little hotel, where they might pass the rest of the evening together in bliss.
That night as they lay again in their secret chamber, she thought how the spell of love alone could not last indefinitely, and asked him again to tell her his love for her. He answered with sweet words and knew there was much truth to them.
When he married it had been from compatibility and a sense of duty, as he was very young and feared all those other footpaths the heart might follow. With her his duty was to his heart’s happiness and his desires. He could be content with that for a very long time, he knew, perhaps even so far as the end of his days.