Marc, however, did not know it, and even if he had, the problem would still have been only half-solved. It was not enough for him to believe in her; he had also to believe in himself.
His eyes met hers and he said, "You should have known me ten years ago when I was still full of illusions".
"And still trying", said Erica, looking away from him. "Instead of just sitting around-or rather just lying around, you’re too supine to be described as ’sitting’!-agreeing with everybody". She jabbed the burned match which she was still holding in her hand as far as it would go into the earth which was covered with a thin carpet of pine needles, then bringing her eyes back to his face she said in a different tone, "Most people are born into a fixed social pattern and just travel along their particular groove till they get to the other end and die, but once in a while, somebody gets a chance to climb out of his groove and give the whole thing a push from behind. Well, they either take that chance or they don’t. I know a couple of people who have and so do you. Look at Max Rosenberg and Betty Innes…".
"Yes", said Marc. "Look, at them-or rather look at their families. Their families kicked up such a row that Max and Betty ended up by moving to Toronto, flat broke and starting all over again".
"Well, Toronto’s better".
"Is it?"
"You know it is!" said Erica, exasperated.
"Go on about the groove, darling", he said, looking amused.
"Most people haven’t got the Rosenbergs’ guts. They just climb out for a while, take a good look around, get scared and decide it’s too tough and climb down again. They play safe. But the people who play safe don’t change anything-they just sit tight and wait for someone else to change it. Do you think that’s what you and I are for-just to play safe and wait?"
"I don’t know", he said, looking down at the long cloud of smoke which the afternoon train from Montreal had left behind on its way through the valley a few minutes before. The smoke was drifting upwards against the background of evergreens, so slowly that he knew the wind must have dropped. He glanced upwards at the motionless trees overhead and said hopelessly again, "I don’t know, Eric. I wouldn’t want you to look the way Betty Rosenberg does now, anyhow".
"Why?"
"She looks as though she’s washed too many dishes and scrubbed too many floors and stayed awake too many nights worrying because they can’t afford to send the kids to a private school, where the fact that they’re Jews maybe wouldn’t matter so much. She’s even beginning to look as though she’s not sure now whether it was worth it or not".
"I don’t believe you", said Erica involuntarily.
He shrugged and said, "Well, perhaps she just happened to look like that the evening I was there".
They were silent for a while, and then he asked without warning, "Did your father object to your coming up here?"
"Yes", said Erica after a pause. "I didn’t think he’d make an issue of it now, particularly when he only has to stand it a few more days".
For a moment Marc seemed merely surprised, then he said, "But you are here. How did you manage it?"
"I just came".
"You couldn’t ’just come’. You must have walked out".
She turned her head quickly to look at him and then asked with sudden terror, "What do you think I should have done?"
"I can’t answer that, Eric".
"Would you have come to Montreal?"
"I’m not sure", he said almost inaudibly.
She began to cry and he put his arm around her and drew her head down on his shoulder without saying anything. She knew that he was still looking straight ahead of him with that bleak look, and she went on crying with her face partly hidden against his shirt.
Finally he said, "This must be about the last straw so far as your family is concerned". He took out his handkerchief and dried her eyes and put the handkerchief away again. Then he asked, "Exactly what did happen on Monday?"
"Charles came into my room when I was packing and said that I was not to go".
"Didn’t you tell him beforehand that you were going?"
"Yes, I told them the night you phoned".
"Then why didn’t he…"
"I guess it was because of Mother. She tried to make Charles promise not to try to stop me from going, and when it was all over and she found out what had happened, she came running down the hall and she kept saying, ’I told you, Charles, I told you,’ and she was so upset that she was nearly out of her head. So was Charles, only he was angry too. I’ve never seen him so angry. He just went into his study and shut the door. I told Mother I’d behaved awfully badly and that it was just as much my fault as it was his, only he’d put me in a position where either I had to stay home, or if I went, then he made it clear that I’d be doing something so wrong that there wouldn’t be enough left for us to go on with afterwards. He said I’d never be the same to them again".
At least she could leave Marc a few shreds of self-respect; there was no unfairness to her father in leaving out the part in which he had offered to have Marc to the house. It did not put Charles Drake in any better light.
She went on, as Marc had said nothing, "I guess Mother knew what would happen. She’s just as uncompromising as Charles is, she was brought up the same way and she feels the same way about things, and it was just as hard for her as it was for Charles, but she cares far more for justice, and she has a terrible sense of moral responsibility for this whole situation. She said that it was mostly her fault because she’s my mother, and that they’d both let me down so badly that they no longer had any right to interfere. I wouldn’t have gone then if she’d asked me not to, but she wouldn’t. She said she wouldn’t even ask me to come back, because it was up to Charles now".
After a pause Erica added, trying to steady her voice, "It wasn’t her fault. That’s what is so rotten about it".
"Yes", said Marc.
A little later she said, "You’ve got to understand why I couldn’t give in to Charles. It’s not facts that hurt people, it’s their attitude toward facts. I’m not responsible for Charles’ attitude toward you and toward something that only concerns us. I can’t make you pay for it, because it’s not fair. I can’t help his attitude, I can’t change it. He invents half his own suffering, and I can’t make you suffer instead, simply because my father chooses to think that…"
"I know what he thinks I am".
She turned to him and put her arms around him and said with tears running down her face again, "Marc, I love you so much!"
"Don’t cry, darling. It doesn’t help".
She knew now that there was no longer any chance, even for a miracle, and she said, "I wanted these last three days to be perfect, so that when you went away, you’d remember what it was like at the end, and maybe the rest of it wouldn’t be so important…".
"But you see, Eric, this is just the end of the rest of it".
He took out his handkerchief and wiped away her tears and smiled at her. Then the smile faded from his oblique, greenish eyes and he asked, "What else did you want, darling?"
"I wanted you to believe-to believe in us. I wanted you to go overseas believing in us. I don’t care how long I have to wait, that isn’t what matters".