The Magnificient Ambersons - Booth Tarkington [50]
George stared at the ugly houses opposite, and hated them more than ever; but he shivered. Perhaps the riffraff living in those houses sat at the windows to watch their betters; perhaps they dared to gossip—
He uttered an exclamation, and walked rapidly toward his own front gate. The victoria had returned with Miss Fanny alone; she jumped out briskly and the victoria waited.
"Where's mother?" George asked sharply, as he met her.
"At Lucy's. I only came back to get some embroidery, because we found the sun too hot for driving. I'm in a hurry."
But, going into the house with her, he detained her when she would have hastened upstairs.
"I haven't time to talk now, Georgie; I'm going right back. I promised your mother—"
"You listen!" said George.
"What on earth—"
He repeated what Amelia had said. This time, however, he spoke coldly, and without the emotion he had exhibited during the recital to his uncle: Fanny was the one who showed agitation during this interview, for she grew fiery red, and her eyes dilated. "What on earth do you want to bring such trash to me for?" she demanded, breathing fast.
"I merely wished to know two things: whether it is your duty or mine to speak to father of what Aunt Amelia—"
Fanny stamped her foot. "You little fool!" she cried. "You awful little fool!"
"I decline—"
"Decline, my hat! Your father's a sick man, and you—"
"He doesn't seem so to me."
"Well, he does to me! And you want to go troubling him with an Amberson family row! It's just what that cat would love you to do!"
"Well, I—"
"Tell your father if you like! It will only make him a little sicker to think he's got a son silly enough to listen to such craziness!"
"Then you're sure there isn't any talk?" Fanny disdained a reply in words. She made a hissing sound of utter contempt and snapped her fingers. Then she asked scornfully: "What's the other thing you wanted to know?"
George's pallor increased. "Whether it mightn't be better, under the circumstances," he said, "if this family were not so intimate with the Morgan family—at least for a time. It might be better—"
Fanny stared at him incredulously. "You mean you'd quit seeing Lucy?"
"I hadn't thought of that side of it, but if such a thing were necessary on account of talk about my mother, I—I—" He hesitated unhappily. "I suggested that if all of us—for a time—perhaps only for a time—it might be better if—"
"See here," she interrupted. "We'll settle this nonsense right now. If Eugene Morgan comes to this house, for instance, to see me, your mother can't get up and leave the place the minute he gets here, can she? What do you want her to do: insult him? Or perhaps you'd prefer she'd insult Lucy? That would do just as well. What is it you're up to, anyhow? Do you really love your Aunt Amelia so much that you want to please her? Or do you really hate your Aunt Fanny so much that you want to—that you want to—"
She choked and sought for her handkerchief; suddenly she began to cry.
"Oh, see here," George said. "I don't hate you," Aunt Fanny. "That's silly. I don't—"
"You do! You do! You want to—you want to destroy the only thing—that I—that I ever—" And, unable to continue, she became inaudible in her handkerchief.
George felt remorseful, and his own troubles were lightened: all at once it became clear to him that he had been worrying about nothing. He perceived that his Aunt Amelia was indeed an old cat, and that to give her scandalous meanderings another thought would be the height of folly. By no means unsusceptible to such pathos as that now exposed before him, he did not lack pity for Fanny, whose almost spoken confession was lamentable; and he was granted the vision to understand that his mother also pitied Fanny infinitely more than he did. This seemed to explain everything.