Angel Island, Inez Haynes Gillmore [the two towers ebook txt] 📗

>unbelievably wonderful would happen. They hunted for that spring

untiringly - hunted - and hunted - and hunted. At last they found it.

And after they found it, we no longer interested them. The mystery and

fascination had gone. After all, a toy is only a toy.”

 

“Then came our great trouble - that terrible time of the illicit

hunting. Every man of them making love to some one of you. Every woman

of you making love to some one of them. That was a year of despair for

me. I could see no way out. It seemed to me that you were all drifting

to destruction and that I could not stay you. And then I began to

realize that the root of evil was only one thing idleness. Idle men!

Idle women! And as I wondered what we should do next, Nature took the

matter in her hands. She gave all you women work to do.”

 

Julia paused. Her still gray eyes fixed on faraway things.

 

“Honey-Boy was born, then Peterkin, then Angela, then Honey-Bunch. And

suddenly everything was right again. But, somehow, the men seemed soon

to exhaust the mystery and fascination of fatherhood just as they had

exhausted the mystery and fascination of husbandhood. They became

restless and irritable. It seemed to me that another danger beset us -

vague, monstrous, looming - but I did not know what. You see they have

the souls of discoverers and explorers and conquerors, these earth-men.

They are creators. Their souls are filled with an eternal unrest. Always

they must attempt one thing more; ever they seek something beyond. They

would stop the sun and the moon in their courses; they would harness the

hurricane; they would chain the everlasting stars. Sea, earth, sky are

but their playgrounds; past, present, future their servants; they lust

to conquer the unexplored areas of space and time. It came to me that

what they needed was work of another kind. One night, when I was lying

awake thinking it over, the idea of the New Camp burst on my mind. Do

you remember how delighted they were when I suggested it to them, how

delighted you were, how gay and jubilant we all were, how, for days and

days, we talked of nothing else? And we were as happy over the idea as

they. For a long time, we thought that we were going to help.

 

“We thought that we were going with them every day, not to work but to

sit in the nearby shade, to encourage them with our praise and

appreciation. And we did go for a month. But they had to carry us all

the way - or nearly carry us. Think of that - supporting a full-grown

woman all that weary road. I saw the feeling begin to grow in them that

we were burdens. I watched it develop. Understand me, a beautiful

burden, a beloved burden, but still a burden, a burden that it would be

good to slip off the back for the hours of the working day. I could not

blame them. For we were burdens. Then, under one pretext or another,

they began to suggest to us not to go daily to the New Camp with them.

The sun was too hot; we might fall; insects would sting us; the sudden

showers were too violent. Finally, that if we did not watch the New Camp

grow, it would be a glorious surprise to us when it was finished.

 

“At first, you were all touched and delighted with their gallantry - but

I - I knew what it meant.”

 

“I tried to stem the torrent of their strange, absorption, but I could

not. It grew and grew. And now you see what has happened. It has been

months since one of us has been to the New Camp and all of you, except

Peachy and myself, have entirely lost interest in it. It is not

surprising. It is natural. I, too, would lose interest if I did not

force myself to talk with Billy about it every night of my life. Lulu

said yesterday that it seemed strange to her that, after working

together all day, they should want to get together in the Clubhouse at

night. For a long time that seemed strange to me - until I discovered

that there is a chain binding them to each other even as there is a

chain binding them to us. And the Bond of Work is stronger than the Bond

of Sex because Work is a living, growing thing.”

 

“In the meantime, we have our work too - the five children. But it is a

little constructive work - not a great one. For in this beautiful, safe

island, there is not much that we can do besides feed them. And so, here

we sit day after day, five women who could once fly, big, strong,

full-bodied, teeming with various efficiencies and abilities - wasted.

If we had kept our wings, we could have been of incalculable assistance

to them. Or if we could walk - .”

 

“But I won’t go further into our situation. I want to consider

Angela’s.”

 

“You are wondering what all this has to do with the matter of Angela’s

flying. And now I am going to tell you. Don’t you see if they wait until

she is a woman before they cut her wings, she will be in the same case

that we are in, unable either to fly or to walk. Rather would I myself

cut her wings tonight and force her to walk. But on the other hand,

should she grow to womanhood with wings, she would be no true mate to a

wingless man unless she could also walk. No, we must see to it that she

both flies and walks. In that case, she will be a perfect mate to the

wingless man. Her strength will not be as great as his - but her

facility will be greater. She will walk well enough to keep by his side;

and her flying will supplement his powers.”

 

“And then - oh, don’t you see it - don’t you see why we must fight -

fight - fight for Angela, don’t you see why her wings are a sacred trust

with us? Sometime, there will be born here - - Clara,” she turned her

look on Clara’s excited face, “it may be the baby that’s coming to you

in the spring - sometime there will be born here a boy with wings. Then

more and more often they will come until there are as many winged men as

winged women. What will become of our girl-children then if their mates

fly as well as walk away from them. There is only one way out. And there

is only one duty before us - to learn to walk that we may teach our

daughters to walk - to preserve our daughter’s wings that they may teach

their sons to fly.”

 

“But, Julia,” Peachy exclaimed, after an instant of dead silence. There

was a stir of wonder, flutelike in her voice, a ripple of wonder,

flamelike on her face. “Our feet are too fine, too soft. Ralph says that

mine are only toy feet, that no creature could really get along on

them.”

 

She kicked the loose sandals off. Tiny, slim, delicately chiseled, her

feet were of a china whiteness, except where, at the tips, the toes

showed a rose-flush or where, over the instep, the veins meandered in a

blue network.

 

“Of course Peachy’s feet are smaller than mine,” Lulu said wistfully.

“But even my workaday little pads wouldn’t carry me many steps.” From

under her skirts appeared a pair of capable-looking, brown feet, square,

broad but little and satin-smooth.

 

“Mine are quite useless,” Chiquita sighed. “Oh, why did I let myself

grow so big?” There was a note of despair in her velvet voice. “It’s

almost as if there were no muscles in them.” She pulled aside her

scarlet draperies. In spite of her increasing size, her dusky feet had

kept their aristocratic Andalusian lines.

 

“And I’ve always done just the things that would make it impossible for

me to walk,” said Clara in a discouraged tone. “I’ve always taken as

much care of my feet as my hands - they’re like glass.” This was true.

In the pale-gold of her skin, the pink nails glittered brilliantly.

 

“And think of your own feet, Julia,” Lulu exclaimed. “They’re like

alabaster. Pete says that from the artist’s point of view, they’re

absolutely perfect. You don’t imagine for an instant that you could take

a step on them, unsupported?”

 

“No?” said Julia. “No?” With a swift leap of her body, she stood on the

feet in question. And as the other stared, stupefied, she walked with

the splendid, swinging gait of an Amazon once, twice, thrice around the

Playground.

 

“Come, Angela!” Peachy called. “Come, baby!”

 

Angela started to spread her pinions. “Don’t fly, baby,” Peachy called.

“Walk!”

 

Obediently, Angela dropped her wings, sank. Her feet, shell-like,

pinky-soft, padded the ground. She tried to balance, but she swayed and

fell.

 

“No matter, darling!” Peachy called cheerily, “Try again!”

 

Angela heroically pulled herself up. She made a few uncertain steps, but

she stumbled with every move.

 

Honey-Boy and Peterkin came running up to her side; Junior, grinning

happily, waddled behind a long way in the rear. “Angela’s trying to

walk!” the boys cried. “Angela’s trying to walk!” They capered with

amusement. “Oh, isn’t she funny? Look at the girl trying to walk!”

 

The tears spurted from Angela’s eyes. Her lips quivered. Her wings shot

up straight.

 

“Don’t mind what the boys say, Angela!” Peachy called. “Put your wings

down! Keep right on walking!”

 

Again Angela’s pinions dropped. Again she took a few steps. This time

she fell to her knees. But she pulled herself up, sped onward, fell

again, and again. She had reached the stones that bounded the sand. When

she arose this last time, her foot was, bleeding.

 

“Keep on walking, baby!” Peachy commanded inflexibly. But there was a

rain of tears on her check.

 

Angela staggered forward a rod or two; and now both feet left a trail of

blood. Then suddenly again she struggled for balance, fell headlong.

 

“Keep on walking, mother’s heart’s treasure,” Peachy commanded. She

dropped to her knees and held out her arms; her face worked

uncontrollably.

 

Angela pulled herself up with a determined settling of her little

rose-petal mouth. Swaying, stumbling, staggering, she ran on in one

final spurt until she collapsed in her mother’s arms.

VIII

“And as soon as we finish the New Camp,” Honey said eagerly, “we must

make another on the rocks at the north. That will be our summer place.”

 

“And as soon as we’ve finished that, let’s build a house-boat for the

lake,” Billy suggested.

 

“Then let’s put up some hunting-boxes at the south,” Ralph took it up.

 

“There’s a good year’s work on the New Camp,” Frank reminded them.

 

“But after the New Camp and the Hunting-Boxes and the House-Boat -

what?” Ralph asked a little drearily.

 

“Plenty to do,” Billy promised cheerily. “I’ve been working on a plan to

lay out the entire island in camps and parks. Pete, I want to bring them

over to you some night.”

 

“Come tonight,” Pete said eagerly.

 

“Why not bring them to the Clubhouse,” Honey asked. “I’d like to see

them, too. While I’m working with my hands on one job, I like to be

working with my head on the next.”

 

“Sure,” agreed Ralph, “I’m for that. I’ll join you tonight. Can you

come, Frank?”

 

“I had meant to write tonight,” Frank said. “But of course I can