all you wish, you dear old fluttery, mothery
poet father--as though it made any difference.

HERBERT.

XXXVII

FROM DANE KEMPTON TO HERBERT WACE

STANFORD UNIVERSITY.
December 3, 19--.

Not three weeks ago you were sitting opposite me and speaking of Hester.
You admitted many things that night, amongst them that the girl never
carried you off your feet. You stated over again with precision all you
had written. You betrothed yourself, not because Hester is different
from everybody else in the world, but because she is like. You took her
for what is typical in her, not for what is individual. You preferred to
walk toward her before your steps were impelled, because you feared that
impulsion would preclude rational choice. With the hope of out-tricking
nature, you reached for Hester Stebbins, in order that there might be a
wall between your heart's fancy and yourself, should your heart become
rebellious. I was to understand that this is the new school, that so
live the masters of matter and of self.

And as you spoke, I wondered about the woman Hester and the form of
love-making which existed between you, and whether she was simple and
without any charm despite her culture and her gift of song. "She either
loves him too well to know or to have the strength to care, or she is,
like him, of the new school," I thought. I sat and watched you, noting
your youth, surprised by the scorn in your eyes and the sadness on your
lips. You seemed hopeless and helpless. I closed my eyes. "What has he
left himself?" I kept asking. "How will he tread 'The paths gray heads
abhor?'" My own head bowed itself as before an irreparable loss. I had
rejoined the child of my care only to find him blasted as by grief, the
first sunshine smitten from his face and his heart weighted. One word,
one ray lighting your looks in a wonted way, one uncontrolled movement
of the hand, one little silence following the mention of her, would have
led me to believe that I had not understood and that all was well. The
night grew old with your plans and analyses. We parted with a sense of
shame upon us that we should have written and spoken so long and with
such heat, and to such little purpose.

You do not see how this answers your last letter. I will tell you. It
shows you that you have explained yourself fully the night we spoke face
to face.

You say that Hester is the woman to complement your man. This sounds
like a lover, only I happen to kn