Forty-Eight, Compass

Forty-Eight

Compass

24 June 1824

John arrived promptly--which is to mean, early--for our Wednesday evening walk to the class meeting.  I am grateful that the leisurely pace could be afforded, for I had much to say, and even more time was needed for waiting, and then listening.

We had walked only a minute or two up the path before I spoke to him of the need to talk frankly.  He was taken by surprise, for I am not one to say much aloud, and I have heretofore not been so serious.  I had previously pondered as to the timing of telling him, for if it be before the meeting and it did not go well, it could be awkward.  And it could lead to having to tell my secret to the class, which I most vehemently did not wish to do.  I was putting John in a very tenuous position, for he takes these class meetings very seriously, including the need to pour out one's soul on any difficult matter.

I began by saying that I wished to tell him of something that could end our--friendship--and that I most earnestly did not wish such a result.  And here, he started to protest, but I stood my ground and continued.  I told him that my family has had some events in it that are not pleasant, and some that even we who witnessed such things do not discuss. 

Here, I stopped, and looked at him imploringly, for I wanted him to understand me, and I also was searching his face for any clue that what I was about to say could send him away.  What I saw gazing back at was genuine concern, and, I think, a look that said that I was important to him, and that he would try to understand.

My father--I said.  My parents--I started again--have a history of being--unkind.  To each other.  Fighting, I said, looking back up at his face which looked back at me still with a kind concern. 

Fighting in a very tumultuous way, and sometimes in a public way, at least amongst our family and closest neighbors, said I, looking at him again.  Still a kind, concerned face.

And then, there was this one fight...

My father...

Did something unforgiveable...

In front of me and my younger brother and two younger sisters...

He...

Well, it involved, um, Susie...

Here, I looked at him to see if he knew who I was talking about, for Susie came to services on Sundays, had been coming since long before I started to come, but I wasn't sure that he would make the connection.  He nodded.  He knew about whom I spoke.

He was--improper--with her.

I stopped again.  This was very difficult.  John still looked kind, and concerned, and I knew that he was going to be patient with me, for we were in danger of being late for our class, and this is something that John absolutely never does.

Well, I continued. 

Suffice it say that what happened led to divorce proceedings, and I am certain that you know how rare and how difficult such proceedings can be.  And that they are not commenced except upon the most grave of circumstances.

I looked at him again, and saw saddened eyes, looking pained.  I realized then that he cares for me far more than I had ever hoped, or deserved to hope.

Well, said I.  It is just important about those circumstances to know that my mother got custody of us three girls.

But--I stopped again, this time not looking at him, but at the ground--the scandal of divorce, and the fighting, and all that has happened since--these are not what is troubling me, exactly.

Here, I looked up.  He now was registering a concerned inquisitiveness, for I grasped that the news of my parents' troubles was not news to him at all, but that there was more... Well, he now looked curious, and in a serious manner.

My father recently told me something...

And here I stopped, for I had commenced crying, quietly, but tears flowing down my cheeks such that John searched for a handkerchief.  He found one, of course, being the gentleman that he is.

He told me--

John waited for perhaps a minute to see if I were going to continue, but my quiet tears had turned to sobs, and he held me close, speaking to me softly, oh Louisa, my heart.  There is nothing that you can say that will cause me to run from you.  And you needn't continue, this is too hard for you, my darling.

I cried for an eternity, so it seemed, him holding me close.  It was heaven, even though I was traversing hell itself. 

I had found my compass.  I was no longer alone.