Mundane Musings

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 311, 23 March 1928, Page 5

Mundane Musings

Attraction: An Interesting Question Why is it that some people attract you, and some people repel you? And why is it that some of the people who attract you repel others, while some of the people who repel you may confuse all your sense of values by becoming engaged to your best friends? And, to take an even more interesting side of the question, why is it that you attract certain people, fail to arouse the slightest interest .or emotion in other people, and —though you may be spared the knowledge—are cordially disliked by yet other people? At first we put it all down to morality. We say “I like Mr. Smith because he is nice,” or “I like Miss Jones because she is good.” This suits our ego, since it implies a wonderful sense of selection on our part. But later on, unless we are doomed to eternal blindness, we find it impossible to remain satisfied with this theory. We discover ourselves liking somebody Avho, according to all our previously agreed standards, is neither good nor nice, and we dismay ourselves by hating the society of somebody else whose life and ways are irreproachable. We either refuse to face the question, or begin to make excuses, till at last we discover that the world is full of people who express themselves differently, and who appear different, merely because through no volition of their own they have been born ‘ this way or that way, or other way, and are bound willy-nilly to react according to their compositions. Then bang go the old ideas of morality—which to me merely implies the; best possible structure to ensure human happiness—and enters the discovery that our likes and dislikes are largely if not entirely chemical. Certain ingredients mix well, certain, others do not. Certain colours harmonise, others clash. Certain notes in combination make harmony, others make discord. No ingredient or colour or note is right or wrong until it has associated itself with some other ingredient or colour or note, and this association is right or wrong according to the wisdom of the selection At any rate, logic does not seem to have much say in it, and it’s a case of hearts being trumps. The only consolation is that at least coldly calculated loves or friendships never win through. In the very nature of things, attraction being what it is, they can’t. Sausages will not burst out of their skins when fried or braised if they are left in one string as when bought and pricked with a carving fork. Do not pour cold water into enamel saucepans or dishes while still hot from cooking, as this causes the enamel to crack and chip off. the lilac autumn crocuses, sprung up after the late heavy rains. Rivett was standing outside, the barn when they appeared, laughing, red-faced and breathless,, like a pair of children. Grace’s hatless head was ruffled and looked almost golden. She was as slim and straight as the boy himself. Rivett smiled, as he went forward to meet them. His stern face relaxed and wore a friendly look, and his voice was cordial and pleasant. “So you two met up in the hills! How d’ye do, Glyn?” He turned to his wife. “Grace, I believe I forgot to tell you I had invited this young man to spend a few days. He says he doesn’t mind roughing it.”, “Who’d mind anything in this wonderful place?” the boy put in, and his blue eyes were fixed on Grace for a moment before they swept the rugged mountain ring that encircled the place where Sulpice Abbey once liad stood. Three days passed. Shean Glyn made a great difference to their lives. He was mostly with Rivett, but at meal times his bright presence spread sunshine, and his huge appetite was an endless source of amusement. But it was not long before lie began to be a cause of friction between Rivett and Grace. And it was because of that curious determination that Rivett showed that his wife should perform as much household and farmyard drudgery as possible. It was an inexplicable attitude, and Grace often pondered over it; but she did not mind the work. She was growing strong, and it was good to be occupied almost every moment of the day. But the boy was frankly horrified. He wanted to do everything for her —milk the cow, feed the chickens, lift lieayy pails, fetch wood. He obviously could not bear to see her doing these things. t At first she let him, because it was 1 quite natural, but she saw that her husband did not like it. In the end Rivett, coming upon them while Glyn was chopping wood, said to him, in the abrupt tone of voice that so humiliated his wife’s sensitive spirit: “Let Grace be, Glyn. She doesn’t want help. She likes household chores. Don’t you, Grace?” "Yes,” she answered brightly. “I keep on telling him lie’s not to bother. Truly, Mr. Glyn, I’m used to doing these things, and I like doing hem.” But the look the boy gave her was balm to her soul. The next time they were alone together. he said to her reproachfully: "I say, Mrs. Rivett, you must let me fetch and carry for you. I simply ; can’t stand your doing these bard I things. Mr. Rivett was joking.” ! "No, he -wasn’t,” she answered ! calmly. "He knows I like to be busy. Besides, if you spoiled .me like that, I should miss you too much when you went away.” "I wish you would miss me.” he said, ingenuously, and she coloured ever so slightly, and they * both laughed. But she felt that he was deeplydisturbed by her position, and, though j his companionship was a rare treat, I she wished he would go.

The next day they happened to pass by the ruins together while the men were at work. “It’s awfully interesting watching them work, Mrs. Rivett, isn’t it?” Glyn said. “That foreman is a very bright person. Let’s go and talk to him.” “You go if you like,” she answered. “I won’t come.” She gave him a swift look and then added in a voice that she could not keep from trembling, “My husband doesn’t like me to talk to the men.” Again he gave her one of those troubled, shocked looks. And at the back of his eyes was something that disconcerted her very much. But, after that incident, they spent several delightful days—the three of tfrem —taking long walks and carrying tneir lunch with them, or eating country fare in some lonely farm house. And Rivett was at his very best and seemed to look upon his wife and Glyn almost as if they were two children to be amused and indulged. And the boy’s youth and high spirits, his impulsive ways,'his irresistible smile —all that brilliant charm of his was like wine to the girl who had never been young, with young people, in all her life. He carried her off her feet with his impetuous enthusiasms, with his careless gaiety. She loved his disregard of all mundane things, his indifference to wealth, to material comfort. In that they were all three alike. Those were truly wonderful hours, and Grace remembered them all her life as a time of fragrance and joy, though there mingled with them the darkness and the sorrow of a great tragedy. One evening Rivett said to her: “I have asked Glyn to stay on for a bit. The African job can be kept open for him. He likes this life and he is a great asset here. Besides he’s a companion for you. I’m afraid I’m apt to forget that you are 25 and I am 40.” Grace flushed at the tone of his voice, which, though quite friendly, held a note of mockery.

“Oh, but I am quite happy!” she said. “I like Mr. Glyn very much, but please do not ask him to stay here on account of me. Surely, he ought to be at work.” “He’s going to work all right. I’m putting him in charge of the lumbermen in the wood. It will save me going over there so often. But do not let him wait on you hand and foot, as he’d like to do. He’s too nice a lad to become a woman’s lap dog.” Grace winced at the taunt that was so cruelly undeserved. This was one of the moments when she thought he hated her. She saw the boy alone for a few moments after dinner, when Rivett was called away to speak to the foreman. “My husband says you're staying with us,” she said to him. He looked at -her yet with fear in his eyes.

“Bo you mind, Mrs. Rivett?” he asked her eagerly. “Of course not. I am very glad.” “Your husband is so good to me,” he said. “He’s going to give me a job in Africa, but he says I ought to stay here a week or two in this beautiful air, because one can’t be too fit when one gets out to that climate.” They smiled at each other, and Grace felt a strange pang go through her. She was glad he was staying: she was a little too glad. The next day at breakfast. Rivett said, without any preamble: “I’m going to take you climbing to-day, Grace. We’ll go on the Sulpice Bass and try those crags above the Gwanyth tarn. They look healthy. You’ve always told me you used to climb a lot with your father.” “Yes,” she answered, surprised. “But I haven’t a very good head. Norman.” “Oh. you’ll be all right.” he answered carelessly. “It's a perfect day.” He did not ask Glyn to accompany them, and, from the boy’s rather doubtful glance, Grace supposed he did not like to volunteer to join them. They were away all day. It turned out to be a particularly difficult and even dangerous climb, with a really nasty traverse across the face of the smooth rock; a place that a tried and practised mountaineer would not find any too easy. Rivett climbed like a goat and he was amazingly strong, so Grace was safe on the rope that bound her to him; but she felt very helpless and, once or twice, quite sick. There were moments when Rivett had to haul her up some sheer precipice like a sack, and if she had not shut her eyes, she would have seen empty nothingness under her feet. She felt like a prisoner, utterly helpless. It was a strangely concrete example of her life with him; she felt chained to him in actual fact. And he did with her as he chose. (To be continued.)