Time Will Darken It by William Maxwell Read Free Book Online Page B

them to enter their own house without being afraid of the dark, and it is the dark most people fear, anyway—not being murdered or robbed.
    Good night … good night
.
    Mrs. Danforth had left no light on, but then her husband was with her.
    Good night, Martha … good night, my boy
.
    Good night, Austin … good night, Martha … good night, Mrs. Potter.… Here, Grampaw, take hold of my arm
.
    I don’t need any help. I can see perfectly … good night, Miss Potter … good night
.
    Old Mr. Ellis had been listened to, and at his time of life he asked for nothing more. All the Draperville people had been so complimented, so smiled at and enjoyed that they felt a kind of lightness, as if a weight had been lifted from their backs. They tried to convey this in their parting words.
    Good night, Mrs. King. I don’t know when I’ve had such a lovely time
.
    You must come again, Mrs. Ellis
.
    Good night, Mr. King
.
    Though Mary Caroline lived next door to the Ellises, everyone expected Randolph Potter to take her home and she found him now (so firmly and relentlessly does the world push young people at one another) by her side.
    No, you don’t have to take me home, Randolph, really. It’s only a step.… Well, all right then, if you insist
.
    If it had been twenty miles, the distance from the Kings’ front porch to the Links’ front walk would have been tooshort for Mary Caroline. The summer night was barely large enough to enclose a wandering sanity, a heart that must—somewhere on the way home—sigh or break. Such a pressure around her heart the girl had never felt before. Randolph did not touch her or even take hold of her elbow as they crossed the street, but his voice was music, the night insects were violins.
    Faced with a sea of empty chairs, Austin and Martha and the Potters sat down to appreciate the quiet, recover their ordinary selves, and exchange impressions of the evening.
    “Your friends are just charming,” Mrs. Potter said. “I can’t get over how nice they were to us.”
    “There was salt in the ice cream,” Martha said.
    “It tasted like nectar and ambrosia to me,” Mrs. Potter said. “Austin, towards the end of the evening, I couldn’t help thinking of your father. You look like him, you know. And he would have been so proud of you.”
    The expression on Austin King’s face did not change, but he was pleased, nevertheless. Mrs. Potter had found the only compliment that could touch him, that he would allow himself to accept.
    “I always like a mixed party,” Mr. Potter said. “You get all kinds of people together, young and old, and they’re bound to have a good time.”
    Nora smothered a yawn. It had been a long evening, and now she wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again. She kept her head from falling forward.
    “Rich and poor,” Mr. Potter said.
    “There was nobody here who was very rich
or
very poor,” Austin said.
    “Well, people like the Danforths and the old lady with the two daughters—Mrs. Beach. They’re people of culture and refinement. They’ve travelled all over Europe, she told me. You can see they’ve always lived well. And poor old Mr. Ellis. We had a little conversation after dinner. I always feel sorry when a man gets that old and has to worry about money.”
    “The Ellises don’t have to worry about money,” Martha said, tucking a loose hairpin into place.
    “Old Mr. Ellis likes to give the impression that he’s hard up,” Austin said, “but actually he owns four hundred acres of the best farmland around here.”
    “You don’t say!”
    “It’s Mrs. Beach who has a difficult time,” Martha said. “They used to be well off—not rich exactly but comfortable—and then Mr. Beach died and left them barely enough to get along. But of course you’d never know from talking to her. She’s terribly proud.”
    “Always has been,” Austin said, nodding.
    “Nora, go to bed,” Mrs. Potter said. “You’re so sleepy you can hardly keep