Knowing my usually great influence with his
son, the father wondered if I could help to break the ill-advised
affair off; but I regretfully expressed my doubts. This time it was not
a question of Edward's weak will but of the woman's strong will. The
perennial child had transferred his dependence from the parental image
to a new and stronger image, and nothing could be done about it. The wedding was performed a month later by a justice of the peace
according to the bride's request. Mr. Derby, at my advice, offered
no opposition, and he, my wife, my son and I attended the brief
ceremony--the other guests being wild young people from the college. Asenath had bought the old Crowninshield place in the country at the
end of High Street, and they proposed to settle there after a short
trip to Innsmouth, whence three servants and some books and household
goods were to be brought. It was probably not so much consideration for
Edward and his father as a personal wish to be near the college, its
library, and its crowd of "sophisticates", that made Asenath settle in
Arkham instead of returning permanently home. When Edward called on me after the honeymoon I thought he looked
slightly changed. Asenath had made him get rid of the undeveloped
mustache, but there was more than that. He looked soberer and more
thoughtful, his habitual pout of childish rebelliousness being
exchanged for a look almost of genuine sadness. I was puzzled to decide
whether I liked or disliked the change. Certainly he seemed for the
moment more normally adult than ever before. Perhaps the marriage
was a good thing--might not the _change_ of dependence form a start
toward actual _neutralization_, leading ultimately to responsible
independence? He came alone, for Asenath was very busy. She had brought
a vast store of books and apparatus from Innsmouth (Derby shuddered
as he spoke the name), and was finishing the restoration of the
Crowninshield house and grounds. Her home in--that town--was a rather disgusting place, but certain
objects in it had taught him some surprizing things. He was progressing
fast in esoteric lore now that he had Asenath's guidance. Some of the
experiments she proposed were very daring and radical--he did not
feel at liberty to describe them--but he had confidence in her powers
and intentions. The three servants were very queer--an incredibly
aged couple who had been with old Ephraim and referred occasionally
to him and to Asenath's dead mother in a cryptic way, and a swarthy
young wench who had marked anomalies of feature and seemed to exude a
perpetual odor of fish. 3


For the next two years I saw less and less of Derby. A fortnight would
sometimes slip by without the familiar three-and-two strokes at the
front door; and when he did call--or when, as happened with increasing
infrequency, I called on him--he was very little disposed to converse
on vital topics. He had become secretive about those occult studies
which he used to describe and discuss so minutely, and preferred not
to talk of his wife. She had aged tremendously since her marriage,
till now--oddly enough--she seemed the elder of the two. Her face held
the most concentratedly determined expression I had ever seen, and her
whole aspect seemed to gain a vague, unplaceable repulsiveness. My wife
and son noticed it as much as I, and we all ceased gradually to call
on her--for which, Edward admitted in one of his boyishly tactless
moments, she was unmitigatedly grateful. Occasionally the Derbys would
go on long trips--ostensibly to Europe, though Edward sometimes hinted
at obscurer destinations. It was after the first year that people began talking about the change
in Edward Derby. It was very casual talk, for the change was purely
psychological; but it brought up some interesting points. Now and then,
it seemed, Edward was observed to wear an expression and to do things
wholly incompatible with his usual flabby nature. For example--although
in the old days he could not drive a car, he was now seen occasionally
to dash into or out of the old Crowninshield driveway with Asenath's
powerful Packard, handling it like a master, and meeting traffic
entanglements with a skill and determination utterly alien to his
accustomed nature. In such cases he seemed always to be just back from
some trip or just starting on one--what sort of trip, no one could
guess, although he mostly favored the Innsmouth road. Oddly, the metamorphosis did not seem altogether pleasing. People said
he looked too much like his wife, or like old Ephraim Waite himself,
in these moments--or perhaps these moments seemed unnatural because
they were so rare. Sometimes, hours after starting out in this way, he
would return listlessly sprawled on the rear seat of the car while an
obviously hired chauffeur or mechanic drove. Also, his preponderant
aspect on the streets or during his decreasing round of social contacts
(including, I may say, his calls on me) was the old-time indecisive
one--its irresponsible childishness even more marked than in the past. While Asenath's face aged, Edward's--aside from those exceptional
occasions--actually relaxed into a kind of exaggerated immaturity, save
when a trace of the new sadness or understanding would flash across it. It was really very puzzling. Meanwhile the Derbys almost dropped out of
the gay college circle--not through their own disgust, we heard, but
because something about their present studies shocked even the most
callous of the other decadents. It was in the third year of the marriage that Edward began to hint
openly to me of a certain fear and dissatisfaction. He would let fall
remarks about things "going too far", and would talk darkly about the
need of "gaining his identity". At first I ignored such references, but
in time I began to question him guardedly, remembering what my friend's
daughter had said about Asenath's hypnotic influence over the other
girls at school--the cases where students had thought they were in her
body looking across the room at themselves. This questioning seemed to
make him at once alarmed and grateful, and once he mumbled something
about having a serious talk with me later. About this time old Mr. Derby died, for which I was afterward very
thankful. Edward was badly upset, though by no means disorganized. He had seen astonishingly little of his parent since his marriage,
for Asenath had concentrated in herself all his vital sense of family
linkage. Some called him callous in his loss--especially since those
jaunty and confident moods with the car began to increase. He now
wished to move back into the old family mansion, but Asenath insisted
on staying in the Crowninshield house, to which she had become well
adjusted. Not long afterward my wife heard a curious thing from a friend--one
of the few who had not dropped the Derbys.