William Ashby Character Analysis

“You certainly made an impression on William Ashby,” Judith ventured presently.

There was no point in denying it. “Perhaps because I was someone new,” said Kit.

“Perhaps. You aren’t exactly pretty, you know. But naturally William would be impressed by a dress like that.”

William seemed to find nothing lacking those evenings. For him it was enough simply to sit across the room and look at her. It was flattering, she had to admit. The most eligible bachelor in Wethersfield and handsome, actually, in his substantial way. Sometimes, as she sat knitting, aware that William’s eyes were on her face, she felt her breath tightening in a way that was strange and unpleasant. Then, just as suddenly, rebellion would rise in her. He was so sure! Without even asking, he was reckoning on her as deliberately as he calculated his growing pile of lumber.

Sometimes Kit wanted to stop her ears. Would she have to hear the price of every nail that went into those board, and every single nail the finest that money could buy? […]

Judith, however took a lively interest in such details. She had a flair for line and form and a definite mind of her own, and it was plain, to Kit at least, that as William planned his house Judith was comparing it, timber for timber, with the house she dreamed for herself. Her purpose was only too apparent as she made adroit attempts to draw John Holbrook into the discussion.

“I think you should have one of those new roofs, William,” she said now. […] “I think they look so distinguished, don’t you, John?”

Mercy laughed at John’s bewilderment. “I don’t believe John even notices there’s a roof over his head,” she teased gently.

William could help her. Why hadn’t she thought of him at once? Anything William said would carry weight in the town. His position, his character, were unquestioned […] The thought steadied her. She thought of him coming to champion her […] Dear dependable William! Perhaps he would come tonight […]

It was Rachel who finally came instead.

“‘Tis no use, William,” she said now. “You and I would always be uneasy, all of our lives. We would always be hoping for the other one to be different, and always being disappointed when it didn’t happen. No matter how hard I tried, I know I could never care about the things that seem so important to you.”

“The house isn’t important to you?” he asked slowly.

“Yes, in a way it is,” she admitted. “I’d like to live in a fine house. But not if it means I have to be an example. Not if it means I can’t choose my own friends.”

“You certainly made an impression on William Ashby,” Judith ventured presently.

There was no point in denying it. “Perhaps because I was someone new,” said Kit.

“Perhaps. You aren’t exactly pretty, you know. But naturally William would be impressed by a dress like that.”

William seemed to find nothing lacking those evenings. For him it was enough simply to sit across the room and look at her. It was flattering, she had to admit. The most eligible bachelor in Wethersfield and handsome, actually, in his substantial way. Sometimes, as she sat knitting, aware that William’s eyes were on her face, she felt her breath tightening in a way that was strange and unpleasant. Then, just as suddenly, rebellion would rise in her. He was so sure! Without even asking, he was reckoning on her as deliberately as he calculated his growing pile of lumber.

Sometimes Kit wanted to stop her ears. Would she have to hear the price of every nail that went into those board, and every single nail the finest that money could buy? […]

Judith, however took a lively interest in such details. She had a flair for line and form and a definite mind of her own, and it was plain, to Kit at least, that as William planned his house Judith was comparing it, timber for timber, with the house she dreamed for herself. Her purpose was only too apparent as she made adroit attempts to draw John Holbrook into the discussion.

“I think you should have one of those new roofs, William,” she said now. […] “I think they look so distinguished, don’t you, John?”

Mercy laughed at John’s bewilderment. “I don’t believe John even notices there’s a roof over his head,” she teased gently.

William could help her. Why hadn’t she thought of him at once? Anything William said would carry weight in the town. His position, his character, were unquestioned […] The thought steadied her. She thought of him coming to champion her […] Dear dependable William! Perhaps he would come tonight […]

It was Rachel who finally came instead.

“‘Tis no use, William,” she said now. “You and I would always be uneasy, all of our lives. We would always be hoping for the other one to be different, and always being disappointed when it didn’t happen. No matter how hard I tried, I know I could never care about the things that seem so important to you.”

“The house isn’t important to you?” he asked slowly.

“Yes, in a way it is,” she admitted. “I’d like to live in a fine house. But not if it means I have to be an example. Not if it means I can’t choose my own friends.”