Wharton shows the reader that Newland cannot justify going against all the ethical foundations of his society. Wanting to believe he is different from men who conduct surreptitious affairs, Newland spends considerable time rationalizing his conduct. It was fine for Mrs. Thorley Rushworth to have an affair because women were not expected to be truthful in matters of love. In fact, women had to be devious because they were powerless. But no one laughed at a lawfully wedded wife who was misled. Men were to keep to a higher standard and were despised if they sowed wild oats after marriage. While he might mouth the words to Sillerton Jackson that women should be “free,” he looks on Ellen with contempt when he thinks that he can persuade her to come to him. Wharton further shows his discomfort as he passes his home, and thinks that his wife is within, along with honor and decency and all the comforts of doing the expected thing.
Time takes on a symbolic value at the art museum. Newland and Ellen meet amidst objects from former civilizations that are now “time-blurred.” Many are marked with the designation “use unknown,” and Ellen ironically remarks that these objects once belonged to forgotten people who used and valued them. To Ellen it seems cruel that nothing lasts or matters eventually. These objects bring to mind the various exacting sets of trousseau items and the numerous duties of Newland before his wedding. He commented then on the trifling concern for “form” and felt that those little details of so-called civilized life now seemed like the exercises of medieval scholars who argued over mystical or abstract terminology. Time, with its relentless power, sweeps away the trinkets, items, and fussy social distinctions with a “use unknown” label, showing their meaninglessness. Wharton reaches amazing heights in describing the protective walls of the family surrounding marriage among one’s own kind at the farewell dinner. The evening seems genuine, unselfish, and generous, but it is really a calculated and elaborate production by the family and May. They never leave Newland alone with Ellen for a moment. Amidst the gilt-edged menus and multitude of servants, this society sacrifices one of its own to protect the family. Earlier in the book, when Newland was tempted by his feelings for Ellen, the wedding was quickly planned. Now, when Newland is about to confess all, a pregnancy is announced. Like a player in a chess game, May has considered his possible moves and made defensive moves to thwart him, with the support of both mothers. They know Newland would never leave a pregnant wife and go to Europe with Ellen. Newland does not realize it, but he has been outside of the family information channels for some time.
The last chapters also bring to the forefront the powerful social order that approves of May’s actions. The van der Luydens had fled to Skuytercliff when the Beaufort scandal erupted. Now they “reluctantly but heroically” return to put the social order right. Newland still does not realize the bargaining and plotting that have been going on behind the scenes in the family. When May announces the farewell dinner, she alludes to a conversation with Ellen when she indicated that she and Newland were one in their sentiments. Later it becomes obvious that May used her pregnancy as leverage with Ellen long before May was sure that she was pregnant.
This whole subterfuge supports Wharton’s major theme that the emotions of the individual must be sacrificed for the preservation of those values that make life worth living and keep the social order intact—values that existed in the pre-World War I society of old New York.
These final chapters also highlight May and Newland’s roles. Wharton paints a change in May that careful readers notice but Newland overlooks. May lays her hand on his shoulder “with one of her rare caresses.” Despite May’s pallor, Wharton mentions her animated conversation and “unnatural vividness” more than once. May lingers over his words, hugs and kisses him, and seems to be showing him fond attention. This comes on the heels of her comment that she and Ellen had a good talk at Granny Mingott’s. Wharton is setting up May’s final triumph. Newland’s role at this dinner is that of an observer, almost floating over the scene in an after-death experience. He suddenly realizes as he looks at the dining family members that “by means yet unknown to him, the separation between himself and the partner of his guilt had been achieved.” It is the civilized way of taking a life without a drop of blood being shed.
