The house was quite silent now, except when Sarah trudged up the back
stairs with the clanking silver-basket on her arm. The lamp on the
corner of her bureau flickered, and a spark wavered up the chimney;
the oil was gone and the wick charring. She got up and blew the
smouldering flame out; then sat down again in the darkness.... Yes;
Lloyd was no longer vitally interested in Frederick's health. She must
make up her mind to that. But after all, what difference did that
make? He loved her just the same, only men are not like women, they
don't keep on saying so,--for that matter, she herself did not say so
as often as in those first days. But of course she loved him just as
much. She had grown a little dull, she supposed. No; she would not
distrust him. She was sure he loved her. Yet behind her most emphatic
assertions cowered that dumb apprehension which had struck its cold
talons into her heart the day that David had hurt his hand: ...
Suppose Frederick's death should be an embarrassment to Lloyd!
In the darkness, with the brush of the locust branches against the
closed shutters of the east window, her face blazed with angry color,
and she threw her head up with a surge of pride. "If he doesn't want
me, I don't want him!" she said aloud. She pulled the lace bertha from
her shoulders, and began to take out her hairpins, "I sha'n't be the
one to say 'Let us be married.'"
When she lay down in the darkness, her eyes wide open, her arms
straight at her sides, it flashed into her mind that Frederick was
lying still and straight, too. His face must be white, now; sunken,
perhaps; the leer of his pale eyes changed into the sly smile of the
dead. Dead. Oh, at last, at last!--and her mind rushed back to
its own affairs....That horrible old Mr. Wright and his insinuations;
how she had worried over them and over the difficulty of getting away
from Old Chester, only that afternoon. Ah, well, she need never think
of such things again, for never again could any one have an insulting
thought about her; and as for her fear that Lloyd would not want her
to leave Old Chester--why, he would take her away himself! And once
outside of Old Chester, she would have a place in the world like other
women. She was conscious of a sudden and passionate elation: Like
other women. The very words were triumphant! Yes; like that
dreadful Mrs. King; oh, how intolerably stupid the woman was, how she
disliked her; but when Lloyd came and they went away together, she
would be like Mrs. King! She drew an exultant breath and smiled
proudly in the darkness. For the moment the cowering fear was
forgotten....How soon could he come? He ought to have the telegram by
ten the next morning--too late to catch the express for Mercer. He
would take the night train, and arrive at noon on Saturday. A day and
a half to wait. And at that she realized with sudden astonishment that
it was still Thursday. It seemed hours and hours since she had read
that telegram. Yet it was scarcely an hour ago that she had been
dancing the Virginia reel with those terrible people! A little later
she had noticed William King lingering behind the departing guests;
how annoyed she had been at his slowness. Then he had taken that
envelope out of his pocket--she gasped again, remembering the shock of
its contents.