第23章 THE WAITING SUPPER(16)

Wake was too amazed to reply;she retreated slowly,her lips parted;till at the door she said with a dry mouth,'And the beautiful supper,ma'am?''Serve it when he comes.'

'When Mr.Bellston--yes,ma'am,I will.'She still stood gazing,as if she could hardly take in the order.

'That will do,Mrs.Wake.I am much obliged to you for all your kindness.'And Christine was left alone again,and then she wept.

She sat down and waited.That awful silence of the stopped clock began anew,but she did not mind it now.She was listening for a footfall in a state of mental tensity which almost took away from her the power of motion.It seemed to her that the natural interval for her husband's journey thither must have expired;but she was not sure,and waited on.

Mrs.Wake again came in.'You have not rung for supper--''He is not yet come,Mrs.Wake.If you want to go to bed,bring in the supper and set it on the table.It will be nearly as good cold.

Leave the door unbarred.'

Mrs.Wake did as was suggested,made up the fire,and went away.

Shortly afterwards Christine heard her retire to her chamber.But Christine still sat on,and still her husband postponed his entry.

She aroused herself once or twice to freshen the fire,but was ignorant how the night was going.Her watch was upstairs and she did not make the effort to go up to consult it.In her seat she continued;and still the supper waited,and still he did not come.

At length she was so nearly persuaded that the arrival of his things must have been a dream after all,that she again went over to them,felt them,and examined them.His they unquestionably were;and their forwarding by the porter had been quite natural.She sighed and sat down again.

Presently she fell into a doze,and when she again became conscious she found that the four candles had burnt into their sockets and gone out.The fire still emitted a feeble shine.Christine did not take the trouble to get more candles,but stirred the fire and sat on.

After a long period she heard a creaking of the chamber floor and stairs at the other end of the house,and knew that the farmer's family were getting up.By-and-by Mrs.Wake entered the room,candle in hand,bouncing open the door in her morning manner,obviously without any expectation of finding a person there.

'Lord-a-mercy!What,sitting here again,ma'am?''Yes,I am sitting here still.'

'You've been there ever since last night?'

'Yes.'

'Then--'

'He's not come.'

'Well,he won't come at this time o'morning,'said the farmer's wife.'Do 'ee get on to bed,ma'am.You must be shrammed to death!'

It occurred to Christine now that possibly her husband had thought better of obtruding himself upon her company within an hour of revealing his existence to her,and had decided to pay a more formal visit next day.She therefore adopted Mrs.Wake's suggestion and retired.

CHAPTER VIII

Nicholas had gone straight home,neither speaking to nor seeing a soul.From that hour a change seemed to come over him.He had ever possessed a full share of self-consciousness;he had been readily piqued,had shown an unusual dread of being personally obtrusive.

But now his sense of self,as an individual provoking opinion,appeared to leave him.When,therefore,after a day or two of seclusion,he came forth again,and the few acquaintances he had formed in the town condoled with him on what had happened,and pitied his haggard looks,he did not shrink from their regard as he would have done formerly,but took their sympathy as it would have been accepted by a child.

It reached his ears that Bellston had not appeared on the evening of his arrival at any hotel in the town or neighbourhood,or entered his wife's house at all.'That's a part of his cruelty,'thought Nicholas.And when two or three days had passed,and still no account came to him of Bellston having joined her,he ventured to set out for Froom-Everard.

Christine was so shaken that she was obliged to receive him as she lay on a sofa,beside the square table which was to have borne their evening feast.She fixed her eyes wistfully upon him,and smiled a sad smile.

'He has not come?'said Nicholas under his breath.

'He has not.'

Then Nicholas sat beside her,and they talked on general topics merely like saddened old friends.But they could not keep away the subject of Bellston,their voices dropping as it forced its way in.

Christine,no less than Nicholas,knowing her husband's character,inferred that,having stopped her game,as he would have phrased it,he was taking things leisurely,and,finding nothing very attractive in her limited mode of living,was meaning to return to her only when he had nothing better to do.

The bolt which laid low their hopes had struck so recently that they could hardly look each other in the face when speaking that day.But when a week or two had passed,and all the horizon still remained as vacant of Bellston as before,Nicholas and she could talk of the event with calm wonderment.Why had he come,to go again like this?

And then there set in a period of resigned surmise,during which So like,so very like,was day to day,that to tell of one of them is to tell of all.Nicholas would arrive between three and four in the afternoon,a faint trepidation influencing his walk as he neared her door.He would knock;she would always reply in person,having watched for him from the window.

Then he would whisper--'He has not come?'

'He has not,'she would say.