Where the valleys widened we came to silent,decorous little towns and villages where yellow-lit windows gleaming through the trees suggested refuge and peace,while we were wanderers in the night.It was Nancy's mood;and now,in the evening's chill,it recurred to me poignantly.In one of these villages we passed a church,its doors flung open;the congregation was singing a familiar hymn.I slowed down the car;I felt her shoulder pressing against my own,and reached out my hand and found hers.
"Are you warm enough?"I asked....
We spoke but little on that drive,we had learned the futility of words to express the greater joys and sorrows,the love that is compounded of these.
It was late when we turned in between the white dates and made our way up the little driveway to the farmhouse.I bade her good night on the steps of the porch.
"You do love me,don't you?"she whispered,clinging to me with a sudden,straining passion."You will love me,always no matter what happens?""Why,of course,Nancy,"I answered.
"I want to hear you say it,'I love you,I shall love you always.'"I repeated it fervently....
"No matter what happens?"
"No matter what happens.As if I could help it,Nancy!Why are you so sad to-night?""Ah,Hugh,it makes me sad--I can't tell why.It is so great,it is so terrible,and yet it's so sweet and beautiful."She took my face in her hands and pressed a kiss against my forehead....
The next day was dark.At two o'clock in the afternoon the electric light was still burning over my desk when the telephone rang and I heard Nancy's voice.
"Is that you,Hugh?"
"Yes."
"I have to go East this afternoon."
"Why?"I asked.Her agitation had communicated itself to me."I thought you weren't going until Thursday.What's the matter?""I've just had a telegram,"she said."Ham's been hurt--I don't know how badly--he was thrown from a polo pony this morning at Narragansett,in practice,and they're taking him to Boston to a private hospital.The telegram's from Johnny Shephard.I'll be at the house in town at four."Filled with forebodings I tried in vain to suppress I dropped the work Iwas doing and got up and paced the room,pausing now and again to gaze out of the window at the wet roofs and the grey skies.I was aghast at the idea of her going to Ham now even though he were hurt badly hurt;and yet I tried to think it was natural,that it was fine of her to respond to such a call.And she couldn't very well refuse his summons.But it was not the news of her husband's accident that inspired the greater fear,which was quelled and soothed only to rise again when I recalled the note I had heard in her voice,a note eloquent of tragedy--of tragedy she had foreseen.At length,unable to remain where I was any longer,Idescended to the street and walked uptown in the rain.The Durrett house was closed,the blinds of its many windows drawn,but Nancy was watching for me and opened the door.So used had I grown to seeing her in the simple linen dresses she had worn in the country,a costume associated with exclusive possession,that the sight of her travelling suit and hat renewed in me an agony of apprehension.The unforeseen event seemed to have transformed her once more.Her veil was drawn up,her face was pale,in her eyes were traces of tears.
"You're going?"I asked,as I took her hands.
"Hugh,I have to go."
She led me through the dark,shrouded drawing room into the little salon where the windows were open on the silent city-garden.I took her in my arms;she did not resist,as I half expected,but clung to me with what seemed desperation.
"I have to go,dear--you won't make it too hard for me!It's only--ordinary decency,and there's no one else to go to him."She drew me to the sofa,her eyes beseeching me.
"Listen,dear,I want you to see it as I see it.I know that you will,that you do.I should never be able to forgive myself if I stayed away now,I--neither of us could ever be happy about it.You do see,don't you?"she implored.
"Yes,"I admitted agitatedly.
Her grasp on my hand tightened.
"I knew you would.But it makes me happier to hear you say it."We sat for a moment in helpless silence,gazing at one another.Slowly her eyes had filled.
"Have you heard anything more?"I managed to ask.
She drew a telegram from her bag,as though the movement were a relief.
"This is from the doctor in Boston--his name is Magruder.They have got Ham there,it seems.A horse kicked him in the head,after he fell,--he had just recovered consciousness."I took the telegram.The wordy seemed meaningless,all save those of the last sentence."The situation is serious,but by no means hopeless."Nancy had not spoken of that.The ignorant cruelty of its convention!
The man must have known what Hambleton Durrett was!Nancy read my thoughts,and took the paper from my hand.
"Hugh,dear,if it's hard for you,try to understand that it's terrible for me to think that he has any claim at all.I realize now,as I never did before,how wicked it was in me to marry him.I hate him,I can't bear the thought of going near him."She fell into wild weeping.I tried to comfort her,who could not comfort myself;I don't remember my inadequate words.We were overwhelmed,obliterated by the sense of calamity....It was she who checked herself at last by an effort that was almost hysterical.
"I mustn't yield to it!"she said."It's time to leave and the train goes at six.No,you mustn't come to the station,Hugh--I don't think Icould stand it.I'll send you a telegram."She rose."You must go now --you must.""You'll come back to me?"I demanded thickly,as I held her.
"Hugh,I am yours,now and always.How can you doubt it?"At last I released her,when she had begged me again.And I found myself a little later walking past the familiar,empty houses of those streets....
