On the next morning Lord Harry left the cottage, accompanied by the
doctor.
After a long absence, he returned alone. His wife's worst
apprehensions, roused by what Fanny had told her, were more than
justified, by the change which she now perceived in him. His eyes were
bloodshot, his face was haggard, his movements were feeble and slow. He
looked like a man exhausted by some internal conflict, which had
vibrated between the extremes of anger and alarm. "I'm tired to death,"
he said; "get me a glass of wine."
She waited on him with eager obedience, and watched anxiously for the
reviving effect of the stimulant.
The little irritabilities which degrade humanity only prolong their
mischievous existence, while the surface of life stagnates in calm.
Their annihilation follows when strong emotion stirs in the depths, and
raises the storm. The estrangement of the day before passed as
completely from the minds of the husband and wife--both strongly
agitated--as if it had never existed. All-mastering fear was busy at
their hearts; fear, in the woman, of the unknown temptation which had
tried the man; fear, in the man, of the tell-tale disturbance in him,
which might excite the woman's suspicion. Without venturing to look at
him, Iris said: "I am afraid you have heard bad news?" Without
venturing to look at her, Lord Harry answered: "Yes, at the newspaper
office." She knew that he was deceiving her; and he felt that she knew
it. For awhile, they were both silent.
From time to time, she anxiously stole a look at him.
His mind remained absorbed in thought. There they were, in the same
room--seated near each other; united by the most intimate of human
relationships--and yet how far, how cruelly far, apart! The slowest of
all laggard minutes, the minutes which are reckoned by suspense,
followed each other tardily and more tardily, before there appeared the
first sign of a change. He lifted his drooping head. Sadly, longingly,
he looked at her. The unerring instinct of true love encouraged his
wife to speak to him.
"I wish I could relieve your anxieties," she said simply. "Is there
nothing I can do to help you?"
"Come here, Iris."
She rose and approached him. In the past days of the honeymoon and its
sweet familiarities, he had sometimes taken her on his knee. He took
her on his knee now, and put his arm round her. "Kiss me," he said.
With all her heart she kissed him. He sighed heavily; his eyes rested
on her with a trustful appealing look which she had never observed in
them before.