He had forgotten he was going home for this night. The chill wetness of

his little white garden-gate reminded him, and a frown came on his face.

As he closed the door, and found himself in the darkness of the hall,

the sense of his fatigue came fully upon him. It was an effort to go to

bed. Nevertheless, he went very quietly into the drawing-room. There the

moonlight entered, and he thought the whiteness was Helena. He held his

breath and stiffened, then breathed again. 'Tomorrow,' he thought, as he

laid his violin-case across the arms of a wicker chair. But he had a

physical feeling of the presence of Helena: in his shoulders he seemed

to be aware of her. Quickly, half lifting his arms, he turned to the

Advertisement..

moonshine. 'Tomorrow!' he exclaimed quietly; and he left the room

stealthily, for fear of disturbing the children.

In the darkness of the kitchen burned a blue bud of light. He quickly

turned up the gas to a broad yellow flame, and sat down at table. He was

tired, excited, and vexed with misgiving. As he lay in his arm-chair, he

looked round with disgust.

The table was spread with a dirty cloth that had great brown stains

betokening children. In front of him was a cup and saucer, and a small

plate with a knife laid across it. The cheese, on another plate, was

wrapped in a red-bordered, fringed cloth, to keep off the flies, which

even then were crawling round, on the sugar, on the loaf, on the

cocoa-tin. Siegmund looked at his cup. It was chipped, and a stain had

gone under the glaze, so that it looked like the mark of a dirty mouth.

He fetched a glass of water.

The room was drab and dreary. The oil-cloth was worn into a hole near

the door. Boots and shoes of various sizes were scattered over the

floor, while the sofa was littered with children's clothing. In the

black stove the ash lay dead; on the range were chips of wood, and

newspapers, and rubbish of papers, and crusts of bread, and crusts of

bread-and-jam. As Siegmund walked across the floor, he crushed two

sweets underfoot. He had to grope under sofa and dresser to find his

slippers; and he was in evening dress.

It would be the same, while ever Beatrice was Beatrice and Siegmund her

husband. He ate his bread and cheese mechanically, wondering why he was

miserable, why he was not looking forward with joy to the morrow. As he

ate, he closed his eyes, half wishing he had not promised Helena, half

wishing he had no tomorrow.




Most Popular