DOI article:
Hickson Murray, Mabel: Two Studies: at the cross roods ; a vigil
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.21806#0119
By Mrs. Murray Hickson 115
her more inarticulate. She had suffered and been still ; now, her
faculties sharpened by suspense, she endured all the accumulated
pain of the last two years fused and mingled with the fancies, fear,
and loneliness of the moment.
Sometimes she paced the room ; sometimes, at the sound of a
chance footstep or the rising of the wind, she opened the hall door
and stared out into the night. Once she went upstairs to wake
the servants, but, recollecting herseif, came back and dropped once
more into the big chair by the fire.
With the self-torture of a high-strung brain she could formulate
no explanations save the worst, until, as the hours wore on, mental
torment brought with it the consequent relief of numbness.
When he came into the drawing-room the following evening
she rose from her seat and welcomed him as usual. Her face was
drawn and white, but her voice did not falter, and her eyes met
his unflinchingly.
He stood upon the hearth-rug before the fire, talking for a few
moments carelessly, tili a strained silence feil between them. He
took out his watch and glanced at it, then, turning restlessly,
pushed the blazing logs together with his foot.
“ You got my letter ? I was sorry not to be home last night.
I’m afraid, little woman, that you waited dinner for me, but it was
too late to send you a telegram.”
“ Yes, your letter came this morning,” she said, apathetically.
The reaction from last night’s tension had brought with it a stränge
indifference. She feit that his presence meant nothing to her now,
that his absence would have meant even less. Her heart was frozen.
Active pain would have been better than this paralysis, and she
longed to feel, but could not do so. He faced her once more ; his
glance met hers uneasily.
“ You
her more inarticulate. She had suffered and been still ; now, her
faculties sharpened by suspense, she endured all the accumulated
pain of the last two years fused and mingled with the fancies, fear,
and loneliness of the moment.
Sometimes she paced the room ; sometimes, at the sound of a
chance footstep or the rising of the wind, she opened the hall door
and stared out into the night. Once she went upstairs to wake
the servants, but, recollecting herseif, came back and dropped once
more into the big chair by the fire.
With the self-torture of a high-strung brain she could formulate
no explanations save the worst, until, as the hours wore on, mental
torment brought with it the consequent relief of numbness.
When he came into the drawing-room the following evening
she rose from her seat and welcomed him as usual. Her face was
drawn and white, but her voice did not falter, and her eyes met
his unflinchingly.
He stood upon the hearth-rug before the fire, talking for a few
moments carelessly, tili a strained silence feil between them. He
took out his watch and glanced at it, then, turning restlessly,
pushed the blazing logs together with his foot.
“ You got my letter ? I was sorry not to be home last night.
I’m afraid, little woman, that you waited dinner for me, but it was
too late to send you a telegram.”
“ Yes, your letter came this morning,” she said, apathetically.
The reaction from last night’s tension had brought with it a stränge
indifference. She feit that his presence meant nothing to her now,
that his absence would have meant even less. Her heart was frozen.
Active pain would have been better than this paralysis, and she
longed to feel, but could not do so. He faced her once more ; his
glance met hers uneasily.
“ You