DOI article:
Watson, H. B. Marriott: The dead wall
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27805#0251
By H. B. Marriott Watson 247
She looked at him, and then turned her ear to the door again,
listening with a white face. He watched her anxiously, but in his
own mind the reason of her perturbation was clear. The thought
was sweet to him.
“ Well,” said he ; “and now to business.”
“Business !” she echoed, and moved quickly to him, “I-
Please, you must excuse me, Lord Hambleton. My husband is
ill. Do you mind ? I-”
He rose abruptly. “ I am very sorry,” he said ; “ I will not
trouble you, then, just now.”
He took his hat. She had turned away and was hearkening with
all her senses for that report that did not come. He bit his lips.
Perhaps she had been overstrained. He could scarce say what
feeling ran uppermost in his mind. She hurried him to the door,
accompanying him herself.
“ Must you go ? ” she asked, stupidly, on the doorstep.
He looked at her ; perhaps she really was ill. But she was very
beautiful. She did not hear his answer. The rough wind blew
through the open door and scattered her hair and her skirts. Lord
Hambleton went down the steps. She watched him go. At that
moment, somehow, a great revulsion overwhelmed her. She had
listened, and there had been no discharge. What a fool she had
been ! Of course, he had no courage. She had the desire to rush
after Lord Hambleton and call him back. She had tortured herself
idly; she had played a silly part in a melodrama. She recalled
Lord Hambleton’s ardent gaze. There was a man ! Ah, if this
thing were not fastened about her neck ! She stole back along
the hall—furious. Once more she was confronted with the squalor
of her position. Her indignation rose higher ; she could see that
pitiful creature crying for mercy, crying for affection. Bah !
He was too cowardly to die. Burning with the old anger, she
crossed
She looked at him, and then turned her ear to the door again,
listening with a white face. He watched her anxiously, but in his
own mind the reason of her perturbation was clear. The thought
was sweet to him.
“ Well,” said he ; “and now to business.”
“Business !” she echoed, and moved quickly to him, “I-
Please, you must excuse me, Lord Hambleton. My husband is
ill. Do you mind ? I-”
He rose abruptly. “ I am very sorry,” he said ; “ I will not
trouble you, then, just now.”
He took his hat. She had turned away and was hearkening with
all her senses for that report that did not come. He bit his lips.
Perhaps she had been overstrained. He could scarce say what
feeling ran uppermost in his mind. She hurried him to the door,
accompanying him herself.
“ Must you go ? ” she asked, stupidly, on the doorstep.
He looked at her ; perhaps she really was ill. But she was very
beautiful. She did not hear his answer. The rough wind blew
through the open door and scattered her hair and her skirts. Lord
Hambleton went down the steps. She watched him go. At that
moment, somehow, a great revulsion overwhelmed her. She had
listened, and there had been no discharge. What a fool she had
been ! Of course, he had no courage. She had the desire to rush
after Lord Hambleton and call him back. She had tortured herself
idly; she had played a silly part in a melodrama. She recalled
Lord Hambleton’s ardent gaze. There was a man ! Ah, if this
thing were not fastened about her neck ! She stole back along
the hall—furious. Once more she was confronted with the squalor
of her position. Her indignation rose higher ; she could see that
pitiful creature crying for mercy, crying for affection. Bah !
He was too cowardly to die. Burning with the old anger, she
crossed