the dust-第68章

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child　and　he　knew　the　probable　reason　for　it。　　Norman　seemed　not　to　have　heard　or　seen。　Tetlow　hoped　he　hadn't；　but；　knowing　the　man；　feared　otherwise。　　And　he　was　right。

In　the　press　of　other　matters　Norman　forgot　Tetlow's　remarkremembered　it　again　a　few　days　later　when　he　was　taking　the　baby　out　for　an　airing　in　the　motorforgot　it　againfinally；　when　he　took　a　several　days'　rest　at　home；　remembered　it　and　kept　it　in　mind。　He　began　to　think　of　Dorothy　once　more　in　a　definite；　personal　way；　began　to　observe　her　as　his　wife；　instead　of　as　mere　part　of　his　establishment。　　An　intellectual　person　she　certainly　was　not。　　She　had　a　quaint　individual　way　of　speaking　and　of　acting。　　She　had　the　marvelous　changeable　beauty　that　had　once　caused　him　to　take　the　bit　in　his　teeth　and　run　wild。　　But　he　would　no　more　think　of　talking　with　her　about　the　affairs　that　really　interested　him　thanwell；　than　the　other　men　of　large　career　in　his　acquaintance　would　think　of　talking　those　matters　to　their　wives。

But　　He　was　astonished　to　discover　that　he　liked　this　slim；　quiet；　unobtrusive　little　wife　of　his　better　than　he　liked　anyone　else　in　the　world；　that　he　eagerly　turned　away　from　the　clever　and　amusing　companionship　he　might　have　at　his　clubs　to　come　down　to　the　country　and　be　with　her　and　the　babynot　the　baby　alone；　but　her　also。　　Why？　　He　could　not　find　a　satisfactory　reason。　He　saw　that　she　created　at　that　Hempstead　place　an　atmosphere　of　rest；　of　tranquility。　　But　this　merely　thrust　the　mystery　one　step　back。　　HOW　did　she　create　this　atmosphereand　for　a　man　of　his　varied　and　discriminating　tastes？　　To　that　question　he　could　work　out　no　answer。　　She　had　for　him　now　a　charm　as　different　from　the　infatuation　of　former　days　as　calm　sea　is　from　tempest…racked　seautterly　different；　yet　fully　as　potent。　　As　he　observed　her　and　wondered　at　these　discoveries　of　his；　the　ghost　of　a　delight　he　had　thought　forever　dead　stirred　in　his　heart；　in　his　fancy。　　Yes；　it　was　a　pleasure；　a　thrilling　pleasure　to　watch　her。　There　was　music　in　those　quiet；　graceful　movements　of　hers；　in　that　quiet；　sweet　voice。　　Not　the　wild；　blood…　heating　music　of　the　former　days；　but　a　kind　far　more　melodioustender；　restful　to　nerves　sorely　tried　by　the　tensions　of　ambition。　　He　made　some　sort　of　an　attempt　to　define　his　feeling　for　her；　but　could　not。　　It　seemed　to　fit　into　none　of　the　usual　classifications。

Then；　he　wondered　　〃What　is　SHE　thinking　of　ME？〃

To　find　out　he　resorted　to　various　elaborate　round　about　methods　that　did　credit　to　the　ingenuity　of　his　mind。　　But　he　made　at　every　cunning　cast　a　barren　water…haul。　　Either　she　was　not　thinking　of　him　at　all　or　what　she　thought　swam　too　deep　for　any　casts　he　knew　how　to　make　in　those　hidden　and　unfamiliar　waters。　　Or；　perhaps　she　did　not　herself　know　what　she　thought；　being　too　busy　with　the　baby　and　the　household　to　have　time　for　such　abstract　and　not　pressing；　perhaps　not　important；　matters。　　He　moved　slowly　in　his　inquiries　into　her　state　of　mind　because　there　was　all　the　time　in　the　world　and　no　occasion　for　haste。　He　moved　cautiously　because　he　wished　to　do　nothing　that　might　disturb　the　present　serenity　of　their　home　life。　　Did　she　dislike　him？　　Was　she　indifferent？　　Had　she　developed　a　habit　of　having　him　about　that　was　in　a　way　equivalent　to　liking？

These　languid　but　delightful　investigationsnot　unlike　the　pastimes　one　spins　out　when　one　has　a　long；　long　lovely　summer　day　with　hours　on　hours　for　luxurious　happy　idlingthese　investigations　were　abruptly　suspended　by　a　suddenly　compelled　trip　to　Europe。　He　arranged　for　Dorothy　to　send　him　a　cable　every　day〃about　yourself　and　the　baby〃and　he　sent　an　occasional　cabled　bulletin　about　himself　in　reply。　　But　neither　wrote　to　the　other；　their　relationship　was　not　of　the　letter…exchanging　kindand　had　no　need　of　pretense　at　what　it　was　not。

In　the　third　month　of　his　absence；　his　sister　Ursula　came　over　for　dresses；　millinery　and　truly　aristocratic　society。　　She　had　little　time　for　him；　or　he　for　her；　but　they　happened　to　lunch　alone　about　a　week　after　his　arrival。

〃You're　looking　cross　and　unhappy；〃　said　she。　〃What's　the　matter？　　Business？〃

〃Noeverything's　going　well。〃

〃Same　thing　that's　troubling　Dorothy；　then？〃

〃Is　Dorothy　ill？〃　inquired　he；　suddenly　as　alert　as　he　had　been　absent。　　〃She　hasn't　let　me　know　anything　about　it。〃

〃Ill？　　Of　course　not；〃　reassured　Ursula。　　〃She's　never　ill。　　ButI've　not　anywhere　or　ever　seen　two　people　as　crazy　about　each　other　as　you　and　she。〃

〃Really？〃　Norman　had　relapsed　into　interest　in　what　he　was　eating。

〃You　live　all　alone　down　there　in　the　country。　You　treat　anyone　who　comes　to　see　you　as　intruder。　And　as　soon　as　darling　husband　goes　away；　darling　wife　wanders　about　like　a　damned　soul。　　Honestly；　it　gave　me　the　blues　to　look　at　her　eyes。　　And　I　used　to　think　she　cared　more　about　the　baby　than　about　you。〃

〃She's　probably　worried　about　something　else；〃　said　Norman。　　〃More　salad？　　No？　　There's　no　dessert　at　least　I've　ordered　none。　　But　if　you'd　like　some　strawberries〃

〃I　thought　of　that；〃　replied　Ursula；　not　to　be　deflected。　　〃I　mean　of　her　being　upset　about　something　beside　you。　　I'm　slow　to　suspect　anyone　of　really　caring　about　any　ONE　else。　　But；　although　she　didn't　confess；　I　soon　saw　that　it　was　your　absence。　　And　she　wasn't　putting　on　for　my　benefit；　either。　　My　maid　hears　the　same　thing　from　all　the　servants。〃

〃This　is　pleasant；〃　said　Norman　in　his　mocking　good…humored　way。

〃And　you're　in　the　same　state；〃　she　charged　with　laughing　but　sympathetic　eyes。　　〃Why；　Fred；　you're　as　madly　in　love　with　her　as　ever。〃

〃I　wonder；〃　said　he　reflectively。

〃Why　didn't　you　bring　her　with　you？〃

He　stared　at　his　sister　like　a　man　who　has　just　discovered　that　he；　with　incredible　stupidity；　had　over…　looked　the　obvious。　　〃I　didn't　think　I'd　be　away　long；〃

evaded　he。

He　saw　Ursula　off　for　the　Continent；　half　promised　to　join　her　in　a　few　weeks　at　Aix。　　A　day　or　so　after　her　departure　he　had　a　violent　fit　of　blues；　was　haunted　by　a　vision　of　the　baby　and　the　comfortable；　peaceful　house　on　Long　Island。　　He　had　expected　to　stay　about　two　months　longer。　　〃I'm　sick　of　England　and　of　hotels；〃　he　said；　and　closed　up　his　business　and　sailed　the　following　week。


She　and　the　baby　were　at　the　pier　to　meet　him。　　He　looked　for　signs　of　the　mourning　Ursula　had　described；　but　he　looked　in　vain。　　Never　had　he　seen　her　lovelier；　or　so　sparkling。　　And　how　she　did　talk！rattling　on　and　on；　with　those　interesting　commonplaces　of　domestic　eventthe　baby；　the　household；　the　garden；　the　baby　the　horses；　the　dogs；　the　babythe　servants；　her　new　dresses；　the　babyand　so　on；　and　so　onand　the　baby。

But　when　they　got　into　the　motor　at　Hempstead　station　for　the　drive　home；　silence　fell　upon　herhe　had　been　almost　silent　from　the　start　of　the　little　journey。　　As　the　motor　swung　into　the　grounds；　looking　their　most　beautiful　for　his　homecoming；　an　enormous　wave　of　pure　delight　began　to　surge　up　in　him；　to　swell；　to　rush；　to　break；　dashing　its　spray　of　tears　into　his　eyes。　　He　turned　his　head　away　to　hide　the　too　obvious　display　of　feeling。　　They　went　into　the　house；　he　carrying　the　baby。　　He　gave　it　to　the　nurseand　he　and　she　were　alone。

〃It　certainly　is　good　to　be　home　again；〃　he　said。

The　words　were　the　tamest　commonplace。　　We　always　speak　in　the　old　stereotyped　commonplaces　when　we　speak　directly　from　the　heart。　　His　tone　made　her　glance　quickly　at　him。

〃Why；　I　believe　you　ARE　glad；〃　said　she。

He　took　her　hand。　　They　looked　at　each　other。　Suddenly　she　flung　herself　wildly　into　his　arms　and　clung　to　him　in　an　agony　of　joy　and　fear。　　〃Oh；　I　missed　you　so！〃　she　sobbed。　　〃I　missed　you　so！〃

〃It　was　frightful；〃　said　he。　　〃It　shall　never　happen　again。〃





The