When Mary went home from Claxton, Walter didn't meet her at the station, as she expected; and when she got home, he wasn't there. The little maid that they kept to help, and to set Mary free for dressmaking, told her he'd had to go off somewhere, directly after dinner; she didn't know where, only he said it was business, and he'd be back as soon as possible. It was a half-holiday at the school, so he was able to get away.
Mary had all the afternoon and evening alone: for he never turned up till quite late, somewhere about eleven o'clock. When he got in he was vexed to find Mary sitting up still. "It was absurd," he said, "after her illness!" and he would only talk of that, but wouldn't tell her where he had been. "Just a matter of business," he said. "What did women know of business?"
If Mary had not been so worried, she must have smiled; for she had twice as good a business-head as he. But she was in no smiling mood. She knew too well that secrecy on his part meant mischief.
As Walter had told me, Mary always kept a sharp look-out over the money that came into the house, more especially school-money. She told mother and me this, telling too her reason frankly, though with shame. She seemed bent on hiding nothing. When they first went to Littleburgh, she had left things more in Walter's hands; but very soon she had found it would not do. He never could keep from spending what he had in hand; and he never cared to look forward beyond the present moment.
"Not that he means to be dishonest," she said. "Walter never means to do wrong; but he is so easily bent. There is no strength of will. Sometimes I think weakness is the worst of evils, it leads to so much wrong-doing."
Then she told us how she had set going a cashbox for every penny that wasn't strictly their own, but would have to be accounted for; and every week she went into accounts with him, and paid the right amount into this box, keeping the key herself.
Before he went back to Littleburgh, leaving her ill in our house, she made him promise to go on with the same plan. Walter gave his word easily enough; and he broke it as easily. While she was away, and he was free, he spent every penny that came to him.
Then the day was fixed for Mary's return.
Up to that moment he had not troubled himself, never looking forward; but the news of Mary's coming sent him half desperate. He hadn't the courage to face her displeasure. Before Mary he was a coward. I don't think I wonder—now! There was something in those honest eyes of hers which might well make him shrink; and she had the mastery over him too, of a strong over a weak nature. I didn't believe him to be weak then; at least, I wouldn't let myself allow that he was; but one's sight gets clearer as one goes on.
Well, as I say, Walter was in despair. There was the money short; and Mary would go into the matter straight, and every penny would have to be accounted for to her. If not to her, it would have to be accounted for to others, only a few weeks later. But Walter never looked far ahead, Mary said, speaking of this. He lived just in the present, and put off anxieties, and always expected everything to come straight somehow.