A lady and her husband

by Amber Reeves Blanco White

James turned back to her. His face expressed nothing now but surprise. "Look like what? I don't understand you, my dear." Then he got up from the sofa and walked across to the window. "They've got a fine day for their wedding-day," he added.

As he left her Mary's bodily strength seemed to go with him. She sank backwards against her cushions trembling. "Don't speak! don't speak!" she whispered to herself, but she had lost control over the forces of her mind. Fear, too strong for her, spoke through her lips. She called him, "James!"

James swung round sharply at the unfamiliar ring of her voice. "My dear, what is the matter? I——"

She interrupted him. "If I ask you a question, will you tell me the truth?"

James came back to the sofa and stood beside it, strong and authoritative. "Listen to me," he said, "you are working yourself up, about nothing at all, into a state of hysteria. You must remember that in another hour your guests will be here. Shut your eyes and try to calm yourself. I am not going to answer any questions at all."

But Mary still stared at him, his words had not reached her. "James," she said, "you must tell me! Have you ever been unfaithful to me?"

Her question, though he had been expecting it, came to James as a shock. But he answered her steadily, "I have never loved anyone but you."

Mary clasped her hands. "No," she said, "I don't— James, you haven't answered my question!"

James, standing by her, thought rapidly. He had been a fool to give any answer at all. He had not meant to, but the words had come to his lips, and for an instant he had thought they would fulfil his purpose. Now he must tell her a lie. But he knew in his heart that a lie would be no use—his folly had answered her. He looked at Mary. Her terrified eyes, wide open, were searching his face. After all, she had a right to ask her question—he turned away from her without speaking.

Then it was true—Mary pressed her hands over her mouth as if she were preventing herself from screaming. For a moment her mind seemed a mere confusion of struggling passions, then, from life-long habit, she made an effort to command it. "I must be brave," she told herself, "and just—it must not be more dreadful than it need——"