She was filled with wonder and amazement. Could such misery be real? He was going South with Professor Mayne! He could have no other reason than his own pleasure. If he had stayed at home, Fetzer would have stayed also—she knew Fetzer's plans. He didn't care; she was nothing to him but a poor creature who needed help.
Hearing the sound of men's voices, she realized that it was foolish to sit here alone, when at any moment a company of students might take a short cut across the hill. She longed for the shelter of her room, for her smooth pillow—the sky and the stars and the cold air offered no balm. Perhaps in her room she could think this out, could find some ray of comfort, could remember some detail of their association upon which she could once more build happiness. She rose and went rapidly down the walk and across the brook.
Once in her room, she did not go to bed, but sat down by the window and looked out at the dim campus. Her pain, dulled for a few moments, returned. He was going away, she should not see him! She put her hand to her side, to soothe actual, physical distress.
Presently, as if to ascertain whether this agony had put a visible mark upon her, she turned on the light and examined herself in her mirror curiously and with humility. She was not thinking of her appearance; she was asking herself a question. Then she lifted her head with a splendid defiance to resist the fire of amazement and resentment which ran through her. The resentment was not against Stephen, still less was it against herself; it was against life.
"I haven't done any wrong," said Ellen aloud. "It isn't my fault."
At once, moving deliberately, she undressed. She counted the strokes of the brush on her thick hair, she hung up her clothes with painstaking, she laid out fresh clothes for the next morning. But once in bed, she could not sleep; a faint recollection disturbed her, a vague incident connected with this hour, promising in the most tantalizing way an interpretation if she could but read it aright.
Later in the night she dreamed. She seemed to see Millie, a little, weazened creature who pointed at her and chattered, rat-like, about the pursuit of Brother Reith and the unlawful pleasures which he allowed himself in the absence of his wife.