Suddenly it seemed to her that some restraining band within her weakened and broke. In imagination she let her eyes devour Stephen, let herself be enfolded by his arms, lifted her lips to his. She uttered a sigh of complete abandonment; she began eagerly to comfort herself with reminders of his gifts to her, his smile upon her, his hand on a memorable occasion lifting her chin. When he had walked with her in New York, he had never let go her arm; when he helped her into his car his clasp lingered. She found herself speaking aloud.
"If I could only see him! I haven't seen him since last summer! If I only knew that he didn't despise me, that he thought of me, I shouldn't care for anything else. Then I could work once more. If I could only see him! Others can, and I would give my life for him!"
She heard dimly the cheering of a multitude. It must be that the race was won; the visitors could produce no such volume of sound. But her victory was not won! She rose and went down the hill to the road, her shoulders bent. Her childhood had been ended by her father's death, and now her youth was ended by this misfortune. She remembered, alas, a word of Amos's—"burn with sinful passion"—and she was filled with shame.
She crossed the deserted campus to the library, walking aimlessly, and descended to the cool corridor leading to the Seminar room. The door was open and she could see Miss Grammer at work within. Unheard, she stood looking at her curiously, almost as though Miss Grammer were dead. So that was what was left for one, that was what one became!
CHAPTER XXXIV
A DARK TOWER
When Stephen returned from his excursion with Professor Mayne, Miss MacVane had installed a young woman in his office and had herself taken charge of his house, filling her new position with Fetzer's devotion.
He had given no directions for Ellen's letters to follow him and when he read them on his return he discovered with selfish pleasure that she had missed a week. So she couldn't write, poor child! A pretty dreary time she must have had with Miss Grammer! So had he with Mayne. He longed to tease Ellen until her eyes filled with tears and then to brighten them again. He had changed his Christmas plans neither out of respect to Fetzer's opinion, nor because he wished to avoid encouraging Ellen's affection, but because of the sharp eyes of the other women in his house, and because he believed his deliverance was at hand. Hilda was worse, and her malady was likely to take henceforth a more rapid course.
Ellen's mid-year examinations were successfully passed and he proudly showed her report card to Miss MacVane, who looked at him keenly and enigmatically from behind her thick glasses, but kept her thoughts to herself. Ellen and Miss Grammer had been invited by Professor Anderson to the box of his fraternity at the Junior Promenade, and Ellen had danced. Did Ellen dance? His heart sank. Professor Anderson was an old man—she must have had a more agile partner. She went to the theater—she did not say with whom. She won election to Phi Beta Kappa, and his eyes sparkled.