XXVI The Light Within
I
A little while before the expressman called for the trunks, Judith went for the last time through the wicket gate. She and Eileen had been packing all day, and she was weary to the verge of collapse. Theodora had hovered over her ever since she came from school, up in the attic where winter garments must be looked over, down in the pantry and cellar, where the Duttons were receiving orders for the temporary closing of Vine Cottage. Through it all she had been silent and unobtrusive, her face wearing an expression that well-nigh broke the heart of the woman who loved her. Only once did she offer speech:
“I guess it’s better for my mamma to get natural again—because—the other way she couldn’t have lived.”
The remedy that would work such magic once ought to be efficacious again. Lavinia’s altered attitude towards her husband was, beyond peradventure, the result of her visit in Bromfield. When Judith found opportunity, she asked:
“Do you think you will be coming to New York this fall? There will always be a guest room for you and father.”
“David can’t get away before spring, with the Marksley contract crowding him to the wall, and Larimore gone all the time. If he had any system about him, he wouldn’t let things crowd him that way. If I was a contractor—”
“Then, perhaps you will come alone, and stop off at Bromfield on the way home. Your visit there in July certainly gave you great benefit.”
“How much benefit—no one will ever know!” The black eyes snapped. “It almost paid for all that has happened since. To see some one that you thought was rich and prosperous—and find out that they have actually less than you have—” She stopped, and the even white teeth clicked. “I mean my brother Ted.” In crimson confusion she hurried to the window, where she stood dumbly contemplating the street. When she turned, it was to abuse Eileen so extravagantly that she became aware of the blunder she was making.