How could she refrain from telling her mother? She felt suddenly weak and powerless. O God, good God, her heart cried, only make him well!
The sound of the library door closing made her spring to her feet; her mother stood regarding her.
“What is it, Ruth?” she asked.
“Nothing,” she cried, her voice breaking despite her effort to be calm,—“nothing at all. Louis has just sent me word that he had to leave town this evening, and says not to wait dinner for him.”
“That is very strange,” mused her mother, moving slowly toward her and holding out her hand for the note; but Ruth thrust the papers into her pocket.
“It is to me, Mamma; you do not care for second-hand love-letters, do you?” she asked, assuming a desperate gayety. “There is nothing strange about it; he often leaves like this.”
“Not in such weather and not after—— There won’t be a man in the house to-night. I wish your father were home; he would not like it if he knew.” She shivered slightly as they went into the dining-room.
Chapter XXIII
The next day passed like a nightmare. To add to the misery of her secret, her mother began to fidget over the continued lack of any communication from her husband. Had the weather been fair, Ruth would have insisted on her going out with her; but to the rain of the day before was added a heavy windstorm that made any unnecessary expedition from home absurd.