She had had much to give him; and she had given it. She had helped him over his hard road—a road which, without her, he might have found too steep and narrow. Now she had come to the end.
How did she know—she broke in passionately upon her reason—that if he wanted her, he no longer needed her? But something deeper than reason, deeper than passion, assured her of the dreary truth. The very years sundered them, and each succeeding year would widen the breach. She, in her prime, in the full power of her faculties and charm—ten years would find her old, years that would leave him young. After—what was there after that?
If she could do no more, if she loved him, must she let him go? That was the bitterest! To step out of the way. To make herself forgotten!
When she rose the east shone palely bright through her windows. She turned out the sickly lights, thrust back the curtains, and let the sharp, merciless morning fill the room.
Seeing her reflection in the mirror, she seemed to face her actual self. Her cheeks were white, the shadows under her eyes bluish; from nostril to mouth the lines were long and hard. But it was easier to look this self in the face than the other of the night before. Here there was nothing hidden, no unknown horror at her back, no shadow to engulf her. Everything was clearly defined. Now that she was in the midst of the shadow, it was less black than gray; but she wondered whether fire would not have been a relief from that interminably dreary hue that infinitely surrounded her.
CHAPTER VI
THAIR PUTS IN HIS FINGER; CISSY HER FOOT
THAIR, lounging down to breakfast the morning after the dance, found Cissy Fitz Hugh alone over a demoralized table. She gave him a nod that was cousinly in its curtness, shoved the muffins a little way toward him, and relapsed into an unwonted obliviousness. Reminiscently smiling, Thair watched her a moment before baiting her gently.
“My good Cicely, you’re not very fit this morning,” he presently brought out with family frankness.
She twitched the ruffles of her morning-gown, drew a plump hand up the sweep of her back hair, and launched at him: