"Yes, dear. I think I know more than you. I think I know how you have been feeling lately, and all the winter. But I did not know it was as bad as this, and when I read that letter—do you know how I felt? I think I must tell you, Digby; I have had something to bear too, you know. I felt first that something terrible had come between you and me, something that wanted pushing away with all my might; and I couldn't do it alone, Digby, and you—you were not there to help me. And then—I only felt sorry for you. I have just longed for you to come back that I might put my arms round you and comfort you, and tell you that I knew. Digby, don't turn away like that."
"But—it is inconceivable—do you know what you are saying? Do you know that if that letter had not been written, I should have—?" He paused, for he could not bring himself to finish the sentence. But she sprang away from him suddenly, and stood in front of him in the middle of the room, with her hands clasped at the back of her head, and a blaze of triumph in her eyes.
"No, no, not that!" she cried; "never that! I knew it could not be. If I had thought you capable of that, should I be speaking to you now like this? Do you think women are such fools then? I know, she knew—that you were not capable of it, that you never meant it, that it was one of your queer impulses that make me love you so madly, and that she can never forgive in you. That is why she wrote you that letter. That is why you are mine now, mine, mine, mine!"
The musician fell in love more thoroughly that afternoon than he had ever fallen in love before.
He fell in love with his own wife.
"We must have Joan up to stay with us; she could write nicely at the table in the dining-room, couldn't she?" said Norah, when they began to talk rationally again. They felt wonderfully fond of Joan this evening.
"Oh, do you think so? I fancy she'll be all right down at Relton for the present," he answered. He was feeling that he could do with his wife for a good long time now.
"It's just as you like, dear. And do you know, baby is so wonderfully good now she has nearly all her teeth, that I believe you would find the study quiet enough to write music in. It has been very uncomfortable for you lately, hasn't it?" said she.
"Oh, it's been all right. And I don't think I want to write music much. I say, do you think baby will take to me now?" said he.
Then she laughed, and he demanded the reason of her merriment.