"I will try to be—content," I told him.
His eyes hardened, grew keen and cold again.
"Thank you," he said, not quite sincerely.
We were silent a moment, until Silas came in to get the orders for the following day. I hardly heard the voices, talking so near me. It mattered so little what they, or anyone, said. I thought of Green Hill, of Peter asleep near me.... I thought of father, in his big woods, his old strength coming back to him ... and I thought of the letter that had reached me on my wedding day ... my first love letter. I had not answered it. For me, no "lyric hour" could exist. No, nor not even the dream of one. Uncle John, I thought, would have told Richard Warren by now that I was married. Mrs. William Denton....
My thoughts blurred into a half-dream. I was on a ship. Somewhere Mercedes Howell was standing. I heard her calling from far off, "Billy, Billy!"
I awoke suddenly. Silas had gone and my husband was standing near me,
"You called me, Mavis," he was saying.
I looked at him, at the great, strange room, confused and half asleep.
"I was dreaming," I said, and then, "a nightmare."
"Oh, I see!" he laughed a little. "You look like a child," he said slowly, "with the firelight on your yellow hair and that flush in your cheeks."