“You would, too, if you were twenty-five years younger,” said Bella, leaning over to pat her mother’s arm affectionately. “Anyway, I prove my sympathy with Delia by bringing to her all the stray crumbs of comfort I can find. I haven’t told her yet—I’m waiting for her fit of introspection to reach the acute stage—but the grocer has got a new delivery boy, a nice young man, good-looking and polite. I wish somebody would be that kind to me!” she laughed, with a whimsical pout of her pretty lips. “Harry, if Mr. Brand says anything to you today about coming over here in his motor-car—” Henrietta looked up with a disapproving lift of her eyebrows and saw a sparkle of defiant mischief dancing in her sister’s blue eyes—“just tell him, please,” Bella proceeded with a toss of her head, “that my physician has ordered me to take an auto ride today as the only means of saving my life!”
It was mid-April and the very air thrilled with the hurry and promise of the spring that was making ready to leap at a single bound—would it be tomorrow, in three days, next week?—from swelling bud and bronzing tree into full flower and leafage. As Henrietta hastened down the street beneath budding trees busy at their yearly miracle and past little green lawns with their beds of crocuses and snowdrops and tulips, the splendid caressing sunshine bathed her in its gaiety, the smell of freshly turned earth challenged her to buoyant mood and the singing and fluttering and twittering of birds called her to equal delight in the radiant season. But all was not well with her world and she was more conscious of the anxiety in her heart than of the call of the spring that was storming at her senses.
True, she could begin to look forward now with reasonable surety, she told herself, to the last payment, in a very few months, upon their cottage with its little lawn and garden, and that would make sure, whatever might happen, a home for her mother. Bella would probably marry within a year the young physician to whom she had been engaged so long. They had waited for his graduation from the medical school of Harvard and now he wanted to be sure of a good enough practice to feel warranted in marrying. The delay had been necessary, too, on Bella’s part, for her help in the care of their mother had been indispensable. But their improving financial prospects had acted like a magic draught upon Mrs. Marne and now, as she felt more and more assured of Henrietta’s ability and success, she was rapidly growing so much better and stronger that she would soon be able to take care of their housekeeping and leave Bella free to marry as soon as her fiancé could offer her a home.
But Henrietta was so anxious about other things that these untangling perplexities gave her small comfort. Her sisterly caution told her it was not prudent for Isabella to go so frequently with Felix Brand in his automobile. Twice since Brand’s return from his last absence had she found, when she reached home at the end of the day, that Bella had just returned from a long drive, wherein Brand’s machine had apparently torn to tatters all speed laws and appeared to onlookers as a mere streak of color. After such a trip Bella’s heightened spirits, Henrietta thought, made her very lovely and bewitching, with the flush in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes and her merry talk.
“She’s young and gay-spirited and has so few pleasures,” Henrietta thought, regardless of the fact that she herself was younger and had just as few, “that I feel awfully mean to object to anything that seems so innocent. But it is reckless of him to go so fast, and this accident last night—oh, I’m afraid it’s dangerous. And then there’s Mildred—if he was engaged to anybody else I shouldn’t think anything about that; but—well, mother thinks it’s all right and lovely of him to give Bella a little outing now and then; and if it wasn’t I suppose he wouldn’t do it.”
But on this last point Henrietta was not without uneasiness. For little rifts were beginning to appear in that perfect confidence she had felt until recently in her employer. She had thought him the soul of uprightness and honor, but in his business affairs, nearly all of which passed through her hands, she knew that he had begun to make use of the barest falsehoods and to practice evasions and tricks that made her blush with shame to be the medium by which they were transmitted to paper.
Simple, sturdy forthrightness being the backbone of Henrietta’s character, she could not help feeling as if she were an accomplice in his shiftiness and untruths when she typed and mailed his letters. She told herself that it was none of her affair, that she was no more than a machine in the work she did for him and that to look after her own morals was all that was incumbent upon her. Nevertheless, she was a good deal disturbed about it on this bright morning.
“He seems so different from what he was a few months ago,” she thought with a sigh. “I don’t understand why he should change so. I almost begin to feel like trying to find another situation. But I mustn’t think about it now, for I can’t afford yet to take any risks.”
Her thoughts turned to another phase of Brand’s character upon which also she was beginning to have doubts. She did not see many people, but a few bits of talk had reached her ears which made her wonder if the man whose character she had believed to be almost ideally fine and noble were not after all a devotee of sinister pleasures. She had begun to feel conscious, after his last return, of a feeling toward him of physical repulsion and this she knew was growing upon her. As she recalled these things her thoughts flashed uneasily back to her sister. She felt wretchedly ignorant and uncertain as to what she ought to do and wished there were some one better versed in worldly knowledge than herself to whom she could go for advice.
“I can’t talk it over with mother,” she thought, “because it would make her worry about it and about me, and I don’t like to go to Dr. Annister, because he has enough troubles to listen to, with all those half-crazy patients of his, and Mrs. Annister admires Mr. Brand so much that she’d be offended by any suggestion that he isn’t all right and—well, I don’t think she’s very level-headed anyway. I wish I could see Mr. Gordon again—it seems a long time. But I ought not to tell him anything about these things even if I should see him, since there seems to be so much feeling between him and Mr. Brand.