She stood at the window, looking out blankly into the leaden wetness. It was just after five, and the rain poured. A curious depression settled quickly upon her, which was hardly fully accounted for as "missing Hugo already."... Why? Who upon earth had less cause for depression than she? No girl lived with more all-embracing reasons for being superlatively happy. What, then, was the lack in her?--or was this some lack in the terms of life itself? Was it the mysterious law of the world that nobody, no matter what she had or did, should ever long keep the jewel happiness unspotted by a doubt?
XVII
Cally crosses the Great Gulf; and it isn't quite Clear how she will ever cross back again.
Baffling questions these, even to young philosophers. Dismissing them as foolish, Cally Heth turned from the rain-swept window, designing to rest awhile in her own room, before dressing for a little dinner at Evey McVey's. Forsaken as she felt, she was yet not unconscious of a certain remote desirability in being alone; that is, in having a little time to herself now. It occurred to her that perhaps she and Hugo had been together rather too constantly in these weeks, going forward just a little too fast....
In the hall she encountered her mother, descending the stairs in mackintosh, hat, and veil. Carlisle looked surprised, but mamma's look under the veil was roguishly dolorous, in reference to the recent farewell.
"Why, mamma, where are you going in all the rain?"
Mrs. Heth replied: "What, no tears!... I'm off to the old Dabney House, my dear--the first time in twenty years--"
"Oh!... The Settlement!"
"I promised Mr. Dayne I would go," said the capable little lady, eyeing her daughter expectantly--"it's the organization meeting and election of officers. The man has got together some excellent people for his committee. And, by the way, Cally--"