She shot an indignant glance at the paper behind which he had immediately subsided. "I don't think I'll feel it!"
Astry made no reply and Eva passed out of the long French window on to the piazza, but, instead of descending into the rose garden, which was situated on that side of the house, she made her way slowly across the terrace and through the tennis-court to the road. There she stood a moment considering, her white dress gathered up in both hands.
The road was shady and inviting, but it led directly past Rachel's front door and, although she was going there, she did not want to meet Belhaven. She had tried lately to avoid an encounter, and while she stood there, undecided, she was almost startled by the appearance of the postman, who stopped to hand her a letter. She took it gingerly, but a glance reassured her; it was not Zélie again, but only Pamela. Standing under the shade of a friendly locust, Eva broke the seal and glanced hastily at the careless, fashionable scrawl.
"Dear Eva:—You looked so distressed when I went away that I can't forget it. Don't think of what I said; I don't know anything, and I'm sure Rachel never loved Charter, if she did why marry Belhaven? Don't you see how simple it is? Do take more care of yourself. We're off at seven thirty-five to-morrow, a brutal hour, but I hope it will be cooler. In haste, yours,
"Pamela."
In spite of herself Eva smiled. Her friend's method of solving the problem was so entirely the usual method of people who try to solve the problems of others. Pamela, in an effort to comfort, was only turning the weapon in the wound, as the ignorant sympathizer will tear the heart open by uttering condolences that only strip the horror of all decent covering and accumulate the agony. Pamela's argument only furnished another reason for Eva to feel keenly distressed; she began to be convinced that Rachel had really loved Charter, while she had thrust Belhaven upon her at the very moment when she thought that her lover had forgotten her to marry Mrs. Prynne. Eva tore up Pamela's note and, scattering the bits broadcast, walked on under the trees; but she could not escape the thought that possessed her, it had become an idée fixe. It explained so many things, it goaded her with a hundred little pricks of pain. She scarcely noticed her path under the familiar trees, and she found none of Rachel's pleasure in a flower by the wayside or a bird in the bush. The simple, homely things of nature, the things of the Creator which comforted one sister, passed unseen by the other. Eva only observed that there was no one in the cedar grove and she entered by the little turnstile that led her to the rear of the house. She felt almost like some trespasser skulking along behind the rhododendrons, but she could not make up her mind to face the ordeal of Rachel and Belhaven together. She stopped once or twice, her graceful figure concealed by the clustering foliage, and peeped through some vista in the greenwood. The old, rambling house nestled under the trees with a peculiarly friendly and inviting aspect, and Eva perceived, with a fresh pang, how entirely Rachel had transformed it and clothed it with beauty and quaintness.
The deep-seated chairs on the wide veranda, the cool awnings, the lovely coloring of the flower-beds, all suggested the fostering hand of a woman clothed with those peculiar gifts which make home beautiful. Eva perceived it with a new keenness of vision and her heart sank as she recalled the unreal splendor of the big house that she had never loved to dwell in, which had been altogether for show and entertainment, and where she dreaded now to be alone with Astry. With this thought came another: with a sharp stab of pain, she wondered if Belhaven saw the difference, if he felt it too?
She had scarcely asked herself this question, however, when he appeared and she drew back with an involuntary start, forgetting that the rhododendrons completely screened her from his careless glance. But, after the first panic, she peeped out again and saw him lighting his cigar with the comfortable air of the habitué. He was clad in a suit of light summer flannels and wore a straw hat, and it seemed to Eva that he looked younger and taller than usual. He stood a moment on the steps and then sauntered down the driveway and disappeared through the gate. As he went he turned, looked back, and raised his hat with a courteous gesture. Eva caught her breath; then Rachel was watching him go!
After all, perhaps her distress was groundless, perhaps these two had found a way to reconcile themselves to their fate. She stood still, her lips compressed, thinking; with her old, soft self-pity, she thought her own position the hardest in the world, and that she had created the situation herself did not alleviate its misery. It was, perhaps, this very selfishness, this desire to find that no grief was as great as her own, that drove her on, for she only remained a moment in doubt; the next she was crossing the short stretch of lawn between the rhododendrons and the rear door. Sure now that Belhaven was out, she trailed leisurely across the intervening space and made her way to the front of the house.
As she had anticipated, she found Rachel in the front hall, but not even jealousy could detect any embarrassment or tenderness in her expression; instead, young Mrs. Belhaven looked deeply depressed. The sisters greeted each other with that constraint which was the natural result of their mutual knowledge. Rachel had been engaged in arranging some long-stemmed roses in a tall vase and she went on with her task, selecting them from a great cluster that lay on the table at her side. Eva picked up one or two and pressed them languidly against her face while she asked the usual desultory questions about the house and their mutual friends.