CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Restitution"
"I had to," cried Mildred bewilderingly, as she hurried, hatless, breathless, along the walk, when she left her lover so abruptly. She was distracted; she was not fully aware of what she said. All she knew was, that at the most supreme moment of her existence, she had broken away from the one she loved, and for whom she would have been willing to die; but to marry him at last, she felt she could not conscientiously do. "Oh, but it was manly, kindly—sublime, his offer, and how I love him for it!" she whispered. "I know he will forgive me; he will remember me kindly; he will never forget me, and my love for him—but to go to him and make him suffer with the thought of the past—never!"
She slowed down, as she neared the wide street, that crossed just ahead of her. She crossed the walk to the center of the street, where a car was coming, and caught it. Once inside and seated, she lay back, and became, for a time, dully listless. Presently, she saw the river just ahead, and when the car slowed down, she left it, crossed to the ferry, and went aboard. A half hour later, she was in her room.
Her sister greeted her pleasantly from the garden, which aroused her emotion to such a degree, that she choked slightly, in order to hold back words she had long wished to say.
When alone at last in her room, she lay across the bed, and gave up to the feeling of inertia, that had taken possession of her.
All that day she remained so. She could scarcely collect her wits. Again and again, the events connected with his return, flew through her dull, sluggish mind, and, at last, to relieve it, she dressed in a cool, thin dress, and went for a walk down by the river front.
She passed many docks, where not so many steamers lay at anchor as she had once noticed. She wondered why, since she had observed the falling off of traffic. Then she thought about the bloodshed that was going on each day across the water. She soon came abreast of a wharf where more than a score of great ocean goers were anchored. No smoke came from their funnels; no men worked away on their decks; in fact, they were as silent as the grave, their dark hulls casting a dull shadow above the water. She wandered down the board platform, and studied them idly. Then she read, painted on their sterns, names with Bremen and Hamburg as their port.... Her thoughts again reverted to the carnage across the waters.
She found the street again, and wandered aimlessly along the sidewalk. Suddenly she halted and strained her ears, as a sound came to her from some distance. She listened, and then looked up and across the river, where the creole city stretched, apparently endless, before her. She observed in doing so, for the first time, that the river curved in such a manner as to form a perfect crescent at this point, and, although her thoughts were confused, she did not fail to appreciate the beauty of it.