Her greatest fear was that Miss Chester would know the real state of things. When she was present Marie always exerted every nerve to appear bright and happy; she went out of her way to talk to Chris. She was determined that the old lady should believe they had had a thoroughly good time and were perfectly happy.
She did not understand that eyes that appear woefully blind can often see the clearest. Miss Chester had long ago discovered for herself that this marriage, like many others she had seen during her life, was turning out a failure.
She was too wise to let either of them know of her discovery, but she shed many tears over it in secret and lay awake night after night wondering what she could do to help and put things right, but 113 realizing that she could do absolutely nothing.
Interference would make things worse. She understood thoroughly the different temperaments with which she had to contend; she knew just how proud Marie was, just how obstinate Chris could be. She could only wait and hope with a trembling heart.
Chris seemed to have drifted back to his bachelor days; he came and went as he chose, and he said no more about looking for a house wherein he and Marie might make their home.
Miss Chester spoke of it once to Marie.
"My dear, don't you think you should be looking about for a house of your own? I love you to be with me, but I am sure that Chris must want his own home—it's only natural."
"I think Chris is quite happy, Aunt Madge," Marie answered, in the too quiet voice in which she always spoke to Miss Chester.
"Quite happy! But what about you?" the old lady asked indignantly. "Every wife wants her own home; it's only natural, and there's plenty of money for you to have a delightful home."
"Money again!" Marie thought wearily. What great store everyone seemed to set by it!