The Open Question Part 111

Still, no self-reproach could rid him quite of his mental att.i.tude of jailer watching, argus-eyed, over a prisoner whose resourcefulness might any day or night find suddenly a way to freedom.

Life during these days of setting her house in order went on with a regularity, an outward tranquillity, that would have made a less sceptical soul than Ethan's pause and wonder. It was not Val who refused to see their few friends.

"Ethan is very busy." "Ethan is writing." "He's so sorry he can't join us to-day; but I'll go with you," etc. These were the fragments that floated up-stairs from the hall, or through his curtained windows from the gate. So little did Val seem unnerved or pain absorbed, he was sure that she was more friendly to her friends than ever, more mindful of them. He watched with wonder her childish pleasure in making little farewell presents.

"n.o.body is forgotten, I think," she said, looking with outward content at a table piled with labelled packages.

Ethan in his heart was saying: "All this looks like a genuine leave-taking, all but her own face, her even, unjarred voice, her unfrightened eyes."

"This is what I'm best pleased about." She took up the long envelope with the papers referring to Venus's cottage, which had been settled on that faithful servant for life, and was afterwards to go to the twins.

"Grandma would have been glad about this."

"What are you doing with all _her_ things?" Ethan asked, with restless dark eyes searching her face for weakness or for subterfuge. "Those things you are giving away seem all to be yours."

"Yes, all yours and mine."

"And what of hers?"

She shook her head vaguely.

"You'll have to sell them."

"Never! never!"

His eyes gleamed. Was he on the track?

"Other people will sell them if you don't."

Her face clouded.

"I've already given away a great many household things, to Emmie's poor people, and others Venus has told me about."

"And the rest?"

"I hear Julia."

"She won't come up here."

"She may."

He hastened to secure the door. Val ran out and met Julia at the top of the stair. Ethan listened to the greeting, and heard Julia say:

"Why, _Val_!"

"What is it?"

"It's true, then?"

"What?"

Val's voice rang quick and anxious.

"You are nicer to me these last few days."

"Oh, do you think so?"

Relief breathed through every syllable.

"Don't you realize that, until just now, you haven't kissed me since--"

"Sh! Let's go down; we mustn't disturb Ethan."

That evening, while Ethan sat smoking and writing letters in his room, Val got up from the sofa where she was lying.

"Where are you going?" he said, without turning round.

"Down-stairs. I'll be back by-and-by."

"Come here."

She stood beside him. He leaned back in his chair looking at her till she put her hand over his eyes.

"Don't! don't!" she whispered, leaning her cheek on his hair.

He put his two hands round the little waist, touching the turquoises in her belt.

"Who is to have this--afterwards?" he said.

She stood up straight.

"You didn't think I would give that away?"

"Well--" His air puzzled her.

"Would you be content," she said, "to think of any one else wearing it?"

"Content! But sometimes it's hard to believe you are facing the thought of laying it aside."

She flushed under his look.

"I don't know that I _shall_ lay it aside."

While he stared she went out of the room, shutting the door.

He sat for a moment, following up first one train and then the other suggested by her speech, till he had convinced himself finally that the explanation of these last days lay in the fact that she was _not_ facing the compact. She would elude it. He started to his feet. It was as if he had been brought face to face with proof of wifely infidelity.

He found her in the long room kneeling before the open escritoire.