The Spell Part 21

We have had so few."

"He should have understood that I had some good reason for planning matters just as I did or I should not have done it."

"Do you regret being alone with me?"

Helen struggled to keep the tears out of her voice.

"Don't be absurd, Helen," replied Armstrong, impatiently. "That is not the point at all. Miss Thayer is tired and needed this relaxation. Mr.

Cartwright had no right to interfere."

There was a long silence, during which Armstrong relapsed into a profound taciturnity, while Helen found it hard to know what tack to take. She glanced occasionally at her husband, but could gain no inspiration from his grim, set features.

"Tell me, Jack," she said, at length, "is it not possible for you to pursue your work at the library without having it make you so indifferent to everything else?"

He shifted his position uneasily. "I am not indifferent to everything else. The fact that I proposed this ride is an evidence of that."

"Has something happened to make my companionship distasteful to you?"

Armstrong became more and more irritated. "I don't see why you are so possessed to make me uncomfortable, Helen. But I understand what you are driving at."

"What am I driving at?" she asked, quietly.

"You are taking this method to force me to put an end to my work."

Helen winced. "Is that fair, Jack? What have I said to you every time the subject has been mentioned?"

"You have told me to go ahead, and then you have shown quite plainly by every action that you did not mean it."

"Jack Armstrong!" She was indignant at his gross injustice.

"What have I said each time the subject has come up?" continued Armstrong. "You have had every opportunity to have your own way in this as in all other matters. I repeat it now--is it your wish that I stop my work? Say but the word and I will never enter that library again."

Helen was hurt through and through. To what avail was her sacrifice if it be so little understood, so little appreciated?

"I don't wish to be misunderstood in this," added Armstrong, as if in answer to her thoughts. "I quite realize that I have asked much of you who can understand so little of what my book means to me. I have been entirely frank, and have accepted from you the time which rightfully belongs to you in the spirit, as I supposed, in which you gave it to me.

If you did not mean what you said, you have but to tell me so and it shall be exactly as you wish."

"I have meant every word I have said, Jack," replied Helen, in a low, strained voice. "I have been glad to contribute in the only way I could to anything which means so much to you. I simply ask you now whether it is necessary for this absorption to include all of yourself even when you are away from it. I did not suppose that this was essential."

"You are exaggerating the situation out of all proportion."

"I wish I were, Jack."

Helen's voice had a tired note in it which Armstrong could not fail to perceive. He was amazed by his own apathy. Why did it mean so little to him? Why did he sit there beside her as if he had not noticed it when in reality he felt the pain as keenly as she did? He turned and looked at her for the first time since they had started. Helen gave no sign that she was conscious of his scrutiny, lying back with her cheek resting upon her hand, her eyes closed, her lips quivering now and then in spite of her supreme effort to control herself. Always, before, Armstrong would have folded her in his arms and brushed away the heart-pains, real or imaginary as they might have been. Now he sat watching her suffer without making any effort to relieve her.

He despised himself for his att.i.tude. What wretched thing had come between him and this girl whom he had idolized, and prevented him from extending even the common sympathy which belonged to any one who needed it? What malevolent power forced him to be the cause of this sorrow and yet forbade him the privilege of a.s.suaging it? This was not the lesson learned from the humanists. Why should not he be able to give out to those around him the reflection of that true happiness which their work first taught the world?

Helen opened her eyes suddenly and looked full into his. Startled at the expression on his face, she sat upright, keenly anxious and forgetful of her own troubles.

"Jack dear," she cried, "you are not well! You are unhappy, too! Tell me what it all means, and let us understand it together!"

Her voice brought back the old condition. His eyes lowered and he withdrew his hand from Helen's impulsive grasp. With a heart heavy for the explanation which lay close at hand, his voice refused to obey.

"I am perfectly well, Helen," he replied. "Why should you think me otherwise?"

The reaction was great, yet Helen succeeded in retaining her control.

While conscious, during the weeks past, of the change in her husband's bearing toward her, she was unprepared for his present att.i.tude. Yet the look in his face when she had surprised him by opening her eyes was the old expression by which in the past she had known that something had touched him deeply--but it was intensified beyond anything she had ever seen. It had always been her privilege to comfort him under these conditions, and instinctively her heart sprang forward to meet his. Then she saw the expression change and she grew cold with apprehension.

"Ask Alfonse to turn back, please," she begged. "The air is getting chilly and I think I would rather be home."

In response to her desire the chauffeur turned the car, and the ride back to the villa was accomplished in silence. Helen's thoughts ran rampant, but further conversation was impossible. Her pain was now tempered by her anxiety. Jack was not well, in spite of his disclaimers.

His close application to his work in the poorly ventilated library had undoubtedly affected him, and this was the explanation of his otherwise inexplicable att.i.tude toward her. It was with positive relief that she discovered any explanation, and as she thought things over this relief lightened the burden she had been carrying all these weeks more than anything which had happened since the cloud began to gather. In some way she must plan to relieve the pressure and bring her husband back to her and to himself again.

Inez and Uncle Peabody met them at the doorway.

"The ride has done you good," said the latter, giving his hand to Helen and noting the light in the girl's eyes as they walked toward the hall.

"I have left my scarf in the car," said Helen, turning back so quickly that Mr. Cartwright had no opportunity to offer his services.

Armstrong and Inez were standing together on the step, and as Helen approached she could not help overhearing her husband's reply to Miss Thayer's inquiring looks.

"You are the only one who understands me," Armstrong was saying--"you are the only one!"

XV

The next afternoon was a warm one, and Annetta searched for some little time before she discovered Uncle Peabody half concealed within a natural arbor formed by the falling branches of an ancient tree. Here, in the cooling shade, he was reading over a budget of letters just received from America. Emory followed close behind the maid, and laughed heartily at Mr. Cartwright's jump of startled surprise when Annetta broke into his absorption with the announcement of "Signor Emori."

"h.e.l.lo, Emory!" he cried, looking up genially from the letter in his hand. "I was thousands of miles away, and two words from the lips of the gentle serving-maid brought me back to Florence. Marconigrams are nothing compared with the marvellous exhibition you have just witnessed."

"It is a shame to interrupt you," Emory apologized. "I came up early hoping to have a little chat with you before Professor Tesso and tea-time arrived."

"Don't apologize, I beg of you," protested Uncle Peabody, gathering up his letters and making room for Emory to sit beside him. "I was just on the point of returning, anyway, and you have saved me the necessity of packing up. In fact, you are very welcome."

"I judge your news is of an agreeable nature?"

Emory saw that Uncle Peabody was eager to be questioned.

"Things are advancing famously," replied Mr. Cartwright, enthusiastically. "These letters are from America, and report the fullest success attending the experiments there with which I am so vitally concerned. But what are you carrying so carefully at arm's-length?"

Uncle Peabody peered into the little wicker cage Emory was holding.

"Ah, a _grillo_!" he said. "Then to-day must be Ascension Day and the _Festa dei Grilli_. I had forgotten the date."

"So that explains why they are selling these little cages with crickets inside of them all over the city. The old woman I bought this of told me it was a token of good luck, so I brought it to Helen."