"Some way I don't feel moved to speak of things that trouble me. Don't
think I am ungrateful or that I don't appreciate your sympathy. There
are periods of despondency and suffering which take possession of me.
But I don't want anything but my own way. That is wanting a good deal,
of course, when you have to trample upon the lives, the hearts, the
prejudices of others--but no matter--still, I shouldn't want to trample
upon the little lives. Oh! I don't know what I'm saying, Doctor. Good
night. Don't blame me for anything."
"Yes, I will blame you if you don't come and see me soon. We will talk
of things you never have dreamt of talking about before. It will do
us both good. I don't want you to blame yourself, whatever comes. Good
night, my child."
She let herself in at the gate, but instead of entering she sat upon
the step of the porch. The night was quiet and soothing. All the tearing
emotion of the last few hours seemed to fall away from her like a
somber, uncomfortable garment, which she had but to loosen to be rid of.
She went back to that hour before Adele had sent for her; and her senses
kindled afresh in thinking of Robert's words, the pressure of his arms,
and the feeling of his lips upon her own. She could picture at that
moment no greater bliss on earth than possession of the beloved one.
His expression of love had already given him to her in part. When she
thought that he was there at hand, waiting for her, she grew numb with
the intoxication of expectancy. It was so late; he would be asleep
perhaps. She would awaken him with a kiss. She hoped he would be asleep
that she might arouse him with her caresses.
Still, she remembered Adele's voice whispering, "Think of the children;
think of them." She meant to think of them; that determination had
driven into her soul like a death wound--but not to-night. To-morrow
would be time to think of everything.
Robert was not waiting for her in the little parlor. He was nowhere at
hand. The house was empty. But he had scrawled on a piece of paper that
lay in the lamplight:
"I love you. Good-by--because I love you."
Edna grew faint when she read the words. She went and sat on the sofa.
Then she stretched herself out there, never uttering a sound. She did
not sleep. She did not go to bed. The lamp sputtered and went out. She
was still awake in the morning, when Celestine unlocked the kitchen door
and came in to light the fire.