What if she did? What if she made him a confession? How would he stand
then? He would have to bring a divorce!
A divorce! Thus close, the word was paralyzing, so utterly at variance
with all the principles that had hitherto guided his life. Its lack of
compromise appalled him; he felt--like the captain of a ship, going to
the side of his vessel, and, with his own hands throwing over the most
precious of his bales. This jettisoning of his property with his own
hand seemed uncanny to Soames. It would injure him in his profession: He
would have to get rid of the house at Robin Hill, on which he had spent
so much money, so much anticipation--and at a sacrifice. And she! She
would no longer belong to him, not even in name! She would pass out of
his life, and he--he should never see her again!
He traversed in the cab the length of a street without getting beyond
the thought that he should never see her again!
But perhaps there was nothing to confess, even now very likely there was
nothing to confess. Was it wise to push things so far? Was it wise to
put himself into a position where he might have to eat his words? The
result of this case would ruin Bosinney; a ruined man was desperate,
but--what could he do? He might go abroad, ruined men always went
abroad. What could they do--if indeed it was 'they'--without money? It
would be better to wait and see how things turned out. If necessary,
he could have her watched. The agony of his jealousy (for all the world
like the crisis of an aching tooth) came on again; and he almost cried
out. But he must decide, fix on some course of action before he got
home. When the cab drew up at the door, he had decided nothing.
He entered, pale, his hands moist with perspiration, dreading to meet
her, burning to meet her, ignorant of what he was to say or do.
The maid Bilson was in the hall, and in answer to his question: "Where
is your mistress?" told him that Mrs. Forsyte had left the house about
noon, taking with her a trunk and bag.
Snatching the sleeve of his fur coat away from her grasp, he confronted
her:
"What?" he exclaimed; "what's that you said?" Suddenly recollecting that
he must not betray emotion, he added: "What message did she leave?" and
noticed with secret terror the startled look of the maid's eyes.
"Mrs. Forsyte left no message, sir."
"No message; very well, thank you, that will do. I shall be dining out."