The Trespasser

'What do you mean? What has happened? Something has happened to you.

What has happened at home? What are you going to do?' she said sharply.

She palpitated with terror. For the first time she felt powerless.

Siegmund was beyond her grasp. She was afraid of him. He had shaken away

her hold over him.

'There is nothing fresh the matter at home,' he replied wearily. He was

to be scourged with emotion again. 'I swear it,' he added. 'And I have

not made up my mind. But I can't think of life without you--and life

must go on.' 'And I swear,' she said wrathfully, turning at bay, 'that I won't live a

day after you.' Siegmund dropped his head. The dead spring of his emotion swelled up

scalding hot again. Then he said, almost inaudibly: 'Ah, don't speak to

me like that, dear. It is late to be angry. When I have seen your train

out tonight there is nothing left.' Helena looked at him, dumb with dismay, stupid, angry.

They became aware of the porters shouting loudly that the Waterloo train

was to leave from another platform.

'You'd better come,' said Siegmund, and they hurried down towards Louisa

and Olive.

'We've got to change platforms,' cried Louisa, running forward and

excitedly announcing the news.

'Yes,' replied Helena, pale and impassive.

Siegmund picked up the luggage.

'I say,' cried Olive, rushing to catch Helena and Louisa by the arm,

'look--look--both of you--look at that hat!' A lady in front was wearing

on her hat a wild and dishevelled array of peacock feathers. 'It's the

sight of a lifetime. I wouldn't have you miss it,' added Olive in hoarse

_sotto voce_.

'Indeed not!' cried Helena, turning in wild exasperation to look. 'Get a

good view of it, Olive. Let's have a good mental impression of it--one

that will last.' 'That's right, dear,' said Olive, somewhat nonplussed by this outburst.

Siegmund had escaped with the heaviest two bags. They could see him

ahead, climbing the steps. Olive readjusted herself from the wildly

animated to the calmly ironical.

'After all, dear,' she said, as they hurried in the tail of the crowd,

'it's not half a bad idea to get a man on the job.' Louisa laughed aloud at this vulgar conception of Siegmund.

'Just now, at any rate,' she rejoined.

As they reached the platform the train ran in before them. Helena

watched anxiously for an empty carriage. There was not one.

'Perhaps it is as well,' she thought. 'We needn't talk. There will be

three-quarters of an hour at Waterloo. If we were alone. Olive would

make Siegmund talk.' She found a carriage with four people, and hastily took possession.

Siegmund followed her with the bags. He swung these on the rack, and

then quickly received the rugs, umbrellas, and packages from the other

two. These he put on the seats or anywhere, while Helena stowed them.

She was very busy for a moment or two; the racks were full. Other people

entered; their luggage was troublesome to bestow.