lfintheglass.
InthemiddleofthemorningcameatelegramfromMissLey,tellingBerthatocomewheneversheliked—hopingEdwardwouldcometoo!Berthaleftitinaconspicuousplacesothathecouldnotfailtoseeit.
“Soyou’rereallygoing?”hesaid.
“ItoldyouIwasasabletokeepmywordasyou.”
“Well,Ithinkit’lldoyounoendofgood.Howlongwillyoustay?”
“HowdoIknow!Perhapsforever.”
“That’sabigword—thoughithasonlytwosyllables.”
ItcutBerthatotheheartthatEdwardshouldbesoindifferent—hecouldnotcareforheratall.Heseemedtothinkitnaturalthatsheshouldleavehim,pretendingitwasgoodforherhealth.Oh,whatdidshecareaboutherhealth!Asshemadetheneedfulpreparationshercouragefailedher,andshefeltitimpossibletogo.Tearscameasshethoughtofthedifferencebetweentheirpresentstateandtheardentloveofayearbefore.Shewouldhavewelcomedthepoorestexcusethatforcedhertostay,andyetsavedherself-respect.IfEdwardwouldonlyexpressgriefattheparting,itmightnotbetoolate.ButherboxeswerepackedandhertrainfixedhetoldMissGloverthathiswifewasgoingawayforachangeofair,andregrettedthathisfarmpreventedhimfromaccompanyingher.Thetrapwasbroughttothedoor,andEdwardjumpedup,takinghisseat.Nowtherewasnohope,andgoshemust.ShewishedforcouragetotellEdwardthatshecouldnotleavehim,butwasafraid.TheydrovealonginsilenceBerthawaitedforherhusbandtospeak,daringtosaynothingherself,lestheshouldhearthetearsinhervoice.Atlastshemadeaneffort.
“AreyousorryI’mgoing?”
“Ithinkit’sforyourgood—andIdon’twanttostandinthewayofthat.”
Berthaaskedherselfwhatloveamanhadforhiswife,whocouldbearheroutofhissight,nomatterwhatthenecessity.Shestifledasigh.
Theyreachedthestationandhetookherticket.Theywaitedinsilenceforthetrain,andEdwardboughtPunchandTheSketchfromanewspaperboy.ThehorribletrainsteamedupEdwardhelpedherintoacarriage,andthetearsinhereyesnowcouldnotbeconcealed.Sheputoutherlips.
“Perhapsforthelasttime,”shewhispered.