ewasalmostindifferent.
“Imustbefrightfullycruel,”shemuttered.
Thentheideacameofwhatherfriendswouldsaywhentheysawhercalmself-possession.Shetriedtoweep,buthereyesremaineddry.
Therewasaknockatthedoor,andMissGlover’svoice,brokenwithtears,“Bertha,Bertha,wontyouletmein?It’sme—Fanny.”
Berthasprangtoherfeet,butdidnotanswer.
MissGlovercalledagain,andhervoicewaschokedwithsobs.WhycouldFannyGloverweepforEdward’sdeath,whowasastranger,whenshe,Bertha,remainedinsensible?
“Bertha!”
“Yes.”
“Openthedoorforme.Oh,I’msosorryforyou.Pleaseletmein.”
Berthalookedwildlyatthedoor,shedarednotletMissGlovercome.
“Icanseenoonenow,”shecried,hoarsely.“Don’taskme.”
“IthinkIcouldcomfortyou.”
“Iwanttobealone.”
MissGloverwassilentforaminute,cryingaudibly.
“ShallIwaitdownstairs?Youcanringifyouwantme.Perhapsyou’llseemelater.”
Berthawishedtotellhertogoaway,butdarednot.
“Doasyoulike,”shesaid.
Therewassilenceagain,anunearthlysilencemoretryingthanhideousdin.Itwasasilencethattightenedthenervesandmadethemhorriblysensitive:onedarednotbreatheforfearofbreakingit.
AndonethoughtcametoBertha,assailingherlikeadeviltormenting.Shecriedoutinhorror,forthiswasmoreodiousthananythingitwassimplyintolerable.Shethrewherselfonherbedandburiedherfaceinherpillowtodriveitaway.Forshame,sheputherhandstoherearssoasnottoheartheinvisiblefiendsthatwhispereditsilently.
Shewasfree.
Shequailedbeforethethought,butcouldnotcrushit.“Hasitcometothis!”shemurmured.
Andthencamebacktherecollectionofthebeginningsofherlove.SherecalledthepassionthathadthrownherblindlyintoEdward’sarms,herbitterhumiliationwhensherealisedthathecouldnotrespondtoherardourherlovewasafireplayingineffectuallyuponarockofbasalt.Sherecalledthehatredwhichfollowedthedisillusion,andfinallytheindiffer