But the future had begun to lay its hand on Olive; the spell of the past was already losing power; the sense that it had all been a dream grew stronger every minute.In a few hours she would re-enter the little house close under the shadow of that old Wren church, which reminded her somehow of childhood, and her austere father with his chiselled face.The meeting with her husband! How go through that! And to-night! But she did not care to contemplate to-night.And all those to-morrows wherein there was nothing she had to do of which it was reasonable to complain, yet nothing she could do without feeling that all the friendliness and zest and colour was out of life, and she a prisoner.Into those to-morrows she felt she would slip back, out of her dream; lost, with hardly perhaps an effort.To get away to the house on the river, where her husband came only at weekends, had hitherto been a refuge; only she would not see Mark there--unless--! Then, with the thought that she would, must still see him sometimes, all again grew faintly glamorous.If only she did see him, what would the rest matter? Never again as it had before!
The Colonel was reaching down her handbag; his cheery: "Looks as if it would be rough!" aroused her.Glad to be alone, and tired enough now, she sought the ladies' cabin, and slept through the crossing, till the voice of the old stewardess awakened her:
"You've had a nice sleep.We're alongside, miss." Ah! if she were but THAT now! She had been dreaming that she was sitting in a flowery field, and Lennan had drawn her up by the hands, with the words: "We're here, my darling!"On deck, the Colonel, laden with bags, was looking back for her, and trying to keep a space between him and his wife.He signalled with his chin.Threading her way towards him, she happened to look up.By the rails of the pier above she saw her husband.He was leaning there, looking intently down; his tall broad figure made the people on each side of him seem insignificant.The clean-shaved, square-cut face, with those almost epileptic, forceful eyes, had a stillness and intensity beside which the neighbouring faces seemed to disappear.She saw him very clearly, even noting the touch of silver in his dark hair, on each side under his straw hat; noting that he seemed too massive for his neat blue suit.His face relaxed; he made a little movement of one hand.Suddenly it shot through her: Suppose Mark had travelled with them, as he had wished to do? For ever and ever now, that dark massive creature, smiling down at her, was her enemy; from whom she must guard and keep herself if she could; keep, at all events, each one of her real thoughts and hopes! She could have writhed, and cried out;instead, she tightened her grip on the handle of her bag, and smiled.Though so skilled in knowledge of his moods, she felt, in his greeting, his fierce grip of her shoulders, the smouldering of some feeling the nature of which she could not quite fathom.His voice had a grim sincerity: "Glad you're back--thought you were never coming!" Resigned to his charge, a feeling of sheer physical faintness so beset her that she could hardly reach the compartment he had reserved.It seemed to her that, for all her foreboding, she had not till this moment had the smallest inkling of what was now before her; and at his muttered: "Must we have the old fossils in?" she looked back to assure herself that her Uncle and Aunt were following.To avoid having to talk, she feigned to have travelled badly, leaning back with closed eyes, in her corner.If only she could open them and see, not this square-jawed face with its intent gaze of possession, but that other with its eager eyes humbly adoring her.The interminable journey ended all too soon.She clung quite desperately to the Colonel's hand on the platform at Charing Cross.When his kind face vanished she would be lost indeed! Then, in the closed cab, she heard her husband's: "Aren't you going to kiss me?" and submitted to his embrace.
She tried so hard to think: What does it matter? It's not I, not my soul, my spirit--only my miserable lips!
She heard him say: "You don't seem too glad to see me!" And then:
"I hear you had young Lennan out there.What was HE doing?"She felt the turmoil of sudden fear, wondered whether she was showing it, lost it in unnatural alertness--all in the second before she answered: "Oh! just a holiday."Some seconds passed, and then he said:
"You didn't mention him in your letters."She answered coolly: "Didn't I? We saw a good deal of him."She knew that he was looking at her--an inquisitive, half-menacing regard.Why--oh, why!--could she not then and there cry out: "And I love him--do you hear?--I love him!" So awful did it seem to be denying her love with these half lies! But it was all so much more grim and hopeless than even she had thought.How inconceivable, now, that she had ever given herself up to this man for life! If only she could get away from him to her room, and scheme and think!
For his eyes never left her, travelling over her with their pathetic greed, their menacing inquiry, till he said: "Well, it's not done you any harm.You look very fit." But his touch was too much even for her self-command, and she recoiled as if he had struck her.
"What's the matter? Did I hurt you?"
It seemed to her that he was jeering--then realized as vividly that he was not.And the full danger to her, perhaps to Mark himself, of shrinking from this man, striking her with all its pitiable force, she made a painful effort, slipped her hand under his arm, and said: "I'm very tired.You startled me."But he put her hand away, and turning his face, stared out of the window.And so they reached their home.
When he had left her alone, she remained where she was standing, by her wardrobe, without sound or movement, thinking: What am I going to do? How am I going to live?
