Part 63 (2/2)

They arrived one rainy night at the station, where Ebenezer met them with the carriage. He greeted both effusively, and his manner perhaps was more cordial because of his brother-in-law's death-stricken face.

”You'll buck up now you're home, Fred,” he said, after he had kissed his sister and helped them into the carriage.

”Maybe, but I doubt it,” the invalid replied wearily.

”Nonsense, Fred,” his wife broke out. ”You make me tired. You're always whining. Of course, you're going to get well.”

Too fatigued to argue, Frederick leaned back upon the cus.h.i.+ons. Except for an occasional word, they were silent during the long drive through the rain.

Home at last, they found Helen waiting in the great hall. To Madelene, who preceded the men into the house, she looked much older, more dignified. Lines of worry around her eyes and mouth told the girl that her sister-in-law's life with Ebenezer had not been entirely easy.

After kissing Madelene, Helen extended her hand to Frederick.

”I hope you'll be better soon, Fred,” she encouraged. ”Our country fare'll put some flesh on your bones.... You look after the invalid, Ebenezer, and I'll take Madelene upstairs.”

The two women walked upstairs together. Waldstricker gazed after them, pride and joy in his eyes. His wife and his sister reunited brought him a feeling of content. Frederick, fussing with his coat and rubbers, seemed hardly aware of their going.

”I'm glad to have you back, Fred,” began Waldstricker, anxious to express the gratification he felt.

”We're glad to get back, of course,” Frederick responded coldly. He followed the elder into the library and threw himself on a lounge to rest until dinner.

In the room above, Helen helped Madelene off with her things and listened to her chatter about the journey. She could detect a sullen dissatisfaction with Frederick running like a dark thread through the current of her talk. It was clear to Helen that Madelene had lost her regard for her husband. Apparently, she cared so little that she didn't feel it necessary to hide or explain her feelings.

”And, now I want to see little Elsie,” gushed Madelene. ”I've been crazy to see her ever since she was born.”

”She's such a darling,” smiled Helen, ”and is the very joy of her father's heart.... Come on in the nursery.”

For a few seconds Madelene leaned over the sleeping child, a rosy child with thick blonde curls. A keen sense of the emptiness of her own arms stirred in her an envy of the complacent young matron standing at the foot of the little white bed. Perhaps Fred would've been different if they'd had a little one.

”I'd love to have a baby,” she breathed discontentedly. ”But--”

During the significant pause, Helen linked her arm through the speaker's.

”Let's go down to dinner,” she suggested. ”You must be famished after your long ride.”

At the table, the conversation touched many matters relating to the happenings in the lives of the long separated families. Madelene plied her knife and fork industriously, and jumped from topic to topic, expressing a lively interest in all the events in Ithaca.

”And your brother, dear?” she asked her hostess. ”Is he still at the lake place?”

Helen threw a quick glance at her husband, whose lips sank at the corners, his face coloring to a deep red.

When his sister asked the question, the gla.s.s from which the elder had been drinking struck the table sharply, as though he wished to emphasize his displeasure.

”Yes, he lives there,” he broke in. ”In your father's old place, Fred.

His lease is not up for almost a year.”

<script>