Part 35 (1/2)
”Please tell me what has happened,” she said at length.
Bessy, with a smile, released her hand. ”John has gone back to the life he prefers--which I take to be a hint to me to do the same.”
Justine hesitated again; then the pressure of truth overcame every barrier of expediency. ”Bessy--I ought to tell you that I saw Mr.
Amherst in town the day I went to Philadelphia. He spoke of going away for a time...he seemed unhappy...but he told me he was coming back to see you first--” She broke off, her clear eyes on her friend's; and she saw at once that Bessy was too self-engrossed to feel any surprise at her avowal. ”Surely he came back?” she went on.
”Oh, yes--he came back!” Bessy sank into the cus.h.i.+ons, watching the firelight play on her diamond chain as she repeated the restless gesture of lifting it up and letting it slip through her fingers.
”Well--and then?”
”Then--nothing! I was not here when he came.”
”You were not here? What had happened?”
”I had gone over to Blanche Carbury's for a day or two. I was just leaving when I heard he was coming back, and I couldn't throw her over at the last moment.”
Justine tried to catch the glance that fluttered evasively under Bessy's lashes. ”You knew he was coming--and you chose that time to go to Mrs.
Carbury's?”
”I didn't choose, my dear--it just happened! And it really happened for the best. I suppose he was annoyed at my going--you know he has a ridiculous prejudice against Blanche--and so the next morning he rushed off to his cotton mill.”
There was a pause, while the diamonds continued to flow in threads of fire through Mrs. Amherst's fingers.
At length Justine said: ”Did Mr. Amherst know that you knew he was coming back before you left for Mrs. Carbury's?”
Bessy feigned to meditate the question. ”Did he know that I knew that he knew?” she mocked. ”Yes--I suppose so--he must have known.” She stifled a slight yawn as she drew herself languidly to her feet.
”Then he took that as your answer?”
”My answer----?”
”To his coming back----”
”So it appears. I told you he had shown unusual tact.” Bessy stretched her softly tapering arms above her head and then dropped them along her sides with another yawn. ”But it's almost morning--it's wicked of me to have kept you so late, when you must be up to look after all those people!”
She flung her arms with a light gesture about Justine's shoulders, and laid a dry kiss on her cheek.
”Don't look at me with those big eyes--they've eaten up the whole of your face! And you needn't think I'm sorry for what I've done,” she declared. ”I'm _not_--the--least--little--atom--of a bit!”
XXIV
JUSTINE was pacing the long library at Lynbrook, between the caged sets of standard authors.
She felt as much caged as they: as much a part of a conventional stage-setting totally unrelated to the action going on before it. Two weeks had pa.s.sed since her return from Philadelphia; and during that time she had learned that her usefulness at Lynbrook was over. Though not unwelcome, she might almost call herself unwanted; life swept by, leaving her tethered to the stake of inaction; a bitter lot for one who chose to measure existence by deeds instead of days. She had found Bessy ostensibly busy with a succession of guests; no one in the house needed her but Cicely, and even Cicely, at times, was caught up into the whirl of her mother's life, swept off on sleighing parties and motor-trips, or carried to town for a dancing-cla.s.s or an opera matinee.
Mrs. Fenton Carbury was not among the visitors who left Lynbrook on the Monday after Justine's return.
Mr. Carbury, with the other bread-winners of the party, had hastened back to his treadmill in Wall Street after a Sunday spent in silently studying the files of the Financial Record; but his wife stayed on, somewhat aggressively in possession, criticizing and rearranging the furniture, ringing for the servants, making sudden demands on the stable, telegraphing, telephoning, ordering fires lighted or windows opened, and leaving everywhere in her wake a trail of cigarette ashes and c.o.c.ktail gla.s.ses.