Part 47 (1/2)
”She isn't tremendously old.”
”Oh, but she looks so. When you see her in her nightcap--it's horrible, the whole thing, grandmother and all, and here I am shut up with it.”
”I'm sorry,” said Alston, in a low tone. ”I'm devilish sorry.”
”And I want to go away,” said Esther, her voice rising hysterically, so that Alston nervously hoped she wouldn't cry. ”But I can't do that. I haven't enough to live on, away from here, and I'm afraid.”
”Esther,” said he, daring at last to bring out the doubt that a.s.sailed him when he mused over her by himself, ”just what do you mean by saying you are afraid?”
”You know,” said Esther, almost in a whisper. She had herself in hand now.
”Yes. But tell me again. Tell me explicitly.”
”I'm afraid,” said Esther, ”of him.”
”Of your husband? If that's it, say it.”
”I'm afraid of Jeff. He's been in here. I told you so. He took hold of me. He dragged me by my wrists. Alston, how can you make me tell you!”
The appeal sickened him. He got up and walked away to the mantel where the candles were, and stood there leaning against the shelf. He heard her catch her breath, and knew she was near sobs. He came back to his chair, and his voice had resumed so much of its judicial tone that her breath grew stiller in accord.
”Esther,” said he, ”you'd better tell me everything.”
”I can't,” said she, ”everything. You are--” the rest came in a startling gush of words--”you are the last man I could tell.”
It was a confession, a surrender, and he felt the tremendous weight of it. Was he the last man she could tell? Was she then, poor child, withholding herself from him as he, in decency, was aloof from her? He pulled himself together.
”Perhaps I can't do anything for you,” he said, ”in my own person. But I can see that other people do. I can see that you have counsel.”
”Alston,” said she, in what seemed to him a beautiful simplicity, ”why can't you do anything for me?”
This was so divinely childlike and direct that he had to tell her.
”Esther, don't you see? If you have grounds for action against your husband, could I be the man to try your case? Could I? When you have just said I am the last man you could tell? I can't get you a divorce----” he stopped there. He couldn't possibly add, ”and then marry you afterward.”
”I see,” said Esther, yet raging against him inwardly. ”You can't help me.”
”I can help you,” said Alston. ”But you must be frank with me. I must know whether you have any case at all. Now answer me quite simply and plainly. Does Jeff support you?”
”Oh, no,” said Esther.
”He gives you no money whatever?”
”None.”
”Then he's a bigger rascal than I've been able to think him.”
”I believe----” said Esther, and stopped.
”What do you believe?”
”I think the money must come from his father. He sends it to me.”