It was not in the room at the red house as Mr. Royall's “office” that he his clients. Professional and it necessary that he should have a office, under a different roof; and his as the only lawyer of North Dormer that the should be the same as that which the Town Hall and the post-office.
It was his to walk to this office twice a day, and afternoon. It was on the ground of the building, with a entrance, and a name-plate on the door. Before going in he in to the post-office for his mail—usually an empty ceremony—said a word or two to the town-clerk, who sat across the passage in state, and then over to the store on the opposite corner, where Carrick Fry, the storekeeper, always a chair for him, and where he was sure to one or two on the long counter, in an of rope, leather, and coffee-beans. Mr. Royall, though at home, was not averse, in moods, to his views to his fellow-townsmen; perhaps, also, he was that his clients should him sitting, and unoccupied, in his office. At any rate, his hours there were not much longer or more regular than Charity's at the library; the of the time he either at the store or in about the country on with the that he represented, or in at home reading Bancroft's History of the United States and the speeches of Daniel Webster.
Since the day when Charity had told him that she to succeed to Eudora Skeff's post their relations had but definitely changed. Lawyer Royall had his word. He had the place for her at the cost of maneuvering, as she from the number of candidates, and from the with which two of them, Orma Fry and the Targatt girl, her for nearly a year afterward. And he had Verena Marsh to come up from Creston and do the cooking. Verena was a old widow, and shiftless: Charity that she came for her keep. Mr. Royall was too close a man to give a a day to a girl when he a for nothing. But at any rate, Verena was there, in the just over Charity, and the that she was did not trouble the girl.
Charity that what had on that night would not again. She that, as she had Mr. Royall since, he himself still more profoundly. If she had asked for a woman in the house it was less for her own defense than for his humiliation. She needed no one to her: his was her protection. He had spoken a word of or extenuation; the was as if it had been. Yet its were in every word that he and she exchanged, in every they from each other. Nothing now would shake her in the red house.
On the night of her meeting with Miss Hatchard's Charity in bed, her arms under her head, and to think of him. She that he meant to some time in North Dormer. He had said he was looking up the old houses in the neighbourhood; and though she was not very clear as to his purpose, or as to why anyone should look for old houses, when they in wait for one on every roadside, she that he needed the help of books, and to up the next day the she had failed to find, and any others that related to the subject.
Never had her of life and so on her as in the of her discomfiture. “It's no use trying to be anything in this place,” she to her pillow; and she at the of metropolises, super-Nettletons, where girls in than Belle Balch's talked of to men with hands like Lucius Harney's. Then she his pause when he had come close to the and had his look at her. The had him what he was going to say; she the in his face, and jumping up she ran over the to her washstand, the matches, a candle, and it to the square of looking-glass on the white-washed wall. Her small face, so pale, like a rose in the of light, and under her her and larger than by day. Perhaps after all it was a mistake to wish they were blue. A and her night-gown about the throat. She it, her thin shoulders, and saw herself a in low-necked satin, walking an with Lucius Harney. He would her as they left the church.... She put the and her with her hands as if to the kiss. At that moment she Mr. Royall's step as he came up the stairs to bed, and a of over her. Until then she had him; now of him her heart. He to her a old man....
The next day, when Mr. Royall came to dinner, they each other in as usual. Verena's presence at the table was an for their not talking, though her would have permitted the of confidences. But when the was over, and Mr. Royall rose from the table, he looked at Charity, who had to help the old woman clear away the dishes.
“I want to speak to you a minute,” he said; and she him across the passage, wondering.
He seated himself in his black horse-hair armchair, and she against the window, indifferently. She was to be gone to the library, to for the book on North Dormer.
“See here,” he said, “why ain't you at the library the days you're to be there?”
The question, in on her mood of abstraction, her of speech, and she at him for a moment without answering.
“Who says I ain't?”
“There's been some made, it appears. Miss Hatchard sent for me this morning——”
Charity's into a blaze. “I know! Orma Fry, and that of a Targatt girl and Ben Fry, like as not. He's going with her. The low-down sneaks—I always they'd try to have me out! As if came to the library, anyhow!”
“Somebody did yesterday, and you weren't there.”
“Yesterday?” she laughed at her happy recollection. “At what time wasn't I there yesterday, I'd like to know?”
“Round about four o'clock.”
Charity was silent. She had been so in the of Harney's visit that she had having her post as soon as he had left the library.
“Who came at four o'clock?”
“Miss Hatchard did.”
“Miss Hatchard? Why, she ain't been near the place since she's been lame. She couldn't up the steps if she tried.”
“She can be helped up, I guess. She was yesterday, anyhow, by the that's with her. He you there, I understand, in the afternoon; and he and told Miss Hatchard the books were in shape and needed to. She got excited, and had herself round; and when she got there the place was locked. So she sent for me, and told me about that, and about the other complaints. She you've neglected things, and that she's going to a librarian.”
Charity had not moved while he spoke. She with her against the window-frame, her arms against her sides, and her hands so that she felt, without what her, the of her against her palms.
Of all Mr. Royall had said she had only the phrase: “He told Miss Hatchard the books were in shape.” What did she for the other against her? Malice or truth, she them as she her detractors. But that the to she had herself so should have her! That at the very moment when she had up the to think of him more he should have been home to her short-comings! She how, in the of her room, she had her to press his closer; and her against him for the he had not taken.
“Well, I'll go,” she said suddenly. “I'll go right off.”
“Go where?” She the note in Mr. Royall's voice.
“Why, out of their old library: out, and set in it again. They needn't think I'm going to wait and let them say they've me!”
“Charity—Charity Royall, you listen——” he began, out of his chair; but she him aside, and walked out of the room.
Upstairs she took the library key from the place where she always it under her pincushion—who said she wasn't careful?—put on her hat, and again and out into the street. If Mr. Royall her go he no motion to her: his him the of with hers.
She the temple, the door and entered into the twilight. “I'm I'll have to in this old again when other are out in the sun!” she said as the familiar took her. She looked with at the long of books, the sheep-nosed Minerva on her black pedestal, and the mild-faced man in a high stock above her desk. She meant to take out of the her roll of and the library register, and go to Miss Hatchard to her resignation. But a great her, and she sat and her against the desk. Her was by life's discovery: the who had come toward her out of the had her of joy. She did not cry; came hard to her, and the of her themselves inwardly. But as she sat there in her she her life to be too desolate, too and intolerable.
“What have I done to it, that it should me so?” she groaned, and pressed her against her lids, which were to with weeping.
“I won't—I won't go there looking like a horror!” she muttered, up and pushing her as if it her. She opened the drawer, out the register, and toward the door. As she did so it opened, and the man from Miss Hatchard's came in whistling.
