They to the road to the at old Dan's pace. Charity herself into of weariness, and as they through the there were moments when she the exact of things, and to be her lover with the of over them. But this was and transitory. For the most part she had only a of a current; and she herself to the as a from the of thought.
Mr. Royall spoke, but his presence gave her, for the time, a of peace and security. She that where he was there would be warmth, rest, silence; and for the moment they were all she wanted. She her eyes, and these to her....
In the train, the from Creston to Nettleton, the her, and the of being under gave her a energy. She sat upright, Mr. Royall, and out of the window at the country. Forty-eight hours earlier, when she had last it, many of the trees still their leaves; but the high wind of the last two nights had them, and the lines of the landscape' were as as in December. A days of autumn cold had out all of the rich and through which she had passed on the Fourth of July; and with the of the those hours had faded, too. She no longer that she was the being who had them; she was someone to something and had happened, but the of the steps leading up to it had almost vanished.
When the train Nettleton and she walked out into the square at Mr. Royall's the of more overpowering. The physical of the night and day had left no room in her mind for new and she Mr. Royall as as a child. As in a she presently herself with him in a room, at a table with a red and white table-cloth on which food and tea were placed. He her cup and plate and she her from them she his on her with the same that had and her when they had each other in old Mrs. Hobart's kitchen. As else in her more and more and immaterial, more and more like the that the world to eyes, Mr. Royall's presence to itself with from this background. She had always of him—when she of him at all—as of someone and obstructive, but she and when she to make the effort. Only once, on the day of the Old Home Week celebration, while the of his address across her mind, had she a of another being, a being so different from the dull-witted enemy with she had herself to be that through the of her own he had out with distinctness. For a moment, then, what he said—and something in his way of saying it—had her see why he had always her as such a man. But the of her had him again, and she had that impression.
It came to her now, as they sat at the table, and gave her, through her own desolation, a of their to each other. But all these were only of light in the of her physical weakness. Through it she was aware that Mr. Royall presently left her by the table in the warm room, and came after an with a from the station—a closed “hack” with sun-burnt blinds—in which they together to a house with and next to a church with a of it. They got out at this house, and the waited while they walked up the path and entered a and then a room full of books. In this room a Charity had them pleasantly, and asked them to be seated for a minutes while were being summoned.
Charity sat obediently, and Mr. Royall, his hands his back, slowly up and the room. As he and Charity, she noticed that his were a little; but the look in his was and calm. Once he paused her and said timidly: “Your hair's got with the wind,” and she her hands and to the that had from her braid. There was a looking-glass in a on the wall, but she was to look at herself in it, and she sat with her hands on her till the returned. Then they out again, along a of passage, and into a low room with a on an altar, and of benches. The clergyman, who had left them at the door, presently the in a surplice, and a lady who was his wife, and a man in a shirt who had been on the lawn, came in and sat on one of the benches.
The opened a book and to Charity and Mr. Royall to approach. Mr. Royall a steps, and Charity him as she had him to the when they out of Mrs. Hobart's kitchen; she had the that if she to keep close to him, and do what he told her to do, the world would away from her feet.
The to read, and on her mind there rose the memory of Mr. Miles, the night in the house of the Mountain, and reading out of the same book that had the same of finality:
“I and you both, as ye will answer at the day of when the of all shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any ye may not be joined together...”
Charity her and met Mr. Royall's. They were still looking at her and steadily. “I will!” she him say a moment later, after another of that she had failed to catch. She was so trying to the that the was to her to make that she no longer what was being said. After another the lady on the bench up, and taking her hand put it in Mr. Royall's. It in his and she a ring that was too big for her being on her thin finger. She then that she was married....
Late that Charity sat alone in a of the hotel where she and Harney had a table on the Fourth of July. She had been in so a room. The above the dressing-table the high head-board and pillow-slips of the bed, and a so white that she had to her and jacket on it. The an of warmth, and through a half-open door she saw the of the above marble basins.
For a while the long of the night and day had away from her and she sat with closed eyes, herself to the spell of and silence. But presently this was succeeded by the of with which people sometimes wake out of a sleep. As she opened her they rested on the picture that above the bed. It was a large with a white in a wide of bird's-eye with an of gold. The a man in a on a over-hung with trees. He was over to water-lilies for the girl in a light dress who among the in the stern. The was full of a radiance, and Charity her from it and, from her chair, to about the room.
It was on the floor, and its window of plate looked over the of the town. Beyond them a in which the last of were out a gleam. Charity at the with eyes. Even through the she the of the soft it, and the way the to its edge. It was Nettleton Lake that she was looking at.
She a long time in the window out at the water. The of it had her for the time to a of what she had done. Even the of the ring on her hand had not her this of the irretrievable. For an the old of through her; but it was only the of a wing. She the door open her, and Mr. Royall came in.
He had gone to the barber's to be shaved, and his had been and smoothed. He moved and quickly, his and his high, as if he did not want to pass unnoticed.
“What are you doing in the dark?” he called out in a voice. Charity no answer. He up to the window to the blind, and his on the the room with a of light from the chandelier. In this husband and wife each other for a moment; then Mr. Royall said: “We'll step and have some supper, if you say so.”
The of food her with repugnance; but not to it she her and him to the lift.
An hour later, out of the of the dining-room, she waited in the marble-panelled while Mr. Royall, the of one of the counters, a cigar and an paper. Men were in chairs under the chandeliers, travellers and going, ringing, by with luggage. Over Mr. Royall's shoulder, as he against the counter, a girl with her high and at a who was his key at the across the hall.
Charity among these cross-currents of life as and as if she had been one of the tables to the marble floor. All her was up into one of doom, and she Mr. Royall in terror while he the in boxes and his paper with a hand.
Presently he and joined her. “You go right along up to bed—I'm going to here and have my smoke,” he said. He spoke as easily and naturally as if they had been an old couple, long used to each other's ways, and her gave a of relief. She him to the lift, and he put her in and the and boy to her to her room.
She her way in through the darkness, where the electric was, and not how to it. But a white autumn moon had risen, and the sky put a light in the room. By it she undressed, and after up the pillow-slips under the counterpane. She had such or such light warm blankets; but the of the did not her. She there with a that ran through her like ice. “What have I done? Oh, what have I done?” she whispered, to her pillow; and pressing her against it to out the the window she in the her ears, and at every that approached....
Suddenly she sat up and pressed her hands against her heart. A had told her that someone was in the room; but she must have slept in the interval, for she had no one enter. The moon was setting the opposite roofs, and in the against the square of the window, she saw a seated in the rocking-chair. The did not move: it was in the chair, with and arms, and she saw that it was Mr. Royall who sat there. He had not undressed, but had taken the from the of the and it across his knees. Trembling and her she him, that he had been by her movement; but he did not stir, and she that he her to think he was asleep.
As she to watch him slowly over her, her nerves and body. He knew, then... he knew... it was he that he had married her, and that he sat there in the to her she was safe with him. A of something than she had in of him through her brain, and cautiously, noiselessly, she let her on the pillow....
When she the room was full of light, and her her that she was alone in it. She got up and dressed, and as she was her dress the door opened, and Mr. Royall came in. He looked old and in the daylight, but his the same of that had her on the Mountain. It was as if all the dark had gone out of him.
They to the dining-room for breakfast, and after he told her he had some to to. “I while I'm doing it you'd step out and you need.” He smiled, and added with an embarrassed laugh: “You know I always wanted you to all the other girls.” He something from his pocket, and pushed it across the table to her; and she saw that he had her two twenty-dollar bills. “If it ain't there's more where that come from—I want you to 'em all hollow,” he repeated.
She and to out her thanks, but he had pushed his chair and was leading the way out of the dining-room. In the he paused a minute to say that if it her they would take the three o'clock train to North Dormer; then he took his and from the and out.
A minutes later Charity out, too. She had to see in what direction he was going, and she took the opposite way and walked the main to the on the of Lake Avenue. There she paused to look up and the thoroughfare, and then the brass-bound stairs to Dr. Merkle's door. The same bushy-headed girl her, and after the same of waiting in the red she was once more to Dr. Merkle's office. The doctor her without surprise, and her into the sanctuary.
“I you'd be back, but you've come a too soon: I told you to be patient and not fret,” she observed, after a pause of scrutiny.
Charity the money from her breast. “I've come to my brooch,” she said, flushing.
“Your brooch?” Dr. Merkle appeared not to remember. “My, yes—I so many of that kind. Well, my dear, you'll have to wait while I it out of the safe. I don't like that like the noospaper.”
She for a moment, and returned with a of twisted-up paper from which she the brooch.
Charity, as she looked at it, a of at her heart. She out an hand.
“Have you got the change?” she asked a little breathlessly, one of the twenty-dollar on the table.
“Change? What'd I want to have for? I only see two there,” Dr. Merkle answered brightly.
Charity paused, disconcerted. “I thought... you said it was five a visit....”
“For YOU, as a favour—I did. But how about the and the insurance? I don't s'pose you of that? This pin's a hundred easy. If it had got or stole, where'd I been when you come to it?”
Charity silent, puzzled and half-convinced by the argument, and Dr. Merkle up her advantage. “I didn't ask you for your brooch, my dear. I'd a good paid me my regular than have 'em put me to all this trouble.”
She paused, and Charity, with a to escape, rose to her and out one of the bills.
“Will you take that?” she asked.
“No, I won't take that, my dear; but I'll take it with its mate, and hand you over a receipt if you don't trust me.”
“Oh, but I can't—it's all I've got,” Charity exclaimed.
Dr. Merkle looked up at her from the sofa. “It you got married yesterday, up to the 'Piscopal church; I all about the wedding from the minister's chore-man. It would be a pity, wouldn't it, to let Mr. Royall know you had an account here? I just put it to you as your own mother might.”
Anger up in Charity, and for an she of the and Dr. Merkle do her worst. But how she her only with that woman? She wanted it for her baby: she meant it, in some way, to be a link Harney's child and its unknown father. Trembling and herself while she did it, she Mr. Royall's money on the table, and up the out of the room and the house....
In the she still, by this last adventure. But the in her like a talisman, and she a of heart. It gave her strength, after a moment, to walk on slowly in the direction of the post office, and go in through the doors. At one of the she a of letter-paper, an and a stamp; then she sat at a table and the post office pen in ink. She had come there with a which had her since she had Mr. Royall's ring on her finger: the that Harney might, after all, free himself and come to her. It was a possibility which had to her the hours after she had his letter; only when the step she had taken turn to did such a conceivable. She the envelope, and on the of paper she wrote:
I'm married to Mr. Royall. I'll always you. CHARITY.
The last were not in the least what she had meant to write; they had from her pen irresistibly. She had not had the to complete her sacrifice; but, after all, what did it matter? Now that there was no of Harney again, why should she not tell him the truth?
When she had put the in the box she out into the and to walk to the hotel. Behind the of the stores she noticed the of and dress-materials that had her on the day when she and Harney had looked in at them together. They her of Mr. Royall's to go out and all she needed. She looked at her dress, and what she should say when he saw her empty-handed. As she near the hotel she saw him waiting on the doorstep, and her to with apprehension.
He and his hand at her approach, and they walked through the and to their possessions, so that Mr. Royall might give up the key of the room when they again for their dinner. In the bedroom, while she was into the the she had away with her, she that his were on her and that he was going to speak. She still, her half-folded night-gown in her hand, while the blood up to her cheeks.
“Well, did you out handsomely? I haven't any round,” he said jocosely.
“Oh, I'd let Ally Hawes make the I want,” she answered.
“That so?” He looked at her for a moment and his eye-brows in a scowl. Then his again. “Well, I wanted you to go looking than any of them; but I you're right. You're a good girl, Charity.”
Their met, and something rose in his that she had there: a look that her and yet secure.
“I you're good, too,” she said, and quickly. He without answering, and they out of the room together and to the in the lift.
Late that evening, in the cold autumn moonlight, they up to the door of the red house.
