them were inseparable, spending most of their time out of doors as the brilliant New England summer days ripened toward fall, and already both of them looked the better for it.
Sometimes he asked himself, as he watched them chasing each other across the lawn and in and out among the locust trees by the river, what it was they had in common. Something there was, he felt sure. Kate was good for Sarah because of some deep need of her own that complemented Sarah ’ s. Or was he being absurd? Very likely. But his rash act was justified a thousand times by results. Sarah had actually put o n a little weight; the bones were less obvious in her face, and her bouts of senseless, horrible screaming were rarer.
Kate remarked on it timidly, over dinner one still night of early September. “ Don ’ t you think she ’ s better? ”
There was something rather touching about the appeal for praise. “ I really think she is. A little. ” He reproached himself, afterward, for his caution. Why not give her the encouragement she deserved? After all, she had been with them three months now. It was time to stop thinking in terms of a trial and make a permanent arrangement. If only he could bring himself to ask her about her past, to clear up the nagging little doubt that recurred every time he found her poring over the newspaper accounts of the war.
Of course it was natural enough that she should do so. But always, when he tried to tell himself this, he was stopped by memory of her frantic tone, back in York, when she had begged him to take her away. “ There ’ s someone ... someone in the 98th. If I have to meet him again, I think I ’ ll die. ” Surely no innocent relationship could have left such a legacy of terror?
And yet—did he really want to know about it? Was it this, in fact, that dried the questions on his lips? Whatever shadow lay over Kate Croston ’ s past, there was no question that in the present she was what Sarah needed.
But it irked him. It was against all his practical businessman ’ s instincts. Problems should be faced, doubts resolved, issues brought out into the open. He was brooding about this as he walked the short way home from the factory next day. Usually, Sarah would come flying out when she saw him, with Kate smiling behind her. Today there was no sign of them and he knew one of those instant pangs of almost unbearable fear to which he had become accustomed since Sarah ’ s illness. He took the porch steps at a bound and was instantly aware of bustle in the house, of a distinctive, heavy perfume in the air. Arabella.
“ Well, Jonathan. ” She was standing, golden, impassive, more beautiful than ever, in the wide doorway of the drawing room.
“ Well, Arabella? ”
She looked him up and down with that mocking half - smile of hers. “ Don ’ t you think, my love, that a speech of delighted surprise would be in order? ”
He looked down the hall. No servant in sight, but still no need to conduct this conversation so publicly. He ushered her into the drawing room. “ Surprise, certainly. But if you expect delight ...” He closed the door. “ I thought we agreed, when you insisted on going, that you would stay in Boston until I advised your return. ”
“ Yes. ” Her voice was mocking. “ So we did. To give Mrs. Croston a chance to get acquainted with Sarah. I think I must be very stupid, Jonathan. It had not occurred to me that I was giving her a chance to get acquainted with you. ”
“ Oh? ” He looked at it for a moment from all angles. Then, “ Someone has been gossiping? Mrs. Peters, I suppose. ”
“ Gossip! ” She made it a challenge, then seemed to think better of it. “ Based on nothing, of course. You only have to look at the poor little mouse. ” A sideways glance enjoyed her own reflection in the big looking glass over the fire. “ No; Mrs. Peters has said nothing; to me, at any rate. Frankly, I should think better of her if she had. But there ’ s talk in Boston
Sometimes he asked himself, as he watched them chasing each other across the lawn and in and out among the locust trees by the river, what it was they had in common. Something there was, he felt sure. Kate was good for Sarah because of some deep need of her own that complemented Sarah ’ s. Or was he being absurd? Very likely. But his rash act was justified a thousand times by results. Sarah had actually put o n a little weight; the bones were less obvious in her face, and her bouts of senseless, horrible screaming were rarer.
Kate remarked on it timidly, over dinner one still night of early September. “ Don ’ t you think she ’ s better? ”
There was something rather touching about the appeal for praise. “ I really think she is. A little. ” He reproached himself, afterward, for his caution. Why not give her the encouragement she deserved? After all, she had been with them three months now. It was time to stop thinking in terms of a trial and make a permanent arrangement. If only he could bring himself to ask her about her past, to clear up the nagging little doubt that recurred every time he found her poring over the newspaper accounts of the war.
Of course it was natural enough that she should do so. But always, when he tried to tell himself this, he was stopped by memory of her frantic tone, back in York, when she had begged him to take her away. “ There ’ s someone ... someone in the 98th. If I have to meet him again, I think I ’ ll die. ” Surely no innocent relationship could have left such a legacy of terror?
And yet—did he really want to know about it? Was it this, in fact, that dried the questions on his lips? Whatever shadow lay over Kate Croston ’ s past, there was no question that in the present she was what Sarah needed.
But it irked him. It was against all his practical businessman ’ s instincts. Problems should be faced, doubts resolved, issues brought out into the open. He was brooding about this as he walked the short way home from the factory next day. Usually, Sarah would come flying out when she saw him, with Kate smiling behind her. Today there was no sign of them and he knew one of those instant pangs of almost unbearable fear to which he had become accustomed since Sarah ’ s illness. He took the porch steps at a bound and was instantly aware of bustle in the house, of a distinctive, heavy perfume in the air. Arabella.
“ Well, Jonathan. ” She was standing, golden, impassive, more beautiful than ever, in the wide doorway of the drawing room.
“ Well, Arabella? ”
She looked him up and down with that mocking half - smile of hers. “ Don ’ t you think, my love, that a speech of delighted surprise would be in order? ”
He looked down the hall. No servant in sight, but still no need to conduct this conversation so publicly. He ushered her into the drawing room. “ Surprise, certainly. But if you expect delight ...” He closed the door. “ I thought we agreed, when you insisted on going, that you would stay in Boston until I advised your return. ”
“ Yes. ” Her voice was mocking. “ So we did. To give Mrs. Croston a chance to get acquainted with Sarah. I think I must be very stupid, Jonathan. It had not occurred to me that I was giving her a chance to get acquainted with you. ”
“ Oh? ” He looked at it for a moment from all angles. Then, “ Someone has been gossiping? Mrs. Peters, I suppose. ”
“ Gossip! ” She made it a challenge, then seemed to think better of it. “ Based on nothing, of course. You only have to look at the poor little mouse. ” A sideways glance enjoyed her own reflection in the big looking glass over the fire. “ No; Mrs. Peters has said nothing; to me, at any rate. Frankly, I should think better of her if she had. But there ’ s talk in Boston
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