the pit-第49部分

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of　a　little　girl；　with　my　frock　torn　and　my　hands　all　scratched　with　the　berry　bushes。〃

She　had　begun　by　dramatising；　but　by　now　she　was　actingacting　with　all　her　histrionic　power　at　fullest　stretch；　acting　the　part　of　a　woman　unhappy　amid　luxuries；　who　looked　back　with　regret　and　with　longing　towards　a　joyous；　simple　childhood。　　She　was　sincere　and　she　was　not　sincere。　　Part　of　herone　of　those　two　Laura　Jadwins　who　at　different　times；　but　with　equal　right　called　themselves　〃I；〃　knew　just　what　effect　her　words；　her　pose；　would　have　upon　a　man　who　sympathised　with　her；　who　loved　her。　　But　the　other　Laura　Jadwin　would　have　resented　as　petty；　as　even　wrong；　the　insinuation　that　she　was　not　wholly；　thoroughly　sincere。　　All　that　she　was　saying　was　true。　　No　one；　so　she　believed；　ever　was　placed　before　as　she　was　placed　now。　　No　one　had　ever　spoken　as　now　she　spoke。　　Her　chin　upon　one　slender　finger；　she　went　on；　her　eyes　growing　wide：

〃If　I　had　only　known　then　that　those　days　were　to　be；　the　happiest　of　my　life。。。。　　This　great　house；　all　the　beauty　of　it；　and　all　this　wealth；　what　does　it　amount　to？〃　Her　voice　was　the　voice　of　Phedre；　and　the　gesture　of　lassitude　with　which　she　let　her　arms　fall　into　her　lap　was　precisely　that　which　only　the　day　before　she　had　used　to　accompany　Portia's　plaint　of


　　　　　my　little　body　is　a…weary　of　this　great　world。


Yet；　at　the　same　time；　Laura　knew　that　her　heart　was　genuinely　aching　with　real　sadness；　and　that　the　tears　which　stood　in　her　eyes　were　as　sincere　as　any　she　had　ever　shed。

〃All　this　wealth；〃　she　continued；　her　head　dropping　back　upon　the　cushion　of　the　chair　as　she　spoke；　〃what　does　it　matter；　for　what　does　it　compensate？　　Oh；　I　would　give　it　all　gladly；　gladly；　to　be　that　little　black…haired　girl　again；　back　in　Squire　Dearborn's　water　lot；　with　my　hands　stained　with　the　whortle…　berries　and　the　nettles　in　my　fingersand　my　little　lover；　who　called　me　his　beau…heart　and　bought　me　a　blue　hair　ribbon；　and　kissed　me　behind　the　pump　house。〃

〃Ah；〃　said　Corthell；　quickly　and　earnestly；　〃that　is　the　secret。　　It　was　loveeven　the　foolish　boy　and　girl　lovelove　that　after　all　made　your　life　sweet　then。〃

She　let　her　hands　fall　into　her　lap；　and；　musing；　turned　the　rings　back　and　forth　upon　her　fingers。

〃Don't　you　think　so？〃　he　asked；　in　a　low　voice。

She　bent　her　head　slowly；　without　replying。　　Then　for　a　long　moment　neither　spoke。　　Laura　played　with　her　rings。　　The　artist；　leaning　forward　in　his　chair；　looked　with　vague　eyes　across　the　room。　　And　no　interval　of　time　since　his　return；　no　words　that　had　ever　passed　between　them；　had　been　so　fraught　with　significance；　so　potent　in　drawing　them　together　as　this　brief；　wordless　moment。

At　last　Corthell　turned　towards　her。

〃You　must　not　think；〃　he　murmured；　〃that　your　life　is　without　love　now。　　I　will　not　have　you　believe　that。〃

But　she　made　no　answer。

〃If　you　would　only　see；〃　he　went　on。　　〃If　you　would　only　condescend　to　look；　you　would　know　that　there　is　a　love　which　has　enfolded　your　life　for　years。　　You　have　shut　it　out　from　you　always。　　But　it　has　been　yours；　just　the　same；　it　has　lain　at　your　door；　it　has　looked　oh；　God　knows　with　what　longing！through　your　windows。　　You　have　never　stirred　abroad　that　it　has　not　followed　you。　　Not　a　footprint　of　yours　that　it　does　not　know　and　cherish。　　Do　you　think　that　your　life　is　without　love？　　Why；　it　is　all　around　youall　around　you　but　voiceless。　　It　has　no　right　to　speak；　it　only　has　the　right　to　suffer。〃

Still　Laura　said　no　word。　　Her　head　turned　from　him；　she　looked　out　of　the　window；　and　once　more　the　seconds　passed　while　neither　spoke。　　The　clock　on　the　table　ticked　steadily。　　In　the　distance；　through　the　open　window；　came　the　incessant；　mournful　wash　of　the　lake。　All　around　them　the　house　was　still。　　At　length　Laura　sat　upright　in　her　chair。

〃I　think　I　will　have　this　room　done　over　while　we　are　away　this　summer；〃　she　said。　　〃Don't　you　think　it　would　be　effective　if　the　wainscotting　went　almost　to　the　ceiling？〃

He　glanced　critically　about　the　room。

〃Very；〃　he　answered；　briskly。　　〃There　is　no　background　so　beautiful　as　wood。〃

〃And　I　might　finish　it　off　at　the　top　with　a　narrow　shelf。〃

〃Provided　you　promised　not　to　put　brass　'plaques'　or　pewter　kitchen　ware　upon　it。〃

〃Do　smoke；〃　she　urged　him。　　〃I　know　you　want　to。　　You　will　find　matches　on　the　table。〃

But　Corthell；　as　he　lit　his　cigarette；　produced　his　own　match　box。　　It　was　a　curious　bit　of　antique　silver；　which　he　had　bought　in　a　Viennese　pawnshop；　heart…　shaped　and　topped　with　a　small　ducal　coronet　of　worn　gold。　　On　one　side　he　had　caused　his　name　to　be　engraved　in　small　script。　　Now。　　as　Laura　admired　it；　he　held　it　towards　her。

〃An　old　pouncet…box；　I　believe；〃　he　informed　her；　〃or　possibly　it　held　an　ointment　for　her　finger　nails。〃　　He　spilled　the　matches　into　his　hand。　　〃You　see　the　red　stain　still　on　the　inside；　andsmell；〃　he　added；　as　she　took　it　from　him。　　〃Even　the　odour　of　the　sulphur　matches　cannot　smother　the　quaint　old　perfume；　distilled　perhaps　three　centuries　ago。〃

An　hour　later　Corthell　left　her。　　She　did　not　follow　him　further　than　the　threshold　of　the　room；　but　let　him　find　his　way　to　the　front　door　alone。

When　he　had　gone　she　returned　to　the　room；　and　for　a　little　while　sat　in　her　accustomed　place　by　the　window　overlooking　the　park　and　the　lake。　　Very　soon　after　Corthell's　departure　she　heard　Page；　Landry　Court；　and　Mrs。　Wessels　come　in；　then　at　length　rousing　from　her　reverie　she　prepared　for　bed。　　But；　as　she　passed　the　round　mahogany　table；　on　her　way　to　her　bedroom；　she　was　aware　of　a　little　object　lying　upon　it；　near　to　where　she　had　sat。

〃Oh；　he　forgot　it；〃　she　murmured；　as　she　picked　up　Corthell's　heart…shaped　match　box。　　She　glanced　at　it　a　moment；　indifferently；　but　her　mind　was　full　of　other　things。　　She　laid　it　down　again　upon　the　table；　and　going　on　to　her　own　room；　went　to　bed。

Jadwin　did　not　come　home　that　night；　and　in　the　morning　Laura　presided　at　breakfast　table　in　his　place。　　Landry　Court；　Page；　and　Aunt　Wess'　were　there；　for　occasionally　nowadays；　when　the　trio　went　to　one　of　their　interminable　concerts　or　lectures；　Landry　stayed　over　night　at　the　house。

〃Any　message　for　your　husband；　Mrs。　Jadwin？〃　inquired　Landry；　as　he　prepared　to　go　down　town　after　breakfast。　〃I　always　see　him　in　Mr。　Gretry's　office　the　first　thing。　　Any　message　for　him？〃

〃No；〃　answered　Laura；　simply。

〃Oh；　by　the　way；〃　spoke　up　Aunt　Wess'；　〃we　met　that　Mr。　Corthell　on　the　corner　last　night；　just　as　he　was　leaving。　　I　was　real　sorry　not　to　get　home　here　before　he　left。　　I've　never　heard　him　play　on　that　big　organ；　and　I've　been　wanting　to　for　ever　so　long。　　I　hurried　home　last　night；　hoping　I　might　have　caught　him　before　he　left。　　I　was　regularly　disappointed。〃

〃That's　too　bad；〃　murmured　Laura；　and　then；　for　obscure　reasons；　she　had　the　stupidity　to　add：　〃And　we　were　in　the　art　gallery　the　whole　evening。　　He　played　beautifully。〃

Towards　eleven　o'clock　that　morning　Laura　took　her　usual　ride；　but　she　had　not　been　away　from　the　house　quite　an　hour　before　she　turned　back。

All　at　once　she　had　remembered　something。　　She　returned　homeward；　now　urging　Crusader　to　a　flying　gallop；　now　curbing　him　to　his　slowest　ambling　walk。　　That　which　had　so　abruptly　presented　itself　to　her　mind　was　the　fact　that　Corthell's　match　boxhis　name　engraved　across　its　frontstill　lay　in　plain　sight　upon　the　table　in　her　sitting…roomthe　peculiar　and　particular　place　of　her　privacy。

It　was　so　much　her　own；　this　room；　that　she　had　given　orders　that　the　servants　were　to　ignore　it　in　their　day's　routine。　　She　looked　after　its　order　herself。　Yet；　for　all　that；　the　maids　or　the　housekeeper　often　passed　through　it；　on　their　way　to　the　suite　beyond；　and　occasionally　Page　or　Aunt　Wess'　came　there　to　read；　in　her　absence。　　The　family　spoke　of　the　place　sometimes　as　the　〃upstairs　sitting…room；〃　sometimes　simply　as　〃Laura's　room。〃

Now；　as　she　cantered　homeward；　Laura　had　it　vividly　in　her　mind　that　she　had　not　so　much　as　glanced　at　the　room　before　leaving　the　house　that　morning。　　The　servants　would　not　touch　the　place。　　But　it　was　quite　possible　that　Aunt　Wess'　or　Page

Laura；　the　blood　mounting　to　her　forehead；　struck　the　horse　sharply　with　her　crop。　　The　pettiness　of　the　predicament；　the　small　meanness　of　her　situation　struck　across　her　face　like　the　flagellations　of　tiny　whips。　That　she　should　stoop　to　this！　She　who　had　held　her　head　so　high。

Abruptly　she　reined　in　the　horse　again。　　No；　she　would　not　hurry。　　Exercising　all　her　self…control；　she　went　on　her　way　with　deliberate　slowness；　so　that　it　was　past　twelve　o'clock　when　she　dismounted　under　the　carriage　porch。

Her　fingers　clutched　tightly　about　her　crop；　she　mounted　to　her　sitting…room　and　entered；　closing　the　door　behind　her；

She　went　directly　to　the　table；　and　then；　catching　her　breath；　with　a　quick；　apprehensive　sinking　of　the　heart；　stopped　short。　　The　little　heart…shaped　match　box　was　gone；　and　on　the　couch　in　the　corner　of　the　room　Page；　her　book　fallen　to　the　floor　beside　her；　lay　curled　up　and　asleep。

A　loop　of　her　riding…habit　over　her　arm；　the　toe　of　her　boot　tapping　the　floor　nervously；　Laura　stood　motionless　in　the　centre　of　the　room；　her　lips　tight　pressed；　the　fingers　of　one　gloved　hand　drumming　rapidly　upon　her　riding…crop。　　She　was　bewildered；　and　an　anxiety　cruelly　poignant；　a　dread　of　something　she　could　not　name；　gripped　suddenly　at　her　throat。

Could　she　have　been　mistaken？　　Was　it　upon　the　table　that　she　had　seen　the　match　box　after　all？　　If　it　lay　elsewhere　about　the　room；　she　must　find　it　at　once。　Never　had　she　felt　so　degraded　as　now；　when；　moving　with　such　softness　and　swiftness　as　she　could　in　her　agitation　command；　she　went　here　and　there　about　the　room；　peering　into　the　corners　of　her　desk；　searching　upon　the　floor；　upon　the　chairs；　everywhere；　anywhere；　her　face　crimson；　her　breath　failing　her；　her　hands　opening　and　shutting。

But　the　silver　heart　with　its　crown　of　worn　gold　was　not　to　be　found。　　Laura；　at　the　end　of　half　an　hour；　was　obliged　to　give　over　searching。　　She　was　certain　the　match　box　lay　upon　the　mahogany　table　when　last　she　left　the　room。　　It　had　not　been　mislaid；　of　that　she　was　now　pers