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“David would not be impolite,” said Aunt Amelia, after a suitable pause in which Marcia felt disapprobation in the air. “It would be best for us to send it. David’s health might suffer if he was not suitably nourished.” Marcia’s cheeks grew redder. Bread had been one of her stepmother’s strong points, well infused into her young pupil.
The momentary glance did not show the haggard look of David’s face nor the lines that his vigil of the night before had traced under his eyes, and Kate was angered to see him so unconcerned and forgetful of his pain of yesterday. Her face darkened with spite, and she resolved to make him suffer yet, and to the utmost, for the sin of forgetting her.
It needed but the word to send the vexed and curious Squire around through the crowd to a spot directly behind David’s carriage, and there Miranda could see quite well, and Kate could sit and watch David and frame her plans for immediate action so soon as the curtain should fall upon this ridiculous engine play over which everybody was wild.
All the foliage was out and fluttering its new leaves in the sunshine as Marcia passed from the old stone church with the two aunts and opened her little green sunshade. Her motion made David’s last letter rustle in her bosom. It thrilled her with pleasure that not even the presence of Hannah Heath behind her could cloud.
If ever a woman had a snap! and to go to work and let a man get around her like that.” Mrs. Worthington seemed powerless to express herself in anything but disconnected exclamations. “What are you going to do, Fanny?” asked Lou, who having aired all the astonishment which she cared to show, in her whistle, was collected enough to want her natural curiosity satisfied. “David’s living down South.
But the impression lasted long enough to carry them a rod or two past the Heath house at a swift pace, with only time for a lifting of David’s hat, prolonged politely,—which might or might not have included Kate, and they were out upon their way together.
Perfectly courteous were David’s tones, keen command was in his eye and determination in every line of his face. Harry could not recover himself to reply, could not master his frenzy of anger and humiliation to face the righteous look of his accuser. Before he realized it, David was gone. He stood by the window and watched him go down the street with rapid, firm tread and upright bearing.
He was directly behind Marcia, and she turned her head and looked straight into his fiery frightened eyes, red with fear and frenzy, and felt his hot breath upon her cheek. A man was trying most ineffectually to hold him, but it seemed as if in another minute he would come plunging into the seat with them. Marcia uttered a frightened cry and clutched at David’s arm.
That had been her happy task ever since David had worn a shirt, and she hoped to hold the position of shirt-maker to David until she left this mortal clay. Therefore Aunt Hortense was not pleased, even though David’s wife was not lacking, and, too, even though she foreheard herself telling her neighbors next day how many shirts David’s wife had made.
She knew, as well now as she ever had known, that he could never be anything to her, but she knew also, or thought she knew, that he could have given her something, in his clumsy way, that now she could never have from any man, seeing she was David’s and David could not love her that way, of course.
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