The Fruit of the Tree

by Edith Wharton

  XXIII

  JUSTINE was coming back to Lynbrook. She had been, after all, unable tostay out the ten days of her visit: the undefinable sense of beingneeded, so often the determining motive of her actions, drew her back toLong Island at the end of the week. She had received no word fromAmherst or Bessy; only Cicely had told her, in a big round hand, thatmother had been away three days, and that it had been very lonely, andthat the housekeeper's cat had kittens, and she was to have one; andwere kittens christened, or how did they get their names?--because shewanted to call hers Justine; and she had found in her book a bird likethe one father had shown them in the swamp; and they were not alone now,because the Telfers were there, and they had all been out sleighing;but it would be much nicer when Justine came back....

  It was as difficult to extract any sequence of facts from Cicely'sletter as from an early chronicle. She made no reference to Amherst'sreturn, which was odd, since she was fond of her step-father, yet notsignificant, since the fact of his arrival might have been crowded outby the birth of the kittens, or some incident equally prominent in herperspectiveless grouping of events; nor did she name the date of hermother's departure, so that Justine could not guess whether it had beencontingent on Amherst's return, or wholly unconnected with it. Whatpuzzled her most was Bessy's own silence--yet that too, in a sense, wasreassuring, for Bessy thought of others chiefly when it was painful tothink of herself, and her not writing implied that she had felt nopresent need of her friend's sympathy.

  Justine did not expect to find Amherst at Lynbrook. She had feltconvinced, when they parted, that he would persist in his plan of goingsouth; and the fact that the Telfer girls were again in possession madeit seem probable that he had already left. Under the circumstances,Justine thought the separation advisable; but she was eager to beassured that it had been effected amicably, and without open affront toBessy's pride.

  She arrived on a Saturday afternoon, and when she entered the house thesound of voices from the drawing-room, and the prevailing sense ofbustle and movement amid which her own coming was evidently anunconsidered detail, showed that the normal life of Lynbrook had resumedits course. The Telfers, as usual, had brought a lively throng in theirtrain; and amid the bursts of merriment about the drawing-room tea-tableshe caught Westy Gaines's impressive accents, and the screaming laughterof Blanche Carbury....

  So Blanche Carbury was back at Lynbrook! The discovery gave Justinefresh cause for conjecture. Whatever reciprocal concessions might haveresulted from Amherst's return to his wife, it seemed hardly probablethat they included a renewal of relations with Mrs. Carbury. Had hismission failed then--had he and Bessy parted in anger, and was Mrs.Carbury's presence at Lynbrook Bessy's retort to his assertion ofindependence?

  In the school-room, where Justine was received with the eager outpouringof Cicely's minutest experiences, she dared not put the question thatwould have solved these doubts; and she left to dress for dinner withoutknowing whether Amherst had returned to Lynbrook. Yet in her heart shenever questioned that he had done so; all her fears revolved about whathad since taken place.

  She saw Bessy first in the drawing-room, surrounded by her guests; andtheir brief embrace told her nothing, except that she had never beheldher friend more brilliant, more triumphantly in possession of recoveredspirits and health.

  That Amherst was absent was now made evident by Bessy's requesting WestyGaines to lead the way to the dining-room with Mrs. Ansell, who was oneof the reassembled visitors; and the only one, as Justine presentlyobserved, not in key with the prevailing gaiety. Mrs. Ansell, usually sotinged with the colours of her environment, preserved on this occasion agrey neutrality of tone which was the only break in the generalbrightness. It was not in her graceful person to express anything asgross as disapproval, yet that sentiment was manifest, to the niceobserver, in a delicate aloofness which made the waves of laughter fallback from her, and spread a circle of cloudy calm about her end of thetable. Justine had never been greatly drawn to Mrs. Ansell. Her ownadaptability was not in the least akin to the older woman's studiedself-effacement; and the independence of judgment which Justinepreserved in spite of her perception of divergent standpoints made her alittle contemptuous of an excess of charity that seemed to have beenacquired at the cost of all individual convictions. To-night for thefirst time she felt in Mrs. Ansell a secret sympathy with her ownfears; and a sense of this tacit understanding made her examine withsudden interest the face of her unexpected ally.... After all, what didshe know of Mrs. Ansell's history--of the hidden processes which hadgradually subdued her own passions and desires, making of her, as itwere, a mere decorative background, a connecting link between otherpersonalities? Perhaps, for a woman alone in the world, without thepower and opportunity that money gives, there was no alternative betweenletting one's individuality harden into a small dry nucleus of egoism,or diffuse itself thus in the interstices of other lives--and there fellupon Justine the chill thought that just such a future might await herif she missed the liberating gift of personal happiness....

  * * * * *

  Neither that night nor the next day had she a private word withBessy--and it became evident, as the hours passed, that Mrs. Amherst wasdeliberately postponing the moment when they should find themselvesalone. But the Lynbrook party was to disperse on the Monday; and Bessy,who hated early rising, and all the details of housekeeping, tapped atJustine's door late on Sunday night to ask her to speed the departingvisitors.

  She pleaded this necessity as an excuse for her intrusion, and theplayful haste of her manner showed a nervous shrinking from any renewalof confidence; but as she leaned in the doorway, fingering the diamondchain about her neck, while one satin-tipped foot emerged restlesslyfrom the edge of her lace gown, her face lost the bloom of animationwhich talk and laughter always produced in it, and she looked so paleand weary that Justine needed no better pretext for drawing her into theroom.

  It was not in Bessy to resist a soothing touch in her moments of nervousreaction. She sank into the chair by the fire and let her head restwearily against the cushion which Justine slipped behind it.

  Justine dropped into the low seat beside her, and laid a hand on hers."You don't look as well as when I went away, Bessy. Are you sure you'vedone wisely in beginning your house-parties so soon?"

  It always alarmed Bessy to be told that she was not looking her best,and she sat upright, a wave of pink rising under her sensitive skin.

  "I am quite well, on the contrary; but I was dying of inanition in thisbig empty house, and I suppose I haven't got the boredom out of mysystem yet!"

  Justine recognized the echo of Mrs. Carbury's manner.

  "Even if you _were_ bored," she rejoined, "the inanition was probablygood for you. What does Dr. Wyant say to your breaking away from hisregime?" She named Wyant purposely, knowing that Bessy had that respectfor the medical verdict which is the last trace of reverence forauthority in the mind of the modern woman. But Mrs. Amherst laughed withgentle malice.

  "Oh, I haven't seen Dr. Wyant lately. His interest in me died out theday you left."

  Justine forced a laugh to hide her annoyance. She had not yet recoveredfrom the shrinking disgust of her last scene with Wyant.

  "Don't be a goose, Bessy. If he hasn't come, it must be because you'vetold him not to--because you're afraid of letting him see that you'redisobeying him."

  Bessy laughed again. "My dear, I'm afraid of nothing--nothing! Not evenof your big eyes when they glare at me like coals. I suppose you musthave looked at poor Wyant like that to frighten him away! And yet thelast time we talked of him you seemed to like him--you even hinted thatit was because of him that Westy had no chance."

  Justine uttered an impatient exclamation. "If neither of them existed itwouldn't affect the other's chances in the least. Their only merit isthat they both enhance the charms of celibacy!"

  Bessy's smile dropped, and she turned a grave glance on her friend. "Ah,most men do that--you're so clever to have
found it out!"

  It was Justine's turn to smile. "Oh, but I haven't--as ageneralization. I mean to marry as soon as I get the chance!"

  "The chance----?"

  "To meet the right man. I'm gambler enough to believe in my luck yet!"

  Mrs. Amherst sighed compassionately. "There _is_ no right man! AsBlanche says, matrimony's as uncomfortable as a ready-made shoe. How canone and the same institution fit every individual case? And why shouldwe all have to go lame because marriage was once invented to suit animaginary case?"

  Justine gave a slight shrug. "You talk of walking lame--how else do weall walk? It seems to me that life's the tight boot, and marriage thecrutch that may help one to hobble along!" She drew Bessy's hand intohers with a caressing pressure. "When you philosophize I always knowyou're tired. No one who feels well stops to generalize about symptoms.If you won't let your doctor prescribe for you, your nurse is going tocarry out his orders. What you want is quiet. Be reasonable and sendaway everybody before Mr. Amherst comes back!"

  She dropped the last phrase carelessly, glancing away as she spoke; butthe stiffening of the fingers in her clasp sent a little tremor throughher hand.

  "Thanks for your advice. It would be excellent but for one thing--myhusband is not coming back!"

  The mockery in Bessy's voice seemed to pass into her features, hardeningand contracting them as frost shrivels a flower. Justine's face, on thecontrary, was suddenly illuminated by compassion, as though a light hadstruck up into it from the cold glitter of her friend's unhappiness.

  "Bessy! What do you mean by not coming back?"

  "I mean he's had the tact to see that we shall be more comfortableapart--without putting me to the unpleasant necessity of telling himso."

  Again the piteous echo of Blanche Carbury's phrases! The labouredmimicry of her ideas!

  Justine looked anxiously at her friend. It seemed horribly false not tomention her own talk with Amherst, yet she felt it wiser to feignignorance, since Bessy could never be trusted to interpret rightly anydeparture from the conventional.

  "Please tell me what has happened," she said at length.

  Bessy, with a smile, released her hand. "John has gone back to the lifehe prefers--which I take to be a hint to me to do the same."

  Justine hesitated again; then the pressure of truth overcame everybarrier of expediency. "Bessy--I ought to tell you that I saw Mr.Amherst in town the day I went to Philadelphia. He spoke of going awayfor a time...he seemed unhappy...but he told me he was coming back tosee you first--" She broke off, her clear eyes on her friend's; and shesaw at once that Bessy was too self-engrossed to feel any surprise ather avowal. "Surely he came back?" she went on.

  "Oh, yes--he came back!" Bessy sank into the cushions, watching thefirelight play on her diamond chain as she repeated the restless gestureof lifting it up and letting it slip through her fingers.

  "Well--and then?"

  "Then--nothing! I was not here when he came."

  "You were not here? What had happened?"

  "I had gone over to Blanche Carbury's for a day or two. I was justleaving when I heard he was coming back, and I couldn't throw her overat the last moment."

  Justine tried to catch the glance that fluttered evasively under Bessy'slashes. "You knew he was coming--and you chose that time to go to Mrs.Carbury's?"

  "I didn't choose, my dear--it just happened! And it really happened forthe best. I suppose he was annoyed at my going--you know he has aridiculous prejudice against Blanche--and so the next morning he rushedoff to his cotton mill."

  There was a pause, while the diamonds continued to flow in threads offire through Mrs. Amherst's fingers.

  At length Justine said: "Did Mr. Amherst know that you knew he wascoming back before you left for Mrs. Carbury's?"

  Bessy feigned to meditate the question. "Did he know that I knew that heknew?" she mocked. "Yes--I suppose so--he must have known." She stifleda slight yawn as she drew herself languidly to her feet.

  "Then he took that as your answer?"

  "My answer----?"

  "To his coming back----"

  "So it appears. I told you he had shown unusual tact." Bessy stretchedher softly tapering arms above her head and then dropped them along hersides with another yawn. "But it's almost morning--it's wicked of me tohave kept you so late, when you must be up to look after all thosepeople!"

  She flung her arms with a light gesture about Justine's shoulders, andlaid a dry kiss on her cheek.

  "Don't look at me with those big eyes--they've eaten up the whole ofyour face! And you needn't think I'm sorry for what I've done," shedeclared. "I'm _not_--the--least--little--atom--of a bit!"