by H. G. Wells
thought of people I had been merry with, people I had worked with
and played with, the companions of talkative walks, the hostesses of
houses that had once glowed with welcome for us both. I perceived
we must lose them all. I saw life like a tree in late autumn that
had once been rich and splendid with friends-and now the last brave
dears would be hanging on doubtfully against the frosty chill of
facts, twisting and tortured in the universal gale of indignation,
trying to evade the cold blast of the truth. I had betrayed my
party, my intimate friend, my wife, the wife whose devotion had made
me what I was. For awhile the figure of Margaret, remote, wounded,
shamed, dominated my mind, and the thought of my immense
ingratitude. Damn them! they'd take it out of her too. I had a
feeling that I wanted to go straight back and grip some one by the
throat, some one talking ill of Margaret. They'd blame her for not
keeping me, for letting things go so far… I wanted the whole
world to know how fine she was. I saw in imagination the busy,
excited dinner tables at work upon us all, rather pleasantly
excited, brightly indignant, merciless.
Well, it's the stuff we are!…
Then suddenly, stabbing me to the heart, came a vision of Margaret's
tears and the sound of her voice saying, "Husband mine! Oh! husband
mine! To see you cry!"…
I came out of a cloud of thoughts to discover the narrow
compartment, with its feeble lamp overhead, and our rugs and hand-
baggage swaying on the rack, and Isabel, very still in front of me,
gripping my wilting red roses tightly in her bare and ringless hand.
For a moment I could not understand her attitude, and then I
perceived she was sitting bent together with her head averted from
the light to hide the tears that were streaming down her face. She
had not got her handkerchief out for fear that I should see this,
but I saw her tears, dark drops of tears, upon her sleeve…
I suppose she had been watching my expression, divining my thoughts.
For a time I stared at her and was motionless, in a sort of still
and weary amazement. Why had we done this injury to one another?
WHY? Then something stirred within me.
"ISABEL!" I whispered.
She made no sign.
"Isabel!" I repeated, and then crossed over to her and crept closely
to her, put my arm about her, and drew her wet cheek to mine.
The End
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