A Bachelor Husband Part 32

"Here we are!" he said cheerily. "And there she is at the window."

He waved his hand to Miss Chester, and turned to see about the luggage. Marie went on into the house.

"My darling child!" She was clasped in Miss Chester's arms and fervently kissed. "How glad I am to see you again! And have you had a happy time?"

"Of course we have!" Marie bent to kiss her again to end further questioning, and they went into the drawing-room together.

Marie looked round her with sad eyes. It seemed such an eternity since she was here--such an eternity since that Sunday afternoon when Chris had asked her to go for a walk with him and the walk had ended in that never-to-be-forgotten moment outside Westminster Abbey.

Then she had looked forward to radiant days of happiness, but she felt now that ever since she had been going backwards, retreating from the golden hopes that for a little while had dazzled her eyes.

Miss Chester was pouring out tea and talking all the time.

"I have had your rooms all redecorated, Marie, because--though of course I know you will get a house of your own before long--I like to think that you will often come here, you and Chris."

"Yes, dear, thank you."

Marie tried to speak enthusiastically, but it was a poor little failure, and Miss Chester looked up quickly, struck by some new tone in the girl's voice.

But she made no comment until later on when she and Chris were alone for a moment, and then she said anxiously:

"Chris, I don't think you ever told me how very ill Marie was after that accident in the sea?"

"How ill?" he echoed. "She wasn't very ill; she had to stay in her room for a few days of course, but she wasn't really ill. Aunt Madge. What do you mean?"

"My dear boy! When she is such a shadow! Why, there is nothing of her, and her poor little face is all eyes! She looks to me as if she is recovering from a terrible illness."

Chris smiled rather uneasily.

"You're over-anxious," he said. "The doctor a.s.sured me that she was all right, and I think she is. Has she complained about not feeling well to you?"

"Oh, no, nothing, but I haven't seen her for a month, and perhaps I notice the change more than you do. Chris---" He had turned to go, but stopped when she spoke his name.

"Yes, Aunt Madge."

"Come here, Chris."

He came back reluctantly, and Miss Chester rose from her chair, and, laying her hands on his shoulders, looked earnestly into his eyes.

"There isn't anything wrong, Chris? You're both quite happy?"

"Of course!" But he, too, bent and kissed her as Marie Celeste had done to avoid further questioning.

CHAPTER X

"The hour which might have been, yet might not be.

Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore.

Yet whereof life was barren, on what sh.o.r.e Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea?"

MARIE had only been back in London two days when she realized that, as far as Chris was concerned, she need expect nothing more than the casual affection which he had always bestowed upon her.

He was just the Chris she had always known--selfish and irresponsible and wholly charming.

Sometimes she despised herself because, no matter how indifferent he might be to her, her love in no way lessened. She felt that it would be much more for her happiness and much more sensible if she could grow as indifferent to him as he was to her.

Time after time she told herself that she would not care, that she would not let him hurt her, but it was useless. The first cold glance, the first small act of neglect, and the old wound ached afresh.

Her greatest fear was that Miss Chester would know the real state of things. When she was present Marie always exerted every nerve to appear bright and happy; she went out of her way to talk to Chris.

She was determined that the old lady should believe they had had a thoroughly good time and were perfectly happy.

She did not understand that eyes that appear woefully blind can often see the clearest. Miss Chester had long ago discovered for herself that this marriage, like many others she had seen during her life, was turning out a failure.

She was too wise to let either of them know of her discovery, but she shed many tears over it in secret and lay awake night after night wondering what she could do to help and put things right, but realizing that she could do absolutely nothing.

Interference would make things worse. She understood thoroughly the different temperaments with which she had to contend; she knew just how proud Marie was, just how obstinate Chris could be. She could only wait and hope with a trembling heart.

Chris seemed to have drifted back to his bachelor days; he came and went as he chose, and he said no more about looking for a house wherein he and Marie might make their home.

Miss Chester spoke of it once to Marie.

"My dear, don't you think you should be looking about for a house of your own? I love you to be with me, but I am sure that Chris must want his own home--it's only natural."

"I think Chris is quite happy, Aunt Madge," Marie answered, in the too quiet voice in which she always spoke to Miss Chester.

"Quite happy! But what about you?" the old lady asked indignantly.

"Every wife wants her own home; it's only natural, and there's plenty of money for you to have a delightful home."

"Money again!" Marie thought wearily. What great store everyone seemed to set by it!

Chris had opened a banking account for her, and told her to draw what she wanted and amuse herself; but Marie had not yet learnt the value of money, and beyond spending a few pounds on clothes and odds and ends she had not touched it.

He had given her a diamond engagement ring and another beautiful ring when they were married. One afternoon when they were lunching alone. Miss Chester being absent, he said to Marie suddenly:

"Wouldn't you like a pearl necklace or something?" The vagueness of the question made her smile; there was something so boyish about it, so very like the Chris she had known years ago.

"I should if you think I ought to have one," she answered.

"I don't know about 'ought to,'" he said, dubiously. "But other women have trinkets and things, and pearls would suit you, you're so dark! We'll go out this afternoon and look at some, shall we?"

She flushed with pleasure; it was so seldom that Chris suggested taking her anywhere. She ran upstairs to dress, feeling almost happy; she was so easily influenced by Chris--a kind word or thought from him kept her content for days, just as a cross word or an act of indifference carried her down to the depths of despair.

It was a sunny afternoon, and a heavy shower of rain overnight had washed the smoky face of London clean and left it with a wonderful touch of brightness.