She was
puzzled, bewildered, and hopelessly wretched, and she asked herself
repeatedly why her happiness should be sacrificed for that of a
shallow, irresponsible butterfly. For Donald, she had no blame, he had
drifted into this affair with Connie when his need was greatest, and
now that his honor was involved as well as hers, there must be no
turning back.
But when the second day of the trial dawned, and she came down after a
sleepless night to read discouraging news reports of the previous
day's proceedings, she found that something stronger than herself was
taking possession of her. In vain did she try to fulfil her accustomed
tasks. Every atom of her was there in the courthouse beside Donald
Morley, standing trial with him. Twice she flung on her coat and hat,
only to take them off again, and stand at the window impatiently
watching the storm.
For the long summer had finally come to an end. After days of radiant
October sunshine, when winter seemed, like the hereafter, vague and
far off, a wind came rushing out of the north, stripping the trees in
a single night, and leaving them surprised at their sudden nakedness.
Then the sleet came, and, not content with attacking trees and shrubs,
must storm the house itself, invading windows and doors, besieging
every nook and corner, only to waste away at last into icy streams
that went rattling noisily down the gutters.
Pages:
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375