She lay very silent against his shoulder. Blindly striving to understand him, and men--blindly searching for some clue to the path of duty--the path she must find somehow and follow for his sake--through the obscurity and mental confusion she seemed to hear at moments Elena Clydesdale's shameless and merciless words, and the deadly repetition seemed to stun her.
Vainly she strove against the recurring horror; once or twice, unconsciously, her hands crept upward and closed her ears, as though she could shut out what was dinning in her brain.
With every reserve atom of mental strength and self-control she battled against this thing which was stupefying her, fought it off, held it, drove it back--not very far, but far enough to give her breathing room. But no sooner did she attempt to fix her mind on the man beside her, and begin once more to grope for the clue to duty--how most unselfishly she might serve him for his salvation and her own--than the horror she had driven back stirred stealthily and crawled nearer. And the battle was on once more.
Twilight had fallen over the Westchester hills; a familiar country lay along the road they travelled. In the early darkness, glancing from the windows he divined unseen landmarks, counted the miles unconsciously as the car sped across invisible bridges that clattered or resounded under the heavy wheels.
The stars came out; against them woodlands and hills took shadowy shape, marking for him remembered haunts. And at last, far across the hills the lighted windows of Silverwood glimmered all a-row; the wet gravel crunched under the slowing wheels, tall Norway spruces towered phantomlike on every side; the car stopped.
"Home," he whispered to her; and she rested her arm on his shoulder and drew herself erect.
Every servant and employee on the Desboro estate was there to receive them; she offered her slim hand and spoke to every one. Then, on her husband's arm, and her proud little head held high, she entered the House of Desboro for the first time bearing the family name--entered smiling, with death in her heart.
At last the dinner was at an end. Farris served the coffee and set the silver lamp and cigarettes on the library table, and retired.