Free Edith Wharton - SSC 10 by The World Over (v2.1) Page B

in the glass as she sat brushing her hair.
It made her feel young again to have scored such a victory. The other woman
vanished to a speck on the horizon, as this one, who ruled the foreground,
smiled back at the reflection of her lips and eyes. He loved her, then—he loved
her as passionately as ever. He had divined what she had suffered, had
understood that their happiness depended on their getting away at once, and
finding each other again after yesterday’s desperate groping in the fog. The
nature of the influence that had come between them did not much matter to Charlotte now; she had faced the phantom and
dispelled it. “Courage—that’s the secret! If only
people who are in love weren’t always so afraid of risking their happiness by
looking it in the eyes.” As she brushed back her light abundant hair it waved
electrically above her head, like the palms of victory. Ah, well, some women
knew how to manage men, and some didn’t—and only the fair—she gaily
paraphrased—deserve the brave! Certainly she was looking very pretty.
                 The
morning danced along like a cockleshell on a bright sea—such a sea as they
would soon be speeding over. She ordered a particularly good dinner, saw the
children off to their classes, had her trunks brought down, consulted with the
maid about getting out summer clothes—for of course they would be heading for
heat and sunshine—and wondered if she oughtn’t to take Kenneth’s flannel suits
out of camphor. “But how absurd,” she reflected, “that I don’t yet know where
we’re going!” She looked at the clock, saw that it was close on noon , and decided to call him up at his office.
There was a slight delay; then she heard his secretary’s voice saying that Mr.
Ashby had looked in for a moment early, and left again almost immediately… Oh,
very well; Charlotte would ring up later. How soon was he likely
to be back? The secretary answered that she couldn’t tell; all they knew in the
office was that when he left he had said he was in a hurry because he had to go
out of town.
                 Out
of town! Charlotte hung up the receiver and sat blankly gazing
into new darkness. Why had he gone out of town? And where had he gone? And of
all days, why should he have chosen the eve of their suddenly planned
departure? She felt a faint shiver of apprehension. Of course he had gone to
see that woman—no doubt to get her permission to leave. He was as completely in
bondage as that; and Charlotte had been fatuous enough to see the palms of victory on her forehead.
She burst into a laugh and, walking across the room, sat down again before her
mirror. What a different face she saw! The smile on her pale lips seemed to
mock the rosy vision of the other Charlotte . But gradually her colour crept back. After
all, she had a right to claim the victory, since her husband was doing what she
wanted, not what the other woman exacted of him. It was natural enough, in view
of his abrupt decision to leave the next day, that he
should have arrangements to make, business matters to wind up; it was not even
necessary to suppose that his mysterious trip was a visit to the writer of the
letters. He might simply have gone to see a client who lived out of town. Of
course they would not tell Charlotte at the office; the secretary had hesitated before imparting even such
meagre information as the fact of Mr. Ashby’s absence. Meanwhile she would go
on with her joyful preparations, content to learn later in the day to what
particular island of the blest she was to be carried.
                 The
hours wore on, or rather were swept forward on a rush of eager preparations. At
last the entrance of the maid who came to draw the curtains roused Charlotte from her labours, day and she had to say
she didn’t know—that Kenneth had simply sent her word he was going to take
their passages—the uttering of the words again brought home to her the
strangeness of the