He could hold her
more securely with comforts added to his great love. Her
happiness had to be thought of, had to be protected.
He could tell that his wife was still awake. He might begin to
talk and maybe they could arrange a settlement. But he was
getting too tired for a discussion that might invite tears and
even a fit of hysterics, like the one she had gone through before
their first child came dead. He could see her still as she looked
that morning in the barn crying: "You'll be punished for this
some day--you will--you will. You don't love me, but some time
you will love some one. Then you'll understand what it is to be
treated like this--" It gave him the creeps now to remember it.
It was like one of those old incantations; almost like a curse.
What if some day his Rose should grow to be as indifferent, feel
as little tenderness toward him as he had felt toward his wife at
that moment. The pain of it made him break out into a fine sweat.
But he hadn't understood. What had he understood until this love
had come into his life! He would never do a thing as cruel as
that now. Come to think of it, the older Rose wasn't acting like
a bad sort. But then, when it came to a show-down she might not
be so magnanimous as she had appeared tonight.
Mrs. Wade was still thinking. She also was measuring
possibilities and clairvoyantly sensing what was going on in her
husband's mind.
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