xv

And so more days passed, each filled with a sort of numbing dread. Sally thought of the business, of her future, of Toby—from whom she had received several letter reflecting his moods of ferociousness and resentment,—and of the bonds which kept her tied to the house. She knew during all this time no peace. She grew thinner, and began to take less care of herself. She was not aware of the beginning of a loss of self-respect, but it was there. She—she who had always been so strict in regard to her toilette and dress, whatever her state of mind—went down to breakfast one morning in a kimono which she had found in Madam's wardrobe and shortened for herself. It was a proof that she no longer cared for her appearance. She lay through the nights often only half-asleep, in a stupor which presently led her to an attitude almost of indifference to the needs of the day. And for the rest of the time Sally was so lethargic that it one morning occurred to her to think that she had caught from Gaga whatever was the unnamed illness from which he was suffering. The thought once arisen, flew to her head. It became a horror. She had heard of bad fruit corrupting fruit that was sound and this was a new preoccupation for her. When Gaga would have kissed her lips she turned away in sudden nausea, fighting instinctively against a subjection which her indifference had hitherto made allowable. And she had several times to invent an excuse to be alone, so active had her distress become; and in these absences she would walk vehemently up and down the dining-room until she was forced by exhaustion to sit or by a message from Gaga to return to his room.

"Why, whatever's come to me?" she demanded. "It's awful! I'm ill."

The doctor called every day to see Gaga, and spoke as though there was a definite improvement in his patient's health. The medicine Gaga was taking would finally give him strength. Already he was beginning to eat more, and beginning also to retain what he had eaten.

"It's nerves, you know," the doctor told Sally one day. "Mere nerves. Your husband's run down. He's not strong. He's had a shock. As soon as he's well enough he ought to be got away for a holiday. You take him away. About the end of next week, if he makes good progress. Take him to the sea."

"He hates it," cried Sally. "Upsets him."

"Oh." The doctor considered. "Where did you go for your honeymoon? Penterby—well, that would do, if you can take drives to the sea. He doesn't want too bracing a place. And now, Mrs. Merrick, I've been noticing you lately. You're run down, too. We can't have you ill. You've been very plucky; but you've had a great strain, and all this nursing has worn you out. I'm going to have a look at you...."

Sally was conscious of a sinking of the heart.

"I'm quite all right!" she protested. She could not have told what intuition had created this panic; but her heart had begun instantly to thump in her breast, and she became, as she had done once before, almost dizzy. She could not say anything more. She submitted to his examination, and answered his questions. It was an ordeal, and she watched his serious face with its cold eyes, and felt his chilly hand, and guessed at what he would say. The doctor seemed appallingly slow, appallingly deliberate and immovable and ruthless in his perceptions. She was terrified. The room wavered before her; and her fright grew greater and greater. He was very patient. She felt strange trust in him; but always the same dread, which made her teeth chatter a little. Soon he had finished; and then he looked at her with a slight smile and a nod.

"Yes," he said, reflectively. "Oh, there's nothing to be alarmed about at all. Nothing. All you've got to do is to take care of yourself, and not worry; and it will do you good to get away. Women in your condition, especially if it's the first, often...."

"My condition!" exclaimed Sally. It was like a blow. "Doctor!"

"Nothing to be alarmed at," he repeated. "You'll be very happy after a bit. You know, you're going to have a baby." He stood away from her, smiling in a friendly way.

"A baby!" Sally was shaken from head to foot. She stared at the doctor in an extremity of horror. "A baby!"

He patted her arm. Before she was able to collect herself he had gone—a busy doctor with a long round and a large practice. Sally sat looking at the fire. Then she rose. A scream came to her lips. Again and again she shuddered. A baby! A baby! Toby's baby!