The day's journey

He had telegraphed to one of the servants, who had lived with them since their marriage, that he should return that evening, and as he neared the desolate home he pictured, he was thinking drearily that some settlement of the situation was inevitable. He had no hope of Cecily. Rose had said so little that he had returned from his visit to her more despondent than ever. She must be in Cecily's confidence. She knew Cecily's attitude—and she had said nothing; given him no comfort. The outlook was inexpressibly dreary. He longed for Cecily. She was never out of his thoughts. She haunted his dreams—his terrible, mocking dreams. In these nightly visions, he saw her over and over again; in the garden at the Priory, walking bareheaded under the trees, smiling as she ran towards him. Or he turned, to find her at the door, her eyes full of laughter, her arms outstretched to him. Always the radiant, happy Cecily of their early married life. And then the waking—the heart-breaking return to reality; his shame, his bitter, useless self-reproach....FROM THE BOOKS.

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E-bog: 1. november 2018