Page:The Fruit of the Tree (Wharton 1907).djvu/561

Rh "No; I would rather be alone. Good-bye," she said, letting her hand slip softly along his coat-sleeve as he turned to the door

XXXVIII

T half-past six that afternoon, just as Amherst, on his return from the mills, put the key into his door at Hanaford, Mrs. Ansell, in New York, was being shown into Mr. Langhope's library.

As she entered, her friend rose from his chair by the fire, and turned on her a face so disordered by emotion that she stopped short with an exclamation of alarm.

"Henry what has happened? Why did you send for me?"

"Because I couldn't go to you. I couldn't trust myself in the streets—in the light of day"

"But why? What is it?—Not Cicely——?"

He struck both hands upward with a comprehensive gesture. "Cicely—every one—the whole world!" His clenched fist came down on the table against which he was leaning. "Maria, my girl might have been saved!"

Mrs. Ansell looked at him with growing perturbation. "Saved—Bessy's life? But how? By whom?"

"She might have been allowed to live, I mean—to recover. She was killed, Maria; that woman killed her!" [ 545 ]