It was nearly dusk on Thursday afternoon when Belhaven came in and
found Rachel in the living-room. He was pale and fagged and came slowly
across the room to the tea-table. She was sitting in a deep chair by
the fire but she rose mechanically and went to pour tea for him. The
little service had become so familiar that it was a matter of habit. He
glanced at her as he took the cup from her hands and was startled by
her face.
"There's something wrong, Rachel?"
"No, I'm a little tired, that's all."
His glance traveled around the room and came back to her again, with a
peculiar significance.
"I know that you're unhappy here," he said, a strong note of restraint
in his voice, unaware that he was repeating Astry's words to Eva.
Rachel rallied her thoughts. "Not more so than you are," she replied
without bitterness.
"In a way that's true; you've been unhappy but, none the less, you've
made this house a home to me. I can pay no greater tribute to your
unselfishness; you've been cruelly placed but you've uttered no
reproaches."
"Oh, that isn't so much to my credit; reproaches are idle enough!"
He set his untasted tea on the table and leaned forward, looking at
her, his clasped hands between his knees, his dark face perturbed. The
light of the candelabrum on the tea-table flickered softly between
them; the long room was full of keen shadows. Rachel's face, pale and
spiritualized, was thrown into high relief; it had never seemed so
nearly beautiful, with the subtle charm of the shadowed eyes and the
soft, dark hair. She had passed through deep waters but Charter knew
she loved him; there was comfort in that. The feeling of Charter's
presence was with her, as it must be in great love, even in the
immortal moment of renunciation.
Belhaven, looking at her with a comprehension of suffering, discerned
the crisis. He saw that she had been deep in the struggle, he divined
that Eva had, at last, confessed the truth, and his soul drew back
shuddering from the thought of Rachel's judgment of him--and the
justice of it. There was a long silence. At last he broke it.
"Rachel, I've been thinking it all over and I've tried to put myself
out of it; for you it's intolerable."
She looked up in vague surprise; in the pause her mind had floated with
the stream and she had almost forgotten Belhaven's point of view. "Not
more intolerable than it has been--except I know now that Eva deceived
me. But I still believe you told me the truth, that it's past with you
both now, and I suppose it's best to let things go--even for Astry."
"You never seem to think of yourself."