t intent upon the affairs of the
estate, which in the eyes of some appeared wholly to absorb him.
Tonight his thoughts sufficed. The latest parcel from Mullens' lay
untied, the new American periodicals with wrappers intact. Deb was home
again--that was enough food for the mind at present.

But, oh, what a home-coming! His own and only "boss" no longer, as
heretofore, but subject to a husband who clearly meant to be his
master, and as clearly meant him to have no mistress any more. Neither
in the way of business nor in the way of sentiment could she be again
to him what she had been throughout his life--the altar of his
sacrifice, the goddess of his simple worship, his guide, his goal. He
must not hope, nor try, nor even long for her now. That one last
comfort was taken from him.

Well!...

He walked about, while the fiercest paroxysm racked him. As some of us
in our pain-torments rush to lotion or anodyne, he sought the soothing
of the starry night, the cool darkness that had so often brought him
peace. To get away from the faintly audible tinkling of the shearers'
banjo and their songs, he strolled in the opposite direction, and that
was towards the dark mass of the trees encircling her house--her home,
in which he had no part. Mechanically he noted a garden gate open--she
had left it so--open to the rabbits against which its section of the
miles of wire-netting fencing the grounds had been so carefully
provided, and he went forward to shut it. Being there, he had a distant
view of the big drawing-room windows, thrown up and letting out wide
streams of light across the lawn. And while he stood to gaze at them,
picturing what within he could not see, he heard the piano--Debbie
playing.

And so she had an appreciative audience, although she did not know it.
Below her windows, out of the light, Jim--poor old Jim!--sat like a
statue, his head thrown back, his eyes uplifted, tears running down his
hairy, weather-beaten face. It was the most exquisitely miserable hour
of his life--or so he thought. He did not know what a highly favoured
mortal he really was, in that his beautiful love-story was never to be
spoiled by a happy ending.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Sisters, by Ada Cambridge

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SISTERS ***

***** This file should be named 4218.txt or 4218.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenber