As she continued to watch him ineffable relief stole slowly over her, relaxing her strained nerves and exhausted body. He knew, then…he knew…it was because he knew that he had married her, and that he sat there in the darkness to show her she was safe with him. A stir of something deeper than she had ever felt in thinking of him flitted through her tired brain, and cautiously, noiselessly, she let her head sink on the pillow….
When she woke the room was full of morning light, and her first glance showed her that she was alone in it. She got up and dressed, and as she was fastening her dress the door opened, and Mr. Royall came in. He looked old and tired in the bright daylight, but his face wore the same expression of grave friendliness that had reassured her on the Mountain. It was as if all the dark spirits had gone out of him.
They went downstairs to the dining-room for breakfast, and after breakfast he told her he had some insurance business to attend to. “I guess while I’m doing it you’d better step out and buy yourself whatever you need.” He smiled, and added with an embarrassed laugh: “You know I always wanted you to beat all the other girls.” He drew something from his pocket, and pushed it across the table to her; and she saw that he had given her two twenty-dollar bills. “If it ain’t enough there’s more where that come from–I want you to beat ’em all hollow,” he repeated.
She flushed and tried to stammer out her thanks, but he had pushed back his chair and was leading the way out of the dining-room. In the hall he paused a minute to say that if it suited her they would take the three o’clock train back to North Dormer; then he took his hat and coat from the rack and went out.
A few minutes later Charity went out, too. She had watched to see in what direction he was going, and she took the opposite way and walked quickly down the main street to the brick building on the corner of Lake Avenue. There she paused to look cautiously up and down the thoroughfare, and then climbed the brass-bound stairs to Dr. Merkle’s door. The same bushy-headed mulatto girl admitted her, and after the same interval of waiting in the red plush parlor she was once more summoned to Dr. Merkle’s office. The doctor received her without surprise, and led her into the inner plush sanctuary.
“I thought you’d be back, but you’ve come a mite too soon: I told you to be patient and not fret,” she observed, after a pause of penetrating scrutiny.
Charity drew the money from her breast. “I’ve come to get my blue brooch,” she said, flushing.
“Your brooch?” Dr. Merkle appeared not to remember. “My, yes–I get so many things of that kind. Well, my dear, you’ll have to wait while I get it out of the safe. I don’t leave valuables like that laying round like the noospaper.”
She disappeared for a moment, and returned with a bit of twisted-up tissue paper from which she unwrapped the brooch.
Charity, as she looked at it, felt a stir of warmth at her heart. She held out an eager hand.
“Have you got the change?” she asked a little breathlessly, laying one of the twenty-dollar bills on the table.
“Change? What’d I want to have change for? I only see two twenties there,” Dr. Merkle answered brightly.
Charity paused, disconcerted. “I thought…you said it was five dollars a visit….”
“For YOU, as a favour–I did. But how about the responsibility and the insurance? I don’t s’pose you ever thought of that? This pin’s worth a hundred dollars easy. If it had got lost or stole, where’d I been when you come to claim it?”
Charity remained silent, puzzled and half-convinced by the argument, and Dr. Merkle promptly followed up her advantage. “I didn’t ask you for your brooch, my dear. I’d a good deal ruther folks paid me my regular charge than have ’em put me to all this trouble.”
She paused, and Charity, seized with a desperate longing to escape, rose to her feet and held out one of the bills.