large/1336/afterward_cb_librivox_64kb_mp3/afterward_1_wharton_cb_64kb_112
large/1336/afterward_cb_librivox_64kb_mp3/afterward_1_wharton_cb_64kb
English
1336
Certainly the book was not going as smoothly as she had imagined it would, and the lines of perplexity between his eyes had never been there in his engineering days. Then he had often looked fagged to the verge of illness, but the native demon of "worry" had never branded his brow. CERTAINLY THE BOOK WAS NOT GOING AS SMOOTHLY AS SHE HAD THOUGHT IT WOULD AND THERE WERE LINES OF PERPLEXITY BETWEEN HIS EYES SUCH AS HAD NEVER BEEN THERE IN HIS ENGINEERING DAYS HE HAD OFTEN THEN LOOKED FAGGED TO THE VERGE OF ILLNESS BUT THE NATIVE DEMON OF WORRY HAD NEVER BRANDED HIS BROW
eservoir of life. The life had probably not been of the most vivid order: for long periods, no doubt, it had fallen as noiselessly into the past as the quiet drizzle of autumn fell, hour after hour, into the green fish-pond between the yews; but these back-waters of existence sometimes breed, in their sluggish depths, strange acuities of emotion, and Mary Boyne had felt from the first the occasional brush of an intenser memory. The feeling had never been stronger than on the December afternoon when, waiting in the library for the belated lamps, she rose from her seat and stood among the shadows of the hearth. Her husband had gone off, after luncheon, for one of his long tramps on the downs. She had noticed of late that he preferred to be unaccompanied on these occasions; and, in the tried security of their personal relations, had been driven to conclude that his book was bothering him, and that he needed the afternoons to turn over in solitude the problems left from the morning's work. RM THE CHARM OF HAVING BEEN FOR CENTURIES A DEEP DIM RESERVOIR OF LIFE THE LIFE HAD PROBABLY NOT BEEN OF THE MOST VIVID ORDER FOR LONG PERIODS NO DOUBT IT HAD FALLEN AS NOISELESSLY INTO THE PAST AS THE QUIET DRIZZLE OF AUTUMN FELL HOUR AFTER HOUR INTO THE FISH POND BETWEEN THE EWES BUT THESE BACKWATERS OF EXISTENCE SOMETIMES BREED IN THEIR SLUGGISH DEPTHS STRANGE ACCUITIES OF EMOTION AND MARY BOYNE HAD FELT FROM THE FIRST THE MYSTERIOUS STIR OF INTENSER MEMORIES THE FEELING HAD NEVER BEEN STRONGER THAN ON THIS PARTICULAR AFTERNOON WHEN WAITING IN THE LIBRARY FOR THE LAMPS TO COME SHE ROSE FROM HER SEAT AND STOOD AMONG THE SHADOWS OF THE HEARTH HER HUSBAND HAD GONE OFF AFTER LUNCHEON FOR ONE OF HIS LONG TRAMPS ON THE DOWNS SHE HAD NOTICED OF LATE THAT HE PREFERRED TO GO ALONE AND IN THE TRIED SECURITY OF THEIR PERSONAL RELATIONS HAD BEEN DRIVEN TO CONCLUDE THAT HIS BOOK WAS BOTHERING HIM AND THAT HE NEEDED THE AFTERNOONS TO TURN OVER IN SOLITUDE THE PROBLEMS LEFT FROM THE MORNING'S WORK
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