The Jade God by Alan Sullivan (snow like ashes series txt) 📕

sort? It would have given her something to talk about for the rest of her life with no one to interrupt; something infinitely more intriguing than her husband’s grenades, or whatever they are. How do you feel yourself about that?”

“I’m not quite sure,” he said candidly. “What I did feel about the house until yesterday seems to have gone this morning, as though a wind had blown through it with all the windows open. But I wouldn’t mind subletting now, if there were any chance of it, which there isn’t at this time of year. So we have it for another nine months anyway.”

“You couldn’t very well bring Jean back here,” she murmured thoughtfully.

He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”

Edith got up with the sudden remembrance that her hands were very full.

“Well, I suppose there’s time enough for that, and anyway you have to marry her first. Wouldn’t it be queer if⁠—” She broke off with a little laugh.

“If what?”

“Nothing, I’m only wandering, and of course just when there’s no time for it. Please put these things on that tray and open the pantry door. I won’t expect you for tea.”

He went off a little later, passing Martin, who only touched his cap. He did look like another man, but neither of them spoke. The shadow of despair seemed to have left his face and to be replaced by a gravity that was new and dignified. Derrick strode on with the consciousness that the wind had blown through himself as well as Beech Lodge. He admitted his debt to Edith and now saw her cheerful sanity in a fresh light. It was strange to have leaned on a person, however dear, because they were incapable of being torn by one’s own reactions. How bright she was! How helpful and practical! What a standby!

But he never knew what the past hour or two had cost her⁠—she was too good an actor for that; nor did he guess that she had watched him to the gate, her eyes dim, feeling more lonely than ever before in her life. She admitted there was much she did not understand, or even want to understand, but he did not perceive how often she had come nearly to the breaking-point. With Edith it was as with many another woman, the cost of whose sacrifice is hidden too deep for discovery, and only the beauty of it revealed.

Jean and her mother were together, and Mrs. Millicent greeted him with a quiet affection that touched him deeply. It meant that not only had Jean told her of the tragedy of the night before but also that she saw in him more than the man who had solved the mystery of her husband’s death. Jean’s eyes met his own as she gave him her hand, and they carried a message that needed no speech. Mrs. Millicent regarded them both with a gentle pleasure in which there was no surprise, then waited a little nervously. The picture of the study of Beech Lodge and what had happened there still haunted her brain.

“Jean told me you were to have a talk with Martin and the peddler this morning,” she said. “Did you see them?”

“Yes,” he said quietly.

“Did they tell you anything new about my⁠—my husband?” She had summoned all her courage for this question and wanted it over.

Derrick shook his head. “There was very little about that and nothing of real importance. It was mostly about the image he found in Burma which Blunt says has a good deal of past history that makes it of special interest to certain people there. Both men agreed that it carried bad luck, and sometimes danger, wherever it went. It’s quite obvious that in some way it fascinated Mr. Millicent; and”⁠—here he hesitated an instant⁠—“it seems to have exercised later on the same influence over Perkins; and,” he concluded slowly, “the thing worked in her brain till finally she did what she did.”

Mrs. Millicent shivered. “I know it impressed him tremendously. That was clear from the day he got back from Burma. He once told me he thought it was valuable, but it always frightened me because of its effect on him. It seemed to carry some dreadful secret with it. I asked him to destroy it several times, but that rather shocked him. He never let it out of his own hands and always hid it where you found it.”

“Do you feel that way about it now?”

“Yes, more than ever.”

“Then may I destroy it?” he asked quickly.

“I should be very glad and feel happier than in a long time if you did.”

“I will, and I think others may be happier, too, in the long run.”

She nodded. “Isn’t it strange?”

“What?” he asked curiously.

Her eyes rested a moment on Jean’s lovely face, then turned back to him.

“My dear boy,” she said with a sort of soft impulsiveness, “do you think I can’t see how it is between you two? The strange part is that the last three months should have resulted in this, that out of shadows and uncertainty should come something so different. I’m afraid I have not understood much of all you’ve done at Beech Lodge, but I remember so distinctly the day when Jean said she must go in and tell you what had happened there. I can’t say anything more about it now, for I’m too conscious of the effect of it all on this child of mine, but soon you and I must have a long talk. How is your sister?” she added unsteadily.

“All right, I think. Her hands are rather full now till she gets some help.” He knew that Jean’s eyes were fixed on him and found it hard to speak.

“I’m sure of that. She’s splendid, and something tells me we’re going to be great friends. You’ll stay for tea, won’t you?”

After that she got up, put her hand on his shoulder for an understanding instant, and went out. She felt as though a new grasp, young and strong, had laid hold