[Gutenberg 49460] • Dividing Waters

CHAPTER I

THE MISTAKES OF PROVIDENCE

The family Ingestre sat in conclave. That they sat together at all at any time other than a meal-time was in itself sufficient proof that the subject of their debate was unusually serious: their faces and attitudes added conclusive evidence.

The Reverend John Ingestre occupied his chair of state at the head of the long table. He was a middle-sized man, with narrow, sloping shoulders, which were at that particular moment drawn up into an uncomfortable hunch. When he spoke he pulled at his thin beard and glanced at his wife surreptitiously over his spectacles, as though seeking her advice or support—actions which gave his whole person an air of harassed nervousness.

Mrs. Ingestre did not return her husband's signals. She lay quietly on the sofa by the window, her hand half shading her face, and seemed absorbed in her own thoughts. Only once during the Rev. John's long and detailed statement did she give any sign of having heard. Then she shifted her position so that her grave scrutiny rested on the two younger members of the family. Perhaps she hoped to learn from their expressions what they were innerly experiencing, and therein no doubt she must have been successful, for their positions alone were expressive of much.

The boy—or young man, for he was at that uncertain age when boyhood and manhood meet—had his hands plunged in his pockets; his long legs were stretched out in front of him, his chin rested on his chest. Supreme and energiless despondency seemed to be imprinted in the very creases of his Norfolk coat.

The girl had her place at the table. Though she sat perfectly still, never turning her eyes from her father's face, there was something in her rigid attitude which suggested irritation and impatience. Her hands lay in her lap; only a close observer would have seen that they were not folded, but clenched, so that the knuckles stood out white.