Welcome to sleep stories with Steph It is time to relax.
And fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now.
And know where you need to go.
Close your eyes.
And feel yourself sink into the support beneath you.
And let all the worries of the day go.
Drift away.
This is your time.
And your space.
Take a deep breath in through your nose.
And let it out with a long sigh.
That's it!
There is nothing you need to be doing now.
And know where you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 39 Balancy decided she must write a note.
The imp in the back of her mind laughed.
In every story she'd ever read where a runaway wife decamped from home,
She left a note.
Generally on the pincushion.
It was not a very original idea,
But one had to leave something intelligible.
What was there to do but write a note?
She looked vaguely about her for something to write with.
Ink,
There was none.
Balancy had never written anything since she had come to the Blue Castle.
Save Memoranda of Household Necessaries for Barney.
A pencil sufficed for those,
But now the pencil was not to be found.
Valancy absently crossed to the door of Bluebeard's chamber and tried it.
She vaguely expected to find it locked,
But it opened unresistingly.
She had never tried the door of Bluebeard's chamber before.
She did not know whether Barney habitually kept it locked or not.
If he did,
He must have been badly upset to leave it unlocked.
She did not realize that she was doing something he had told her not to do.
She was only looking for something to write with.
All her faculties were concentrated on deciding just what they would say and just how she would say it.
There was not the slightest curiosity in Valancy as she went into the lean-to.
There were no beautiful women hanging by their hair on the walls.
It seemed,
In fact,
A very harmless apartment with a commonplace little sheet iron stove in the middle of it.
It's pipe sticking out through the roof.
At one end was a table or counter crowded with odd looking utensils.
Used no doubt by Barney and his smelly operations.
Chemical experiments,
Probably.
She reflected dully.
At the other end was a big writing desk and a swivel chair.
The side walls were lined with books.
Balancy went blindly to the desk and there she stood motionless for a few minutes looking down at something that lay on it.
A bundle of galley proofs.
The page on the top bore the title,
Wild Honey.
And under the title were the words.
By John Foster.
The opening sentence read.
.
.
Pines are the trees of myth and legend.
They strike their roots deep into the traditions of an older world.
But Wind and Star love their lofty tops.
What music when old Aelus draws his bow across the branches of the pines?
She had heard Barney say that one day.
When they walked onto them.
So Barney Snaith was John Foster?
Valancy was not excited,
However.
She had absorbed all the shocks and sensations she could compass for one day.
Now this affected her neither one way or the other,
She only thought,
So.
This explains it.
It was a small matter that had somehow stuck in her mind more persistently than its importance seemed to justify.
Soon after Barney had bought her John Foster's latest book,
She'd been in a Port Lawrence bookshop and heard a customer ask the proprietor for John Foster's new book.
Replied to Sid Kirkley,
Not out yet,
Won't be out till next week.
Balancy had opened her lips to say,
Oh yes,
It is out.
But then she closed them again.
After all,
It was none of her business.
She supposed the proprietor wanted to cover up his negligence in not getting the book in promptly.
But now she knew.
The book Barney had given her had been one of the author's complimentary copies sent in advance.
Well.
.
.
Valancy pushed the proofs indifferently aside and sat down in the swivel chair.
She took up Barney's pen,
And a vile one it was.
Pulled a sheet of paper to her and began to write.
She could not think of anything to say but bold facts.
Dear Barney.
I went to Dr Trent this morning and found out he sent me the wrong letter by mistake.
There never was anything serious the matter with my heart.
And I am quite well now.
I did not mean to trick you.
Please believe that.
I could not bear it if you did not believe that.
I'm very sorry for the mistake.
Surely you can get a divorce if I leave you.
Is desertion a ground for divorce in Canada?
Of course there is.
Anything I can do to help or hasten it.
Then I shall do it gladly.
If your lawyer will please be good enough to let me know.
I thank you,
Barney,
For all your kindness to me.
I shall never forget it.
Think as kindly of me as you can.
Because I did not mean to trap you.
Goodbye.
Yours gratefully.
Valency.
This letter was very cold and stiff,
She knew.
But to try to say anything less or anything else.
Would be dangerous.
Like tearing away a dam.
She didn't know what torrent of wild incoherences and passionate anguish might pour out.
So in a postscript she added Your father was here today.
He's coming back tomorrow.
He told me everything.
I think you should go back to him.
He is very lonely for you.
Valancy put the letter in an envelope She wrote Barney across the top of it.
And left it on the desk.
On it she laid the string of pearls.
If they had been the bead,
She believed them.
She would have kept them in memory of that wonderful year.
But now she could not keep the $15,
000 gift of a man.
Who had married her out of pity.
And whom she was now leaving.
It did hurt her to give up her pretty bauble.
That was an odd thing,
She reflected.
The fact she was leaving Barney did not hurt her yet.
It lay at her heart like a cold,
Insensible thing.
If it came to life,
She knew.
But then she must not know.
Valancy shuddered.
And went out of the house.
She put on her hat and mechanically fared good luck and banjo.
She locked the door and carefully hid the key in the old pine.
Then she crossed to the mainland in the disappearing propeller.
For a moment she stood on the bank looking at her blue castle.
The rain had not yet come.
But the sky was dark and the star was grey and sullen.
The little house under the pines look very pathetic now.
A casket rifled of its jewels,
A lamp with its flame.
Burnt out.
I shall never again hear the wind crying over my stars at night.
Thought valency.
This hurt her.
She could have laughed to think such a trifle could hurt her.
That's Sarge.
Are terrible.
Time.
