Rainbow Valley

by L. M. Montgomery

  CHAPTER XXXII. TWO STUBBORN PEOPLE

  Rosemary West, on her way home from a music lesson at Ingleside, turnedaside to the hidden spring in Rainbow Valley. She had not been there allsummer; the beautiful little spot had no longer any allurement forher. The spirit of her young lover never came to the tryst now; and thememories connected with John Meredith were too painful and poignant. Butshe had happened to glance backward up the valley and had seen NormanDouglas vaulting as airily as a stripling over the old stone dyke of theBailey garden and thought he was on his way up the hill. If he overtookher she would have to walk home with him and she was not going to dothat. So she slipped at once behind the maples of the spring, hoping hehad not seen her and would pass on.

  But Norman had seen her and, what was more, was in pursuit of her. Hehad been wanting for some time to have talk with Rosemary, but she hadalways, so it seemed, avoided him. Rosemary had never, at any time,liked Norman Douglas very well. His bluster, his temper, his noisyhilarity, had always antagonized her. Long ago she had often wonderedhow Ellen could possibly be attracted to him. Norman Douglas wasperfectly aware of her dislike and he chuckled over it. It never worriedNorman if people did not like him. It did not even make him dislike themin return, for he took it as a kind of extorted compliment. He thoughtRosemary a fine girl, and he meant to be an excellent, generousbrother-in-law to her. But before he could be her brother-in-law he hadto have a talk with her, so, having seen her leaving Ingleside as hestood in the doorway of a Glen store, he had straightway plunged intothe valley to overtake her.

  Rosemary was sitting pensively on the maple seat where John Meredithhad been sitting on that evening nearly a year ago. The tiny springshimmered and dimpled under its fringe of ferns. Ruby-red gleams ofsunset fell through the arching boughs. A tall clump of perfect astersgrew at her side. The little spot was as dreamy and witching and evasiveas any retreat of fairies and dryads in ancient forests. Into it NormanDouglas bounced, scattering and annihilating its charm in a moment. Hispersonality seemed to swallow the place up. There was simply nothingthere but Norman Douglas, big, red-bearded, complacent.

  "Good evening," said Rosemary coldly, standing up.

  "'Evening, girl. Sit down again--sit down again. I want to have a talkwith you. Bless the girl, what's she looking at me like that for? Idon't want to eat you--I've had my supper. Sit down and be civil."

  "I can hear what you have to say quite as well here," said Rosemary.

  "So you can, girl, if you use your ears. I only wanted you to becomfortable. You look so durned uncomfortable, standing there. Well,I'LL sit anyway."

  Norman accordingly sat down in the very place John Meredith had oncesat. The contrast was so ludicrous that Rosemary was afraid she wouldgo off into a peal of hysterical laughter over it. Norman cast his hataside, placed his huge, red hands on his knees, and looked up at herwith his eyes a-twinkle.

  "Come, girl, don't be so stiff," he said, ingratiatingly. When he likedhe could be very ingratiating. "Let's have a reasonable, sensible,friendly chat. There's something I want to ask you. Ellen says shewon't, so it's up to me to do it."

  Rosemary looked down at the spring, which seemed to have shrunk to thesize of a dewdrop. Norman gazed at her in despair.

  "Durn it all, you might help a fellow out a bit," he burst forth.

  "What is it you want me to help you say?" asked Rosemary scornfully.

  "You know as well as I do, girl. Don't be putting on your tragedy airs.No wonder Ellen was scared to ask you. Look here, girl, Ellen and I wantto marry each other. That's plain English, isn't it? Got that? And Ellensays she can't unless you give her back some tom-fool promise she made.Come now, will you do it? Will you do it?"

  "Yes," said Rosemary.

  Norman bounced up and seized her reluctant hand.

  "Good! I knew you would--I told Ellen you would. I knew it would onlytake a minute. Now, girl, you go home and tell Ellen, and we'll have awedding in a fortnight and you'll come and live with us. We shan't leaveyou to roost on that hill-top like a lonely crow--don't you worry. Iknow you hate me, but, Lord, it'll be great fun living with some onethat hates me. Life'll have some spice in it after this. Ellen willroast me and you'll freeze me. I won't have a dull moment."

  Rosemary did not condescend to tell him that nothing would ever induceher to live in his house. She let him go striding back to the Glen,oozing delight and complacency, and she walked slowly up the hillhome. She had known this was coming ever since she had returned fromKingsport, and found Norman Douglas established as a frequent eveningcaller. His name was never mentioned between her and Ellen, but the veryavoidance of it was significant. It was not in Rosemary's nature tofeel bitter, or she would have felt very bitter. She was coldly civil toNorman, and she made no difference in any way with Ellen. But Ellen hadnot found much comfort in her second courtship.

  She was in the garden, attended by St. George, when Rosemary came home.The two sisters met in the dahlia walk. St. George sat down on thegravel walk between them and folded his glossy black tail gracefullyaround his white paws, with all the indifference of a well-fed,well-bred, well-groomed cat.

  "Did you ever see such dahlias?" demanded Ellen proudly. "They are justthe finest we've ever had."

  Rosemary had never cared for dahlias. Their presence in the garden washer concession to Ellen's taste. She noticed one huge mottled one ofcrimson and yellow that lorded it over all the others.

  "That dahlia," she said, pointing to it, "is exactly like NormanDouglas. It might easily be his twin brother."

  Ellen's dark-browed face flushed. She admired the dahlia in question,but she knew Rosemary did not, and that no compliment was intended.But she dared not resent Rosemary's speech--poor Ellen dared notresent anything just then. And it was the first time Rosemary had evermentioned Norman's name to her. She felt that this portended something.

  "I met Norman Douglas in the valley," said Rosemary, looking straight ather sister, "and he told me you and he wanted to be married--if I wouldgive you permission."

  "Yes? What did you say?" asked Ellen, trying to speak naturally andoff-handedly, and failing completely. She could not meet Rosemary'seyes. She looked down at St. George's sleek back and felt horriblyafraid. Rosemary had either said she would or she wouldn't. If she wouldEllen would feel so ashamed and remorseful that she would be a veryuncomfortable bride-elect; and if she wouldn't--well, Ellen had oncelearned to live without Norman Douglas, but she had forgotten the lessonand felt that she could never learn it again.

  "I said that as far as I was concerned you were at full liberty to marryeach other as soon as you liked," said Rosemary.

  "Thank you," said Ellen, still looking at St. George.

  Rosemary's face softened.

  "I hope you'll be happy, Ellen," she said gently.

  "Oh, Rosemary," Ellen looked up in distress, "I'm so ashamed--I don'tdeserve it--after all I said to you--"

  "We won't speak about that," said Rosemary hurriedly and decidedly.

  "But--but," persisted Ellen, "you are free now, too--and it's not toolate--John Meredith--"

  "Ellen West!" Rosemary had a little spark of temper under all hersweetness and it flashed forth now in her blue eyes. "Have you quitelost your senses in EVERY respect? Do you suppose for an instant that_I_ am going to go to John Meredith and say meekly, 'Please, sir, I'vechanged my mind and please, sir, I hope you haven't changed yours.' Isthat what you want me to do?"

  "No--no--but a little--encouragement--he would come back--"

  "Never. He despises me--and rightly. No more of this, Ellen. I bear youno grudge--marry whom you like. But no meddling in my affairs."

  "Then you must come and live with me," said Ellen. "I shall not leaveyou here alone."

  "Do you really think that I would go and live in Norman Douglas'shouse?"

  "Why not?" cried Ellen, half angrily, despite her humiliation.

  Rosemary began to laugh.

  "Ellen, I thought you had a sense of humour. Can you see me d
oing it?"

  "I don't see why you wouldn't. His house is big enough--you'd have yourshare of it to yourself--he wouldn't interfere."

  "Ellen, the thing is not to be thought of. Don't bring this up again."

  "Then," said Ellen coldly, and determinedly, "I shall not marry him. Ishall not leave you here alone. That is all there is to be said aboutit."

  "Nonsense, Ellen."

  "It is not nonsense. It is my firm decision. It would be absurd for youto think of living here by yourself--a mile from any other house. If youwon't come with me I'll stay with you. Now, we won't argue the matter,so don't try."

  "I shall leave Norman to do the arguing," said Rosemary.

  "I'LL deal with Norman. I can manage HIM. I would never have askedyou to give me back my promise--never--but I had to tell Norman why Icouldn't marry him and he said HE would ask you. I couldn't prevent him.You need not suppose you are the only person in the world who possessesself-respect. I never dreamed of marrying and leaving you here alone.And you'll find I can be as determined as yourself."

  Rosemary turned away and went into the house, with a shrug of hershoulders. Ellen looked down at St. George, who had never blinked aneyelash or stirred a whisker during the whole interview.

  "St. George, this world would be a dull place without the men, I'lladmit, but I'm almost tempted to wish there wasn't one of 'em in it.Look at the trouble and bother they've made right here, George--torn ourhappy old life completely up by the roots, Saint. John Meredith began itand Norman Douglas has finished it. And now both of them have to go intolimbo. Norman is the only man I ever met who agrees with me thatthe Kaiser of Germany is the most dangerous creature alive on thisearth--and I can't marry this sensible person because my sister isstubborn and I'm stubborner. Mark my words, St. George, the ministerwould come back if she raised her little finger. But she won'tGeorge--she'll never do it--she won't even crook it--and I don't daremeddle, Saint. I won't sulk, George; Rosemary didn't sulk, so I'mdetermined I won't either, Saint; Norman will tear up the turf, but thelong and short of it is, St. George, that all of us old fools must juststop thinking of marrying. Well, well, 'despair is a free man, hope isa slave,' Saint. So now come into the house, George, and I'll solace youwith a saucerful of cream. Then there will be one happy and contentedcreature on this hill at least."