The Blue Sapphire

by D. E. Stevenson

  ‘Mrs. Brown asked for you. She talked about you a lot.’

  ‘She would,’ nodded Uncle Randal. ‘She’s a gas-bag. What did she say about me?’

  ‘Well, for one thing, she said it was a pity you had never married.’

  ‘Did she? As a matter of fact Mary Brown knows well enough why I never married.’ He hesitated, and then continued, ‘I’ve been wondering whether or not I should tell you, Julia. At first I decided not . . . but now that you’re staying on in Leddiesford and chatting to people I think it might be as well for you to hear the true story in case you hear a garbled version of it from somebody else. The reason I never married is because there was only one woman I wanted. It was your mother, my dear.’

  ‘Mother!’ exclaimed Julia in astonishment.

  ‘Yes, Anne Chesterfield. I met her when I was staying with some friends at Bristol and we fell in love with each other. Anne was a good deal younger than I, but she had had a sad life and in some ways she was older than her years, so it didn’t seem to matter. She was an orphan—she had no relatives at all—so my parents suggested that the wedding should take place in Leddiesford. My mother was particularly anxious to have the reception at Harburn House, because she enjoyed weddings and she had no daughter, so it was all arranged.’

  ‘It was all arranged!’ echoed Julia. ‘Uncle Ran, you don’t mean——’

  ‘Yes, my dear, it was all arranged and everybody was pleased. Anne came to stay at Harburn House and my parents loved her—as I knew they would. I introduced her to all my friends and received their congratulations. Everybody in Leddiesford was delighted at the prospect of a marriage at Harburn House. One old woman told me there had not been a marriage at Harburn House for eighty years. I was very happy; there was no cloud in my sky.’

  ‘Uncle Ran!’ exclaimed Julia in alarm. ‘What——’

  ‘My dear, you had better let me finish,’ he told her. ‘Now that I’ve started, you had better hear the whole story. Well, it so happened that Andrew was not at home at the time. He was studying English law at London University and had the promise of being taken into a well-known firm. But he came up to Leddiesford for his holiday, and the arrival of Andrew made my happiness complete. Andrew and I were devoted to each other. He is eight years younger than I am; I can remember the day he was born; I can remember him as a small child running after me and wanting to help me with whatever I happened to be doing; I can remember him as a schoolboy, captain of the rugger fifteen. Then, when he grew up, he was a fine fellow and I was proud of him. He was full of fun and gaiety. There was never a dull moment when Andrew was there. My father was proud of him too, he was a son to be proud of. My mother adored him.

  ‘Well, Andrew came up to Harburn House for his holiday—as I told you—and he and Anne took to each other at once. Of course I was delighted when I saw them getting on so well . . . the two people I loved best in all the world! Naturally I wanted them to be friends. You can understand that, can’t you?’

  Julia gazed at him in dismay. ‘What happened?’

  He sighed. ‘Nothing much happened. I never suspected anything; they never said a word to anybody. They just went away.’

  ‘Went away!’

  ‘They just got into Andrew’s car and drove away. They went to London. Andrew wrote to me and said that he and Anne had discovered they loved each other, so to save any trouble they had been married by special licence. Those were his very words, Julia: “To save any trouble.”

  ‘I should have left it at that,’ he continued sadly. ‘I ought to have accepted the fact and made the best of it. I ought to have realised that it was natural for those two young creatures to fall in love with each other. To tell the truth I believe I could have accepted it if Andrew had come to me bravely and told me what had happened . . . at any rate I would not have minded so much. It was the way Andrew did it that made me so angry; it was mean and cowardly—that’s what I felt. I was almost demented with rage and grief, all the more so because I loved them. It’s a terrible thing to be angry with somebody you love; I hope you’ll never know what that’s like, Julia.’

  He paused and looked at her and she shook her head. She could not speak.

  ‘So I went to London,’ he continued. ‘I saw Andrew and we had a blazing row. We both said things that should never have been said—dreadful things. Well, I’ve lived to regret my foolish words; I regret them deeply and sincerely; I would give a lot if I could go back and wash out my part in that terrible quarrel. I’ve done my best to make amends. I’ve written to Andrew several times and begged him to let bygones be bygones, but he has taken no notice of my letters.’

  ‘Oh, why did they do it!’ Julia exclaimed.

  ‘Why did they do it? They were in love, Julia. Have you never been in love? Have you never felt that the world was well lost for love? No, I can see you’ve never felt that.’

  Julia could not reply. She had believed herself to be in love with Morland, but it certainly had not been the overmastering passion for the sake of which one was willing to give up everything in the world.

  ‘They were in love,’ repeated Uncle Randal. ‘They gave up everything for love. I hope they were happy. I couldn’t say that at the time, but I can say it now. They were happy together, weren’t they, Julia?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she replied, but without much conviction: for to tell the truth she had never considered the matter before, and now that she was forced to consider it she felt increasingly doubtful about it. The happiest times had been when she and her mother escaped from Manor Gardens and went abroad together. However, it was no use saying that to Uncle Ran.

  Julia changed the subject. ‘What did you do?’ she asked. ‘It must have been difficult for you to come home.’

  ‘It was much too difficult. I went abroad and wandered about the world. You see, I wanted to escape from everybody. I couldn’t face my friends; I couldn’t bear their sympathy. That was wrong, too,’ he declared, shaking his head. ‘I should have been here with my parents. They had to bear it. I left them to bear it alone. My mother was quite ill with distress; my father was furious. He had always been proud of his name and lineage, he had enjoyed the respect and affection of the people in Leddiesford; he felt that Andrew had disgraced him. In one of his letters to me he said, “My son has made me ashamed to walk down the street and meet my neighbours. I have written and told him so.”’

  ‘How dreadful!’ Julia exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, poor Andrew! I can see now what a bitter pill that must have been. He had always been his father’s pride and joy.’

  ‘Oh, Uncle Ran, I don’t know what to say!’

  ‘There’s nothing to say,’ he replied. ‘You mustn’t worry about it, my dear. It’s an old, old story; it all happened long before you were born and it has nothing to do with you . . . but you can see why Andrew is so angry with me, can’t you? You can see why he’s so angry with you. I expect he feels you’ve deserted him and gone over to the enemy.’

  ‘I haven’t deserted him, Uncle Ran. He doesn’t want me.’

  ‘Doesn’t want you?’

  ‘Father never wanted me,’ said Julia in a low voice. ‘He wanted a son, so I was a disappointment from the very beginning. He wasn’t unkind to me—you mustn’t think that—but he just wasn’t interested in me. He scarcely ever spoke to me.’

  ‘I can’t believe it!’

  ‘It’s true—honestly. I tried hard to—to be friends with him, but it was no good. He just wasn’t interested.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound like Andrew.’

  ‘I know,’ she agreed thoughtfully. ‘I mean you’ve told me a lot about “Andrew” but it doesn’t sound like Father at all. He must have changed. People do change, don’t they?’

  ‘Don’t grieve about it, Julia. Don’t think about it too much. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but all the older folk in Leddiesford remember what happened so you were bound to hear the story sooner or later and it seemed better that you should know the truth.’
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br />   ‘I’m glad you told me. It explains a lot of things that have been puzzling me . . . things that I couldn’t understand.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘There was a picture of Harburn House in the attic,’ said Julia in a voice that was little more than a whisper. ‘Uncle Ran, he tore it up.’

  ‘Poor Andrew,’ said Uncle Randal sadly. ‘Well, well, don’t let’s talk about it any more.’

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Uncle Randal was in the home for several days undergoing various tests and examinations, and Julia went to Edinburgh to see him every afternoon. He was peaceful and cheerful and very comfortable, Sister Don looked after him well. To Julia she seemed alarming, tall and angular with very bright brown eyes, but Uncle Randal liked her.

  On the fourth day Neil came to supper at The Square House and Maggie gave them salmon and green peas. This was very different from Maggie’s usual frugal catering, but on making inquiries Julia was informed that a fine salmon had been caught in the river by Mrs. Inglis’s cousin and three nice steaks had been delivered at The Square House that morning ‘with Mrs. Inglis’s cousin’s compliments and he hopes Mr. Harburn is keeping better.’ The peas had been sent by Mrs. Dow, who lived opposite and kept lodgers.

  Julia was touched at this kindness on the part of her neighbours and said so to Neil.

  ‘Yes, they’re a decent lot,’ agreed Neil, as he tucked into the delicious food with enjoyment. ‘And of course they all love Uncle Ran. What have you been doing with yourself, Julia?’

  ‘Reading and writing letters, working in the garden and talking to Maggie.’

  ‘Uncle Ran is afraid you may be worrying about what he told you. I mean about the feud and all that. Of course I’ve known about it for ages but it wasn’t my business to tell you.’ Neil smiled and added, ‘I’ve often wanted to talk to you about it because it’s so interesting.’

  ‘Interesting? What do you mean?’

  ‘Here are two brothers,’ explained Neil. ‘Andrew steals Randal’s bride, and makes off with her like young Lochinvar, and twenty years later Randal steals Andrew’s daughter.’

  ‘It’s horrid to say that!’ cried Julia. ‘Nobody has stolen me—nobody could! I belong to myself. I’m here because Uncle Ran needs me.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ agreed Neil in soothing tones. ‘I didn’t mean it in a horrid way. Of course you belong to yourself; you’re quite a different kind of person from your mother.’

  ‘Uncle Ran said I was like her.’

  ‘You may be like her to look at,’ said Neil . . . and left it at that.

  There was silence for a few moments. Julia had been very fond of her mother and would have liked to defend her, but what could she say? Hitherto Julia had blamed her father for what had happened (he had behaved even more badly than young Lochinvar, for it was his own brother’s bride he had stolen); everyone seemed to blame him, and him alone; yet Julia realised that this was unfair.

  ‘I can’t understand it,’ she said at last with a heavy sigh. ‘It was a dreadful thing to do. They must have been mad—both of them.’

  ‘He was frightfully attractive—everybody says so,’ Neil reminded her. ‘And of course he was used to having his own way. Old Mrs. Hepburn told me that Andrew was thoroughly spoilt. She said, “Andrew was everybody’s darling.”’

  ‘Then—afterwards,’ said Julia thoughtfully. ‘Afterwards people in Leddiesford were angry with him.’

  ‘Furious with him. Everybody knew about it—all his friends—everybody! He could never go back to Leddiesford; he was an outcast.’

  ‘But he must have known that would happen!’

  ‘I wonder,’ said Neil. ‘Perhaps he thought he could do what he liked and get away with it because he was “everybody’s darling.”’

  *

  2

  They had finished supper by this time, so they went into the study, and in spite of the fact that it was a lovely fine evening Maggie had lighted the fire. (For in this respect—but in no other—Maggie resembled May Martineau and was of the opinion that a nice fire was conducive to a comfortable chat.)

  ‘There are other things that puzzle me,’ said Julia as they sat down together. ‘For instance, it seems so queer that Father is the one who is unwilling to make up the quarrel. It was Uncle Ran who was the injured party.’

  ‘It isn’t queer at all,’ replied Neil without hesitation. ‘Surely you realise that it’s much harder to forgive somebody you’ve injured than somebody who has injured you. Besides, the two brothers were quite different. Randal was a fine character, so he was able to get over it; Andrew was spoilt by too much admiration.’

  ‘That’s another thing that puzzles me,’ Julia declared. ‘I mean Uncle Ran told me a lot about “Andrew”—all about how gay and cheerful he was—and you say he was “everybody’s darling.” He isn’t like that now. He’s miserable.’

  ‘Miserable?’

  ‘Yes, he’s silent and moody. He wraps himself up in a big brown blanket. . . . Sometimes he doesn’t hear what you say to him.’

  ‘A big brown blanket,’ said Neil thoughtfully. ‘I know what you mean. That’s really an illness.’

  ‘An illness?’

  ‘A sickness of the brain. It’s not surprising under the circumstances . . . in fact it’s just what I would expect to happen to a man like that.’

  ‘What could have changed him?’

  ‘The quarrel, of course. You know, Julia, they did things much more sensibly in the old days. When two men quarrelled they went for each other with swords.’

  ‘You mean duels! But that was terribly wicked!’ cried Julia.

  ‘Not at all. It was much better than going for each other with words—much healthier.’

  ‘But Neil, they killed each other!’

  ‘Not always . . . in fact not often,’ said Neil cheerfully. ‘They just wounded each other and the blood flowed. There’s nothing like blood-letting to calm over-heated tempers. After that, honour was satisfied and they went their ways in peace. That’s what would have happened if your father and Uncle Ran had lived two hundred years ago . . . and it would have been better for both of them. As it was they belaboured each other with words and wounded each other inwardly. Wounds like that are very unhealthy indeed. They fester.’

  Julia was silent. Of course Neil was talking nonsense, but all the same she saw what he meant.

  ‘Your father ought to consult a psychiatrist,’ said Neil.

  ‘He wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing!’

  ‘That’s what he ought to do. A psychiatrist would get to the bottom of the trouble. I expect it’s a feeling of guilt and resentment—in fact I’m sure it is. You may not know it, Julia, but it’s a well-known fact that a feeling of guilt can react upon the body or the mind and make a person physically ill.’

  ‘I see,’ said Julia thoughtfully. ‘Yes, it might be that.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s that,’ declared Neil. ‘I remember reading about the case of a woman who had been paralysed for years by a subconscious feeling of guilt. When the cause of her trouble was discovered and removed she recovered and——’

  ‘Oh, of course!’ cried Julia. ‘Like the man at Capernaum whose friends let him down through the roof!’

  ‘Let him down through the roof? What happened?’ asked Neil eagerly.

  Julia was surprised that he had forgotten the story; she was about to remind him of it when the door opened and Maggie came in.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Maggie’s entrance put a stop to the conversation. Julia was quite pleased to see her, for to tell the truth she had had enough. It was exhausting to talk to Neil for long and he had given her plenty to think about. Neil felt differently; he was very much annoyed at the interruption.

  ‘What on earth do you want, Maggie?’ he exclaimed. ‘Can’t you see we’re talking?’

  ‘The only time you’re not talking is when you’re sleeping,’ retorted Maggie, smiling good-humouredly. ‘I wouldna have both
ered you, but there’s a letter come for Miss Julia and I thought it might be important. The lad from the Black Bull brought it. I said he was to wait till I saw if there was an answer but he was away off down the road like a scalded cat. It’s yon football,’ she added scornfully, as she went out and shut the door.

  Julia had taken the letter and was holding it in her hand unopened, gazing at it in dismay.

  ‘Why don’t you open it?’ asked Neil.

  She did not reply. She was afraid to open it. The address: ‘Miss Julia Harburn, The Square House’ was written in Morland’s handwriting. Morland! Morland here at Leddiesford! Morland at the Black Bull—of all places!

  Neil was getting impatient. ‘Why don’t you open it?’ he repeated. ‘What’s the good of sitting there and staring at it like that! Who is it from?’

  ‘From—Morland,’ said Julia with a little gasp. ‘Neil, it means he’s here, at the Black Bull! What can he be doing at the Black Bull?’

  ‘If you open it you’ll see. It’s that fellow you were engaged to, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes . . . but why has he come to Leddiesford?’

  ‘For pity’s sake open the letter! If you can’t open it yourself give it to me and I’ll open it.’ He held out his hand and repeated, ‘Give it to me.’

  This was out of the question, of course, so Julia was obliged to open it herself.

  The Black Bull,

  Leddiesford

  My dear Julia,

  You will be surprised to hear that I am at Leddiesford. The reason for my coming all this distance is twofold: namely to give you a message from your father and to have a talk with you about our own affairs. I have very good news for you.

  My intention was to call upon you at your uncle’s house but, on second thoughts, I decided to write to you as I fear your uncle may be prejudiced against me and I am doubtful of my reception. Perhaps you will be good enough to name an hour at which it will be convenient for you to see me.

  Yesterday I called upon your father at his office. He and Retta have returned from their cruise and are now in residence at Manor Gardens. I found him very much distressed at your sudden and ill-considered departure to Scotland—you will remember I warned you that he would be displeased—but he is willing to forgive you and let bygones be bygones if you return at once. I am sure you will agree that this shows a very forgiving spirit on his part.