CHAPTER EIGHT.
_August 15th_.It is three weeks since the moonlight picnic, and so many things havehappened since then, such awful, terrible things, that I don't know howto begin to tell them. I didn't think when I began this diary howthrilling it was going to be before I'd got half way through; but younever know what is going to happen in this world. It's awful howsuddenly things come. I don't think I can ever again feel confident andeasy-going, as I used to do. You read in books sometimes, "She was nolonger a girl, she was a woman," and it is like that with me.Everything seems different and more solemn, and I don't think I can everfrivol again in quite the same whole-hearted way.
To begin at the beginning: we had a very lively time for the next week,and I grew quite fond of Vere's friends, even Lady Mary, whom I hated atfirst, and they all made a fuss of me, and made me sing every night tillI felt quite proud. I invited Rachel over and over again, but she wouldnever accept our invitations; but Will came often, either to dinner orlunch, or for an odd call, and Vere neglected everyone for him, and wasso fascinating that I was in terror all the time. He admired her, ofcourse; he would have been blind if he hadn't, but I could not decide ifhe liked her or not. Sometimes I saw him smiling to himself in thequeer, half-scornful way he had done when they first met, and then I wassure he did not; but at other times he would watch her about the room,following every movement as if he couldn't help himself, and that's abad sign. Lorna has a sister who is married, and she knew the man wasgoing to propose, because he looked like that. Somehow I never had achance of a quiet talk, when I could have given him a hint, and it wasthinking about that and wondering how I could see him alone which mademe suddenly remember that it was a whole week and more since I had beena walk with father. I went hot all over at the thought. It was ghastlyto remember how I had planned and promised to be his companion, and tocare for him first of all, and then to realise how I had forsaken him atthe very first temptation! He was so sweet about it, too, nevercomplaining or seeming a bit vexed. Parents are really angels. It mustbe awful to have a child, and take such trouble with it all its life,and then to be neglected for strangers. I hadn't the heart to write inmy diary that night. I was too ashamed. I was worse than Vere, for Ihad posed as being so good and dutiful. I won't make any more vows, butI confess here with that I am a selfish pig, and I am ashamed of myself.
The next morning I could hardly wait until breakfast was over, I was soanxious to be off. I got my cap and ran down to the stable and slippedmy arm in father's as he stood talking to Vixen. He gave a little startof surprise--it hurt me, that start!--looked down at me and said,smiling--
"Well, dear, what is it?"
"Nothing. I'm coming with you!" I said, and he squeezed my handagainst his side.
"Thank you, dear, but I'm going a long round. I won't be back untillunch. Better not leave your friends for so long."
"Vere is with them, father. I want to come."
"What's the matter? Not had a quarrel, have you? Has Vere been--"
"No, no, she hasn't! _Nothing_ is the matter, except that I want you,and nobody else. Oh, father, don't be so horribly kind! Scold me--callme a selfish wretch! I know I have neglected you, dear. There wasalways something to do, and I--forgot, but really and truly I rememberedall the time. It isn't nonsense, father, it's true. Can youunderstand?"
"I've been nineteen myself, Babs; I understand. Don't worry, darling.I missed you, but I was glad that you were happy, and I knew your heartwas in the right place. We won't say anything more about it, but have ajolly walk and enjoy ourselves."
Oh, it is good to have someone who understands! If he had scolded orbeen reproachful I should have felt inclined to make excuses, but whenhe was so sweet and good I just loved him with all my heart, and prayedto be a better daughter to him all my life.
We had lovely walks after that, and on the third morning we met WillDudley, and once again he and I sat on a log waiting for father while heinterviewed a tenant. My heart quite thumped with agitation as Ithought that now was the time to lead the conversation skilfully roundto Vere, and insinuate delicately that she had a mania for making peoplefall in love with her, and that it didn't always mean as much as itseemed when she was sweet and gushing. It wasn't exactly an easy thingto do, but you can't be a guardian angel without a little trouble.
"So you have torn yourself away from your friends this morning," he saidat last. "How is it that you were allowed to escape? What is thespecial campaign for killing time to-day, if one may ask?"
"You may ask, but it's rude to be sarcastic. You are often lazyyourself, though in a different fashion. You love to lie on your backon the grass and do nothing but browse and stare up at the sky. Youhave told me so many times."
"Ah, but what of my thoughts? Under a semblance of ease I am in realityworking out the most abstruse problems. I did not mean to be sarcastic;I inquired in all seriousness how your valuable company could bespared."
"For the best of all reasons--because nobody wanted it! Captain Grantlywants Lady Mary, Lady Mary wants Captain Grantly. Miss Talbot wantssomeone she can't get, but it doesn't happen to be me; the rest all wantVere, and have no thought for anyone else. Men always do want to bewith Vere. Wherever she goes they fall in love with her and follow herabout. She is so lovely, and she--she likes to be liked. Everyone saysshe is so charming and irresistible--they have told her so since she wasa child--and she likes to prove that it was true. If--if anyone seemsto like anyone else better it--sort of--worries her, and makes her feelneglected."
"I see."
"Then, of course, she is extra specially nice, and seems to be moreinterested in him than anyone else."
"Pleasant for him!"
"It is, for a time. But if he trusted to it and believed that she wasreally in earnest, he might get to care himself, and then, when he foundout, he would be disappointed."
"Naturally so."
"It has happened like that before, several times, and sometimes thereare other people to be considered--I mean there might be another girlwhom the man had liked before, and when he had given her up, and foundthat-that--"
"That he had given up the substance and grasped the shadow--"
"Yes; then, of course, they would both be miserable, and it would beworse than ever."
"Naturally it would be."
He spoke in the same cool, half-jeering tone, then suddenly turned roundand bent his head down to mine, staring at me with bright grey eyes.
"Why not be honest, Babs, and not beat about the bush? You think thatmy peace is threatened and want to warn me of it, isn't that it, now?You are my very good friend, and I am grateful for your interest. Didyou think I was in danger?"
"Sometimes--once or twice! Don't be angry. I know you would be trueand loyal, but sometimes--I saw you watching her--"
"She is very lovely, Babs; the loveliest woman I have ever seen. Therewas some excuse for that."
"I know, I feel it myself, and it was just because I could understand alittle that I spoke. I thought quite likely that you might be angry atfirst, but it was better that you should be that than wretched in theend."
"Quite so; but I am not angry at all, only very grateful for yourbravery in tackling a difficult subject. I have a pretty good opinionof myself, but I am only a man, and other men have imagined themselvessecure and found out their mistake before now. Forewarned is forearmed.Thank you for the warning," and he smiled at me with a sudden flash ofthe eyes which left me hot and breathless.
Was I in time? Had he really begun to care for Vere so soon as this? Ilonged to say more, but dared not. All my courage had gone, and I wasthankful when father came out of the cottage and put an end to our_tete-a-tete_.
I thought there would be a difference after this, but there wasn't--nota bit. When Will came to the house he was as nice as ever to Vere, andseemed quite willing to be monopolised as much as she liked. If heavoided anyone
it was me, and I was not a bit surprised. People may saywhat they like, but they do bear you a grudge for giving them goodadvice. I sat in a corner and made cynical reflections to myself, andnobody took any notice of me, and I felt more cynical than ever, andwent to my bedroom and banged about the furniture to relieve myfeelings.
Vere came into my room soon after, and stood by the window talking whileI brushed my hair. The blind was up, for it was moonlight and I hate toshut it out. Her dress was of some soft silvery stuff, and, standingthere in the pale blue light, she looked oh, so lovely, more like afairy than a human creature! I am so glad I admired her then; I'm gladI told her that I did; I'm glad, glad, glad that I was nice and lovingas a sister ought to be, and that we kissed and put our arms round eachother when we said good night.
"Sleep well, little girl, you look tired. We can't let you lose yourbonny colour," she said, in her, pretty caressing way; nobody can be assweet as Vere when she likes.
I was tired, but I sat by the window for quite a long time after sheleft, thinking, thinking, thinking. I can't tell what I thoughtexactly, so many things passed through my head, and when I said myprayers I hardly said any words at all; I just put down my head andtrusted God to understand me better than I did myself. I had so much tomake me happy, but I was not happy somehow. I had so much to make mecontent, yet there was something missing that made everything else seemblank. I wanted to be good, and such horrid, envious feelings rose upin my heart. In my dear little room, at my own dear little table, Iasked God to help me, and to take care of me whatever happened.
And He did, but it was not in the way I expected.
At last the moon disappeared behind the clouds which had been gatheringfor some time, and I went to bed and fell fast asleep as soon as my headtouched the pillow, as I always do, no matter how agitated I am. Isuppose it's being nineteen and in such good health. "How long I sleptI cannot tell," as they say in ghost stories, but suddenly I woke upwith a start and a sort of horrid feeling that something was wrong. Theroom felt close and heavy, and there was a curious noise coming fromoutside the door, a sort of buzzing, crackling noise. I didn't get upat once, for I felt stupid and heavy; it was a minute or two before Iseemed really able to think, and then--oh, I shall never forget thatmoment!--I knew what it was. I felt it! I went cold all over, and mylegs shook under me as I stepped on to the floor.
The air was thick, and it smelt. My door was the nearest to thestaircase, and when I opened it a great cloud of smoke rolled in myface. For a moment it was all cloud and darkness, then a light shot upfrom below, and the crackling noise was repeated. It was true, quitetrue. The house was on fire, and already the staircase was ablaze!
The Heart of Una Sackville Page 8
