CHAPTER NINETEEN.
We were very silent driving home in the brougham, and I refused to gointo Lorna's room, as I always did before going to bed, saying that Iwas too tired to talk. She looked anxious, but did not try to persuademe. I afterwards learnt that she went to Wallace instead, and sat upwith him for the greater part of the night.
I lay wide awake tossing and crying until five o'clock, when I fellasleep, and did not wake until nine. Lorna did not come to see me, and,though I dreaded her coming, I felt miserable because she stayed away.Every single morning she had come into my room and hugged and kissed me,and we had walked down to breakfast arm-in-arm. She must have beenvery, very angry to omit that ceremony!
I took a long time to dress, for I wanted Wallace to be safely startedon his rounds before appearing downstairs, and at last, just as I wasfeeling that I could not respectably linger another moment, the dooropened, and there, at last, stood Lorna.
She had been crying dreadfully. I could see that at a glance, for theeyelids were swollen and puffy, just as they used to be the firstmorning after our return to school. Mine were swollen, too, and westood staring miserably at each other, but not approaching a stepnearer, until at last she said coldly--
"Mother sent me upstairs to ask if you would prefer to have yourbreakfast in bed. She thought you were not up."
"Oh, yes, I have been waiting. Lorna, don't look at me like that!" Icried desperately. "I'm miserable too, and you ought not to turnagainst me--you are my friend."
"Wallace is my brother," said Lorna simply. Her lip quivered. "I satup with him until four o'clock this morning. He has always been such ahappy, cheerful boy. I did not know he could be so miserable. If youcould have seen and heard him talk, you would have felt broken-heartedfor him--even you!"
"Even you!" I repeated reproachfully. "Am I a monster, Lorna, that youtalk to me like that? Can't you understand that I feel a hundred timesworse than you can possibly do? I never, never thought that when I wasin trouble you would be the first person to turn against me."
"Neither did I. I have been too fond of you, Una. I admired you somuch, and was so proud of having you for my friend that I have beenunjust to other people for your sake. I often took your part at schoolwhen I knew you were in the wrong, simply because I was afraid of makingyou angry. It was cowardly of me, and this is my reward! Oh, Una, yousay you are sorry, but you knew it was coming! You are too clever notto have seen it long ago. If it had been another man I should havespoken out, but a brother is almost like oneself, so one can'tinterfere. But I hinted--you know I hinted, Una--and I saw by your facethat you understood. If you didn't care for him, why didn't you go homewhen it was first arranged? We all took it as a good sign when youagreed to stay on, and Wallace was so happy about it. Poor boy! Hewill never be happy again. He says he will go abroad, and father hasbeen looking forward all these years to his help. It will break hisheart if he loses Wallace!"
Everyone was broken-hearted, it seemed, and they all blamed me, and saidit was my fault. I felt inclined to jump out of the window, and put anend to it at once. I did turn towards it, and I must have looked prettydesperate, for Lorna came forward quickly, and took hold of me by thearm.
"Come down and talk to mother. She is all alone, and she is old andwill understand better than I do. Oh, Una, I shall always love you! Ishan't be able to help it, whatever you have done. I didn't mean to beunkind, but I am--so--miserable!"
I gripped her hand, but couldn't speak; we were both struggling not tocry all the way downstairs, and I couldn't eat any breakfast; I felt asif I could never eat again. Mrs Forbes came into the room just as Ileft the table, and Lorna went out at once, as if by a previousarrangement. It was awful! Mrs Forbes looked so old and ill andworried, and she was so kind. I could have borne it better if she hadbeen cross to me.
"Sit down, dear. Come close to the fire, your hands feel cold," shesaid, pushing me gently into an easy chair, and poking the coals into ablaze. "You and I want a little talk to each other, I think, and weshall be quite uninterrupted here. My poor boy has told me of hisdisappointment, but, indeed, he did not need to tell me. I could seewhat had happened by his face. I am very disappointed, too. I thoughthe would have very different news to tell me, and I should have beenvery happy to welcome you as a daughter. We have known you by name forso many years that you did not seem like a stranger even when you firstarrived, and we have been very happy together these five weeks--"
"Oh, very happy! I have had a lovely time. I shall never forget howhappy I have been."
She looked at me anxiously, her eyebrows knitted together.
"Then if you have been so happy, I do not see why-- Let us speak out,dear, and understand each other thoroughly. My boy and I have alwaysbeen close friends, and if I am to be of help or comfort to him now Imust understand how this trouble has come about. Wallace is notconceited--he has a very modest estimation of his own merits, but heseems to have expected a different answer. Sometimes in these affairsyoung people misunderstand each other, and little sorenesses arise,which a few outspoken words can smooth away. If I could act aspeacemaker between you two, I should be very thankful. My children'shappiness is my first consideration nowadays. If there is anything Ican do, just tell me honestly. Speak out as you would to your ownmother."
But I had nothing to tell. I shook my head, and faltered nervously--
"No, there is nothing--we have had no quarrels. I like Wallace verymuch, oh, very much indeed, but not--I could never--I couldn't beanything more than his friend."
"Is there then someone else whom you care for?"
There were several people, but I couldn't exactly say so to her--itseemed so rude. Wallace was a nice, kind boy, but he couldn't comparefor interest with--Jim Carstairs, for instance, dear, silent, loyal,patient Jim, who gives all, and asks nothing in return, or even jollylittle Mr Nash, who is always happy and smiling, and trying to makeother people happy. I like them both better than Wallace, to saynothing of-- And then a picture rose before me of a tall, lean figuredressed in a tweed shooting-suit, of a sunburnt face, out of whichlooked blue eyes, which at one moment would twinkle with laughter, andat the next grow stern and grave and cold. They could soften, too, andlook wonderfully tender. I had seen them like that just once or twicewhen he looked at me, and said, "Una!" and at the remembrance, for somestupid reason the blood rushed to my face, and there I sat blushing,blushing, blushing, until my very ears tingled with heat.
I said nothing, and Mrs Forbes said nothing, but looking up at the endof a horrid silence, I saw that her face had entirely changed inexpression since I had seen it last. All the softness had left it; shelooked the image of wounded dignity.
"I understand! There is nothing more to say, then, except that if youwere so very sure of your own feelings, I cannot understand how it isthat you have allowed the matter to get this length. I am thankful toknow that my boy's principles are strong enough to prevent hisdisappointment doing him any real harm. It might have been verydifferent with many young men. At the best it is a hard thing for us tosee his young life clouded, and you will understand that it is our dutyto protect him from further suffering. You will not think meinhospitable if I suggest that your visit had better come to an end atonce."
My cheeks burnt. It was humiliation indeed to be told to go in thatsummary fashion, but I knew I deserved it, and I should have beenthankful to leave that very moment.
"I will go to-day. There is a train at one o'clock. I can send atelegram from the station, and tell mother I am coming. I will go up-stairs now and pack," I cried, and she never protested a bit, but saidquite quietly that she would order a cab to take me to the station.Talk about feeling small! I simply cringed as I went out of that room.
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The carriage was waiting for me at the station at the end of a miserablejourney, but no one was in it. I had hoped that father wo
uld come tomeet me. I could have spoken to him, and he would have understood.John said he was out for the day with a shooting-party, and when Ireached the house another disappointment awaited me, for I was met by anannouncement that mother also had been obliged to go out to keep anengagement.
"She hopes to be home by five o'clock," said the servant. "Miss Vereand Lady Mary are in the blue sitting-room. Mr Dudley has just come tocall."
I had forgotten that Lady Mary was staying at the house, and it made mefeel as if I were more superfluous than ever, for Vere would not need mewhen she had her best friend at hand, and, somehow or other, Will Dudleywas just the last person in the world I wanted to see just then. Therewas nothing for it, however; I had to go upstairs and stand the horribleordeal of being cross-questioned about my unexpected return.
"Don't tell me it is an outbreak of small-pox!" cried Lady Mary,huddling back in her chair, and pretending to shudder at my approach."That's the worst of staying in a doctor's house--you simply courtinfection! If it's anything interesting and becoming, you may kiss meas usual, but if it's small-pox or mumps, I implore you to keep at theother end of the room! I'm not sure that mumps wouldn't be the worse ofthe two. I can't endure to look fat!"
"Has Lorna turned out a villain in disguise? Have you quarrelled andbidden each other a tragic farewell?" asked Vere laughingly.
She looked thinner than ever, but her cheeks were flushed, and her eyesas bright as stars. As for Will Dudley, he stared at the pattern of thecarpet, and his eyebrows twitched in the impatient way I know so well.I think he saw that I was really in trouble, and was vexed with thegirls for teasing me.
"Thank you, everyone was quite well when I left. You need not be afraidof infection, and Lorna is nicer than ever. We have certainly notquarrelled."
"Then why this thusness?" asked Lady Mary, and Vere burst into a laugh.
"Scalps, Babs, scalps! I see it all! My mind misgave me as soon as Iheard of the fascinating Wallace. And was it really so serious that youhad to fly at a moment's notice?"
I simply got up and marched out of the room. It was too much to bear.I sat in my own room all alone for over an hour, and hated everybody.Oh, I _was_ miserable!
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_11 PM._I have been thinking seriously over things, and have decided to put awaythis diary, and not write in it any more for six months or a year. Itwill be better so, for at present I am in such a wretched, unsettledstate of mind that what I write would not be edifying, but only painfulto read in time to come.
I've been reading over the first few pages to-night, and they seemwritten by quite a different person--a happy, self-confident, complacentUna, who felt perfectly satisfied of coming triumphantly through any andevery situation. This Una is a very crestfallen, humble-mindedcreature, who knows she has failed, and dreads failing again; but I wantto be good, through it all I long to be good! O dear God, who loves me,and understands, take pity on me, and show me the way!
The Heart of Una Sackville Page 19
