CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
About the middle of September Will went away to pay a visit to hisuncle. He called to say good-bye when he knew I was out, so we did notmeet again, and no one had any idea of what had happened. Isn't itstrange how far away you feel at times from even your nearest relations?
"Not e'en the dearest heart and next our own, Knows half the reason why we smile or sigh!"
as it says in the "Christian Year." A girl's parents think: "She has acomfortable home, and nice food and clothes, and we are always thinkingof her; she ought to be happy, and if she isn't she is a naughty,ungrateful child!" They don't remember that the child is a woman, andwants her very own life! And other people say: "She is a well-off girl,that Una Sackville, she has everything that money can buy!" but moneycan't take the ache out of your heart. And your sister thinks that youshould be so excited and eager at the prospect of being her bridesmaid,that your cup of happiness ought to simply pour over on the spot. Ah,well, perhaps it's just as well to keep your troubles to yourself!
The old uncle was weak and failing, so Will stayed on with him untilChristmas. I suppose he was glad of the excuse. He never wrote, butRachel sent me a note now and then, and mentioned that he had been downto Bournemouth several times, but she is a poor correspondent at thebest of times, and her letters seemed emptier than ever. When Lornawrites, you feel as if she were speaking, and she tells you all thenice, interesting little things you most want to hear, but Rachel'sletters are just a dull repetition of your own.
"Dearest Una,--I am so glad to hear you are keeping well, and feelinghappier about your sister's health. It is very nice to know that dearMrs Sackville is so much stronger this winter, and that your father isfull of health and vigour. So you are expecting a visit from yoursoldier brother, and are all greatly excited at the prospect of seeinghim after so many years, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera." What is one todo with people who write like that? Just at the end she would say,"Will paid us a flying visit last week, and promised to come again nextSaturday. Believe me, dear Una..." Her letters left me as hungry anddissatisfied as when they arrived, but they brought all the news I hadfor three long months.
At home the atmosphere was very bright and cheery, for Vere improved soquickly that she and Jim actually began to talk of marriage in thesummer. The old doctor came up and croaked warnings when he heard ofit. He said that Vere would need care for a long time to come, and thatin his opinion it would be wiser to wait until she was perfectlystrong--say a matter of two or three years longer; but Jim just laughedin his face, and said he flattered himself that he could take bettercare of his wife than anyone else could possibly do. So it was settled,and the astounding marvel has come to pass that Vere is so engrossed inthinking about Jim and their future life together, that she iscomparatively indifferent to clothes. When I sounded her as tobridesmaids' costume, she said: "Oh, settle it yourself, dear. I don'tmind, so long as you are pleased!" Two years ago she would haveinsisted on my wearing saffron, if it had been the fashionable colour,and have worried the whole household into fits about the shape of thesleeves! She is so loving and sweet to mother, too, not only in words,but in a hundred taking-pains kind of ways, and she never jeers or hurtsmy feelings as she used to do. Jim is going to have a very nice wife,and he deserves it, dear old patient thing!
In November, just as it was all settled about the wedding, Spencer camehome from Malta, and stayed for a month. We were all simply burstingwith pride over him, and the whole neighbourhood came up in batches todo obeisance. Why one should be prouder of a soldier who has never evenseen a fight than of a nice, hard-working clerk, I can't think, but thefact remains that you _are_, and I did wish it were the fashion forSpencer to wear his lovely uniform, instead of a dull grey tweed suitlike anybody else! The whole family was busy and happy and engrossed inthe present. Nobody guessed what years those weeks seemed to me. I wasquite bright all day long, but when I got to bed...
So the time went on, one day after another. Spencer went back to Malta,and Jim came down to stay for Christmas, also Lady Mary and her husband,and I sat up in my room making presents, and trying to live in thepresent and not look ahead. Then Christmas morning came, and among astack of cards was a letter from Rachel--an extraordinary letter!
"I am quite well again," she wrote, "but mother is very frail, and takescold at every change in the weather. Even this sheltered place seemstoo bleak for her, and we are seriously contemplating going abroad--notto the Continent, but a much longer journey--to South Africa itself!You may have heard that mother spent her early life at the Cape, and nowthat father has gone it is only natural that she should wish to spendher last years near her brothers and sisters. It will be a wrench forme to leave England, and all the dear friends who have been so kind tome, but I feel more and more strongly that it is the right thing to do.We shall try to sell the Grange, but shall, of course, come back for afew weeks after the New Year to pack up and make final arrangements, if,as I think probable, our plans are settled by that time."
The letter went on to discuss other subjects, but I could not bring mymind to attend to them. I just sat staring at that one paragraph, andreading it over again and again and again.
Going to the Cape! To spend her mother's last days! Mrs Greaves wasnot an old woman. She might easily live for another ten or fifteenyears. Did Rachel seriously mean to imply that she herself was going toremain in South Africa all that time? And what about Will? Was hesupposed to wait patiently until she returned, or to expatriate himselfin order to join her? I felt utterly bewildered, and the worst of itwas that there was no one near who could throw any light on the subject,or answer one of my questions. At one moment I felt indignant withRachel for making no mention of Will's interest; at the next I marvelledhow a mother, so kind and devoted as Mrs Greaves, could possibly demandsuch a sacrifice of her daughter. What would Will say when the projectwas unfolded to him? After his long waiting he would be quite justifiedin taking a strong position and refusing to be put aside any longer.From what I knew of him, I fancied that he would do so--I hoped hewould. Nothing could be more trying and dangerous for him or for methan a long, dragging engagement, with Rachel at the other side of theworld--an engagement which held him bound, yet left him practicallyfree.
I knew that Will was to spend Christmas at Bournemouth, and wondered ifhe would call on us on his return to discuss the astonishing news, butthough father met him once or twice, he never came near the house untilthis morning, this wonderful never-to-be-forgotten morning when Bennettcame to me as I was writing in the library and said that Mr Dudley hadcalled to see me, and was waiting in the drawing-room.
To see me! Not mother, nor father, nor Vere, but me! My heart gave agreat leap of excitement, and I trembled so violently that I couldhardly walk across the floor. It must be something extraordinary indeedwhich brought Will on a special mission to me!
He was standing by the fireplace as I entered the room, and the momenthe saw me he darted forward and seized my hands in both his. The lasttime we had met he would not even shake hands at parting. I rememberedthat with another thrill of excitement; then he drew me towards thefireplace and began speaking in quick, excited tones--
"Una, it is all over! Rachel has set me free! It is her own doing,entirely her own wish. I had no idea of it until Christmas Eve, whenshe sent me a letter telling me that she was going to South Africa withher mother, and could not continue our engagement. She asked me not tocome to Bournemouth as arranged, but I went all the same. I could notaccept a written word after all these years. I wanted to satisfy myselfthat she was in earnest."
"And was she?"
"Absolutely! I could not touch her decision--sweet and gentle andkindly as ever, but perfectly determined to end it once for all."
"Do you think that Mrs Greaves--"
"No, she has had nothing to do with it. The decision was as great asurprise to her as to me. She told me that she would never haveconsented to the Sout
h African scheme if Rachel had not first confidedin her that she wished to break her engagement, and would be glad to beout of England. I think she is genuinely sorry. She and I were alwaysgood friends."
"Then why--why--why--"
"A matter of feeling entirely. Stay, I will give you her letter toread. It will explain better than I can, and there is nothing that shecould mind your seeing."
He took an envelope from his coat pocket, unfolded the sheet of paperwhich it contained, and held it before me. I was so shaky and tremblingthat I don't think I could have held it myself. It was dated December23rd, and on the first page Rachel spoke of the proposed journey inalmost the same words which she had used in her letter to me, written onthe same date. Then came the surprise.
"You will wonder, dear Will, if I am altogether forgetting you and yourclaims in the making of these plans; indeed, I never can be indifferentto anything which concerns your happiness, but I have something to sayto you to-night which cannot longer be delayed. I am going to ask youto set me free from our engagement. I have come to the conclusion thatI have been mistaken in many things, and that it would not be a rightthing for me to become your wife. Please don't imagine that I amdisappointed in you, or have any sins to lay to your charge. I amthankful to say that my affection and esteem are greater now than on theday when we were engaged, and I should be deeply grieved if I thoughtthere could ever be anything approaching a quarrel between us. I wantto be good, true friends, dear Will, but only friends--not lovers. Isee now that I should never have allowed anything else, but you must begenerous, dear, and forgive me, as you have already forgiven so manyfailings.
"Don't try to dissuade me. You know I am not given to rash decisions,and I have thought over nothing else than this step for some weeks past.I know I am right, and in the future you will see it too, howeverstrangely it strikes you now. It would perhaps be better if you did notcome here to-morrow as arranged--"
The rest of the letter I knew already, so I did not trouble to look atit, but turned back and read the last paragraphs for the second time, "Ihave been mistaken in many things!" "My affection is greater than onthe day when we were engaged." "I have thought over nothing else forsome weeks past." Those three sentences seemed to stand out from therest, and to print themselves on my brain. I looked anxiously in Will'sface, and saw in it joy, agitation, a wonderful tenderness, but noshadow of the suspicion which was tearing at my own heart. How blindmen are sometimes, especially when they don't care to see!
"She has never loved me!" he declared. "She had, as she says, anaffection for me as she might have had for a friend, a brother--anaffection such as I had for her, but she does not know--we neither of usknew the meaning of--love!"
I looked at the carpet, and there rose before me a vision of Rachel'sface when Will appeared unexpectedly on the scene; when she heard thetones of his voice in the distance; when she watched him out of sightafter he had said "Good-bye." In his actual presence she was quiet andprecise, but at these moments her eyes would shine with a deep glow ofhappiness, her lips would tremble, and her cheeks turn suddenly fromwhite to pink. Not love him--Rachel not love Will! Why, she adoredhim! He was more to her than anything and everybody in the world puttogether. She might be able to deceive him, but nothing could make mebelieve that she had broken off the engagement for her own happiness.She was thinking of someone else, not herself. Who was it? Ah, thatwas the question. Her mother, or Will, Will and perhaps--me! Was itpossible that she had been conscious of what had happened on theafternoon of the motor accident, and that, in consideration of ourfeelings, she had kept her own counsel until a sufficient time hadelapsed to enable her to end her engagement in a natural manner? Anyonewho knew Rachel as I do would realise in a flash that it was justexactly what she would do in the circumstances. Then, if this wereindeed the case, the nervous shock which prostrated her for so long wasnot physical, but mental. Oh, poor Rachel! Yet you could smile at me,and be sweet and gentle in the first moments of your agony! It was allI could do to keep back the tears, as I thought of what she must haveendured during these last three months; but through all my agitation onedetermination remained unshaken: I must not let Will see my suspicions;Rachel's secret must be loyally guarded. He was talking incessantly--aquick, excited stream of words. I came back from my dreams to pick up ahalf-finished sentence--
"Too good to be true. She has filled so large a place in my life. Ihave such a strong admiration for her that it would have been a realpain to have parted coldly. But to keep her as my friend, to know thather affection is unchanged, and yet to be free to seek my own happinessis such a marvellous unravelling of the skein that I can hardly realisemy good fortune. I came back last night, and could hardly wait untilthis morning to tell you my news. Una, you understand! I ask nothingof you to-day, it is not the time to speak of ourselves. I shall goback to my uncle, and stay with him for the next few months. He is veryfrail, and my place seems to be with him at present, but in the spring,if I come back in the spring, will you see me then? Will you let metell you--"
I moved away from him hurriedly.
"No, no--don't say it! Say nothing to-day, but just `Good-bye.' Idon't want to think of the future--it's too soon. You said we must notthink of ourselves."
"I did. You are quite right, but sometimes it is difficult to beconsistent. You are not angry with me for coming to-day?"
He held out his hand as he spoke, and--I was inconsistent, too! I laidmine in it, and we stood with clasped fingers, quite still and silentfor a long, long time, but I think we said many things to each other,all the same.
Then Will went away--my Will!--and I came upstairs to my room, and satdown all alone. No, that is not true--I can never fed alone now as longas I live!
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.
_January 20th_.Mrs Greaves and Rachel came home after the New Year and set to work atonce to break up the old home. All the furniture is to be sold byauction, and the house is to be sold too, or let upon a very long lease.I wanted to see Rachel, but dreaded seeing her, at the same time, so atlast I sent a letter asking when I might come, and she wrote back a dearlittle affectionate note fixing the very next afternoon. When I arrivedshe took me upstairs to the sitting-room where I used to spend my dayswhen my ankle was bad, and fussed over me in just the same old way. Shelooked--different! Just as sweet, just as calm, but--oh, I can'tdescribe it, as if something had gone which had been the mainspring ofit all.
I should never have dared to mention Will, but she began almost at onceto speak of the broken engagement, quite calmly and quietly, repeatingthat it was the best thing for both, and that she should be perfectlycontent if she were satisfied about Will's future.
"Nothing will give me greater pleasure than to hear that Will is happilymarried and settled down. He has been too long alone, and would sothoroughly appreciate a home of his own. I have done him a greatinjustice by condemning him to so many lonely years, but our engagementneed be no hindrance now. It was known to very few people, and,"--shesmiled a little sadly--"even those who did know refused to take itseriously. They saw at once what I was so slow in discovering--that wewere unsuited to each other. We were thrown together at a time when hewas depressed and lonely, otherwise the engagement could never havehappened. It was a great mistake, but it is over now, and he must notsuffer from its consequences. I am going away, but I shall wait to hearof his happiness, and I hope it may come soon."
Our eyes met. I looked at her steadily, and the colour rose in hercheeks and spread up to the roots of her hair. She shrank back in herchair and put up her hands as if to ward me off, but I just sank on myknees before them and held them tightly in mine.
"Oh, Rachel!" I cried. "I know, I know! You can't deceive me, dear.You have done this for our sakes, not your own. Oh, I hoped you hadbeen too much engrossed to notice what happened that day. When you saidnothing about it, I was so relieved and thankful, for truly, Rac
hel, itwas only an impulse. Nothing of the sort had ever happened before--nota word or a look to which you could have objected. You believe that,don't you, dear? Say you believe it."
Her fingers tightened round mine.
"Indeed, indeed, I do! You have been all that is true and loyal, and sohas Will. There is no one to blame but myself. I knew from the firstthat he was attracted to you, and that you suited him better than Icould ever do; but I shut my eyes--I did not want to see. Don't besorry for what happened; it is a great blessing for us all that I wasnot allowed to deceive myself any longer. You say it was only animpulse. Ah, Una, but the impulse which made him turn to you and forgetme is too clear a warning to be neglected. It showed how his heart laybetter than any deliberate action."
I could not deny it. I did not want to deny it, deeply as I felt forher suffering. I laid my head in her lap, so that she should not see myface, and begged her to forgive me.
"I feel such a wretch to take my happiness at the expense of yours. Youare an angel, Rachel, to be so sweet and forgiving. I should be a furyof rage and jealousy if I were in your place, but you give it all upwithout a murmur."
She smiled at that--such a sad little smile.
"I have nothing to give. It was yours all the time. When I found thatout, I could not be mean enough to hold an empty claim. I never meantyou to know my real reason, but since you have found it out foryourself, you must promise me not to let it interfere with Will'shappiness. Don't let me feel that he has to suffer any more because ofme. Never let him suspect the truth. He has such a tender heart thatit would trouble him sorely if he knew that I had discovered his secret,and I don't want any shadow on our friendship. Promise me, Una, thatyou will never let him know."
"I promise, Rachel. I had made up my mind about that long ago."
I did not tell her that in making my decision I had considered herfeelings, not his. I had imagined that for her pride's sake she wouldnot wish him to know her real reasons for breaking off the engagement.But Rachel herself had no thought of her pride; her anxiety was simplyand wholly for Will's comfort.
I looked up at her in a passion of admiration, and in that moment aquestion which had tormented me for weeks past seemed to find itssolution.
"Rachel," I cried, "I know now why this has happened! I have beenwondering how anyone so good and unselfish as you could be allowed tohave such a trouble as this, and how it could be for the best that youare passed over for a creature like me, but I can understand now. Youare too valuable to be shut up in just one home; so many people needyou--you can help so wonderfully all round that you are kept free forthe general good. The world needs you. You belong to the world."
Her face lit up with happiness.
"Oh, Una, what a lovely thought! I shall remember that, and it will besuch a comfort. Kiss me, dear. I am so glad that it is you. I am sothankful that Will has chosen someone whom I can love."
We talked a good deal more, and she said a lot of lovely things that Ishall remember all my life. It was as though she were giving over thecharge of Will into my hands, and they are such hasty incapable handsthat they need all the guiding they can get. She told, me all about himas she had known him all these years--his good qualities, which I was toencourage; his weaknesses, which I was to discourage; his faults, (ah!Will dear, they were nothing compared to mine), which I was to help himto fight. She looked upon it all so seriously, that marriage seemed tobecome a terrible as well as a beautiful thing. Can it really be truethat I have such wonderful power to influence Will for good or evil?Oh, I must be good, I must, I must, for his welfare is fifty thousandtimes dearer to me than my own!
After this I was constantly at the Grange, and worked like a charwomanhelping to pack, and getting ready for the sale. I think I was reallyof use, for Rachel has not much taste, and I re-arranged things so thatthey looked ever so much more attractive, and so brought bigger prices.We had very happy times together, and were quite merry, sometimessitting down to tea on the top of boxes, with our dresses pinned up andcovered with aprons, but we never spoke of Will again. That wasfinished. The last two nights they were in England Mrs Greaves andRachel spent in our home, and I drove down and saw them off at thestation. I knew who was going to meet them at the other end, but eventhen we did not mention him. Rachel just clung tightly to me, andwhispered "_Remember_!" and that said everything. Then the train puffedslowly out of the station, and I caught one glimpse of her white, whiteface through the window. Oh! if I live to be a hundred I shall never,never forget her, and I shall love her more than anyone else except myvery own people, but I don't think I shall ever see Rachel again in thisworld!
_June 25th_.Vere's wedding eve. My poor neglected diary must come out of hiding tohear the record of a time so wonderful to her and to me. I have hadvery little leisure for thinking of my own affairs since Rachel left,for a wedding means a tremendous amount of work and management, when itinvolves inviting relations from all parts of the world, buying as manyclothes as if you were never expected to see a shop again, and choosingand furnishing a brand-new house. Neither mother nor Vere are strongenough to do much running about, so all the active preparations fell tome, and I had to go up to town to scold dressmakers and hurry updecorators, and threaten cabinet makers, and tell plumbers andironmongers that they ought to be ashamed of themselves, and matchpatterns, and choose trimmings, and change things that wouldn't do,until Vere said, laughingly, that the wedding seemed far more mine thanhers. It kept me so busy that I had no time to dream until I went tobed at nights and then I used to be awake for hours, thinking of Rachelaway at the other side of the world, happy in her mother's restoredhealth, and, to judge from the tone of her letters, thoroughly enjoyingthe complete change of scene after the very quiet life she had led theselast years; thinking of Lorna, my dear old faithful Lorna, as good afriend to me as ever, in spite of all the trouble I caused her. It is ayear ago now since that wretched affair, and Wallace seems almost hisold self again, she says, so I hope he will soon have forgotten allabout me. I feel hot and cold whenever I think about it. It is_wicked_ to play at being in love! Suppose I had accepted Wallace outof pique, as I thought of doing for a few mad moments; suppose I hadbeen going to marry him to-morrow--how awful, how perfectly awful Ishould feel now! How different from Vere, whose face looks so sweet andsatisfied that it does one good to look at her.
I have been slaving all day long arranging flowers and presents, andafter tea mother just insisted that I should come up to my room to restfor an hour, so here I am, sitting on the very same chair on which I satin those far-away pre-historic ages when I began this diary, a silly bitof a girl just home from school. I am not so very ancient now as yearsgo, but I have come through some big experiences, and to-day especiallyI feel full of all sorts of wonderful thoughts and resolutions, becauseto-morrow--to-morrow, Will is coming, and we shall meet again!
I think Vere guesses, I am almost sure that she does, for she and Jimmade such a point of his coming to the wedding, and she gave me his noteof acceptance with such a sympathetic little smile. Oh, how anxious Ihad been until that letter arrived, and now that it is all settled I canhardly rest until to-morrow. Rest! How can I rest? He arrives lateto-night, so we shall meet first of all in church. I shall feel as if,like Vere, I am going to meet my bridegroom. It will seem like a doublewedding--hers and mine.
_The Wedding Day_.It has all passed off perfectly, without a single hitch or drawback. Tobegin with, the weather was ideal, just a typical warm June day, withthe sky one deep, unclouded blue. As I looked out of my window thismorning the lawns looked like stretches of green velvet, bordered withpink and cream, for it is to be a rose wedding, and the date was fixedto have them at their best. The house is full of visitors, andeverybody seemed overflowing with sympathy and kindness.
It must be horrid to be married in a place where you are not
known, orin a big town where a lot of strangers collect to stare at you, as ifyou were part of a show. This dear little place is, to a man, almost asmuch interested and excited as we are ourselves; the villagers are allfriends, for either we have known them since they were babies, or theyhave known us since we were babies, which comes to the same thing. Theold almshouse women had a tea yesterday, and sat in the gallery inchurch, and the Sunday-school children had a tea to-day, and lined thechurch path and scattered roses. The Mother's Meeting was in thegallery, too, and the Band of Hope somewhere else, and the Girls'Friendly by the door. The whole place was _en fete_, with penny flagshanging out of the cottage windows, and streamers tied across the HighStreet. It all felt so nice, and kind, and homey.
There were eight bridesmaids, and we really _did_ look nice, in whitechiffon dresses, shepherdess hats wreathed with roses, and long whitestaves wreathed with the same.
As for Vere, she was a vision of loveliness, all pink and white andgold. We walked together downstairs into the hall, where father waswaiting to receive us. Poor father! the tears came into his eyes as hetook her hand, and looked down at her. It must be hard to bring up achild, and go through all the anxiety and care and worry, and then, justwhen she is old enough to be a real companion, to have to give her up,and see her go away with a "perfect stranger," as Spencer says.
Last night, when I was going to bed, father held me in his arms, andsaid:
"Thank heaven, I shall have you left, Babs! It will be a long timebefore I can spare you to another man."
And I hugged him, and said nothing, for I knew... Ah! well, they did itthemselves once on a time, so they can't be surprised!
The church was crowded with people, and everybody turned to stare at usas we came in, but I saw only one face--Will's face--with the light Imost loved shining in his eyes. I stood at Vere's side, and heard herrepeat her vows in sweet, firm tones, which never faltered, but Jim'svoice trembled as he made that touching promise of faithfulness "insickness and in health," and I saw his hand tighten over hers.
It was like a dream--the swelling bursts of music, the faces of theclergy; behind all, the great stained window, with the Christ lookingdown... Then the wedding march pealed out, we took our places in thecarriages, and drove home once more.
Vere and her husband stood beneath one of the arches of the pergola, toreceive the congratulations of their friends, a picture couple, as happyas they were handsome. The sky was like a dome of blue, the scent ofroses was in the air, and Will came to meet me across the green, greengrass.
"Una!" he cried. "_At last_!" and clasped my hand in his.
Oh, I am terribly happy! I should like everyone in the world to be ashappy as I am to-day!
THE END.
The Heart of Una Sackville Page 25
