Love and hatred

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

  CHAPTER IV

  Laura and Oliver Tropenell walked across the grass in silence, and stillin silence they passed through under the great dark arch formed by thebeech trees.

  Laura was extraordinarily moved and excited. Her brother, her dear, dearGillie, coming home? She had taken the surprising news very quietly, butit had stirred her to the depths of her nature. Without even telling herof what he was going to do, the man now walking by her side had broughtabout the thing that for years she had longed should come to pass.

  In her husband Laura had become accustomed to a man who was cautious anddeliberate to a fault, and who, as so often happens, carried thispeculiarity even more into the affairs of his daily life than into hisbusiness. Often weeks would go by before Godfrey would make up his mindto carry out some small, necessary improvement connected with theestate.

  Yet here was Oliver, who, without saying a word to her about it, haddecided that Gillie should come to England just to see the sister he hadnot seen for seven years! Laura began to think it possible that afterall Godfrey _would_ make it up with her brother. Oliver Tropenell had anextraordinary influence over Godfrey Pavely; again and again, asregarded small matters, he had, as it were, made Godfrey's mind up forhim.

  A feeling of deep gratitude welled up in her heart for the silent manby her side. She longed for him to speak now, as he had spoken to her,kindly, conciliatingly, but a few minutes ago, in the drawing-room.

  But Oliver stalked along dumbly in the intense darkness.

  And then suddenly she remembered, with a miserable feeling ofdiscomfort, and yes, of shame, that she could hardly expect him to be asusual. And so it was she who, making a great effort, at last broke theunnatural silence.

  "I've never thanked you for your letter," she said nervously. "But I'mvery much obliged to you, Oliver, for consenting to be my trustee. And Iknow that Godfrey will be! I hope it won't give you much trouble--thetrusteeship, I mean. I know that Mr. Blackmore, for years past, left itall to Godfrey."

  He answered slowly, meditatively, and to her intense relief, quite inhis old way. "Yes, I think Godfrey will be pleased. To tell you thetruth, Laura, I thought I would take advantage of his pleasure tosuggest that plan about Gillie--I mean that you and Gillie and Aliceshould all go abroad together."

  "If only you can persuade Godfrey to let me have Gillie here for awhile, I shall be more than content!" She spoke with a rather piteouseagerness.

  They were walking very, very slowly. Oliver had now turned on hiselectric torch, and it threw a bright patch of light on the pathimmediately before them, making all the darkness about them the blackerand the more intense.

  In a hard voice he exclaimed: "Of course Gillie must come here, and stayhere! His being anywhere else would be preposterous----" And then, oncemore, he fell into that strange, disconcerting silence.

  The last time they two had walked down under the beeches at night hadbeen some three weeks ago. Laura and Godfrey had dined with theTropenells, and then Godfrey had said that he had to go home and do somework, leaving her to stay on, for nearly an hour, with the mother andson.

  Oliver's torch had gone out that evening, and he had suggested, a littlediffidently, that Laura should take his arm; smiling, she had laid thetips of her fingers lightly on his sleeve. She had felt so happy then,so happy, and absolutely at her ease, with her companion....

  Tears welled up in her eyes. She was grateful for the darkness, but hertrembling voice betrayed her as she exclaimed, "Oliver? I do again askyou to forget what happened yesterday, and to forgive me for the thingsI said. I'm very sorry that I spoke as I did."

  He stopped walking, and put out his torch. "Don't be sorry," he said, ina low, constrained voice. "It's far better that I should know exactlyhow you feel. Of course I was surprised, for I'd always had a notionthat women regarded love from a more ideal standpoint than men seem ableto do. But I see now that I was mistaken." Some of the bitterness withwhich his heart was still full and overflowing crept into his measuredvoice. "I think you will believe me when I say that I did not mean toinsult you----"

  He was going on, but she interrupted him.

  "--I'm sorry--sorry and ashamed too, Oliver, of what I said.Please--please forget what happened----"

  He turned on her amid the dark shadows.

  "If _I_ forget, will _you_?" he asked sombrely.

  And she answered, "Yes, yes--indeed I will! But before we put whathappened yesterday behind us forever, do let me tell you, Oliver, that I_am_ grateful, deeply grateful, for your----" she hesitated painfully,and then murmured "your affection."

  But Oliver Tropenell did not meet her half-way, as she had perhapsthought he would. He was torn by conflicting feelings, cursing himselffor having lost his self-control the day before, and yet, even so, deepin his subtle, storm-tossed mind, not altogether sorry for what hadhappened.

  And so it was she who went on, speaking slowly and with difficulty: "Iknow that I have been to blame! I know that I ought never to have spokenof Godfrey as I have sometimes allowed myself to do to you. According tohis lights, he is a good husband, and I know that I have been--that Iam--a bitter disappointment to him."

  He muttered something--she did not hear what it was, and she hurried on:"What I have wanted--and oh, Oliver, I have wanted it so much--is afriend," almost he heard the unspoken words, "not a lover."

  She put out her hand in the darkness and laid it, for a moment, on hisarm. And then, suddenly, in that moment of, to him, exquisite,unhoped-for contact, Oliver Tropenell swore to himself most solemnlythat he would rest satisfied with what she would, and could, grant him.And so--

  "I know that," he said in measured, restrained tones. "And I have madeup my mind to be that friend, Laura. We will both forget what happenedyesterday. If you are ashamed, I am a hundred times more so! And dobelieve me when I tell you that what you said about Godfrey--why, I'veforgotten it already--had nothing to do with my outburst. I'm a lonelyman, my dear, and somehow, without in the least meaning it, I know, youcrept into my heart and filled it all. But already, since yesterday,I've come to a more reasonable frame of mind."

  He waited a moment, despising himself for uttering such lying words, andthen he went on, this time honestly meaning what he said: "Henceforth,Laura, I swear that I'll never again say a word to you that all theworld might not hear. I never did, till yesterday----"

  "I know, I know," she said hurriedly. "And that was why I was sosurprised."

  "Let's put it all behind us and go back to 'as we were'!" He wasspeaking now with a sort of gruff, good-humoured decision, andLaura sighed, relieved, and yet--so unreasonable a being iswoman--unsatisfied.

  The light from his torch flashed again, and they walked on, under thedark arch of leaves and branches, till they were close to the open road.

  And there Laura said, "I wish you would leave me here, Oliver. I feelsure that Aunt Letty is waiting up for you."

  He answered her at once. "It won't make more than five minutes'difference. I'll only walk as far as the lodge. It's a lonely littlestretch of road."

  "Lonely?" she repeated. "Why, there isn't a bit of it that isn't withinhail of Rosedean!"

  And then, determined to go back to their old easy companionship, thatcompanionship which had lately become so easy and so intimate that whenwith him she had often spoken a passing thought aloud, "Katty came hometo-day. I must try and see her to-morrow. She's a plucky creature,Oliver! I wish that Aunt Letty liked her better than she does."

  He answered idly, "There's nothing much either to like or dislike inMrs. Winslow--at least so it always seems to me."

  But she answered quickly, defensively, "There's a great deal to like inher--when I think of Katty Winslow I feel ashamed of myself. I've knownher do such kind things! And then she's so good about Godfrey--I don'tknow what Godfrey would do without her. They knew each other aschildren. It's as if she was his sister. All that little Pewsbury worldwhich bores me so, is full of interest to them both. I'm always gladwhen she's at Rosedean. I only w
ish she didn't go away so often--Godfreydoes miss her so!"

  "Yes, I know he does," he said drily.

  They walked on in silence till they were close to the low lodge.

  Laura Pavely held out her hand, and Oliver Tropenell took it in hiscool, firm grasp for a moment.

  "Good-night," he said. "I suppose we shall meet some time to-morrow?"

  She answered eagerly. "Yes, do come in, any time! Alice and I shall begardening before lunch. Godfrey won't be back till late, for he's sureto go straight to the Bank from the station. He'll be so much obliged toyou about that trusteeship, Oliver. It's really very good of you to takeso much trouble."

  Oliver Tropenell answered slowly, "Yes, I think Godfrey will bepleased; and as I've already told you, I'll certainly take advantage ofhis pleasure, Laura, to suggest the plan about Gillie."

  Once more she exclaimed: "If only you can persuade Godfrey to let mehave Gillie at The Chase for a while, I shall be more than content!"

  There was a thrill of excitement, of longing, in her low voice, as,without waiting for an answer, she walked away, leaving him lookingafter her. The patch of whiteness formed by the hem of her gown movedswiftly along--against the moonlit background of grass, trees, and sky.He stood and watched the moving, fluttering bit of whiteness till itvanished in the grey silvery haze. Then, slowly, he turned on his heeland made his way back home.

  * * * * *

  It was nearly a quarter of a mile from the lodge to The Chase, as thehouse was always called, but there was a rather shorter way across thegrass, through trees; and Laura, when she came to where she knew thelittle path to be, left the carriage way, and stepped up on to thegrass.

  She felt oppressed, her soul filled with a piteous lassitude andweariness of life, in spite of the coming return home of her onlybrother. She had been moved and excited, as well as made acutelyunhappy, by what had happened yesterday morning. Mrs. Tropenell, asalmost always happens in such a case, was not fair to Laura Pavely.Laura had been overwhelmed with surprise--a surprise in whichhumiliation and self-rebuke were intolerably mingled--and yes, a certainproud anger.

  The words Oliver had said, and alas! that it should be so, the bitter,scornful words she had uttered in reply, had, she felt, degraded themboth--she far, far more than him. At the time she had been too deeplyhurt, too instinctively anxious to punish him, to measure her words. Andnow she told herself that she had spoken yesterday in a way no man wouldever forget, and few, very few men would ever forgive. Though he hadbeen kind to-night--very, very kind--his manner had altered, all thehappy ease had gone.

  Tears came into Laura Pavely's eyes; they rolled down her cheeks.Suddenly she found herself sobbing bitterly.

  She stopped walking, and covered her face with her hands. With a depthof pain, unplumbed till now, she told herself that she would never,never be able to make Oliver understand why she had said those cruelstinging words. Without a disloyalty to Godfrey of which she wasincapable, she could not hope to make him understand why she had soprofound a distaste, ay, and contempt, for that which, if he had spokentruly yesterday, he thought the greatest thing in the world. With sad,leaden-weighted conviction she realised that there must always bebetween a man and a woman, however great their friendship and mutualconfidence, certain barriers that nothing can force or clear.

  She had believed, though as a matter of fact she had not thought verymuch about it, that Oliver Tropenell, in some mysterious way, was unlikeordinary men. As far as she knew, he had never "fallen in love." Women,who, as she could not help knowing, had always played so great a part inher brother Gillie's life, seemed not to exist--so far as OliverTropenell was concerned. He had never even seemed attracted, as almostevery man was, by pretty Katty Winslow, the innocent _divorcee_ nowliving at his very gates. So she, Laura, had allowed herself to slipinto a close, intimate relationship which, all unknowingly to her, hadproved most dangerous to him....

  Still crying bitterly, she told herself that she had been too happy allthis summer. Godfrey had been kinder, less, less--she shrank fromputting it into words--but yes, less ill-tempered, mean, and tiresomethan usual. Oliver had had such a good effect on Godfrey, and she hadhonestly believed that the two were friends.

  But how could they be friends if--if it was true that Oliver loved her?Laura Pavely knew nothing of the well-worn byways of our poor humannature.

  Suddenly she threw her head back and saw the starlit sky above her.Somehow that wonderful ever-recurring miracle of impersonal, unearthlybeauty calmed and comforted her. Drying her eyes, she told herself thatsomething after all had survived out of yesterday's wreck. Her friendmight be a man--a man as other men were; but he was noble, andsingularly selfless, for all that. On the evening of the very day onwhich she had grievously offended and wounded him, he had written her akindly letter, offering to be her trustee.

  There had been moments to-day when she had thought of writing Mrs.Tropenell a note to say she did not feel well--and that she would notdine at Freshley that night. But oh, how glad she was now that a mixtureof pride and feminine delicacy had prompted her to behave just as ifnothing had happened, as if words which could never be forgotten hadnot been uttered between herself and Oliver! She had thought he wouldpunish her this evening by being sulky and disagreeable--that was herhusband's invariable method of showing displeasure. But with theexception of a word or two uttered very quietly, and more as if she,rather than he, had something to forgive, he had behaved as if yesterdayhad never been. He had heaped coals of fire upon her head, making itplain that even now he was only thinking of her--of her and of Gillie,of how he could pleasure them both by securing her a holiday with heronly brother.

  Every word of that restrained, not very natural, conversation held justnow under the beech trees re-echoed in her ears. She seemed to hearagain the slowly uttered, measured words, "I am going to be your friend,Laura"....

  And then there came over Laura Pavely an extraordinary sensation ofmoral and mental disturbance. Once more everything which had happenedto-day was blotted out, and she went back to yesterday morning. Againshe lived through those moments during which Oliver Tropenell hadoffered her what was to him the greatest thing man has it in him tobestow--love, even if illicit, unsanctified. And she had rejected thegift with a passion of scorn, spurning it as she would have done a baseand unclean thing.

  Years and years ago, in her quiet, shadowed youth, she too had believedlove to be the most precious, beautiful thing in life. Then, withmarriage to Godfrey Pavely had come the conviction that love was notbeautiful, but very, very ugly--at its best one of those dubious giftsto man by which old Dame Nature works out certain cunning designs of herown. And yet, when something of what she believed to be the truth hadbeen uttered by her during that terrible tense exchange of words, shehad seen how she, in her turn, had shocked, and even repelled, OliverTropenell.

  Once more sobs welled up from her throat, once more she covered her facewith her hands....

  At last, feeling worn out with the violence of an emotion which, unknownto her, vivified her whole being, she walked on till the fine Tudorfront of the old house which was at once so little and so much her home,rose before her. It was an infinite comfort to know that Godfrey wouldnot be there waiting for her, and that she would be able to make her wayup alone through the sleeping house to the room which opened into herchild's nursery.