OLIVE'S HAPPINESS
JACK seemed rather annoyed to find that I was not alone, though Alan
Faulkner immediately decided that it was time he went to his morning's
work and rode off. Jack wanted me to ride with him later in the day,
and was vexed when he learned that Mr. Dicks was going to take me for a
drive. His ill-humour increased when I told him that I had promised to
ride with Mr. Faulkner on the following day.
"It is too bad!" he said morosely. "You might have kept the last day
for me!"
"The last day?" I said.
"Yes," he said, "you know I go up for my exam on Monday."
I had forgotten that the day was so near. I felt almost frightened as I
realised it.
"Oh, Jack, I do hope you will do well!" I said. "Do you feel fairly
ready?"
"I don't feel in the least fit," he said. "I believe I shall make a
horrid mess of it again, and then you will have nothing more to say to
me, I suppose. In that case I shall just enlist as a Tommy."
"Don't talk nonsense!" I said severely. "You will not fail this time;
you cannot, and must not. You really have worked, you know."
"Thanks for giving me so much credit," he said, "but that has really
little to do with it. I am unlucky at these things. The old fogeys who
prepare the papers are sure to hit upon questions that will bowl me
out."
"Rubbish!" I said. "Make up your mind to succeed, and you will come out
all right."
"You might have let me have a last ride with you," he said
reproachfully.
"It won't be the last, I hope, but there is nothing to hinder you from
joining us to-morrow," I said, feeling, however, rather blank as I made
the suggestion.
"Thank you very much," he said sarcastically; "but I have not the least
desire to make an unwelcome third."
"Make a welcome fourth, then," I said. "I dare say Agneta will be
pleased to come too."
But this did not do either. He was in a very perverse mood that
morning. It was a relief to me when he had departed, having lingered
till it was necessary for him to ride at break-neck speed into
Chelmsford if he would arrive punctually at his tutor's. I felt very
anxious that he should do well in his examination, and gave him every
wise admonition that my own experience could suggest. For his own sake,
and for his father's, it would be a thousand pities if he failed again.
Foolish boy as Jack often showed himself to be, I knew that he was
brave and manly, and I believed, with my father, that he would make a
fine soldier.
Hobbes had graciously given me permission to gather any flowers I
pleased from his garden, so when Jack had gone I busied myself in
making a nosegay, which I carried to the village and left at the door
of the house which had been converted into a sanatorium for Paulina's
benefit. On the way I encountered Mr. Dicks wandering aimlessly along.
He was so changed that I hardly knew him. His air of almost aggressive
self-complacency, as if he were for ever exulting in the thought of his
own smartness, had vanished, and he looked profoundly melancholy. When
he lifted his hat I saw that even the wisp of hair on his forehead,
usually erect, lay flat and limp. His appearance inspired me with the
fear that some alarming change in Paulina's condition had occurred, but
it was not so. He was merely brooding on the idea that since, through
scarlet fever, he had lost his wife and little son, it would probably
rob him of his daughter also.
He seemed pleased to meet me, and turned back with me.
"I am looking for Poole," he said. "He ought to be here by now. If he
sees the least cause for fear, I shall telegraph at once for one of the
first physicians from London."
When we reached the gate of "Ivy House," he pointed out to me the
windows of the room in which Paulina lay. Just then Miss Cottrell's
head appeared above one of the muslin blinds. She smiled and nodded
briskly as she saw us.
"She looks cheerful," I remarked. "I don't think she can be very uneasy
about her patient."
"I hope not," he said, brightening. "She is a good woman, an excellent
woman. I know she will watch over Pollie like a mother."
The words struck me as significant, and I could not help thinking that
Miss Cottrell would have liked to hear them. As I turned from the house
Dr. Poole's carriage came in sight driving rapidly towards it, so I had
no more of Mr. Dicks's company at that time.
The morrow brought me a delightful letter from mother. She had been
very sorry, she wrote, to learn of the outbreak of illness at "Gay
Bowers." She had much sympathy for aunt and Mr. Dicks, and still more
for the sufferer herself. It was perhaps wise of aunt to turn me out of
the house for a while, but she was convinced that I had run little risk
of taking the malady, and I was not to allow myself to think of such a
thing. So sure was mother of my immunity from danger, that she told me
I might come up to town on Monday and spend a couple of days at home,
thus completing my week of quarantine.
"We all want to see you badly," she said, "and we have surprising news
for you. I cannot do justice to it in a letter, and besides, I believe
that Olive would like to tell you all about it herself."
I was delighted at the thought of going home, and mother's mysterious
hint filled me with the liveliest curiosity. What could this surprising
news be? Evidently it was something in which Olive was greatly
interested; but although I made many surmises, I did not hit upon the
truth. But when I spoke of it to Aunt Patty, she said quietly:
"I expect it means that Olive is engaged."
"Oh, auntie," I exclaimed, and the colour flew into my face, "what can
make you say so? That is a most unlikely thing."
"Is it?" aunt asked with a smile. "You are paying Olive a nice
compliment. It seems to me likely enough."
"But Olive!" I gasped. "Olive! Oh, I don't think it can be that!"
The idea was more startling than agreeable. How could we do without
Olive? She seemed as truly a pillar of the house as either father or
mother. Certainly I had never supposed that she would remain single all
her days, but that within the near future she would marry and leave us
was a prospect which appalled me, and I tried to persuade myself that
it could not be as Aunt Patty imagined.
I could see that my aunt thought it rather rash of mother to have me
home at this time, but I troubled little about that. When Jack heard
that I was going up to town on Monday, he insisted that we must travel
together; so it was under his escort that I arrived at Liverpool Street
that afternoon, and found Peggy awaiting me on the platform.
Peggy looked lively as ever. She never was shy—art students seldom are,
I think—and she was soon chattering away to Jack. She appeared shorter
than usual as she stood looking up at him, and she complained to me
afterwards that conversing with him had given her a pain at the back of
her neck. He was in no hurry to reach his destination, and insisted on
accompanying us to Moorgate Street, and seeing us into the train for
Clapham.
All this while I was longing to put a certain question to Peggy, but
not till we had reached Clapham and were walking home from the station
was I able to do so.
"Peggy," I said as we reached the edge of the common, and stepped
within the welcome shade of trees, "Olive is not engaged to be married,
is she?"
Peggy glanced quickly at me.
"Why, who told you, Nan?" she asked in surprise. "I mean what made you
think of such a thing?"
"Then it is true?" I groaned. "Tell me who he is, Peggy?"
"I was told not to say a word about it," Peggy replied. "Olive was
going to tell you herself, but since you know so much already—"
"Yes, yes," I broke in impatiently, "you must tell me about him. I can
hear Olive's story later. Is he good enough for her?"
"She thinks so," said Peggy significantly. "She puts him on so high
a pedestal that I tell her he must topple off some day. His name is
Percival Smythe."
"What!" I exclaimed. "Mrs. Smythe's nephew! Olive wrote me that he had
come back from India, and was staying there. She said they had been
cycling together, but I never thought— He must be a great deal older
than she is."
"And why, pray?" Peggy asked with a smile.
"Oh, I see," she added. "Olive probably omitted to explain that he was
Mrs. Smythe's grand-nephew. The old lady always speaks of him as her
nephew. As a matter-of-fact, he is twenty-nine."
"Oh!" I said disconsolately. "And is Olive very fond of him?"
Peggy laughed.
"I shall leave you to find that out for yourself," she said. "You won't
have much difficulty."
"Do you like him, Peggy?" I asked anxiously.
"Oh, yes, we all like him," she said cheerfully, "and not least Master
Fred. He has been making a good deal of Fred. He proposed taking him to
the Zoo on Saturday week, and then with serpentine cunning suggested
that Olive and I should go too. I fell into the snare, like the dear
little innocent I am. Soon after entering the gardens, Mr. Smythe
provided Fred with a big bag of buns, and led us to the bears' den.
Fred was soon engaged in exciting endeavours to induce the big bear to
climb his pole, and I was watching lest he should precipitate himself
into the pit, when I became aware that the other two had vanished. If
you will believe it, we saw nothing more of them till it was almost
time to go home, and I had all of taking Fred from house to house, and
helping him to spend the half-crown Mr. Smythe had given him, in rides
on every animal that could possibly be mounted."
"Poor Peggy! They did treat you badly!" I said, unable to keep from
laughing, though I did not feel exactly merry. "I hope they duly
apologised."
"They told me they were sorry, but they certainly disguised their
feelings well," she said, with twinkling eyes, "for I never saw two
mortals look so supremely happy. The hours in which I had been growing
hot and weary had passed like a blissful dream with them, and they
could not believe it was so late. Of course, I guessed what it meant,
and the next day he came to see father, and the thing was settled."
The news did not please me at all. It was selfish of me; but I could
not welcome the shadow of approaching change. I should have liked to
find everything at home going on as usual. Before I could question
Peggy further we were in the old familiar road, and in another minute
mother was giving me her cheery greeting.
Olive had not yet returned from Mrs. Smythe's, so I had a little quiet
chat with mother first. She told me that she and father were satisfied
that Olive would have a good husband and were glad that this happiness
had come to her. But though she spoke so bravely, I could see that
mother shrank sorely from the thought of parting with her eldest child.
While we talked Olive came in, accompanied by her fiancé. I had made
up my mind to dislike Percival Smythe; but his appearance disarmed my
prejudice. I saw at once he was a gentleman, and I soon knew that Olive
had not given her heart to one unworthy of the gift.
As I looked at my sister I marvelled at the change I saw in her. Always
bright and winsome, her face was now radiant with happiness. Olive had
always been remarkable for her unselfishness, and now she loved with
the strong, pure, whole-souled devotion which forgets self in loving.
I shared her room, and we had a long, long talk ere we slept that night.
As I listened to the glowing words in which she described the man she
loved, I found it hard to believe that he was quite the heroic being
she painted him; but I felt that he was a happy man to have won such
love and trust, and that he must be the better for it. I tried to be
glad for Olive's sake, but I am afraid that I still cherished a grudge
against him.
"Of course you will not be married for some time yet," I said.
"Not till next year," she said softly, "he has to return to India in
the spring."
"To India!" I cried sharply. "Oh, Olive, you don't mean to say that he
is going to take you to India?"
"Why, naturally," she said with a smile, "since he has a post there and
is only home on furlough. What are you thinking of, Nan?"
"I had not thought of that," I said. "Oh, Olive, I cannot bear to think
of your going right away to India."
"Oh, nonsense, Nan," she said smilingly. "India is not such a very
great way off; at any rate people can easily get back."
How lightly she said it! It struck me as strange that Olive, who had
always seemed to be so fond of mother and home and all of us, should
now be so willing to leave us and go to the other side of the world
with a man of whom she had known nothing when I left home.
"So, Olive," I said in a tone of mournful conviction, "he is more to
you than any of us?"
A grave, sweet look came to Olive's face.
"Why, yes, he certainly is," she made reply, "but you must not suppose,
dear old Nan, that I care less for any one because of this new and
precious love. It is quite otherwise. My heart goes out to every one of
you, as it never did before, just because I am so glad—so glad and so
thankful to God for this rich gift of love."
"Yet you are ready to go away with him to the ends of the earth!" I
said.
"Yes," she said quietly, and I cannot describe her expression as she
said it, "I am ready to go with him wherever he goes. We belong to each
other henceforth. Ah, Nan, you cannot understand it now; but you will
some day."
But it seemed to me that I was beginning to understand it already.