"Oh!" I blurted out, saying, of course, in my confusion exactly what I
would _not_ have said: "only a--a little girl with such wonderful hair."
"Where?" asked Isabel, again poking her head out--in the wrong
direction, of course; she was tired of the long waiting, and jumped at
the smallest excitement. "Oh, yes! I see! at the door of the
refreshment, room. Yes, it _is_ magnificent hair; but, Vic, you said--"
"Nonsense!" I interrupted, "she's nowhere near the refreshment room;
it's not possible it's the same."
Nor was it. Bronzie was by this time out of sight, far off among the
throng of travellers at the left extremity of the platform, and the
refreshment room was some yards to our right. It was absolutely,
practically impossible. "Nonsense!" I repeated peevishly, looking out,
nevertheless, in expectation of seeing some childish head of ordinary
fair hair at the spot my sister indicated. But I started violently--
yes, it _was_ Bronzie again; the self-same hair, at least. And the girl
was standing, with her back to us, at the door of the first-class
refreshment room, as Isabel had said. I felt as if I were dreaming; my
brain was in a whirl. I sat down in my place for a moment to recover
myself.
"I wonder," said my sister, "if her face is as lovely as her hair? She
is sure to turn round directly. Wait a minute, Vic, I'll tell you if
she oh, how tiresome! I do believe we are off; after waiting so long,
they might as well have waited one moment longer."
And off we were--in the opposite direction too. We could see no more of
her--Bronzie, or not Bronzie! On the whole I was not sorry that my
sister's curiosity was doomed to be unsatisfied. But my own perplexity
was great. How _could_ the child have been spirited all the length of
the station in that instant of time?
"She is a fairy; that is the only explanation," I said to myself,
laughingly. "Perhaps I have dreamt her only--in church, that Christmas
too--but no; Isabel saw the hair as well as I."
Time went on, faster and faster. I was a man--very thoroughly a man--
for seven years had passed since that winter day's journey. I was
five-and-twenty; I had completed my studies, travelled for a couple of
years, and was about settling down to my own home and its
responsibilities--for my father was dead, and I was an eldest son--when
the curtain rises for the third and last time in this simplest of
dramas. I was unmarried, yet no misogamist, nor was there the
shadowiest of reasons why I should not marry; rather, considerably even,
the other way. My family wished it; I wished it myself in the abstract.
I had money enough and to spare. I loved my home, and was ready to
love it still more; but I had never cared for any woman as I knew I must
care for _the_ woman I could make happy, and be happy with, as my wife.
It was strange--strange and disappointing. I had never fallen in love,
though I may really say I had _wished_ to do so. Never, that is to say
since I was fifteen, and the gleaming locks of my Bronzie--like
Aslauga's golden tresses--had irradiated for me the corner of the gloomy
old London church where she sat.
That was ten years ago now, yet I had not forgotten my one bit of
romance.
It was Christmas again. For the day itself I was due at home, of
course; but on the way thither I had promised to spend a night with
Greatrex, a friend of some few years' standing, whom I had not seen
since his marriage, at which something or other had prevented my being
present. He had invited me before, but I had not felt specially keen
about it. He was rapturously in love with his wife I could see by his
letters, and that sort of thing, under the circumstances, made me feel
rather "out in the cold"--not unnaturally. But at last I had given in:
I was to stay a night, possibly two, at Moresham, Greatrex's home,
where, as he had written, on receiving my acceptance, "You will see her
at last," for all the world as if I had been dying to behold Mrs
Greatrex, and counting the hours till my longings for this privilege
should be gratified.
Greatrex met me at the door. It was afternoon, but clear daylight
still, though December, when I drove up.
"So delighted, so uncommonly pleased, old fellow, at last," he
ejaculated, shaking me vigorously by the hand; "and so will Bessie be.
I don't know much about your taste, but you can't but agree that _I_
have shown some, when you see her. One of her great beauties is her
hair; I wonder if you'll like the way she--; what's the matter?" as the
footman interrupted him with a "Beg pardon, sir," "Oh yes, I'll tell
Barnes myself;" and he turned back to the groom, still at the door.
"Excuse me one instant, old fellow. Bessie is in the drawing-room."
"Don't announce me. I will introduce myself," I said hastily to the
servant. A queer, a very queer feeling had come over me, at that
mention, by her husband, of Mrs Greatrex's _hair_--could it be? And
her name was Bessie. I could not imagine Bronzie by that name--my
stately little maiden--what if it _were_ though? and my dream to end
thus?
I stepped quietly into the room. She was standing by the window; there
was snow outside. I saw her, all but her face, perfectly: I saw _it_--
the hair--and for an instant I felt positively faint. It was _it_--it
must be she; the way she wore it was peculiar, though very graceful; the
head was pretty, but the small figure, though neat and well
proportioned, was by no means what I had pictured Bronzie as a woman.
But what did it matter? She was Greatrex's wife.
"I must introduce myself; Mrs Greatrex," I began, and then, as my words
caught her ears, she turned, and for the first time I saw the face--the
face I had so often pictured as a fit accompaniment to that glorious
hair.
Oh, the disappointment--the strange disappointment--and yet the still
stranger relief! For she was Greatrex's wife! But she wasn't Bronzie--
my Bronzie had never been. There _was_ no Bronzie!
Yet it was a sweet and a pretty little face, and a good little face too.
Now that I know it well I do not hesitate to call it a very dear and
charming little face, though the features are _only_ pretty; the eyes
nothing particular, except for their pleasant expression; the nose
distinctly insignificant.
I exerted myself to be agreeable. When Greatrex came in, a moment or
two afterwards, he was evidently quite satisfied as to the terms on
which we already stood. Then followed afternoon tea. It seemed to go
to my head. I felt curiously excited, reckless, and almost bitter, and
yet unable mentally to drop the subject as it were. The absurdity of
the whole filled me with a sort of contempt for myself, and still there
was a fascination about it. I determined to go through with it, to
punish myself well for my own fantastic nonsense, to show my own folly
up to myself.
"You may be surprised, Mrs Greatrex," I said, suddenly, "to hear that--
I feel sure I am not mistaken in saying so--that I have seen you
before."
She was surprised, but she smiled pleasantly.
"Indeed," she said; while "where? when? Let's hear all about it. Why
didn't you tell us before?" exclaimed Greatrex, in his rather clumsy
way.
"Can you carry your memory back, let me see, nine, ten years?" I asked.
"Do you remember if at that time you spent a winter in London; or was
London your home?"
She shook her head. "No, it was not; but I did spend the winter of in
London."
"Had you--can you possibly recollect if you wore a large, rather
slouching, felt hat, with a long feather--grey, the hat, too, was grey--
that fell over the left side? and a coat of grey, too, some kind of
velvet, I think, trimmed with dark fur?"
Greatrex looked extremely astonished.
"Come, now," he ejaculated.
Mrs Bessie smiled.
"Yes," she said, "I remember the whole get-up perfectly."
Greatrex looked triumphant. I did not, for I did not feel so.
"And," I went on listlessly, almost--I felt so sure of it now--"did you
not come to church for several Sundays that winter; and on Christmas
Day, to Saint Edric's, in ---Square?"
For the first time Mrs Greatrex shook her head.
"No," she said. "I never remember being in Saint Edric's in my life."
Greatrex's face fell; he had been quite excited and delighted, poor
fellow.
"Come, now," he said again, in a different tone, "are you sure, Bessie?
I think you must be mistaken."
"I think so, too," I added, a little more eager myself now. "You may
have forgotten the name. Saint Edric's is--" and I went on to describe
the church.
"You came with a lady who looked like a governess," and I concluded with
some details as to this person's appearance.
"Yes," Mrs Greatrex said, "that sounds like our governess--Mrs Mills;
she was with us several years. But it is not only that I was never at
Saint Edric's; I was never at church all those weeks in London at all.
I had a bad attack of bronchitis. I remember particularly how vexed I
was not to wear my new things, especially as we--" suddenly a curious
change of expression came over her face, and just at that instant her
husband interrupted her.
"I have it," he began excitedly, but he got no farther. "_Bessie_," he
exclaimed, with almost a shriek, "my dearest child, you've scalded me!"
and he looked up ruefully from the contents of a cup of tea deposited on
his knee.
"No, no," his wife exclaimed, "it was only a little water I was pouring
into my cup, and it was not very hot. But come along, I have a cloth in
the conservatory, where I was arranging some flowers. I'll rub it dry
in an instant."
She almost dragged him off--with unnecessary vehemence, it seemed to me.
I could not make her out. "An odd little woman," I thought. "I hope,
for Greatrex's sake, she's not given to nerves or hysterics, or that
sort of thing."
But they were back in two minutes, Greatrex quite smiling and content,
though he has owned to me since that his knee _was_ scalded, all the
same.
No more was said on the subject of reminiscences. Indeed, it seemed to
me that Bessie rather avoided it, and a new idea struck me--perhaps
Greatrex was given to frightful jealousy, though he hid it so well, and
his wife had got him off into the conservatory to smooth him down. Yes,
his manner _was_ queer. Poor little woman! I forgave her her hair.
We strolled off to the stables, then to have a smoke, and thus idled
away the time till the dressing-bell rang.
"We're very punctual people," said Greatrex, as he showed me to my room.
So I made haste, and found myself entering the drawing-room some few
minutes before the hands of my watch had reached the dinner-hour.
"_She_ is punctual," I thought, as I caught sight of a white-robed
figure standing with its back to me, full in the light of a suspended
lamp, whose rays caught the gleam of her radiant hair. "Not--not very
wise to be down before him, if he has the uncomfortable peculiarity that
I suspect. By Jove! how much taller she looks in evening dress!
Strange that it should make such a difference!"
"So your husband is the laggard, in spite of his boasted punctuality,
Mrs Greatrex?" I began.
She turned towards me.
"I am not Mrs Greatrex," she said, while she raised her soft brown eyes
to my face, and a little colour stole into her cheeks.
The words were unnecessary. I stood silent, motionless, spell-bound.
"I--I am only her sister--Imogen Grey," she went on.
I have asked her since if she thought me mad: she says not; but I feel
as if I must have seemed so. For still I could not speak, though
certain words seemed dancing like happy fairies across my brain.
"Bronzie, my Bronzie! found at last. Bronzie!"
And in another instant good little Bessie Greatrex was in the room, busy
introducing me to her sister, "Miss Grey," and explaining that she had
not been sure of Imogen's arriving in time for dinner--had I heard the
wheels just as we went up to dress?
She was a little confused; but it was not till afterwards that I thought
of it. In a sort of dream I went in to dinner; in a sort of dream I
went through that wonderful evening. They were as unlike as sisters
could well be, except for the hair: unlike, and yet alike; for, if there
is one woman in this world as good and true as my Bronzie, it is her
sister Bessie.
Yes, she was--she _is_ my Bronzie, though no one knows the name, nor the
whole story, but our two happy selves.
And I had it out with Bessie; she suspected the truth while I was
questioning her about her recollections, and then she saw it must have
been Imogen, and not herself: the dragging off poor Greatrex into the
conservatory was to tell him to hold his tongue. She wanted so to
"surprise" me! I believe, at the bottom of my heart, that Greatrex and
she had planned something of the kind even before they heard my
unexpected reminiscences; and if they did, there was no harm in it.
But--if she hadn't been my Bronzie, nothing would have been any use; I
should have lived and died unmarried.