I awoke the next morning with a certain feeling of relief. Clarence
Payne, it is true, had given me no definite advice as yet, but it was a
comfort to know that he, to a great extent, understood and certainly
sympathised with my position. Then, too, I was thankful to have his
assurance that Caryll Grey's condition was not quite such a critical one
as I had begun to fear; not improbably indeed, if any action were taken
on the knowledge that had come to me, even if it affected the whole
fortunes of the Grey family satisfactorily, it might have to be kept
secret from the younger brother till he had progressed further towards
the partial recovery which there now seemed some hope of. And in the
meantime, I felt well content to rest on my oars for a little, knowing
that I had done what I could for the best. There was something bracing
and strengthening in Clarence's simple belief that when one so acted,
direction--guidance--call it what you will, would come.
I shall always remember that Sunday in Granville Square. Owing
possibly, in part, to the sort of nervous tension I had worked myself up
to, now succeeded by a reaction to comparative restfulness, it has left
on my memory an association of peculiar peacefulness. To a country-bred
person, in those days perhaps more than now, the quiet of the London
streets on a Sunday struck me agreeably, and this quiet one I enjoyed to
the full in my present quarters. The old-fashioned square was almost as
silent as in the middle of the night, and indoors, though the Paynes
were far from puritanical either in belief or practice, the first day of
the week was observed somewhat strictly, in the sense, above all, of its
being reposeful and calm for the whole household, servants as well as
masters. Not that at my godmother's the true spirit of the fourth
commandment was set aside, but she was of a different nature, and seemed
to belong to a different order of things, socially speaking.
It never occurred to my present host and hostess to attend any church
but their legitimate parish one, whither we all dutifully bent our steps
to the appointed places. There was no waiting in the aisle, no pushing
or crowding, however decorously veiled. The service now-a-days, no
doubt, would strike most people as dull, and by no means soul-stirring,
and perhaps to a great extent so it was! But all things in this world
have their two sides. There was something dignified and reverent about
the whole proceedings, which I have always remembered with a certain
admiration; appreciative of, and I hope grateful, though I am, for the
more abundant life and light which have in such things come to us in the
latter half of the present century. I don't remember anything about the
sermon, except that it was gentle and mildly instructive, the preacher
giving one the impression of being a scholar and a gentleman of the old
school. But whatever it was, it suited me that day. So did the whole
course of things. The quiet little walk home across the square; the
simple, though carefully served, cold luncheon; the afternoon in my own
room, where, as the day was chilly, a nice little fire greeted me. Then
the comfortable, somewhat "schoolroom-like" five o'clock tea, to which
one or two intimate friends dropped in. Church again later, for those
who felt equal to it, of which I was not one, and supper, followed by
some favourite hymns, led by Mrs Payne's sweet voice, and accompanied
by Rupert on a chamber-organ installed for the purpose in the library.