Sara, having got over the crisis and being on the fair road to
recovery,--children recover quickly,--my heart turned towards home--and
a longing to get back obsessed me. I could think of nothing but home,
now that Diana's immediate need of me was over. She begged me to stay
with her. To fail her at such a moment was a great grief to me, but I
could make no further sacrifice. I must go home.
"I must go, David," I urged.
"Of course, if you must, you must, Betty, but I should have thought
after all Diana has gone through, you would have stayed with her. You
have always been so much to each other."
How he hurt me, as if I wouldn't do anything in the world for Diana; but
I must go home.
"David," I said in desperation, "I must go. If I promise to come back
directly, you won't misunderstand my going?"
"I'll try to understand, Betty, that you have some very strong reason
for going back."
"Thank you, David," I said.
"But," he continued, "you must tell Diana yourself."
I went to her room, where she was lying down. "Diana, darling," I said,
"I want very much to go home, if only for a day."
"Of course, Betty, you must go. But don't look so distressed. I must
have been selfish if I gave you the impression that I would not let you
go. It is only that I love so having you, you are such a rock, and
oh! it seems like some awful and terrible dream we have been through,
doesn't it? Sara asked for her darling bunny today. Think what that
means! Darling Betty, I pray that some great happiness may come to you
some day. I begin to believe that the greatest joys come through the
greatest sorrows."
"Don't, Diana," I whispered. "I can't bear you to be too kind. I suppose
it's all we've been through, but I feel."
"I know, Betty," she whispered. "I lie here too tired to do anything but
thank God. I ache with thankfulness, for you among other blessings. Come
back soon."
"What did Diana say?" asked David, who was waiting outside the door.
"Did she understand?"
"Understand? Did you ever know a time when Diana didn't understand?"
I went. Oh, the joy of setting out towards home! That ridiculously small
house in Chelsea in which were centered all my hopes. Some word might
be there waiting for me. Nannie might have thought nothing of sufficient
importance to forward at such a moment. How I hoped that was it, and
that it might be there, else all my hopes were shattered.
I opened the door with my latchkey. I looked. No telegram lay on the
table; that I saw at a glance. Then Nannie appeared. She was crying.
"Nannie," I said, "don't cry, she is much better, and is going to get
quite well; only I had to come home."
How explain to Nannie that I had left Sara and Diana at such a moment!
"Your bat's crooked," said Nannie.
"You ridiculous old person," I said, "what does that matter?" Nannie
sniffed. I put my hat straight. "Is that better?"
"Yes, it's better, it'll do," she answered, not quite satisfied,
evidently. I wondered why she asked no questions. Why had I come home to
this? No wonder David had been surprised at my leaving Diana! What was
the use?
Then Nannie said with a startling suddenness, "Some one is waiting for
you upstairs."
"Someone for me, Nannie. What do you mean?"
"He's waiting," she said, between laughter and sobs. "He's waiting."
I often wonder how I had the strength to go upstairs and open the
door. But I did, and there surely enough he stood, only a few feet of
green-painted boards separating us. How I crossed them I never knew. He
came halfway, no doubt.
I should never have done the journey alone, and I wondered too how it
was we met as lovers! That was the most wonderful part of all. How, when
I did not even know that he cared, could it have happened? It was all
too wonderful, and I was too dazed with happiness to question anything
at the moment. I only knew that the world had become a paradise, and
that the past years of doubt and perplexity had fallen away like a
disused garment.
Then we began to talk, and the mystery deepened. He spoke of a telegram.
I had never received one! And my telegram? I had never sent one! He
laughed, and when I said I didn't understand, he said what was the use
of understanding when knowing was sufficient?
It was all very puzzling, but I was content. There was so much to talk
of, so many explanations to make and to hear! But in time we came back
to the telegram. There had been no such thing!
He laughed. "I have it here," he said, putting his hand on his
coat-pocket.
"Show it to me," I pleaded.
Never; it was his, and his alone.
"But nothing is yours now that is not mine," I urged, "at least, if you
have asked me to marry you."
"Betty," he said, "I quite forgot. I came home for the express purpose
of doing so. I have thought and dreamed of nothing else, all through the
long marches in Africa; all the way home I have thought of that and of
your answer. Betty, will you marry me?"
"I shall be delighted, Captain Buchanan. But where is my telegram to
you, your telegram to me?"
"It. I think Nannie must have one."
"And did she answer it? Oh, what did she say?"
"Never mind; she said exactly the right thing. Don't let's discuss
Nannie's telegram when we have to make up for the silence of years!
O Betty! shall I wake up?"
A little later he said, "Tell me, did you care that night at the
Frasers'?"
I said I never remembered a time when I didn't care.
"O Betty! if only you hadn't been so proud!"
"Or you so horribly ununderstandable!"