Look through a keyhole, and your eye will be sore.
During the weeks which followed Fay's confession Magdalen became aware
that she watched her, and aware also that she avoided her, was never
alone with her if she could help it.
At this time Fay began to do many small kindnesses, and to talk much of
the importance of work for others, of the duty of taking an interest in
our fellow creatures. This was a new departure. She had not so far
evinced the faintest interest in the dull routine of home duties which
are of the nature of kindnesses, and had often reproached Magdalen for
spending herself in them. To play halma with zest all the evening with a
parent who must always win, to read the papers to him by the hour, not
while he listened, but while he slept--Fay scorned these humble efforts
of Magdalen's. She shewed no disposition to emulate them; but she did
shew a feverish tendency towards isolated acts of benevolence outside
the home life, which precluded any claim upon her by arousing a hope of
their continuance, which tied her to nothing. Fay began to send boxes of
primroses to hospitals, to knit stockings for orphans, to fatigue
herself with enormous walks over the downs with illustrated papers for
the Saundersfoot work-house.
It was inevitable at this juncture that she should feel some shocked
surprise at the supineness of those around her. Her altruistic efforts
were practically single-handed. She had hoped that when she inaugurated
them, Magdalen at any rate would have followed suit, would have worked
cheerfully under her direction. But Magdalen, whose serene cheerfulness
had flagged of late, fell painfully below her sister's expectation. Fay
came to the conclusion that it was more lack of imagination than
callousness on her sister's part which held her back.
Many careworn souls besides Fay have discovered that the irritable
exhaustion, the continual ache of egotism can be temporarily relieved by
taking an inexpensive interest in others. The remedy is cheap and
efficacious, and it is a patent. Like Elliman applied to a rheumatic
shoulder it really does do good--I mean to the owner of the shoulder.
And you can stop rubbing the moment you are relieved. Perhaps these
external remedies are indispensable to the comfort of those who dwell by
choice, like Fay, in low-lying swampy districts, and have no thought of
moving to higher ground.
Magdalen knew these signs, and sometimes her heart sank.
Was Fay unconsciously turning aside to busy herself over little things
that were not required of her, in order to shut her eyes to the one
thing needful--a great act of reparation?
If Fay was watching Magdalen, someone else was watching Fay. Bessie's
round, hard, staring eyes were upon her, and if Bessie did anything she
did it to some purpose.
One afternoon in the middle of April Bessie came into Magdalen's sitting
room and sat down with an air of concentration.
"I have reason to be deeply ashamed of myself," she said. "I _am_
ashamed of myself. If I tell you about it it is not in order that you
may weakly condone and gloss over my conduct."
Magdalen reflected that Bessie had inherited her father's graceful way
of approaching a difficulty by finding a preliminary fault in his
listener.
Bessie shut her handsome mouth firmly for a moment, and then opened it
with determination.
"I thought that whatever faults I had I was at any rate a lady, but I
find I am not. I discovered something by the merest chance a short time
ago, and since then, for the last fortnight I have been acting in a
dishonourable and vulgar manner, in short, spying upon another person."
"That must have made you miserable."
"It has. I am miserable. But I deserve that. I did not come to talk
about that. The point is this----"
"Bessie, I don't want to hear what you evidently ought not to know."
"Yes, you must, because someone else needs your advice."
"We won't trouble our minds about the someone else."
Bessie had, however, inherited another characteristic trait of her
father's. She could ignore when she chose. She chose now.
"I may as well put you in possession of the facts," she continued. "A
few weeks ago I was coming home by Pilgrim Road. I was not hurrying
because I was struck, as I always am struck--I don't suppose I am
peculiar in this--by the first appearance of spring. Pilgrim Road is a
sheltered place. Spring always comes early there."
"It does."
"I will even add that I was recalling to myself verses of poetry
connected with the time of year, when I saw a couple in front of me.
They were walking very slowly with their backs towards me, taking
earnestly together. They were Fay and Wentworth."
Magdalen made no movement, but her face, always pale, became suddenly
ashen grey.
If Fay were seriously attracted by Wentworth would she ever confess,
ever release Michael!
"There was no harm in their walking together," she said tremulously.
"There was one harm in it," retorted Bessie. "It made me so angry that I
did not know how to live. They did not see me, and I struck up into the
wood, and I had to stay an hour by myself holding on to a little tree,
before I could trust myself to come home."
"It does not help matters to be angry, Bessie. I was angry once for two
years. I said at the time like Jonah that I did well, but I see now that
I might have done better."
"I don't particularly care what helps matters and what does not. I now
come to my own disgraceful conduct. I have spied upon Fay steadily for
the last fortnight. She is so silly she never even thinks she is
watched. And she meets Wentworth in Pilgrim Road nearly every afternoon.
I once waylaid her as if by accident, on her way home, and asked her
where she had been, and she said she had been on her way to Arleigh
wood, but had not got so far, as she was too tired. Too tired! She had
been walking up and down with Wentworth for over an hour. I timed them.
She never meant to go to Arleigh wood. And when they said Good-bye,
he--he kissed her hand. Since Fay has come back to live here I have
gradually formed the meanest opinion of her. She is not truthful. She is
not sincere. She is absolutely selfish. I was inclined to be sorry for
her at first, but I soon saw through her. She did not really care for
Andrea. She only pretended. Everything she does is a kind of pretty
pretence. She does not really care for Wentworth. She is only leading
him on for her own amusement."
"I think it is much more likely that she is drifting towards marriage
with him without being fully aware of what she is doing. But women like
you and me are not in the same position towards men as Fay is.
Consequently it is very difficult for us to judge her fairly."
"I don't know what you mean."
"You and I are not attractive to men. Fay is. You saw Wentworth kiss her
hand. You naturally infer, but you are probably wrong, that Fay had been
leading him on, as you call it."
"It will take a good deal to disabuse me of that at any rate. I believe
my own eyes."
"I should not if I were you. If anyone kissed your hand or mine it would
not only be an epoch in our lives, but also the sign manual of some
ponderous attachment which you, my dear, would carefully weigh, and
approximately value. But do you suppose for one moment that Fay
attaches any importance to such an everyday occurrence!"
"I see what you are driving at, that Fay is not responsible for her
actions. But she is. She must know when she does things or lets them be
done, that will make others suffer."
"If you could look into Fay's heart, Bessie, you would find that Fay is
suffering herself and attributing her pain to others. As long as we do
that, as long as we hold the stick by the wrong end, we must inflict
pain in some form or other. Fay is not happy. You cannot look at her
without seeing it."
"I would not mind so much if it were not for Wentworth," said Bessie
with dreadful courage. "I know it is partly jealousy, but it is not only
jealousy. There are a few crumbs of unselfishness in it. I thought at
first--I reasoned it out with myself and it appeared a logical
conclusion--that father was the ostensible but not the real object of
Wentworth's frequent visits. I took a great interest in his
conversation; it is so lucid, so well informed, so illuminative. I do
not read novels as a rule, but I dipped into a few, studying the love
scenes, and the preliminary approaches to love scenes in order to aid my
inexperience at this juncture. I am sorry to say I fell into the error
that he might possibly reciprocate the growing interest I felt in him,
in spite of the great disparity in age. It was a mistake. I have
suffered for it."
The two roses of Bessie's cheeks bloomed on as unflinchingly as ever.
Magdalen's eyes were fixed on her own hands.
"You would not have suited each other if he had cared for you," she said
after a moment, "for you would not have done him justice when you got to
know him better, any more than you do Fay justice now that you _do_ know
her better. Wentworth is made of words, just as other men are made of
flesh and blood. How would you have kept any respect for him when you
had become tired of words? You are too straightforward, too
sledge-hammer to understand a character like his."
"In that case Fay ought to suit him," said Bessie grimly. "No one, not
even you, can call her straightforward. But I begin to think, Magdalen,
that you actually wish for the marriage."
"I had never thought of it as possible on her side until a few minutes
ago, when what you said took me by surprise. Of course I had noticed the
attraction on his side, but it appeared to me he was irresolute and
timid, and it is better to ignore the faint emotions of half-hearted
people. They come to no good. If you repel them they are mortally
offended and withdraw, and if you welcome them they are terrified and
withdraw."
"I don't think Wentworth intends withdrawing."
"No. These meetings look as if he had unconsciously drifted with the
current till the rowing back would be somewhat arduous." There was a
moment's silence, in which Magdalen recalled certain lofty sentiments
which Wentworth had aired with suspicious frequency of late. She knew
that when he talked of his consciousness of guidance by a Higher Power
in the important decisions of his life he always meant following the
line of least resistance. In this case the line of least resistance
_might_ tend towards marriage.
"It never struck me as possible till now," she said aloud, "that Fay
would think seriously of him."
"I don't suppose she is. She is only keeping her hand in. Don't you
remember how cruel she was to that poor Mr. Bell."
"I am convinced that she is not keeping her hand in."
"Then you actually favour the idea of a marriage." Bessie got up and
stalked slowly to the door. "You will help it on?" she said over her
shoulder.
"No." Magdalen's voice shook a little. "I will do nothing to help it, or
to hinder it."