AN UNPLEASANT EXPERIENCE
THE young people met at breakfast as if nothing had happened between
them. Gentian was her bright happy self again; she wanted to drive Jim
to the town in her car, but he made the excuse that he was going to
write business letters in the library and would prefer not to go out
till the afternoon.
Mrs. Wharnecliffe was just going to speak to Gentian when Thorold
arrived over. He had come to ask Gentian if she could possibly take the
organ the following Sunday.
"Could I do it?" she questioned half-diffidently, half-eagerly.
"If you come to the practice to-night at six o'clock, our organist
would be there, and would put you in the way of it; but he has to
go away to see a sick relation to-morrow, and will not be back till
Monday."
"I'll come. Mr. Paget is here; would you like to see him?"
"I shall be very glad to make his acquaintance. Does he know of the
buffer's existence?"
"I've dragged you into every other sentence. I think he thinks you and
Mrs. Wharnecliffe are brother and sister, and you mustn't undeceive
him."
Then she looked at him sternly.
"I remember now, you told me you wished to see my friend, and the organ
is just an excuse. You came on purpose to see him."
"Perhaps I did," said Thorold dryly.
"He is in the library, writing letters. I don't think he wishes to be
disturbed."
"Oh, I will fetch him," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe, who had no qualms about
interrupting her visitor's occupation.
She was not surprised to find him smoking a cigarette and moodily
sitting by the window doing nothing.
"I want you to make acquaintance with Gentian's cousin, Mr. Holt," she
said cheerfully. "May I bring him in here?"
"This is your house," the young fellow said, rising hastily from his
seat in some confusion; "of course I shall be very glad to see him."
So Thorold was brought in and introduced; and then Mrs. Wharnecliffe
went back to Gentian, who did not look very pleased. "Cousin Thorold is
very obstinate in doing his own will," she said; "why does he come over
to see Jim Paget? Does he want to see if he is a fit friend for me?
If he was a gorilla, I should stick up for him if I wanted to. Cousin
Thorold couldn't well prevent me."
"Now, Gentian, my dear child, I want you to be frank with me. This
Mr. Paget considers you are virtually engaged to him. Is this so? He
evidently wants matters to be settled. Is it that you cannot make up
your mind? Do you really like him? I want to help you if I can. He
says he has known and loved you for five years. You cannot keep a man
waiting too long, though I own you are full young yet to marry. He
seems to me a nice straightforward man with means of his own and he is
very fond of you."
"He has been getting hold of you. I told you the other day what I feel
about him. He is too strong-willed for me. I don't know which is worst,
he or Cousin Thorold. Of course Cousin Thorold is more reliable, and a
little kinder. I saw him pick up a village child and kiss it the other
day when it had fallen and hurt itself. Jim would never do that, he
would push it out of his way. Jim is going through the world elbowing
people right and left—clearing his way, and knocking down everybody
and everything that stops his progress. Cousin Thorold looks out for
those he can help, but he likes to manage those he helps, and that's
where they are alike. Jim likes to manage too. No, it's no good, Mrs.
Wharnecliffe, if Jim wants his answer now, I'll give it to him, but
I shall be awfully sorry if he goes away in a huff and never sees me
again; because I shall have no friend left then; and he has always been
as good as a brother to me."
"It is only fair to him that it should be one thing or the other," said
Mrs. Wharnecliffe; "if you don't want to marry him, you must not keep
him hanging round you."
Gentian was silent. Then she said in an animated tone: "Now I wonder
what those two are talking about? May I go and see?"
"I think you had better wait. They will come to us when they want us."
And in a very few minutes Thorold came in. He addressed himself to
Gentian.
"The interview has been very satisfactory. I like your friend."
"How kind of you!"
Gentian's tone was non-committal. It might have been sarcasm, or an
expression of pleasure.
"But I have told him that you are settling down here for the present,
and he must not worry you to go away, if you want to stay here."
"No one will worry me to do anything that I do not want to do," said
Gentian calmly.
"Then why the little creases on your brow at present?"
Gentian looked up at him and laughed.
"You make the creases; I always feel my bristles rising when you come
near. You think you've got to take care of me and guide my steps, and
you want to lock me up in a glass case and keep me there."
"As a precious ornament," said Thorold; "you ought to be flattered. It
is only treasures that require guarding."
Then he altered his tone.
"I don't want to make any more creases. They do not suit you, so I'll
leave you. If Mr. Paget would like to see the Vicarage this afternoon,
my housekeeper will have the keys. I shall be out."
"Thank you. I daresay we may stroll down there."
Mrs. Wharnecliffe walked down the drive with Thorold.
"I really don't understand her one bit," she confided to him; "I am
pretty certain she is not in love with this boy, but what she intends
to do is past my comprehension. He wants to be definitely engaged to
her. I have told her it must be one thing or the other. They have been
going on like this for nearly five years. It's my belief she clings to
him as to an old friend, and does not want to lose his friendship. She
said as much to me."
"He means to settle it to-day," said Thorold. "If she sends him away,
we shall have the responsibility of her altogether. I was wishing
the other day that she were my daughter. Now I don't know. Girls are
difficult to manage."
"Miss Ward will have the charge of her very soon," said Thorold easily;
"and I dare say she and this young fellow will settle it up together.
He's very fond of her."
Mrs. Wharnecliffe gave a little sigh.
After lunch Jim Paget and Gentian set off for the Vicarage. They were
gone nearly three hours, and then Jim returned alone with a very rueful
face.
"Where is Gentian?" asked Mrs. Wharnecliffe when she saw him.
"Oh, she's staying on for the organ practice. Mr. Holt's housekeeper is
giving her tea. I've been dismissed for good and all, and I think I'll
go back to town to-night, if you'll excuse my doing so. There's the
7.30 express."
"I am sorry," said Mrs. Wharnecliffe, and her heart ached for the young
fellow, whose face looked haggard and drawn.
"I didn't look for it, and that's a fact!" he said. "After all these
years too! I don't believe she knows what she's doing. She's enamoured
with her new surroundings here. I wish—if I may say so—that you had
never discovered her. If she and Waddy had been alone in London
lodgings, she would have turned to me with joy. But she's crazed about
this car of hers, and the little house and the organ. She'll find me
wanting soon. I shan't give up hope. I shall be utterly silent to her,
and perhaps after a time, she'll want to hear of me. I never shall
marry anyone else, I know that."
Mrs. Wharnecliffe tried to comfort him. She ordered the car to take him
to the station, and felt a little vexed with Gentian; but at the same
time her instinct told her that the girl was right, for her heart was
not Jim's. It still remained untouched.
When Gentian came in, it was to find that Jim had gone. She looked
rather blank when Mrs. Wharnecliffe gave her the news.
"What an awful hurry he was in! I quite meant to wish him good-bye
properly and to part friends. But perhaps it is best as it is."
"How did the practice go off?"
"Oh, it was lovely! The organ is a gem, and I found it quite easy to
play, and the small boys were such dears, and there's quite an old man
who comes with them and sings the deepest bass, and keeps saying: 'We
b'aint in 'armony!'"
She gave an animated account of her doings, and seemed to forget
Jim. But she was very quiet and pensive at dinner, and went to the
piano afterwards, and played such dreary dirges, that at last Mrs.
Wharnecliffe begged her to stop.
"It's to mark the burial of my friendship with Jim, and all his hopes
and mine. I really feel as if he has died. It is like it to me. He says
he will never see me again unless I send for him, and I shall never do
that."
"I hope you do not regret having sent him away."
"Of course I do!" she said passionately. "You can't give up a friend
without feeling it. You have made me do it. You and he together. I
could not marry him, but lots of girls have men friends, and I call him
selfish to leave me for ever like this."
"I think you are selfish to accept his love and attentions when you
know you do not mean to make him happy."
"I am very, very selfish," said Gentian in a humble tone; "I always
have been. But if he was unselfish, he would not wish to force me
against my liking to marry him. Shut up with Jim all my life! Oh, I
couldn't live! I should die. It would be dreadful!"
Then she slipped her arm through Mrs. Wharnecliffe's with a wistful
smile up at her.
"Oh, do love me and be kind to me I have forsaken Jim, for you and
Cousin Thorold. Perhaps you would rather I had married him, so as to
get rid of me. I feel sure that Cousin Thorold wanted me to do it. But
I won't burden you with the care of me. When I get Waddy again, I shall
be quite independent, and so busy that I shall have no time to come and
see you."
Mrs. Wharnecliffe kissed her.
"My dear Gentian," she said, "I am very glad we are not going to
lose you. And I mean to see a great deal of you in the future. I am
old-fashioned enough to believe in love matches, and if you don't love
a man, don't marry him. That is my advice. I have seen disaster again
and again come upon young people, because they married in haste for
expediency."
So Jim Paget departed out of Gentian's life, and at the end of a few
days, she seemed as if she had forgotten all about him. She was getting
quite absorbed in her small house, and when the day came for her to
move into it, and Miss Ward was expected to arrive, she was as excited
as a child.
Mrs. Wharnecliffe felt a blank in the house when she left her. Gentian
made her presence and personality felt wherever she went.
About a week after she moved in, Thorold, taking a morning walk past
the house, was confronted by a large white notice board in its front
garden facing the road.
"Car for hire. Apply within."
He was standing looking up at it with disapproval stamped upon his
face, when Gentian's voice over the hedge surprised him.
"Well, and what do you think of it? I am afraid we are too out of the
way for people to see it."
"I don't like it at all," said Thorold gravely.
"What a pity! I am proud of it. I have had two fares already. Every
morning I drive into Winderball and go slowly up and down the high
street with my notice 'for hire' staring every one in the face. They
won't let me stand in the station yard, so that is all I can do, but I
took a gentleman to the station yesterday, and the day before I drove
a young couple to see an empty house about eight miles out. That was a
good stroke of business. I shall get on in spite of your disapproval.
I could not stay here if I did not. Don't you want to go and see Mrs.
Wharnecliffe and ask her opinion about my notice board? I will run you
out this afternoon if you like. The journey there and back will be
twenty-two shillings. I cannot take tips, as it is my own car."
"I am afraid you do not tempt me," said Thorold, smiling in spite of
himself. "Having a motor-bike and a horse, I am independent of cars."
"Oh, of course, you are what they call complete in yourself. Now, dear
Cousin Thorold—"
She changed her tone and began to coax:
"Don't fight me about this board. It means a livelihood for me, and I
do not like cross faces and expostulations. All yesterday Miss Ward was
telling me you would not like it. And I said to her:
"'Cousin Thorold is a sensible broad-minded man, and very kind at
heart!'
"Are you not? We'll say no more about it. Now can you tell me if this
is the time to plant roses? I want some badly, and there is a woman
called Mrs. Guddings in the village who has a moss rose, and tells me
she will give me a root of it."
Thorold succumbed, and the talk veered to roses. The board remained up,
and only two days afterwards it brought Gentian business.
She was gardening very busily, and Miss Ward was having her afternoon
siesta, when a middle-aged lady appeared at her gate. She seemed in
some haste and agitation.
"We've had a breakdown at the bottom of the road, and I want to get to
town urgently to see a sister who is ill. We heard from a cottage that
there was a car for hire here. Can you lend it to us? I conclude there
is a driver."
"I drive my car myself," Gentian said with her greatest dignity. "I
will come with you at once."
The lady looked at her in a surprised fashion.
"Can you take a small amount of luggage? I have a niece with me, but we
shall be obliged to send our chauffeur back to the town with the car.
You look very young. I know girls do drive cars in these days, but have
you had much experience?"
"I have done the journey from town here with perfect ease, and know the
road well. Would you like to see the car?"
Without waiting for an answer, Gentian led the way to her garage.
The lady looked at the car critically, but appeared satisfied. She
asked if Gentian could start at once.
"In five minutes," said Gentian.
"Then I will go back and relieve my niece's mind. It is her mother who
is ill, and we have missed the train to town."
Gentian slipped quietly up to her room and got into her motor kit,
being careful not to disturb Miss Ward, for she was doubtful as to what
that lady would say to this expedition, as it was already late in the
afternoon. She left a message with the servant for her, and then drove
her car rapidly down the road.
She found the two ladies anxiously awaiting her. Their car was in the
ditch, and their chauffeur hard at work trying to get it back into the
road.
It was only the work of a few minutes to get her passengers and luggage
arranged for the journey, and then Gentian with glowing eyes and
cheeks, and a proud consciousness of her own powers, drove steadily
along the London road.
The run was made very successfully. Gentian was offered some
refreshment at the London house, but she declined, as she was anxious
to get back. It was a very sultry evening, and there was every
appearance of a storm brewing. She had got well out of London, and
was in a very lonely part of the country when the storm burst full
upon her. Vivid lightning and peals of thunder rather shook her nerve.
It was with a sense of relief that she came to a wayside inn which
possessed a garage, and very soon she and her car were taking advantage
of the shelter.
The storm was a heavy one, and lasted nearly an hour. Gentian had a
dish of eggs and bacon and a cup of tea in the inn parlour, but there
were some rough-looking farmers who tramped in and out, and she felt
uncomfortable when they persisted in talking to her. One of them asked
her to give him a lift. She refused, as she saw he had been drinking
freely, and she was very glad when she was able to start again, and get
away from them all.
It seemed as if misfortune dogged her steps. She had got a little more
than half-way, when suddenly one of her tyres burst. It was now just
dark. She was on a road bordered by thick pine woods on each side, and
there was not a house within sight. She got out and with the light of
her lamp commenced to remedy matters. She had a spare tyre and had
been taught how to put one on, but a man had helped her, and she did
not seem to have the strength to screw the jack up, to get the tyre
off the ground. She exerted all her strength, but the wheel refused to
lift. Time went by. She was perilously near tears, and the feeling of
helplessness and inability to remedy matters, made her furious with
herself.
At last she determined that she must leave her car where it was, and
walk on till she could get help from some one. It was at this juncture
that she saw a light approaching her. The noise told her that it was a
motor-cycle, and she plucked up courage to shout for help. Her surprise
was intense to find, the next moment, that the cycle rider was Thorold.
"Oh," she cried. "I am glad to see you!"
He got off his cycle at once, asked what was the matter, and very soon
had the burst tyre removed and the new one in its place.
"I thought something must have happened, as you did not turn up, so I
came to meet you," he said simply.
There was no word of reproach or "I told you so," and Gentian felt
subdued and very grateful. She started her car again, and he drove by
her side, till she reached the Vicarage, then he helped her to put her
car by, wished her good night, and disappeared, but Gentian felt that
she had not heard the last of this late run to town.
Miss Ward with an anxious troubled face met her at the door. Her
reproaches and remonstrances continued during Gentian's late supper.
She got impatient at last.
"I am tired, Waddy. You should never kick a person when she's down.
Good night."
And abruptly she left her and went to bed.