A FRESH PROPOSITION
IT was a very quiet Gentian who came into the small drawing-room the
next afternoon, when she was told by Miss Ward that Thorold had called
and wished to see her. She shook hands with him in silence, and seated
herself on the low cushioned window seat.
"I really meant to have asked Mrs. Wharnecliffe to speak to you about
this," said Thorold coming to the point at once; "but I rather believe
in doing disagreeable things oneself. I suppose you see for yourself
how impossible it is for you to be a public chauffeur."
"I am sure," said Gentian pathetically, "I have had enough
expostulation and scolding and threatening from Miss Ward, but I am
ready to have it over again. Please get it over as quickly as you can."
"Supposing I had not been able to meet you, what would you have done?"
asked Thorold rather brusquely.
"I should have waited till some one came by."
"And who would that have been? Just after we started do you remember a
cart of drunken men who almost overtook us?"
"Yes," said Gentian unguardedly; "I had already seen them at the inn."
"Would you have liked their help?"
"I should not have asked for it."
"But they would have offered it, of course."
"Well, I can look after myself. Girls have to do so nowadays."
"They never will if I have anything to do with them." Thorold spoke
sharply, and very determinedly. "Yesterday you were mercifully
kept from harm, but did not your experience show you that you were
absolutely unfitted to run a car as a man could?"
"No," flashed forth Gentian; "it didn't. Difficulties make me long to
overcome them. I won't be crushed by them. I think the jack must have
been rusty. I shall practice using it till I can do it quite easily."
"It must be stopped, Gentian. We will find something else for you to
do. You cannot run a car for the benefit of the public."
Gentian looked out of the window. When she turned round tears were
trembling on the tips of her eyelashes.
"You have no right to dictate to me," she said, trying to maintain her
dignity.
"Cheer up," Thorold said. "I don't want to take your car from you. But
you must promise me that you'll never take any long journey so late in
the day. And I'll see if we can't find something better for you to do."
"If your car is for hire, you can't dictate to people the time you go."
"Well, we'll trust you won't be asked to go off to London so late in
the day again. And if it did happen that you were asked to take a night
journey, you must absolutely refuse."
Gentian said nothing.
"I'm in dead earnest," Thorold said, looking at her.
"Oh," said Gentian passionately, "I haven't a friend in the world
except Waddy. Jim has left me, and you're determined to refuse me my
liberty and shut me up here, and take away from me the only hope of
earning my living and being independent."
"Oh no. I will help you to be independent if I can. We won't quarrel.
It's only because I want you to be shielded from unpleasantness and
harm that I object to this car business. Forgive me, and let us part
friends."
He smiled upon her, and when Thorold smiled he was irresistible.
Gentian put her hand into his.
"Interfering with the object of doing others good, is your besetting
sin, I think, Cousin Thorold. Good-bye. I was very glad to see you last
night. Those woods on each side of me frightened me. I promise you I
won't do night journeys again. I don't like them."
She had recovered her spirits, but the next morning when she found that
Thorold had quietly removed her notice board she was ruffled again.
"Was there ever a more arbitrary, meddlesome, managing man than Cousin
Thorold!" she said to Miss Ward.
"I think he is one of the kindest, truest friends that any girl could
wish to have," was Miss Ward's fervent response.
And Gentian, seeing she would get no sympathy from her, said no more.
She took her car into Winderball nearly every day, and it was
astonishing how many fares she got.
About a week later, she went out as usual one morning and did not
return till six o'clock.
Miss Ward asked her where she had been.
"Out into the country a long way, and they made me take them a long
round. They were looking at houses. Most of my good fares are people
house-hunting."
"Did you have any lunch?"
"Yes, we stopped at an inn."
She said no more, but all the evening was strangely silent and
preoccupied. The next morning she did not take her car out, but told
Miss Ward she was going to practise in the church. She had found a lame
boy who was always ready to blow for her, when her usual blower was at
school.
Mrs. Wharnecliffe appeared about twelve o'clock, and hearing the sound
of the organ as she passed the church, stopped her car and went in.
She could tell at once from Gentian's playing that all was not well
with her. But she did not interrupt her, she took a back seat in the
little church and waited.
The music ceased at last. Gentian dismissed the lame boy; she had no
idea that anyone was in the church but herself, and Mrs. Wharnecliffe
felt a little uncomfortable when she saw her leave her organ stool and,
slipping into one of the front seats, kneel down and bury her face in
her hands.
When Gentian rose at last, the church was empty; but she found Mrs.
Wharnecliffe walking up and down the churchyard.
They greeted each other affectionately; then Gentian turned rather
eagerly to her.
"Dear Mrs. Wharnecliffe. I think I'm going to make you happy. Certainly
Cousin Thorold will be, but my future is very dark. I'm giving up my
car. I shall never use it for the public, and I shan't be able to
afford the oil for it, so I suppose I shall have to sell it."
"Since when have you decided this, dear?" Mrs. Wharnecliffe asked
gently.
"Oh, I've lost all zest for it, for some days. And yesterday I said
to myself 'never again.' I was driving four very common men about the
country. And I didn't like them at all. And it isn't pleasant to be a
girl sometimes, Mrs. Wharnecliffe. And I'd rather be a road-mender on
the road, than everybody's and anybody's chauffeur."
Mrs. Wharnecliffe was much astonished, but could not hide her approval,
and Gentian's eyes were keen and far-seeing.
"Ah!" she said, throwing out her hands in her foreign gesture of
despair. "I shall have no sympathy from anyone. I must learn to go my
way through life without it. You are pleased when I am sad—you are sad
when I am pleased."
"My dear child, I cannot help feeling pleased when you show such
wisdom. I wish you would tell me a little more. I am afraid you have
experienced some unpleasantness. It was what we feared would happen.
But I am sorry, very sorry for you."
"It is past."
Gentian drew herself up to her full height. There was pride and a
little aloofness in her voice.
"I will not talk about it, Mrs. Wharnecliffe. But I am hardly happy
to-day. I cannot be—I wish—"
Here her tone became impassioned and vicious.
"I wish I was an old hag with a bald head and hairs about my chin, and
a nutcracker mouth, and a hump on my back, and then I would drive my
car anywhere, everywhere, by day, and by night, and enjoy myself!"
"Oh Gentian, what a child you are!"
Gentian joined Mrs. Wharnecliffe in her laughter.
"I feel better now. Come and see Waddy. I have been as cross as two
sticks to her all the morning. And I'll leave you to tell her of my
decision, and she and you will sing a song of thanksgiving together,
while I go for a solitary walk."
"No, no, wait! I think I have some good news for you. I came along to
tell it to you. It has come at the right time."
Gentian smiled.
"I'm sure it's another job you have found me. Let me guess. Is it to
teach in the infants' school?"
"No. Yesterday I was visiting some old friends of mine who live about
five miles away. They are sisters, two elderly women. One is very
strong—has never been ill in her life she says, and she still rides and
hunts. The other is delicate, and lives too much indoors. Her doctor
wants her to have air, and has suggested her having some motor-drives.
She used to have a carriage, but was upset one day by a drunken
coachman, and has never taken a drive since. She sold the carriage and
horses and dismissed her coachman. I got her to drive with me the other
day in my car, and she thoroughly enjoyed it. I suggested your taking
her for regular drives every day, and she is delighted at the thought
of it. She may eventually buy a car of her own, but at present she
would like to consider yours at her disposal whenever she wants it. And
she will give you anything you like to ask. She understands that if you
keep your car for her, you will be unable to use it for anyone else."
Gentian's face was a study. The brilliant colour came back to her
cheeks and the light to her eyes. She seemed as if she could not speak
for a few minutes; then her eyes grew misty and tears trembled on the
edges of her eyelashes.
"And so while I was praying," she said in a whisper, "the answer was
coming along the road to meet me. Mrs. Wharnecliffe, if only you
weren't an English woman I would throw my arms round your neck and
hug you! Do consider it done, will you. How lucky I am to have such a
friend! Am I to start to-morrow? Will she want me in the morning or the
afternoon, or both?"
"Not quite so fast. They would like to see you and talk it over. So I
said I would bring you to-morrow, or rather that you would bring me in
your car, so that they could see it."
"Oh, do go and tell Waddy. She will be so glad!"
But Gentian did not go in with Mrs. Wharnecliffe. She sped up the road
to a certain small pine wood which she had discovered, and which served
her as a delightful retreat when she wanted to be alone and think.
She did not come away from it for a full hour. And then on the way home
she met Thorold.
"Well," he said; "have you had a good day at your trade?"
"Have you not met Mrs. Wharnecliffe?"
"No, I have been over the hill to one of my tenant farmers. Has she
been in these parts to-day?"
"Oh yes, indeed she has."
Gentian leant against a gate in the hedge, and looked up at Thorold
with a reflective light in her blue eyes.
"I'm considering," she said, with a mischievous curl to her lips,
"whether I shall keep back part of the truth from you. I think I will.
You are not my Father Confessor. I am thinking of being a kind of
private chauffeur to an invalid lady, a friend of Mrs. Wharnecliffe."
"Capital!"
"If she makes it worth my while, it will be less fatiguing than
ordinary hire work."
Thorold's face, like Mrs. Wharnecliffe's, showed relief and
satisfaction.
Gentian frowned.
"So now when you pass me in the road, you needn't screw up your eyes
to see whom I'm driving, and you needn't have your motor-cycle at hand
ready to dash out and meet me if I am rather late in getting home. In
fact you will be able to dismiss me entirely from your thoughts and
observation. And forget that I exist."
"I wonder if I shall," said Thorold in rather a drawling voice.
"I shall be too busy to give you a thought," said Gentian with a little
snap in her tone.
And then Thorold laughed.
"I was just going to ask you to come to a tea-party at my house the day
after to-morrow. I have some farmers' wives coming—six of them—we're
going to talk over the dairy stall at the flower-show in Winderball
next month, and I want some one to pour out tea for them. I thought
perhaps Miss Ward would come too—"
In a moment Gentian's face cleared.
"I shall love to come," she said enthusiastically; "I adore pouring out
tea! And farmers' wives are great fun, I'm sure!"
"They will be very serious, for it's a committee meeting, and if you've
had no experience of them, you will be astonished at the gravity of the
situation."
"Oh, I won't let them be grave. I can always make people laugh if I
want to. It's a pity you're so grave, Cousin Thorold. Perhaps when
you realize that the burden and cares of my livelihood are no more
necessary, you will take a brighter view of things."
"It's a wonderful thing—the different point of view that people take.
Now Mrs. Wharnecliffe always complains that I am frivolous!"
"Oh, I know what she means. You never seem in earnest, or care about
anything very much. That's why you annoy me so. You always seem
laughing at me up your sleeve!"
"Then I do know how to laugh sometimes?"
Gentian made an impatient movement, as if she were about to walk on,
then she turned towards him again.
"You're a solid bit of rock, and I'm just a bubble! That's what I feel
when I talk to you. And I feel more bubbly than ever now that I have a
fresh start in front of me. Ah! I forgot! I can make no engagement for
the day after to-morrow. My old lady may want me—"
"She'll be enjoying tea under her mulberry tree at the time I want you—"
"Well, don't be surprised if I fail to turn up. She may be going to
a tea-party. Perhaps she may come to yours. But she isn't a farmer's
wife."
"I have one lady coming to me. She is a Miss Horatia Buchan."
"Then she can pour out tea if I don't turn up. Good-bye."
She nodded to him and walked on.
Thorold went on his way, but he muttered to himself:
"Now I wonder what has upset the child and caused this revolution. Wild
horses would not have dragged her to this old lady a week ago!"
Gentian went straight to her garage and pulled out her car. For half an
hour she cleaned and oiled it, then she walked into the house and had
her lunch.
Miss Ward was of course beaming.
"It seems the very thing for you, dear. How kind Mrs. Wharnecliffe is!
I feel I shall not be anxious now about you, for I shall know that you
are in good company."
"I'm going to run over and see Sir Gilbert after lunch," said Gentian;
"would you like to come? It's a pretty drive—"
"No thank you. I'm not fond of motoring, as you know."
It was not the first time Gentian had been to see the blind man. She
and he had struck up a great friendship. And he was pretty certain to
see her if she was in any difficulty or trouble. But to-day she arrived
over in the best of spirits. It was a very warm afternoon and she found
him on the lawn under an old cedar.
His secretary was reading to him, but he closed the book when he saw
Gentian and slipped away, for he knew the two liked to be together for
a tête-à-tête talk.
"Sir Gilbert, it is true, quite true what you told me the other day.
I put it to the test. You said if we took a right step, we should
not suffer for it, that God always gave better than we could give
ourselves. I decided this morning early that I would be a public
chauffeur no longer. I think I have been driven to it. But it cost me
a lot to give it up, only I knew it was the right step, and I was in
such trouble about it that I went into church to comfort myself with
the organ. And you know, for you play yourself, how the organ makes you
think of Paradise, and of God, so I left the organ and got down on my
knees and prayed that God would give me something better than what I
was giving up. And the answer came directly. Mrs. Wharnecliffe came up
and told me an old lady wanted the monopoly of my car, and I was to be
her chauffeur. Isn't it splendid! I'm going to see her to-morrow."
Sir Gilbert smiled.
"It's good news for all your friends," he said; "none of us have liked
your occupation."
"No—and it shows how wicked I am at heart, for the thought of Cousin
Thorold's satisfaction, and of Mrs. Wharnecliffe's relief, and Waddy's
thankfulness, makes me just long to go back to it. They've all proved
so annoyingly right in their fears and surmises."
"You feel that the young ought to prove more wise in their judgments
than the old? Well, we all have done that in our time, and as we grow
older our heads are bowed lower down. Age teaches humility."
"I feel humbled to the dust, but I'm very grateful for my answered
prayer. And it makes me want more than ever to be good, really good
like you. Do you think I shall ever be so? Don't say you aren't good."
"None of us are really good, my child. But you will learn to love more,
and then your service will be easier."
Gentian's face was very sweet and grave. She clasped her hands round
her old friend's arm and looked up into his face very earnestly.
"I have felt uncomfortable for weeks. I knew that I was doing every day
what you all disapproved of! Now to-morrow I am making a fresh start.
And I will learn to love more, and trust more. Now will you play to me?"
Sir Gilbert gladly acquiesced; he went to his organ and Gentian settled
herself in a comfortable chair to listen.
Sir Gilbert had said to Mrs. Wharnecliffe:
"Your little friend has a dual nature: she is by turns a wayward, gay
little soul, and a very sweet and earnest aspirant after holy things."
And certainly now, Gentian, with her wistful eyes and rapt grave face,
was very different from the mischievous laughing girl which most
outsiders knew and admired.
When the music ceased Gentian rose to go.
"One day I shall compose," she said slowly and thoughtfully; "and my
first composition will be a soul's flight to Paradise. We often get to
the gates before we die. We go up like the skylark and then we drop as
swiftly as he does to earth again. I get so close to the gates when you
play to me! And when you stop, I drop like a stone to the ground."
"Then my music is of no use to you," Sir Gilbert said a little sadly.
"But yes, it is," she said, seizing his hand and keeping it between
both of hers. "We can't live above the earth always; but it makes me
long and long for the Unseen Land. And I am praying and trying to live
as I should, till I reach it."
"May God bless you, my child," was the blind man's quick response.
And then Gentian bent her head and pressed her lips to his wrinkled
hand.
"I have come to you in my bad moments," she said; "and to-day I thought
I must give you my good news. Au revoir."
She left him and arrived home with a happy, smiling face.
"Waddy, you did a good thing when you came down here on my account. I
think we're going to have a rattling good time, don't you?"
Miss Ward smiled.
"Well, yes, my dear, we have certainly fallen on our feet. There are
very few men so generous and kind as your cousin has been to us."
"Oh, Cousin Thorold. I wasn't thinking of him. He's a very good buffer,
as he said, and he's useful at times, but there are other friends round
about us, and I hope I shall make fresh friends to-morrow. I'm longing
to see my new employer."