"Oh, Mr Maplestone, don't! It's all a mistake. It must be! How can
you care? You know so little of me; we have met so seldom. How can you
possibly know that you would like me as a wife?"
He gave a quick, excited laugh.
"It's all true what those poet fellows write about love! I used to
laugh and call it nonsense; but when it comes to one's own turn, it's
the truest thing in the whole world! How do I know? I can't tell you,
Evelyn; but I _do_ know. It's just the one certain fact in life. I
want you! I'm going to have you!"
He stretched out his arms as if to seize me then and there, and I shrank
back, looking, I suppose, as I felt, frightened to death, for instantly
his manner changed, his arms dropped to his side, and he cried in the
gentlest, softest of tones:--
"Don't be frightened of me! Don't be frightened! Forgive me if I seem
rough. Rough to _you_! Oh, my sweet, give me a chance to show what I
could be! You have done enough caring for other people; now let me take
care of you! Be my wife, _Evelyn_!"
It was all too painful and miserable, and--yes, too beautiful to put
into words. I cried, and said, No! no! I was sorry, but I didn't love
him; I had never thought. There was no one else--oh, no; but it was
hopeless all the same. I could never--never--Oh, indeed, I was not
worth being miserable about. He must forget me. On Wednesday I was
going away. He would find when I was not there that he would soon
forget.
He looked at me with sad, stern eyes.
"That's not true! You know it's not true. I am not the sort to forget.
And if there is no one else, why should I try? Evelyn, you don't know
me, if you think one `no' will put me off. I said I would wait seven
years, and I meant what I said. If you go away, I shall follow. What's
this nonsense of leaving no address? Do you imagine, if I choose to
look for you, you can hide yourself from ME?"
He looked so big and masterful that for a moment I felt a qualm of
doubt; then I comforted myself with the reflection that it would be
impossible to discover what did not exist. For a period of time Evelyn
Wastneys was about to disappear from the face of the earth. The
spinster of the basement flat was about to take her place.
"I don't love you! I don't love you!" I repeated helplessly. "I have
never once thought of you except as a--a rather cross, overbearing man
who had taken a dislike to me at first sight. How can I turn round all
in a moment and look upon you as a--a lover? And I have my friend and
my work--and we have just taken our house. I don't want to be married!
I couldn't be married even if I cared!"
"You are going to be married. You are going to marry me! What is this
`work' of which you talk? A woman's work is to make a home, and to help
a man to find his soul. Evelyn, do you imagine for one moment that I am
going to let you go?"
He was himself again: self-confident, resolute, overbearing. I took
refuge in silence, and argued no more.
"Have you enjoyed your drive?" Delphine asked. "Was Ralph civil? It
was unfortunate that I had to leave you alone. Where did you buy your
bonnet, Evelyn? I must get one like it for myself. Does your head
ache, dear? You look quite pale."
I said it did. _Something_ ached! It kept me awake all night with a
dreary, heavy pain. I lay and thought, and thought, until my brain was
in a whirl. Had I been to blame in the past? Honestly I could not see
that I had. What was I to do in the future? Must I tell Charmion? How
could I ever return to "Pastimes"? Round and round the questions
whirled in a never-ending circle, but no solutions came. Then I said my
prayers, with a special plea for guidance for a very lonely, very
worried girl, and gradually, surely, I grew calmer. I reminded myself
that there was no need to worry over the future; and that all I had to
do for the moment was to decide on my duty for to-morrow. For
everybody's sake it appeared best that I should excuse myself to
Delphine and escape to town, since nothing could be gained by another
interview with Ralph Maplestone. I would send him a letter, repeating
my protestations that I could never be his wife, and begging him to
forget me with all possible speed. When he called at the Vicarage to
answer it, he would find that the bird had fled.
The early morning sunlight was stealing in at the window. I closed my
tired eyes and fell asleep.