Every one has noticed that the thought of a friend after a spell of
forgetfulness is frequently the harbinger of a sudden meeting, or of the
receipt of a letter or message. Such happenings are called "curious
coincidences"; but personally I don't consider them curious at all, or
at least no more curious than it is to send a message by telephone, and
to hear in reply a familiar voice speaking across the space. When the
heart sends forth a wireless message of love and goodwill, surely, if we
have in any sense grasped the wonderful power of thought, we must
believe that the message reaches its destination, and calls forth a
response! Right thoughts--thoughts of love and pity and helpfulness--
are prayers winged to heaven and earth; bad thoughts--mean and grudging
and censorious--well, they injure the person who thinks them so much,
that there can't be much poison left for the recipient. In any case,
such leaden things can't rise.
This moralising leads up to the fact that while my own letter to
Delphine lay unfinished on my desk, a note arrived from Ralph
Maplestone, to give me grave news of her husband.
"I am summoned home," he wrote, "in my capacity of vicar's warden.
While I have been in town, poor Merrivale has had an attack of
influenza, which has been pretty serious, and has left him rather
alarmingly weak. I insisted upon calling in a consultant from B--,
whose verdict is that the lungs are seriously threatened. I have feared
it for some time, and am glad that he is now forced to take care. He is
ordered complete rest, and is to get out of England for the spring
months. I shall be kept busy here for some weeks, but expect to run up
to town for a day's business now and then, when I will give myself the
pleasure of calling on you. Meanwhile, will you kindly pass on the news
to Miss Wastneys. I know she will be interested. I rely on you to
fulfil your kind promise." By the same post came a letter from
Charmion, tentatively breaking the news that she would not return for
Christmas. Several minor reasons had contributed to this decision, but
the big one was that she was still "working out her cure" and could do
it better in solitude. What about me? Would I go to Ireland? Could I
work in a visit to friends? Rather than think of me sitting alone in my
dreary little flat, she would put everything on one side, and come
rushing home.
"Dreary little flat, indeed!" I looked round the dainty, rose-lit room,
and laughed a derisive laugh. It was strange. I did not feel a bit
depressed. Life in the basement flat was very full, very interesting,
of late days thrillingly exciting into the bargain. I was not at all
sure that I wanted to go back to "Pastimes" so soon. Christmas in the
flat offered endless possibilities. I would have a tree! Mrs Manners
should help me. Her children would come, and all the Thorolds, and
their father, and Mr Hallett. There should be lots of toys, and lots
of baubles, but useful things too! Things which should truthfully be
"just what I wanted!" Perhaps I would be noble and forgiving and ask
Eric and Claudia and Moreen. Poor mites, it wasn't their fault that
their mother wore false pearls! The tree should be on Christmas Eve,
and on Christmas night I would invite the grown-ups to dinner, and give
them a light, dainty feast, with never a shadow of roast beef or plum
pudding! They could do their duty by convention at the midday meal.
In two minutes' time I had thought out the whole menu, even the
decorations on the table. What fun it would be! How they would all
enjoy it! How little Mrs Manners would revel in the shopping
expeditions! Her present should be a pretty blouse--something pretty,
bought with a view to what is becoming, and not to what will be useful,
and wear for several seasons, and then cut up into dusters. An
occasional extravagance _is_ such a tonic to a feminine mind! As for
the men, Mr Thorold should have a box of cigars. Mr Hallett should
have the same. And in the deadliest secrecy I would commission each to
buy for the other. Then they would be sure to get the right brand.
As for "Pastimes"--our guest tenant would be delighted to have her stay
extended. I wondered if the gardener would pine for Bridget! I
wondered if--_anyone_--would pine for me! Personally the prospect of
occasional "calls" pleased me better than the thought of meetings in the
country, under the Argus eye of village gossips. In the latter case one
would be self-conscious and restrained; in the former, safe from
observation, doubly sheltered behind wig and spectacles, there could be
no doubt as to which position afforded the better opportunity of getting
to know a man's character.
I wrote a letter to Charmion, reassuring her as to Christmas in my
"dreary flat"; I tore up the unfinished note to Delphine, and sent
another, assuring her of my sympathy, repeating my offers of help. Poor
little girl! Her real love for "Jacky" would be in the ascendant now,
and all the pleasure and vanities for which she had pined would seem
trivial things, compared with his dear life.
I did not write to Mr Maplestone. The difficulty of handwriting came
in, and there was no real necessity to answer his note. If I knew
Delphine, she would find it a relief to pour forth her woes on paper. I
waited confidently for a letter to appear.
Two days passed by, three; I was growing anxious, and debating if I
should write again, when there came a loud rat-tat at the door, and a
reply-paid telegram was handed in, addressed to Miss Wastneys:--
"Letter received. Need urgent. Unable to leave. Can you come
to-morrow. Beg you not to refuse. Delphine."
I seized a pencil, scribbled a hasty "Expect me by train arriving
twelve," and having despatched the promise, sat down to consider how I
was to keep it. What an excitement to think of feeling young again, and
being able to devote my attention to looking as nice as I could, instead
of laboriously contriving disfigurements! Under my bed lived a box
wardrobe on wheels, in which, carefully stretched and padded to avoid
creases, reposed a selection of garments which were certainly not suited
to old Miss Harding's requirement. Mentally I reviewed them, selected
the prettiest and most becoming, saw a vision of myself putting the last
touches before the glass, with Bridget's beaming face watching every
stage. Oh, it would be an exhilarating variety, and easy, too--
perfectly easy. I would give the orphan leave of absence for two days,
and send her rejoicing to stay with "me aunt". Then in leisurely
enjoyment I would make my toilette and march complacently into the
street. We possess no porter in our modest mansions; ten to one I
should pass through the hall unseen, and even if I had the ill-luck to
encounter a neighbour--well, if my disguise is good enough to deceive
Ralph Maplestone, it can surely defy less interested eyes!
Bridget was as excited as I was. She hustled the orphan out of the
flat, and superintended my toilette as eagerly as though I were dressing
for a wedding, instead of a country visit.
"Praise the fates, we'll see you looking yourself again! I never was in
favour of this dressing up, and playing tricks with a face which anyone
else would be proud to have, and to take care of. Not that you hadn't
more sense than I gave you credit for! We've been a godsend to this
place, and if anyone doubts it, let 'em look at the kitchen book, and
see the pounds of good meat I've made into beef tea with me own hands.
And you running about by day and by night, waiting on 'em all in turns.
There's no doubt but we've done good, but what I say is--why not do it
with your own face?"
"Don't be foolish, Bridget! I couldn't do it! Look at me now!"--I
swirled round to face her, with a rustle of silk and a flare of skirts.
"_Do_ I look the sort of person to wheel out prams, and give tea parties
to widowers, and be looked upon as a prop and support by my neighbours?"
Bridget chuckled.
"Go away wid you then!" said she, and that was the end of the
discussion.
I met no one in the hall. I met no one in the street. I jumped into a
taxi at the corner and drove off to the station without running the
remotest chance of detection. It was so easy that I determined to do it
again! Every now and then just for a change--just to remember what it
was like to look nice! I arrived at the station and took my ticket.
There was no one I knew upon the platform. I walked to the further end,
and took a seat in an empty first-class carriage. The collector came
round and looked at the tickets; there was a banging all down the length
of the train, a sharp call, "Take your seats, please; take your seats!"
The door of my compartment opened and shut. Ralph Maplestone seated
himself in the corner opposite mine!
"How do you do, Miss Wastneys," said he, as cool as a cucumber.
"How do you do, Mr Maplestone," said I, as red as a beetroot.
Was it chance? Was it coincidence? Was it a deep and laborious plan?
Had he heard from Delphine of my coming and rushed to town for the
express purpose of returning in my company? It looked very like it. My
wire could not have arrived at the Vicarage until after five in the
afternoon, and the next train to town left at nine p.m. There was also
an early morning one at eight-thirty. My brain seethed with curious
questions, but there seemed only a moment's pause before I spoke
again:--
"Have you been staying in town?"
"Er--" his eyes showed a faint flicker of amusement--"not long. You are
going down to see Delphine, I suppose. That's good of you. She needs
bucking up. The Vicar's pretty bad, but with rest and change there's no
reason why he shouldn't pick up. We are arranging to make things easy
for them. It will do him no good if she makes herself miserable."
"That's the sort of futile remark that outsiders generally make on these
occasions. They make me furious!" I cried, glad of an excuse to work
off my self-consciousness in a show of indignation. "Perhaps it won't;
but as he belongs to her, and she loves him, she can hardly be expected
to be happy! In illness all the sympathy is lavished on the invalid.
In reality, the relations are more to be pitied. It's far easier to lie
still and bear physical pain than it is to be wracked with anxiety, and
fatigue, and responsibility all at the same time."