"Remember you are not to grieve! You have promised. That is forbidden
ground!"
"Yes--yes, I know, but my heart, Evelyn! My heart will always
remember." She turned to me tenderly. "Darling girl! we talked about
you--it is through you that this happiness has come. We cannot be
parted. When we are settled in our new home we want you to come over,
to pay us a long, long visit. You could see your sister, too. You
would enjoy that?"
I felt a momentary rising of bitterness, a momentary impulse to say
caustically that it would indeed be soothing for a lonely woman to visit
two devoted married couples, but there was a wistful tone in her voice
which showed that she understood. I made a big effort to laugh
naturally, and made a vague promise. This was Charmion's night. I
should be a poor thing if I damped her joy!
"And about `Pastimes,'" she said slowly. "The agreement stands, of
course. I pay half expenses for the next three years. Live in it, lend
it, rent it as you think best. I should love best to think of you
living there, until you come to us. You could find some friend--"
"Oh, yes! I have made enough friends at the `Mansions' to keep me
supplied with visitors for months to come. _If_ I go back. But I'm not
sure. This has come upon me with a rush, Charmion. I shall have to sit
down, and think quietly. I shall see you again before you sail?"
"Of course." She looked at me with reproach. "You are the dearest
person in the world to me, Evelyn--except _one_. Do you suppose I could
leave England without seeing you again? We'll arrange a meeting
somewhere, and have a week together. You and I, and Mr Thorold, and
Edward." She turned a sudden scrutinising glance upon me. "Evelyn, I
have a haunting conviction that you are changed; that some man has come
into your life. You aren't by any possibility going to marry Wenham
Thorold?"
"Indeed I am not. He hasn't the faintest desire to marry me, or I to
marry him. We are excellent friends, but nothing more. I honestly
believe he regrets Miss Harding. You are growing too personal, my dear.
I shall go to bed."
She laughed, kissed me, but refused to move.
"I'm not tired. I don't want to sleep. Sleep means forgetfulness," she
said. "It will rest me more to remember!"
I left her leaning forward, with hands clasped round her knees, gazing
into the fire.
Charmion left the next morning, and I prepared, with the strangest
reluctance, to turn back into Miss Harding, and return to the basement
flat. For the last week I had been living in an atmosphere of romance,
which had put me out of tune with ordinary life. Bridget showed her
usual understanding. "'Deed, I always _did_ say a wedding was the most
upsetting thing in life!" she declared. "A funeral's not in it for
upsetting your nerves, and setting you on to grizzle, the same as a
wedding. Not that Mrs Fane's--Hallett, I suppose--was a wedding
exactly, but it sort of churned you up more than if it was. To see her
all a-smiling and a-flushing, and looking so young! Her as always held
herself so cold. And now to have to go back to live underground, with
you mumping about in a shawl!"
"Cheer up, Bridget dear," I said soothingly. "It won't be for long. I
feel myself that I need a change. Perhaps we'll go to Ireland. The
Aunts are grumbling because I don't go. Just a few weeks more, while I
think things over and make my plans. Make the best of it, there's a
good soul!"
She looked at me, more in sorrow than in anger.
"I'll make the best of it, _with_ the best, when there's a call to do
it," she said firmly; "but you'll only be young once, my dear. You may
throw away things now as you'll pine to get back all the days of your
life. When you're thinking things over just remember that!" She
stumped from the room, leaving me to digest her words.
The next week passed heavily. I saw little of Mr Thorold, and
suspected that the revelation of Evelyn would work against further
intimacy. It was impossible that he could feel the same freedom and
ease; impossible that he should commandeer my help as he had done in
days past. There was no blame attached to the position, it was natural
and inevitable; but the loss of the easy, pleasant intercourse left a
gap in my life.
Mrs Manners had gone with her children to visit her mother; Mrs
Travers cut me in the hall. Poor Miss Harding was having a bad time!
Nobody needed her; her absence had passed unnoticed; her return awoke no
welcome. Bridget besought me to go out and amuse myself, but I
obstinately refused to go, and stayed glued in the flat. Not for worlds
would I have acknowledged it to a living creature, but--I was afraid
that while I was out some one might call. Ralph Maplestone had said
that business would bring him to town. Now that the Merrivales were in
Switzerland, and that anxiety was off his hands, he could come when he
liked. If he did not come it must be because he did _not_ like!
The reflection did not help to raise my spirits, nor to pass the
long-houred days; but it did give me an insight into my own heart. For
the first time I was honest with myself, and acknowledged that I
_wanted_ him to come! I faced the possibility that I might wait in
vain, and felt suddenly faint and weak. It had come to this, that I
_needed_ his strength, that I felt it impossible to face life without
him by my side. I determined, if he _did_ come, to show signs of
weakness in my resolution; possibly to go so far as to arrange a meeting
with my niece.
He came one afternoon when I was darning stockings by the dining-room
table, and the disobedient orphan showed him straight in on the domestic
scene. I hurriedly hitched round my chair and drew the casement
curtains, making an excuse of "too much sun," then folded the shawl
round my shoulders, and sat at attention. He said he was pleased to see
me. Was I quite well? The weather was very bright. Good news from
Switzerland, wasn't it? General Underwood was suffering from gout.
What were Miss Wastneys' plans for the summer?
"She--she doesn't know herself!" I sighed vaguely. "Circumstances
have--er--altered. Her friend Mrs Fane"--(I realised that Escott would
have to hear some explanation of Charmion's departure, but was loth to
set tongues wagging)--"has decided to return to America. She has spent
most of her life there, and has many ties."
He looked supremely uninterested. Mrs Fane might go to Kamtschatka for
all he cared!
"And will Miss Wastneys keep on the house alone?"
"Nothing is yet decided; but I think--not!"
He looked unperturbed. Showed none of the agitation I had hoped to see.
"Does she intend to join Mrs Fane in America?"
Now I felt hurt! Obviously, oh, quite obviously, he did not like me so
much as he did! It was nothing to him where I lived--nothing to him
where I went! A terrible feeling of loneliness overwhelmed me. Nobody
cared! I pressed my lips together to prevent their trembling; behind my
spectacles I blinked smarting eyes. A big brown hand stretched out and
was laid over mine; a big soft voice asked tenderly:--
"_Evelyn! How long is this tomfoolery to go on_?"
We were standing facing one another across the table. I had darted
behind its shelter in that first moment of shock and dismay. His face
was lit with a mischievous smile; his hands were thrust into his trouser
pockets; his eyes surveyed me with a horrible, twinkling triumph.
"Oh! Oh! Oh! You know!"
"Of course I know!"
"You have known all the time? From the very beginning?"
"Not just at first! I'll give you credit for taking me in for a short
time--a very short time! Then you gave yourself away."
"How? How?"
"When you do a thing at all, you ought to do it thoroughly. Your
disguise was incomplete."
"Incomplete? But I had lessons. I paid to be taught."
"Then your instructor, whoever he may be, omitted one important item.
The moment I noticed it, the whole thing became plain. I knew I was
talking to Evelyn Wastneys, and not to her aunt."
I remembered the sudden flashes of complacency which had mystified me so
completely. This was the explanation! I was devoured with curiosity.
"What was it? You must tell me!"
"Your hands!" He smiled, showing his strong, white teeth. "Your pretty
hands, with the dimples, and the pink nails, and--the sapphire ring!"
"Ah!" I looked down at the big square stone in its setting of diamonds,
and felt inclined to stamp with rage at my own forgetfulness. It was my
mother's engagement ring, and for years I had worn it every day. To my
new friends, of course, it had no associations; but for this man who had
noticed it on Evelyn's finger, who had gazed with a lover's admiration
at Evelyn's hand, the clue was unmistakable! So far as Ralph Maplestone
was concerned, all my care, all my pains, had been rendered useless by
that one stupid little omission!
I stood dumb and discomfited, and the Chippendale mirror on the opposite
wall reflected a round-shouldered figure, a spectacled, disfigured face.
I felt a sudden, overwhelming impatience with my disguise.
"For pity's sake, Evelyn, run away and turn into yourself!" came the
command from the big voice. (It is extraordinary how he follows my
thoughts!) "I can't make love to you in those things."
"I don't want you to make love to me!" I said--and lied!
"But I do, you see, and it's my turn! I've waited long enough."
He crossed the room, opened the door, and stood with the knob in his
hand, waiting for me to pass through. I stiffened my back and stood
still. I told myself that to give in--_after that_--meant that I
agreed--practically gave my consent. I would _not_ do it! I would
_not_! I would stand all day rather than move an inch. Nothing should
induce me. He rattled the knob, and stared steadily in my face. I
turned and--_went_!
"Evelyn Wastneys, will you take this man to be your wedded husband?"
I had come back again--in my blue dress!--and he met me on the
threshold, where I verily believe he had been standing waiting, all the
time I changed. He took both my hands in his, and asked the question so
deeply and seriously that it brought the tears to my eyes.
"I think I--will!" I said shakily. "But you must not be too sudden
with me, please, because I was so certain that I never would. You must
give me time to get used to the idea."
"You can really love me? You can really manage to care?"
"I can! The difficulty lately has been--the other way! When you didn't
come I was afraid. I had a horrible conviction that you'd changed your
mind."
He laughed, and drew me closer, wrapping me close in his strong arms. I
lay still, and felt as if all my burdens were rolling away, and a big
strong barrier hedged me in and protected me from the buffets and
responsibilities of life. It was a blissful feeling--full of joy, full
of rest. Now it seemed worth while having been a lonely woman. No
sheltered, home-living girl could possibly have rejoiced as I rejoiced.
"You are mine! I'll take care of you. No more rushing about, and
living in disguise."
"I don't want to ramble. Never did! I want a home, and my own man. Do
you remember when you said you would give me my own way--in reason?"
"And you objected that I would wish to come first? I do."
"Bless your lonely heart! So do I. I'm afraid I shall spoil you,
Ralph!"
"Oh, do!" he cried, and there was a hunger in his voice that sank deep
in my heart. He needed me! How good it was to know that, to realise
that in all the teeming millions in the world no woman could be to him
that I was!