Without knowing it, Somerset was drawing near to a crisis in this soft
correspondence which would speedily put his assertions to the test; but
the knowledge came upon him soon enough for his peace.
Her next letter, dated March 9th, was the shortest of all he had
received, and beyond the portion devoted to the building-works it
contained only the following sentences:--
‘I am almost angry with you, George, for being vexed because I am not
more effusive. Why should the verbal I LOVE YOU be ever uttered between
two beings of opposite sex who have eyes to see signs? During the seven
or eight months that we have known each other, you have discovered
my regard for you, and what more can you desire? Would a reiterated
assertion of passion really do any good? Remember it is a natural
instinct with us women to retain the power of obliging a man to hope,
fear, pray, and beseech as long as we think fit, before we confess to a
reciprocal affection.
‘I am now going to own to a weakness about which I had intended to keep
silent. It will not perhaps add to your respect for me. My uncle,
whom in many ways I like, is displeased with me for keeping up this
correspondence so regularly. I am quite perverse enough to venture
to disregard his feelings; but considering the relationship, and his
kindness in other respects, I should prefer not to do so at present.
Honestly speaking, I want the courage to resist him in some things. He
said to me the other day that he was very much surprised that I did not
depend upon his judgment for my future happiness. Whether that meant
much or little, I have resolved to communicate with you only by
telegrams for the remainder of the time we are here. Please reply by the
same means only. There, now, don’t flush and call me names! It is for
the best, and we want no nonsense, you and I. Dear George, I feel more
than I say, and if I do not speak more plainly, you will understand what
is behind after all I have hinted. I can promise you that you will not
like me less upon knowing me better. Hope ever. I would give up a good
deal for you. Good-bye!’
This brought Somerset some cheerfulness and a good deal of gloom. He
silently reproached her, who was apparently so independent, for lacking
independence in such a vital matter. Perhaps it was mere sex, perhaps
it was peculiar to a few, that her independence and courage, like
Cleopatra’s, failed her occasionally at the last moment.
One curious impression which had often haunted him now returned with
redoubled force. He could not see himself as the husband of Paula Power
in any likely future. He could not imagine her his wife. People were apt
to run into mistakes in their presentiments; but though he could picture
her as queening it over him, as avowing her love for him unreservedly,
even as compromising herself for him, he could not see her in a state of
domesticity with him.
Telegrams being commanded, to the telegraph he repaired, when, after two
days, an immediate wish to communicate with her led him to dismiss
vague conjecture on the future situation. His first telegram took the
following form:--
‘I give up the letter writing. I will part with anything to please you
but yourself. Your comfort with your relative is the first thing to be
considered: not for the world do I wish you to make divisions within
doors. Yours.’
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday passed, and on Saturday a telegram came in
reply:--
‘I can fear, grieve at, and complain of nothing, having your nice
promise to consider my comfort always.’
This was very pretty; but it admitted little. Such short messages were
in themselves poor substitutes for letters, but their speed and easy
frequency were good qualities which the letters did not possess. Three
days later he replied:--
‘You do not once say to me “Come.” Would such a strange accident as my
arrival disturb you much?’