“Not a cloud came over him.” She would believe that and smile, ageing,
stricken, lonely as she was, till her life’s end.
Perhaps after all it was so. Perhaps he had not allowed one woman’s
petty favours and denials to make a shadow across the large and
perpetual sunshine of his way. How little, after all, they had been
together, how few words exchanged; how insignificant a figure she must
have been, when all was said and done, among all the figures in his
thousands of days!
Slowly, the darkness was lifting. Soon now, Jennifer’s letter must come,
and a new beginning dawn out of this end of all things.
5
It came, one morning when the first gale had started to sweep in upon
the season’s painted picture; a day when lights, shadows, leaves and
wings of birds moved, flew, shone, flickered, paused in a restless
harmony.
Darling,
Something makes me write to you now. I have often nearly started
and then given it up, but now it feels as if I must, it feels
rather like an evening that perhaps you don’t remember but I do,
when I _had_ to come and see you after not having been able to for
ages--that time you were ill.
I have felt such a sort of disgrace to myself, and you, and
College, and English girlhood, going away like that, that I decided
I’d better keep quiet for a bit. I _couldn’t_ write. But now I
must. Have you been waiting and waiting for a letter, and thinking
I’d forgotten you? Darling, I haven’t forgotten you. Perhaps you’ve
forgotten me. But I don’t think so. It is most damnably difficult
writing to you. As you see, this is more illegible even than usual
with the effort. College does seem so far away. Higher Education
for Women never did me any good--except it gave me you and you are
an angel and so lovely. I feel very old and different. You remember
my hair--you liked it--I have had it all cut off. Just because
Geraldine’s was short I thought I must have mine the same. Just
like me. Mother can’t get over it, she now thinks my morals are
past praying about, which is a step in the right direction. It all
waves and curls and it is marvellous to be without the weight of it
and the bloody hairpins prodding my scalp under hats. I thought
getting rid of it would be a good way to cut off the past as well.
I thought I’d be a different person, more adapted to Geraldine, if
I did it. And anyway I couldn’t bear her brushing it after you. You
remember Geraldine. It was because of her I left College.
Darling, do you hate me now, you ought to. Oh, that last term and
the night when I said good-bye to you. I try never to think about
it, because it makes me feel so awful. I promised I’d explain
everything, didn’t I, but it’s not much easier now than then
because I suppose whatever’s been happening to you you’re still an
innocent baby, while I feel like the most corrupt disreputable I
don’t know what. Have you had a tremendous love-affair yet? I
always used to think there was a man you were on the verge of
loving. Perhaps he’s made you understand by now what it really
means being in love. I loved you frightfully from the very first. I
used to think about you night and day. I was in a fever about you.
I began to be absolutely afraid of my feelings for you, they were
so extremely strong. I couldn’t understand them. Then I met
Geraldine, and I realized a lot of things. You know what I am--she
swept me off my feet. I was too excited to think. She dazzled me. I
simply let everybody and everything else go. _And all the time I
loved you more than ever._ You may not believe it but it’s true.
But I couldn’t explain to you how I felt--I didn’t care. You’d have
hated it really, wouldn’t you? You are pure and ethereal and I am
not. Nor was Geraldine. You used to look after me and kiss me as if
you were my mother (not _really_ mine of course, who is quite
awful, one of those lipless women. I suppose Nature wanted to
readjust the balance of mouth and that accounts for mine.) I got
into such a ghastly muddle over it all, I thought the best thing I
could do was to go away. Geraldine clung rather--I knew she’d
always be coming up, and I didn’t want her and you to meet, I knew
she’d be jealous (she’s the most jealous person I ever knew). And I
saw things could never be happy between you and me again. Oh, it
was a hellish muddle. It doesn’t bear thinking of. I _had_ to go
away and try and forget. Just like me. I’m such a coward. I went
abroad with her and she gave me a marvellous time, I must say. I
was absolutely fascinated by her to start with, almost hypnotized,
and we went all over Europe. You know I can’t help more or less
enjoying life frightfully, especially when it’s being rather wild
and queer--and it was. But then one or two people I met fell in
love with me and I suppose I fell a bit in love with them, I always
do, and she got jealous and more and more full of accusations and
reproaches. I was so sick of her I could hardly bear to look at
her. She never could see a joke. So in the end I left her and came
home. She goes on writing me reproachful letters, but I don’t
answer them.
Oh, dear, you seem to be very far away from me now. I shall never
find anyone who understands like you again. Why did you ever waste
your time over me? I’m rotten and I always shall be. As you see I’m
at home now, but I shan’t stay long. There are far too many raised
eyebrows and disapproving chins about. I’m only waiting till I can
raise some money and then I expect I’ll go abroad again. I always
prophesied I’d come to a bad end, didn’t I? I seem to like nearly
all the vices.
I suppose we shall never meet again. What’s the good? You’re
probably full of new things and people by now, and I daresay I’m
changed for the worse. Quite a Fallen Woman. And you wouldn’t like
me any more. I simply couldn’t face it. But write to me once and
tell me everything. Tell me if you understand. Tell me I was right
to go away. Oh, I’d like to be back with you in Cambridge--just for
a day, even for an hour--just you and me. There’ll never be
anything like that, again.
Darling, have you cut off your hair I wonder. It was lovely too,
parted in the middle, so smooth and thick and dark purple. You
can’t have changed it. You will never change, will you, only get
more and more deep and clear and yourself. I shall change, but you
must always remember I love you.