"No, there is nothing--we have had no quarrels. I like Wallace very
much, oh, very much indeed, but not--I could never--I couldn't be
anything more than his friend."
"Is there then someone else whom you care for?"
There were several people, but I couldn't exactly say so to her--it
seemed so rude. Wallace was a nice, kind boy, but he couldn't compare
for interest with--Jim Carstairs, for instance, dear, silent, loyal,
patient Jim, who gives all, and asks nothing in return, or even jolly
little Mr Nash, who is always happy and smiling, and trying to make
other people happy. I like them both better than Wallace, to say
nothing of-- And then a picture rose before me of a tall, lean figure
dressed in a tweed shooting-suit, of a sunburnt face, out of which
looked blue eyes, which at one moment would twinkle with laughter, and
at the next grow stern and grave and cold. They could soften, too, and
look wonderfully tender. I had seen them like that just once or twice
when he looked at me, and said, "Una!" and at the remembrance, for some
stupid reason the blood rushed to my face, and there I sat blushing,
blushing, blushing, until my very ears tingled with heat.
I said nothing, and Mrs Forbes said nothing, but looking up at the end
of a horrid silence, I saw that her face had entirely changed in
expression since I had seen it last. All the softness had left it; she
looked the image of wounded dignity.
"I understand! There is nothing more to say, then, except that if you
were so very sure of your own feelings, I cannot understand how it is
that you have allowed the matter to get this length. I am thankful to
know that my boy's principles are strong enough to prevent his
disappointment doing him any real harm. It might have been very
different with many young men. At the best it is a hard thing for us to
see his young life clouded, and you will understand that it is our duty
to protect him from further suffering. You will not think me
inhospitable if I suggest that your visit had better come to an end at
once."
My cheeks burnt. It was humiliation indeed to be told to go in that
summary fashion, but I knew I deserved it, and I should have been
thankful to leave that very moment.
"I will go to-day. There is a train at one o'clock. I can send a
telegram from the station, and tell mother I am coming. I will go up-
stairs now and pack," I cried, and she never protested a bit, but said
quite quietly that she would order a cab to take me to the station.
Talk about feeling small! I simply cringed as I went out of that room.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The carriage was waiting for me at the station at the end of a miserable
journey, but no one was in it. I had hoped that father would come to
meet me. I could have spoken to him, and he would have understood.
John said he was out for the day with a shooting-party, and when I
reached the house another disappointment awaited me, for I was met by an
announcement that mother also had been obliged to go out to keep an
engagement.
"She hopes to be home by five o'clock," said the servant. "Miss Vere
and Lady Mary are in the blue sitting-room. Mr Dudley has just come to
call."
I had forgotten that Lady Mary was staying at the house, and it made me
feel as if I were more superfluous than ever, for Vere would not need me
when she had her best friend at hand, and, somehow or other, Will Dudley
was just the last person in the world I wanted to see just then. There
was nothing for it, however; I had to go upstairs and stand the horrible
ordeal of being cross-questioned about my unexpected return.
"Don't tell me it is an outbreak of small-pox!" cried Lady Mary,
huddling back in her chair, and pretending to shudder at my approach.
"That's the worst of staying in a doctor's house--you simply court
infection! If it's anything interesting and becoming, you may kiss me
as usual, but if it's small-pox or mumps, I implore you to keep at the
other end of the room! I'm not sure that mumps wouldn't be the worse of
the two. I can't endure to look fat!"
"Has Lorna turned out a villain in disguise? Have you quarrelled and
bidden each other a tragic farewell?" asked Vere laughingly.
She looked thinner than ever, but her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes
as bright as stars. As for Will Dudley, he stared at the pattern of the
carpet, and his eyebrows twitched in the impatient way I know so well.
I think he saw that I was really in trouble, and was vexed with the
girls for teasing me.
"Thank you, everyone was quite well when I left. You need not be afraid
of infection, and Lorna is nicer than ever. We have certainly not
quarrelled."
"Then why this thusness?" asked Lady Mary, and Vere burst into a laugh.
"Scalps, Babs, scalps! I see it all! My mind misgave me as soon as I
heard of the fascinating Wallace. And was it really so serious that you
had to fly at a moment's notice?"
I simply got up and marched out of the room. It was too much to bear.
I sat in my own room all alone for over an hour, and hated everybody.
Oh, I _was_ miserable!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
_11 PM._
I have been thinking seriously over things, and have decided to put away
this diary, and not write in it any more for six months or a year. It
will be better so, for at present I am in such a wretched, unsettled
state of mind that what I write would not be edifying, but only painful
to read in time to come.
I've been reading over the first few pages to-night, and they seem
written by quite a different person--a happy, self-confident, complacent
Una, who felt perfectly satisfied of coming triumphantly through any and
every situation. This Una is a very crestfallen, humble-minded
creature, who knows she has failed, and dreads failing again; but I want
to be good, through it all I long to be good! O dear God, who loves me,
and understands, take pity on me, and show me the way!