GWEN.
"I expect that Gwen has been in one of her naughty moods," said Rachel,
as she passed the letter she had received from her mother to Luke when
they were at breakfast. "I was the only one who could do anything with
her."
"I see that she is coming instead of Sybil."
"Yes, and I am sure that is the reason. I shall love to have her."
"I think I shall be somewhat afraid of that young person," said Luke
with a laugh. "She is one of the independent kind I noticed at our
wedding."
"She is a darling, and I know you will love her. But I own that at
times she is an enfant terrible, one never knows what she is going to
say next. One thing, however, we may be sure of, she is absolutely
true, and says what she really thinks. You must prepare for the worst,"
she added, laughing, "and you must overlook her faults. I shall not
forgive you if you don't love her. To me she is a most fascinating
little thing."
And Gwen arrived the next day. She was a girl of fifteen, tall and
slim, not exactly pretty; but there was a charm about her that could
not be denied, and Rachel, as she met her at the station, could not
help hugging her. She was a bit of home, fresh and sweet; and carried
about with her the atmosphere of golden cornfields and scented hedges.
Rachel had not seen anything so fresh and full of life since leaving
home.
On the other hand Gwen had never seen anything like the darkness and
dirt of the town through which she was passing to Rachel's home. She
grew silent as they drove through the streets.
Rachel wondered what she was thinking of, and tried to distract her
attention by questions about her mother and sister; but only received
short answers and in an absent tone of voice.
At last they reached number 8 Wentworth Road.
"Is this it?" asked Gwen incredulously.
"Yes. It is not pretty, but I have tried to make it nice inside;
and have quite got to love it," answered Rachel. She was a little
distressed at Gwen's tone of voice.
When they had given directions to the cabman to leave the luggage a
few doors further up, Rachel took her sister over the house, and they
finally settled down by the drawing-room fire, as the evenings were
beginning to get chilly; though they had not begun fires, Rachel was
bent on having one on the day of Gwen's arrival.
Gwen drew her chair up almost into the fender, and then clasping her
hands behind her head said, "Now I will answer your questions properly
about home. I really couldn't do so in that awful cab and passing
through the town. What a place it is!"
"I suppose it strikes you as very uninviting, but I have got so used to
it that I hardly notice its deformities."
"Well it is time that someone should come and spy out the land," said
Gwen. "I am sure that Mother has no idea of your surroundings."
Rachel laughed.
"Well don't you go and make the worst of them to her," she said. "I
have purposely not enlarged on the subject, as I did not wish to worry
her. Besides, she would imagine that I was not happy, which would be
very far from the truth. I would far rather live in an ugly dirty town
with Luke than in the most beautiful country in the world without him.
When you are a little older, Gwen, you will understand that."
"No I shan't. No man in the world would make up to me for the country.
I should simply die if I had to live here," she added, looking round
the tiny room. "In fact I can't imagine a really unselfish man asking
such a sacrifice from the girl he loves best in all the world."
Rachel laughed merrily. Gwen had got on to her favourite theme, the
selfishness of men. She was always harping on that subject, Rachel
remembered, at Heathland.
"Well, let us leave that and tell me of home," she said, as she was
hungering for news. Then she suddenly drew Gwen's chair closer to her.
"You dear little thing," she said, smoothing her hair tenderly. "How
glad I am to have you. I'm afraid, however, that you have come because
you have been troublesome at home. Is that so?"
"I've come to spy out the land," answered Gwen with a mischievous
smile; "and it's high time."
"Don't be silly, tell me about Mother and Sybil."
"Mother is a dear and lovely as ever. I wish I had not made her cry
last week. I own I was horrid."
"Oh Gwen! You don't know what it is to be without Mother."
"I'm thankful I don't," said Gwen energetically. "If Mother had seen
this place before you married Luke she would never have let you come.
By-the-bye, I suppose that funny little creature that opened the door
for us is not Polly who you write about?"
"Yes, she is Polly. We are great friends."
"But she is not the only one?"
"Of course she is. Why you don't suppose this tiny house requires more
than one servant do you?"
"But that minute specimen cannot do all that is needed by herself."
"Of course not. I help her. Now don't be stupid Gwen; tell me some more
about home."
Gwen shut her mouth indicative of intense disapproval for a moment;
then she began to talk of Heathland; and Rachel listening, could almost
feel the wind blowing over the moors, and see the hedges just touched
with hoarfrost in the morning. She pictured her Mother walking about
the garden with her pretty soft shady hat which they all thought suited
her so well, or lying on the cane sofa in the verandah speaking to the
old gardener in her low musical voice. The vision of her was so vivid
that the tears rushed into Rachel's eyes, and would have fallen had
it not been for Gwen's presence. She was determined that the tiresome
child should not have any excuse for supposing she was not as happy as
a queen.
It was at supper that Luke met the 'young person' as he called her, and
had to confess to himself that he was more alarmed at her than she was
of him.
Gwen was afraid of no-one, specially of a mere man, as she had made up
her mind that they were a set of selfish human beings who needed to be
taught what was really required of them, and that one woman was worth
ten men; specially such a woman as Rachel whom she loved devotedly.
In fact the selfishness of Luke had chiefly consisted in her mind in
taking her favourite sister away from her. She knew little but that
about him, and though she had been sent away from home in order that
a change might help her to get rid of her very tiresome mood, she
preferred looking upon her visit to Rachel in the light of a spy.
Was Luke worthy of her? Had he made her comfortable? Did he look well
after her? These were the questions that she intended answering during
her visit, and taking the answer back to her mother and sister.
But she soon found that it would not do to make the object of her visit
too plain to Rachel, as the latter showed signs of being vexed; and
she might defeat her own plan. So when Luke came in to supper she was
on her best behaviour, though at times she could not prevent her lips
curling at one or two of his remarks. It seemed to her that he was
wrapped up in his own interests and noticed nothing else. She did not
realise the immense importance of his interests which were centred in
his work.
"We must try and give Gwen a little amusement," said Rachel next
morning before her sister arrived for breakfast, "or we shan't keep her
with us. Don't you think we could take her to the wood this afternoon?"
He told her by all means to go to Deasely Woods, but that he had work
which could not be neglected.
To be in the woods again with Gwen satisfied a longing of Rachel's
heart. They left the dullness and dirt of Trowsby behind them, and
wandered among the trees, treading on the soft carpet of fallen leaves
and inhaling the scent of the damp earth.
"How delicious," Rachel exclaimed.
"Do you often come here?" asked Gwen. She knew what the answer would be.
"No, Luke can't afford the time. You see the calls on his time are
endless in such a parish."
"Bother the parish!" said Gwen.
"No, no, you must not say that. I don't think you quite realise that
a clergyman's life is quite different to that of other people. You
would not approve of a doctor neglecting his patients for pleasure.
Well a clergyman is a physician of souls. And after all souls are more
important than bodies."
"I don't know anything about souls," said Gwen.
"Of course you do, don't talk nonsense."
"No, I don't. I don't think I am sure that we have souls. But I am not
peculiar in this. The papers and books are full of doubts of all sorts."
"But my dear child, why do you read such books? We want to build
ourselves up in our most holy faith, and not to read all the views on
the other side. How do you see these books?"
"I find them in the library. Sometimes I wish I had not read them, but
you know I read everything I can get hold of."
Rachel made up her mind to ask Luke to have a talk with Gwen. She was
very distressed at what she told her.
"Luke says that we must not be surprised at all the doubts and strange
theories that are about just now, as he believes we are living in the
last days and must expect the devil to be extra busy. I am sure he is
right."
"Don't let us talk of the last days," said Gwen, "but enjoy the country
while we have a chance. You must pine for it in that horrid place."
"I am too busy to think much about it," said Rachel, and she added,
"when I do I turn my thoughts to Luke, and feel how much I have to be
thankful for in having him."
Gwen laughed a little unbelievingly; and on returning to Trowsby, she
felt she could not endure more than a few days in it although her
favourite sister lived there. Of course she helped Rachel with the
household work, and made fun of it; but she hated it for all that, and
could not understand how Rachel could endure it after her life at home.
She studied Luke attentively and critically; nothing escaped her, and a
day or two before she left, he heard a knock at his study door and on
opening it found Gwen facing him.
"I want to talk about something very important," she said.
Luke was in the midst of writing a paper to be read at a clerical
meeting, and was sorry to be interrupted; but he invited her in with a
smile and drew up a chair for her. She seated herself and then looked
up at him gravely. He wondered what was coming. Gwen's expression of
face was severe.
"I suppose you know how unwell Rachel is," she began.
"Unwell?" said Luke startled.
"Yes, she is quite different to what she was at home. She has lost all
her spirits and looks. Do you mean to say you have not noticed?"
"No, certainly I have not," said Luke. "She is always very bright."
"That's just like a man," said Gwen scornfully. "They never notice when
their wives look ill. They are all alike. Rachel is working far too
hard, it will wear her out."
Luke rose greatly concerned and leant against the mantle piece looking
down at his severe young judge, anxiously.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Perfectly sure. She can't stand this life; having never been used
to it. It is all very well for girls who have been taught how to do
things. Some of them quite like it. But Rachel has never been taught
and it is killing her, slowly."
Luke leant his head on his hand which rested on the mantle piece and
fixed sad eyes on the girl. He was too perplexed and worried to speak.
"Rachel positively slaves for you," continued Gwen unmercifully, "but
you don't see or notice. Why only the other evening she carried a heavy
coal scuttle into the dining-room and you were so deep in your paper
that you never saw. You don't see or know half that goes on. But all
men are alike. Certainly from all I see of married life I never intend
to marry; if I do I am determined to be an old man's darling rather
than a young man's slave."
Worried as Luke was, he could not resist a smile, as the thought
crossed his mind that Gwen would probably never have the chance of
being either. He could not imagine any man falling in love with such an
audacious young person. His smile however quickly disappeared as Gwen
said:
"I suppose you love her still?"
"Love her!" He grew white and his eyes flashed so fiercely that Gwen
for a moment quailed.
"Child, you don't know what you are talking about," he said, and stood
looking at her with amazement and anger.
"Well you don't seem to. At home when you were engaged I now and then
intercepted glances between you that almost reconciled me to losing my
favourite sister, as I was assured by them that she was all the world
to you, and that you would take care of her. But now you scarcely seem
aware of her presence, and she might be a piece of furniture for all
the attention she gets. I can't think how she can bear it."
Had Luke not remembered his calling, and had he not been accustomed
to keep himself in check, he would have shaken the girl who had
constituted herself as his judge. As it was he went towards his writing
table and began arranging his papers, saying:
"I am sorry I cannot spare you any more time. When you are a little
older you will understand more of the meaning of love," he added
looking at her gravely, "that a man and his wife are so one that it is
perfectly unnecessary for them to remind each other of their existence
or of their love for one another. Happily for me Rachel understands and
absolutely trusts me."
Gwen rose.
"But that does not explain about the coal scuttle business," she said,
"I do hope Luke," she added, "that you will take care of her. She has
given up everything for you."
Luke held the door open for Gwen politely, and was silent. Then he
locked it after her and sitting down by his desk tried to write. But
he found this was impossible. He felt all on edge. How dared the child
talk as she did; but when his irritation had subsided the remembrance
of her words fell like lead on his heart. Was it a fact Rachel had lost
her spirits and that Gwen saw a real change in her since her marriage?
He began pacing up and down his study while a terrible anxiety weighed
upon his mind. Was she not happy? Did she regret the step she had
taken? And the fear that every now and then had attacked him as to the
rightfulness of taking her away from her happy home, gained ground.
He could laugh off the ridiculous fuss Gwen had made about the coal
scuttle. Of course he had been quite unaware of Rachel carrying the
heavy weight across the room. He was able so to concentrate his
attention on what he was reading that he seldom noticed what was
passing round about him, unless he was trying to solve some difficult
problem, when every sound disturbed him. But he was so used to reading
while Rachel moved about the room that he had noticed nothing till he
remembered Gwen had called out to him, "Luke, don't you see that Rachel
is carrying the scuttle?" when he had risen at once, but too late.
That it proved in the very least that he was not careful of her he
would not admit for a moment. Neither did he pay any heed to Gwen's
ridiculous fancy that because he was not always showing his devotion
to his wife by his glances, his affection had waned. These ideas did
not trouble him; but the fact that Gwen had noticed Rachel was looking
and had lost her spirits was quite another thing, and it worried him
exceedingly.
Meanwhile Gwen had gone into the drawing-room where she found Rachel
writing home. She turned round at the sound of her entrance.
"What have you been talking to Luke about?" she said a little
anxiously. "You have been a long time in the study."
"I have been giving him a lecture," answered Gwen, seating herself on a
low chair by the writing table.
"What?" exclaimed Rachel. She could hardly believe she heard aright.
"I have been giving him a lecture," repeated Gwen. "Husbands
occasionally need one."
"My dear child what do you mean?" said her sister laying down her pen.
"I had hoped you might have been having a nice helpful talk with him."
"Well, I hope it has been helpful to him."
"You sound as if you had been rather impertinent," said Rachel not
pleased. "What have you been saying?"
"All husbands are alike," answered Gwen. "They get nice girls to marry
them, taking them away from their homes, and no sooner have they got
them than they seem to forget their existence. I have been studying
husbands lately, that is to say since my friend Mabel married. Men are
fearfully selfish."
Rachel looked gravely at her sister.
"Gwen, I advise you to wait to give out your opinions till you are a
little older. You really talk like a very silly child. I hope if you
have been saying anything impertinent to Luke that you will apologise
to him before you are an hour older. I am quite horrified at you."
Rachel's face was flushed, and Gwen saw she was more angry with her
than she had ever been in her life. But she was not daunted. Here was
her favourite sister, whom she adored, tied for life to a man who was
engrossed in his parish and had no time whatever to think of her. She
felt boiling with rage.
"I certainly shall not apologise," she said, "it would take away any
little good my words may have done. I think I have come to spy out the
land none too soon, and that Luke will awake to see that what I have
said anyhow has some sense in it, and that he will not let you carry
the coal scuttle another time."
Rachel looking at Gwen's earnest and rather anxious face repented that
she had been so stern with her. After all she was only an ignorant
child. She could not expect an old head on young shoulders; besides,
Gwen was always putting her foot into it, talking of things about which
she really knew nothing. The family took her sayings for what they
were worth and laughed at them. She wished she had not taken her so
seriously.
But the fact was, that Rachel was conscious that Luke sometimes
surprised her by not doing what he would have done during their
courtship. He had been very chivalrous in those days, and more careful
of her than was necessary. Now he often let her do things for him which
he would in those days have done for her. At times the consciousness
of this had a little hurt her; he seemed to have lost, where she was
concerned, his old world courtesy. She remembered feeling ashamed when
Mrs. Stone had come to tea, that he had let her, his wife, do all the
waiting while he sat still and talked. He was so interested in his
conversation that he had never noticed it.
But these were such very little things after all, that Rachel had made
up her mind not to notice them. However, the fact that Gwen had noticed
them made her feel sore and somewhat indignant with her sister. But
glancing again at the child who had tears in her eyes at the thought
that Rachel was wasted on Luke, anger fled, and an amused smile took
its place.
"Oh Gwen dear," she said, "I wish you could see how ridiculous you are.
What do all those little things matter when people love one another
as Luke and I love? You see you are too young to understand. I really
advise you to put away your silly imaginations." She ended up with a
laugh.
"Well then," said Gwen, "I will give you advice, rather than Luke. Why
don't you teach him what to do?"
Rachel laughed out loud. "Don't be foolish," she said.
"I'm not foolish," said Gwen earnestly. "But I have read, and I think
it is probably true, that a woman can make a man what she wants him to
be."
"Explain yourself," said Rachel amused.
"I mean that you should teach him to remember that as a husband he is
bound to follow your wishes. Tell him, for instance, to fetch the coals
for you; to open the door when you have your hands full; and to hand
the tea about when you have people. I have noticed that Mrs. Graham,
who has one of the best of husbands, does this, and the consequence
is that he waits on her as if he were her slave. You know, Rachel, at
present you are Luke's slave."
"Well now you have done your lecture," said Rachel good-humouredly, "So
we'll go out, and I hope to hear no more of it; but I feel strongly
you ought to ask Luke's pardon for what must have struck him as great
impertinence."
"I shall do no such thing," said Gwen. "I think you will find that he
profits by my words."
But as Luke took her home as usual at night, leaving her at the door
of the house in which was her room, having talked to her as if nothing
had, happened, Gwen felt rather small. It did not look much as if he
had profitted or indeed remembered her lecture. This was decidedly
snubbing, but then Gwen was used to being snubbed.
[Illustration]