When Peggy was dressing for dinner that evening a knock came to her
door, and Arthur's voice demanded entrance. She flew to meet him, and
felt her spirits go up at a bound at the sight of his smile.
"Have you come to say you have forgiven me?" she asked, linking her arm
in his, and shaking back the mane of hair which fell over the white
dressing-gown. "I am so thankful to see you, for I am appallingly
hungry, and yet to eat a crumb while you were still angry with me, would
have been a moral impossibility. I did not know how to get through
dinner."
"Angry! When was I angry? I was never angry with you, Peggy kins, that
I know of!"
"Oh, Arthur! This very afternoon. A most lacerating glance. It cut
into me like knives."
Arthur laughed; a short, half-hearted laugh which ended in a sigh.
"Oh, is that all? I was annoyed for a moment, but it seems a small
cause for so much emotion. Can't you bear even a glance of disapproval,
young lady?"
"No, I can't! Not from people I love, for I do love them so badly, that
there's no peace or comfort for me unless they are pleased with me in
return. I am not blaming you, dear, but it was the first time, you see,
that you have ever taken part against me."
"Ah, well, it won't happen again; it's the last time as well as the
first!" sighed Arthur wearily. "I came to tell you, Peg, that Rosalind
and I have come to a definite understanding. You knew so much that it
is only fair that you should know the whole. You will soon be asked to
congratulate her on her engagement to Lord Everscourt."
Peggy marched to the other end of the room, aimed a deliberate blow at
an unoffending wicker work-table and hurled it to the ground. She
glared with an expression of savage satisfaction at the miscellaneous
articles scattered broadcast over the floor, curled her lips scornfully
at her own reflection in the glass, and finally walked back to Arthur's
side, and exclaimed in a tragic voice:
"I knew it! I knew it was coming! She affected to ask my advice, but I
told her it was waste of time, as she had really made up her mind what
she meant to do. Then she began to cry, and said I was cruel, and went
away with you so willingly that I thought perhaps, after all, I had
judged too quickly, for she _does_ care for you, Arthur, I know she
does! She could not deny that, I suppose?"
"No, she did not deny it. She loves me in her own way, but it's not my
way, Peg--or yours! She would have been happy with me if I had been
rich, but she is not prepared to make any sacrifices on my account, and
would rather give me up than live a quiet, restricted life. She does
not even understand how much she is losing, poor girl, or how little
satisfaction she will get in return!"
Peggy set her lips tightly.
"No, she does not understand, and that makes one sorry for her, for she
misses just the best thing in life. I used to think when I was a child
that the thing I wanted most was for people to love me--not in an
ordinary, calm, matter-of-fact sort of way, you know, but to love me
_frightfully_, and care for me more than any one else in the world! I
used to put myself to any amount of trouble to be agreeable, for even if
I did not care for a person myself, it worried me to death if that
person were not devoted to me! There were thirty-six girls at school
besides the governesses, so you may imagine how exhausting it was to be
nice to them all. Well, I've come to the conclusion that it's a
mistake. It's sweet to be loved, but it's ever so much sweeter to love.
It is so inspiring to forget all about one's tiresome little self, and
care more for somebody else. When I love people, I feel," Peggy threw
back her head and expanded her little shoulders with a terrific breath,
"_omnipotent_! There is nothing I could not _be_ or _do_ or suffer to
help them. The more they need from me the happier I am. Don't you know
how you feel after listening to a beautiful sermon--that you really wish
something disagreeable would happen, to give you an opportunity of
behaving well and being sweet and unselfish? Well, that's just how one
feels in a lesser way to the people one loves on earth. It's how I feel
to you at this moment, Arthur darling, when I know you are suffering. I
wish I could take all the misery and bear it for you. Is your heart
quite broken, you dear old lad?"
"No, Peg, it is not. I feel miserable enough, but I don't delude myself
that I have received a life-long wound. It has been a dream, you know,
a schoolboy's dream, but I always realised that the princess was not for
me. She is so lovely that one's heart goes out to her instinctively,
but it never seemed possible to think of her as a part of my work-a-day
life. It's dreary work walking in the cold grey light and realising
that the dream is over, but I shall pull myself together as time goes
on, and make the best of what remains."
"You will be surprised to discover how much that is! There are many
people left who love you and long to make you happy, and in time to come
you will be thankful that things are arranged as they are. There are
dozens of other girls who are far better worth winning--"
"But I don't happen to want them! That makes all the difference!"
sighed Arthur sadly. "Ah, Peg, it is easy to be philosophical for
another person. I could offer volumes of common-sense consolations to
another fellow in my position, but they fall very flat when it comes to
one's own turn. It is impossible to judge for another person."
"Yet onlookers see most of the game, and no one could know you and
Rosalind, and not feel that you were a thousand times too good for her!
Think of mother! Think of Mrs Asplin! Compare her with them, and you
will see how different she is. I can quite understand your feelings,
for she fascinated me, too, and, however stern I mean to be, I have to
give in when she takes the trouble to smile upon me; but one wants
something more than pretty ways, and she would have disappointed you,
Arthur, I know she would! You would have found her empty-headed and
unsympathetic just where you needed sympathy most."
"Ah, well, well, we won't discuss her any more. It is not our business.
If you want to please me, Peg, you will be as friendly as possible when
you meet. She will have her own troubles to bear, poor girl, and it
will be all the easier for you, since you believe that I have had a
fortunate escape."
He tried to smile, but it was an unsuccessful attempt, and Peggy
realised that the wound was as yet too fresh to bear handling. The time
would come when Arthur would be ready to receive consolation, but now it
was easy to see that depreciation of Rosalind's character only added to
his distress. He did not attempt to contradict his sister's statements,
but no doubt the fact that he was unable to do so was the bitterest drop
in his cup. Peggy clasped her arms round his arm and looked into his
face with wistful eyes.
"Oh, Arthur, I wonder why it is that the two things which you have cared
for most in your life have both been denied to you? You wanted two
things--just two--and they have both ended in disappointment! If you
had been wilful and selfish, it would have been different, but you never
were that. You worked hard, and thought of other people before
yourself, and still nothing has gone right! How is it? Why is it? Why
should it be?"
Arthur shook his head sadly.
"I don't know, Peg. My luck, I suppose," he replied in a tone so
dejected that it brought the tears to his sister's eyes.
"No, it is not your luck," she contradicted quickly. "I know what it
is--it has just come to me this minute. It is because God has better
things waiting for you! It is all rough and miserable just now, but
further along the path it will get beautiful again. Oh, I believe it
will be very beautiful; and when you get there, Arthur, you will be
thankful that you went on, and did not stop half-way."
"Dear little Peg," he said fondly, "I hope I shall. It's a cheery
thought, and I'll adopt it forthwith, and try to look ahead, not
backwards, and you must do the same. No more tears, please! You must
help me by being bright and talking persistently of some thing else.
And now I must go, or you will never be ready for that dinner you want
so badly. I'm wery hungry myself, so please don't keep us waiting."
He hurried out of the room, leaving Peggy to continue her hairdressing
operations with a tear trickling slowly over her cheek, and a
speculative expression in her eye.
Hungry? But he had no business to be hungry! Never in the course of
her readings had she come across the case of a rejected lover openly
avowing an impatience for dinner, and, despite her anxiety for her
brother's happiness, Peggy could not subdue a certain regret that he
should have showed such a painful inconsistency in the performance of
his part!
The next day brought the visit to London to a conclusion, but Peggy said
her adieux with the pleasant expectation of meeting her friends again
before many weeks were over. When Parliament rose, Arthur would be
free, and had agreed all the more willingly to come down to Yew Hedge,
as Rosalind and her father would at that time be visiting Lady Darcy in
Switzerland. An invitation to Eunice for the same time had also been
eagerly accepted, and Peggy was full of rose-coloured schemes for the
amusement of her guests.
"Picture to yourself, my dear," she cried tragically, "that never yet
have I had the pleasure of entertaining a friend in my own domain! I
don't know if you will enjoy yourself, but I am sure that I shall. I
have views on the subject of hospitality, and am anxious to test them.
So I shall treat you like a puppet, and play all sorts of experiments on
you to try the effect. I should wish you to feel tired sometimes in the
morning, and stay in bed to breakfast, so that I could wait upon you,
and to be too lazy to dress yourself now and again, so that I could
arrange your hair in different styles. If you could manage to be a
little ill, it would be charming, for then I could nurse you and be
severe about your diet, but if you keep wen, we will make the best of
it, and entertain the neighbourhood. I'll set to work at once to plan
something original and startling."
"Oh, do!" cried Eunice eagerly. "I'd love to be startled. I shall look
forward to coming every single day until the time arrives, and be the
most obedient of puppets. You are a dear, Peggy--I _do_ love you! I'm
so grateful to you for being kind to me."
"It's my nature, dear. Go on deserving it. Three remarks at least I
insist upon at every meal, and if you could increase the number to six,
I should be correspondingly gratified. Don't stare at the carpet, don't
look frightened when there is nothing to be frightened at, and look
after my beloved brother for my sake. Those are my last instructions
for your guidance. Arthur feels lonely sometimes, just as you do, and
it would help you both if you would talk to him sometimes, or, still
better, let him talk to you. Men, my dear," sighed Miss Peggy with an
air of experience, "men like nothing better than to talk of themselves
with a woman as audience. Ask questions about his work, his plans, his
thoughts, and he will go on talking happily, so long as you will sit and
listen to him. You could do that, at least, if you could not talk
yourself."
"Oh yes, easily. I'd like it. I love to hear him talk," assented
Eunice naively. She fixed her soft shy eyes upon Peggy's face as she
spoke, and that young lady felt that she had shown her usual shrewdness
in suggesting such an arrangement, for a sweeter _confidante_ it would
have been difficult to find, or one more ready with sympathetic
interest.
With her usual tactfulness Eunice declined to accompany Peggy to the
station, so that her presence should put no check upon the last
conversation between brother and sister, but no reference was made on
either side to the event of two days before. Arthur seemed anxious to
talk on impersonal subjects, so they discussed the old friends and their
doings--Esther and her theories, Mellicent and her romances, and sent
affectionate memories after the two absentees, Rex working his uphill
way in the world, and Oswald in his luxurious home. It was always a
happy task to recall bygone days, and the "Do you remember?" filled up
the conversation until the last moment arrived, and Peggy leant out of
the carriage window looking down upon Arthur with an anxious scrutiny.
The dear face looked worn and thin, and the forehead showed a couple of
lines which she had never seen before.
"Oh, Arthur, I wish I were staying longer, or that you were coming home
with me!" she cried impetuously. "I can't bear leaving you alone just
now. You need to be petted and coddled and made a fuss of, you dear old
boy, and I am desolated that I can't do it! What is the use of having a
sister, if she can't do anything for you when you are in trouble?"
"She has done a great deal for me already, and is such a sympathetic
person, Peg, that I am afraid she would spoil me altogether if she had
her way! It's just as well that we have to be separated for a time, for
the less I think of myself the better. It can do no good, and only
unfit me for work. I'm going to set my teeth and begin afresh.
Consolation prohibited, my dear, but hints for support and occupation
thankfully received!"
And then had Peggy an inspiration! A flash of mischievous enjoyment lit
up the hazel eyes, but before Arthur had time to discover it, it had
disappeared and been replaced by an innocent little smile.
"You might do a good turn to Eunice by cheering her up after my loss!
It would be beneficial for you to make the effort, and the Rollos would
be grateful. It is not easy to make her talk, but you would find it
worth the effort, for she has sweet thoughts, and--on occasion--a pretty
little wit of her own!"
"On somewhat rare occasions, I should say," replied Arthur, smiling; but
all the same he looked pleased at the suggestion, and the smile lingered
on his lips, as at some pleasant remembrance.
When the whistle sounded and the train began to move onwards, he waved
his hand and nodded a cheery assent.
"Right, Peg! For the credit of the family, your pupil shall not be
allowed to fall back into her old ways. I'll do my duty towards her."
"Mind you do!" cried Peggy, and flopped down on her seat with a soft
explosion of laughter. "Ha! ha!" she cried aloud. "Ha! ha!" and
flourished her magazine in triumph.
The next moment she became aware that an old lady seated in the opposite
corner was regarding her with glances of apprehension, and stealthily
fumbling for her umbrella as a possible means of defence.
"She thinks I am mad!" quoth Miss Peggy to herself, "How truly
gratifying! I must foster the delusion." She turned her magazine
ostentatiously upside down, smiled vacantly at the pictures, and
feigning to fall asleep, watched beneath her eyelashes the compassionate
glances with which she was regarded, shaking the while with inward
laughter!