The next person to be told was Rowcliffe.
It was known in the village through the telegrams that Gwenda was
going away. The postmistress told Mrs. Gale, who told Mrs. Blenkiron.
These two persons and four or five others had known ever since Sunday
that the Vicar's daughter was going away; and the Vicar did not know
it yet.
And Mrs. Blenkiron told Rowcliffe on the Wednesday before Alice told
him.
For it was Alice who told him, and not Gwenda. Gwenda was not at home
when he called at the Vicarage at three o'clock. But he heard from
Alice that she would be back at four.
And it was Alice who told Mrs. Gale that when the doctor called again
he was to be shown into the study.
He had waited there thirteen minutes before Gwenda came to him.
He looked at her and was struck by a difference he found in her,
a difference that recalled some look in her face that he had seen
before. It was dead white, and in its whiteness her blue eyes, dark
and dilated, quivered with defiance and a sort of fear. She looked
older and at the same time younger, as young as Alice and as helpless
in her fear. Then he remembered that she had looked like that the
night she had passed him in the doorway of the house at Upthorne.
"How cold your hands are," he said.
She hid them behind her back as if they had betrayed her.
"Do you want to see me about Ally?"
"No, I don't want to see you about Ally. I want to see you about
yourself."
Her eyes quivered again.
"Won't you come into the drawing-room, then?"
"I'd rather stay here if you don't mind. I say, how much time have I?"
"Till when?"
"Well--till your father comes back?"
"He won't be back for another hour. But--"
"I hear you're going away on Friday; and that you're going for good."
"Did Mary tell you?"
"No. It was Alice. She said I was to try and stop you."
"You can't stop me if I want to go."
"I'll do my best."
They stood, as they talked, in rigid attitudes that suggested that
neither was going to yield an inch.
"Why didn't you tell me yourself, Gwenda?"
She closed her eyes. It was as if she had forgotten why.
"Was it because you knew I wouldn't let you? Did you want to go as
much as all that?"
"It looks like it, doesn't it?"
"Yes. But you don't want to go a bit."
"Would I go if I didn't?"
"Yes. It's just the sort of thing you would do, if you thought it
would annoy me. It's only what you've been doing for the last three
months--getting away from me."
"Three months--?"
"Oh, I cared for you before that. It's only the last three months I've
been trying to tell you."
"You never told me anything."
"Because you never gave me a chance. You kept on putting me off."
"And if I did, didn't that show that I didn't want you to tell me? I
don't want you to tell me now."
He made an impatient movement.
"But you knew without telling. You knew then."
"I didn't. I didn't."
"Well, then, you know now. Will you marry me or will you not? I want
it straight."
"No. No."
"And--why not?"
He was horribly cool and calm.
"Because I don't want to marry you. I don't want to marry anybody."
"Good God! What _do_ you want, then?"
"I want to go away and earn my own living as other women do."
The absurdity of it melted him. He could have gone down on his knees
at her feet and kissed her cold hands. He wondered afterward why on
earth he hadn't. Then he remembered that all the time she had kept her
hands locked behind her.
"You poor child, you don't want to earn your own living. I'll tell you
what you _do_ want. You want to get away from home."
"And what if I do? You've seen what it's like. Would _you_ stay in it
a day longer than you could help if you were me?"
"Of course I wouldn't. Of course I've seen what it's like. I saw it
the first time I saw you here in this detestable house. I want to take
you away out of it. I think I wanted to take you away then."
"Oh, no. Not then. Not so long ago as that."
It was as if she had said, "Not that. That makes it too hard. Any
cruelty you like but that, or I can't go through with it."
"Yes," he said, "as long ago as that."
"You can't take me away."
"Can't I? I can take you anywhere. And I will. Anywhere you like.
You've only got to say. I _know_ I can make you happy."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know you."
"That's what you're always saying. And you know nothing about me.
Nothing. Nothing."