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diff --git a/75836-h/75836-h.htm b/75836-h/75836-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ebdc5a4 --- /dev/null +++ b/75836-h/75836-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15038 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> + +<head> + +<link rel="icon" href="images/img-cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + +<meta charset="utf-8"> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Six Mrs Greenes, by Lorna Rea +</title> + +<style> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 1.5em } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 2em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +.smcap { font-variant: small-caps } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75836 ***</div> + +<h1> +<br><br> + SIX<br> + MRS GREENES<br> +</h1> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> + By<br> + LORNA REA<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> + LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN LTD<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>First published March,</i> 1929<br> +</p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>New Impressions April</i> (3 <i>times</i>), <i>May, June, July,</i> 1929<br> +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t4"> + <i>Printed in Great Britain at the<br> + Windmill Press, Kingswood, Surrey</i><br> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +TO PHILIP RUSSELL REA +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +FOREWORD +</p> + +<p> +The fact that I belong to a family genealogically +resembling the Greene family suggested +to me the scheme of this book. +</p> + +<p> +Apart from this similarity all the characters +in "Six Mrs. Greenes" are entirely fictional. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +L. R. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<pre style="margin-left: 10%; font-family: Courier New; font-size: 10pt"> + WILLIAM GREENE-+-LAVINIA FORSTER + (1808-1875) | + | + +----------+---------------+ + | | + GEOFFREY----+-MARGARET HILL HUGH--SARAH DODDS + (1848-1924) | (1850-1920) + | + +---------+-------------------------+ + | | + RODNEY----+-EDITH BECKETT EDWIN--DORA PILKINGTON + (b. 1874) | (1875-1915) | + | | + +------+-------------+----+ | + | | | | + GEOFFREY--HELEN GUEST | HUGH--JESSICA DEANE EDWIN + (b. 1901) | (b. 1904) (1904-1917) + | + LAVINIA--MARTIN PEILE + (b. 1903) + | + | + MARTIN + (b. 1924) +</pre> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +CONTENTS +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I <a href="#chap01">MRS GREENE</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +II <a href="#chap02">MRS HUGH GREENE</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +III <a href="#chap03">MRS RODNEY GREENE</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +IV <a href="#chap04">MRS EDWIN GREENE</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +V <a href="#chap05">MRS GEOFFREY H. GREENE</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +VI <a href="#chap06">MRS HUGH BECKETT GREENE</a> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +VII <a href="#chap07">ET CETERA</a> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS GREENE +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +SIX MRS GREENES +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<h3> +MRS. GREENE +</h3> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +Old Mrs. Greene was very tired. +</p> + +<p> +When she was tired she talked to herself, and +her talk was a jumble of names. Her sons, her +grandsons, her granddaughter, her granddaughter's +husband, jigged about in her brain. +They formed groups, advanced towards her in +a solid phalanx, broke up and receded again. +The pattern of their comings and goings was +shot with pleasure at some remembered incident, +or again with intense irritation that found +vent in mumbled phrases. "She's always been a +stupid woman." +</p> + +<p> +"What did you say, Mrs. Greene?" asked +Miss Dorset, a quiet, pleasant young woman +who acted as her housekeeper and companion. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't," said Mrs. Greene, annoyed at +being interrupted in that restless uncontrollable +reverie which was all that remained to her of +thought, but the innumerable little lines on her +old cheeks smoothed into tranquillity as a +sudden recollection of her granddaughter's last +visit established itself momentarily in her mind. +Lavinia had been very sweet and so pretty. That +scarlet frock had seemed to darken her eyes and +whiten her skin; even her hair shone as she sat on +a footstool after dinner in front of the fire, her +hands clasped round her knees, and talked about +Martin endlessly, glowingly; about the two +Martins, her husband and her son. A happy child +Lavinia; Martin, a satisfactory grandson-in-law, +and Martin, the little great-grandson, a pleasant +thing to think about. Why was it that Lavinia's +husband had not been able to come for the week-end +with Lavinia? Mrs. Greene groped in her +mind for the reason and then stumbled on it +suddenly as one of the things Lavinia had spoken +about with pride. Martin had been asked to go +North to represent the firm on business. He had +to interview two clients and persuade them to +carry through an important deal, and it was a +matter for congratulation that the negotiations +had been entrusted to him. +</p> + +<p> +Old Mrs. Greene pondered. The beginnings +of life, how terrible they were; each action, +even the most impulsive and ill-considered, +marching steadily on towards its inevitable +result, and eliminating logically the possibility of +any other result. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment, looking back, she saw her life +move down its long determined track, marked +erratically here and there by emotions, incidents +and circumstances: her passionate love for +Geoffrey, her husband; her passionate maternal love +for Rodney and Edwin; the death of her father; +her sons' marriages; her husband's sudden and +widespread literary recognition; Edwin's death, +and then her husband's death followed +immediately by the birth of Lavinia's son, her only +great-grandchild. She looked down at her thin +old hands with the loose rings slipping up the +fingers, and thought with clear lucidity: what +changes are wrought by the alchemy of years +in this poor human stuff. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately her age, her weariness, her +thousand bodily discomforts, crowded into the +present and engulfed the past. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Dorset," she said querulously, "help +me to bed, Miss Dorset, I'm tired." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +When a hen's life is ended by the chopper the +severed head falls to the ground, but the body +with spattered wings awkwardly outstretched +steps erratically this way and that, watched from +the ground by its own surprised eyes until its +ultimate surrender to the laws of death and +gravity. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset fifteen years ago had suffered +and lived through a kindred mutilation, being +forced to watch from the edge of a cliff her +twin sister and only relative drowning a +hundred yards from the shore. Mary Dorset had +gone bathing, Clara Dorset had gone walking. +Mary took cramp, struggled a little, and sank, +while Clara on the top of the cliff darted a few +steps to the right, a few to the left, screaming, +and finally fell to the ground, overborne by the +shocking realisation of her loss and of her utter +impotence to have prevented it. +</p> + +<p> +Since then Miss Dorset, always competent, +always adequate, had been curiously incomplete. +Anæsthetized by this early tragedy she +was invulnerable to further suffering, impervious +to the pinpricks of poverty and dependence, +and utterly unmoved in the face of any +difficulty or crisis. Sometimes at night between +waking and sleeping, or in the early morning +between sleeping and waking, she was stabbed +by a poignant vision of that scene of fifteen years +ago, but no trace of emotion showed, as a rule, +in her quiet manner of life. +</p> + +<p> +She had lived with Mrs. Greene for seven +years, at first as housekeeper and secretary. +Since Mr. Greene's death, however, which had +occurred suddenly three years ago, her role had +been much more comprehensive. She managed +the household, prepared for visitors, welcoming +them unobtrusively on their arrival, and +discreetly beckoning one guest out as she +shepherded another in, lest the fatigue of prolonged +conversation should lead to a restless night for +the old lady. But she was also Mrs. Greene's +constant companion, on her walks, in the house +and at meals; there were indeed few moments +in the day when she could contrive to be alone. +</p> + +<p> +The measured routine of life was rarely +broken in its succession of small daily services +and arrangements, but when any of the grandchildren +came for a visit Miss Dorset showed a +natural grace not only in her methods of +self-effacement but in leaving undone those trivial +duties which, carried out by Geoffrey, Lavinia +or Hugh, became a source of pleasure to +Mrs. Greene. "Give me a cushion, Geoffrey, and +arrange my shawl," she would say; and when +Geoffrey had fumbled the cushion into place +Miss Dorset, fully conscious of the fact that he +had not added to Mrs. Greene's comfort, nevertheless +appreciated the pleasure that it had given +her to be waited on by her grandson. +</p> + +<p> +There was a genuinely comfortable relationship +between Mrs. Greene and Miss Dorset: +Mrs. Greene seldom resented the fact of her +physical dependence on Miss Dorset, and Miss +Dorset understood, too well to be wounded by +any sharpness of tongue, the old woman's +kindliness, sagacity and clear sightedness. +</p> + +<p> +At 9.15 every morning Miss Dorset brought +up the letters, and waited quietly by the bedside, +watching the unsteady fingers tearing open the +envelopes and slowly withdrawing the rustling +sheets. It would have been easy to offer help, +but Miss Dorset was infinitely patient. +"Mrs. Greene likes to do little things for herself," +she would explain. "It takes a few moments +longer, but she has a great deal of leisure, you +know." And Helen—it was generally Helen who +expostulated at delay, and was ready with her +facile, "Let me do it, Granny,"—must needs +restrain herself and watch the number of laborious +trembling movements that were necessary +to perform any simple action. +</p> + +<p> +This morning Miss Dorset remembering +Mrs. Greene's extreme fatigue on the previous +night, looked anxiously at her face as she took +the letters, but made no comment. Mrs. Greene, +however, answered the unspoken question, "I +had a good night, thank you, and I'm not tired +to-day." +</p> + +<p> +She laid a hand on Miss Dorset's arm and +added: "You're a nice restful creature to have +about." +</p> + +<p> +A deep, unbecoming flush spread over Miss +Dorset's sallowness at the unusual tribute, but +she only said quietly: "Thank you, I'm very +happy here with you," and then waited with +folded hands for any news or instructions to be +imparted to her. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long time before Mrs. Greene leaned +back on her pillow and allowed a neat and +closely written letter to slip from her fingers +on to the bed. She was worrying. A thousand +tiny lines creased her forehead, and she pushed +back her scanty white hair with a gesture +reminiscent of the days when heavy dark wings +smooth and shining like Lavinia's, had swept +down from her middle parting to cover the ears +that now jutted out like excrescences on her +shrunken skull. +</p> + +<p> +"It's not a good idea," she said with an +unusual tremor in her voice. "It's a sentimental +idea and the children don't hold with sentiment +and anniversaries and such like, and it will be +very difficult for me. In fact if Edith weren't +so set on it, I wouldn't think of going, but you +know how my daughter-in-law must always +have her way." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it a letter from Mrs. Rodney that is +worrying you?" asked Miss Dorset. +</p> + +<p> +"I told you it was," answered Mrs. Greene. +"Here, you'd better read it." +</p> + +<p> +She picked up the letter and handed it to Miss +Dorset. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + 207, Sussex Square.<br> + Nov. 9th.<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +My dear Mrs. Greene, +</p> + +<p> +Rodney and I were delighted to hear from +Lavinia that you were so well and in such +good spirits when she saw you at the +weekend. We have been hoping to come and see +you for the last few weeks, but Rodney has +been very busy, and I have had a great deal on +my hands since the wedding. I've been supervising +Hugh's and Jessica's house being got +ready for them among other things. They come +home on Tuesday evidently very happy, and +quite sure that no couple ever had a honeymoon +like theirs. I have a little plan for +them which I do hope you will try and fall +in with, as it will be no good at all without +you. Aunt Sarah is to be in town next week +I hear, staying with her own relations, and I +think it would be such a good idea if you +would come up for one night for a little +dinner party. Just the family of course. +</p> + +<p> +Do you realise that there are now six +Mrs. Greenes? You and Aunt Sarah, Dora and +myself, and the two children, Helen and +Jessica. I think Friday week would be best. +Rodney will come himself to fetch you in the +car, and you can have a long rest before +dinner, and motor home on Saturday. Now +don't say no, I have really set my heart on +having a reunion of the three generations. +</p> + +<p> +Rodney sends his love and is hoping to see +you. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Much love from<br> + EDITH.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset read this through carefully, +reflected for a moment and then said decisively: +"I don't think it would be wise for you to go, +Mrs. Greene; you've been very easily tired the +last few weeks, and this time of year is trying. +Will you not dictate a letter for Mrs. Rodney +saying you don't feel able to accept her invitation?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't call that an invitation," said Mrs. +Greene forcibly. "More like a command. My +daughter-in-law arranges everything for +everybody and sends them their instructions." +</p> + +<p> +Her voice lost its vibration and dropped on a +flat note as she added: "It's easier to fall in with +her plans, than to hold out against them; I'm +getting old. And perhaps it will please Rodney +to have me in his house again, though it's more +hers than his." +</p> + +<p> +A long silence fell. Miss Dorset had no +comment to offer and Mrs. Greene was obviously +immersed in painful thoughts. Suddenly she +roused herself and leaned forward, speaking +with such calmness and certainty that her words +borrowed the force of oratory. +</p> + +<p> +"When a woman has lived with her husband +and loved her husband for over fifty years, she +shouldn't live on after him. She's only a cripple. +There's no place left for her, and no power. I +saw one of my sons marry a girl I didn't like, +and the other a girl I despised. I lost Edwin in +the War, and Edwin's son soon after. Geoffrey +and I were old; we were on the shelf, but we +still had our place in life. Now Geoffrey's dead +and I'm lost. I'm Granny and Greatgranny; +I'm an old woman to be humoured and treated +kindly and encouraged and taken here and there +for her own good, but I'm not Mrs. Geoffrey +Greene. She's dead." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene had spoken with long pauses +between the sentences. When she had finished +she closed her eyes and sat upright and motionless, +drained of colour, teeth and hair assailed +by the greedy years, but with the lovely +structure of jaw and cheekbone more visible under +the sagging skin than it had ever been under +firm flesh. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you should let Mrs. Rodney's +letter depress you," hazarded Miss Dorset at +last. "If you decide to go I know both she and +Mr. Rodney will make all arrangements for +your comfort." +</p> + +<p> +"Everybody makes arrangements for my +comfort," said Mrs. Greene harshly. "And nobody +can achieve it for me." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke with her eyes still shut, and there +was bitter resignation in the line of her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"We do try," ventured Miss Dorset gently. +At the sound of her troubled voice Mrs. Greene +lifted her lids and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"I know you do," she said, and her voice had +regained its ring. "I'm an ungrateful, +cantankerous old woman, and I may last like this for +years." +</p> + +<p> +The crudity of the last sentence was the signal +for Miss Dorset to change the subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you like to get up now?" she asked. +"You have a nice full day before you: it's so +sunny this morning that I think a little walk +will do you good, and then you remember +Mrs. Hugh is coming for to-night on her way up to +town. She arrives at 4.15, and I've ordered the +car to meet her." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd forgotten Sarah was coming to-day," +said Mrs. Greene. "I'll be glad to see her. I +wonder if she has heard from Edith; she'll be +no more pleased than I am about this ridiculous +party." +</p> + +<p> +All her good humour came back at the malicious +and delightful thought of imparting the +unwelcome news to her sister-in-law and +discussing with her the unreasonableness of such a +plan. +</p> + +<p> +"Sarah will see that it's a bad idea," she +repeated confidently. "There'll we be, three widows +and three wives, each of us supposed to stand +for something, and the whole idea quite false. +I'm not an old Greene grandmother any more +than Edith is a Greene mother and Jessica a +young Greene wife; I'm Margaret Hill, and +Jessica is Jessica Deane, and we married men of +the same name and the same blood, but nobody +but Edith would ever expect that to link us up in +a chain." +</p> + +<p> +"I know you will enjoy a talk with Mrs. Hugh," +said Miss Dorset. "Shall I put her in +the usual room, or do you think she likes the +view from the front better? It isn't such a good +room, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"Put her in the front room. Sarah is like me; +she likes to look out on a good view and a wide +space, and so long as the bed is comfortable she +won't notice anything else. And now help me +up, please." +</p> + +<p> +The business of getting Mrs. Greene dressed +for the day was exhausting both for her and for +Miss Dorset, but there were few days in +the year when her indomitable courage and +vitality allowed her to lie abed and forgo the +effort for twenty-four hours. The irritation +involved in thrusting out each leg to have its +stocking drawn on was so intense as to amount +to pain; her back ached and her skin tingled. +It was infinite weariness to get her arms into +her sleeves and keep her head steady to have +her hair done, but Mrs. Greene faced these +ordeals with fortitude and equanimity. +</p> + +<p> +Every morning the indignity of physical +helplessness struck her afresh, but every morning +she banished the thought with resolution and +ignored in conversation the difficulties of her +toilet. Her good humour never failed her here, +and Miss Dorset was too well versed in the +intricacies of her employer's code of reticence +ever to provoke her by an allusion to the matter +in hand. +</p> + +<p> +Usually during that painful three quarters of +an hour they discussed the news of the day which +both had absorbed during breakfast, Mrs. Greene +with genuine interest in current activities, +Miss Dorset uninterested, except in so far +as they provided a topic of discussion attractive +to Mrs. Greene. Mrs. Rodney's letter, +however, altered the trend of Mrs. Greene's +conversation for this one morning. +</p> + +<p> +"What dress have I got to wear at my +daughter-in-law's dinner?" she asked crisply. +"I won't wear black and I think my grey satin +is getting shabby." +</p> + +<p> +"I think perhaps it is a little," agreed Miss +Dorset. "But it always looks very nice." +</p> + +<p> +"Shabby and nice don't go together," was the +uncompromising reply. "We'll write to Madame +Fenella to-day and ask her to send down a fitter +with some patterns of grey satin and brocade. +I'll wear my diamond necklace, and grey is a +good background. You know, Miss Dorset, I've +always liked nice dresses." +</p> + +<p> +"I know you have, Mrs. Greene; all your +things have been beautiful as long as I've known +you." +</p> + +<p> +"But it was before you knew me that I had +my best things," said Mrs. Greene staring into +the mirror, but not seeing the face ragged with +age reflected in it. Seeing herself instead forty, +fifty and sixty years ago when she was ardent +and lovely. +</p> + +<p> +"There was a sea-green poplin," she said +dreamily. "A silk poplin that Geoffrey liked +very much. That was the summer when Edwin +was ten; I remember going up in it to kiss him +good-night. And before that there was a blue +velvet, peacock blue we called it, with a tight +bodice and a flounced skirt all drawn to the back. +But when I was a girl, before I married, it was +always white. I remember asking my mother +for a red evening dress but she wouldn't hear +of it, so I didn't get one till long after I +married—and then it didn't suit me." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene smiled, thinking of the red +dress that had been a failure, and then went on +musingly: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know why it didn't suit me; Lavinia +is very like what I was at her age, and she looks +so pretty in red; but Godfrey liked me best in +green and blue, and I used to dress to please +him." +</p> + +<p> +"I think you always look very nice in grey, +and of course, as you say, it's a lovely +background for your jewels," said Miss Dorset, +whose sole conversational aim was to direct +Mrs. Greene down pleasant paths and by-ways and +prevent if possible any comparison between the +empty present and the rich past. +</p> + +<p> +On this occasion she was fortunate. An +expression of real pleasure lit up Mrs. Greene's +faded eyes. She spoke with assurance. +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Miss Dorset, it's a long time +since I wore my diamond necklace; in fact it's a +long time since I went over my jewels at all. I +think with the party coming off I'd really better +look through them." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure it would be a good plan," agreed +Miss Dorset. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well then, we'll go out now; I'm ready +am I not? And this afternoon you'll open the +safe and I'll go over all my things. Geoffrey did +love to give me jewels. You know I used to be +very dark, and he always thought them very +becoming to me." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll be quite busy then," said Miss +Dorset, relieved to think that the day promised +to be a full and interesting one for Mrs. Greene; +for once in a way there was a definite little plan +for each of the yawning intervals between +meals. +</p> + +<p> +To Miss Dorset each day presented itself as +a problem in four sections: in each section some +trivial interest or occupation had to be provided +for old Mrs. Greene, whose mental outlook, +through still vivid, could not avoid being +impinged upon by her physical limitations. There +was the long interval between getting dressed +and lunch time which could only be comfortably +filled by a walk. Miss Dorset registered an +aggrieved resentment against Providence for +any lapse from fine weather conditions between +11 a.m. and 1 p.m. Subconsciously she felt that +it was Mrs. Greene's prerogative to enjoy the +sun for these two hours. +</p> + +<p> +The shorter interval between lunch and tea +was partially filled by a rest, and often by +preparations for some visitor who was coming to +tea, and whose visit involved for her punctilious +hostess a change of dress and shawl. +</p> + +<p> +The hour after tea was often a difficult and +irritable time, particularly in winter when the +heavy curtains had to be drawn early and +Mrs. Greene could not sit at her drawing-room +window, gazing over the fields to the little larch +wood that darkened and thickened as light faded +out of the sky, and then magically thinned +again till each twig was separate and visible in +the clear darkness. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes there was a library list to be made, +or a parcel of library books to be opened, and to +Miss Dorset at least, it was a matter of signal +importance that the second post arrived at +5 o'clock. It might contain letters that would +keep Mrs. Greene occupied for half an +hour. +</p> + +<p> +There was always Patience, of course, but +there were few days when this proved to be +anything but a dreary makeshift. Mrs. Greene +would lay out the cards, idly pick up the kings +and queens, turn them about as if the designs +were new to her and forget what Patience she +had embarked on. Even Miss Dorset's nervous +system was not proof against the strain of +watching her try to play "Monte Carlo" with cards +arranged for "Demon." +</p> + +<p> +After dinner was a blessedly short period, +and generally a happy one. +</p> + +<p> +Summer and winter alike Mrs. Greene would +come through from the dining-room in a mood +of tranquil acquiescence; content either to dream +by the open window with the scent of stocks +from the flower beds and hay from the meadows +beyond, blowing in on the cool night breeze, or +else to sit in front of the fire gazing at the +glowing logs which helped her to focus her mind and +recapture elusive memories. +</p> + +<p> +On this November day each section had provided +its own solution. +</p> + +<p> +"I think perhaps you should put on something +warm," said Miss Dorset, avoiding +instinctively any suggestion that she was dictator +rather than adviser in the matter of wraps. "It's +a lovely sunny day but there's a cold wind +blowing round the corner of the house." +</p> + +<p> +She arranged Mrs. Greene's heavy cape as she +spoke, and then gently took her arm as they +began the laborious descent of the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +This safely accomplished and the old lady +deposited for a moment on a chair in the hall, +Miss Dorset hurried off to fetch her own coat. +</p> + +<p> +"There now, we're all ready," she stated +cheerfully on her return. "Will you have your +walking-stick?" +</p> + +<p> +She handed it to Mrs. Greene and they set +off, walking slowly towards the walled garden, +where clumps of tattered Michaelmas daisies, +some limp and shabby chrysanthemums, and a +few stalwart dahlias still defied the coming +winter. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden jocose gust of wind swept the +leaves along the untidy earthen borders, whirled +under Mrs. Greene's cape, and set all the +branches rustling and all the tree tops tossing +madly. +</p> + +<p> +"You're sure this isn't too much for you?" +asked Miss Dorset anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +Everything was in motion; trees, bushes, and +tatterdemalion flower heads. Even the earth +seemed to move under the restless scattering +leaves. +</p> + +<p> +"I like it," she announced stoutly, and +breathed deep of the rich odour of decay that +rose like a miasma from the ground. "I like +autumn; it's the time for adventures and fine +deeds; it's the bravest season of all." +</p> + +<p> +"That's quite true; I should like to die in the +autumn." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset's answer was as totally +unexpected as was the intensity with which she +spoke. Mrs. Greene looked at her for a +moment. +</p> + +<p> +"You're still young," she said. "Death isn't +the only adventure left for you as it is for me. +You ought to like spring best, when the +celandines come out." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset relapsed into her usual quiet +apologetic manner, so strangely at variance +with the uncompromising ferocity of her sentiments. +</p> + +<p> +"Spring always seems to me a little silly," +she asserted. "It's all so hopeful and promising, +and hope and promise are such callow things +and fall so soon in ruins." +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly realising that she had broken one +of her inviolable rules in betraying so intimate +a glimpse of her personality, Miss Dorset +hastily turned into a less personal channel. +</p> + +<p> +"I think the word 'jejune' expresses what I +feel about spring, but, as you say, the autumn is +a fine season, and to-day is really beautiful." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene held her peace. She had always +possessed too much sensibility to frustrate +anyone's means of escape from a conversational +predicament. She had never pressed for a +confidence. But as they walked down the path and +out at the further gate from garden to wood it +struck her as strange that there should be this +kinship of thought between Miss Dorset and her. +</p> + +<p> +The inequalities of life are very marked, she +thought. Most of us arrive at the same conclusion, +but the ways in which we reach it are as +many as the leaves scuttling at my feet. I lived +for seventy-five good years, then Geoffrey died +and the lean years came. All that was left was +to do the best I could from day to day, trying to +be a little stoical, and not getting too whining +and senile. But here's this poor dried-up +creature. She never had a spring time and yet she +lives like me from day to day getting a little +pleasure here and a little comfort there, but +really only living towards the grave. +</p> + +<p> +Her heart stirred with pity as she thought of +the glowing human relationships that had been +her happiness and delight for seventy-five +years, contrasted with the absolute emptiness of +Miss Dorset's thirty-eight years. +</p> + +<p> +"The trouble is I've lived too long; three +years too long; but she's never lived at all." +</p> + +<p> +Inadvertently she spoke aloud, but Miss +Dorset was quite unaware of the trend of +thought that had led to the remark. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon," she said mechanically, +more as a warning to her employer that she was +thinking aloud, than in expectation of a reply. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene, however, answered abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +"There's a ruby and diamond brooch in the +safe that I'm going to give you when we go +through my things this afternoon. I meant +to leave it to you anyhow, but you might +as well have it now. I'd like to see you +wearing it." +</p> + +<p> +She hardly heard Miss Dorset's surprised and +nervous thanks. She was again lost in thought, +appreciating with painful clearness her motive +in making this impulsive gesture. Life had +given nothing to Clara Dorset, so she, Margaret +Greene, was giving her a diamond and ruby +brooch. It seemed somehow inadequate; +Mrs. Greene smiled at the thought of how inadequate +it was, but she sighed sharply at the tragic +futility of all human endeavours to compensate, +to strike a balance between loss and gain. +</p> + +<p> +The day had changed for her. The fitful +kindly wind was no longer kindly. It tugged at +her hat and made her bones ache cruelly. The +white clouds blowing across the sky seemed +harbingers of rain, threatening to overcast the sun. +She felt frail and impotent, and when she said, +"I should like to turn back now," there was a +quaver in her voice that she tried in vain to +conceal. +</p> + +<p> +As they retraced their slow steps Miss Dorset +recited in detail her preparations for +Mrs. Hugh's arrival. +</p> + +<p> +"I've put two big vases of leaves in her +bedroom," she said. "There really aren't any +flowers left worth picking and the leaves are a +beautiful colour." +</p> + +<p> +"Sarah's garden at Lynton will be full of +flowers. They bloom for her all the year round, +but I'm no gardener." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene was regaining her serenity. +</p> + +<p> +"What are we giving her for dinner?" she +asked. "Sarah pays no attention to what she +eats, but I'd like to give her such a good dinner +that she'll be bound to notice it." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I had thought of a good clear soup, +some stuffed fillets of sole, a pheasant, and a nice +apricot cream," said Miss Dorset tentatively, +"but that can easily be changed if you would like +something more elaborate." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't like elaborate things," answered +Mrs. Greene, "but Sarah never thinks of anything +so mundane as food and it's good for her +to meet a materialist like me." +</p> + +<p> +She reflected for a moment and then +pronounced decisively. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that's a good dinner. But not apricot +cream. Tell cook to make a peach tart with our +own bottled peaches, and to give us a good hot +savoury after it, and tell her to put enough +sherry in the soup. I don't know why, but when +there's no man to cook for, they won't put +sherry in the soup or rum in the trifles." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene spoke energetically. Careless +herself as to what she ate, she had always held +it important not only that her glass and silver +should be beyond reproach, but that the food +served to guests should be delicately chosen and +delicately cooked. +</p> + +<p> +"There's a lot to be learnt from food," she +continued in a ruminating vein. "Take Sarah, +for instance. After a dinner at Lynton you can't +help knowing she's a good gardener because of +her fruit and vegetables, but you can't help +seeing she isn't discriminating; she gives you +nourishment without quality. And think of +Edith. Every meal I've eaten in that house has +stamped her afresh as a practical, unimaginative, +uninteresting woman." +</p> + +<p> +"I hadn't really thought of it, but I'm sure +there's a lot in what you say," agreed Miss +Dorset. "Here we are back again. Shall we go in +now or would you like another little turn?" +</p> + +<p> +"I would not," Mrs. Greene replied crisply. +"I'll go in and warm myself till lunch time; this +wind chills my bones." +</p> + +<p> +The warm atmosphere of the house after the +tang of the fresh November air brought a gentle +consciousness of fatigue that did not dissipate +during lunch time, and Mrs. Greene was not +reluctant to go upstairs for her afternoon rest. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes the indignity of returning to the +habits of childhood struck deep into her soul; +occasionally she indulged in a rare petulance, +but generally she accepted philosophically the +restrictions of her narrow life. +</p> + +<p> +"You understand what I want you to do, +don't you?" she asked Miss Dorset on the way +up to her room. "Open the safe, and get out all +the leather cases, and take down my jewel case +from my bedroom and put everything ready for +me in the library." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, I'll see to that," answered Miss +Dorset; and with the anticipation of a pleasant +task to be performed when she awoke, Mrs. Greene +fell asleep. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +III +</p> + +<p> +When the time came to waken Mrs. Greene +lest a prolonged sleep should spoil her night's +rest, Miss Dorset experienced a tremor of the +heart looking at the old face on the pillow. +</p> + +<p> +She perceived more clearly than anyone the +ravages wrought by the three years since +Geoffrey Greene's death in the body that encased +Margaret Greene's ardent but flickering vitality. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes it was impossible to believe that +Mrs. Greene was only sleeping; her face seemed +too old, too small, too hollow of cheek and +temple, ever to waken to a semblance of life. +These stiff brittle-looking eyelids could surely +never lift again, the body outstretched under the +eiderdown in a rigid and comfortless abandon +could never reassemble itself into the familiar +contours of trunk and limbs. Miss Dorset +endured a moment's prevision of the inevitable +day when she would touch a hand and find it +cold; every day she flinched at the thought, but +every day she marshalled her resources and +bent down to Mrs. Greene with the invariable +remark: +</p> + +<p> +"I think perhaps you would like to waken +now, and get up." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene wakened slowly and with difficulty. +Her first consciousness was of the past. +She wakened in the period of her early marriage +when her children were young—often with +their names on her lips—and she would look +vacantly at Miss Dorset for a few moments +while her brain went roaming down the long +years past the familiar landmarks of marriages, +births and deaths, till it fetched up at last with +a consciousness of her present situation, recognition +of Miss Dorset, and with a final detailed +knowledge of the month, the day, and her +immediate plans. +</p> + +<p> +Even so, for a little while her conversation +was disjointed; she referred to her grandchildren +by her children's names, and it seemed +a cruelty to expect her to re-assume the burden +of rational thought. +</p> + +<p> +To-day the struggle was not so prolonged as +usual. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I would like to get up now," she said, +still lying motionless but collecting her forces +for the effort. "Edith will be here soon and I +mustn't be late for tea." +</p> + +<p> +"It's Mrs. Hugh who is coming, not Mrs. +Rodney," Miss Dorset corrected gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, yes, I know it is; that's what I said," +replied Mrs. Greene testily. "Get me up now. +I'll put on my good blue dress and the shawl +Lavinia gave me." +</p> + +<p> +Changing in the afternoon was a much +simpler matter than dressing in the morning. +Some of the troubled vagueness and docility of +interrupted sleep still hung about Mrs. Greene, +and she hardly noticed that her body was being +turned this way and that, her hair brushed, and +her frock fastened. +</p> + +<p> +"Everything is ready for you if you still feel +you would like to go over your jewels," +suggested Miss Dorset on the way downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I would; I hadn't forgotten," +snapped Mrs. Greene, whose irritability +proclaimed clearly that she had forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset opened the library door and +disclosed the thin November sunlight streaming +over the open cases laid out on the table, setting +the diamonds a-glitter and shining into the +heart of rubies and sapphires. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene stopped in the doorway and +drew a quick breath of pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"They look very fine," she said excitedly, +"I didn't know I had so much. Of course there +are some of my mother's jewels there, as well +as Geoffrey's mother's, and all the things he +gave me." +</p> + +<p> +She moved over to the table and sat down, +lifting up her diamond necklace and pendant to +pore over its intricate but austere design. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't this beautiful?" she asked, not waiting +for an answer. "Geoffrey gave it me after his +first very successful book. We took a house in +the country so that he could be free to finish it +without interruptions, and he wrote all the +summer. It was a lovely summer too, although +Edwin's engagement in the autumn upset us all +rather. We didn't think it very wise. However, +Mr. Greene got his book finished, and it came +out in November and was very successful indeed, +and this is what he gave me the Christmas after. +I remember thinking it was terribly extravagant +of him, but of course I didn't know then that +his book would go so well in America." +</p> + +<p> +"It is a wonderful necklace," said Miss +Dorset, holding it up to the sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that's not the way to look at it. Put +it against a piece of dark stuff if you want to +see it properly." +</p> + +<p> +She drew a pair of slender emerald ear-rings +towards her. +</p> + +<p> +"These would do nicely for Lavinia some +day," she began, but broke off and picked up a +little gold ring set with an insignificant +sapphire. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Dorset, look at this," she exclaimed. +"That's what Geoffrey gave me after his very +first book was published." +</p> + +<p> +She looked at it reminiscently, not hearing +Miss Dorset's comment of "Indeed, how very +interesting." +</p> + +<p> +"It was not long after we were married," she +said presently. "We married young, you know, +and old Mr. Greene was very angry with Geoffrey +for making writing his career. He had +been in his father's engineering works first of +all and then found he was too unhappy to go on +with it. I was engaged to him then and I +encouraged him to go on with his writing. I said +I'd marry him as soon as he liked and not mind +about being poor, but he wasn't to start on a +career he didn't care for. So I went to Papa and +said I was going to marry Geoffrey at once and +would do it more happily if I had his permission." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene laughed her quiet infrequent +laugh as she added contentedly: +</p> + +<p> +"I was a bold young thing, you know. In +those days it was a different matter to beard +your father. But I didn't care for anything but +Geoffrey, and Papa behaved very nicely to me. +He gave me this as one of my wedding +presents." +</p> + +<p> +She groped among the cases, opened one, and +displayed an old-fashioned round brooch +consisting of a large amethyst surrounded by pearls +in an elaborate gold setting. +</p> + +<p> +"It looks clumsy now," she said, touching it +with kindly fingers. "But round brooches were +all the fashion then and I was very pleased with +it. Mamma was very angry about my marriage, +but then she was a very narrow woman; she +never moved with the times." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset enjoyed a momentary flash of +insight. She perceived that the old lady sitting +beside her, herself a great-grandmother, was +speaking of her mother, whose memory would +normally be blurred by the clouds of half a +century, in just the tones of clear resentment +that any young woman might employ to-day. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene was back in the past, and even +Miss Dorset caught something of the combined +fire and delicacy that must have inspired such +independence, such courage, and—according to +the standards of 1870—such immodesty as to +enable a betrothed young girl to arrange her +own marriage in the teeth of her mother's +disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment it was all so vivid to Miss +Dorset that she gave way to a spasm of +indignation and admiration. +</p> + +<p> +"Parents were far too harsh," she said. "It +was shocking of the old father to try and push +Mr. Greene into a business he didn't care for, +but it must be splendid for you to think how +you helped Mr. Greene to succeed." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene only answered by a vague: +"What do you say?" +</p> + +<p> +She had leaped thirty years and was fingering +rather sadly a star sapphire beautifully set +in diamonds to form a brooch. Presently she +laid it down and sitting with her hands folded +in her lap fell into one of those wideawake +trances that ended too often in melancholy. +</p> + +<p> +"What a beautiful brooch that is," ventured +Miss Dorset. +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer and no indication that +Mrs. Greene had even heard the remark. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset tried again. +</p> + +<p> +"Is it a star sapphire?" she asked. "I don't +think I've ever seen one like that." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene roused herself, but she spoke +heavily and limply. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it's a star sapphire, Geoffrey gave it to +me." There was a long pause. "We had a +quarrel," she said at last, "nothing very much; +it began just as a disagreement of opinion, but +I was very hot-tempered; I always said more +than I meant. So Geoffrey gave me this brooch," +she ended, inconsequently, a little furrow of +pain forming between her eyebrows at the +recollection. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset murmured something inaudible, +unable to offer any comfort for a quarrel which +had begun and ended probably thirty years ago. +Rather awkwardly, anxious to make a diversion, +she moved come cases nearer to Mrs. Greene. +By chance one of them contained the brooch +which had been spoken of in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I want," said Mrs. Greene +triumphantly, her depression completely +banished. "That's the brooch I want you to have; +it was another of my wedding presents and I +used to wear it a great deal, but I never wear +rubies now, and I would like you to have it." +</p> + +<p> +It was a very fine ruby. The sun lit up its +dark wine-coloured heart and turned to fire the +diamond pentacle in which it was set. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset caught something of its glow +and radiance. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't possibly thank you," she said, "I've +never had anything so lovely before; it will +give me real happiness." +</p> + +<p> +With an unusually impulsive and graceful +movement she lifted Mrs. Greene's hand and +kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +The old lady was amazed at the happiness +she had caused. She remembered her thoughts +of the morning. The brooch had seemed then a +cold and trivial thing. Now, lying on Miss +Dorset's hand, enriched by her unconcealed +pleasure, it became a warm symbol of affection +and gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene thought of services rendered, of +fine discretions, of considerateness carried far +beyond the borders of duty into the realm of +intuition, and she was filled with immense satisfaction. +There were good things in life: loyalties, +restraints, disinterested devotion. One lived from +day to day, from year to year, and at the end it +was bitten deep into the mind that baseness was +transitory, but that good quality endured. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene braced herself. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Dorset," she said sternly, "all my life +I've cared for the quality of things and people. +I'm old now; old enough to know the truth +that lies in platitudes, but if you see me slipping +into an easy tolerance, and putting up with the +second rate, you'll know that I'm dead, though +my body lives on." +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset was startled. Inadvertently she +expressed her crude and simple opinion, +speaking as to an equal, happily forgetful of the +responsibility of youth towards age; a +responsibility that leads to concealments and +subterfuges, to the elimination from conversation of +anything that might be unpalatable or alarming; +to the whole softening process that makes +for safety and, presumably, content. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, Mrs. Greene," she said confidently. +"You'll never become tolerant. Young +Mrs. Geoffrey often says you live on your critical +faculty and that it's my duty to give you +something to pull to pieces every day." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene was delighted. She laughed +with pure pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Helen says that, does she? Well, she's quite +right; I'm a malicious intolerant old woman, +and I don't suppose I'll change now." +</p> + +<p> +At that moment there was the sound of a car +drawing up at the front door. Mrs. Greene +looked in consternation at Miss Dorset. +</p> + +<p> +"There's Sarah," she said. "And I've done +nothing that I meant to. I haven't even decided +whether my necklace needs cleaning or not. +You'll have to put all these away now, Miss +Dorset, and get them out again to-morrow. But +it doesn't matter; I've had a very happy +afternoon and now I'll go into the drawing-room and +wait for Sarah." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +IV +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hugh Greene arrived with a characteristic +absence of fuss and impedimenta. She +greeted Miss Dorset in the hall with a friendly +smile, chatted to her for a moment and then +said: +</p> + +<p> +"I'll find Mrs. Greene in the drawing-room, +I suppose?" +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't you like to take your coat off, and +have a little rest?" suggested Miss Dorset. +</p> + +<p> +"No thank you. I'm not tired; it's nothing of +a journey; less than two hours in the train." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hugh spoke briskly and appeared quite +fresh and trim in her small, old-fashioned hat +and the neat dark coat and skirt of a mode which +she had first worn ten years ago, and had simply +caused to be repeated ever since. +</p> + +<p> +Eight years younger than her sister-in-law, +she was at a different stage of life; still active +and independent, able to make plans, carry out +her arrangements, and work indefatigably in her +garden regardless of wind and weather. Miss +Dorset, however, looking at her with an eye +trained by experience to note each subtle stage +of increasing frailty, thought that Mrs. Hugh +was beginning to show her age, and watching +her walk through to the drawing-room she +decided that her air of youthfulness was deceptive; +it was more an effect of manner than of +physique. Later, when she rejoined the two old +ladies for tea, she was confirmed in her opinion. +They were both quite definitely old ladies; one +apparently well, the other obviously in broken +health, but certainly of the same generation. +</p> + +<p> +She placed a little table beside each of their +chairs and busied herself with the tea things. +</p> + +<p> +As she poured out, she was keenly aware of +Mrs. Greene's mood, sensitive to the incisive +alertness of her speech without actually hearing +what she was saying. All this expenditure of +energy would have to be paid for by extra rest. +Mrs. Greene's personality might over-ride her +bodily ills and lend her a moment of spurious +strength, but the consequent nervous reaction +would be all the more merciless. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset sighed as she refilled the tea +cups. The alternatives were so clear. +Mrs. Greene could either relax her grip on life and +slide into a state of comfortable coma, with no +ups and down, no painful efforts and no particular +alleviations, or she could live on for a few +years paying a heavy toll for her good moments +in hours of depression and physical malaise. +There was no choice; the first was +temperamentally impossible. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Dorset sighed again, and then resolutely +set herself to join in the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene's expression was so deliberately +blank as to be provocative. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," she was saying, "Jessica and Hugh +get home on Tuesday, but I shan't be seeing +them till the party on Friday, I expect." +</p> + +<p> +"What party do you mean?" asked Mrs. Hugh +innocently. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you haven't had your invitation yet?" +Mrs. Greene replied with feigned surprise. +"Well, it's a little dinner Edith is giving for the +six Mrs. Greenes. It will be so nice to have a +reunion that we can all enjoy." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hugh looked aghast. +</p> + +<p> +"I never heard you say anything so fantastic +in all your life," she said decisively. "You may +have something in common with your daughters-in-law, +but I certainly have not. I never agree +with Edith, and I disapprove of Dora." +</p> + +<p> +"I knew you would say that," said Mrs. Greene +triumphantly. "You've got some sense, +Sarah. It's a shocking plan, but when Edith +gets an idea into her head you know very well +nothing will get it out again." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean to say you're taking the +trouble to go up to town just to fall in with a +whim of Edith's?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene looked a little helpless, and +Miss Dorset interposed quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Rodney is coming in the car to fetch +Mrs. Greene. He is very anxious to have her +up in town again, even if it's only for a night." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hugh's rather stern face softened. +</p> + +<p> +"Rodney is a good boy," she said. "You +know, Margaret, the last time I saw him it +struck me that he was looking very like +Geoffrey did at that age." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you think so?" asked Mrs. Greene +eagerly. "I sometimes see it, and then sometimes +I can't see it, but I think Hugh is very +like his grandfather." +</p> + +<p> +"Not nearly so good-looking. Geoffrey was +very good-looking, Margaret; he had a fine +scholarly head." +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh was handsome, too, Sarah. We were +two fine couples in the old days. Lavinia is like +what I used to be." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I think she is," agreed Mrs. Hugh. +"And Martin is a nice little boy, and very +sensibly brought up. Tell me, Margaret," she asked +suddenly, "does it make you feel different +to be a great-grandmother? You're at the +head of such a long line and I'm so isolated +in a way." +</p> + +<p> +She broke off, and then added before +Mrs. Greene had time to answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Not that I'm not fond of Rodney and my +own nephew Roger. Only not having children +and children's children makes me feel a little +stranded sometimes now that my own generation +has ebbed away and left me high and +dry." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene looked at her intently. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't know you felt like that, Sarah," she +said. "But I tell you this. At our age children +are very little use. It's Geoffrey I think of all +the time, and I don't doubt but that Hugh is +nearly always in your mind. +</p> + +<p> +"That's quite true," answered Mrs. Hugh +simply. "I think it's only natural that such +happy marriages as ours were, should remain +green in our minds. I've never grown acclimatised +to life without him. Somehow familiar +things don't seem so familiar." +</p> + +<p> +Silence fell and Miss Dorset looked at the +two quiet figures whose silence covered so +adequately their pain and rebellion. +</p> + +<p> +"If you would care for a little rest before +dinner, I think perhaps we ought to go upstairs +now," she suggested. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene got up, waving away the proffered +arm, which she would accept only in the +absence of visitors. +</p> + +<p> +"Take Mrs. Hugh to her room," she ordered. +"Sarah, we've put you in the front room +because of the view; the trees are lovely just +now." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure they are; it gave me quite a pang +to leave Lynton even for a week," said +Mrs. Hugh conversationally as she left the room in +the wake of Miss Dorset. +</p> + +<p> +Left alone Mrs. Greene walked with difficulty +over to the window. When Miss Dorset +came back she found her standing there, a small +crumpled figure, darkly outlined against the +orange curtains, gazing at the gathering dusk +with the inscrutability of her many years carved +round her mouth, but with a mysteriously youthful +speculation alight in her eyes. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +V +</p> + +<p> +Dinner was a meal of some ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +The two old ladies sat at either end of the +table with Miss Dorset at Mrs. Greene's right, +ready to help if her unsteady hands proved +unequal to the task of cutting her meat, or raising +her wine glass, which she insisted on having +filled to the precisely correct level. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene, in spite of all her modern +outlook, had retained in many ways an +old-fashioned eye, and she had never been able to +accustom herself to the fashion for bare tables. +It struck her as slightly barbaric; not in +keeping with the solemn tradition that had built +itself up around the ritual of dinner, a tradition +that to her mind necessitated the use of fine +linen, heavy silver, and good china. Candle-light, +too, was abhorrent to her. The flicker of +each separate candle, and the alternate dark +patches and uncertain pools of light on the table +which she considered should be illuminated by a +steady radiance, suggested to her something +slightly decadent and certainly grotesque. So +the table was lit from directly above, by a round +brass fitting, each of whose five globes was +covered by a rose silk shade. This, with sconces +on every wall, effectively dissipated the gloominess +of the severe shadowy room. +</p> + +<p> +This evening one of the finest damask cloths +with inlets of lace at each corner had been put +on in honour of Mrs. Hugh, and the heavy +silver bowl in the centre with its four attendant +silver vases arranged diamond-wise contained +the last poor blooms from the garden, mixed +with leaves whose colours ranged from saffron +through orange and russet to flaming scarlet. +</p> + +<p> +It was in keeping with Mrs. Greene's love of +formality that the conversation at dinner should +run along prescribed lines. General topics of +any sort, trivial or abstruse, she welcomed—but +forbade anything of a personal nature to be +discussed; gossip must be kept for the drawing-room. +This was sometimes a severe trial to Miss +Dorset who at the end of a wearisome day found +herself forced to eschew just those comfortable +irrelevances which were all that occurred to her +tired mind. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hugh, however, like Mrs. Greene, was +of that self-effacing generation of women that +had been brought up to make conversation at +dinner with the sole purpose of entertaining the +gentlemen, and she perfectly understood why +clothes and personalities were permissible in one +room and taboo in another. +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly throughout the meal the two old +ladies were accustomed to exchange a number of +superficial generalisations which both were too +fatigued to pursue. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene's single moment of animation +was also one of indignation. +</p> + +<p> +"You've not drunk your sherry," she said +crossly. "It's still the sherry that Geoffrey laid +down and I've got enough palate left to know +that it's good. Why don't you drink it?" +</p> + +<p> +"You know I never care much about wine," +Mrs. Hugh replied, "I think the only thing I +really enjoy is a glass of good claret." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"I remembered that," she said. "I told them +to bring up a bottle of the Pontet Canet. We had +some up last time Rodney was here, and it's got +a beautiful bouquet." +</p> + +<p> +"I shall enjoy that, Margaret," said Mrs. Hugh. +"You know I've never had to add anything +to the cellar since Hugh died. Sometimes +I've been very sorry to think of the 1906 Veuve +Clicquot going past it's best; in fact once or twice +I've thought of giving it to one of the young +couples, but young people don't seem to have +cellars nowadays." +</p> + +<p> +"That's true." Mrs. Greene's assent was a +little morose. "They don't go in for anything so +permanent. If they want something to drink +they just ring up a shop and order a few +bottles." +</p> + +<p> +"There have been great changes in the +last twenty years," reflected Mrs. Hugh. "Some +for the worse, no doubt, and many for the +better, but I confess I no longer find myself +able to adapt very readily. I'm too old to +change." +</p> + +<p> +This was dangerously like an expression of +personal feeling and Mrs. Hugh hastily covered +her tracks by asking Mrs. Greene's opinion of a +new book of travel. +</p> + +<p> +Dinner progressed slowly. The pheasant +appeared, three small slices of breast were eaten +by the three ladies, it was removed and the peach +tart took its place. Mrs. Hugh, for courtesy's +sake, toyed with a minute piece of pastry, Miss +Dorset enjoyed a reasonable helping, but +Mrs. Greene lacked the energy even to taste it. It +was succeeded by a savoury, which again for +courtesy's sake all three ladies made an effort +to eat. +</p> + +<p> +At last the interminable meal was ended. A +little food had been eaten, a little wine drunk, +and a prolonged exhibition of fortitude and +good manners had been given by Mrs. Greene, +whose weakness clamoured for the easy comfort +of a tray by the fire, but whose instincts and +training drove her to endure the full ceremony +prescribed by the laws of good society. +</p> + +<p> +She was very tired when they went through +to the drawing-room. She sat relaxed and +huddled in her armchair, stretching out her chill +hands to the fire, which leaped and spluttered. +</p> + +<p> +"The logs are green," she said dreamily. "But +I like to hear them hiss like that." +</p> + +<p> +"I like all country sounds and sights," +answered Mrs. Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"That's what you live on, Sarah, I understand +very well; Lynton is what you live on +from day to day; and you've got Hugh and your +past for a background." +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause, broken presently by Mrs. Hugh +who spoke quickly and jerkily in her insistency. +</p> + +<p> +"I find Lynton very lovely," she said. "It's +to satisfying and complete. I turn over the earth +and take out things and plant other things, and +they grow and flower, and when they die, I plant +something else. And it all goes on round and +round, so that I feel quite confident that beauty +renews itself even if it doesn't last, and so I'm +able to be happy." +</p> + +<p> +Her credo ended abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +"We're optimists, Sarah," said Mrs. Greene. +"You know, only this morning I was thinking +something like that, but I don't remember now +what it was. I forget things; I forget the +simplest things sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't let that worry you," advised Mrs. Hugh, +gently. "We all forget things when +we're tired." +</p> + +<p> +"I worry when I'm tired," confided Mrs. Greene. +"Everything worries me; the thought +of Edith's party next week worries me. I don't +feel I can face it." +</p> + +<p> +She relapsed into silence. In the glow of +the fire her face looked pinched and wan. +Suddenly it sharpened into irritation. +</p> + +<p> +"I must go to bed, Sarah," she said. "I'm +sorry to leave you so early, but I've talked +enough for to-night, and I'll see you in the +morning." +</p> + +<p> +She stood up, tremulous and uncertain. +</p> + +<p> +"Miss Dorset," she called querulously, "help +me to bed, Miss Dorset, I'm tired." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS. HUGH GREENE +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3> +MRS. HUGH GREENE +</h3> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +"What are you doing this morning, Aunt +Sarah?" asked Mary Dodds on the first morning +of Mrs. Hugh Greene's visit. "I have to do +some shopping, but I'd love it if you would +come with me." +</p> + +<p> +"No thank you, dear," answered Mrs. Greene. +"I have an appointment at 12 o'clock, +and if you'll excuse me, I won't come back to +lunch." +</p> + +<p> +"You're sure you won't be too tired if you +stay out both morning and afternoon?" +</p> + +<p> +Young Mrs. Dodds was genuinely solicitous, +and her husband, Roger, added quietly, "You're +not looking too well, Aunt Sarah; why not see +a doctor while you are in town?" +</p> + +<p> +"That is just what I'm doing at 12 o'clock, +but you needn't worry, my dears; I'm a little +run down perhaps, and don't forget that I'm +seventy this year so I can hardly expect to be +quite as active as I used to be. But I shall come +quietly back and have a rest before tea, if I +may." +</p> + +<p> +"Let me bring tea up to your room and have +it there with you," suggested Mary, "Ellen is +out this afternoon, and I shall be getting tea +myself anyhow, and it would be nice for you to +have it in bed and then rest on till dinner-time." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene turned to Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"Your wife is the most thoughtful young +woman I know," she said briskly, "You did +very well for yourself when you married +her." +</p> + +<p> +Roger laughed, kissed Mary, who was pink +and flustered, and left for his office. +</p> + +<p> +"You can't think how much nicer you are than +most relations-in-law, Aunt Sarah," said Mary +impulsively, "you're so much easier than my +mother-in-law somehow. She expects so much +of me that I just get futile and incompetent +when she is about." +</p> + +<p> +"I've never had any children, you know, and +I think perhaps that makes me less exacting than +Elinor. She has always made too many demands +on Roger, and that leads to difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +"You're awfully wise," said Mary slowly, +"I think all old people are much wiser than +middle-aged ones, especially women; perhaps in +ten years' time Mrs. Dodds will be quite +sensible." +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at Mrs. Greene who thought of +her uncertain, irritable, dissatisfied sister-in-law, +and smiled back at the improbability of her +developing into the type of tranquil old lady that +Mary seemed to hope for. Then, looking more +closely at Mary, she noticed that there was an +expression of strain and fatigue on her usually +pink and healthy face. +</p> + +<p> +"You're not looking very well yourself, +Mary," she said. +</p> + +<p> +Mary hesitated for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like to tell you," she said uncertainly; +"Roger thought I oughtn't to because I haven't +told his mother yet, but after all you're very +discreet, aren't you? We're having a baby in +about six months, and he is rather worried about +it because we can't really afford it." +</p> + +<p> +Her lip trembled a little, but she steadied +her voice and went on, "I'm really glad about +it even though it does mean getting rid of Ellen +and only having a cook and economising a lot, +but of course it isn't much fun for Roger, and +he does work hard." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I think that is a very nice piece of +news," said Mrs. Greene warmly, "I shall +thoroughly enjoy having a grandnephew or niece, +and you must let me pay your doctor and help +you in any way I can. As a matter of fact I get +tired sometimes of hearing my sister-in-law +talking of her great-grandchild and all her +grandchildren. You don't know old Mrs. Greene +do you? She's a delightful woman, but sometimes +I feel she forgets there are other young +couples in the world besides Lavinia and Martin +and the young Geoffreys, and now the Hughs." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you ever so much, Aunt Sarah, it's +lovely of you, and it will be a weight off Roger's +mind. He does work so hard, and he earns so +little." +</p> + +<p> +Mary's voice rose almost to a wail, but Aunt +Sarah only said crisply: +</p> + +<p> +"Oughtn't you to go and see the cook now? +You mustn't bother about me; I'll write a letter +or two before I go out." +</p> + +<p> +Young Mrs. Dodds gulped a little and blew +her nose, but as the parlourmaid came in, cast an +injured glance at the two ladies still sitting over +the breakfast table and then swept out with +pursed lips, she was sufficiently in command of +herself to laugh and say, "I shan't mind getting +rid of her anyhow. She's horribly haughty." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene left alone, sat for a moment in +thought before she crossed the hall to the small +living room. She wondered how Roger's inadequate +income was going to be stretched to meet +the demands of the unborn child which was +already beginning to assume a definite +importance in her mind. +</p> + +<p> +I'm as bad as Margaret, she thought; I +didn't really care so very much when her +great-grandchild was born, and yet it was my +great-grandnephew after all. But there is something +more intimate about this one; it's a Dodds, and I +feel possessive about it. Odd that after being +Mrs. Hugh Greene for nearly fifty years, I +should still be Sarah Dodds. +</p> + +<p> +Her thoughts turned back to Roger; something +ought to be done for him; his position in +the rather depressing solicitor's office where he +worked was unsatisfactory. +</p> + +<p> +As Ellen again entered the room, armed with +a formidable frown and a tray, Mrs. Greene +went across the hall and sat down to write. She +found herself unable to concentrate on her +letters. Either the thought of the impending +interview was draining her of her usually +resolute vitality, or the news that Mary had given +her had provoked an emotional reaction. +</p> + +<p> +Her heart stirred almost painfully as she +thought of Roger, his enduring good qualities, +his affection for her, his social inadequacy and +uncouthness that concealed a good brain and a +sense of humour. She had been pleased with his +marriage to Mary, the least exacting of women, +unaware of most of her husband's deficiencies, +and tolerant of those she recognised. +</p> + +<p> +A small sinister idea insinuated itself into +Mrs. Greene's mind. Unaware that she spoke +aloud she formulated her fear in words. +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps on this bright November day I shall +have to make my will, and then Mary need not +economise over her baby." +</p> + +<p> +The rich autumn sun struck a shaft across the +desk that warmed her chill hand, but +Mrs. Greene shivered as she looked across the +narrow street and steadied herself to accept the +immediate future. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Stiff looked at the quiet elderly woman +who was sitting on the other side of his desk, +and chose his words carefully. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid, Mrs. Greene, that I shall have +to call upon your courage and fortitude to listen +to what I cannot avoid telling you. I gather that +your suspicions amounted almost to a certainty +before you consulted me, and I am unfortunately +forced to confirm them. There is a +considerable growth in the left breast, which, owing +to the state of your heart, can't be removed. +That being so, we can only regard it as a definite +signal which must not be ignored." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke gently, but the crude fact implicit +in his words stuck out clearly. There was a +moment's pause. Mrs. Greene's hands were +folded in her lap; her throat felt a little dry, +and for a moment the walls of the room wavered +uncertainly towards her and the motes dancing +in a streak of sun across the floor seemed to +swell gigantically and overpoweringly. But as +she cleared her throat and prepared to speak, +they diminished and the room resumed its +normal proportions. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," she said steadily. "I quite +understand. You mean that I have cancer and +you are not able to operate. How long can I +expect to live?" +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Stiff looked distressed at the uncompromising +question, and his hand hovered over the +bell as he answered: +</p> + +<p> +"The disease is in its final stage, Mrs. Greene. +You must have had many attacks of pain +recently, and there won't be very many more." +</p> + +<p> +He pressed the bell as he spoke, and almost +immediately a nurse appeared with a little tray +containing a glass and a decanter of brandy. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene smiled. "No, thank you, Nurse," +she said, and her voice had its natural buoyancy +as she turned to Dr. Stiff. "My husband +never liked me to drink spirits of any sort, and +this has not been a shock to me. Indeed in some +ways it is almost convenient." +</p> + +<p> +She thought of Roger and then asked abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall I live for six months?" +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Stiff shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"It's impossible for me to give a definite +date," he said. "But I think not more than +three." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene pressed her hand to her treacherous +breast as she thought of Mary and Roger's +child that would be born in the Spring. +</p> + +<p> +"That is a disappointment to me," she said, +"but only a very trivial one. My husband died +eight years ago; we were very devoted to each +other and since then I have often felt as if I were +waiting with my hat and jacket on for some +vehicle to take me to him. Now that fancy is +gone; I see that the vehicle is my illness which +will soon come to a conclusion, and I thank you +very much for your consideration and kindness +to me." +</p> + +<p> +She rose to go. For a moment Dr. Stiff held +her hand as he said: +</p> + +<p> +"It's I who thank you, Mrs. Greene. My +work is very often both trying and depressing, +and to meet with such courage and control as +yours is a great stimulus to me." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I'm very old-fashioned," said +Mrs. Greene. "I've never learnt to take life so +vehemently and rebelliously as young people do +nowadays. I sometimes think they lack a sense +of humour and proportion. Goodbye and thank +you again." +</p> + +<p> +She left the room, unhurried and untroubled, +oblivious of the fact that she left behind her a +man filled with amazement at the dignity and +decorum of her generation. +</p> + +<p> +As she sat in a taxi on the way to lunch, Sarah +Greene was busy with arrangements: first of all +she must make an appointment with her solicitors +and see to her will. A feeling of warm +gratitude to her dead husband shot across her +mind as she remembered that he had expressly +stated that she was to leave the bulk of his +considerable fortune to relations and friends for +whom she cared. Lynton was her own of course, +both house and land, but she was glad that she +was under no moral obligation to leave Greene +money to Greenes; she was perfectly free to +make life as happy and tranquil as an assured +income could make it, for Mary and Roger +Dodds. +</p> + +<p> +Then a nursing home must be considered. +Mrs. Greene suppressed a slight tremor as she +thought of the crudity and awkwardness of a +death in the house: the embarrassed, tearful +servants; the relations whose perfectly sincere +grief could not prevent them feeling an intense +relief at the approach of a meal, followed by +an equally intense shame at the thought of +enjoying food with poor Aunt Sarah lying +upstairs; the desultory and spasmodic conversations; +the whole painful interregnum between +normal life before the death occurred and +normal life resumed after the funeral. A +nursing-home in London would certainly have +advantages. Sarah Greene would be able to die +as unobstrusively as she hoped she had lived. +</p> + +<p> +Before finding her way to the restaurant of +the large shop in which she intended to lunch, +Mrs. Greene made a few methodical purchases. +She had intended to buy half a dozen pairs of +the thick woollen stockings which she usually +wore for gardening, but in view of her curtailed +future she mechanically reduced the order to +three. She did not however hesitate to order a +new mackintosh, since her old one was worn +out, and a future, however short, was unthinkable +if it withheld from her the promise of +rainy walks on soft November afternoons with +dusk dropping behind the long row of beeches +that bordered the avenue up to Lynton, the +house she had loved and cared for these last +forty-five years. +</p> + +<p> +Later while she ate her usual plain lunch she +reviewed deliberately in some detail, the +sentimental aspect of the situation. Not again would +she see the daffodils swaying on their stems in the +spring winds that every year swept Lynton; not +again would she see the amazing blue of summer +skies through the amazing green of beech trees; +other hands would snap off the dead pansy +heads and pick the lupins ranged along the +mellow wall. +</p> + +<p> +A moment of forlornness, grim augury of the +desolate weeks ahead, fell upon Sarah Greene, +sitting in the crowded restaurant, to outward +seeming an elderly woman contentedly eating +her lunch. Panic squeezed her heart as she +thought of the creeping growth that was working +even now to her undoing, but her will +automatically reasserted itself. Self-pity was +repugnant to her; she was of the generation that +held duty to be at the same time an aim +and a reward, that accepted frustrations and +tragedies as part of the necessary fabric of +life. +</p> + +<p> +As she put down her coffee cup she dealt +sharply with herself. Here I am, she thought, +sitting in a ridiculous basket chair in a pink and +white restaurant. I've just finished a pleasant +lunch and bought a good mackintosh and now +I'm letting myself get quite maudlin; I'm +giving way to foolish fancies over what is only +a natural event. Much better go back to Roger's +little house and ring up my solicitor to make an +appointment for to-morrow. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of this small task was enough to +re-establish Mrs. Greene's poise. There were +still things to be done that only she could do, +and she sighed pleasurably as she remembered +that the Lynton gardens, greedy like all gardens +in their demand for time, care and skilled +forethought, would claim her, so long as she could +respond to any claim. +</p> + +<p> +As she talked to Mary a couple of hours later, +Lynton was still uppermost in her mind, and +her interest in the various aspects of Mary's +coming maternity was kindly but perfunctory. +</p> + +<p> +Mary was the perfectly conventional middle +class prospective mother, enjoying all the +emotions possible to a first pregnancy: pride in her +own adequacy, pride in the interest and the faint +spice of danger that would be attached to her for +the next few months—though as she eagerly +assured Aunt Sarah, "The doctor is frightfully +pleased with me. He says I'm ideally fitted to +be a mother,"—pride in Roger's love and +anxiety, and an overwhelming pleasure at +the thought of a small naked body to be +intricately clothed in wools and muslins, laces +and ribbons. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel it's going to be a girl," she said +positively. "And I'm going to make her the +loveliest little frilled cloak with a tiny bonnet to +match." +</p> + +<p> +"As a matter of fact, Mary," answered Aunt +Sarah equally positively, "I think it will be a +boy." +</p> + +<p> +A look of keen delight suddenly lit up her face. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear," she said, "I've just had a delightful +idea. Will you have your baby at Lynton? I +should so much like him to be born there. It +would give me the greatest pleasure to look +forward to the crocuses and hyacinths coming out +just about the right time. You would be very +comfortable there, and I can promise you I +would not inconvenience you in any way." +</p> + +<p> +"It's awfully kind of you, Aunt Sarah," Mary +spoke gratefully. "It would be ideal of course. +I've been worried about a nursing home, +they're so expensive, and this house is terribly +inconvenient. It's so small, and the hot water +is all downstairs, and that is awkward when +you're in bed. Besides I don't believe Roger +would mind my being away from him. After +all it's only an hour and a half to Lynton." +</p> + +<p> +"I very much hope you'll arrange it, Mary." +</p> + +<p> +"I really would love it." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I want you to make a definite plan +and keep to it. I have several reasons for asking +this; I don't want anything that may happen +to upset your plan." +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing is likely to happen." Mary's +thoughts were concentrated entirely on herself +and her condition. "Everything is quite normal, +and I'm sure it will go all right." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm quite sure, too," answered Aunt Sarah. +"I wasn't really thinking of that. Things do +change you know, dear, and arrangements +sometimes have to be altered, but I don't want +anything to interfere with this. You must talk +it over with Roger. Now tell me, Mary, do you +feel well enough to go to a play to-night? I +have a fancy for you and Roger and me to have +a little celebration. If it doesn't put you out at +all, I suggest that we dine at the Berkeley and +go to a theatre." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd love it. Thank you very much. Shall +I go and telephone to Roger and tell him not +to be late?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes do, Mary; and ask him to get three +stalls for any good play that we will all enjoy." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll get tea, too, when I'm downstairs," said +Mary happily, "I do hope you don't mind my +having to do it; I really didn't dare ask Ellen +to stay in, and there's never any use expecting +cook to do anything extra." +</p> + +<p> +At the thought of Ellen and cook, Mary +nervously wrinkled her forehead, but the frown +was chased away by an expression of amazed +relief as a new idea dawned on her. +</p> + +<p> +"Aunt Sarah, if I have my baby at Lynton, +I shan't have to bother the least bit about +servants or dust or Roger's meals or anything. +How perfectly marvellous." +</p> + +<p> +As Mary closed the door rather noisily, Sarah +Greene's sensibilities shrank from such a +robustly common-sensible point of view being +applied to her romantic project. The idea of new +life in Lynton house coinciding with so much +vigorous new life in Lynton gardens was +compensation to her for her own death. It struck the +right balance; more, it pleased her always +fastidious sense of the fitness of things, that she, an +old woman, should die before the turn of the +year when sap springs in the bough, and that her +grandnephew should be born in her house at +the time when apple trees blossom and lambs +play in the field. +</p> + +<p> +This pastoral conception sustained a rude +shock when Mary translated it into terms of +dust and domestics. +</p> + +<p> +Mary is a genuinely good capable girl, she +told herself, not imaginative, perhaps, but with +courage and intelligence, and most of the qualities +that Roger needs in a wife. Even so, it was +difficult to see Mary at Lynton, ordering the +household, planning new effects for the misty +herbaceous border, lavishly stocking the formal +beds, attentive to the diurnal duties towards +flowers and trees and shrubs. +</p> + +<p> +Sarah Greene thought of her other young +relations: Lavinia, mondaine, vivid, with a +delicate certainty of touch that enabled her to cover +her essential sophistication with a delightful +veneer of country simplicity. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia in green linen stooping over the rose +beds in the sunlight was perfect; Lavinia in +scarlet silk stepping out of the French window +to the moonlit terrace was perfect; her clothes +for a country weekend were admirable. But +Lavinia waking day after day to the sound of +steady rain, was unimaginable. She would +find herself without interests and without +resources. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene decided quite firmly that +Lavinia would not do for Lynton. +</p> + +<p> +Helen and Geoffrey were not more promising +candidates. Geoffrey's manifest uneasiness +in tweeds, his distaste for country pursuits no +less than Helen's restlessness and impatience, +rendered them ineligible. +</p> + +<p> +Helen really paints well, thought Mrs. Greene. +It's a pity she so seldom finishes anything, +and that when she does, she just tosses it +aside and begins at once on something new. +</p> + +<p> +A vision of Helen frenziedly digging up +week-old bulbs to see if they had sprouted +crossed Mrs. Greene's mind and she smiled. +</p> + +<p> +Only Hugh and Jessica remained. But +Jessica, the youngest Mrs. Greene, with her +small creamy face, her cool incisiveness to the +world and her passionate gentleness to Hugh +could never belong to Lynton. She was too +slight and too brittle. At moments she seemed +as vibrant as spun glass, at moments she dimmed +into a moony vagueness. There was no stability +about her; she would never move with Lynton +through the steady roll of the seasons, taking +note of the almost imperceptible signs that +herald growth and decay. +</p> + +<p> +Thinking it over, Mary was really much the +most suitable. There was something slow-moving +and deep-rooted about her; she, was +practical but not trivial; she did not spend +herself on details but she never ignored them, and +she could take a long view of things. She was +free from petty spites and envies, and she and +Roger would do very well. As Sarah Greene +reached this conclusion the door opened to +admit Mary with the tea-tray and a letter, +addressed in Mrs. Rodney Greene's unmistakable +writing. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Mary, I knew that letter was coming, +but I'd forgotten all about it." +</p> + +<p> +"Is it something tiresome?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not exactly. It's an invitation to dinner +next week at the Rodneys but I don't feel like +meeting people just at present." +</p> + +<p> +Sarah Greene drew the letter rather reluctantly +from its envelope and read it. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + 207, Sussex Square.<br> + 9th Nov.<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +My dear Aunt Sarah, +</p> + +<p> +Many thanks for your kind letter after the +wedding. I am so glad you thought it all went +off nicely and that you weren't too tired. +</p> + +<p> +I expect you have heard that Hugh and +Jessica get back on Tuesday after a delightful +honeymoon apparently. We have had +several very happy post-cards from them, +though I must say I should have liked a +letter. +</p> + +<p> +I have planned a little dinner-party for +them for Friday the 18th, to-morrow week, +at 7.45, which I do hope will suit you. It is +only a family affair, but I am anxious that +all six Mrs. Greenes should meet and enjoy +each other, so I very much hope you will be +able to come. +</p> + +<p> +With love from Rodney and myself, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + Yours affectionately,<br> + EDITH GREENE.<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Rodney is having her party next +Friday," said Mrs. Greene slowly. "I hadn't +meant to stay in town quite so long." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, do stay, Aunt Sarah," urged Mary. +"We love having you and if you don't want to +go to Mrs. Rodney's we can easily think of +something. Why not invent an engagement for +that evening?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she said decisively. "You know I +almost think I shall enjoy it, and I think it will +be salutary too." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you mean, salutary?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you know, my dear, one begins to +think oneself and one's own affairs too +important; and then being plunged into a family +dinner party like that, one finds how relatively +unimportant one is. The young people are taken +up with their own lives, and Mrs. Rodney is +busy about her arrangements, and poor Mrs. Edwin +is always very pre-occupied and so I shall +forget about my own troubles." +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't have thought you had any +troubles or worries," was Mary's naïve +comment, to which Mrs. Greene responded briskly +and quite genuinely, "Well, no, Mary, I haven't +many. One thing on my mind is my second +gardener. He isn't turning out as well as I +expected. He has bad hands for planting." +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause as Mary poured out a cup +of tea and handed it to her Aunt who thanked +her and added: +</p> + +<p> +"You know it's very nice and luxurious to be +here like this and have tea brought to me. Now +tell me about this evening; what did Roger +say?" +</p> + +<p> +"He was delighted," said Mary. "He says +he can get away fairly early from the office, +and he'll get the tickets on the way home. And +he asked me to give you his love and ask what +it was you were celebrating?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene's heart missed a beat. She felt +that she could hardly say, "I'm celebrating my +death sentence," and yet the melodramatic little +phrase nearly escaped her. She hesitated for a +second and then said quite naturally: +</p> + +<p> +"We're celebrating the very good news you +told me this morning, my dear Mary. I'm very +happy about it; I shall enjoy having a grand-nephew." +</p> + +<p> +Mary's face glowed with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"I never thought you'd be so pleased. +Would you like us to call him Hugh if he's a +boy?" +</p> + +<p> +Sarah Greene took her hand and held it for +a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"It's kind of you to think of it," she said, +"but no, Mary, I don't really think I'd like it. +I've never quite believed in calling children +after people; it doesn't seem to me to mean very +much; I'd rather you just called your boy any +name you liked." +</p> + +<p> +"I had thought of Roger, but I'm not sure." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, don't be influenced by anyone; just +decide what name you like and keep to it. It's +only a convention to name children after their +relations, and I don't quite believe in conventions +that are based on sentiment. Perhaps we +get harder as we get older; I'm not sure. But +it seems to me that my generation has a good +deal in common with yours. We were very +differently brought up, of course, but we +arrived at rather the same conclusions as you +young people have now: a distaste for anything +too easy, or flabby, as you might call it." +</p> + +<p> +She turned questioningly to Mary, who reflected +for a moment in the struggle to assemble +her thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"I know what you mean," she said at last. "I +do feel we've much more in common with people +of your age than people about forty-five or +fifty. We're harder than they are, and we take +things in our stride like your generation did. I +always think you were awfully brave. And we're +a greedy generation, but I don't think we're +greedy in such a soft way as middle-aged people +are." +</p> + +<p> +She stopped again to think, and then added: +</p> + +<p> +"Your generation doesn't strike me as being +greedy at all. You were all so awfully good at +self-sacrifice." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Mary," she expostulated, "that +sounds terrible—as if we were all would-be +martyrs. Yes, indeed, we were just as greedy +as you are, but we wanted different things, and +I think we very often wanted them for other +people. As wives, we were contented to be a +good deal in the background; we liked our +husbands to shine and we didn't need so much +personal success as women do nowadays. But it +wasn't so very different after all; I know you +want things for Roger more than for yourself, +for instance." +</p> + +<p> +"I do want a lot for Roger," agreed Mary +eagerly and Mrs. Greene exulted in the thought +of how much her death would do for this +satisfactory and devoted young couple. Money she +could give them in her life-time, but what was +money compared to Lynton whose lovely +perfection was solace enough for the bitterness of +life and the fear of death? +</p> + +<p> +She switched abruptly off this trend of +thought. +</p> + +<p> +"If we are dining early and going out," she +said, "it's certainly time I got up and began to +think about dressing. And we've never taken the +tray down. Let me help you, Mary, like a good +child." +</p> + +<p> +But Mary refused help, piled the tray up +competently and left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene found herself strangely comforted +by this short and uneventful conversation. +Later, as she dressed, she thought about +the young Dodds and their contemporaries. +They have good points, these young people, she +decided finally; lots of courage and spirit; and +how pleasant it is to think that I, who was +brought up a model of deportment, at the end +of my life should find myself able to take +things in my stride. +</p> + +<p> +She smiled over the phrase. Uncouth and +slangy as it was, it seemed to her to show a good +enough standard, and when she went downstairs +she said gaily, "Roger, your wife's been +teaching me modern slang and I like it." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +III +</p> + +<p> +The evening was a very happy one. There was +a distinct air of festivity about the elderly woman +and her two young companions as they sat in +the restaurant enjoying dinner, liking and +admiring each other and full of pleasurable +anticipations of the play. +</p> + +<p> +Mary looked pretty. The lamps were +becomingly shaded and softened her too +pronounced features. Roger's naturally sober +manner never lapsed into heaviness and much +of his anxiety had been allayed by the way in +which his aunt had not only welcomed the +news of his prospective son, but was determined +to help at what was undoubtedly a crisis in his +affairs. Sarah Greene was lost in the pleasure +of the moment. As she looked at Roger and +Mary and thought of them at Lynton, her heart +was warm and her mind at peace. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear children," she said towards the +end of the dinner, "I'm very pleased with you +both; I want you to be very happy." +</p> + +<p> +"This really is a celebration," said Mary +excitedly, "we are enjoying ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +But Roger lifted his glass, and looking at +Mrs. Greene smiled charmingly. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like you to drink to our friendship, Aunt +Sarah," he said. "I'm thirty-two now, and I've +appreciated you for quite twenty years. Our +relationship is something I value very highly." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the emotional tension was high. +Rare tears sprang to Sarah Greene's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Roger," she stammered, "my dear +boy. It is so sweet of you to say that; I'm getting +old and I need your affection." +</p> + +<p> +She stopped uncertainly and Roger saw that +her usually imperturbable face was blurred and +twisted; the face of an old woman. +</p> + +<p> +Before he had clearly taken in her sudden +change of feature Mary intervened. +</p> + +<p> +"But, Aunt Sarah, we never think of you as +old; you have such a modern point of view." +</p> + +<p> +Sarah Greene steadied herself and regained +her normal tranquil expression. +</p> + +<p> +"I must be getting old," she announced, "because +you're making me feel quite sentimental. +In fact the sooner we get off to the theatre the +better." +</p> + +<p> +She rose and went with Mary to fetch her +cloak, perfectly in command of herself again, +but a cold breath of foreboding had touched +Roger. +</p> + +<p> +All evening, at the theatre listening to the +play, during the intervals while he talked to his +aunt and his wife, even in the taxi driving +home, he was teased by the recollection of +Mrs. Greene's face. He felt as if he had been given +a clue to some puzzle, but not a final clue that +would unravel it. +</p> + +<p> +Later, as he was falling asleep, he thought +contentedly: well anyhow she'll be here for ten +days; perhaps she'll tell me; I might be able to +help, whatever it is. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +IV +</p> + +<p> +Sarah Greene wakened in the night straight +from deep sleep to considerable pain. +</p> + +<p> +She had wakened often these last few months +to that same rending pain which numbed her +elbow, ran up her under arm, stabbed fiercely +at her arm-pit and concentrated itself in an +agonising grasp of her left breast. +</p> + +<p> +She had lain on her back panting and sweating, +conscious of her heart thumping unevenly, +waiting for the first moment of relief when she +would be able to stretch out her hand for the +opiate that was always ready by her bed: an +opiate too mild to give sleep, but strong enough +to dull the edge of the attack. +</p> + +<p> +When this stage had been reached and she +was no longer abandoned to the horror of the +moment, Mrs. Greene almost invariably found +herself betrayed into moments, and even hours, +of pure panic, when speculation as to the nature +of her disease forced itself on her reluctant +mind. +</p> + +<p> +Time and again she had brought herself to +the point of deciding to see a specialist; time +and again she had told herself that she knew +what it was—cancer—and she would repeat the +word, Cancer; cancer is what is wrong with you +Sarah Greene; but always there had been an +element of uncertainty to torment her with a +hope too frail to build on but too tough to +disregard. +</p> + +<p> +These hours of desperate indecision had +culminated at last in the appointment with +Dr. Stiff, whose verdict left no loophole, as +Mrs. Greene remembered when the pain began to +subside. +</p> + +<p> +Instead, she was conscious of a feeling of +comfortable relaxation. The ugly possibility +established as an inevitable fact, had lost its horror; +it simply had to be accepted and dealt with. +</p> + +<p> +Lying there with her face turned to the small +window of Mary's spare bedroom Sarah Greene +found that she was perfectly happy. Now that +no further struggle was possible and that a +conclusion had been reached, she had fallen into a +condition of luxurious restfulness which she +decided would probably last till her death, +broken of course by successive bouts of pain, and +by small variations of mood. But fundamentally +she was at ease and likely to remain so. +</p> + +<p> +A small wind blew along the street between +the two rows of tall narrow houses, and fluttered +the curtains at her window. +</p> + +<p> +She sighed; it was a London wind; even in +the cool of the autumn night long before dawn, +it was a London wind. She got up restlessly, put +on a dressing-gown and sat down in a chair +beside the low window. +</p> + +<p> +The house opposite seemed indecently near +and indecently small. There could be no dignity +of life in so cabined a space. Everywhere she +saw a huddle of houses and chimneys. Wind +blew along the street again and a casement +curtain flapped out of the window opposite and +filled her with distaste. It was so close to her, +this grotesquely flapping piece of linen that +belonged to people whose name she did not know, +whose lives were alien to hers. +</p> + +<p> +A sudden nostalgia for Lynton broke like a +storm in her heart; Lynton where her windows +looked out on lawns and fields and beech trees, +and even the sky seemed more remote. +</p> + +<p> +She stood up, her fingers pressed nervously +on the window sill, and whispered, "I must go +back to Lynton, I must go at once. It's +impossible to spend a whole week in town. I'll go +to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +There was a gentle knock at the door. Resentful +of any intrusion she said sternly, "Come in," +and waited, a rigid small figure at the window. +</p> + +<p> +Roger came quietly round the door and shut +it carefully. +</p> + +<p> +"May I come in for a few minutes?" he +asked, "Mary's asleep, but I wakened up and +heard you moving about, and thought I'd like +to come and talk to you. I've had a feeling all +evening that there was something wrong, or not +exactly wrong; I don't quite know." +</p> + +<p> +He broke off uncertainly, then lifted a chair +over to the window and said gently: +</p> + +<p> +"Let's sit and talk for a little; will you tell me +if there's anything on your mind?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene sat down again. Her resentment +had died. Roger in pyjamas and dressing-gown +looked young and tentative, and yet there was +about him an air of steadfastness that suited the +occasion. She looked at him and said lightly: +</p> + +<p> +"My dear, this is a very funny scene. You +and I sitting here at the window in the middle of +a cold November night." +</p> + +<p> +But Roger only answered: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't put me off, Aunt Sarah. I feel there +is something wrong, and I do want you to tell me." +</p> + +<p> +She sat silent. It had never occurred to her to +take anyone into her confidence; the thought of +being pitied was too upsetting; but Roger was +different. He would be able to help; he was +strong and reliable and dignified. Supposing she +told him, he would not obtrude his knowledge +of her secret during the next few months, and +indeed he must be fond of her, she decided, or +he would never have guessed at the existence of +trouble for he was not naturally intuitive. +</p> + +<p> +She took a rapid decision and then spoke. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad you came in to-night, Roger. I +would like to tell you something rather important +both to you and to me. I had never thought +of telling, but now I feel I would like to +do so." +</p> + +<p> +She paused for a moment, looking down into +the quiet street, and then continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I saw a specialist to-day as you know, and he +told me what I've feared for some months. I've +got cancer, Roger dear, and they can't operate or +do anything for it." +</p> + +<p> +Unconsciously she tightened her grasp of his +hand and hurried on. "And you see dear, I +haven't much time left; only a few months in +fact, and you can help me to arrange all sorts +of things if you will." +</p> + +<p> +She stopped, a little breathless, and looked at +Roger. He was sitting very still but she could +see the muscles of his throat twisting as he +swallowed and swallowed again, still in silence. +When at last he answered her his voice came +huskily from a dry throat. +</p> + +<p> +"I never guessed at anything like this, Aunt +Sarah. I never dreamed of anything so terrible. +I don't suppose you want me to tell you how +sorry I am"—He broke off and then burst out, +"It's hopelessly inadequate just to say I'm +sorry; it means far more than that." +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, my dear, you'll waken Mary if you +talk so loud; and listen, Roger, I don't want you +to feel like this. I'm an old woman and I've not +got much to live for, so it seems quite natural and +right to me. I don't want you to get worked up +about it; I want you to help me." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I will," answered Roger. "You +must tell me what to do. But you must realise, +Aunt Sarah, that this is a bad knock to me; it's +so awful to have you here like this, here with me +now, and to know at the same time that you're +so ill." +</p> + +<p> +He was obviously unstrung, but Sarah Greene +was too intent on her subject even to notice. Her +soft untroubled voice went on: +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't awful to know beforehand, Roger; +it's splendid, because of Lynton. Lynton really +is important, and I can make so many preparations +now that I know. I'm leaving it to you, +Roger—money too, of course, but that doesn't +matter. It's the house and land that matter. +You'll live there, you and Mary; your children +will be born there, and when you die your son +will have it. Are you listening Roger dear, do +you understand?" +</p> + +<p> +Roger relaxed his attitude of strained attention; +he had caught something of the urgency +of her preoccupation. +</p> + +<p> +"I love Lynton," he said simply. "It will +entirely change my life. You know I'm not very +happy in my work and living like this, but I can +be absolutely happy at Lynton, and I'll try to +have things exactly as you would like them. It's +absurd to thank you, Aunt Sarah; Lynton isn't +a Christmas present, but I promise you I'll keep +it up to standard." +</p> + +<p> +"It does reassure me to hear you say that," +Mrs. Greene answered happily, "I know you +love it, Roger, and there will be enough money +to keep it as it ought to be kept." +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes were vague, her thoughts abstracted +as she brooded over the years during which her +life had been bound up with the life of Lynton. +</p> + +<p> +"You know, I've lived there all my life," she +went on, "except for the first three years after I +married. There was never enough money when +I was a girl; the house got shabbier and shabbier, +and there were only two labourers for the +gardens, and everything was over-grown; even +the lawns had to be scythed and looked like +rough meadows. And then I married Hugh and +he loved it nearly as much as I did, and even +during the three years when Mamma was still +alive, he spent a little money here, and a little +there, very secretly and carefully so that she +shouldn't guess." +</p> + +<p> +"Where were you living then, Aunt Sarah?" +interrupted Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"We had taken a house not far from Lynton. +You know it surely; it's called Willowes, only +about two miles the other side of Petworth. Of +course Hugh came up to town during the week; +he was very busy you know. Geoffrey had +refused to go into his father's business, so Hugh +stepped into old Mr. Greene's shoes when he +died. I came up sometimes, but not very often. +Then when Mamma died we went to live at +Lynton of course, and Hugh gave me a free +hand. I put the house right first; it was the +easiest, but then it took a long time to work up +the gardens, and the lawns didn't come right for +years. And you see the tenants hadn't had +anything done for them for a long time, so I had +to be very judicious. The farms needed new +roofs and some wanted new outbuildings, and +the fences and gates were in a shocking state, but +we improved it all slowly." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene fell silent, thinking gratefully +of all that her husband's money had been able +to do for the place she loved. +</p> + +<p> +"And now of course it's perfect," said Roger +soberly. +</p> + +<p> +She caught eagerly at the word. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I think it is perfect, but you know it +would go downhill at once if it wasn't looked +after. And that's why I'm so glad to have told +you all my affairs. You see dear, now I can go +over everything with you, and give you all sorts +of details that it would take you some time to +find out for yourself, and so there need be no +hitch later on when you take over." +</p> + +<p> +Both were conscious that this was a reminder +of the grim fact underlying the whole conversation, +but to Mrs. Greene it seemed unimportant, +and Roger was enough in tune with her to be +able to concentrate on the one lovely aspect of +the situation. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like to go with you to Lynton," he +suggested. +</p> + +<p> +"That's exactly what I want. I feel I must get +back there at once dear. I can't stay on in town. +But I don't want to hurt Mary's feelings, and I +must come up again next week for Mrs. Rodney's +party. What is the best thing to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really want to go at once?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, really at once. To-morrow if possible—I +suppose I mean to-day———" +</p> + +<p> +A sudden realisation of the time swept over +Mrs. Greene. +</p> + +<p> +The stars had faded and a pale dawn was +creeping up the sky. +</p> + +<p> +"It's cold," she said, "and it's some absurd +hour in the morning. We must both go to bed. +I don't know what we've been thinking of; this +is all most unusual." +</p> + +<p> +Roger smiled and stood up. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm just going," he said, "but first about +plans: We'll tell Mary that you feel it's too +long to stay in town, and that you're going home +to-day, and coming back next week. And I'll join +you to-morrow, Saturday, and spend Sunday +with you." +</p> + +<p> +It was surprising that Roger should take the +initiative to this extent; he seemed suddenly to +have become more mature, more capable, and +Sarah Greene found the effect very restful. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Roger dear, that will be the best +possible plan," she said, enjoying to the full the +rare sensation of being arranged for. +</p> + +<p> +She stood up, shivering a little in the cold +morning air. +</p> + +<p> +"You've been the greatest comfort to me," +she said, "and I don't want you to think of this +talk as being at all sad. It isn't. Planning for the +future is a very happy thing, and now I'm going +to bed again." +</p> + +<p> +Roger kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +"Goodnight, my dear," he said. "Sleep well +till breakfast, and rely on me. I'll take care of +Lynton for you." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +V +</p> + +<p> +On Saturday morning a dense pearl-coloured +mist rose about two feet above ground, so that +walking along her familiar paths Sarah Greene +experienced unfamiliar sensations. Trees and +bushes seemed to balance lightly on the swimming +vapour; the gentle slope up to the garden +assumed a fiercer gradient; everything was wet +to the touch, yet no rain fell. +</p> + +<p> +At noon a watery sun gleamed fitfully +through the stationary clouds, but at four o'clock +when Roger drove along the beech avenue only +occasional bare branches were dimly visible, and +when the car turned the last corner he saw that +the lovely sombre house was softly shrouded. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene had spent the afternoon in a +state of unreasonable disappointment. She knew +that Roger had arrived at Lynton countless times +in the full splendour of sunlight, but she had +determined that this arrival, too, should have the +benison of the sun. He was not coming this time +only as Roger Dodds; he was coming as owner +of Lynton who must also be lover of Lynton. +</p> + +<p> +Proud and confident as she was of the +irreproachable beauty of house and land, she +had nevertheless set her heart on showing them +off to their best advantage at this particular +moment when Roger would be likely to see +them from a new angle. +</p> + +<p> +His first words dispelled her anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't this mist beautiful? I don't think I've +ever seen the house look so lovely and mysterious." +</p> + +<p> +"Does it really strike you like that? I've been +feeling so cross with the weather all afternoon; +I wanted sun for you, but it doesn't matter if +you like this." +</p> + +<p> +"I do. I think it's beautiful," repeated Roger +emphatically. +</p> + +<p> +"Come and have tea now," said Mrs. Greene, +"and just tell me when you have to go back to +town so that I can arrange everything to get the +most value from your visit." +</p> + +<p> +"I must go to-morrow evening about five, I'm +afraid. There's a rotten slow train about then +that'll do me quite well." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Monday quite impossible?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid it is, quite," Roger answered +definitely. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, then," said Mrs. Greene. "After +tea and this evening we'll devote to business. +I'll get out the map of the estate and give you +details about all the tenants and go over the +books with you. That will leave us free really to +enjoy to-morrow. I think it will be a lovely day; +it often is after a mist like this, and we'll go for +a long walk and have a late lunch. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like that immensely." +</p> + +<p> +"We'll go down the grass walk to the lower +fields where Lynton marches with Hurstfield +and then home through the woods. And sometime +I want you to talk to Hamilton. He's an +excellent man and he can help you a great deal. +I'm not quite satisfied with Parks, the second +gardener. We'll ask Hamilton what he thinks of +him." +</p> + +<p> +"I've been thinking a lot about Lynton yesterday +and to-day," said Roger, shyly, "and realising +how much I like every detail. It's good the +way the house stands four square to the winds, +and I like the Portland stone it's built of. Really +the exterior is a lovely combination of ornament +and discretion. It's sound, don't you think?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's exactly what your Uncle Hugh used +to say," answered Mrs. Greene slowly. "Yes, it's +sound. Houses are beautifully permanent, aren't +they? I like to think that stone lasts, just as I +like to remember that the beeches will be better +for your son than they were for my grandfather. +Lynton consolidates itself with every generation." +</p> + +<p> +"It's a good point of view," said Roger +soberly. "You know I like stability and soundness. +I saw so much chaos in the war that I had +a violent reaction in favour of settled traditional +things. In fact I'm very conventional." +</p> + +<p> +"You have to be conventional if you're going +to be at all happy in the country," Mrs. Greene +announced with decision. "I don't mean because +of the people, though there's that too, of course. +They are much more conventional than in town, +and they'd be disappointed and puzzled if one +didn't do certain conventional things. But I was +thinking of Nature really. You'll find that the +land and the woods and the gardens all proceed +along the most orderly and conventional lines. +Really, Roger, there are no surprises, except that +every year I find the first tulips more lovely +than I had remembered. But nothing bizarre +ever happens. Things either go smoothly and the +crops are good and the flowers do well, or else +it's warm too early and we get frost in April and +everything is nipped; but either way it goes by +rote." +</p> + +<p> +"Every word you say makes me like it +all the more." Roger's face was serious. "You +see I'm rather like that myself. I'm dull; +I've no surprises." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene attacked him hotly in his own +defence. +</p> + +<p> +"Really Roger, what nonsense you talk. It's +ridiculous to say you're dull. I don't find you so +at all, and you very often surprise me. I don't +approve of your underrating yourself like that." +</p> + +<p> +Roger laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean to underrate myself, but sometimes +I feel I'm a dull dog." +</p> + +<p> +"You never need feel that when you're with +me, Roger," said Mrs. Greene, struggling to +express an emotional fact in an unemotional +manner. "You know how fond I am of you, my +dear boy, and proud of you too. You touched +me very much by what you said at dinner the +other night about our friendship. I know it was +quite true and genuine, and the more I think +of it, the more I am glad to think of you and +Mary living here." +</p> + +<p> +She stood up abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +"Come now, let's go and get out the books; +I really have a great deal to tell you." +</p> + +<p> +Late that night Sarah Greene drew back the +curtains of her bedroom and looked out over the +wide lawns to the formally cut box hedge +beyond and to the meadows beyond that, sloping +steeply up to the solitary woods. +</p> + +<p> +A breeze had sprung up dispelling the mist, +the heaped-up clouds were hurrying across the +dark sky, and the young clear moon was +unrimmed. +</p> + +<p> +"To-morrow will be a wild and lovely day," +she said softly, "Lynton will look its best for +Roger." +</p> + +<p> +Confident and contented she got into bed and +slept till morning, when she wakened to just +such a day as she had foretold. White clouds +were still hurrying across the sky, but in between +it was a deep and steady blue. Leaves were +flying over the lawn; a branch had been blown off +the lime tree near her window and lay untidily +on the path below. Even the solid hedge yielded +a little this way and that to the contrary wind. +</p> + +<p> +It was a sparkling and exhilarating morning. +Sarah Greene and Roger Dodds shared in its +exhilaration as they started out before eleven. +They had made no professions of pleasure +beyond Roger's casual comment, "A lovely day, +isn't it?" as he came in a little late and sat down +to breakfast. But each was conscious of the +other's happiness, and at times when Mrs. Greene +caught Roger's eye, or saw him lift his +head suddenly intent as a fiercer gust battered +on the windows, she felt that they were +conspirators who shared a secret too exquisite to be +alluded to. +</p> + +<p> +This feeling persisted. Never before had +Roger seemed so responsive. As they walked at +a good pace down the grass path, his hidden +excitement communicated itself to her, and her +delight was obvious to him. +</p> + +<p> +I've never felt like this with anyone but +Hugh, she thought. It's like a discovery. I've +never really known Roger before, and now, just +when Lynton and I need him, he suddenly +unfolds. It's too surprising. +</p> + +<p> +A small toad hopped clumsily across their +path; his legs as he took off for each leap +seemed incredibly long, and his protruding eyes +were startled. They stopped to watch him, and +laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Roger, too, was conscious that a marked +change had taken place in their relationship; it +was more alive, and at the same time more +comfortable. It struck neither of them as strange +that this should be so; everything seemed perfectly +natural to the ill-assorted pair; the small +woman of seventy, pinched, sallow, dressed in +nondescript clothes, but walking bravely in her +sensible shoes, and the tall untidy young man, +with his inexpressive body and face. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene did not attempt to explain to +herself this forward move in their intimacy. She +accepted it as a belated discovery of Roger's real +quality. But as they left the grass walk and +trudged through the busy rustling woods, still +not talking, Roger hit on a solution that satisfied +him. +</p> + +<p> +It's the link of succession, he decided; there +must be a link of either love or hate between +a person who is going to hand over the thing he +values most highly to someone who values it +too. And Aunt Sarah has neither hate nor resentment +for me, so that this particular situation +which might be painful is oddly enough quite +easy. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you thinking, Roger?" asked Mrs. Greene +suddenly. He turned his head to smile +down at her. +</p> + +<p> +"I was thinking how very comfortable we +were," he answered simply. +</p> + +<p> +"I thought that a few minutes ago. I'm very +comfortable altogether, Roger. Mary said to me +the other day that she thought I had no worries, +and really, you know, it's perfectly true." +</p> + +<p> +"How big exactly is the estate?" asked Roger +inconsequently. +</p> + +<p> +"Two thousand, five hundred and thirty-four +acres," Mrs. Greene answered precisely. +</p> + +<p> +"That ought to provide you with a worry or +two," suggested Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"No, it doesn't. I have occasional anxieties +but no real worries." +</p> + +<p> +They walked on in silence till Roger said +abruptly, "I hate London." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you do; everybody does really," +answered Mrs. Greene inattentively. +</p> + +<p> +Roger laughed and took her arm. +</p> + +<p> +"No they don't," he said. "That's nonsense. +They like it mostly. They feel safe living in a +sort of rabbit warren. They'd be terrified if you +set them down in a little cottage in an open +space." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose that's true," answered Mrs. Greene, +"but it seems incredible to me. Aren't +the woods lovely, Roger?" +</p> + +<p> +"They're perfectly lovely. You know I feel +I ought to be asking you all sorts of things but +instead I'm just enjoying myself." +</p> + +<p> +"So am I. I'm very fond of this path; I often +come down it." +</p> + +<p> +No faintest tinge of sadness broke their even +happiness though both were thinking of the +many hundreds of times that Mrs. Greene had +walked along the grass path, over the fields and +through the woods, and of the very few more +that would be added to the total. +</p> + +<p> +"It's quite dense here, isn't it?" said +Mrs. Greene, "and yet, you know, in a minute we'll +be in the meadow with the house in front of us." +</p> + +<p> +"I know; it always comes on you suddenly." +</p> + +<p> +As Roger spoke, a turn in the path brought +them out of the wood into full view of the +house. +</p> + +<p> +The sun streaming over Lynton turned its +austere grey facade to a mottled richness, and +the leaves of the Virginia creeper that was only +allowed to climb at the south-east corner licked +at the stone like little fiery tongues. The tall +chimneys, the tall narrow windows, gave to the +sober beauty of the house an airy effect of grace +and lightness that did not mar its steadfast +quality. Lynton was undoubtedly sound. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene and Roger had stopped at the +edge of the wood. For a moment the woman +who was about to leave Lynton and the man +who was about to enter it stood together on a +little hill and gazed greedily at it over the +intervening box hedge. Then they walked on, +through an opening in the hedge, over the lawn, +and in at a side door. +</p> + +<p> +"I want to find Hamilton this afternoon," +said Mrs. Greene after lunch. "He'll be in one +of two places. He always is on Sunday afternoons; +either in the wall-garden or the peach-house." +</p> + +<p> +"Doesn't he ever take a day off." +</p> + +<p> +"No, not really. Mrs. Hamilton is very +bad-tempered; gardeners' wives are always shrews +you'll find, and he never stays indoors if he can +help it." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if they're shrews because their +husbands are so placid, or if the husbands have +to be placid because the wives are shrews," +mused Roger. +</p> + +<p> +"I can tell you." Mrs. Greene spoke +decisively. "All good gardeners have easy-going +temperaments, so they have a fatal attraction +for domineering women.-" +</p> + +<p> +"I see. Hamilton is a good man, isn't he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Excellent; patient and enterprising, the two +best qualities in a gardener. If you're not tired +we'll go up to the garden now and look for +him." +</p> + +<p> +"Surely it's you who should be tired after +such a long walk?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, I'm in quite good training for +walking," answered Mrs. Greene serenely. +</p> + +<p> +Hamilton was discovered in the garden, leaning +with folded arms over the back of a seat, +looking gloomily at the bare rose-bushes. +</p> + +<p> +"Good afternoon, Ma'am, good afternoon +sir," he said straightening up as Mrs. Greene +and Roger approached. "This is a real untidy +wind." +</p> + +<p> +He frowned disapprovingly and relapsed +again into brooding silence. Roger looking at the +melancholy face above the white shirt with its +dotted blue stripe and stiff white collar +wondered if Mrs. Hamilton's tongue was the cause +of so much sorrow, or if pessimism as well as +placidity was inherent in the tribe of gardeners. +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted to have a chat with you about +Parks," Mrs. Greene was saying. "Do you feel +quite satisfied with him, Hamilton?" +</p> + +<p> +"He does his work well and thoroughly," +answered Hamilton cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +"But apart from that?" questioned Mrs. Greene. +</p> + +<p> +Hamilton took off his cap and gently +scratched his head before replying. Presently he +replaced the cap and pronounced heavily: +</p> + +<p> +"The flowers don't like him, Ma'am." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what I was afraid of," said Mrs. Greene, +"I don't think they grow for him." +</p> + +<p> +Roger felt amazed. I have an awful lot to +learn, he thought; I never realised that flowers +only grew for people they liked. I expect +Hamilton will heartily despise me. On an +impulse of propitiation he ventured to remark: +</p> + +<p> +"Surely it's very surprising that flowers +should grow for one person and not another in +the same garden, under the same conditions." +</p> + +<p> +Hamilton smiled pityingly and addressed +Mrs. Greene. +</p> + +<p> +"It's well seen that Mr. Dodds is not a +countryman," he said. Then turning to Roger +he added, "Plants are like children, sir; they +need handling. Ignorant persons or persons who +don't care enough about them can't handle them +proper." +</p> + +<p> +Roger was crushed, and at the same time +stimulated at the thought of what lay before +him. The immediate future was depressing. He +visualised the grimy badly-lit third-class +carriage, the inexplicable delays characteristic of +Sunday trains, the depressing arrival at Victoria. +But soon there would be no Sunday journeys; +he would come to Lynton to stay. +</p> + +<p> +A poignant sorrow filled him at the thought +that Aunt Sarah would not be there to enjoy it +with him; but her calmness, her air of acceptance, +had been infectious. Roger felt, as she +did, that regrets would be out of place; that +the rounding-off of her life, so nearly complete, +was merely an incident in the continuity of +Lynton. +</p> + +<p> +She was still talking about Parks and his +successor. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll tell him to look around, then, for a +month or two; there's no immediate hurry, +though I'd like it settled soon. And in the +meantime I'll ask Lady Langton about that man of +hers who's leaving her." +</p> + +<p> +"Parks'll be sorry to leave," said Hamilton +slowly. "People get attached to Lynton. There's +something about the place." +</p> + +<p> +"There is," answered Mrs. Greene, "there +certainly is. Well, we must get back to the house +now. Mr. Dodds is going up to town this evening." +</p> + +<p> +"That's a short visit this time, sir," said +Hamilton. "But then London people move +about more quickly than what we do." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to go," said Roger, anxious to +make it clear that not restlessness but sheer +necessity drove him back to London. "I'd much +rather stay on here, but I have to get back to +work." +</p> + +<p> +Hamilton became a little more cordial. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, goodbye, sir," he said, "We'll hope to +see you down again soon," and Roger felt childishly +elated at having wiped out the bad impression +made by his first comment. +</p> + +<p> +"He crushed me utterly, Aunt Sarah," he said +as soon as they were out of ear-shot. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Roger, he's always like that. It's +only his gloomy way of speaking, but I think he +likes you; he often asks after you." +</p> + +<p> +"I like him," said Roger, "but he alarms me." +</p> + +<p> +"He won't when you know him better; he's +really the mildest creature on the place. Now we +must hurry back; I want you to have a cup of +tea before you go." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll come to us on Thursday, then?" +asked Roger, as the car drove up to take him to +the station. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'd like to do that, but I'll come back +here on Saturday after Edith's party, and you +and Mary will come soon for a long visit, won't +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"We'd like to," answered Roger soberly. "It +would be good for Mary to be in the country +just now, and I'd like to be with you." +</p> + +<p> +"I know that, my dear boy—" Sarah Greene +lifted her face to be kissed—"And I've had a +delightful twenty-four hours with you." +</p> + +<p> +She came to the door with him and stood at +the top of the steps as he got into the car, one +hand resting lightly on the stone balustrade. +</p> + +<p> +At the turn of the drive, Roger looked back. +</p> + +<p> +The light was failing, and rooks were flying +over the chimneys to reach home before dusk +fell. Sarah Greene had come down the steps and +was standing, looking up at them with her head +thrown back as they flew over her roof. She +stood quite motionless and absorbed, and did not +notice when the car turned the corner and was +lost to sight. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS. RODNEY GREENE +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3> +MRS. RODNEY GREENE +</h3> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +The birth, growth and development of Edith +Beckett was in the nature of a prolonged prelude +to the life of Edith Greene. +</p> + +<p> +She was brought up with but one ideal: to be +a good wife and mother, and to set about being +the first, at least, at as early an age as possible. +This concentration on a single aim amply repaid +itself. +</p> + +<p> +When Edith married in 1900 she was equipped +with a complete knowledge of the usual faults +of the young married man, of the dangerous +tendencies which must be nipped in the bud by +his loving and protective wife, and of the special +points which she must remember to keep always +in mind when building up out of the faulty +material to hand a perfect specimen of the genus +"husband." +</p> + +<p> +She realised beforehand that even on the +honeymoon a young wife could not afford to +be contented with any lapse from these high +standards which it was her duty to impose upon +the man whom she had honoured with her hand; +one must begin as one meant to go on. +</p> + +<p> +In this Spartan mood Edith Beckett steeled +herself to marry Rodney Greene, and it is fair +to say that never once did she fall into the pitiful +weakness of condoning in silence any breach on +Rodney's part, of manners, morals, or good +behaviour. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +Their wedding was a successful one. Edith's +undeniable good looks showed to advantage in +their conventional setting of Chilly white satin, +stiffly wired orange blossom and floating veils. +</p> + +<p> +It was generally understood that the young +couple intended to spend their honeymoon on +the Continent, staying the first night at Dover, +but a proper atmosphere of mystification hid +their actual destination. +</p> + +<p> +After the last guest had departed, Mrs. Beckett, +subsiding into the nearest chair, indulged +in a few tears of mixed emotion and +fatigue. +</p> + +<p> +"Wasn't the dear child looking lovely?" she +said. "I thought the way she looked up at +Rodney when he put on the ring was just beautiful. +I told her to be sure and look up just then so +that everyone could see her profile, and even in +the midst of all the excitement she didn't +forget." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Beckett sighed contentedly. +</p> + +<p> +"Very nice indeed," answered Mr. Beckett. +"In fact it all went very well. Plenty of +champagne, wasn't there? I ordered an extra six +dozen to be on the safe side." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, well," said Mrs. Beckett inconsequently. +"Our little Edith's gone now. They +must be in the train. I just hope Rodney will +be good enough to her and take care of her." +</p> + +<p> +A glimpse into the carriage of the train, rushing +through the flat fields of Kent, would have +reassured Mrs. Beckett. +</p> + +<p> +Edith was leaning back restfully, very calm, +very pretty, while Rodney leaned forward from +the seat opposite and kissed her hand devotedly +in the intervals of conversation. +</p> + +<p> +"I really think it was a very pretty wedding." She +spoke with a satisfied intonation. "Everyone +admired my dress and thought my spray of +flowers much more original than a round +bouquet." +</p> + +<p> +"You were wonderful, my darling. When I +put the ring on and you looked up at me my +heart missed a beat." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Rodney," said Edith affectionately, +but suddenly her face stiffened. Rodney had +taken out his cigarette case and was actually +lighting a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +"Surely you aren't going to smoke now, +Rodney," she rebuked him. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you rather I didn't?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, much rather. I don't think this is the +time for smoking." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney threw away the cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, well," he said good-naturedly, "I expect +I can manage to wait till we get to Dover." +</p> + +<p> +"You're surely not dependent on a trivial +thing like a cigarette are you?" asked Edith, in +a slightly shocked voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I am; dreadfully dependent on all +sorts of trivial things. Cigarettes and you and +good cooking and a glass of port every night." +</p> + +<p> +He smiled at her, but her answering smile was +a little formal. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I know you're only teasing, Rodney, +but still there is a certain amount of truth +in what you say. I've noticed you are apt to rely +too much on things like smoking and port and +so on, and I've always been brought up to +believe that as soon as you feel yourself becoming +a slave to a habit you should drop it at once." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney looked blank for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't let's bother about that now," he said. +"Bad habits are very pleasant after all, and you +don't want to change me the minute you've +married me, do you?" +</p> + +<p> +He spoke lightly, but Edith answered in a +serious vein. +</p> + +<p> +"Not all at once, of course, dear, but I do +hope I shall be able to influence you a great +deal." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney missed the austere note in her voice, +and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you will," he said enthusiastically. +"You shall influence me as much as you like, +Mrs. Greene. I love you immensely and you +shall do just what you please." +</p> + +<p> +"No, but seriously, Rodney," persisted Edith. +"It isn't a case of doing what I please; we must +try to improve each other. A marriage where +both people don't improve is a failure." +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, you're quoting your mother, and +anyhow it's nonsense," said Rodney. "Besides I +want to kiss you." +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the journey was tranquil, and +in the bustle of sorting our their luggage +at the Station, Rodney forgot to light a +cigarette. It was with a genuine sigh of relief that +he followed Edith into their bedroom at the +hotel, strode over to the window, drew back the +curtains to look out over the dark harbour and +fumbled again for his cigarette case. Edith +noticed the gesture. She came and stood beside +him and gently took the case out of his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling Rodney," she said, "I know you +like me always to say what I think, even if it's +a little difficult." +</p> + +<p> +She stopped and Rodney flung an arm round +her and said encouragingly: +</p> + +<p> +"What is it, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +"I must say, Rodney, that it would seem to +me quite wrong and not respectful, for you to +smoke in my bedroom." +</p> + +<p> +"But hang it, darling, it's my bedroom, too," +Rodney expostulated. +</p> + +<p> +Edith blushed deeply. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, of course," she murmured. "Yes, in a +way it is, but still it wouldn't be quite nice for +you to smoke in it." +</p> + +<p> +Her confusion was attractive. Rodney felt an +ecstatic thrill at the thought that this was the +first time that they had shared a bedroom +together, and he held her to him and kissed her +passionately. +</p> + +<p> +But all Edith's rebukes did not lead to +kissing. When they returned from their +honeymoon Rodney found himself enmeshed in a net +of feminine dislikes, restrictions and vetoes. +</p> + +<p> +The details of Edith's campaign for mutual +improvement outlined themselves one by one; +but it struck Rodney as a little hard that on his +side the improvement was to be carried out by +definite acts of self-denial, by giving up old +habits and forming new ones, whereas on +Edith's side apparently the foundation was +perfectly sound, and all that was necessary was to +cultivate virtues already in existence. +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Edwin," he said to his brother +one evening, a few months after his marriage +and a few months before Edwin's, "there's a +Hell of a lot of difference between being a +bachelor and a married man. I never realised +how much I'd have to change. I used to think I +was pretty harmless, but according to Edith, +I'm a mass of poisonous habits. Not that she +isn't a wonderful woman," he added loyally, +"clever and capable and all that. But she +certainly has got a bee in her bonnet about drink +and smoking and language." +</p> + +<p> +"Women are like that," said Edwin gloomily. +"You know it's funny how helpless and bullied +Dora used to be, with old Mrs. Pilkington +giving her no end of a bad time, but now they +are running about together as thick as thieves, +choosing the furniture, choosing the house, and +if I happen to suggest anything you may be sure +it doesn't fit in with their scheme." +</p> + +<p> +"That's just it. They've always got a scheme. +Now Edith's scheme is that I should gradually +be weaned away from drink. You know how +little I drink, Edwin; less than most of the men +I know, but she thinks it's a habit and I'm a slave +to it or something like that, and you know I +believe she'd put one of those stinking pills +they're always advertising into my coffee if +she thought it would make me give up port." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin laughed morosely. +</p> + +<p> +"I can just see her dropping it in," he said. +"All for your own good, you know, and it pains +her more than you." +</p> + +<p> +His face grew serious, and he added rather +diffidently: "I say, Rodney, I haven't had an +awful lot of experience, you know; you might +just tell me, does Edith cry a lot?" +</p> + +<p> +"Cry?" repeated Rodney, looking startled. +"Oh, cry. No, she doesn't. Why, does Dora?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, yes she does, rather a lot. She bursts +into tears pretty easily and takes offence, but then +of course she's always had such a rotten time." +</p> + +<p> +"Edith takes offence a good deal, but she +doesn't cry. It makes her sort of cold and +dignified. In fact I think she feels she's getting on +with her self-improvement campaign when she +just reasons gently with me instead of getting +angry." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney suddenly felt guilty of disloyalty to +his good-looking and adequate wife. He adopted +the hearty tone of the happily married man and +clapped his brother on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Edith's all right," he said, "and you'll find +Dora'll be all right, too. Don't worry, Edwin; +things settle themselves nicely." +</p> + +<p> +That same evening he took a less optimistic +view. He was undressing slowly, sitting in his +shirt with one shoe in his hand, luxuriously +enjoying a cigarette, when Edith came into his +dressing-room. +</p> + +<p> +"May I come in, darling?" she asked, shutting +the door behind her without waiting for +permission. Rodney looked with pleasure at the +two long dark plaits falling over her pink +dressing gown, and at the white swansdown lying +softly at the base of her white throat. +</p> + +<p> +"Do," he answered heartily. "Do come and +sit down and talk to me; I know I'm being +slow." +</p> + +<p> +Edith bent to kiss him, but drew back with +a look of disgust. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Rodney," she said gently, "smoking +again! I thought we had arranged that all the +upper part of the house was to be kept free from +the dirt and smell of your cigarettes." +</p> + +<p> +"We never arranged anything of the sort. I +don't bring the dirt and smell as you call it into +your bedroom or the drawing-room, but damn +it, I don't see why I shouldn't occasionally smoke +a cigarette in my own dressing-room." +</p> + +<p> +"Just as you please, of course," said Edith +turning away. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't go like that," urged Rodney, putting +out the offending cigarette. "Surely it isn't +worth quarrelling about. +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't only that, Rodney," said Edith +gravely. "It's much more serious and fundamental +than that. Your language really horrifies +me, it's so terribly coarse." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney was aghast. +</p> + +<p> +"Coarse," he repeated, "how do you mean, +coarse?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, there you are, darling," said Edith +more kindly. "You see you don't even know +you've just sworn at me." +</p> + +<p> +"I never meant to swear at you, Edith. I'm +sorry if I did. But look here, dear, let's just talk +out once and for all, this matter of not smoking +upstairs. It really is nonsense that I shouldn't +smoke in my own dressing-room." +</p> + +<p> +Edith smiled tenderly on him and laid her +hand over his mouth. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't say any more," she urged, "I don't +want you to have anything to be sorry for +to-night, and I know that what I have to tell you +will make you look at things from my point of +view. Listen, dear; I came to tell you some +wonderful news: I don't know whether you've +looked ahead or not, and thought about all the +responsibility of having a child, but you'll have +to now, darling; you're going to be a father." +</p> + +<p> +Her voice dropped to a reverent whisper as +she added, "It's almost too marvellous to be +true, isn't it, Rodney?" +</p> + +<p> +Rodney's feelings were mixed. His genuine +pleasure at the thought of having a child was +impaired by Edith's manner of imparting the +news to him. He perceived already that the +child would be used as a goad to further Edith's +schemes for a less easy-going, more disciplined, +habit of life. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm very glad," he said heavily. "Dear +Edith." But even as he stood up on one +stockinged foot, to kiss her, he thought gloomily +that it was a little hard on him that an +extraneous circumstance should step in and win +Edith's battle for her. +</p> + +<p> +"You're really pleased, aren't you?" she +asked, and an unusual note of wistfulness in her +voice banished his resentment. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I am, my darling," he said +warmly. "I'm delighted. I'll toe the line all +right from now onwards. You won't catch me +smoking up here again I promise you." +</p> + +<p> +Edith unbent completely. The opposition had +wilted; she could afford to be generous. +</p> + +<p> +"Dearest Rodney," she said affectionately, +"you know how much I care for you. I only +speak about these depressing things because I +feel I ought to. And now I must go to bed." +</p> + +<p> +She disengaged herself gently from his arms, +and moved towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll come at once, won't you?" she said. +"I do get so tired of waiting while you loiter +over your undressing. Don't be long, dear." +</p> + +<p> +She shut the door quietly and Rodney hurried +out of his clothes into pyjamas, determined not +to risk another reproach merely for the pleasure +of ending the day in that atmosphere of contented +leisure which he found so congenial. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +III +</p> + +<p> +It was three years before Rodney fully appreciated +the fact that providence would always win +Edith's battles for her, and would moreover +give such a twist to her victory that the loser +was often obliged to admit that he had been +wrong. +</p> + +<p> +One year after their marriage, when their son +Geoffrey was a few weeks old, Rodney was still +fighting for supremacy in their common life. +</p> + +<p> +Edith was slow in recovering her strength; +she was at the stage of having breakfast in bed +and a long rest in the afternoon, and the doctor +advised her to go with the baby for a +change of air. At this juncture a letter arrived +from Rodney's mother inviting her daughter-in-law +and her new grandson for a long visit, +as soon as they were well enough to face the +journey. +</p> + +<p> +Rodney went cheerfully up to his wife's bedroom, +carrying the letter, and sat down on the +edge of her bed. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's a letter from Mother," he said. +"She wants you and the boy to go and stay for +as long as you can, just as soon as you are able. +Isn't that nice and convenient?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I don't quite know," answered Edith +slowly. "I wonder why she didn't write directly +to me." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no special reason; I suppose she just +happened to be writing to me so she asked me to +send you down to her for a bit, and really it fits +in very well; the doctor seems to want you to go +to the country for a week or two." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh I see," said Edith, "it's quite a casual +invitation, is it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I don't quite know what you mean by +casual. You know Mother is awfully keen to +see the baby, and you know she hasn't been well +enough to come to town, so in the circumstances +it seems to me very natural. Shall I write for +you and say you'll be delighted to go next +week?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, don't do that, dear," said Edith firmly. +"I'm not quite sure that it would be the wisest +thing to do. As you say, your Mother hasn't +been well, and I'm not very strong yet, so it +would really be rather a houseful of invalids." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you need worry about that. +Mother's perfectly all right now; it was only a +sort of serious chill, I believe, and I know she +wants to see the little chap." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, of course she does," Edith's voice was +rather noticeably patient. "But I'm really not +convinced that it would be a good thing to go +there now." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense, Edith," said Rodney, "I don't +know what all this fuss is about; of course it's +the obvious thing to do, but we won't discuss it +now. There's no need to write to Mother at +once." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, Rodney dear," said Edith coldly +and submissively, and the subject was +temporarily closed. +</p> + +<p> +That evening Edith developed, along with a +severe headache, a slight rise in temperature. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I'd like to ring up the doctor, +Mr. Greene, if you don't mind," said the monthly +nurse. "Of course baby is three weeks old and +Mrs. Greene is really nearly well again, but still +I don't like her temperature going up." +</p> + +<p> +"Please do ring him up, Nurse," urged Rodney. +"It's worrying; I can't think why she should +get a feverish headache like this." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't quite understand it either," admitted +the nurse, "Mrs. Greene has been looking +worried and not herself all day, but I know of +nothing to account for it." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney's heart sank. He was oppressed by +grim forebodings, and it was no surprise to him +when the doctor came downstairs after examining +Edith and said to him: +</p> + +<p> +"Well, there's nothing much wrong, Mr. Greene; +only a nervous headache and a little +fever, but I'm afraid you'll have to give up this +plan of yours that Mrs. Greene is worrying +herself into fits about." +</p> + +<p> +"What plan?" asked Rodney dully. +</p> + +<p> +"I understand from Mrs. Greene that you +wanted to rush her down to the country to show +the baby to its grandmother." +</p> + +<p> +"That wasn't quite the idea," explained Rodney. +"I understood on the other hand that you +wanted my wife to have a change of air, and my +Mother very kindly asked her to go down to +their place for a bit." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh yes, I see. But I'm afraid it won't quite +do. Mrs. Greene has worked herself into a state +of nervous excitement about it. But I shouldn't +worry; there's very often a feeling of strain +between a young woman and her mother-in-law +that works itself out in time, and of course +Mrs. Greene is sensitive and highly strung." +</p> + +<p> +"Highly strung?" queried Rodney, "Edith +you mean? But she's the calmest, most +determined person I've ever seen." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor was putting on his gloves. +</p> + +<p> +"Quite so," he agreed. "A splendid patient; +lots of self-control, but very sensitive none the +less, and I think you'll be well advised to give +way to her over this. Goodnight, Mr. Greene." +</p> + +<p> +He hurried out, and Rodney sat down to +write to his mother. +</p> + +<p> +While Edith was at Bognor with the nurse +and baby, Mrs. Greene had a second and more +serious attack of pain which proved to be not a +chill, but appendicitis, necessitating an +immediate operation. Edith's first letter to her +husband was full of sympathy for his anxiety; her +second expressed pleasure at her mother-in-law's +recovery; but on her return she could not +refrain from saying: "And wasn't it a blessing, +darling, that you finally abandoned your +absurd plan of sending us to your Mother for a +rest?" +</p> + +<p> +To which Rodney could only answer lamely: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, as things turned out I suppose it was +a good thing you didn't go." +</p> + +<p> +Two years after their marriage he no longer +attempted to impose his wishes on Edith, but he +still fought to protect his own liberty of action. +In the house, in all matters pertaining to it, and +in the conduct of their joint life, he deferred to +her completely. He still, however, insisted on +an annual fishing holiday without her, he +frequented his club in spite of her disapproval, and +he was loyal to several friendships which she +deplored. +</p> + +<p> +It was over one of these that Providence again +played a hand for Edith. +</p> + +<p> +Her opening gambit was tentative. Rodney +came home one evening with a healthy colour in +his cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +"There's spring in the air to-night," he said. +"I walked all the way home and it was fine. By +jove, I'll soon have to begin looking out my rods +if I'm going to get ready for Easter." +</p> + +<p> +"You're not going with Jim Turner again +this year, are you?" asked Edith gravely. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I haven't said anything to him lately; +I haven't seen him at the club as a matter of +fact, but of course it's an understood thing +between us that if we can get away, we go off +together in April for a week or so." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think he can possibly expect your +company this year," said Edith firmly. +</p> + +<p> +Rodney looked at her cautiously. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know why you should say that," he +said, "Of course Jim will be expecting me to +join up with him." +</p> + +<p> +Edith plunged into her subject. +</p> + +<p> +"Have you considered at all that if you go +away with him it will look as if you approved of +his conduct these last few months." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what you mean," mumbled +Rodney, "I've known old Jim for years, and +he's all right." +</p> + +<p> +"But you must know that he's been making +his wife very unhappy all this winter." +</p> + +<p> +"I know she makes him pretty unhappy; she's +a hard-mouthed, bitter-looking creature." +</p> + +<p> +Edith's colour heightened. +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Rodney," she said, "you force me +to be indelicate, and to speak plainly. Do you +not know that Jim Turner has been behaving +disgracefully with an actress." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney looked uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want to know anything about his +private affairs," he said. "Jim's a jolly good +sort anyhow, and, what's more, I'd like to know +how you got hold of all this stuff about him and +his actress." +</p> + +<p> +"It's enough that I do know," said Edith +seriously. "Women are loyal to each other, +Rodney. I never can understand why people say +we have no sense of honour. It's really most +unfair. Women tell each other everything and +help each other whenever they can." +</p> + +<p> +"Well I hope to heaven nobody will go bleating +to Mrs. Turner about Jenny Eaves, that's +all," said Rodney. "Jim's got enough to put up +with already, God knows." +</p> + +<p> +Edith was quick to perceive his admission, +but she let the subject drop for the moment. A +few days later, having cogitated the matter from +various angles, she asked Mrs. Turner to tea +and added mysteriously to her note of invitation, +"I'm anxious to have a little private talk with +you. There is something I feel you ought to +know, and though it is a difficult topic for me to +touch on, I feel I must make the effort to do +so." +</p> + +<p> +In writing this note Edith was actuated by +perfectly pure motives. Her own words as to the +honourableness of her sex had resounded +pleasantly in her ears. Thinking the matter over +afterwards it seemed to her no less than her +duty, if rumours were gathering unpleasantly +round Jim Turner's name, to repeat them to his +wife, in order that Mrs. Turner might scotch +them by some decisive action. +</p> + +<p> +Only one form of decisive action occurred to +Edith. She assumed that Mrs. Turner would +behave as she, Edith Greene, would behave in a +similar predicament—though such a thing was +almost unimaginable. She would deal +summarily with her husband, pointing out where +his duty lay, and emphasising the necessity for +a clean break from temptation in the form of +the actress, and she would then arrange to be +seen about on good terms with her husband, in +public and at the houses of their various friends. +The whole thing would then blow over, and +Edith Greene decided that in that case Rodney +would not be condoning a moral wrong by going +for his usual holiday with Jim Turner. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Turner came to tea. She chatted pleasantly +till she had drunk a cup of tea and eaten a +sandwich, and then, laying down her cup, she +came straight to the point. +</p> + +<p> +"I think you wanted to speak to me about +something," she said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +"I do, Mrs. Turner," answered Edith. "It is +extremely awkward for me to do so; I don't +even know you very well, but it seemed to me +that as an acquaintance I owed it to you to +repeat to your face what people are saying +behind your back." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Turner stiffened. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed," she said. "And what are people +saying behind my back?" +</p> + +<p> +Edith answered courageously. +</p> + +<p> +"There is a great deal of gossip centring +round your husband's name," she said. "You +probably know nothing about it; the wife is +often the last person to hear of these things. +People suspect him of having an affair with an +actress; in fact it is more than a suspicion. He +has been seen about everywhere with this Miss +Eaves, and my husband says he never even sees +him at lunch at the club nowadays." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Turner rose. She was pale and her +mouth was drawn into a thin line. +</p> + +<p> +"I had no idea of this," she said. "Thank you, +Mrs. Greene, for telling me so much; I shall +find out the truth and take steps about it at once. +Believe me, I am grateful to you." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so glad you take it like that," said Edith +cordially. "It was a very painful thing to speak +about, but I felt it was the best thing to do, so I +just took my courage in both hands." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Turner ceremoniously took her leave, +and Edith was conscious of the pleasant feeling +of having carried out well an unpleasant duty, +but the steps taken by Mrs. Turner proved +not to be what she had so confidently anticipated. +</p> + +<p> +She heard the results of her well-meant +interference a week later. Rodney came home +looking depressed, and sat in a glum silence all +evening. +</p> + +<p> +"What's wrong, Rodney?" asked Edith finally. +</p> + +<p> +"Well I saw Jim at the club to-day at lunch, +and there's been a hellish bust up. It seems some +woman went and told Mrs. Turner about that +affair of his, and she went poking about a bit, +and found out it had been pretty serious and so +on, and now it's all up. She's left the house, +and she's been to her solicitors and is going to +divorce him. It's a sickening business; Jim is +very cut up about it all." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney smiled bleakly. "Anyhow you'll be +pleased," he said. "It puts the lid on our holiday +all right; I don't think I'll go myself now." +</p> + +<p> +Edith's eyes had widened with dismay at his +first words, and as he went on her breathing +grew hurried and her lips parted in an expression +of annoyance and perturbation. She was +sincerely upset. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Rodney," she said, "I'm very sorry +indeed about this, especially as I am the woman +you refer to who spoke to Mrs. Turner." +</p> + +<p> +"By God, Edith," said Rodney angrily. +"What the devil did you do that for? You've +made a frightful mess of things." +</p> + +<p> +"Do be calm, Rodney," urged Edith, her +self-possession returning as she prepared to justify +herself. "I had no option but to speak to +Mrs. Turner. After all I had heard it would have +been utterly base to have let things slide when a +word might have helped to mend them." +</p> + +<p> +"I simply don't understand you Edith; +you're talking like an imbecile. You've never +liked Jim Turner; you didn't want me to go +away with him; and now that you've succeeded +in putting a spoke in his wheel, you say it would +have been utterly base to do anything else; +you're beyond my understanding." +</p> + +<p> +Edith stood up indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +"You entirely misjudge me," she said. "I +acted from the purest motives in doing this very +unpleasant thing, and indeed, Rodney, you +ought to know me well enough to realise that a +petty personal consideration like your going +away with Mr. Turner against my wishes, +would never have influenced me either way." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney looked at her; she returned his gaze +steadily, and he knew that she was convinced of +her own sincerity. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry," he said heavily. "I think you +were terribly wrong in what you did, but I know +you meant well." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Rodney," she answered. "It's +generous of you to admit that at least; and I +should like to say that I'm sorry things have +turned out as they have. But you know, dear, I +can't help feeling that since Mr. Turner's affair +had apparently gone to such a shocking length, +it is perhaps only right that it should be exposed." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney made no answer; he only shrugged +his shoulders and sat staring in front of him, his +drooping attitude indicating acute mental depression. +</p> + +<p> +Edith drew up a low chair, sat down beside +him, captured one of his hands and patted it +gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't worry, my dear," she said, "I have a +delightful plan. Instead of going off by yourself, +why not take me with you this year. I can +leave Geoffrey with Nurse, and we would +thoroughly enjoy our few days together, just you +and I." +</p> + +<p> +Her voice was persuasive, her expression +appealing, and the flickering fire lit up her rich +colouring and wide dark eyes. Looking at her +clear dark beauty Rodney felt that he could +certainly enjoy a holiday with her and he +pushed away the thought of Jim's betrayal as he +put his arms round her and said enthusiastically, +"I'd like it immensely, darling; we'll go where +you like and when you like." +</p> + +<p> +Three years after their marriage he was +surprised to find how easy it was to let Edith +arrange their life and dispose of his leisure as +she pleased. Her looks were a constant delight +to him; her manner in general was restful, and +their relationship was smooth and effortless so +long as he never opposed her. On the rare +occasions when he did, he always half expected +some unforeseen hazard to intervene on Edith's +behalf; he had ceased to expect a fair deal. +</p> + +<p> +When in 1904 she expressed a desire to move +to a larger house he demurred on the grounds of +expense and ostentation. +</p> + +<p> +"I think we owe it to ourselves to have a +better setting now," said Edith. "And really +dear, you must acknowledge that we can easily +afford it." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I don't know about that. Business +isn't bad of course, but a move is an expensive +thing. I'd rather leave it for a year or +two." +</p> + +<p> +"Now darling, don't be difficult about it," +said Edith playfully. "I'm quite determined to +take the house in Sussex Square; it's just right +in every way." +</p> + +<p> +"So you've even found the house we're to go +to have you?" asked Rodney a little bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +Edith blushed. "I suppose it is rather tiresome +of me to have chosen it myself, but I do +like to save you worry, dear, and after all the +house is my province and the business yours." +</p> + +<p> +She smiled coaxingly, but Rodney shook his +head. +</p> + +<p> +"No Edith," he said, "I'm sorry, but I won't +do it this year. Our income doesn't justify it, +and we'll do very well as we are." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course we will if you have quite decided +against a move; you're sure you wouldn't just +like to look at the Sussex Square house?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm quite sure," said Rodney emphatically, +and Edith laughed good-humouredly and only +answered, "Well, that settles it, of course." +</p> + +<p> +But a few weeks later she came into his +dressing-room one night and settled herself +comfortably in an armchair. +</p> + +<p> +"Rodney dear," she began, "I have something +to tell you. We're going to have another child, +and I think that really does mean we must move +to the bigger house we were talking of the other +day." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney felt a definite sensation of shock as +if some familiar string had been twanged in his +brain. As he congratulated Edith and expressed +his own gratification his thoughts were racing +madly, but it was not till Edith left the room, +looking back from the door to say with a plaintive +accent, "Do hurry up, darling," that he +remembered the incident of three years ago. +</p> + +<p> +It was difficult to imagine that there had ever +been a time when he had smoked upstairs, but +for a moment the parallel stood out sharply; +both occasions had been used by Edith to gain +some small point, and to establish her ascendancy +over him. As the recollection faded into +dimness he smiled contentedly. Edith had +consolidated her position as good wife and good +mother, the naturally dominant factor in the +home. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +IV +</p> + +<p> +The portrait entitled, "Mrs. Rodney Greene +with Geoffrey, Lavinia and Hugh," exhibited +in the Academy of 1910, was much admired by +the public and favourably commented on by the +Press. Edith herself, looking at it hung in her +own dining-room after it had been returned +from Burlington House, felt her eyelids prick +with sudden tears at the revelation of her own +triumphant motherhood. +</p> + +<p> +She had been painted in a wine-red gown, +sitting in a high-backed chair with her face +turned a little sideways and downwards, +brooding tenderly over Lavinia and Hugh who stood +at her left knee, while her right arm was thrown +affectionately round Geoffrey's shoulders, as if +to compensate for the fact that she had turned +away from where he stood on the right. +</p> + +<p> +All three children were in white: Geoffrey +and Hugh in sailor suits, Lavinia in a softly +hanging silk dress. All three were upright and +dark, with clear soft colour in their cheeks, but +whereas both the boys were gazing out of the +canvas, with serious dreaming faces, Lavinia had +looked up at her mother, and her lips were +parted in a smile over her small first teeth. +</p> + +<p> +This happy, unstudied little pose was the +starting point of all Edith's comments on the +portrait, until the day when Mrs. Hugh Greene, +her husband's aunt, came to tea and asked to +have it shown to her. +</p> + +<p> +"I only went once to the Academy this summer," +she explained, "and though of course I +saw the portrait and admired it very much, I +should certainly like to see it again." +</p> + +<p> +"It looks very nice in the dining-room," +Edith answered as they went downstairs. "In +fact we are extremely pleased with it, though I +think perhaps it flatters me a little." She laughed +deprecatingly. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't think that when I saw it," +Mrs. Hugh answered simply. "You are very +good-looking, my dear." +</p> + +<p> +At thirty-one Edith Greene was strikingly +handsome. Tall, robust, but not yet giving the +impression of set solidity that increasingly +marred her looks, she carried herself so well +that the florid fashions of 1910 did not spoil the +lines of her figure. Her colouring was lovely: +dark hair and dark eyes deepened by the steady, +warm glow in her cheeks; and her features were +well marked but not heavy, though the mouth +was set in lines of command and resolution. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hugh looking at the portrait of Edith +and her children, and then turning to look at +Edith standing by her side, noticed this accent of +command, of over-emphasised self-confidence, +but she only said, "Yes, I think it is an excellent +piece of work." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course Lavinia is really the keynote of +the whole thing," Edith began eagerly. "You +see how she's turned her little head to smile up +at me, and how confident she looks. That was +quite spontaneous. She was posed looking straight +ahead like the boys, but at the second sitting she +just put herself like that. It seemed almost a +tribute to me, Aunt Sarah; it's wonderful when +your child shows its confidence and love." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I see," said Mrs. Hugh. "Lavinia is +certainly a dear gay little creature." +</p> + +<p> +"Would you call her expression gay?" asked +Edith, disappointed. "It seems much more than +that to me." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs Hugh turned to Edith. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear," she said, "I don't approve of +interfering and giving advice, and I've got no +children of my own, so I'm really not qualified +to speak, but I've sometimes wondered if you're +not perhaps a little greedy with your children." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke gently, but the word struck Edith +like a blow. Her face flushed deeply, but she +answered coldly and politely: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think I quite understand you, Aunt +Sarah." +</p> + +<p> +"You're an excellent mother, I know," said +Mrs. Hugh, "And you must just forgive me for +criticising you, but my dear, I think perhaps you +enjoy too much the mere fact of being a mother, +and that is apt to make you expect too much +from your children; not too much affection of +course, but too much faith and admiration." +</p> + +<p> +"I think it only natural to encourage my +children to have faith in me." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you do, but let them know you're +fallible, Edith. It only makes for unhappiness +to bring them up to believe you are always right. +It isn't natural." +</p> + +<p> +"I would think it more unnatural if they +didn't trust their mother, Aunt Sarah." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Edith, you don't quite understand +me. I'm only hoping that on the one hand you'll +let them develop along their own lines, and that +on the other hand you won't take their natural +love for you as anything so important as a +tribute; I think that was the word you used." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps it isn't quite easy for us to understand +each other on the subject of my feelings +for my children. Shall we go upstairs now?" +</p> + +<p> +Edith's voice was icy, but Mrs. Hugh was not +daunted by her niece's obvious, though +controlled annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she said briskly, "I'm going now. I +suppose it's only natural you should resent what +I've said, but think it over, Edith; there's +something in it." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hugh retired in good trim, but Edith +was unable to sooth the sting left by her +criticism. +</p> + +<p> +"By the way, Rodney," she began at dinner, +"Aunt Sarah was at tea to-day, and I thought +her manner most odd." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you mean, 'odd'? She always seems +to me to be full of common sense." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, first of all she asked to see the +portrait, and then quite suddenly she attacked me +about putting myself on a pedestal and expecting +too much from them." +</p> + +<p> +"That sounds very unlike her; she doesn't +often butt in." +</p> + +<p> +"I certainly consider that she did to-day. And +as a matter of fact, Rodney, I've thought once +or twice that she and your mother are both a +little sneering and contemptuous about the way I +bring up the children." +</p> + +<p> +"Absolute rot I call that. Mother's simply +devoted to all three of them." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but that's not the point," objected Edith. +"I know she likes the children, but I'm not sure +that she approves of my attitude to them." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know anything about that," said +Rodney uncomfortably. +</p> + +<p> +"No, but don't you see it's a little hard on +me? I have always had such a high ideal of +motherhood. I've always tried to live up to it, +and I do feel I'm justified so far by the results, +but neither your mother nor your Aunt Sarah +looks at is quite fairly." +</p> + +<p> +"I think it's a bit difficult for them to appreciate +all you do for the kids. Outsiders can only +see that you do rather expect all three of them to +bow down and worship you, don't you Edith?" +</p> + +<p> +Rodney's words were softened by his smile, +but Edith's calm was shattered. +</p> + +<p> +"You're most unjust," she said hotly and +confusedly. "I've never had any idea of such a +thing. It's a ridiculous phrase to use to me, +simply because I hope for a little love and faith +from my children, and because I try to influence +them in what I think is the right direction. But +you will never take it seriously enough, Rodney; +it's a constant grief to me that you take their +upbringing so lightly." +</p> + +<p> +"Now that is unfair, Edith. I think a lot +about their education, but while they are still in +the nursery they are in your hands. However, +now the point has arisen I might as well say that +I do think it would be better if you left them +alone a bit more." +</p> + +<p> +"Rodney!" Edith's voice was trembling with +anger. "What do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think they ought to be allowed to think +things out for themselves sometimes, and not +have to tell you everything and have you discuss +it with them. Geoffrey especially; he's quite a +big fellow now, he oughtn't to be tied to your +apron-strings any longer." +</p> + +<p> +Edith rose and pushed back her chair. +</p> + +<p> +"This is really too much," she said passionately. +"First Aunt Sarah, and now you, attacking +the things I hold most dear. You must excuse +me if I go upstairs; I'm too upset to eat any +more dinner." +</p> + +<p> +She left the room, her head held high, and +went up to the day nursery, where Geoffrey was +having his supper, with a book propped up in +front of him. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling," she said sweeping in, her pale +frock trailing, "shall I come and sit with you for +a little, while you finish your supper?" +</p> + +<p> +As Geoffrey pushed the book away and edged +his cocoa forward, she frowned. +</p> + +<p> +"You're not supposed to read at meals, not +even at supper," she said sharply. "I've told you +that before, haven't I, Geoffrey?" +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling," she went on, unconsciously introducing +a grieved note into her voice, "you don't +like to vex me I know, but it does vex me +when you go against my wishes, and still +more when you won't admit to me that you are +wrong." +</p> + +<p> +"I like reading," said Geoffrey rebelliously, +"and it's only a few minutes anyhow." +</p> + +<p> +"But that doesn't make it any less wrong. +You know that, Geoffrey." +</p> + +<p> +Again there was no answer, and Edith sighed. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what makes you so unresponsive," +she reproached him. "It's only this last +few months that you've persistently opposed me. +You used to confide in me and trust me, like +Hugh and Lavinia." +</p> + +<p> +"They're only babies," muttered Geoffrey, +awkward and embarrassed. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean that because you're a big boy +and go to school you feel you can't be open with +me any longer?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said Geoffrey wearily. +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest boy, it's all so simple," Edith +spoke persuasively. "I must be the judge of what +is best for you; you must remember I'm your +mother." She drew herself up with dignity, and +went on, "You can surely understand, dear, that +I must know all that my children are doing and +thinking so that I can guide them. Now tell me +you were wrong, Geoffrey, and hurry into bed." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry," said Geoffrey. "Good-night, +Mother." He raised his face to be kissed, but +she knew that he had not capitulated; he had +merely eluded her. +</p> + +<p> +So far the nursery had not proved as soothing +as she had hoped. She went into the night +nursery where Lavinia and Hugh were sleeping, +and turned on the light. Everything was in +order. A little pile of clothes was neatly folded +on the rush-bottomed, white-painted chair +beside each small bed; the curtains were undrawn; +the window open just enough to make the room +fresh and sweet. Edith's forehead smoothed +itself as she looked about and was satisfied. The +small sleepers never stirred; they lay +hygienically without pillows, breathing quite correctly +through their noses. +</p> + +<p> +Edith felt reassured and quieted. She +remembered how difficult it had been for nearly +a year to induce Lavinia to go to sleep without +sucking a thumb, and how she, alone, had +persevered in the attempt to break this habit which +nurse was confident would cure itself in time. +</p> + +<p> +This small fact led to a train of thought that +restored her shattered prestige. She remembered +numberless instances when she had been obliged +to exercise tact and perseverance to eradicate +some budding trait in one or other of the +children. She had noticed Hugh's adenoids before +the possibility of trouble in the nose had occurred +to nurse. It was she, and not Rodney who dealt +with Geoffrey's tendency to deceit and subterfuge, +and who was always called upon to arbitrate +in any childish difficulty. +</p> + +<p> +Turning off the light she went back to the day +nursery where nurse was sitting darning. +</p> + +<p> +"Nurse," she said firmly, "I've said before +that Geoffrey is not to read at supper and +to-night again I found him with a book." +</p> + +<p> +"Well he only had one page to finish the +book, Mrs. Greene, so I thought it wouldn't +matter for once." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe in that, Nurse," said Edith +serenely. "If I make a rule then it is a rule, and +there should be no exceptional cases when you +allow it to be broken." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry," said Nurse stiffly, and Edith +went down to the drawing-room where Rodney +was sitting, holding a paper, but looking guiltily +over the top of it at the door, evidently expecting +her entrance. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Rodney," she said, "I have been +very foolish. It was absurd of me to let myself +be vexed by what you said. I know very well +that it is only because you cannot possibly enter +into my feelings, that you misunderstand and +misrepresent me." +</p> + +<p> +Rodney was at a loss. He had been prepared +to retract his words but there appeared to be no +need to do so. They had already been +discounted. He cleared his throat, trying to +think of an appropriate and inoffensive +reply, but Edith continued her elaborate little +speech. +</p> + +<p> +"I ought to realise by now that nobody can +share in a mother's responsibility to her +children; nobody can appreciate her ideals." +</p> + +<p> +"Well that's putting it a bit strong, you know; +after all even a mother is a human being," Rodney +spoke with an accent of faint bitterness, but +Edith was unperturbed. +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Rodney," she said, "we are a very +happy and united family aren't we? I've just +been up to the three little people—Hugh and +Lavinia sleeping so sweetly—and I feel I need +no reward for all I do for them except the +consciousness that I mean everything to them. +That," she ended nobly, "is all that is necessary +to a good mother." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +V +</p> + +<p> +As her three children grew older, Edith +consciously and tactfully modified her attitude +towards them. They had been so accustomed to +deferring to her judgment, they had seen their +father so constantly adopting her views, and +praises of their wonderful mother had rung so +continually in their ears that when Geoffrey was +eighteen, Lavinia sixteen, and Hugh fifteen, +they still kept up the habits of childhood in +never opposing her. +</p> + +<p> +She could afford by that time to make a show +of consulting them, to appear to ask their advice, +safe in the conviction that her choice would +ultimately be theirs also. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey had certainly come through a period +of alienation from her, which had shown itself +in subterranean rebelliousness, and surface +rudeness, but he had not been proof against her two +weapons: the deadly use of personal sorrow, +and a skilful trick of light ridicule. +</p> + +<p> +She had seldom been angry with any of the +children; it had been enough to induce into her +face an expression of pain, into her voice a deep +note of suffering, as she said, "Lavinia, dear," +or "Hugh, dear" as the case might be, "I'm sure +you don't realise how you've wounded me, but +we won't talk of it any more; have it your own +way." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh and Lavinia desperately conscious of +having estranged a mother so beneficent that she +would withhold her power and suffer silently, +almost invariably gave in immediately for the +pure pleasure of sunning themselves once again +in her favour. With Geoffrey during what she +called "his difficult years," it was otherwise. +Sentiment did not move him, but he could not +stand up to her gentle, unerring sarcasm, her +faculty of being always in the right, and smiling +at him as he found himself put in the wrong over +some point on which he was convinced he had +justice on his side. +</p> + +<p> +There was one occasion on which Geoffrey +appealed to his father, but Rodney's reply was +final: "Your mother's wishes must be considered, +Geoffrey; I could not go against them and I +can't imagine that you would care to." +</p> + +<p> +That ended the matter. Geoffrey recognised +that his mother had absolute authority over the +household, and as he matured he gradually grew +to recognise too that after all, even if she were +inexorable and unassailable, still, life went +smoothly, and so long as her sway was +unquestioned the family atmosphere was an entirely +happy one. +</p> + +<p> +He came near to understanding her attitude +the year he left school and was about to go up +to the University. It had always been an +understood thing that on leaving Oxford, Geoffrey +should join his father in the engineering works +founded originally by his great-grandfather, +and carried on by his great-uncle Hugh. A +few months before his first term began Hugh +Greene died suddenly and Rodney Greene +asked his son to enter the firm at once. +</p> + +<p> +This was a great delight to Edith. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear boy," she said, "I can't tell you +how happy I am that you'll be at home with me +now for a few years. I know it's a +disappointment to you, but it is a pleasure to your +mother." +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't you want me to go up to Oxford, +then?" Geoffrey asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I did in one way, but now I feel +I'll have three extra years of you, and then later +on when you marry, as I expect you will, I shall +still have Lavinia and Hugh, but now while +they are both away at school I'd have been very +lonely." +</p> + +<p> +"I never really thought of that." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you didn't," Edith patted his +hand. "One's children never do, you know, and +mothers learn to be put on one side without any +fuss." +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Mother, sometimes you talk as +if we were frightfully important to you. Are we +really?" +</p> + +<p> +Edith looked astounded. +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest Geoffrey," she said at last, +"Your father and you three are all I care about +in life; all I work for and plan for. Since I +married, my one thought has been to be a good +wife and mother and I think I can say I've +succeeded." +</p> + +<p> +She paused, but Geoffrey did not pay her the +expected compliment. He was frowning over his +thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +"It doesn't seem quite sound to me; tell me, +Mother, haven't you ever had anything of your +own in your life?" +</p> + +<p> +"But, darling, what could be more my own +than my dear husband and children?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean quite like that. Father is different, +of course, but take the three of us. After +all, we've our own lives to lead. There are all +sorts of things ahead of us, belonging only to +us. I really meant, haven't you any interests of +your own, intellectual or social or something +quite apart from us?" +</p> + +<p> +Edith shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she said gravely, "I've never been +either a bluestocking or a frivolous woman. I +can truthfully say that all my interests are +wrapped up in you four." +</p> + +<p> +"It sounds dangerous to me," was Geoffrey's +abrupt comment. +</p> + +<p> +"Dangerous, Geoffrey? My dear boy, you're +all at sea. When you talk of having things in +the future belonging only to you, it just shows +me how little you understand. Listen, dear. +You're all three part of me; I've thought about +you and loved you since you were tiny, helpless +babies. I've watched your characters unfold and +guided you this way and that, and whatever you +do in the future will always belong, in part, to +me. So long as I live you'll be my little son, +and I'll be sharing your life." +</p> + +<p> +"I see," said Geoffrey, "It's difficult to +understand how you can feel like that about us, but +anyhow I do see that you feel it." +</p> + +<p> +"Wait a few years," Edith smiled. "When +you're a father you'll understand me better, +though of course," she added, "a mother's +claim is always the greatest." +</p> + +<p> +This conversation made a deep impression on +Geoffrey. He was surprised to find how repugnant +to him was the idea that his life was +inseparably bound up with his mother's, entangled +in her cloying web of affection, hopes and +expectations. But he realised that he could never +make his feelings clear to her; no words, +however brutal, could establish him as a separate +and independent entity; she would only suffer a +little at the thought that Geoffrey was going +through another of his "difficult times." +</p> + +<p> +Determined to spare himself and her that +awkwardness, Geoffrey no longer rebelled +against her gentle interference, but accepted it +pleasantly and then quietly pursued his own +ideas. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia, vivid, sensitive, and almost always +amenable, was the only one who after reaching +years of discretion flamed into open defiance, +and tried to express some of the dumb +imprisoned resentment, that all three felt. +Providence, however, stepped in once more, and won +for Edith so pretty a victory, that in retrospect +the battle-field seemed like a daisied meadow. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia was nineteen, and had been at home +for a year. The whole affair blew up out of a +chance invitation to a dance, which Edith was +anxious for Lavinia to accept. +</p> + +<p> +"I really don't want to go, Mother," she said. +"I don't know them at all, or any of their +friends, and I'll have a rotten time. They haven't +even asked me to take a partner." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, they did ask Geoffrey; it really is +very unfortunate that he has to be away that +night. But Lavinia dear, you really needn't +worry; I know Lady Olivia quite well, even +though you don't know the family, and I'm +perfectly sure she will see that you have lots of +partners. Besides it's a nice house for you to +go to." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't understand in the least, Mother," +Lavinia expostulated, "One doesn't go to dances +like that nowadays, to be handed over like a +brown paper parcel, to a different man for every +dance. If you do go to a party out of your own +set, you must at least take a partner." +</p> + +<p> +"You know, dear, you're being a little unreasonable. +I like Lady Olivia and I think this habit +of always dancing with the same few men is +being overdone: I don't approve of it at all. +Now say no more like a good child, I know +you'll enjoy yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"I really can't go," repeated Lavinia obstinately. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, dear," said Edith, turning away. +</p> + +<p> +The subject was not reopened till the evening +of the dance when Lavinia going up to dress for +dinner found her white chiffon frock and her +white brocade cloak laid out on her bed. She +rang for the maid whose services she shared with +her mother. +</p> + +<p> +"What are these things for, Stacy?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Greene told me you would want your +white dress to-night for the dance, Miss +Lavinia." +</p> + +<p> +"What dance, did Mrs. Greene say?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think she said it was Lady Olivia Yorke's, +Miss, but I'm not sure." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh I see, thank you, that's all right, then." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia's cheeks were scarlet, but her eyes were +stony. She stood for a moment clutching the +frock in her hot hand, then laid it carefully +back on the bed and went downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +On the way she met Rayner, the butler who +had been with them for the last ten years, +coming up. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you tell me what time you will need +the car, Miss Lavinia? Mrs. Greene said you +were going out this evening." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not quite sure, Rayner," Lavinia spoke +steadily, "I'll tell you at dinner. Has Mother +gone up to dress, yet?" +</p> + +<p> +"No Miss, not yet." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Rayner," Lavinia went into the +library where Edith was sitting at her desk, and +quietly closed the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother," she said seriously, "did you refuse +that invitation for me for Lady Olivia's dance?" +</p> + +<p> +"No dear, I accepted it." +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment's silence then Lavinia +burst out, "But how could you, Mother? I said I +wouldn't go. I told you why; that it would be +hateful and I wouldn't know anyone, and you +said you'd refuse it." +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia dear, I said no such thing." Edith's +voice was calm. "I told you I wanted you to go +to it, and you said you were unwilling, but I +explained my reasons, and that surely ended the +matter." +</p> + +<p> +She took up her pen again, but Lavinia interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +"It didn't end the matter," she said. "Surely +I have some say in my own life. It's perfectly +ridiculous, Mother; this isn't the nineteenth +century, and there isn't another girl I know who +can't refuse an invitation if she wants to. It's +mad, and antediluvian to behave as if I were +two." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know what you're saying," Edith +answered sternly. "You're speaking rudely and +thoughtlessly. I expect you to fall in with my +wishes, and I'm very disappointed at this +attitude you've taken up. Perhaps I've been too +indulgent with you and given way too much." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia laughed wildly. "Given way," she +repeated, "Oh, no, Mother, you never give way. +The boys and Father and I all knuckle under in +everything; I've never seen it so clearly before, +but it's true what I say, that we aren't allowed +to call our souls our own." +</p> + +<p> +"You've said quite enough, Lavinia; I think +you'd better ring up Lady Olivia and say you +aren't very well and had better be at home to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I'll go. I never wanted to go, but I will. +And I'll never be able to forgive you for having +cheated me. You made me think you had +refused, and all the time you had planned for me +to go." +</p> + +<p> +Dinner was a miserable meal. When Lavinia +had gone to the dance, Rodney came over and +sat on the sofa beside Edith who looked tired +and worn. +</p> + +<p> +"What's wrong, Edith?" he asked. "What's +worrying you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm desperately worried, Rodney. It's +Lavinia. I do everything I can to amuse the +child, I arrange parties for her, and welcome her +friends here, and now to-night she doesn't feel +quite happy about a dance she is going to, and +she accused me of interfering and deceiving her, +and I don't know what else." +</p> + +<p> +"She's spoiled I expect," suggested Rodney +comfortably. "She's pretty and she's having a +good time and people running after her and her +head is a bit turned, don't you think? It's natural +to kick over the traces now and again." +</p> + +<p> +"No, Rodney, it isn't natural for any child to +speak to her mother as Lavinia spoke to me +to-night. I was only acting for the best when I +accepted this invitation for her; I like her to get +all the fun she can, but it clashed with some idea +she has in her head, and she simply turned on me." +</p> + +<p> +"She'll be sorry when she cools down. She's +devoted to you, you know, Edith." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't believe it now. I don't feel things +will ever be the same again. I really am utterly +wretched; in fact I think I'll go up to bed now +if you don't mind." +</p> + +<p> +Some hours later Edith was wakened by a +gentle touch. +</p> + +<p> +A finger of moonlight lying across the floor, +showed Lavinia in white frock and cloak, +standing by the bed. +</p> + +<p> +"Mother," she said urgently, "I'm so sorry +for what I said; I'm glad now that I went, +terribly glad." +</p> + +<p> +Edith's sensibilities were fully roused by the +deep, excited note in Lavinia's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Your father's asleep," she whispered. "I'll +slip out and come up to your room for a minute +or two." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia stole quietly away, and Edith +followed her up to her own bedroom where she +found her sitting on the bed in the dark. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't put the light on, Mother," she said. +"I'd rather talk in the dark, and there's a lovely +moon. You sit down in my chair and I'll curl +up on the bed." +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia dear," said Edith, "I've had a most +miserable evening. You hurt me very cruelly; +I almost began to feel I had failed with you." +</p> + +<p> +"I know, Mother; I'm so sorry." Lavinia's +voice was dreamy. "I didn't really mean it, and +it all seems years ago anyhow. It was +wonderful to-night at the dance. There was a man +there—" She stopped, "his name was Martin +Peile," she added in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest," began Edith, but Lavinia's soft +voice hurried on. +</p> + +<p> +"Lady Olivia introduced him to me at the +very beginning; there were programmes, and +he asked for the third dance, and then after that +we didn't dance with anyone else; we sat out +together in the little garden. It wasn't very +cold, and then at the end we danced again +together. I've fallen in love with him, and he has, +too, with me." She leaned forward and caught +her mother's hand. "Isn't it lucky he did," she +said fervently. "I couldn't have borne to live +another week if he hadn't." +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia, what are you telling me? My +brain's reeling. Do you mean what you +say?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh I know it's fearfully sudden. I didn't +mean to fall in love for years and years. I know +I'm only nineteen and it must be a shock to you +and all that, but Mother, it really has happened; +I'm engaged to him." +</p> + +<p> +"You can't be engaged," said Edith, utterly +bewildered. "Who is he? We don't know him or +anything about him. You're quite wild and +unlike yourself Lavinia, my child." +</p> + +<p> +"I know I am; I've never been in love before, +you see." +</p> + +<p> +"But really darling, you're going much too +fast. Things can't be done all in a hurry like +this." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia did not seem to hear. +</p> + +<p> +"It's too amazing," she said. "Mother, I'll +never be able to thank you enough for sending +me to the dance. I might easily never have met +him. It's terrible to think I might have gone +on for years and never known Martin. He says +so too. He says we'll never be able to be +grateful enough to you. I told him how dreadful I'd +been, and he is longing to meet you. In fact he's +coming to-morrow morning. But really Mother, +I do thank you." +</p> + +<p> +Shattered as she was by the thought of the +stranger who had so suddenly entered Lavinia's +life and so entirely absorbed it, Edith nevertheless +tasted to the full the sweetness of her +child's gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +"My darling," she said tenderly, "we really +mustn't go too fast, but I want you to know one +thing: Everything I've done has always been in +the hope of giving you happiness, and if this +turns out satisfactorily it will be the most +beautiful thing for me to know that it was I who +brought it about." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia's voice rang with assurance. +</p> + +<p> +"It will turn out all right, Mother, there +can't be a hitch or a flaw. You'll see to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'll see to-morrow," said Edith. "And +now, dear child, I must go back to your father. +Sleep quietly and well, and don't be excited." +</p> + +<p> +She kissed Lavinia and held her face for a +moment between her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm a very happy mother," she said, "and a +very proud one, too, to think I've been able to +give you what may very well prove to be the +best thing in your life. Good-night, and God +bless you." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS. EDWIN GREENE +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3> +MRS. EDWIN GREENE +</h3> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +There hung about Dora Greene an atmosphere +of moribundity and stagnation that inevitably +led her relations and acquaintances to classify +her as a bore. +</p> + +<p> +Her conversation was monotonous, self-centred, +and wound its interminable way in and +out among the intricacies of her numerous afflictions. +The neglect from which she was convinced +she suffered, the slights she so patiently endured, +and the difficulty of making ends meet on a +reduced income formed the dim tapestry of her +life. +</p> + +<p> +The genuinely tragic accident which had +robbed her of her son, lost most of its poignancy +by being endlessly referred to in this ignoble +context, and the one consistently vivid emotion +in her life was her passionate unsleeping +jealousy of her sister-in-law, Mrs. Rodney Greene. +Apart from this and from the frequent scenes +which it occasioned—scenes of hysterical +reproaches met reasonably though +unsympathetically—Dora Greene fumbled her way through +each day, accumulating new grievances and +brooding over old ones. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, three times in her life she had +lived purposely and intensely: for half an hour +before her first and only proposal; during the +few months that her husband was at the front; +and for a moment when her son was dying. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +Dora Pilkington at twenty-four had been that +pitiful thing, the victim of an ill-natured +mother. Mrs. Pilkington was obsessed by social +ambitions which had been persistently thwarted; +some at their tenderest stage of growth; some +more cruelly, when they held out promise of +fulfilment. +</p> + +<p> +There had been a bazaar; the celebrity +who was to open it failed to arrive. The +committee approached Mrs. Pilkington, the vicar's +wife, and had in fact asked her to perform the +ceremony, when another member hurrying up +had announced the appearance of a certain lady, +wife of a commercial knight well established in +the county. With murmurs of "Thank you so +much," and "Then we needn't trouble you +now," the anxious ladies had fluttered away, +intent on higher prey, and the vicar's wife was +left with her words of acceptance bitter on her +lips. +</p> + +<p> +Of the multitude of obstacles which nullified +her social projects, the most permanent and +unsurmountable were her own over-zealous +opportunism, her daughter's inertia, and her husband's +earnest single-mindedness. The Reverend Edward +Pilkington was a man of limited outlook +but sincere purpose. The country parish in +which he worked, not cognisant of his limitations, +appreciated his sincerity, enjoyed his +ministrations, and made endless demands on his +time and sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +For the most part, enjoying his work as he +did and capable of estimating its usefulness, +Edward Pilkington was a happy man. His home +certainly lacked serenity, but he asked little of +life, and if he was sometimes shamed by his +wife's scornful refusal of invitations, and even +more shamed by her gushing acceptances, still +she was an admirable housewife, and there was +always some sick parishioner to provide a ready +means of escape from her tongue. When she +saw him adjusting his old scarf, and searching +helplessly for a pair of gloves, Mrs. Pilkington +would raise her eyebrows and enquire acidly: +"What! Am I to be left again this evening?" To +which Mr. Pilkington contented himself +by replying vaguely and apologetically: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid so my dear. You know a clergyman's +time is not his own." +</p> + +<p> +Dora had no means of escape. She returned +at eighteen from the rather cheap boarding +school where she had spent the last four years, +with a vague idea of helping her mother, being +useful to her father, and ultimately marrying +some delightful and desirable young man. In +point of fact neither parent required her +assistance, and her mother who had hoped with an +almost savage intensity for a daughter pretty +and clever enough to make a place for herself in +the county, was disappointed by Dora's uncertain +looks and complete lack of initiative. Gradually +Mrs. Pilkington became so embittered by her +daughter's inadequacy that a stumbling reply, +any manifestation of the gaucherie natural to +unsophisticated eighteen was enough to provoke +an outburst of taunts and ridicule. +</p> + +<p> +The reason for this was incomprehensible to +Dora. She knew only that she was a failure, +and having tried the effect of an incipient +rebellion against her mother in the form of a +muddled and consequently fruitless appeal to +her father, she sank little by little into a state of +apathy. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the spring of 1900 when Dora was +twenty-four, that Mrs. Pilkington's hitherto +diffused and generalised unkindness crystallised +into a passionate desire to marry her daughter +with whatever difficulty, to any man, however +unsuitable. It was intolerable to her to be the +only woman for miles around with a marriageable +and unmarried daughter. Dora by this time +was conscious of but one wish; to escape as much +as possible from her mother's criticism. With +this object it was her custom to absent herself for +the greater part of the day on long rambling +walks. On her return she was always sharply +questioned as to where she had been and whom +she had seen, and the replies, nearly always +unsatisfactory, were greeted with derision and +annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"You've just been wandering about, have you? +You didn't see anyone but old Mr. Crowther +and you didn't speak to him. I wonder what good +that will do. You know, Dora, it's all very well +to idle about, but a girl with no looks and no +money can't afford to pick and choose. You're +not getting any younger, are you?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer to this type of question. +Dora would mumble something about there +being no one to marry anyhow, and her mother +would take her up. "Well, there's young +Mr. Lawson at the Bank. I don't say he's anything +very much, but what do you expect?" +</p> + +<p> +"You know he's utterly impossible, Mother," +replied Dora, her face scarlet with indignation +and embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Dora, I don't really see why you +should look for anything better, and you may +as well know that I'm tired to death of having +you always hanging round the house." +</p> + +<p> +"Father doesn't feel like that anyhow," +retorted Dora, with some courage which was +quelled by her mother's reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Your father agrees with me that is a great +pity you are never likely to attract any young +man whom we could welcome as a son-in-law." +</p> + +<p> +There were many such conversations, always +ending in a decisive victory for the mother, and in +the daughter's abandonment to resentful tears. +</p> + +<p> +In May when Mrs. Pilkington heard that The +Hall, the only large house in their parish, had +been taken by a Mr. and Mrs. Greene with two +grown-up sons, she felt that at last her efforts +must be crowned with success. The further +discovery that both sons were unmarried lashed her +to an unprecedented exhibition of vulgarity. +</p> + +<p> +"That doubles your chances, Dora," she said +triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +Later, when the news filtered through that the +elder son was engaged to a Miss Beckett and +would be married in the autumn, she was +wrought to a pitch of nervous exacerbation that +found vent in threats. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, this is the end, Dora. Unless you +manage to get engaged this summer, something +will have to be done about you in the autumn." +</p> + +<p> +Part of Dora's brain registered quite accurately +the baselessness of these threats; she knew +there was nothing that could be done about her, +she knew that her father cared for her, but +something in her cringed at the scope that would be +added to Mrs. Pilkington's insults after a +summer during which she would certainly be thrown +into continual companionship with the younger +Greene boy. +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after the Greenes' arrival at the end +of June, Mrs. Pilkington, unaccompanied by +Dora, went up to call at The Hall in order to +review the position. She found it eminently +satisfactory. Mrs. Greene was unmistakably a +gentlewoman, and both sons, who appeared at +tea, were good-looking and well-mannered. +Edwin, the younger, was charmingly diffident, +but his face lit up ingenuously when Mrs. Pilkington +replied to a remark of his as to the +scarcity of young people in the neighbourhood: +</p> + +<p> +"Why, that's what my young daughter is +always complaining about. You must meet and +have a good grumble together." +</p> + +<p> +"It's selfish of you to complain, Edwin," +Mrs. Greene interposed briskly. "You know we've +come here in the hope of your father being able +to get a little peace to finish his book." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Mr. Greene an author then?" asked +Mrs. Pilkington, delighted to find that he belonged +to a profession so distinguished, and still more +delighted when she elicited the fact that he was +the Geoffrey Greene whose literary public +consisted of a small but solid body of good opinion, +ready to welcome anything from his pen. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course my husband writes mostly essays +and articles," said Mrs. Greene explanatorily, +"but at present he's engaged on something more +ambitious, and he felt it would be a help to get +out of town away from people and things." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course," agreed Mrs. Pilkington, "I +quite understand his point of view. You'll find +this quite a nice quiet neighbourhood, but we +must try and provide a little amusement for your +sons." +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at Edwin as she spoke. Everything +seemed very hopeful to her. It was obvious +that Edwin was a little bored and restless. His +work at the Bar was as yet negligible, and the +prospect of three months' idling in the country +was considerably brightened by the thought of +the Pilkington girl who apparently felt as bored +as he did. +</p> + +<p> +He accepted eagerly Mrs. Pilkington's invitation +to tennis and supper at the Vicarage a few +days hence, but the elder boy, Rodney, refused. +He was only spending a few days at The Hall +and was then obliged to return to the engineering +works where he was a very junior partner +with his uncle. +</p> + +<p> +That evening Dora wandered out into the +garden face to face with a clear-cut issue. Her +mother's injunctions were perfectly definite; +every effort was to be made to attract Edwin +Greene and if Dora could not succeed in eliciting +a proposal she must at least entrap him into some +unwary declaration which could be taken +advantage of. +</p> + +<p> +The sordid meanness of the project was +evident, but Dora Pilkington after six years of +endurance, decided that she was willing to fall in +with any scheme that would lead to freedom +from the incessant taunts and nagging to which +she was subject. +</p> + +<p> +As she looked at the moon she thought +vaguely and sentimentally that perhaps he +would fall in love with her, and it would turn +out all right; as she thought of her awkwardness +and badly made clothes, this faint hope died, +and was succeeded by a resolution to capture +by hook or crook the one eligible man +within reach. +</p> + +<p> +The afternoon when Edwin came to tennis +was a success. Dora played passably, and the +only other woman was the doctor's young +wife, absorbed in herself and her husband. +Edwin stayed on to supper, an unusually pleasant +meal at which Mr. Pilkington expanded +conversationally, and Dora and her mother formed +a smiling and apparently harmonious background. +</p> + +<p> +It was a lovely night. +</p> + +<p> +"Would you two young people like to walk +down to the river?" asked Mrs. Pilkington. +</p> + +<p> +"May we? That would be more than charming," +answered Edwin, and in a few moments +Dora found herself strolling through the +murmurous summer fields, with a young man saying +to her ardently: +</p> + +<p> +"Do let's have a lot of tennis and walks and +picnics, Miss Pilkington; there are so few people +round here that you really must put up with me +a good deal this summer." +</p> + +<p> +She felt a strange movement in her blood. It +was going to be all right then; no need to plot +and plan; she, Dora Pilkington, was embarking +on a genuine romance. Her heart beat unevenly, +and as she looked at Edwin's young face, clear +and dark in the yellow moonlight, she thought +suddenly: I love him; I'll do anything for him. +</p> + +<p> +The days that followed were busy and happy, +but July merged into August and August into +September, and the harvest was stacked in the +fields among the shorn poppies. +</p> + +<p> +"Is nothing ever going to happen, Dora?" +asked Mrs. Pilkington, and Dora asked herself +the same question, still more bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +Apparently nothing was going to happen. +Edwin Greene enjoyed and sought her +company, but by no word had he ever suggested +that his feelings for her were stronger than +affection and gratitude towards an acquaintance +who was making a dull summer less dull. +</p> + +<p> +One Saturday after a particularly trying lunch +alone with her Mother, Dora walked by herself +towards the river where she and Edwin had +gone on that first most hopeful night. Edwin, +lying in a canoe tethered to an overhanging +tree, saw her white frock coming along the bank +above him. He felt comfortably lazy and +disinclined to make any move to greet her, but the +disconsolate swing of the hat which she was +carrying in her hand, touched him. He knew by +this time that the relations between Dora and +her mother were not of the happiest, and he +guessed at the trouble that had marred the +drowsy afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +When she drew near to the tree under which +he was lying, he called softly. Startled, she +looked around in every direction but the right +one, until guided by his laughter she parted the +branches and leaned through, looking down into +the cool gloomy green cavern. +</p> + +<p> +Edwin sat up suddenly with a quick intake +of breath as he looked at her face framed by +leaves and twigs that caught at her tumbled fair +hair. Dora had been crying, she was flushed and +tremulous, but as she looked at Edwin her eyes +brightened and she smiled. In her dishevelment +she achieved an unusual warm prettiness, heightened +by the contrast between smiling mouth and +tear-stained eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"You look simply stunning, Dora," he said +eagerly; "but I can see that something is wrong: +you must let me help you, you really must. Wait +a minute till I come up beside you." +</p> + +<p> +This unprecedented offer of help combined +with Edwin's flattering words and look, broke +down completely Dora's already shaken self-control. +She felt, as on their first walk together, +that strange surging in her veins, and her +response to it was one of courage and sincerity; +virtues as a rule quite alien to her unreliable and +compromising nature. +</p> + +<p> +"You can't help me," she said desperately +turning to him with tears streaming unheeded +down her cheeks. "You mustn't even try; you +of all people must keep clear of me; you don't +understand at all; Mother is determined that +you should marry me." +</p> + +<p> +Dora was sobbing loudly and her words were +only spasmodically audible. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know how dreadful Mother is," +she gasped between sobs. "She's always going on +at me about you. You mustn't come and see us +any more; it isn't safe for you; I don't know +what she mayn't do; she's quite set on it." +</p> + +<p> +Emotions and ideas were crowding in on +Edwin: surprise, amounting to amazement, +genuine sympathy with the helplessly sobbing +girl, pride at the thought that he and he alone +could turn her misery to bliss, and at the same +time, against these, the urgings of common-sense. +</p> + +<p> +He recognised clearly that he was not in love +with Dora Pilkington; he visualised the family +difficulties that must inevitably present +themselves if he adopted the heroic attitude to which +he was drawn. He had shown no inkling of anything +beyond the most casual affection for Dora; +in conversation he had referred to her as a nice +girl and a good companion, but he knew that his +mother would certainly perceive an engagement +between him and Dora to be the result of some +transitory passion which had led to a declaration. +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated, automatically patting Dora's +shoulder with murmurs of sympathetic +encouragement. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she caught his hand, and held it to +her hot wet cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"You've been wonderful to me," she said, +"nobody has ever been so kind before, but this +is the end now." +</p> + +<p> +This, however, proved not to be true. At +the unsolicited tribute Edwin's young breast +swelled with the desire to make a heroic gesture. +He thought of the duty that the strong owe to +the weak; visions of gallant men and kneeling +beggar-maids floated cloudily in his brain; he +drew himself up, and strove for his most +resonant chest-notes as he said gravely: +</p> + +<p> +"Please don't say anything more, Dora. You +will make me very happy if you will consent to +be my wife." +</p> + +<p> +It was a magnificent gesture and it had its +instant reward. +</p> + +<p> +"No, no," cried Dora through her tears, "I +couldn't take advantage of your kindness; you +don't mean it; it's only that you're so good." +</p> + +<p> +This protest, these doubts hazarded as to his +resolution, only served to intensify it, the more +so as the sound of his own voice making its +formal proposal had struck chill upon Edwin's +heart. +</p> + +<p> +"You wrong me," he protested. "Indeed I +mean it; it will make me very happy if your +answer is yes." +</p> + +<p> +Dora had lived her moment; she had flung +away weapons and armour and renounced her +hopes. It had been an impulse and she was +incapable of carrying it to a conclusion of sustained +unselfishness. She knew that Edwin did not love +her and that the whole situation was false and +garish, but the chance was too good to be let +slip. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Edwin," she gasped, "indeed it is yes," +and then relapsed into further sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +Edwin too had had his moment, but his was +no isolated detachable fragment of his life. The +results of it had closed on him like a trap; all +that he could do was to follow up the line of +conduct imposed on him by his own act. He put +his arm round Dora, and kissed her gently. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear," he urged, "don't cry any more. +Please try not to; it does upset me to see +you, and surely everything will be all right +now. Let's sit down on the bank and discuss +things. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm only crying because I'm so happy," said +Dora attempting to dry her tears. "It's all so +wonderful. Mother and Father will be so +pleased." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin was conscious of a tremor of disgust +at the thought of Mrs. Pilkington, but Dora +seemed to have forgotten the prelude of +frankness which had led to his proposal. +</p> + +<p> +"Will Mr. and Mrs. Greene mind your getting +engaged to me?" she asked tentatively, and +Edwin's doubts were lulled by pleasure in her +humility and dependence, and in his own +protectiveness. +</p> + +<p> +"They won't interfere," he assured her +stoutly. "Mother will say I'm too young and we +must wait a little and are we sure we know our +own minds and so on, but Father won't take any +part. He never does; he says everyone must +buy their own experience." +</p> + +<p> +At his own careless words, Edwin again +felt chilled and dismayed; he was buying his +so dear, at the cost perhaps of all his future +happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly in a fever of impatience to make it +irrevocable and be quit of doubts and tremors, +he dragged Dora to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Let's go home at once," he said, "and tell +them we're engaged; let's get all the fuss over +and be married as soon as we can; I'm not earning +any money yet, but I shall soon, and Father +gives me a decent allowance." +</p> + +<p> +As they walked back to the Vicarage through +the warm afternoon, Dora thought vaguely of +how crossing these fields an hour ago, she had +been disconsolate, futureless, forlorn. +</p> + +<p> +The miseries of her immediate past were +already dimming; her facile and slovenly character +found in her present triumph enough satisfaction +to obscure the legitimate rancour of six +sordid years. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +III +</p> + +<p> +Shortly after his marriage which took place +in the Spring of 1901, Edwin Greene found that +the qualms which had shaken him at the very +moment of proposing to Dora Pilkington were +amply justified. +</p> + +<p> +His father had increased his allowance in +order to make it possible for him to marry and +take a small house while waiting and hoping for +work to materialise. Dora, who had chosen the +house in Maida Vale, furnished it with the help +of her mother who since the announcement of +the engagement had been her daughter's admirer +and ally, and had thrown herself with zest into +preparations for the wedding. +</p> + +<p> +It was an inconvenient little house, made still +more inconvenient by the profusion of small +tables, ornaments and unnecessary objects which +cluttered up the floor space and made it +impossible to cross the room with any ease. To +Dora these represented the perfection of +gentility; this picture was a signed water colour, +that vase a wedding present from the choir, the +rug in front of the fire superimposed on a larger +rug of different pattern, had come from Dora's +own home which gradually acquired in her mind +an aura of sanctified sentimentality. +</p> + +<p> +Three months after her marriage she referred +to "my old home in the country" in such +languishing tones that Edwin, who had been the +easy victim of the old home's cruelty could not +restrain himself, and burst out, "My dear Dora, +for goodness sake don't talk like that; you know +perfectly well you were utterly miserable at +home." +</p> + +<p> +Resentful of this plain-speaking, not even +recognising its truth, Dora shed a few tears +through which she contrived to utter: "You do +exaggerate shockingly, Edwin. I really think +you might try and spare my feelings more." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm sorry, and I don't say it wasn't a +better home than this." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin looked gloomily round the crowded +little drawing-room, but Dora immediately +flamed up in its defence. +</p> + +<p> +"There you are, criticising again. You only do +it because Mother and I chose it. It's a lovely +little house, and I'm sure I take enough trouble +to keep it nice. Look at the way I dust all the +china myself every morning." +</p> + +<p> +Her sobs redoubled in vigour, but Edwin sat +humped up in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +He wondered if all young wives cried on an +average three times a day and if all women +twisted every remark into an insult directed +against themselves, their taste, or their relations. +There must be some who don't, he thought +drearily; some women that you can talk to +without having to remember not to say this or that. +Oh well, it's my own fault, I suppose; I must +make the best of it. +</p> + +<p> +He got up, came over to where Dora sat, and +awkwardly patted her bowed head. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't cry," he said, and even as he said the +words he wondered savagely how often he had +said them since the day of his engagement. He +pushed the thought away. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't cry," he repeated mechanically. "I +must go and do some work in my study." +</p> + +<p> +"But you do like the house?" Dora looked up +at him plaintively. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I do," he answered reassuringly, +and when he stumbled over a footstool on the +way to the door, he put it tidily on one side +instead of kicking it under the nearest table as he +was tempted to do. +</p> + +<p> +By 1904, when Dora was expecting her first +child, their positions were reversed. After one +visit to her sister-in-law's new house in Sussex +Square, Dora came back to Maida Vale +discontented and jealous. She attacked Edwin that +night after dinner with a complaint which could +not fail to arouse his annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Edwin I went to tea with Edith to-day, +and I do think it's dreadfully unfair that she and +Rodney should have so much more money than +we have." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin felt completely helpless. He knew by +this time that if Dora felt a thing to be unfair, +no amount of proof to the contrary would convince +her, but he felt constrained to reason gently +with her petulance which he supposed to be in +part due to her condition. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you see it quite clearly," he +urged, "Rodney and I both have the same allowance +from Father, but for one thing he is three +years older than me, and then being in the Works +with Uncle Hugh he is bound to make more +money than I am at first." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see why," said Dora rebelliously. +</p> + +<p> +"The Bar's always slow at the beginning," +explained Edwin. "You know I've often told +you it may be a long time before I make a decent +income." +</p> + +<p> +"It seems very cruel to me," said Dora, her +voice trembling with self-pity. "Here am I +boxed up in this little house, and there's Edith +with her lovely new drawing-room and two +perfect nurseries." +</p> + +<p> +"But I thought you liked this house?" Edwin +was upset at the new development. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't; I hate it. It's a mean little house, +and I know perfectly well that Edith looks down +on it, and me, and you, and everything. But +there's no use speaking to you; you won't do +anything about it." +</p> + +<p> +She left the room, holding her handkerchief +to her eyes in a gesture so familiar that Edwin +did not notice it. +</p> + +<p> +He sat still, oppressed by the bitterness of his +thoughts. All his youthful flamboyance was +gone, and with its going he had gained +immensely in appearance. +</p> + +<p> +Edwin Greene at twenty-nine was extremely +good-looking in the austere manner affected by +young barristers. He looked older than his age +and the lines from nose to mouth were deeply +carved, but the modelling of his face, with its +unmistakable resemblance to his mother, was +excellent. +</p> + +<p> +I'm damnably handicapped, he thought, and +there's no way out. I'm beginning to get on now; +with luck another five or six years will see me +with as much work as I can tackle, but what's the +use of it all? +</p> + +<p> +The door opened gently, and Dora came in +and knelt by his side. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Edwin, dear," she said. "I never meant +to get so cross; I am sorry. But I feel so ill +and miserable these days, and it was just +too much for me to see Edith's beautiful new +house." +</p> + +<p> +At the recollection her mouth trembled again, +and Edwin roused himself from his abstraction. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't worry," he said heavily. "We'll be +able to have a house like that later on. But in +the meantime you must try not to make yourself +so wretched over things." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Edwin, I do try, but I feel so terribly +ill; you can't possibly understand what I'm +feeling." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure it's perfectly rotten for you, but do +you think you go out enough? It's supposed to +be good to take a little exercise, isn't it?" +</p> + +<p> +"I do go out a little of course, but I really +don't like to be seen very much." +</p> + +<p> +"I think that's nonsense, Dora. Edith tells me +that before her two babies were born she used +to go out every day, and just not think of it, +and she's having another now, isn't she, but she +seems quite bright." +</p> + +<p> +Dora's face flamed. "It's all very well for +Edith," she exclaimed loudly. "She's got other +nice things to think about, and anyhow she's as +strong as a horse. But it's very different for +me." +</p> + +<p> +She flounced from the room for the second +time, and listening to the sounds overhead, +Edwin judged rightly that this second flight +was final and that she would now withdraw for +the night. +</p> + +<p> +Their son, Edwin Pilkington, was born and +lived for the first five years of his life in the +same small house that had provoked so many +battles between his parents. +</p> + +<p> +Dora was an injudicious mother, prodigal of +caresses, bribes, scoldings and injunctions. Nurses +and nursery governesses succeeded each other +so rapidly that the little boy had no sooner got +used to eating, sleeping, and going for walks +with one person than another was immediately +substituted. This was partly because no one +could put up for long with the suspicions and +jealousies of such an employer and partly +because Dora suffered so intensely when she saw +her son developing any affection for whomsoever +was in charge of him, that she immediately +trumped up some excuse for getting rid of the +interloper. +</p> + +<p> +The small Edwin, living in this state of +emotional bewilderment gradually grew to rely on +his quiet and repressed looking father as the one +normal steady person in an otherwise chaotic +existence. +</p> + +<p> +Edwin himself who had looked forward +with foreboding to the birth of the child was +surprised and amused when he found what +pleasure he gained from his son's companionship. +</p> + +<p> +By 1909 he was a busy man with a steadily +increasing income, and Dora was able to move +to the larger house on which her heart had been +set since Edith's move to Sussex Square. For a +time she was so happily occupied in furnishing +and decorating that life flowed more evenly for +both husband and son. The former was spared +anything in the nature of a scene for some +months; days and even weeks went by without +Dora having recourse to her favourite +weapon—tears—and the younger Edwin for nearly a +year enjoyed the ministrations of the same +nursery governess. +</p> + +<p> +This tranquil state of things was only a lull. +It occurred to Edwin one day that the time had +come for his son's education to begin. He mooted +the project very tentatively to Dora, hoping that +the idea of looking for a suitable kindergarten +would prove some solace for what he knew she +would regard as a tragic break in her relationship +with the little boy. +</p> + +<p> +His hopes were unfounded. As he mentioned +the word "school," she produced her handkerchief, +and before the end of his sentence she was +sobbing bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +"It's the beginning of the end," she wept, +"the beginning of the end. He'll never be +mine again; once he goes to school he is lost to +me." +</p> + +<p> +In vain Edwin pointed out half-jocularly that +it was the inevitable destiny of mothers to lose +their sons in this way; in vain he attempted to +console her by saying it would only be for a few +hours daily. She was inconsolable. +</p> + +<p> +"It's the beginning of the end," she repeated. +"You don't understand how a mother feels, but +at least you might postpone it for a year +or two." +</p> + +<p> +But Edwin was determined that some consistent +influence should be brought to bear on +his son's impressionable nature and he persisted. +</p> + +<p> +A satisfactory kindergarten was decided on, +and this in turn was succeeded by a day-school. +</p> + +<p> +The younger Edwin adapted very easily to +school life, but retained an immense admiration +for his father which at times provoked his +mother to jealous annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"You're silly about your father," she would +say. "It's all very well for me to take you about +with me, but it isn't manly to hang round your +father as you do." +</p> + +<p> +However, Edwin, so easily swayed in many +ways, presented a quietly stubborn front to her +on this point, and continued to seek his father's +company. +</p> + +<p> +In the summer of 1914 when he was nearly +ten, a severe battle raged over his head. +</p> + +<p> +He had been entered for a preparatory school +for the Lent Term of 1915, but a vacancy had +unexpectedly occurred and Edwin was anxious +for the boy to take advantage of it and go one +term earlier than had been arranged. +</p> + +<p> +Dora set her face against it. +</p> + +<p> +"You really are very unreasonable," said +Edwin at last, thoroughly exasperated. +</p> + +<p> +"I may or may not be," answered Dora, +always ready to complicate the issue, "But +Edwin's not looked so well lately, and after all +I'm his mother, and I ought to know whether +or not he's ready for a boarding school." +</p> + +<p> +"I know he isn't looking too well; that's +another reason why I'm keen for him to start +next term. He'll be better out of town." +</p> + +<p> +"You mean he'll be better away from me?" +asked Dora on that rising note which preceded +a hysterical outburst. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean nothing of the sort. I mean precisely +what I say; that he'll be better out of town, +and I've decided once and for all that he is to +go at the end of these holidays." +</p> + +<p> +"So I'm to have no say in it; I'm only his +mother to be pushed aside and ignored." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm extremely sorry you take it like this, +Dora, but I'm not open to changing my mind +this time," answered Edwin, and left the house +for Chambers before the storm of tears, which +was the conclusion of all arguments, burst over +the household. +</p> + +<p> +The subject was not, however, finally disposed +of till the evening in August when Edwin, who +had felt it impossible to leave London at the +outbreak of war, came home and said rather +abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid you won't approve of what I've +done, Dora, but I felt I really couldn't keep out +of things so I applied for a commission a few +days ago, and have got it all right." +</p> + +<p> +To his surprise, Dora answered quietly: "Oh, +Edwin, that's splendid," and then fell silent. +</p> + +<p> +He eyed her distrustfully. He could have +understood a manifestation of emotional +patriotism that would have culminated in a fit of +sobbing on his breast, or a paroxysm of sentiment +and pride, but what he really expected was an +impassioned reproach for his cruelty and +selfishness in being willing to abandon her. +</p> + +<p> +This quietness and restraint was the one attitude +he had not dared to hope for. +</p> + +<p> +Dora was obviously making a determined +effort at self-control. She stood in front of him, +twisting her hands a little, but showing no signs +of hysteria. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad about it," she said at last, "I think +it will be good for us to have a big break like +this. You know, Edwin, things haven't gone +quite as I meant. I know I've never really +pleased you and yet I meant to try so hard when +I married you. But I think perhaps after this it +will be different." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin looked at her curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"It's been my fault," she continued simply, +"so it's I who must change myself and in the +meantime I'll do all I can to help instead of +hindering." +</p> + +<p> +"You've helped me enormously by the way +you've taken this," said Edwin warmly. "I was +afraid you'd be very upset. You see, dear——" +he hesitated and then plunged, "I'm afraid it +means I must be off to a training camp the day +after to-morrow." +</p> + +<p> +Dora's newly discovered composure appeared +unshakable. +</p> + +<p> +"We'll have a good deal to do getting you +ready," she said, "but don't worry, we'll manage +all right." +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the three months of Edwin's +training in England, even during the trying days +of his last leave, she maintained this admirable +self-command. +</p> + +<p> +It lasted indeed until the Spring of 1915 +when she received news of Edwin's death. +</p> + +<p> +At that her resolution broke. It seemed to her +that Providence had played her an unwarrantable +trick. She had vowed to be a different +woman; she had been a different woman, and +this was her reward: that her husband had been +taken from her. +</p> + +<p> +She sat looking dumbly at the telegram, +while floods of self-pity rolled over her. +Suddenly she realised that nobody knew yet, that +Mr. and Mrs. Greene and Rodney ought to be +told at once. At the thought of Rodney working +hard but in safety at his engineering works, she +was suddenly seized by a fervour of hysterical +resentment. +</p> + +<p> +Unclenching her damp hands she went to the +telephone and rang up his house. +</p> + +<p> +"I want to speak to Mrs. Rodney, please," +she said, "Mrs. Hugh speaking." +</p> + +<p> +In a moment she heard Edith's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, Dora, did you want me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Edwin's dead," she stated baldly into the +telephone. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you say?" asked Mrs. Rodney, for +once at a loss. +</p> + +<p> +"Edwin's been killed," said Dora, her voice +rising dangerously. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Dora," she heard, "This is terrible. +I'll come round at once. I'm dreadfully sorry." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, are you?" shouted Dora, "It's an easy +thing to be. You've got your husband at home +safely tied to your apron strings. You can afford +to be sorry for me, can't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hush, Dora," Mrs. Rodney's voice sounded +authoritatively down the wire. "You must +control yourself. I'll come round to you at +once." +</p> + +<p> +But it was too late to stop the outburst. +</p> + +<p> +"Come if you like; I won't see you," Dora +was screaming now. "You've always done your +best to spite me, and you needn't pretend now +that you've ever cared for Edwin or me. You've +always had more luck and more money and now +I've lost Edwin too, and I know perfectly well +you think I deserve it, but at least my husband +doesn't hide like a coward in his engineering +works." +</p> + +<p> +Her voice died away, as it dawned on her +that Edith had rung off. She was speaking to +nobody. +</p> + +<p> +As she hung up the receiver she caught sight +of the parlourmaid's scared and anxious face +looking over the banisters. +</p> + +<p> +"When Mrs. Rodney calls, tell her I can't see +her," she said harshly. "Mr. Greene's dead; he's +been killed." +</p> + +<p> +She pushed past the maid on the stairs, and +burst into her own room, wringing her hands +and crying loudly. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +IV +</p> + +<p> +After his father's death young Edwin Greene +found school holidays very trying. He continued +to miss his father both as an actual presence +and as the restful element in the house, and +he found himself embroiled in a series of +exhausting scenes with his mother. These scenes +ended in still more exhausting reconciliations, +during which she would hold him, clasped in +her arms while she repeated that she was now a +widow and he her only hope, in accents varying +from the genuinely tearful to the luxuriously +sentimental. +</p> + +<p> +The fact that Edwin was only a child of ten +did not deter her from reproaching him bitterly +when he wriggled, embarrassed, from her +embrace, and stood sullenly beside her, anxious +only to get away from an emotional situation +with which he could not cope. +</p> + +<p> +Exasperated by what she took to be indifference, +she would stress still further the note of +affection. +</p> + +<p> +"You're all I've got now, Edwin, and it +seems as though you don't care about me at all. +Surely you can tell me that you'll love me and +look after me now your father's gone." +</p> + +<p> +Shifting his weight from one foot to the +other, staring at the carpet in an agony of uneasy +bewilderment, Edwin would mutter: "Of course +I shall." +</p> + +<p> +"Is that all you can say?" Dora would cry, +the familiar note of hysteria creeping into her +voice. "Leave me then; I'm better alone than +with a son who doesn't love his mother." +</p> + +<p> +Guiltily conscious that something was +expected of him, but not knowing what it was, +Edwin would seize his opportunity to escape +from the room, and the whole scene would be +renewed later. +</p> + +<p> +In time, however, Dora found it impossible +to feed the flames of despair on Edwin's mute +discomfort, and she resigned herself to a state +of aggrieved self-pity. +</p> + +<p> +A year or two after his father's death, Edwin, +who had grown wary and perceptive, realised +that his mother's greatest pleasure in life was to +invite a few women friends to tea, to play +bridge, or to spend the evening, and then to +embark on a prolonged and enjoyable narration +of her grievances; which was sure to be followed +by an equally prolonged recitation of similar +grievances endured by one or other of the ladies +present. Conversation would continue along +these lines until everyone had exposed to their +satisfaction, the more intimate difficulties, +annoyances and sorrows of their private life. +</p> + +<p> +Expressions of sympathy having been exchanged, +the depressing coterie would break up, +to meet again a few days hence and go over the +same ground with undiminished ardour. +</p> + +<p> +On one occasion Edwin found himself involved +in a painful scene not only with his +mother, but with one of his mother's friends, a +Mrs. Pratt, whom he instinctively disliked and +distrusted. It was during the summer holidays +of 1917. For the last few years the person with +whom he had most in common, apart from his +school-friends, was old Mrs. Greene, his father's +mother. +</p> + +<p> +He was invited regularly to spend part of his +holidays with his grandparents in the country, +and the tranquil undisturbed atmosphere of +their house was very welcome to him. He was +on terms of easy intimacy with both grandparents; +they accepted him unquestioningly +without any of these probing enquiries into the +state of his emotions which made life at +home so difficult for the rapidly developing +boy. +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of these holidays he had +already spent a week with Mr. and Mrs. Greene +before going to Bournemouth for a month with +his mother. But now there still remained a +fortnight before going back to school, and a letter +had come from his grandmother inviting him +to stay again for as long as he could. +</p> + +<p> +He opened the subject at breakfast. +</p> + +<p> +Dora had been frowning over her newspaper +as he read his letter, and she suddenly burst out: +"Well I must say I don't see why <i>The Times</i> +should report that Rodney and Edith were at +the Ledyard wedding, and leave my name out +of the list. But some people always manage to +get their name in the papers." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin realised that the moment was not +propitious, but his eagerness carried him beyond +the need for discretion. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Mother," he began, "I've got a letter +from Grannie asking me to stay for a bit. Could +I go to-morrow do you think? There isn't very +much of the holidays left." +</p> + +<p> +Dora put down her paper and looked at him. +</p> + +<p> +"You want to go then, Edwin?" +</p> + +<p> +"Rather," Edwin assented heartily. "I'd love it." +</p> + +<p> +He stopped dismayed as he saw his mother's +hand grope for her handkerchief, and her face +slowly crumple into misery. +</p> + +<p> +"I did enjoy Bournemouth," he began, "but I +just think a little while with Grannie would be +nice." +</p> + +<p> +Dora burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Edwin," she sobbed, "oh, Edwin. This +is a terrible blow to me. You're all I've got, +everything I do is for you, and now you say +you'd rather be with your Grannie than with +me." +</p> + +<p> +She sobbed on, as Edwin got up and came +round to her end of the table. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I don't mean that," he said. "I'm +awfully sorry, Mother; I won't go if you don't +want me to, but of course it would be rather +decent there." +</p> + +<p> +"This is my reward. This is what comes of all +my devotion to you. Oh, Edwin, I didn't think +you could have hurt me so." +</p> + +<p> +"But I've said I won't go. I can't help +wanting to, but I've said I won't and I don't see why +that hurts you." +</p> + +<p> +Dora dried her tears and took his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my dear," she said, "you'll never know +what pain a mother feels when her child wants +to leave her. But when I'm dead you'll be glad +you offered to stay." She put away her +handkerchief and added heroically. "You may go, +Edwin; I like you to do what makes you happy." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin's face brightened. +</p> + +<p> +"May I really, Mother? Thanks most awfully; +I'd love it. Do you think I may go +to-morrow?" +</p> + +<p> +Dora Greene looked pained, but only answered +in a fading voice: +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Edwin, you may go to-morrow," and +left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Edwin felt a little damped, but when he sat +down to write to Mrs. Greene that he would +arrive the following day, his spirits rose +again. +</p> + +<p> +His mother was out for lunch, so he ate it +alone, and afterwards went for a solitary walk, +elated to think that there would be no more +hanging about in London with nothing to do. The ten +days before school began stretched pleasantly +ahead and as he came quietly into the drawing-room +for tea, his cheeks flushed with walking, +he looked a happy, carefree, small boy. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pratt was sitting on the sofa beside his +mother. +</p> + +<p> +"How do you do, Edwin?" she said gravely, +"your poor Mother's just been telling me how +upset she is." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin looked both surprised and concerned. +</p> + +<p> +"What's wrong?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pratt looked at him reproachfully and +shook her head slowly from side to side as she +said: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Edwin. To think you've forgotten +already how you grieved her this morning." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't say anything more," interrupted Dora, +smiling bravely. "I suppose it is weak of me to +be so hurt, and since Edwin wants to go and +leave me, he must just do it." +</p> + +<p> +"Listen to your mother," urged Mrs. Pratt +admiringly. "Never thinking of herself, always +planning for your happiness, and then see if +you've the heart to go against her wishes." +</p> + +<p> +Edwin felt that he had been treated with some +sort of subtle treachery. His brows were drawn +into a scowl, and he looked sullen and resentful +as he said stubbornly: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what you mean. I told Mother +I wouldn't go to Grannie if she didn't want me +to, but she said I might, and I've written and +now I'm going." +</p> + +<p> +He half turned away but Mrs. Pratt laid her +hand on his arm as her voice went on gently: +</p> + +<p> +"That action was so like your wonderful +mother, dear boy. You're all she's got and yet +she'll sacrifice herself to let you go if you want. +Now don't you think you could make a little +sacrifice for her and stay at home?" +</p> + +<p> +Edwin kicked the leg of the tea table and +fidgeted with his hands, but he did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +"You see it's no use," said Dora bitterly. +"He'll do nothing for me; better say no more." +</p> + +<p> +She poured out tea, clattering the china in her +nervous annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pratt began again: +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Edwin, dear, I'm sure you don't mean +to be unkind——" but Edwin interrupted her +rudely. His mouth was shaking, but his voice +was quite steady. +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't fair," he said passionately. "It isn't +fair of Mother to begin at me again. She +shouldn't have told you anything about it. I said +I'd do what she wanted, but it was all arranged +that I could go and now she's gone and raked it +all up again with you. But I'm going all the +same." +</p> + +<p> +He stopped confusedly, and became aware of +his mother moaning gently: "Oh, Edwin, oh, +Edwin!" Mrs. Pratt was repeating in her +amazement. "Well, I'd never have believed it; I'd +never have believed it." +</p> + +<p> +"Believe what you like," Edwin addressed +her distractedly and turned to his mother. +"Don't go on saying 'Oh, Edwin'," he shouted. +"I hate my name; I hate everything." +</p> + +<p> +He ran from the drawing-room, and Mrs. Greene +subsided into tears. +</p> + +<p> +"My poor Dora," said Mrs. Pratt soothingly. +"My poor, dear Dora, what a terrible afternoon. +I know how sensitive you are, and how you must +suffer from such a scene." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed I do. Nothing could be more unlike +me. But what can I do? My son's been taken +from me by his grandmother. I'm powerless +against her." +</p> + +<p> +"It's shocking, really shocking, and especially +when you've got nobody but him." +</p> + +<p> +"I've always been lonely; I've had very little +happiness since I was a girl. When I look back +to my old home and then think of what I've +suffered since I left it, I often wonder I've lived +so long." +</p> + +<p> +"You're wonderful, Dora; always so brave, +always putting the best face on things." +</p> + +<p> +"I do try," said Dora beginning to brighten, +"But oh how difficult it is when Edwin behaves +to me like this." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you should worry. I'm sure it +must be Mrs. Greene's influence. No boy of his +age could possibly behave like that unless his +mind was being poisoned." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really think so?" asked Dora with +interest. +</p> + +<p> +"I do," said Mrs. Pratt, dropping her voice +to a mysterious note. "And I really think you +ought to work out some scheme to prevent it." +</p> + +<p> +"But what can I do?" There was pause, and +then Mrs. Pratt spoke triumphantly. +</p> + +<p> +"I know, Dora. I've thought of the very idea. +You must let him go this visit, and then towards +the end of next term you must write and say +you're not at all well, and the doctor is very +anxious about you and says that you must be +spared all worries and troubles." +</p> + +<p> +"But I'm quite well," said Dora limply. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, of course, I know you are, but don't +you see? It's a real opportunity for you if you +do that. He can't go and stay with the old woman +if your heart is weak, and gradually you can get +him away from her influence." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll do anything for Edwin. You know that, +Violet. I'll make any sacrifice for him; anything +to free him from this terrible effect his grannie +is having on him." +</p> + +<p> +Dora spoke earnestly, beginning to believe +under the spell of Mrs. Pratt's suggestion that +Mrs. Greene was indeed exercising a malign +influence on her son. +</p> + +<p> +The plot to rescue Edwin was gradually +evolved in all its details, but it was never carried +out. +</p> + +<p> +Early in November, Dora received a telegram +that sent her straight to Waterloo, and thence—after +a hideous hour of waiting for a train—down +to Edwin's school, where she was greeted +by his pale and anxious-looking headmaster. +</p> + +<p> +"I have very bad news for you," he said. "I +find it utterly impossible to express my regrets +and sympathy." +</p> + +<p> +"Is Edwin alive?" asked Dora Greene steadily. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, he is alive," answered Mr. Foster. +"But the doctor has seen him and the spine is +severely injured. He is quite unconscious." +</p> + +<p> +"Will he live?" +</p> + +<p> +Dora Greene, to whom tears came so easily, +was dry-eyed and stony as she asked the +question and listened to the answer. +</p> + +<p> +"Only for a few hours. He may regain +consciousness before the end." +</p> + +<p> +"Tell me exactly how it happened, please." +</p> + +<p> +"It appears that this morning during the +recreation half-hour, Edwin and another boy +were so foolish as to dare each other to walk +round the gymnasium roof on the coping that +you can see from here." Mr. Foster moved over +to the window as he spoke. Mrs. Greene followed +him and stood looking at the long, high +building jutting out from the side of the house. +</p> + +<p> +"Is that the coping?" she asked, "where that +bird is?" A pigeon was walking jerkily along the +narrow ledge, stopping every now and again to +nod its head with meaningless little movements. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that's it. I need hardly tell you that it is +absolutely against the rules to do so, and indeed +no boy has ever before made the attempt. Edwin +was to go first. He climbed out through a dormitory +window, up a sloping piece of roof and from +that on to the coping. He walked quite steadily +the full length of the building, but at the corner +the boys think he looked down and got dizzy. +Anyhow he fell." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Foster stopped for a moment. His voice +was husky as he continued: +</p> + +<p> +"I was there in a few minutes; the matron +too, but he was quite unconscious. When the +doctor came we moved him into a ground-floor +room, and the doctor fitted up a bed and made +his examination." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Foster looked desperately at the silent +woman confronting him and said again: +</p> + +<p> +"I cannot tell you Mrs. Greene, what this +means to me. It's the most tragic thing that has +happened in all my school career." +</p> + +<p> +"I should like to see Edwin now, please," said +Mrs. Greene, and was taken to the class-room +where Edwin lay, his eyes closed, his rosy face +pale and drawn, on an improvised bed. +</p> + +<p> +The matron who was sitting beside him, rose +and offered her chair to Mrs. Greene who sat +down, still silent. All through the evening she +sat there, gazing unflinchingly at the small +figure on the bed. The doctor came in and spoke +to her, but she did not answer. Food was +brought on a tray, but she refused it. The matron +sat opposite her on the other side of the bed, +occasionally moving a pillow or bending down to +listen to the child's uncertain breathing. +</p> + +<p> +Towards eleven o'clock Edwin's heavy +eyelids lifted and he looked vaguely at his +mother. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't know you were here, Mother," he +said uninterestedly. +</p> + +<p> +"I've just come to see you, darling," said +Dora Greene stooping to kiss him. +</p> + +<p> +"Am I ill?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, Edwin, you've had a bad accident." +</p> + +<p> +Presently he asked, still passively: +</p> + +<p> +"Am I going to die, do you think?" +</p> + +<p> +"You've hurt yourself rather badly, dear," +his mother answered and could not keep a +tremor from her voice. He lay still with closed +eyes. At the first sign of consciousness the +matron had hurried from the room. She now +came back with the doctor, who lifted Edwin's +hand to feel his pulse and then laid it gently +back on the coverlet. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Edwin opened his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Mother," he said, with more animation +than he had shown, "if I'm going to die, I'd +awfully like to smoke a cigarette first." +</p> + +<p> +Dora looked at the doctor, who shook his +head. She stood up and drew him a little aside. +</p> + +<p> +"Give me a cigarette," she said in a savage +undertone. "Give me one at once; it can make no +difference." +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly think——" he began helplessly. +But she interrupted, still in an undertone of +concentrated intensity. +</p> + +<p> +"Give me it at once; I insist." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor handed her his case. She took out +a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +"There, darling," she said to Edwin, and her +voice was soft again. "Look, I'll put it in your +mouth for you and light it." +</p> + +<p> +The doctor gave her a match and she held the +little flame steadily to Edwin's cigarette. He +drew in a breath and choked a little. +</p> + +<p> +"It's ripping," he said thickly. "Thanks +awfully, Mother." His eyelids fell again and the +cigarette dropped from his flaccid lips. With a +little choking sigh, Edwin Greene died. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene stood still, but in a moment the +doctor took her arm. +</p> + +<p> +"He's gone, Mrs. Greene; poor little chap. +Will you come away now?" +</p> + +<p> +But with a loud moan Dora Greene fell on +her knees and subsided in a passion of tears over +the body of her son. +</p> + +<p> +"He's gone," she cried, "gone, and he never +loved me. First his father took him from me, +and then his grandmother, and now he's dead +and I'll never have him." +</p> + +<p> +For a moment both doctor and matron were +taken aback by the sudden change from rigid +self-control to complete abandon, but as the sobs +turned into laughter and screams, both regained +their composure. With some difficulty they half +led, half carried, Dora Greene to the school +sanatorium, where she passed the night between +tears, hysteria and passionate vituperations +against the father and grandmother who had +robbed her of her son during his short life. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +V +</p> + +<p> +During the next few months Mrs. Pratt +proved herself so willing a confidante, so +soothing and consoling a listener that Dora Greene +finally asked her to come and live with her. +</p> + +<p> +The arrangement worked surprisingly well. +Life settled into a routine of gossip, bridge and +tea-parties, broken only by a joint summer +holiday and an occasional week at Easter when +Dora went to stay with her father, now a +widower, but still running his small parish +competently and successfully. +</p> + +<p> +It was tacitly understood between the two +ladies that when Mrs. Greene had indulged in a +long narrative embracing every sorrow and +grievance of her existence, she should pay for +the luxury of having an audience by performing +that function in her turn. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pratt's saga confined itself to full details +of her sufferings at Mr. Pratt's hands during the +months that preceded his departure from this +life in a violent attack of delirium tremens. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene was already acquainted with the +history of Mr. Pratt's life and death, but it made +good hearing none the less, and on the other +hand Mrs. Pratt particularly enjoyed the point +in Mrs. Greene's reminiscences at which +handkerchiefs were brought out, and they recalled +what a happy, bright boy little Edwin had +been. +</p> + +<p> +"Those were happy days," Dora would sigh +fondly. "I was a happy wife and mother till +death stole both my treasures." +</p> + +<p> +"But you've been so wonderfully brave, +dear," Mrs. Pratt would murmur. "See how +you've built up your life again." +</p> + +<p> +"I have been lucky in having you to help me. +I couldn't have done it without you, Violet; you +know how little use the Greenes have been to me." +</p> + +<p> +This was an immensely satisfactory opening. +Violet Pratt, a solitary woman except for her +friendship with Dora Greene, enjoyed vicariously +the many slights and rebuffs which Dora +considered that she endured from her husband's +relations. +</p> + +<p> +By 1928 this list of slights had been added to +by both Mrs. Rodney's daughter-in-laws. Helen, +Mrs. Geoffrey Greene had failed to call on her +Aunt Dora for nearly two years, and had moreover +never once invited her to a meal of any sort. +</p> + +<p> +"Not even tea," said Dora acidly. "And you +can hardly think that would be too much trouble +even in a small house." +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed you can not," Mrs. Pratt answered +warmly. "And especially after the kind way you +asked her to dinner as a bride." +</p> + +<p> +But the most recent insult was naturally the +most interesting. +</p> + +<p> +At the wedding of Hugh and Jessica only +three weeks ago, Mrs. Edwin, arriving a little +late when the bride was already in the church, +had been hustled into a back seat instead of being +allowed to take her place in one of the front +pews with the rest of the family. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I don't really blame Jessica," said +Dora, as she had already said some twenty or +thirty times during the last three weeks. "But +still, it just shows. Some arrangement should +surely have been made for me to take my proper +place, and even if I was a little late, well, I +haven't a motor like some of the others." +</p> + +<p> +"I expect it was all Mrs. Rodney's doing," +suggested Mrs. Pratt darkly. +</p> + +<p> +Dora pounced on this. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you really think so?" she asked eagerly. +"Well, I wouldn't be surprised at anything after +the way she has always looked down on me and +put me on one side." +</p> + +<p> +It was at this propitious moment that the +maid brought in a letter at which Dora exclaimed +triumphantly: +</p> + +<p> +"There now, talk of the Devil——" +</p> + +<p> +She read the letter and handed it to Mrs. Pratt. +</p> + +<p> +"Read that, Violet," she said. "Read it and +tell me what you think of it. I should have +thought that even Edith might have remembered +that next week is the anniversary of little +Edwin's death. Not the actual day of course, but +I should have thought that a different week +altogether would have shown more courtesy and +consideration. She knows I always keep these few +days sacred to my memories." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pratt read the short letter. +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + "207 Sussex Square,<br> + "November 12th.<br> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"DEAR DORA, +</p> + +<p> +"I hear that Aunt Sarah is to be in town next +week when Hugh and Jessica get home from +their honeymoon, and I feel it would be nice +both for her and for Mrs. Greene to have a +reunion with the young people. There are +six of us now, and my idea is to have a little +dinner-party next Friday night at 7.45, for +the six Mrs. Greenes. I do hope you will be +able to come; both the old ladies are getting +rather frail now, and I think it would give them +pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"With love from Rodney and myself, +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> + "Your affectionate sister-in-law,<br> + "EDITH GREENE."<br> +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +Mrs. Pratt sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," she said venomously. "I see, +Mrs. Rodney makes it sound like a treat for her +mother-in-law, but I suppose its just to make +another opportunity for showing off." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it is," answered Dora angrily. +"And what a cruel week to choose. She can't +have forgotten old Mrs. Greene's wickedness to +my poor little Edwin and yet she asks me to +meet her almost on the anniversary of his death. +And I don't at all care about meeting Hugh and +Jessica after the way I was treated at their +wedding." +</p> + +<p> +"I should refuse if I were you, Dora." +</p> + +<p> +"I've a good mind to do so. I should have +thought even Edith would have known better +than to ask me to a party next week." +</p> + +<p> +"Perhaps she doesn't mean you to accept." +</p> + +<p> +"That's probably it, Violet. I believe you're +right. She's chosen that date purposely so that I +shan't go. Well, she'll be disappointed for once. +I'll go. I'll write this minute and tell her that +I'll come but that I think she should have known +better than to ask me." +</p> + +<p> +Dora Greene moved over to her desk. +</p> + +<p> +"Come and help me, Violet," she said. "We +must concoct a good letter." +</p> + +<p> +The two ladies sat happily down to accept +with the maximum of ungraciousness the +invitation which would provide them for weeks to +come with a fruitful topic of discussion and +complaint. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS. GEOFFREY H. GREENE +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3> +MRS. GEOFFREY H. GREENE +</h3> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +It was at Lavinia's wedding that Geoffrey was +introduced to a tall girl wearing a green frock +and a green hat fitting her head so closely that +only two small curves of bright hair were visible +on her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +She looked moody and impatient, and when he +asked if she had seen the presents she said: "No +thanks, I don't want to." +</p> + +<p> +Slightly repelled by her manner but attracted +by her lime green frock and her copper-beech +hair, Geoffrey tried again. +</p> + +<p> +"Shall we get out of the crowd and find a +peaceful corner somewhere?" +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I don't really think it's worth while," +she said. "I'm going home now. I wouldn't have +come at all if I hadn't been afraid Martin's +parents would be piqued, but now they've both +seen me so I can justifiably escape." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey noticed that her eyes were a clear, +cool grey that contradicted the warmth of her +hair, and he liked the wide smile that lightened +her face as she explained her presence at the +wedding, so there was a trace of eagerness in his +voice as he asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Are you a Peile relation then? I'm sorry I +didn't hear your name when we were introduced." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'm a sort of cousin of Martin. My +name's Helen Guest. I didn't hear your name +either, but you're a Greene, of course." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm Lavinia's brother." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I thought you were. You're rather like +her. She's extremely pretty, isn't she, but not at +all paintable." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you paint then?" asked Geoffrey diffidently, +conscious of ignorance and anxious to +avoid a snub. +</p> + +<p> +She frowned. "Well, yes I do; off and on, +and not very well. But there it is, I do. I'm going +now. Good-bye." +</p> + +<p> +Her smile followed quickly on her frown, she +nodded to him, and merged into the crowd, +leaving Geoffrey bewildered and a little +depressed and solitary. +</p> + +<p> +Three months later when he met her at dinner +at Lavinia and Martin's house, he went up to +her with the pleasant sensation of renewing an +interrupted friendship. +</p> + +<p> +"How do you do, Miss Guest," he began. +"I've been hoping to meet you again in some +place not so crowded as the last time." +</p> + +<p> +Helen looked at him coldly and directly. +</p> + +<p> +"Was there a last time?" she queried. +</p> + +<p> +"I beg your pardon?" +</p> + +<p> +"I merely said, 'Was there a last time?'" she +repeated in a nonchalant voice. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey flushed. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," he said very distinctly, and his look +matched hers in coldness. "We met before at +Lavinia's wedding which you were not enjoying +very much. You said I was very like my sister +who was pretty but not paintable, and you were +wearing a green frock, very much the colour of +the one you've got on now. Have I produced +sufficient evidence to prove that I am not trying +the old familiar gambit of 'where have we met +before?'" +</p> + +<p> +He noticed that her cheeks were scarlet and +that she was obviously discomfited, and it +surprised him that anyone so aggressive should be +so easily routed. She stood silent for a moment, +and then laughed suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +"We're obviously going to quarrel," she said. +"Let's do it nicely; we'll preserve a state of +armed neutrality as long as we can, and when we +have to abandon it we'll keep to all the rules of +pretty fighting, and to begin with I'll admit +that I remember you quite well at the wedding. +I was only being contrary." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey's heart leapt. There was something +fresh and vital about this girl. She provoked him, +but she attracted him far more. He found it +immensely stimulating to be repelled by her at +one moment, and in the next, subjugated by her +candid charm. +</p> + +<p> +He sat opposite her at dinner, and though +she talked animatedly to the man on her left, +her colour remained high and he knew that she +was conscious of him. +</p> + +<p> +He speculated hazily on the nature of her +attraction for him and decided that it was partly +due to her looks, partly to her brusque +inconsistency, and that undoubtedly in this strange duel +which had started between them, hers was the +next move. It was his role to wait and lurk, +hers to make the attack or the appeal. +</p> + +<p> +After dinner two tables for bridge were +arranged, with Geoffrey at one, Helen at the +other, and he did not speak to her again until, +after saying good-night to Lavinia, she half-turned +to him, bringing into play the suave clear +line of chin and throat. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll take you home if you like," she offered +casually. "I've got my car here." +</p> + +<p> +As Geoffrey thanked her formally he felt that +again she had put him at a disadvantage. He +should have had a car to take her home in, but +for her to take him, dropping him like a small +boy at his mother's front door, was humiliating. +It irked him to sit idle while she slipped into +the driver's seat and pressed a green slipper +ruthlessly on the starter knob. There was a +moment of rending noise, then, "Better let me +turn her over once or twice," Geoffrey suggested. +"The engine's bound to be cold if it's been +standing out here all that long time with no rug +on. +</p> + +<p> +"I never do put a rug on," Helen looked at +him sidelong. "If you once begin pampering +your car there's no end to it." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey burst out laughing. It re-established +his superiority to find that she could be silly, +petulant and peevish. +</p> + +<p> +"I simply don't believe you," he said through +the agonising noise of the self-starter. "You +forgot I expect, and now you won't admit it." +</p> + +<p> +At that minute the engine suddenly jumped +to life, and Helen started the car with a +grinding of gears and a jerk. +</p> + +<p> +There was good ground for criticism but +Geoffrey held his peace, and in a moment he +heard her saying: "Do you want to go straight +home or would you like to come to my studio for +a bit?" +</p> + +<p> +Surprised, he answered promptly. +</p> + +<p> +"The studio most certainly, please." +</p> + +<p> +"It's a queer untidy sort of hovel. Only a +bedroom and a kitchen and a lovely big studio. +I don't live there all the time you see. In fact +my family kick against my living there at all, +and I have to go home at frequent intervals. But +when they get too much for me I come and live +in the studio for a few weeks." +</p> + +<p> +"Is the family atmosphere particularly trying +then, and is it in London?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, and yes. It is in London, in Lowndes +Square, and it isn't really trying at all. They're +darlings, but I'm very difficult, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"So I should imagine," said Geoffrey softly, +to which Helen only replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mind not talking? I can't cope with +the traffic if I have to concentrate on you." +</p> + +<p> +As they drove along the Embankment, +Geoffrey twisted his body into the corner of the car, +to watch her face as she drove. Even in the cold +yellow light that struck over her as they +approached each lamp-post, and faded so quickly +as they passed it, her colouring disturbed and +troubled him. +</p> + +<p> +He wondered if she still had a trace of summer +sunburn, or if all through the winter she +kept that orange glow under her skin, so that it +seemed to be lit from underneath. Concealed +lighting, he thought vaguely; and very subtle +too. Much more attractive than pink laid on, or +even pink that looks as if it were the top surface; +this is really orange and pink mixed, and a layer +of skin over it all. +</p> + +<p> +He was conscious of his hurried heart-beats +and his thick, hurried breathing when he looked +at the dark-red hair lying so flat on her glowing +cheeks, and when for a second she turned to +him, he found himself completely disconcerted. +</p> + +<p> +"We're nearly there," she said. "It's painfully +conventional to have a studio in Chelsea, but I +couldn't find another that I liked." +</p> + +<p> +She ran the car into a garage; they got out, +walked along the road, and turned up a narrow +little alley at the end of which they were +confronted by a blue door. +</p> + +<p> +Helen fumbled with her key; the lock was +stiff; impatiently she flung back her dark shawl +and stooped, green-frocked and red-haired, +against the bright blue background. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey took a step forward. The juxtaposition +of the three colours was intolerable to his +nerves, already jangled and overstrained. His +chest was aching, his ears drumming, and just as +the lock yielded he caught Helen in his arms and +kissed her violently and repeatedly. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he released her and stood on the +threshold feeling cold and sick. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry," he said, "I've been unpardonable." +</p> + +<p> +"You have," she said. "Entirely. I can't +imagine what happened. Anyhow I think you'd +better go now; everything's sordid and abominable." +</p> + +<p> +There was a small red mark at the side of her +mouth. Geoffrey stared at it stupidly and could +not find anything to say that would not sound +either meaningless or offensive. Suddenly he was +filled with immense pity for himself and her, +and words came easily. +</p> + +<p> +"I've hurt you a little," he said, "I'm sorry, +my dear, but I'm afraid we're bound to hurt each +other, you and I. I never meant to kiss you; it +was entirely because of the blue door and the +way you stood against it. It really was too much, +all that blazing blue and green, and your red +hair." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" she asked curiously. +"You can come in for a minute if you like. I +want to know what you mean when you say it +was the blue door." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey followed her into the small hall and +through to a big room at the back whose long +windows looked on to a paved garden. She put +on the light, drew the curtains of some heavy, +dark blue stuff, and knelt down by the fire with +a pair of bellows which she used energetically till +a small flame wavered up from the sullen coal. +</p> + +<p> +"There," she said triumphantly. "That's all +right. Now, please, talk to me about everything." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey had stood looking at her as she +coaxed the fire, but he was suddenly +overwhelmed by fatigue. He sat down. +</p> + +<p> +"I feel completely dull and stupid," he said +heavily. "I can't explain myself at all. I'm sorry +I offended you." +</p> + +<p> +"You needn't be," Helen's voice was light. +"It's all right. It didn't occur to me that a mere +colour effect would unnerve you." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not temperamental as a rule," Geoffrey +said sombrely. "But I'm conscious of a painful +and lovely tie between us. It wasn't only the +colour effect; it was dinner and the whole +evening, and driving with you, a frightful strain the +whole time. Listen, Helen," he leaned forward. +"I've only known you for an hour or two, but do +you think you could marry me sometime. It +seems idiotic to say I love you, but I do. I want +to marry you desperately, and do you realise that +for all I know you may be engaged to someone +else." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey broke off abruptly. He no longer +felt tired, a deep exhilaration was creeping over +him, and he experienced an almost savage +foretaste of triumph as he said urgently: "Helen, +you will marry me, won't you?" +</p> + +<p> +Helen shook her head. All the colour had +drained slowly from her cheeks, and the little +mark beside her mouth stood out hot and scarlet. +She put a finger up to it and felt it gently. +</p> + +<p> +"No," she answered, "I won't marry you, +Geoffrey. There is a queer link between us. I +felt it the first minute we met, but I won't marry +you; at least not now. I might in ten years +if my work fails me, but not now. You see it is +important to me; I love it, and I feel I'm +going to do something good, and whatever anyone +may say I'm certain it's impossible to work +decently and be married as well." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe it is," said Geoffrey strongly. +"Frankly I've never thought about it, but I'm +perfectly sure we could do it." +</p> + +<p> +"No we couldn't; no one can." +</p> + +<p> +"Helen, you must marry me. It seems to me +utterly impossible that you should refuse to. +And that's not conceit, it's simply that I know +we ought to be together, you and I." +</p> + +<p> +Helen smiled a little wanly. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't think it was conceit, and if I could +marry anyone it would be you, but I can't, don't +you see. It would be like walking into a cage, +and with my eyes open too. The minute I got in +and heard the doors shut on me I'd go mad with +terror till I got out again." +</p> + +<p> +"You're wrong. It wouldn't be like that, not +with us, Helen." +</p> + +<p> +"It would. Look at us now, Geoffrey. A minute +ago you were nearly dead with weariness and I +was bursting with vitality and now I'm nearly +dead, and you're alive again." +</p> + +<p> +"My love, that only shows. Of course now as +things are we fight each other and exhaust each +other, but if we were married, it wouldn't be +like this, we'd both be quite admirably +stimulated all the time." +</p> + +<p> +"No, we shouldn't," Helen shook her head +again. "One of us would be completely on top, +and the other would have to give up everything, +and I might easily be the other!" +</p> + +<p> +"That's not fair. I don't want you to give up +anything; I only want you to marry me." +</p> + +<p> +"That's just it, and it's no good," Helen +looked at him levelly. "I'll be your mistress, +Geoffrey, at least I think I will; not now I +mean,"—she looked fearfully round the room +as if the shadows might hear and bear witness +against her—"but sometime I think I will be. +Anyhow I won't marry anyone but you ever, +and you must leave it at that." +</p> + +<p> +"My sweet," Geoffrey knelt by her chair and +held her against him, "I don't want a mistress, +and certainly not you. I want you to marry me, +and you will some day, won't you. I can wait." +</p> + +<p> +Helen freed herself and sat bolt upright. +</p> + +<p> +"I love you in a way, Geoffrey, but don't begin +being good to me. I have people who are good +to me. If you stop fighting me altogether, I'll +simply trample on you. I'd hate you to try and +bully me, but I'd hate you still more to be kind +to me." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not a very kind person," said Geoffrey +soberly. "At home I'm supposed to be moody +and difficult—like you I suppose—and Hugh is +much more charming and likeable." +</p> + +<p> +"That'll do very well then. I like this feeling +of half loving you and with the other half +being antipathetic to you." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't like it. It's hell unless you'll marry +me. Listen Helen; if we made a treaty with +conditions so that your work was protected, don't +you think you could bring yourself to it then?" +</p> + +<p> +"I might; I don't want to; it's against my +better judgment and I'd be a bad wife, but I +might. Tell me what conditions you'd suggest. +For one thing there's children." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see that that matters. Don't have +them if you don't want them." +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't you mind?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not a bit now anyhow. And if I wanted +one in ten years or so perhaps you might +consider it." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, I almost think we might manage," +Helen said eagerly. "I've always ruled +out marriage, and I won't do it at once anyhow, +but if we did really make a sort of treaty that +would safeguard my painting, then perhaps in +two or three years I'd marry you." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll work out the clauses. You'll have to be +protected against me, and against children, and +against my relations, and heaps of other things." +</p> + +<p> +"Then why do you want me at all?" Helen +asked in a small voice. +</p> + +<p> +"I do. I want you most painfully. I hate +your work in a way because it comes between +us, but it's part of you too, and I don't know +you well enough to disassociate bits of you from +other bits." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't hate it, Geoffrey. It's the most +important part of me. I've not done anything +to matter yet, but I'll show you my last thing +if you like. I had an idea that all this talk about +schools and styles was nonsense and that one +could paint in two distinct styles in one picture +and still keep the unity." +</p> + +<p> +She went over and lifted a canvas that was +turned against the wall. +</p> + +<p> +"It's not framed," she said. "So I'll hold it +up against these curtains; they're a good +background." +</p> + +<p> +She held it at arm's length standing very +straight and tall, the outstretched arm and hand +trembling a little with its weight. +</p> + +<p> +Two white ponies were coming through a +wood, with a violent sun striking between +the trees. Each tree was painted as a solemn +dark column with four twisting branches on +each of which hung four formal emerald +leaves. But the ponies were round and fat, +with flowing manes and tails and little hooves +uplifted. There was a classical rotundity +about their haunches; their necks were thick +and curved. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey looked at them and thought how much +happier they would have been frolicking in +some flowery glade, or prancing round a little +copse with a white temple in the centre. Against +these stark blue-brown trees they became +fantastic: the wood seemed real and permanent, +the ponies—ironically robust—were creatures +of an hour, a fashion, a convention. +</p> + +<p> +"It's unkind to the ponies," he said, turning +to Helen. "They're wretched in that wood. +They want to caper in a nice little meadow full +of daisies and buttercups." +</p> + +<p> +"Daisies and buttercups," repeated Helen +broodingly. "Yes, I suppose they do. Anyhow, +it's no good at all. I thought I had discovered +something when I began, but half-way through +I lost my idea. That's why I haven't finished +it. Perhaps after all I'll marry you and have a +red plush dining-room and hang that over the +mantelpiece." +</p> + +<p> +Her voice was sullen, her face pinched and +plain. Geoffrey was conscious of a profound +and weary melancholy settling on his spirits. +He looked at Helen who returned his look +suspiciously, like a stranger. Their marriage +seemed remote and improbable. +</p> + +<p> +Vaguely he contemplated kissing her, but the +effort was too great in his dazed and empty +state. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll ring up," he said disjointedly. "I must +go now. Or I'll come and see you; perhaps +Sunday would do, would it? Anyhow I must go +now; I'm so tired I don't know what I'm +saying." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, come on Sunday. I'll give you some +supper. And don't even mention my name to +anyone. I don't know yet what I'm going to do +about you." +</p> + +<p> +Her tone was withdrawn and hostile; it +matched her suspicious glance. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-night, Helen," said Geoffrey wearily, +and the blue door shut behind him as she said, +"Good-night, Geoffrey Greene." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +Six months of alternating ecstasy and despair +with a persistent undercurrent of nervous +fatigue, so wrought upon Geoffrey's healthy +frame that when he caught influenza in the +spring of 1924, he was seriously ill and +convalescence was long and difficult. +</p> + +<p> +The day before he took ill when he was feeling +particularly low and inadequate, Helen had +come to a serious and, she proclaimed, a final +decision. It coincided with a change in her +method of painting. She had abandoned the +genre of conventional subjects placed in a +futurist setting of which the two white ponies were +the last example, and had turned instead to +poster painting. After some months of very +hard work she had succeeded with a design which +momentarily at least, satisfied her exacting +standards. +</p> + +<p> +It was austere in line but richly heraldic in +colouring and when she stepped back to look at +the finished work, she decided in one and the +same moment that it was good and that she would +now have to eliminate Geoffrey from her +scheme of life. +</p> + +<p> +Her reasons were obscure. The thought of +doing without him brought with it a faint shock +of surprise and pain, but standing there in front +of her own work it seemed to her impossible to +reconcile anything so simple, so vigorous and +so disciplined, with her passionate and confused +love for Geoffrey. Her painting was clear and +strenuous; it brought her a few moments of +ease, followed always by dissatisfaction and +renewed efforts, which in their turn brought her +again to a period of content. +</p> + +<p> +But there was no such rhythm in her emotional +life. She loved Geoffrey; at moments +she desired him, and was impatient of the +scruples which constrained him to refuse her as +a mistress; at moments she was conscious of a +surge of tenderness for him which made the +thought of marriage almost attractive. Often +however, she felt a strong revulsion against him, +not only as an individual, but as an interloper in +her private life who interfered with her peace +of mind and destroyed her powers of concentration. +The only constant factor in their relationship +was her savage determination to protect her +work against him. This determination showed +itself in a frank and laughing hostility when she +was painting well, and in sullen resentment +when she was painting badly. +</p> + +<p> +As she looked at the completed poster Helen +sighed. Geoffrey must go and the sooner the +better. It could not fail to be painful to both of +them, but she must feel free again. She must +disentangle herself from emotional disruptions +and reactions. +</p> + +<p> +She rang him up at his office and left a message +asking him to call in the evening, then flung +herself down in a big chair, her hands folded +idly in her lap and an expression of weary +disenchantment on her face. +</p> + +<p> +Her thoughts depressed her. She realised that +apart from all sentimental pangs she would miss +Geoffrey as an irritant. Already she felt listless +and uninspired at the thought of doing without +him. He stimulated her, she was goaded to +work by the desire to justify herself for her +refusal to marry him. Even in her painting she +was beginning to rely on him; a state of dependence +was almost established. +</p> + +<p> +She got up impatiently and looked at her +watch. It was only four o'clock and there was no +possibility of Geoffrey being with her for at +least two hours. +</p> + +<p> +Tearing off her painting overall she went +through to her bedroom where she slipped on a +frock of red-brick crêpe-de-chine that stole the +colour from her cheeks and dulled her hair to +brown. She caught sight of herself in the +mirror and told herself defiantly that at times +Helen Guest could look very plain, but when +she had put on a dark coat, and a small dark +hat, she carefully arranged her hair in an exact +semi-circle on either cheek and brushed a little +rouge over her cheek bones. +</p> + +<p> +The studio seemed unfriendly as she went +through; the ashes were cold in the grate, the +sun lit up a layer of soft dust over the furniture, +a curtain had torn away from one of its rings +and drooped a little. +</p> + +<p> +Helen decided impatiently that when she had +finally broken with Geoffrey it would probably +be better to go home for a time, and shut up the +studio. A few weeks in Lowndes Square would +effectively drive her to work again. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime, I'll go and see Lavinia, she +decided; she's a soothing little thing, and the +sight of her house all so smug and correct will +reinforce me against Geoffrey. It's the sort of +house and life I'd fall into if I were such a fool +as to marry him. She shrugged at her own +weakness in needing reinforcements and set out +briskly for Lavinia's house in Catherine Street. +</p> + +<p> +It happened that Mrs. Rodney Greene was +having tea with her daughter when Helen was +announced. +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia greeted Helen affectionately, and +turned to her mother. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you've met Helen, Mother +dear," she said. "Unless perhaps for a moment +at the wedding, but that hardly counts." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I don't think I have," answered +Mrs. Rodney. "But I know you're a relation of +Martin's, Miss Guest. I've often heard both him +and Lavinia talking of your work. You paint, +don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +Her voice was pleasant, but her eye raked +Helen from her long legs to the jaunty little +hat that covered her eyebrows and it registered +unmistakable disapproval. +</p> + +<p> +"I've just finished a thing to-day, but I feel +I'll never paint again," said Helen, and though +her voice was low there was a violence behind +the words that struck unpleasantly on Mrs. Rodney's +ears. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but surely you won't give up like that," +she began persuasively. "Of course I can understand +artistic discouragement; the finished work +falling so far short of the ideal"—she sketched +a vague gesture in the air—"But still I'm sure +you should persevere." +</p> + +<p> +She looked brightly and expectantly at Helen +but her glib words of consolation fell on a grim +silence. Helen lay back wearily in her chair +hardly seeming to hear what was said, and it +was Lavinia who answered rather awkwardly: +"Helen paints beautifully, Mother. She did a +picture of some ponies a little while ago that +you would simply love." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Lavinia, that thing's no good at all," +said Helen impatiently. "It's absolutely wrong; +the idea was wrong to begin with, and then I +didn't even carry it out properly. What I'm +doing now is quite different," she leaned +forward, eager and unselfconscious, "I think I've +discovered at last what I want to do; not +impressionistic at all, purely decorative and very +severe and simple. I really believe it's a style +I can express myself in." +</p> + +<p> +She caught Mrs. Rodney's blank expression +and relapsed into silence. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'm glad to know you're not really +giving it up," said Mrs. Rodney, kindly. "But +now I must be going, Lavinia, dear; I've got +some shopping to do on the way home." Mrs. Greene +stood up. "Good-bye, Miss Guest," she +said. "Perhaps Lavinia will bring you to tea with +me one day. I should enjoy a little talk about +art." +</p> + +<p> +Helen winced visibly, but her voice was polite +and non-committal as she said: "Thank you, +Mrs. Greene, it's very good of you. Good-bye." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mind if I go down with Mother; I +won't be a minute?" asked Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +She left the room, forgetting to close the +door, and presently Mrs. Rodney's clear voice +floated up from the hall. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, come and see us soon, darling, won't +you? And tell me, do you see much of that Miss +Guest? I think she's a very exaggerated young +woman, and her manner struck me as most +unfortunate." +</p> + +<p> +"We like her very much," Lavinia answered +simply. "And she's awfully clever." +</p> + +<p> +"I must say I don't think mere cleverness is +enough to excuse such brusque behaviour. Good-bye, +dear; take care of yourself." +</p> + +<p> +The front door closed, and Lavinia came +upstairs and into the drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +Helen looked at her and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad you like me," she said. "But your +Mother's perfectly right. I'm not nearly clever +enough to justify my brusque behaviour, and +from her point of view my manner is undoubtedly +unfortunate." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia flushed. "I'm sorry you heard," she +said. "Mother is very critical, but she would like +you if she knew you properly." +</p> + +<p> +"No she wouldn't. It's inconceivable that she +could ever like me. Not in a thousand years. But +I'm sorry I burst in on you and her like that. I +was in a bad mood and thought I'd come and +look at you and your house and profit by its +example." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean anything at all nice, so let's +leave it at that. You're looking very pretty +Lavinia; the baby hasn't even begun to spoil +your looks yet." +</p> + +<p> +"It will soon, I'm afraid. I look horribly +black under the eyes in the morning. I only begin +to get human about midday." +</p> + +<p> +"You really are extremely like Geoffrey." +Helen spoke abruptly. "Lavinia, do you know +I've been treating him abominably." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I didn't know that. I'm sorry. Geoffrey +is a dear really; I'm awfully fond of him." +</p> + +<p> +"So am I. I love him in a way but I can't +marry him. I can't face being stuck down in a +little house and having to run it and be amiable +at breakfast and welcome my husband's friends +and be polite to his relations. I simply can't do +it." +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you really, Helen? Geoffrey hasn't +told me anything about it, but I know he's been +miserable about something for months, and I +did just think once from something he said, +that it might be because of you." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it's no good anyhow. I'm not going to +see him any more after this evening. I do think +anything's better than dragging on like this." +</p> + +<p> +"You know, Helen, I honestly think you +wouldn't find it so very difficult to be married. +You'd be quite rich. You've got some money of +your own, and Geoffrey isn't doing so badly; +he went into the business very young, so you +could have decent maids, who would run the +house for you. It makes all the difference if you +have enough money not to have to bother." +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia, your cynical outlook surprises me. +But you see it isn't only things like that. It's +Geoffrey. Loving him would get so frightfully +in the way of my work. I don't believe it's +possible to reconcile everything satisfactorily." +</p> + +<p> +She shut her mouth obstinately and Lavinia +sighed. +</p> + +<p> +"I really am sorry," she said. "I think you +could be perfectly happy, you two; and of +course I'd love it from my own point of view, +so perhaps I'm prejudiced, but still I do think +it's possible." +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't, Lavinia; don't let's talk about it any +more. I must go now; I'm going to shut up the +studio for a bit; come and see me at home. +Mother would love you. She thinks my friends +are apt to be a little erratic, and you'd be a +welcome change. Goodbye and thanks; don't +come down." +</p> + +<p> +As Helen walked home she was racked with +uncertainty. Lavinia had shaken instead of +strengthening her decision. Nothing of this +showed in her manner as she greeted Geoffrey +a little later. He looked pale and ill, and when +she said, "Sit down and be a little comfortable," +he only shook his head, looked at her dumbly, +and remained leaning against the mantelpiece. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey dear," she said. "I've been thinking +and worrying about us, and I've come to the +conclusion that we simply mustn't see each other +any more. I'm sorry; I'm sorry for myself, and +I'm sorry for you, but it's no good." +</p> + +<p> +"You can't suddenly decide a thing like that; +it isn't fair," said Geoffrey, but he spoke +without conviction. +</p> + +<p> +"I have decided," she answered. "There's +no use going over the same old ground; don't +let's discuss it again. I'm going home for a bit, +and I don't know whether I'll come back to this +studio or not, so there's no reason why we should +meet ever if we're reasonably careful to avoid +each other. Goodbye, Geoffrey; I'd like you to +go now." +</p> + +<p> +She spoke coldly, her plans seemed to +be cut and dried, and there was a finality +about her words that rang in Geoffrey's aching head. +</p> + +<p> +"All right," he said. "I'll go now; goodbye." +</p> + +<p> +Left alone, Helen began to pack a suitcase. +As she threw in coats, shoes, and frocks, tears +streamed steadily down her cheeks. Mechanically, +she powdered her nose, locked the studio, +got out her car and drove to Lowndes Square +where she learned that her father and mother +were away for the week-end and her sister out +to dinner. +</p> + +<p> +"I can easily get you something to eat, Miss +Helen, and your room will be ready in a +moment," said the parlourmaid pleasantly, +accustomed to Helen's sudden arrivals and equally +sudden departures. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want any dinner, thanks. I'll have +a hot bath and go straight to bed, and I'd like a +bowl of bread and milk in bed, lots of sugar +and no crusts." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, Miss Helen." +</p> + +<p> +The maid disappeared with her case, as Helen +went into the library to find a book before +following her upstairs. She slept heavily for twelve +hours and wakened to a mood of discouragement +and lethargy. Life seemed meaningless. +The thought of painting did not attract her, she +had no particular engagements, there was +nothing to do. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. and Mrs. Guest, returning in the +evening, were pleased to find her in the library +sitting with her hands idle in her lap, but her +depression persisted and she answered her +Mother's questions with curt monosyllables. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'm all right thanks. No, nothing's +wrong. Really, Mother, I'm all right. I know +I look tired. I've been working very hard, but +please just leave me alone." +</p> + +<p> +In the weeks that followed she was forced to +repeat very often her plea to be left alone. Her +family were used to the sight of Helen working, +but Helen idle and empty-handed was so unusual +that they made unceasing efforts to interest her +in their varying occupations which she as +unceasingly spurned. +</p> + +<p> +A month went past during which she had not +lifted a brush and she was in her sitting-room +one afternoon wondering dismally if she would +ever again be caught by the desire to paint, when +Lavinia was announced. +</p> + +<p> +Helen jumped to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Do come in, Lavinia. I'm nearly mad with +mooning about doing nothing." +</p> + +<p> +"But haven't you been painting?" Lavinia +asked a little maliciously. "I thought you'd +given up Geoffrey so as to be able to paint." +</p> + +<p> +Helen spread out her hands. +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't done a thing," she said. "Not a +single thing and what's more I don't know +whether I ever will or not. Sit down and talk +to me, Lavinia." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't," said Lavinia. "I'm on my way to +Geoffrey now and I thought it just possible that +you would like to come with me. You know he's +been ill?' +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't heard a thing about him. Tell me, +is he really ill? What's wrong with him? I'll +come with you at once." +</p> + +<p> +"He's had influenza very badly. He was +starting it that day you came to tea with me +when Mother was there; he went home that +night very seedy and he's really been pretty +bad. He's much better now, but he's still in bed, +and Mother's going to be out this afternoon so +she rang me up to go and amuse him and I +thought perhaps you'd come too." +</p> + +<p> +"He may not want to see me," said Helen. +</p> + +<p> +"He does, I asked him," answered Lavinia coolly. +</p> + +<p> +Helen's cheeks were glowing, her eyes shining. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll go and change. Wait here for me, I +won't be long," she said imperiously. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I think I'll go on now and you can +follow when you're ready," suggested Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +Helen caught her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Please no," she said. "Please wait. I don't +want to go alone. I'd rather go with you." +</p> + +<p> +"You're shy," said Lavinia accusingly. +</p> + +<p> +Helen was defiant and happy. +</p> + +<p> +"And what if I am?" she said. "I'm going to +ask Geoffrey to marry me, and I'd rather have a +chaperon there to make it more seemly. Wait +here for me." +</p> + +<p> +She rushed upstairs to dress, and came down +in the green frock and hat she had worn to +Lavinia's wedding. +</p> + +<p> +"Look," she said. "Sheer sentiment made me +put this on." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia looked at her standing in the doorway, +tall and upright, the rich green of her frock +bringing out all the colour in her hair and +skin. +</p> + +<p> +"You're lovely," she said impulsively. +"Really lovely. No wonder Geoffrey's quite +mad about you." +</p> + +<p> +"Is he?" asked Helen. "I do hope he is, I +want him to be. You really think then I needn't +be nervous as to whether he'll accept me or +not." +</p> + +<p> +She laughed. "Come on, Lavinia," she said. +"I can't wait. I've had nothing for a month. +Neither my painting nor Geoffrey and evidently +I can't have one without the other, so even if +they fight I'll have to have both." +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly her face sobered. +</p> + +<p> +"It'll be a cat and dog life. Everything I +meant it not to be, but damn it, I can't help it; I +can't do without him." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +III +</p> + +<p> +If Mrs. Greene was distressed by her son's +engagement she concealed it perfectly after the +first moment, when, opening the door of +Geoffrey's bedroom, she was affronted by the sight +of a young woman almost a stranger to her, +sitting on the floor beside Geoffrey's bed, one +arm round his neck, a long leg sprawling, her +little green hat tossed on the hearthrug. +</p> + +<p> +As Edith Greene stood in the doorway her +thoughts were bitter, her expression bleak; but +with undeniable gallantry she bowed to the +inevitable, twisted her face into a semblance of +happy surprise, and coming forward took +Helen's hand as she scrambled to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"My dears," she said, "this is very unexpected. +I didn't even know you knew Miss Guest, +Geoffrey, but I mustn't call you Miss Guest any +longer; it's Helen, isn't it, dear?" She smiled +kindly, sat down on the edge of Geoffrey's bed +and said: "Now tell me all about it." +</p> + +<p> +It was a magnificent recovery. Geoffrey +looked guilty and miserable, but Helen was +filled with admiration. She stood up tall and +unembarrassed, and leaning against the mantel-piece +explained the situation in her quiet voice. +</p> + +<p> +"We really owe you an apology, Mrs. Greene. +Of course you must think it quite unseemly for +me to be here like this, when I've never been in +your house before, but everything has happened +very suddenly. It's even been a surprise to us, +hasn't it, darling?" +</p> + +<p> +She turned to Geoffrey, and Mrs. Greene's +start of annoyance at the last word was +unnoticed. +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey asked me to marry him a long time +ago," she went on. "I wouldn't for several +reasons, chiefly my work. Then only to-day I +suddenly changed my mind and came to tell him +so; at least Lavinia brought me." +</p> + +<p> +"You actually proposed to Helen a long time +ago, Geoffrey dear, and yet you've never +mentioned her name to me?" +</p> + +<p> +The playful reproach in Mrs. Greene's voice +hid successfully the raging resentment in her +heart, but before Geoffrey could answer, Helen +broke in: +</p> + +<p> +"That was entirely my fault. I felt so uncertain +and wretched that the whole thing had to +be kept absolutely private." +</p> + +<p> +"Even from Geoffrey's mother," asked Mrs. Greene +gently. +</p> + +<p> +In the fading light Helen's young face looked +stern, but she, too, spoke gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, even from you, I'm afraid. It was so +vitally important to both of us that whichever +way it had turned, whether we decided to marry +or not to marry, we simply couldn't afford to let +in any outside influence." +</p> + +<p> +"I see," said Mrs. Greene slowly. "I've never +really thought of myself as 'an outside +influence.' My one desire has always been for my +children's happiness. That's what comes first +with me and always will. Geoffrey knows that; +you'll learn it too, dear." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey had caught the undertone of acidity +that betrayed her real feelings, and he made an +effort to placate her. +</p> + +<p> +"You really are amazing, Mother," he said. +"I know it must be a shock to you, but as Helen +says, it's a shock to us too." +</p> + +<p> +She bent and kissed him. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Geoffrey," she said, "I'm sure time +will prove it to be a pleasant shock, not the +reverse; I'm only too glad to have another little +daughter." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey grinned and said tactlessly: +</p> + +<p> +"Not really a little one, Mother; Helen's +quite a bit taller than you are." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene's armour cracked. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be silly," she said sharply. "You +know quite well I wasn't referring to her size." +</p> + +<p> +Putting a hand on his brow she regained her +poise. +</p> + +<p> +"You're quite tired out," she said. "<i>Such</i> a +hot head. Now, Helen, I'm only going to give +you five minutes and then you must come downstairs +and let Geoffrey rest. Come to the drawing-room, +will you, and have a little chat before +you go?" +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, I will," said Helen opening the +door for Mrs. Greene who turned her head to +smile tenderly at Geoffrey, gave Helen's +shoulder a little pat, sighed, and left the room. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +IV +</p> + +<p> +If Helen was secretly disgusted by all the elaborate +preparations for her wedding she disguised +her feelings with considerable skill, and took +part quite naturally, in endless discussions on +trousseaux, red carpets and white satin. Both +her mother and Geoffrey's mother were +delighted at her unlooked-for docility, and +Mrs. Guest admitted quite frankly to Mrs. Greene +that Helen's engagement was having a very +settling effect on her; to which Mrs. Greene +replied firmly: +</p> + +<p> +"Dear Helen. We all expect so much of her +that I'm sure it makes her try to live up to our +ideals." +</p> + +<p> +There was a slight uneasiness in the air on the +evening when Mrs. Greene asked brightly: +</p> + +<p> +"And where are you two thinking of for your +honeymoon?" +</p> + +<p> +Helen looked up from some patterns of shot +silk that she was considering. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, the Hague I think," she said casually. +"There are some moderns there that I rather +want to see, and some quite good old stuff too, +I believe." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh really. Yes, that would be very nice I +suppose. But of course it's a big town. Don't you +think Geoffrey would be happier among beautiful +scenery? The Italian lakes, perhaps, or +mountains if you want to be energetic." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, I'm sure." Helen shrugged +her shoulders. "Would you be happier with +scenery, Geoffrey?" +</p> + +<p> +"I think I'd like the Hague," he said. "For a +week or so, anyhow, and then we can move on." +</p> + +<p> +"You know, dear," said Mrs. Greene reasonably, +"your interest in pictures is a very specialised +thing. You mustn't expect Geoffrey to feel +quite as you do about them. I don't think he +knows very much about art." +</p> + +<p> +Helen's face was grim. +</p> + +<p> +"He doesn't," she answered, "but he'll +learn." And her mouth shut ominously. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Greene got up discreetly and murmuring +something about dressing for dinner, went upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling," said Geoffrey. "Mother thinks we +are now about to quarrel fiercely, but we aren't, +are we?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not. I don't mind your not knowing +anything about painting so long as you don't +mind my concentrating on it a good deal." +</p> + +<p> +"You know I don't. Tell me, Helen, is all +this business driving you to frenzy?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not a bit. I think it's frightfully +obscene, dressing up in white satin and being +handed over to you at a given moment, but I +can easily cope with it. Isn't there something +about 'straining at a gnat and swallowing a +camel'?" +</p> + +<p> +"And I'm the camel," said Geoffrey sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you are," Helen answered calmly. "And +you understand the position perfectly well. You +know I am marrying you quite reluctantly for +the simple reason that I love you to distraction." +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey's face cleared. +</p> + +<p> +"I am a fool," he said. "It's quite all right, +Helen, and you're being marvellously good +about all this sickening detail." +</p> + +<p> +Helen shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +"It's your mother who's marvellous," she +said. "She really is a masterpiece. I've never seen +anything so well done as her pose. She is so +affectionate and maternal that anyone would +think she was delighted with me. In fact she's +almost coy, and yet she can't help disapproving +of almost everything I say or do." +</p> + +<p> +"No, that isn't true; she's approved of you +quite a lot lately." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh well, perhaps she has, but only because I +have given way about all sorts of conventional +details that go quite against the grain with me." +</p> + +<p> +"Why have you, darling," Geoffrey asked +curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, she swallowed me so magnificently in +the first place that I felt I had to help to bolster +up her attitude. It would be rather pathetic +really, if she knew we understood her so well. +She is a person who needs to be wrapped in the +illusion of success." +</p> + +<p> +"It's kind of you to feel like that, I think, +though it would kill her to realise that you knew +so much about her that you were simply being +decent to her." +</p> + +<p> +"Anyhow it's only a few more weeks now." +</p> + +<p> +"Six weeks and three days, my dearest, and +after that we won't see much of them and +everything will go quite smoothly." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, no, it won't, Geoffrey," Helen's eyes +flickered dangerously, "it won't go the least +smoothly, it will be up and down like a very +rough crossing, but perfectly lovely all the +same." +</p> + +<p> +"Dear heart, I'm sure of that; if only I can +keep you happy." +</p> + +<p> +"You needn't have any doubts, Geoffrey. +I'm perfectly certain that fundamentally we're +right for each other." +</p> + +<p> +The next few years proved the truth of +Helen's words. Their honeymoon was exhausting, +awkward, and ecstatic but not, they decided, +more exhausting and awkward than other +people's honeymoons, and on the other hand, +certainly more ecstatic. +</p> + +<p> +"It's odd how you stimulate me mentally," +said Helen a little while after they got home to +the house in Cheyne Walk which Mrs. Rodney +so often referred as "very bright of course, but +rather too bizarre for my taste." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think it is odd," contradicted Geoffrey, +"ever since we met we've acted as mutual +goads to each other." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes I know," Helen answered impatiently, +"but it was different before we were married. +Really you know, I didn't do any decent work +between getting to know you and now. You +remember that poster I was so pleased with? +Well it's quite awful. I was on the wrong tack +altogether but now I do know what I'm about, +I entirely understand about the unity of angles." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't suggest, do you, that I'm +responsible for enlarging your comprehension of +angles?" asked Geoffrey laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"No of course not; you hadn't anything to do +with it. I only mean that I'm very clear and free +in my mind just now, and that is partly because of +you. You don't hinder me at all, you help me." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad," said Geoffrey, "keep free if you +can; there's no need to get in a mess with +things." +</p> + +<p> +"I certainly won't." Helen was emphatic. "I +know your wretched aunt and all sorts of people +expect to be asked here just because I'm newly +married and have a new house, but I simply +won't do it. And I'm not going to pay any calls +either." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want you to do things like that. +Lavinia does it plenty enough for one family, +and Hugh's wife, when he has one, is sure to be +a model of propriety. But I want you to go on +being Helen Guest even if you are Mrs. Geoffrey +Greene. Don't fuss about my family." +</p> + +<p> +"You do understand remarkably well, Geoffrey. +I'd have to go my own way in any case, but +I'm terribly glad you're with me in my policy +of being ruthless." +</p> + +<p> +By means of keeping to this policy of ruthlessness +life went happily for the young Geoffrey +Greenes. There was a period of stress and strain +in the second year of their marriage when Helen +decided that a frankly futurist style was the only +one in which she could express herself sincerely. +Her first attempts were almost ludicrously +unsuccessful, and Geoffrey was so rash as to burst +out laughing as he looked at a canvas in which +a large purple cylinder placed on a still larger +purple cylinder, and surmounted by a smaller +cylinder of shrimp pink faintly spotted, was +entitled simply "Country woman." +</p> + +<p> +Helen looked at him coldly. +</p> + +<p> +"Aren't you being a little crude, Geoffrey?" +she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't mislay your sense of humour, I do +implore you," he urged still laughing, "I expect +this is a very important picture, but to the +uninitiated eye it's very funny." +</p> + +<p> +"That's just the trouble, Geoffrey. You are +uninitiated—almost painfully so. I've been +feeling out of sympathy with you for some time. +I'm prepared to agree with you that this is bad +work, though the idea is perfectly sound, +but I think it's bad because of you. I'm +being clogged by marriage, it's hampering me +appallingly." +</p> + +<p> +"You're working yourself up, Helen," said +Geoffrey curtly, "I refuse to be made responsible +because you do bad work." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry." Helen's voice was hard. "But +the fact remains that indirectly you are responsible. +Marriage is not conducive to good work, +and I've decided to cut it out for a time anyhow. +I'm quite contented to go on living in this house +if you will arrange to sleep in your dressing-room +and leave me entirely unmolested." +</p> + +<p> +"You're unpardonable. I don't know how you +dare use a word like that about me." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll apologise for it if you like, it wasn't +the word I meant. But I wish to be quite free +and not be expected to sleep with you again." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly," Geoffrey agreed stiffly, "that is +for you to decide." +</p> + +<p> +Their reconciliation a few weeks later was +disproportionately trivial. Helen's futurist fever +had burned itself out, and she was temporarily +high and dry without any interest in art. +</p> + +<p> +Geoffrey came into her studio one night to find +her looking ruefully at "Country Woman." She +went up to him and kissed him. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been a bloody fool, Geoffrey darling, +I'm terribly sorry. You were quite right; it really +is a ghastly picture. Let's burn it now." +</p> + +<p> +"You've been awful," said Geoffrey, but his +voice was kind. +</p> + +<p> +"I know I have, but I swear I never will +again. Come on, let's burn it." +</p> + +<p> +Childishly they cut the canvas into strips, +crumpled it up, and crammed it into the fire, +and as Helen quoted happily "if thine eye offend +thee pluck it out" the last traces of Geoffrey's +resentment melted and he held her to him with a +passion intensified by the past weeks of restraint. +No quarrel marked the end of her next phase, +which was a return to the impressionist style of +her pre-marriage period. +</p> + +<p> +"It's no good," she proclaimed dismally, "I'm +doing rotten work." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you're not going to blame me and +marriage this time?" asked Geoffrey, with a faint +accent of anxiety under his light manner. +</p> + +<p> +Helen smiled at him frankly. +</p> + +<p> +"Good God, no," she said, "I know better now. +I've got you perfectly in place, Geoffrey. You're +the one absolutely necessary thing in my life that +I shall probably always stick to. All this stuff," +she waved an airy hand round the studio, "is +variable, if you know what I mean. I can't do +without it, but it changes. Heaven knows it's bad +enough now, but sometime I'm going to do +something good." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean you've arranged your life in +compartments, with me in one and your painting +in another, and so on?" +</p> + +<p> +"No I don't mean that. I did try it at one +time, but it was hopeless. When I got mad with +my painting, my rage overlapped out of +the painting compartment into yours. But +now it's different; you're separate from +everything and yet at the bottom of everything. +I can't explain quite what I mean, but it works +all right." +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, do you mean that in your mind I'm +independent of the other things you care about, +but in a way they are dependent on me?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I think that's it. Anyhow I'm happy." +</p> + +<p> +"So am I, Helen, really frightfully happy." +</p> + +<p> +"And what's more Geoffrey I think I'll probably +be able to fit a child in too." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean that you want one? Don't do +it for me; I'm perfectly satisfied with things as +they are." +</p> + +<p> +Helen came over and sat beside Geoffrey on +the sofa, leaning back in her corner and gazing +at the fire. She was silent for a few minutes, and +Geoffrey looking at the firelight playing over +her bright hair wondered vaguely what she was +thinking. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think I specially want one," she said +at last, "at least if I do it's for pure idiotic +sentimental reasons. But on the other hand I'm not +sure that I won't paint better after I've had one; +you can't be certain really that every possible +experience isn't all to the good." +</p> + +<p> +"I think probably it is," agreed Geoffrey, "Of +course I like you to want one for idiotic +sentimental reasons; it makes me feel surer of you; +but quite apart from that there is your painting. +I know you're depressed about it just now and it +might start you off working again if you had a +child." +</p> + +<p> +"Geoffrey, you're rather sweet to me," said +Helen impulsively, "I think it's touching of you +to understand that having a baby might make +me paint better. It's a topsy turvy idea I know, +but I can't help seeing it in that way." +</p> + +<p> +"Sometime I suppose you'll get used to my +being able to see things from your point of +view," said Geoffrey contentedly. +</p> + +<p> +Helen lifted his hand and kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think I'll get too used to you, darling," +she said, "I really love you very much." +</p> + +<p> +The telephone rang in the hall before Geoffrey +could answer her. +</p> + +<p> +"Damn," she said getting up lazily, "I'm sure +that's your mother, she always rings up at this +time of night because she feels sure of getting +us both at once." +</p> + +<p> +She shut the door, and the one-sided conversation +was too subdued to interrupt Geoffrey's +thoughts. They were entirely pleasant. His +marriage satisfied him mentally and delighted him +physically. His occasional fierce quarrels with +Helen seemed mere surface disturbances; they +did not affect in the slightest their mutual love, +though they undoubtedly eradicated in Geoffrey +any tendency towards complacency. +</p> + +<p> +He lay stretched out luxuriously on the sofa, +and looking back, found that the storms and +agonies that had preceded his engagement were +dim in his memory. They belonged to a stage +that was definitely over. +</p> + +<p> +Helen came back into the studio, her eyes dancing. +</p> + +<p> +"You needn't tell me," said Geoffrey, "I can +see by your face that you've been talking to +mother. What's she done now?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Geoffrey, it really is gorgeous. She's got +the most perfect idea. You know Hugh and +Jessica are coming back on Tuesday? Well, she +proposes to have a party the Friday after for +your grannie and great-aunt Sarah and aunt +Dora and Jessica and me. All six of us do you +see? And such husbands as there are, naturally." +</p> + +<p> +"It sounds monstrous. Must we go?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course we must, and it isn't monstrous at +all. I do wish you appreciated your mother; +she'll be at her best stage-managing a thing like +that. It will be a perfect puppet show; she'll +pull the wires and we'll dance." +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, why do you dance? Is it pure malice?" +</p> + +<p> +"No it isn't. A little bit, yes. I do love to see +how far she'll go. When we talk about art, for +instance, I give her cues to see if she'll take +them, and she does every time. Out she trots the +same old clichés; it never fails. But mostly it's +because I really admire her; she's so consistently +unreal, she isn't a person at all, she's a peg hung +with old worn out conventions and traditions, +and yet she comports herself as if she were more +real than any one else in the world." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm her son; am I unreal too?" Geoffrey +asked soberly. +</p> + +<p> +"My darling, you're not." +</p> + +<p> +Helen stood away from him, looking down at +him serenely, her hands clasped loosely in front +of her, her manner serious. +</p> + +<p> +"You're real to me, just as I expect she and +your father are real to each other. I'm an +individualist. I suppose I'm what people would +call temperamental, but I'm not entirely +imbecile. I appreciate quite clearly that I have an +enormous lot in common with your mother. As +regards the ordinary practical things of life we +do just the same as your parents did. I don't +mean only things like marrying, and having +children, and dying. But we're the product of +the same education and very much the same kind +of home. We have the same income, and move +in much the same set. The differences between +us are mainly superficial and illusionary. Your +mother, for instance, has an illusion about +motherhood and all that, and I have one about +art, but we're both in the tradition of suitable +wives for the male Greene." +</p> + +<p> +"It <i>is</i> odd to hear you talk like that. I should +have thought that you would have passionately +repudiated any sort of kinship with mother. And +surely the differences between people are very +sharp? Whatever you may say, you're very +distinct from other people." +</p> + +<p> +"Not now," said Helen positively. "When I +was very young, yes, and when I'm old then I'll +be Helen Guest again, but now I'm just beginning +on the middle years and your mother's just +getting to the end of them, but we've all the +experiences of life in common, even if we do +approach them from a totally different stand-point." +</p> + +<p> +"I see what you mean. But you won't change +will you, Helen? You won't be less yourself if +you have a baby?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I think I'll change; I don't think I'll be +less myself but anyhow you'll have to risk that." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't want you any different," said Geoffrey +very quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Helen threw back her head and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"You don't know," she said, "I may become +too awful, or I may improve enormously; the +only single certain thing is that within the next +year or two I'm going to do some good work." +</p> + +<p> +"You're like mother in one way anyhow: in +your brutally uncompromising optimism." +</p> + +<p> +"And in another way too," Helen countered +swiftly, "that I do most genuinely love one of +the Mr. Greenes." +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +MRS. HUGH BECKETT GREENE +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3> +MRS. HUGH BECKETT GREENE +</h3> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +Jessica Deane wakened very early on her +wedding morning and got up at once to look at +the weather. The sun was slowly climbing up +a clear sky, and there was a cold frostiness in +the air that matched her mood. She looked out +westwards over the roofs in the direction of the +Greenes' house, and wondered whether Hugh +were asleep or awake, and if awake whether he +were feeling like her, keenly strung up, and +exquisitely expectant, or only nervous and +worried at the thought of dressing up to face a +crowded church and a still more crowded reception. +</p> + +<p> +She crossed over to the long mirror and +studied her face at close range. It would be +awful to have a spot on my chin, she thought +anxiously, even the smallest beginning of a spot +would spoil my nerve, or a bloodshot eye, or +hiccups at the last minute. What appalling things +might happen to destroy me to-day. +</p> + +<p> +The mirror faithfully reflected back her own +expression of dismay as she thought of all the +depressing contingencies that might arise, and +as she looked at it her face broke into a smile. +Satisfied that even a close scrutiny showed no +blemish, she stepped back a pace and looked at +herself in detail. +</p> + +<p> +My hair grows well, she thought dispassionately, +I'm glad it's so fair and goes back like +that off my forehead, but I think my eyes are +too wide apart, and really my chin is almost +negligible, it fades away to nothing. In fact +twenty years ago I would have been plain, it's +pure luck that my kind of face happens to be in +the mode at present. It's lucky too that Hugh +is so dark; we ought to look nice together. +</p> + +<p> +Her mind plunged forward a few hours; and +she laid a nervous hand on her heart beating so +lightly and quickly under the lace of her +nightgown as she thought of herself and Hugh +standing at the flowered altar with rows and +rows of massed curious faces behind. +</p> + +<p> +Seized by a sudden desire to reassure herself +by a sight of her wedding frock, Jessica went +quietly into the spare bedroom where frock, +train and veil were spread out on the bed. She +lifted the white sheet that protected them and +looked at the shining gold tissue of frock and +train, and the old ivory veil lent by her +godmother; then suddenly picking them up she +bore them off to her room. +</p> + +<p> +Of course it's desperately unlucky to try on +your frock when it's quite finished—she argued +with herself—but Hugh and I don't need luck +and I'm not superstitious, and I would terribly +like to make sure that it's as nice as I think it is. +Taking off her nightgown she put on a new +vest of yellow silk to match the frock, gold +stockings and the pointed gold shoes that were +to carry her up the aisle as Jessica Deane and +down again as Jessica Greene. +</p> + +<p> +Just as she slipped the frock over her head, +and struggled into the long close-fitting sleeves, +a voice from the doorway said, "Darling, are you +mad? I heard you bumping about and thought +I'd better come and see if you were having a +nerve storm or something." +</p> + +<p> +"Do come and help me, Drusilla, it's a frightfully +difficult dress to get into. Pull it down all +round will you; I just suddenly felt I had to +put it on." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica's face, faintly flushed from her +struggle, appeared out of a swirl of gold, and +she blushed deeper with embarrassment as she +confronted her sister's cool, critical gaze. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose I am silly," she said defiantly, "In +fact I know it's silly to be trying on my wedding +dress at this unearthly hour in the morning, but +brides are always allowed to behave idiotically +on their wedding day." +</p> + +<p> +"Not this sort of idiocy, though," said Drusilla +calmly, "tears and hysterics, and changing +your mind at the last minute if you like, but not +just pure vanity. I think that's all right now." +</p> + +<p> +Drusilla, who was kneeling to pull down the +long skirt, leaned back on her heels and fingered +its stiff folds. +</p> + +<p> +"It's lovely," she said, "I'm glad you had it +long enough to touch your toes, and I'm glad +it's a picture frock too. I know they're overdone, +but they do suit us, we're just the type." +</p> + +<p> +She got up and stood in her green dressing-gown +beside Jessica in her formal gold tissue. +</p> + +<p> +"We're absurdly alike," said Jessica looking +in the mirror at their two faces, with the same +broad foreheads, grey eyes, pointed chins, and +backward springing yellow hair, "If anything, +I think you're prettier than me." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said Drusilla, complacently. +"You vary more of course, but at your best I +think you're a little better than me. Anyhow +we'll both be all right to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"I do hope so. You know I really feel looks +matter frightfully. I feel so entirely right +about Hugh, and I would like to look as +dazzling as I feel, but it simply isn't possible." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you really as much in love as all that?" +Drusilla asked curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I am," answered Jessica, her face intent +and serious, "I'm madly in love and so is Hugh, +and we think we can pull off a really lovely +marriage." +</p> + +<p> +Drusilla sighed. +</p> + +<p> +"You're a funny whole-hearted little creature," +she said. "It's queer that I'm two years +older than you, and I've never been the least +bit in love." +</p> + +<p> +"Do just get me out of this," said Jessica, but +as she began to pull the long sleeves over her +hands a sudden shaft of sunlight struck across +the room, and lit up her yellow hair and her +gold gown. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh look, Drusilla, how beautifully lucky; +what a proper omen." +</p> + +<p> +She twisted herself so that the sun caught her +shining train. +</p> + +<p> +"I think it is rather lucky," Drusilla assented, +"here, let me take it off before you tear it on +anything." +</p> + +<p> +"Drusilla, let's go and look at the presents +again," said Jessica, as she carefully hung the +discarded frock over a chair, and put on her +dressing-gown. +</p> + +<p> +"You really are crazy, I think; you've seen +them a thousand times." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes I know, but never in the early morning, +and they'll look quite different. Besides, two +came last night and I want to put them with the +others in the billiard-room." +</p> + +<p> +"Come on then if you must, but for goodness +sake be quiet. Mother will be unhinged if she +thinks you're awake so early. You're supposed +to be having breakfast in bed at ten, aren't +you?" +</p> + +<p> +Very quietly Jessica and Drusilla crept downstairs, +turning to smile at each other when a step +creaked, with an expression of childish guilt for +the clandestine little expedition. As they reached +the bottom of the stairs the banisters cracked +loudly. Jessica seized Drusilla's hand, giggled +and ran across the hall into the billiard-room, +where the presents in a glittering mass covered +the large table and smaller tables placed round +the walls. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you know, I believe I'm rather excited," +said Jessica, giggling again, "I never meant to +be and I don't expect I will be after breakfast, +but at present I feel just silly." +</p> + +<p> +"You're light-headed I think. But it will +wear off later on. And it's better than being +gloomy. Do you remember how awful Marjorie +was? I shall never forget how you and I +spent the whole morning propping her up, and +talking endlessly about all sorts of imbecile +things, because as soon as we stopped she cried." +</p> + +<p> +Drusilla and Jessica laughed out loud at the +thought of their eldest sister's wedding four +years ago when the bride had gone to the altar +as if to a sacrifice, with tears and forebodings. +</p> + +<p> +"How ugly our bridesmaids' frocks were +too," said Jessica reminiscently. "You know it's +funny how unlike us Marjorie is; you and I +always laugh at the same things, and take the +same things seriously, and we look alike too, but +Marjorie is hopelessly different; so very +homespun somehow." +</p> + +<p> +"You're not quite homespun enough you +know; I often wonder how you'll stay the +course." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Drusilla, don't be so sinister I implore +you, or I'll go all weepy like Marjorie. Besides +I'm not half so trivial and erratic as you think. +I'm pretty solid really; it's only when I think +of Hugh I feel like a gas-filled balloon." +</p> + +<p> +"This is a ghastly thing," said Drusilla +inconsequently lifting up a heavy silver cake stand +and turning it about to see if there was any angle +at which it could be considered anything but +ugly. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, isn't it atrocious. But at least it's silver. +Just think of the Blakes giving us that awful +electro-plate tea-pot when they are as rich as +Crœsus too. I think it's pretty stingy of them, +and it's a hideous shape too." +</p> + +<p> +"Well they don't like you, you know," said +Drusilla calmly, "They think you're aggressively +modern and probably rather fast, so really it +was very good of them to give you anything." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see that at all. They only did give it +me because they like Mother and Daddy; it was +nothing to do with me at all. Drusilla, isn't it +funny how people show off with wedding +presents? That huge china jar from the Carters +I mean, obviously chosen for its bulk, and I'd +simply have loved it if it had been so small you +could hardly see it; about as big as a thimble +perhaps." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica wandered down the long table, touching +the silver objects carelessly, but gently +stroking the china. Drusilla, who was draping a +Spanish shawl more elegantly over a screen, +looked up and laughed at her. +</p> + +<p> +"You really are impossible," she said, "How +could you want a jar the size of a thimble. That +one will be useful for umbrellas too." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica clasped her hands passionately. +</p> + +<p> +"I know," she said, "I know one must have +umbrellas, and things must be big, but I'd like +to be a dwarf and live in an exquisite little +Japanese garden. Small things are so very rare." +</p> + +<p> +"Not really," Drusilla disagreed, "they're +often very mean and cunning." +</p> + +<p> +"How vile you are to disagree with me to-day," +said Jessica happily. "Oh, Drusilla, just +look at this! Four sets of coffee cups all cheek +by jowl! How shockingly tactless! All the +people who gave me coffee cups will have their +feelings terribly hurt, and wish they had given +me mustard pots instead. I must rearrange them. +One here and one there wouldn't be so noticeable." +</p> + +<p> +Drusilla picked up a small jeweller's box +and looked at the long string of jade curled +round on the white velvet lining. +</p> + +<p> +"A gorgeous present," she commented, "Jade +is lovely stuff, and it suits you too. Really I +think it very decent of old Mrs. Hugh to give +you a personal present like that." +</p> + +<p> +"I like her; she's rather a pet. And I like +Hugh's Grannie too, she's frightfully nice. I do +hope she likes me because I know she loves +Hugh and I'd hate to come between them. It's +only Hugh's mother I'm frightened of, though +I like her too. You know, sooner or later I'm +bound to shock her. She thinks I'm a child, +and Hugh and I are a pretty little couple and +so on, and if I said something was bloody—and +I might easily, even with her there—she'd have +a fit." +</p> + +<p> +"You probably will give her a shock some +time. She's absolutely wrapped in illusions as +far as I can see, especially about her children." +</p> + +<p> +"I know she is," Jessica sighed, "you know, +Drusilla, I'd like to have a good many children, +especially boys I think, but I'd rather drown +them at birth than live on them as Mrs. Greene +does." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +Jessica relapsed into vagueness. "I don't +know," she said, "only she seems so mixed up +with them somehow, and Hugh is so utterly +exquisite when you think of him as an isolated +identity." +</p> + +<p> +"He is rather, but you'd better not think of +him as an isolated identity; he isn't ever likely +to be, he's part of a very compact family and +you'll be part of it too." +</p> + +<p> +"I know, I'll have to get used to it, and it +doesn't really matter. I'd swallow a clan of +Jews from Whitechapel to get Hugh, if I had +to." +</p> + +<p> +The hall clock struck seven. +</p> + +<p> +"Haven't you finished fussing over the +presents yet," said Drusilla. "You must have +spaced out the coffee cups by now, and I do +think you ought to go back to bed again for a bit." +</p> + +<p> +"All right, I'll come now. The maids will be +up in a minute, and we'd better creep back now +before they hear us." +</p> + +<p> +They stole quietly upstairs and Jessica got +into bed again. +</p> + +<p> +"Stay a minute, Drusilla, sit on the bed and +let's talk," she said, and immediately fell silent. +Drusilla waited. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what about it?" she asked at last. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," said Jessica seriously, "there +really is nothing to say at all. Here I am sort of +suspended in mid-air between never-been-married, +and never-again-be-unmarried, and +I'm not sure that I'll ever feel anything much +lovelier than this, just waiting till I see Hugh +this afternoon at 2.30 exactly." +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, you're all agog. It is nice. I wish I +could fall in love like that." +</p> + +<p> +"I used to think you were a little fond of +Stephen Wilcox, weren't you?" asked Jessica +curiously, "but don't say so if you'd rather not; +it's an indelicate question." She blushed +furiously, but Drusilla answered quite unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, yes, I was rather, but one night at a +dance he kissed me a lot, and got very worked +up, and it struck me as just funny and rather +clumsy. I didn't have the faintest thrill, so I +knew it wouldn't do." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not at all like that," Jessica spoke with +solemn emphasis. "I get the most extraordinary +thrills when Hugh kisses me. He musses all my +clothes and untidies my hair, and my face gets +all blotched and red, and I simply love it. In +fact I think I'm very passionate, and it's a good +thing if I am, because Hugh says he is." +</p> + +<p> +"God knows how he manages it with those +parents, but I should think he may be all the +same, he's so good-looking." Drusilla yawned. +"I think I'd better go now," she said, "you look +sleepy, and I am too, and it's still nearly two +hours till breakfast." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh don't go yet, stay one more minute," +Jessica begged, "I do like talking to you. +Drusilla; I feel most awfully glad I'm a +virgin. Isn't it lucky? It would be terrible to +have a past, don't you think, so disappointing +somehow." +</p> + +<p> +"You're being incredibly Victorian; all worked +up and excited and old-fashioned, and besides, +my girl, you have a past. What about that awful +boy Richardson when you were seventeen?" +</p> + +<p> +Jessica's face and neck crimsoned slowly. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't tease me about that," she said, "I can +hardly bear to think of it, it was so undignified +and vulgar, and when Mother found us kissing +in the garage it was absolute Hell. I can hardly +believe it's two years since it happened; it feels +like yesterday." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sorry I teased you then," said Drusilla +smiling, "honestly I thought you'd have forgotten +all about it by now. Anyhow it's not +important in the least I promise you." She stood +up and looking down at Jessica added "Really +you're not to fuss about it now; Hugh is charming, +and you'll be married to him in a minute +and live happily ever after." +</p> + +<p> +"I know I will," said Jessica lazily, and as +Drusilla shut the door she turned over and +smoothed her pillow happily conscious that the +next morning Hugh's dark head would be lying +on it, beside her. Darling Hugh, she thought +drowsily, and fell asleep regardless of the +sunlight on her face. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +The sound of her mother's voice woke her +for the second time. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear child, do you know it's half past +ten? I really thought I'd better wake you to +have some breakfast." +</p> + +<p> +She was followed by a maid carrying a tray, +and as Jessica pushed back her hair, rubbed her +eyes and sat up, Mrs. Deane took the tray, put +it on a table and sat down on the bed. She kissed +Jessica and smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"You know I feel quite sentimental," she +said, "and a little excited too. After all, here you +are, my youngest daughter on her wedding day, +a most thrilling event for any mother." +</p> + +<p> +"You're every bit as bad as I am, Mother. +Do you know when I was awake before, I felt +so silly that I couldn't stop giggling! Do you +know the feeling?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I do, but oh, my dear"—Mrs. Deane +caught her breath—"I'm going to miss +you terribly. The house will be as quiet as a +tomb without you. When I sit in the front pew +this afternoon watching you and your father +come up the aisle, I shall shed tears into my +bouquet." +</p> + +<p> +"You mustn't darling, really you mustn't. I'll +be completely mortified if you do. I can't have +you weeping at my wedding. I know Marjorie +will, and that'll be bad enough, heaven +knows." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you must have your breakfast now, +anyhow," said Mrs. Deane getting up decisively +to pour out the coffee, "but I warn you that +whatever you say, I shall shed a tear or +two. What I shall do when Drusilla marries +I can't think. Thank goodness I've still got +her." +</p> + +<p> +"By that time you'll have shoals of grandchildren +to console you," Jessica suggested comfortably. +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Jessica——" began Mrs. Deane, +but broke off suddenly and continued, "Oh well +I suppose you young things know your own +business best, but I could never even have +thought a thing like that on my wedding morning." +</p> + +<p> +"No darling, I don't suppose you could, but +then your generation was so stuffy, wasn't it?" +said Jessica gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Some of us were very happy anyhow," retorted +Mrs. Deane, kissing Jessica again, "I +couldn't want anything better for you than to be +as happy with Hugh as I've been with your +father. But really, my dear, it's very naughty of +you to keep me here gossiping. I have a +hundred and one things to see to, in fact I must +go this minute and see if the bouquets have +arrived yet. Eat a proper breakfast and don't +hurry." +</p> + +<p> +As Mrs. Deane opened the door Drusilla +appeared on the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Mother," she said with an accent of the +deepest reproach, "you're no good at all. You +ought to have been having a serious talk with +Jessica. I've been eavesdropping for hours, +hoping you would begin to instruct her in the +facts of life, and all I heard was her telling you +you were stuffy!" +</p> + +<p> +When Mrs. Deane blushed she looked like +both her daughters, and now she twisted her +fingers in a gesture that Jessica, too, was +betrayed into in moments of embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +"Really you are terrible," she said distractedly, +"both of you. I don't know which of you +is the most indelicate. I shall go and take refuge +with the caterers and the furniture men. They +have much nicer minds than either of my +daughters. Good-bye, darlings." +</p> + +<p> +She hurried out and Drusilla took her place +on Jessica's bed. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm holding a series of audiences this morning," +said Jessica, "Obviously it's the proper +thing for all the family to tip-toe in and +peep at me ghoulishly to make sure I +haven't faded away in the night. Isn't mother +a duck?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, she's rather sweet," answered Drusilla, +"and frightfully competent too. You know there +is a vast amount of arranging to be done for a +show like this, and you and I haven't done a +hand's-turn to help, have we?" +</p> + +<p> +Jessica's white forehead wrinkled into a frown. +</p> + +<p> +"It's rather worrying," she began. "Of course +I shan't have to bother about anything on my +honeymoon. Hugh is marvellous about trains +and arrangements and he can do it all, but I +suppose in a month when we come home I'll +have to settle down and be a proper person, and +everyone will criticise me." +</p> + +<p> +"Not any more than they do now surely?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, far more. A few of the Greene relations +may swallow me, but most of them will +think everything I do is wrong, and they'll be +sorry for Hugh, and you know quite well, +Drusilla, that I shall never be able to scold the +servants." +</p> + +<p> +"I think that probably comes with practice," +Drusilla reassured her, "and, anyhow, you aren't +going to be living so far away that we can't keep +an eye on you." +</p> + +<p> +"I know. That does help of course. But +Drusilla I do feel I must go on letting Hugh +be a Greene; I mustn't try to absorb him into +our family. I really have a scruple about it." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I don't think you need have. There +isn't the faintest chance of Hugh being disassociated +from his family. But anyhow you're full +of contradictions; only this morning you said +you thought of him as an isolated fragment or +something." +</p> + +<p> +"Really Drusilla, you're very dense +sometimes," said Jessica a little piqued, but Drusilla +only laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"You can't possibly understand," began +Jessica, but at the sound of a car drawing up at +the front door below with a good deal of +unnecessary hooting, she stopped and sat bolt +upright, a scarlet patch of excitement on either +cheek. +</p> + +<p> +"Drusilla, that's Hugh!" she said, and jumping +out of bed she darted over to the window, +pushed it up and hung out, waving wildly. +</p> + +<p> +Drusilla leaned over her shoulder, and saw +Hugh standing on the steps below carrying two +huge parcels and smiling up at Jessica. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, come up and see me," called Jessica, +"it's most unseemly of you to be here on our +wedding day, but since you are here you must +come up. What have you come for anyhow?" +</p> + +<p> +"Two important presents from two important +people," said Hugh gaily, "Mother wants them +shown in most conspicuous places, and incidentally +she thought she'd better give me a job to +keep my nerves steady." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh are you nervous, Hugh? Do come up at +once, dearest. Why does nobody let you in?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't suppose you've rung, have you?" +Drusilla called down. +</p> + +<p> +"Heavens, I forgot," said Hugh laughing, "I +was just going to when Jessica appeared for the +balcony scene." +</p> + +<p> +He laid down one parcel, and rang the bell, +still looking up. +</p> + +<p> +"Couldn't you throw me a flower or something +romantic?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Jessica tore a small bow of gold ribbon off the +shoulder of her nightgown, kissed it and flung it +down to him. +</p> + +<p> +"There you are," she called, watching it +flutter slowly and uncertainly down to the street, +"my God, it's going down into the area; it'll be +wasted on cook. No it isn't; it's all right." +</p> + +<p> +As her shrill excited tones followed the +flight of the light scrap of ribbon, a shocked and +inquisitive face appeared at the window opposite, +and at the same moment she heard her +mother's voice behind her. +</p> + +<p> +"Jessica, come in at once. This is really too +much; you must not lean out of the window in +your nightgown; Drusilla, you shouldn't have +allowed her." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica waved airily to Hugh, blew a kiss to +the face in the opposite house, drew in her head +and shut the window. +</p> + +<p> +"It's Hugh, Mother," she said as if that +explained the whole situation, "he's down below +with two important parcels from two important +people." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, that makes it worse," said Mrs. Deane +severely, "you were hanging half out of the +window and all the top of your nightgown is +transparent lace. Really I feel quite cross with +you both." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't be cross, darling," implored Jessica. +"My trousseau nighties are far more indecent +than this, and look, I'll put on a dressing-gown +before he comes up." +</p> + +<p> +"He is certainly not coming up, Jessica. It +would be most unsuitable." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica flung her arms round her mother's +neck and kissed her. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, darling," she said, "We won't outrage +you any more; he shan't come up; I'll go +down to him instead." +</p> + +<p> +Laughing, she snatched up her dressing-gown +and ran out of the room and downstairs, her +bare feet flashing white over the green carpet. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Deane laughed reluctantly. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm perfectly helpless with Hugh and Jessica," +she said, "It's no use hoping for any sense +from either of them. Jessica is like a child; +she's quite fey with excitement." +</p> + +<p> +"It's really all right Mother," Drusilla +soothed her. "She's frightfully happy and they +do suit each other well. I honestly think Hugh +understands her perfectly." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I feel that too," said Mrs. Deane, +going out on to the landing, "It's very +satisfactory because Jessica <i>is</i> so temperamental." +</p> + +<p> +She leaned over the banisters and then turned +smiling to Drusilla. +</p> + +<p> +"Just look at them on the landing; they +wouldn't mind if the servants and the caterers +and all the furniture men were drawn up in +rows to look at them." +</p> + +<p> +Quickly sensitive to the watching eyes above, +Hugh looked up. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, Mrs. Deane," he said apologetically, +"I know I oughtn't to be here, but Mother sent +me round with a couple of presents, and now I +am here I must talk to Jessica for a minute." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, of course, my dear," agreed Mrs. Deane, +entirely forgetting her conventional +qualms, "go into my sitting-room; it's the only +room in the house that isn't upside-down. But +really you can only have ten minutes and then +Jessica must come upstairs." +</p> + +<p> +She turned to Drusilla. +</p> + +<p> +"Do go down and talk to your father, dearest. +The servants have chased him from room to +room, and now he's pacing round the billiard +table in a terrible state of nerves. He ought to +have gone to his office; it would have been much +more sensible, but he had a feeling that Jessica +might want him." +</p> + +<p> +"All right, Mother; what are you going to do?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm just going to see that all her things are +properly packed. But you know, Drusilla, I do +not think she should have said her nightgowns +were indecent." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear Mother," said Drusilla decisively, +going downstairs, "if you take seriously any +one thing Jessica may say to-day you will +forfeit all my respect and admiration." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope she'll be serious in church at least," +retorted Mrs. Deane, and went into the spare +bedroom to look a little mournfully at Jessica's +strapped trunks. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +III +</p> + +<p> +In the sitting-room Hugh and Jessica sat down +on the rug in front of the fire. Hugh suddenly +noticed her bare toes. +</p> + +<p> +"My sweet," he said, "did you come running +downstairs to me, all in your bare toes?" +</p> + +<p> +Jessica leaned restfully against him as she +answered: "Of course I did. I didn't dare wait +in case Mother would stop me, and anyhow, I +forgot about slippers." +</p> + +<p> +She took his hand and gently flexed the +fingers one by one. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been mad with excitement all morning," +she said. "And now you are with me I feel +quite comfortable and easy and peaceful." +</p> + +<p> +"We ought always to be together," said +Hugh emphatically. "I hate to think I'll have +to leave you alone every day when I go to the +office." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, but that's years away. A whole month +at least before we need think about it. All the +same I would rather like to be a typist, or +perhaps something a little grander, in your office. +Couldn't it be arranged?" +</p> + +<p> +"It could not, darling; not possibly; but +anyhow it will be good coming home to you in the +evenings." +</p> + +<p> +"It's a pity there are so many magazine +stories," said Jessica hazily, gazing into the +fire. "You know the sort of stuff: bright eyes at +the window, or the little woman at the garden +gate. Now I shall be forced to stay on the sofa +in my elegant yellow drawing-room and when +you come in I shall just look up from my book +in a casual way, and say, 'Hello Hugh!'" +</p> + +<p> +"If you do wait like that I'll know you don't +love me any more. You never wait for people +you love, or even people you like; you always +rush to meet them." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but I'm going to be quite different now. +When I'm a young matron—isn't it a ghastly +expression?—I shall behave like a young +matron and put away childish things and stop +looking through a glass darkly." +</p> + +<p> +"All at once, sweetheart? Jessica, I do love +you so." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh caught her to him and kissed her, but +she gently warded him off. +</p> + +<p> +"I love you too, Hugh; I adore you, but you +mustn't spoil my face. It isn't vanity, but I do +want to look lovely for you to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest, you will. You couldn't look +lovelier than you do now all rumpled and +crumpled, but still I've often looked forward to +your coming up the aisle to me in the gold frock +and train that I've never seen, with a veil all +over your darling face." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not wearing it over my face; it didn't go +with my kind of naked forehead. It just falls +back from a thing they call a fillet. Have you +really imagined that, Hugh?" +</p> + +<p> +"Often. I've lain awake at nights thinking +about it, till sometimes I got so wide awake that +I had to get up and walk about and hang out of +the window, and sometimes I got so drugged +with my own thoughts that I went to sleep +thinking it was really happening." +</p> + +<p> +"It's queer that you should love me so much, +Hugh, but I should die at once if you didn't." +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and a housemaid came in to +see to the fire. +</p> + +<p> +"Go away, Mary," said Jessica, dreamily. +"We've only got ten minutes together; we can't +be interrupted." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so sorry, Miss Jessica," said Mary. "I'll +see that nobody else disturbs you. The fire can +wait." +</p> + +<p> +She closed the door very softly, and went +downstairs to inform the other servants that the +sitting-room fire could await Miss Jessica's +pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Wouldn't it be appalling, Hugh, if we really +had only ten minutes and then you had to leave +me to go to China or some place." +</p> + +<p> +"Awful!" said Hugh shortly, an expression +of pain on his face. +</p> + +<p> +"But we needn't worry," Jessica consoled him. +"We've got all the time there is, haven't we?" +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, we'll need it; I can't ever have +enough of you." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica suddenly shivered. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you cold, my sweet?" he asked +anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a bit. I suddenly thought of something." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica fell silent. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you think of to make you shudder +like that? Tell me, darling." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh held her more closely, but Jessica did +not answer for a moment, and when she did, she +spoke jerkily and nervously. +</p> + +<p> +"I was thinking of that terrifying play +'Hassan.' Do you remember how the two lovers +could either be free and never see each other +again, or else have one night together and then +die in torture? I often think of that and I know +I should choose to have the night with you even +if I did have to be tortured, but still it does +frighten me." +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, don't think of it. We're fools to sit +and frighten each other with idiotic impossibilities. +Besides, every minute of to-day belongs to +me and I insist on you being happy." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh spoke gaily, but as he looked down at +Jessica, he saw two tears hanging on her eyelashes. +</p> + +<p> +"Jessica, dear," he said. "Nothing is really +wrong, is it? You haven't changed your mind +about marrying me, have you?" +</p> + +<p> +Jessica held him convulsively, and smiled, +though her tears fell. +</p> + +<p> +"No, of course not," she said. "Nothing is +wrong. I'm just a damned fool. I love you so +and I get into dreadful panics about losing you +and not having you any more." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll keep you safe, I promise," Hugh spoke +earnestly. "I'll always take care of you, my only +love." +</p> + +<p> +"I know you will, Hugh. It's all right really; +I do feel safe with you. Sometimes I lose my +nerve, that's all, and the other day Mother said +something about not putting all my eggs in one +basket." +</p> + +<p> +"How silly." Hugh laughed scornfully. +"What would be the use of scattering them +about in dozens of baskets. Besides your Mother +did it herself, and very successfully too; she +adores your father." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica sprang to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Hugh," she exclaimed conscience-stricken. +"I've never seen Daddy all day, and I +know he'll be feeling utterly miserable about +losing me. I must go to him at once." +</p> + +<p> +"You're a vain creature; and anyhow, you +don't want to go dashing off this minute to look +for him. I'll have to go soon and you can find +him then." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, dear, I suppose it's all right. I'll wait +till you go." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica sat down again, drew Hugh's arm +round her, and leaned back comfortably on his +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not vain," she said. "But Daddy really +is different. He needs me quite badly just as I +need him, and often I feel guilty for marrying +you and leaving him." +</p> + +<p> +"But, darling, I need you frightfully. Honestly +I need you more than your father. I know +he loves you, but, my dear, I do more than that; +I couldn't live without you." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad," said Jessica. "We're both in the +same boat then." +</p> + +<p> +Forgetting to care about her complexion she +turned her face to Hugh to be kissed. As Drusilla +came in they broke apart from each other, but +Jessica still kept her arms linked around Hugh's +neck. +</p> + +<p> +"Must he go now?" she asked, vaguely. "How +terribly cruel." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I'm afraid he must," said Drusilla. "Its +nearly twelve and it will take you all that time to +bathe and dress and have some sort of meal. But +it isn't really so very cruel you know, Jessica, +you've only got to wait about three hours till +you have him for good." +</p> + +<p> +"It is cruel," Jessica persisted wildly. "He'll +never have me again as Jessica Deane. It will all +be quite different and it's been so lovely up till +now." +</p> + +<p> +"But I'm longing for the end of Jessica +Deane," said Hugh laughing. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't laugh at me; you can't be certain that +everything will be all right; don't laugh at me," +said Jessica brokenly. +</p> + +<p> +Hugh took her in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +"My darling," he said soberly. "I am certain +that everything will be all right. It won't be any +different, only a million times better." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sure, Hugh? Are you really sure?" +</p> + +<p> +"I promise you I am. Listen, sweet, I must go +now and Drusilla will help you to dress and look +after you, won't you, Drusilla?" He looked +appealingly over Jessica's head. "And I'll be +waiting for you when you come up the aisle with +your father, and you must tip me a little wink +when you get to me just to show me you're all +right." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, darling, of course I'm all right," said +Jessica happily. "I am, Drusilla, aren't I? +I'm only a little crazed to-day, it's all so queer +and lovely. I don't know what got me, I just +suddenly felt sad for a minute. I think it was +thinking about Daddy, but I'll go and comfort +him a little when you've gone. Goodbye, my own +dear love." +</p> + +<p> +"I believe this is the only time I've ever said +good-bye to you without getting an actual physical +pain in the pit of my stomach." +</p> + +<p> +"My dears," interrupted Drusilla, still waiting +in the doorway, "I don't want to interrupt +you, but— +</p> + +<p> +"All right, Drusilla, I've gone; better do it +quickly." +</p> + +<p> +Hugh kissed Jessica, ran downstairs and in a +moment the slam of the front door echoed +through the house. +</p> + +<p> +Jessica stood still where he had left her, +staring vacantly after him. +</p> + +<p> +"Jessica, are you asleep?" Drusilla asked her. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head and her eyes lightened. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I'm not. I'm awake and blissfully happy. +Tell me, shall I go and talk to Daddy now, or +have my bath first? I haven't seen him all morning." +</p> + +<p> +"I honestly think you ought to start dressing +first. Daddy's all right. He is prowling round +the house with everyone falling over him and +carrying dishes and things round him." +</p> + +<p> +"Poor darling," said Jessica tenderly. "Don't +let me have too hot a bath," she warned Drusilla +on the way upstairs. "I must be careful not to let +my hair go limp." +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +IV +</p> + +<p> +Dressing was pure delight. Jessica put on for +the second time that day the yellow silk vest, the +long gold silk stockings, and the narrow gold +shoes, but added, this time, yellow silk knickers +and a pair of gold garters. +</p> + +<p> +As she stepped back to look at herself before +putting on her frock, she said earnestly: "I do +hope Hugh will like my shape." +</p> + +<p> +"But surely you know he does," said Drusilla +reassuring. "He thinks you're lovely and you are +rather to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"But he's never seen me stark," said Jessica +simply. "It makes a difference. I think I'm too +boyish-looking. I'd like to be frightfully +feminine just for once." +</p> + +<p> +"But you are in that frock. It really is +charming. Do let me get you into it now. I +ought to go and dress now myself. And here's +Mother." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm all ready, darling," said Mrs. Deane. "I +just came to help to finish you off. Where's +Marchmont?" +</p> + +<p> +"We sent her away because Drusilla was helping +me and I hate a crowd." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'll slip your frock on for you, my +dear, but Marchmont had better arrange the veil, +I think." +</p> + +<p> +"You do look nice, Mother, in all your elegance. +Is Daddy dressed too?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not yet; he's fussing a little." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Mummy, I must see him. Please go and +tell him to come up." +</p> + +<p> +"It will do just as well when you're dressed, +darling; you really must get on." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica suddenly balked. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't," she said. "I really can't put my frock +on till I see Daddy. It's an inhibition." +</p> + +<p> +She giggled softly, and Mrs. Deane looked +at her in consternation as she sat down, still in +her yellow underclothes and twisted her feet, +like a child, round the legs of the chair. +</p> + +<p> +"My dearest Jessica," she remonstrated. "You +must try to be calm or you will make us all +nervous and unhappy." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, darling, I'm sorry," said Jessica, +instantly penitent. "Look, I'll get dressed as good +as gold while you call Daddy." +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke she struggled into her frock and +when Mrs. Deane came back, followed by Mr. Deane, +she ran to her father, trailing her train +across the bedroom floor. +</p> + +<p> +"Dearest," she said, "I've been wanting you +all morning. I've been shut in by a conspiracy of +women. Quite shocking; I feel as if I were in a +harem." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you seemed to have a good long time +with Hugh, I noticed." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh that was only a minute. Besides he came +on business with two presents. Do I look nice?" +</p> + +<p> +Jessica stepped back as she asked the question +and trod on her train. There was a little +ripping sound as it tore away from one shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Jessica, you've torn it. I knew perfectly +well something would happen if you got so +excited. Now I'll have to fetch Marchmont to +mend it." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Deane hurried away, and Mr. Deane +looked guiltily at Jessica. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I'd better get out of this," he said. +"It's no place for me. But just tell me, my dear, +you're quite happy, aren't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I am, Daddy; how do you mean +exactly?" +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Deane cleared his throat nervously. +"I don't mean anything, Jessica. Only if you +have any doubts or worries or anything, far +better call it off now, than go on with it." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke fiercely, and with his eyes averted. +Heedless of her already torn frock Jessica flung +her arms round his neck. +</p> + +<p> +"You're too sweet, darling," she said. "I know +it would kill you to have your daughter jib at +the altar. It really is sweet of you to suggest it. +But I'm all right, Daddy. For once in my life +I'm quite sure, with no after-thought and no +terrors. Hugh's the proper person for me to +belong to. You'd better go now; they're coming to +mend me." +</p> + +<p> +She stood still and quiet while the train was +readjusted, and Mrs. Deane, looking at the +steady glow of colour in her cheeks, felt relieved +and contented. It seemed only a moment till +Drusilla came back wearing her gold bridesmaid's +dress with a heavy mediæval green girdle +falling in two strands to the ground. She was +carrying a bouquet of tawny chrysanthemums +and a sheaf of faintly green speckled orchids +for Jessica. +</p> + +<p> +"Here's your exotic bouquet, my child," she +said. "And I think it's far too macabre for a +bride, but I suppose you like it. And here are +the chicken sandwiches," she added as a maid +entered with a tray. +</p> + +<p> +Another moment for eating the sandwiches, +and then a kiss from her mother, a kiss from +Drusilla, and they were gone to Jessica's +wedding, leaving the house very still, as if all +life in it were suspended. +</p> + +<p> +Jessica came slowly downstairs to the drawing-room +to find her father. He was waiting for +her at the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Come in and sit down," he advised, "We +ought to give them fully five minutes start. That +will be enough." +</p> + +<p> +He looked anxiously at his watch and appraisingly +at Jessica. +</p> + +<p> +"Not nervous, are you dear? You look very +nice indeed, and there's nothing to be nervous +about; it's quite plain sailing now." +</p> + +<p> +He patted her hand fussily, and pulled out +his watch again. Jessica smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"No, I'm not," she said. "Not a scrap. But +you are. You've looked at your watch twice in +the last minute." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense; I'm not at all nervous. I've done +all this before. It's not so very long since I gave +Marjorie away, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"But that was different, wasn't it, Daddy?" +Jessica insinuated softly. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Deane cleared his throat. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, of course, Marjorie was much older +and then she had been engaged a long time and—yes, +well, it was a little different," he finished +lamely. +</p> + +<p> +"You know quite well what I meant, darling; +you're just being evasive. I meant we were +rather special, you and I." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Jessica, we must be sensible," Mr. Deane +looked at his watch. "It's time we were +off; we must allow a little extra in case of a +block. Come along, dear, and be careful with +your train. Your Mother told me to see you +didn't disarrange yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Kiss me once, Daddy, before we go." +</p> + +<p> +"Now be sensible, my dear. Your Mother said +I wasn't to let you get excited." +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, stop quoting Mother at me," said +Jessica as she kissed her father and took his arm +to go downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't let your train touch the step," he adjured +her. "There, that's all right." He stepped +into the car. +</p> + +<p> +"Good wishes, Miss Jessica," said the +parlourmaid, smiling broadly, as she shut the door +and the car started for the church. +</p> + +<p> +"Hugh's made all the arrangements about +tickets and so forth, hasn't he?" asked Mr. Deane. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I think so, Daddy; he's very competent." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I gave your Mother twenty pounds +for you, my dear. Better have some ready +money when you're travelling. She said she +would put it in the purse you were taking away +with you." +</p> + +<p> +"That was kind of you. Thank you, darling. +I know Hugh is taking heaps of money, but it's +useful to have a little of my own." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, quite; that was what I thought. Surely +the car is going very slowly; we must not be +late." He looked at his watch again and added, +"No, it's all right, still seven minutes to the +half-hour and we're nearly there." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica pressed his hand gently. +</p> + +<p> +"Your Mother will miss you," said Mr. Deane +abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +"Not half as much as you will, Daddy. And +I'll miss you, too. I wish you could come with +me. Will you write to me to-morrow, or the +next day, or very soon anyhow." +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly, I will; yes, certainly. But you +mustn't worry. Just take things easily; everything +is perfectly satisfactory and straightforward." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm looking forward to the church bit of it, +but not to the reception so much. But truly, +I'm not fussed, Daddy." +</p> + +<p> +"That's right. There's no need to be. Hugh's +a good boy; if he weren't I'd never have allowed +it." +</p> + +<p> +"Sweetheart, you couldn't have stopped it, +not possibly; nothing could." +</p> + +<p> +"Now, my dear, you must be wise, and don't +exaggerate. Here we are. Be very careful getting +out; your Mother said you might get your train +muddy just here." +</p> + +<p> +As Jessica trailed the long gold train up +the red carpet, she smiled at the eager, peering +faces on either side and when a hoarse voice at +the top said "Good luck, Miss," she half turned +and said, "Thank you, indeed," in her usual clear +steady voice. +</p> + +<p> +A blur of massed faces swam before her eyes +as she peeped into the church from the porch, +while her two small pages caught up the loops +of her train, and the bridesmaids formed +themselves into a procession. +</p> + +<p> +"Now, Jessica, are you ready?" whispered +Mr. Deane urgently, as the organ burst out into +a hymn, and the congregation stood up. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, darling, let's start. I can't see Hugh +from here." +</p> + +<p> +She walked slowly up the long aisle, her face +uncovered, her head not bent in the conventional +attitude, a half-smile of anticipation on +her lips. +</p> + +<p> +Then Hugh's face, a deep voice hurrying +through the prescribed service, her father +leaving her to slip into a pew, her own voice more +distinct than usual, and Hugh's less distinct, a +confused interlude of kisses and congratulations +in the vestry, and once more she was in the car, +this time with Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +"My darling," he said quietly. "My lovely, +darling Jessica." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad now that I'm Jessica Greene because +I love you so." +</p> + +<p> +"Only a little minute, my sweet, and then +we'll get away from these people and be by +ourselves." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mind them. They're all wondering +if we'll be happy and if you'll be good to me, +and thinking back to their own wedding-days +and having lumps in their throats." +</p> + +<p> +"I should certainly have a lump in my throat +if I were old and dull and came to your +wedding, Jessica. You'll never know how +beautiful you looked coming to me." +</p> + +<p> +They sat blissfully silent till the car stopped, +and the parlourmaid was again at the door +smiling brightly as she said: +</p> + +<p> +"Congratulations, Mrs. Greene, please, and +to you, too, Sir." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"It does sound funny," she said. "Thank you, +Morgan. I suppose we ought to hurry upstairs +and get ready in the drawing-room. Come +along, Hugh; the mob may be on us at any +moment." +</p> + +<p> +Three quarters of an hour later after more +congratulations, a steady hum of conversation, +and an exhausting atmosphere of heat, feathers +and flowers, Jessica found herself being +shepherded up to her room by Drusilla. +</p> + +<p> +"It all went beautifully," said Drusilla. +"Really Jessica, you looked as nice as you wanted +to." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, Drusilla, I am so glad it's over, and yet +I enjoyed every single minute, and I would like +to do it all again, but of course I can't, ever. +What a depressing thought." +</p> + +<p> +"You silly little thing. Why be depressed +because you can't have a second wedding before +you've even finished your first. Here, have some +tea. Mother said you must while you were +changing." +</p> + +<p> +"The whole of to-day has been nothing but +eating queer foods at queer times, and saying +thank you and dressing and undressing. I'm +sorry to take my frock off and leave it behind." +</p> + +<p> +"Never mind. We'll have the neck cut a little +lower while you're away and you can wear it for +your first proper dinner-party when you come +home." +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't it odd that I'm not coming home, Drusilla. +I mean that I'm going to another house +with Hugh." +</p> + +<p> +"It's beastly. I'll probably get married +myself now." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think you'd better. It would be such +a blow for the two poor dear lambs." +</p> + +<p> +"Jessica, what cheek! Do you mean that I'm +to be an elderly spinster just so that you can +leave the parents with a clear conscience." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not leaving them with a clear conscience. +I wish I were, but I feel awful about Daddy." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't worry. He loves Hugh you know. +We're bound to feel damnably flat when the +people go and we realise we're alone, but we'll +get over it all right." +</p> + +<p> +"Please don't get over it entirely, Drusilla. I +would like to know you were missing me. Oh, +Marjorie, come in." +</p> + +<p> +Marjorie Sellars kissed Jessica perfunctorily. +"Well, it was all very nice," she said. "I +must say I liked all that gold much better than +I expected to. But Mrs. Greene says she would +have preferred a white wedding so I'm afraid +you've put your foot in it, Jessica." +</p> + +<p> +"What nonsense," said Drusilla irritably. "It +doesn't matter a scrap whether she approved +or not." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't really mind at all." Jessica's voice +was carefree. "She doesn't know much about +clothes, so I don't mind and Lavinia who does +know, liked it awfully." +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia looked very nice, I thought," said +Marjorie. "But your other sister-in-law, Helen, +is very plain, isn't she?" +</p> + +<p> +Jessica and Drusilla gasped. +</p> + +<p> +"You're mad, Marjorie," said Jessica quietly. +"You must surely see that she's definitely +attractive?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not at all; I always think red hair is a little +vulgar," said Marjorie briskly. "But surely it's +time you were dressed, isn't it? When's your +train?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not till 4.45, I think, and I'm just going to +dress." +</p> + +<p> +There was a knock at the door and Lavinia +came in. +</p> + +<p> +"I won't stay," she began, "I'm sure you don't +want me, now, but I had to come and tell you +how nicely it all went. You looked lovely, +Jessica dear." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica grasped her hand. +</p> + +<p> +"How nice you are, Lavinia," she said. "Not +a bit like a sister-in-law. Did you really like it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I did, immensely; so did everyone." +</p> + +<p> +Another knock heralded the entrance of the +five grown-up bridesmaids who filled the room +with their shining frocks and huge bouquets. +</p> + +<p> +"Good Lord," said one, "she hasn't begun to +dress yet. I say, you must hurry, Jessica; people +are all lining up the stairs to see you come down, +but you'll never get through the mob." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I shan't hurry down, anyhow," said +Jessica serenely, pulling off her frock. "And I +won't be a minute, now, I haven't got to change +my underclothes." +</p> + +<p> +"Here are your stockings and shoes, darling," +said Drusilla, and Lavinia snatched a shoe out of +her hand with a little exclamation of pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I do like these lizards. They're beautifully +marked." +</p> + +<p> +"Here, do let me put it on," said Jessica. "And +tell me, do you think it will matter if I stop on +the way down to say goodbye to anyone I specially +like. I do want to have a word with Daddy +in the hall." +</p> + +<p> +"You ought to rush down," said another of +the bridesmaids, "as if you were overwhelmed +with maidenly confusion and escaping from the +plaudits of the crowd." +</p> + +<p> +"I shan't," said Jessica in a muffled voice as +she drew her frock over her head. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I think it will look nice if she goes +slowly," commented a third. "And it's a lovely +going-away frock." +</p> + +<p> +"Now give me my hat," said Jessica, just as +two quiet knocks sounded on the door. Her face +flamed. "There's Hugh," she said. "All go away +now; I'll be down in a minute. Good bye, my +dears, and thank you all for being my bridesmaids." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye and good luck, Jessica," said Marjorie, +crisply, following the shining flock. +"Good-bye, Jessica, dear, have a lovely +honeymoon," said Lavinia, and kissed Hugh as he +stood embarrassed in the doorway. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't go, Drusilla; I haven't said good-bye +to you." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica's mouth trembled, but as Hugh came +over to her, she smiled at him and forgot the +pain of parting with Drusilla. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm ready," she said. "Shall we go now, +Hugh? Take my hand and let's go slowly. I +hate the way they push and run sometimes." +</p> + +<p> +Drusilla went in front to clear a passage, and +Hugh and Jessica followed slowly down, saying: +"Good-bye, Good-bye—Thank you—It's been +lovely—Good-bye—Yes, we've really enjoyed it +ourselves—Good-bye and thank you." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. and Mrs. Rodney Greene were standing +on the first landing. Jessica stopped to kiss them. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye," she said. "I'll keep Hugh +happy," and went on downstairs. +</p> + +<p> +When she met Mrs. Deane a little lower down +the pause was longer. +</p> + +<p> +"Is Daddy at the front door?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, darling, he's waiting for you." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Mother; write to me lots and +don't be depressed." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course, I won't, dear child. Good-bye, +Hugh; take care of her." +</p> + +<p> +Another kiss and they started down again. +The hall was crowded but Drusilla forged +steadily on in front and suddenly Jessica saw her +father on the top step. Dropping Hugh's hand +she ran to him and clung round his neck. +</p> + +<p> +"I hate leaving you. I wish you could come +too," she whispered. "Keep on thinking of me +all the time, Daddy." +</p> + +<p> +"Be happy," said Mr. Deane. "Have a happy +time and don't bother about us. We'll miss you, +but we'll manage all right. Where's Hugh got +to?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm here, sir," Hugh answered happily, +elbowing his friends to one side and gaining a +foothold on the top step. "Good-bye, and thank +you. I'll take care of Jessica." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Hugh; you're all right. And now +good-bye, my darling girl." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Deane helped her into the car, and Hugh +jumped in beside her, but just before they +started Jessica leaned out of the window and +kissed her father again. +</p> + +<p> +"I do love you, Daddy," she said. "And I am +so happy." +</p> + +<p> +"Splendid," said Mr. Deane, stoutly. "Splendid. +Good luck to you both." +</p> + +<p> +He stood on the kerb as the car moved away, +the steps behind him crowded with waving +guests, and then turned and went smiling into +the house, answering questions, laughing and +joking. But he was conscious of a keen and biting +pain when he remembered that the first nineteen +years of Jessica's life had gone like a leaf before +the wind, and at their next meeting she would +be no longer Jessica, daughter of Anthony +Deane, but Jessica, wife of Hugh Beckett +Greene. +</p> + +<p><br><br><br></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> + +<p class="t2"> +ET CETERA +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<h3> +ET CETERA +</h3> + +<p><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +I +</p> + +<p> +On the morning of her dinner party for the five +other Mrs. Greenes, Mrs. Rodney Greene +indulged in a spate of telephone calls. Her first +one, to Lavinia, was in the nature of an appeal +for help. +</p> + +<p> +"Lavinia dear," she began as soon as she got +through, "I want you to help me a little to-night. +It's too bad that Martin can't come; we're +very disappointed that he won't be back till +to-morrow but of course business must come first." +</p> + +<p> +"He's very sorry too, but he simply can't help +it." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I quite understand. But about to-night, +will you be rather specially attentive to Aunt +Dora?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh Mother, I'm not very good with her." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense! She's quite fond of you in her +own way, and you know she feels a little hurt +that Helen has never taken any trouble about +her, and now she is annoyed by something that +happened at Jessica's wedding, so you must just +step into the breach, my dear." +</p> + +<p> +"I know what happened at the wedding. She +came late and got put into a back seat." +</p> + +<p> +Lavinia's laugh rang clearly into the telephone, +but Mrs. Rodney frowned anxiously as +she answered: "Well, whatever it was I don't +want it to crop up to-night, and if you'll just sit +beside her after dinner and see that she doesn't +feel neglected I'm sure everything will be quite +all right." +</p> + +<p> +"Very well, Mother, I'll try, but I don't think +it will be very easy." +</p> + +<p> +"My dear child, how absurd you are. Everything +will be perfectly easy and smooth. It +ought to be a very pleasant little party. Tell me, +what frock are you wearing?" +</p> + +<p> +"I haven't really thought. My new black I expect." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh not black, dear. Don't you think yourself +black is rather a pity?" +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +"What did you say, dear?" asked Mrs. Rodney. +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't say anything, Mother." Lavinia's +voice sounded annoyed. +</p> + +<p> +"Darling, surely you don't mind my just +suggesting one of your pretty pale frocks rather +than a black one?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't quite know what you mean by black +being 'rather a pity'." +</p> + +<p> +"It's only that I want you to look your best, +you silly child, and a pale colour is so much +younger and more gay. Besides, I'll be wearing +black. Now don't forget Aunt Dora, will you, +and remember that dinner is at quarter to eight. +Your Grannie doesn't like it later. Good-bye till +this evening." +</p> + +<p> +She rang off, and sat at her desk for a moment, +looking faintly disturbed, before putting on a +call to Jessica. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, who's there?" asked a brusque voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Can I speak to Mrs. Hugh please? Mrs. Rodney +speaking." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know where Mrs. Greene is, but I'll +look for her if you'll wait a minute. Who did +you say it was?" +</p> + +<p> +"It's Mrs. Rodney Greene to speak to Mrs. Hugh +if you please." +</p> + +<p> +Edith spoke icily with an accent of rebuke, but +the voice replied quite undaunted. +</p> + +<p> +"Well hold on then, I'll look for her." +</p> + +<p> +There was a long wait. Edith sat holding the +receiver jotting down items on her shopping +list, until ultimately she heard Jessica's voice. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, is that you, Mrs. Greene?" +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Jessica. I hope everything is +all right with you? I just wanted a word with +you about to-night. You're wearing your +wedding frock of course?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, do you want me to? I meant to wear my +yellow georgette. I thought the wedding frock +would be too dressed up just for a family +party." +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly think so, Jessica. After all the +dinner is for you, and I think it would be a nice +little courtesy to wear your gold tissue." +</p> + +<p> +"Is the party really for me? How awful!" +</p> + +<p> +This time it was Mrs. Rodney who maintained +a silence of sheer annoyance. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't mean 'awful' of course, I only mean +rather frightening." +</p> + +<p> +Jessica's voice was anxious as if she were +conscious of having offended, but Mrs. Rodney +replied briskly and coldly: +</p> + +<p> +"There's no need to be frightened. It's very +foolish of you. We only want to welcome you +into the family." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you very much; of course I'll wear +my gold." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we'll see you this evening then and +don't be late. Grannie likes dinner to be very +punctual. By the way, Jessica, you really must +train your maid to answer the telephone properly." +</p> + +<p> +A faint gasp fluttered along the wire. "Oh +must I? I don't know how to." +</p> + +<p> +"It's perfectly easy. You've only got to tell +her exactly what to say when she takes the +receiver off, and incidentally you might remind +her to call you Mrs. Hugh, there are too many +of us all to be Mrs. Greenes." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll try, but it's terribly difficult. She is so +much older and more severe than I am." +</p> + +<p> +"I see I'll have to take you in hand a little +my dear, but never mind now. Good-bye till +to-night." +</p> + +<p> +The faintly perturbed frown was still on +Mrs. Rodney's face as she rang up Helen, and it +deepened when a polite voice answered her +request to speak to Mrs. Geoffrey. "I'm sorry, +Madam, but Mrs. Geoffrey is engaged in her +studio, and gave orders that she wasn't to be +disturbed before eleven." +</p> + +<p> +"But it's Mrs. Rodney Greene speaking." +</p> + +<p> +"Could you ring up again in about half an +hour, Madam, or shall I ask Mrs. Geoffrey to +ring you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, I'll leave it now." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you Madam." The polite voice died +away, and Mrs. Rodney petulantly pushed the +telephone aside as her husband came into the +room. +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing wrong, Edith, I hope?" he asked, +noticing her look of irritation. +</p> + +<p> +"No, nothing, thank you, dear. Only sometimes +I get a little cross with all the children's +airs and graces." +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't let them worry you. You've got +enough to do without bothering over them. The +car's here and I'm just starting to fetch Mother. +We ought to be back in good time for lunch, +and by the way dear, do you think we ought to +send the car for Dora to-night?" +</p> + +<p> +Edith raised her eyebrows. +</p> + +<p> +"I've arranged to do that of course," she said +in a slightly pained voice, "I'm just going to +ring up Dora and let her know." +</p> + +<p> +"Splendid; that's quite all right. Well I must +be off now. Good-bye." +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, Rodney. Be sure the warm rug is +in the car for your Mother." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rodney sat staring out of the window +until the sound of the front door being shut +disturbed her thoughts. Then she smoothed her +hair, sat very upright in her chair, pulled the +telephone once again towards her, and rang up +Mrs. Edwin. +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, who are you?" she heard her sister-in-law +ask. +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, Dora. It's Edith speaking. +How are you?" +</p> + +<p> +Her voice was unusually cordial, as if she +hoped to establish a cheerful atmosphere even +through the awkward medium of the telephone +where her deliberately bright smile +was lost. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not feeling very well thank you, Edith. +This week is always a particularly trying one for +me you know, and the strain seems to be telling +on me more than usual this year." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you say?" +</p> + +<p> +"I say the strain is telling on me more +than usual this year. What a bad connection +this is." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, isn't it? I'm so sorry, but what did +you say you were telling me?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know what you mean, Edith. Hullo, +are you there? This is a disgraceful connection. I +only said I was feeling the strain of this week +very badly." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! yes of course, I do sympathise with you, +Dora. It's a sad time for you I know. I just +wanted a word with you about to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Really, Edith, I don't know that I shall be +able to face a party to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you say?" +</p> + +<p> +"I said that I didn't really know whether I +would be able to come to-night or not." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh that's better now. I can hear you quite +clearly. Well I do hope you'll manage to-night. +We'll all be so disappointed if you can't. The +children are looking forward to seeing you, and +I know Grannie and Aunt Sarah are counting +on it too." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't flatter myself that the children, as +you call them, care one way or the other about +me." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh! that's rubbish, Dora. We all hope you +will come. Now, may I send the car for +you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't trouble, thank you very much. It is +not the lack of a car that's preventing me +coming." +</p> + +<p> +"No of course not, I quite understand. But I +really rang up just to offer you the car. Dinner is +a little early you see because of the old ladies, +and I thought it might be a convenience." +</p> + +<p> +"Very kind of you I'm sure. But as it happens +I've made my own arrangements. My friend +Mrs. Blythe asked me several days ago to use +her car both for going and coming." +</p> + +<p> +"That's very nice then. I'm so glad you feel +able to come after all." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know that I do really. I haven't +felt quite myself since Jessica's wedding. The +church was very draughty near the door and I +got badly chilled." +</p> + +<p> +"That's too bad. However, we will expect +you to-night; it will be very nice to see you. +Good-bye till then." +</p> + +<p> +"What, Edith?" +</p> + +<p> +"I said we would expect you to-night at +quarter to eight. Good-bye for the present." +</p> + +<p> +"But Edith, hullo Edith, are you still there? +I was just explaining that I don't feel well +enough to come." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so sorry, the telephone is really intolerable +to-day, I didn't catch what you said." +</p> + +<p> +"I said I wasn't feeling quite myself." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, we'll all be most disappointed, Dora, +but of course if you don't feel well enough, +you're much wiser to stay at home." +</p> + +<p> +"But I'd be sorry to disappoint you all. As I +said before, it's a pity you chose this date for +your party, but still, I must make the effort +and come, only don't expect me to be very +bright." +</p> + +<p> +"How nice of you; that really is delightful." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rodney tried to infuse a note of warmth +into her voice, but as she heard Mrs. Edwin's +voice beginning plaintively "Of course I must +say—-" she added loudly and hurriedly, +</p> + +<p> +"Well, au revoir, and I'm sure you'll be none +the worse of it," and rang off. +</p> + +<p> +Exasperated and depressed she got up and +walked up and down the room in a state of +uncharacteristic agitation. She was beset by minor +difficulties: Lavinia's annoyance at the merest +hint of what to wear; Jessica unable to manage +her servant, in need of help and guidance, but +quite probably ready to resent both; Dora in her +most tiresome and difficult mood. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rodney sighed impatiently and rang +the bell. When the butler appeared she sat +down again at her desk, took up a list and ran +through it. +</p> + +<p> +"About dinner to-night, there are one or two +things to arrange. First of all, Rayner, I want +you to be on the upper landing to show everyone +into the drawing-room. Evans must open the +front door, but I specially want you to announce +everyone in full. Mrs. Greene is staying in the +house but I want her announced too, and be +careful just to call her Mrs. Greene, and to give +the others their full names. You know Mrs. Hugh +Greene of course, but young Mr. Hugh +and his wife must be announced as Mr. and +Mrs. Hugh Beckett Greene." +</p> + +<p> +"I quite understand, Madam. There will be +Mrs. Greene, Mrs. Hugh Greene, Mrs. Edwin +Greene, Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Greene and +Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Beckett Greene." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, that's right. I'll order flowers for the +table when I'm out this morning, and I want +the Lowestoft service and the Wedgwood fruit +plates of course. It's a family dinner, but in a +way it's a celebration." +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at Rayner, confident of his interest +in everything pertaining to the family. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll see to everything myself, Madam," he +assured her. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Greene has told you what champagne +to bring up?" she asked. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes Madam, but young Mrs. Hugh never +takes champagne. Should I open a bottle of +Chablis for her?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, certainly not. She must take a little +to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, Madam. Cook desired me to ask +you if you would care for the ice pudding to be +shaped like a bell and garnished with orange +blossom. She can make a nice sugar wreath to +decorate the dish." +</p> + +<p> +"What a good idea. Yes, tell cook that will +be very nice, and that it is very good of +her to have thought out a little compliment +for Miss Jessica. I think that's all, thank +you." +</p> + +<p> +An expression of satisfaction had chased away +her frown. She was pleased that the servants at +least should throw themselves so keenly into a +family affair, even though the fact of their +doing so sharpened her annoyance at her +children's aloof unresponsiveness. +</p> + +<p> +The telephone rang shrilly. Probably Dora, +she thought, and took off the receiver +reluctantly, but it was Helen's voice that said: +</p> + +<p> +"Hullo, Mrs. Greene, is that you? Margaret +told me you'd rung up while I was working. I'm +sorry she didn't interrupt me; she ought to have +known I'd speak to you to-day." +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rodney was mollified by the flattering +implication in Helen's words but she hoped for +a further confirmation when she answered +provocatively: +</p> + +<p> +"Good morning, my dear. It was a little +annoying of course, but still you mustn't make +an exception of me." +</p> + +<p> +Helen's reply was casual but final. +</p> + +<p> +"I couldn't ordinarily. But to-day is rather +special, isn't it." +</p> + +<p> +Piqued as she was at not being given preferential +treatment, Mrs. Rodney was so delighted +with Helen for realising the importance of the +occasion, that she decided to ignore the other +point in the meantime. It could always be +brought up later. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm so glad you think so, dear," she said +warmly. "It certainly is a special occasion from +my point of view. Tell me, what are you +thinking of wearing?" +</p> + +<p> +"My silver and white brocade. It's much the +grandest frock I've got, so what could be more +suitable?" +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Rodney wondered momentarily if there +was a faint note of mockery in Helen's +tones, but decided that it must be due to +the telephone. +</p> + +<p> +"That's delightful. You always look so nice +in it. And Helen dear, don't be late at all, will +you. It worries Grannie if dinner is a minute +later than quarter to eight." +</p> + +<p> +"No, we won't be late I promise. I'll let +Geoffrey drive the car." +</p> + +<p> +"Do, Helen, I'm sure it's wiser." +</p> + +<p> +"Was there anything else you wanted, Mrs. Greene?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, nothing. I only thought I'd remind you +about the hour." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, good-bye Mrs. Greene, and good luck +with your stage managing. I hope the +production will be good." +</p> + +<p> +"Helen, hullo Helen, don't go yet. Tell me +what you mean, dear?" +</p> + +<p> +Again a faint doubt of Helen's good faith +crossed Mrs. Rodney's mind, but she was +reassured by Helen's calm explanation. +</p> + +<p> +"I mean about to-night. You'll have to stage +manage the whole affair, and I'm sure it will go +beautifully. I propose to enjoy myself +enormously as one of the humbler members of the +caste." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh I see," Mrs. Rodney resolutely stilled +her doubts, and went on playfully: "Of course a +good hostess always has to stage manage a little, +and even more in a family party. Good-bye, +dear child, till this evening, and don't be +late." +</p> + +<p> +Going upstairs to put on her hat Edith +Greene's mind was busy over the choice of +flowers for the table. White flowers seemed to +her the most ceremonial but she rejected +chrysanthemums as being too clumsy and lilies of the +valley as being reminiscent of the sick room. I +must strike the right note with my flowers, she +thought. I want the whole thing to be sufficiently +important. Lilies, of course, Madonna lilies, so +suitable both for old Mrs. Greene and Jessica; +they would be exactly right. +</p> + +<p> +Her face cleared and she went briskly out, +confident that the scene was set for the +evening's play. +</p> + +<p><br><br></p> + +<p class="t3"> +II +</p> + +<p> +It was only twenty-five to eight when Rayner +opened the door to Lavinia. +</p> + +<p> +"You are early, Madam," he said as he took +her cloak, "I don't think anyone is down yet." +</p> + +<p> +"I know I am; I wondered if there was a +chance of seeing Grannie before the others +arrived. Do you suppose she will be down +soon?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know at all, but I can send Mary up +to tell her you are here." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes do, Rayner; go and tell her now, I'll go +up to the drawing-room." +</p> + +<p> +On the upper landing Lavinia stopped to look +at her reflection, tiny and faintly distorted, in a +small convex mirror that had delighted her as a +child. +</p> + +<p> +She was wearing for the first time, in deference +to her Mother's wishes, a yellow velvet frock, +quite plain, very full skirted, and, in the fashion +of the moment, short in front but dipping almost +to the ground behind. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she took her wide skirt in either +hand, and curtsied very low to her own image. +The mirror was flooded with the yellow of her +frock, but as she rose and straightened herself +the small grotesque reflection was re-established. +</p> + +<p> +The drawing-room was in darkness except for +the leaping firelight but she switched on the +small lamp beside the fire, and sat down thinking +dreamily how pretty it would be if a group of +ladies in long old-fashioned frocks were to +assemble there that night. +</p> + +<p> +We would have to kiss Grannie's hand and +Mother's too I suppose, and Helen and Jessica +and I would curtsey very low to each other and +say "Sister," and "Your servant, Sister." And +there would be so much swaying and rustling of +silks that it would seem like sixty Mrs. Greenes +instead of six. +</p> + +<p> +She sighed as she looked forward to the evening +ahead. +</p> + +<p> +Really it will be quite ordinary, she decided; a +little flutter of excitement as each one comes in +and then perfectly ordinary conversation. Aunt +Sarah rather prim, and Grannie very crisp, and +Aunt Dora pretty doleful, and Mother managing +everything, and keeping us all in our proper +places. +</p> + +<p> +She stood up, and leaning against the mantel-piece +looked round the shadowy room. Everything +was orderly: the soft puce curtains hung +in beautifully symmetrical folds, a bowl of giant +chrysanthemums stood on a table, each petal +tightly curled, the firelight shone on a vivid +Chinese vase standing on a little lacquer cabinet +between the windows. +</p> + +<p> +An air of stillness and expectation hung over +the room. +</p> + +<p> +It's a lovely setting, Lavinia decided +suddenly. After all there may be an atmosphere +about this evening. Grannie is very old and +Jessica is very young, and nearly all the happiness +and unhappiness that lies in the years between +them is bound up with the Greene family. +Perhaps that will make Grannie younger and +Jessica older, so that they will become alike and +indistinguishable. +</p> + +<p> +She shivered a little. I'm glad I'm out of it, +she thought. This family feeling frightens me. +I should hate to feel myself becoming akin to +Aunt Dora. +</p> + +<p> +Rayner came into the room, switching on the +lights so that all the details of colour and form +suddenly sprang into being. +</p> + +<p> +"Mrs. Greene will be down in a moment," he +said. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you," said Lavinia absently. "Rayner, +it's going to be very odd to-night." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope not, Madam, I'm sure." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, it's bound to be odd; I shall feel like +the only human in a company of poor ghosts." +</p> + +<p><br></p> + +<p> +<i>Arosa, December 1927.—Geneva, May 1928.</i> +</p> + +<p><br><br><br><br></p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75836 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + + diff --git a/75836-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/75836-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ea8221 --- /dev/null +++ b/75836-h/images/img-cover.jpg |
