CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
I have told all our experiences in papering the room together, becausethey seemed to come better that way; but, of course, lots of otherthings have been happening at the same time. One evening we went to aconcert, and another time some friends came in after dinner, and weplayed games and had music. I sang a great deal, and everyone seemed tolike listening, and my dress was the prettiest in the room, and all themen wanted to talk to me, and it was most agreeable.
On Sunday we went to an ugly town church, but the vicar had a fine, goodface, and I liked his sermon. He seemed to believe in you, and expectyou to do great things, and that is always inspiring. Some clergymenkeep telling you how bad you are, and personally that puts my back up,and I begin to think I am not half so black as I am painted; but whenthis dear man took for granted that you were unselfish and diligent, anddeeply in earnest about good things, I felt first ashamed, and theneager to try again, and fight the sins that do so terribly easily besetme. I sang the last hymn in a sort of fervour, and came out into thecool night air, positively longing for a battle in which I could win myspurs, and oh dear, dear, in ten minutes' time, before we were half-wayhome, I was flirting with Wallace, and talking of frivolous worldlysubjects, as if I had never had a serious thought in my life!
It's so terribly hard to remember, and keep on remembering when one isyoung, but God must surely understand. I don't think He will be angry.He knows that deep, deep down I want most of all to be good!
Wallace is nice and kind and clever, and I like him to like me, but Icould never by any possibility like him--seriously, I mean! I can'ttell why; it's just one of the mysterious things that comes by instinctwhen you grow up to be a woman. There is a great gulf thousands ofmiles wide between the man you just like and the man you could love; butsometimes the man you could love doesn't want you, and it is wrong evento think of him, and then it's a temptation to be extra nice to theother one, because his devotion soothes your wounded feelings.
I suppose Miss Bruce would call it love of admiration, and wish me tosnub the poor fellow, and keep him at arm's length, but I don't see whyI should. It would be conceited to take for granted that he wasseriously in love, and I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy myself when Iget a chance. It's only fun, of course, but I do enjoy playing offlittle experiments upon Wallace, to test my power over him, and then towatch the result! For example, at lunch-time I express a casual wishfor a certain thing, and before four o'clock it is in my possession; orI show an interest in an entertainment, and tickets appear as if bymagic. It is quite exciting. I feel as if I were playing a thrillingnew game.
The room is almost furnished, and it looks sweet. One can hardlybelieve it is the same dreary little den that I saw on that firstevening. We stole, (by kind permission), one or two chairs, a writing-table, and a dear little Indian cabinet from the overcrowded drawing-room, and with some help from Midas manufactured the most scrumptiouscosy-corner out of old packing-cases and cushions covered with rose-coloured brocade. We put a deep frill of the same material, mounted ona thin brass rail, on the wall above the mantelpiece, and arrangedLorna's best ornaments and nick-nacks against this becoming background.It did not seem quite appropriate to the garden idea to hang pictures onthe walls, which is just as well, as she hasn't got any, but I boughther a tall green pedestal and flower-pot and a big branching palm as mycontribution to the room, and as she says, "It gives the final touch ofluxury to the whole." I could wish for a new fender and fire-irons, anda few decent rugs, but you can't have everything in this wicked world,and really, at night when the lamp-light sends a rosy glow through thenewly-covered shade, (only muslin, but it looks like silk!) you couldnot wish to see a prettier room.
Lorna is awfully sweet about it. She said to me, "It was your idea,Una. I shall always feel that it was your gift, and every pleasant hourI spend here will be another link in the chain which binds us together.This visit of yours will be memorable, in more ways than one!" and shelooked at me in a meaning fashion which I hated. How more ways thanone, pray? I hope to goodness she is not getting any foolish notions inher head. She might know me better by this time.
I don't know why it is, but I am always depressed after a letter fromhome. Mother reports that there is no improvement in Vere's health, andthat her spirits are variable--sometimes low, sometimes quite bright andhopeful. Mr Dudley is very good in coming to see her, and his visitsalways cheer her up. He asked after me last time, hoped that I wasenjoying myself and would not hurry back. I am not wanted thereapparently, and here they all love having me, and implore me to stay on.I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but I've decided that I will since thatlast letter arrived. I told Mrs Forbes this morning that I would staya fortnight longer, and she kissed me and looked quite unreasonablyrelieved. I can't see how it matters much to her!
Such a curious thing happened that night, when Wallace and I weretalking about books, and discussing the heroine in a novel which he hadgiven me to read.
"Did she remind you of anyone?" he asked, and when I said "No," "Why,she is you to the life! Appearance, manner, character--everything. Itmight have been meant for a portrait," he declared. "I was reading itover last night, and the likeness is extraordinary."
I privately determined to read the book over again on the firstopportunity to discover what I seemed like to other people. The heroineis supposed to be very pretty and charming, but personally I had thoughther rather silly, so I did not know whether to feel complimented or not.I determined to introduce the subject to Lorna, and see if she couldthrow any light upon it, and she did! More light than I appreciated!
"Oh, I liked Nan very well," she said, "but not nearly so much asWallace did. He simply raved about her and declared that if he ever meta girl like that in real life he should fall desperately in love withher on the spot. She is his ideal of everything that a girl should be."
"Oh!" I said blankly. For a moment I felt inclined to tell Lornaeverything, but something stopped me, and I am thankful that it did. Itwould be so horrid to feel she was watching all the time. For once inmy life I was glad when she went away, and I was left alone to think.
"Desperately in love!" Can Wallace really be that, and with me? Itmakes me go hot and cold just to think of it, and my heart thumps withagitation. I don't feel happy exactly, but very excited and important.I have such a lonely feeling sometimes, and I do so long for someone tolove me best of all. At home, though they are all kind enough, I amalways second fiddle, if not third, and it is nice to be appreciated! Icould never care for Wallace in that way, but I like him to like me. Itmakes things interesting, and I was feeling very flat and dejected, andin need of something to cheer me up. Of course, I don't want to doanything wrong, but Wallace is so young, only twenty-four, and has nomoney, so he couldn't think of being married or anything silly likethat; besides, I've heard it is good for boys to have a fancy for a nicegirl--it keeps them steady.
In any case, I have promised to stay on for another fortnight, and Icouldn't alter my mind and go away now without making a fuss, and if Istay I can't be disagreeable, so I must just behave as if Lorna hadnever repeated that stupid remark. I dare say, if the truth were known,Wallace has fancied himself in love with half-a-dozen girls before now,and it would be ridiculous of me to imagine anything serious. Anyway, Idon't care. I have thought of nothing but other people for months back,and they don't seem to miss me a bit, but only hope I won't hurry back.I'm tired of it. Now I am going to enjoy myself, and I don't care whathappens!