CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
It is ten days since I wrote anything in this diary, and to-night, whenI opened it in my misery, hoping to find some comfort in writing down mythoughts, the first thing that met my eyes were those dreadful words, "Iam going to enjoy myself, and I don't care what happens." Enjoy myself,indeed! I have never been so miserable in my life. I never knew beforewhat misery meant, even on that awful night of the fire, when we didn'tknow whether Vere would live or die. Troubles with which one hasnothing to do, which come, as it were, straight from God, can never makeone feel like this. There is no remorse in them, and no guilt, and noburning, intolerable shame.
What would Miss Bruce think of her pupil now? What would father think?What would Rachel--"the best woman in the world"--think of me to-night?
I am going to make myself write it all down, and then, if I ever try togloss it over to myself or others in the future, this written accountwill be here to give me the lie. Here it is, then, bold and plain--
"I have broken a man's heart for the sake of a little fun and excitementfor myself, and as a sop to my wounded vanity!"
It makes me shiver to read the words, for I did not realise the fullmeanness of what I was doing until the end came, and I woke with a shockto see myself as I really am. All these last ten days I have beenacting a part to myself as well as to others, pretending to beunconscious of danger, but I knew--oh, I knew perfectly well! I think agirl must always know when a man loves her. I knew it by the tone ofWallace's voice, by the light in his eyes, by the change which came overhis looks and manner the moment I appeared. It was like a game, ahorrible new game which fascinated me against my will, and I could notbear to end it. Every night when I said my prayers I determined to turnover a new leaf next day, but when the next day came I put on myprettiest clothes and did my hair the way he liked it best, and sang hisfavourite songs, and was all smiles and sweetness. Oh, what a PhariseeI am! In this very book I have denounced Vere for her flirtations andgreed of admiration, and then I have succumbed to the very firsttemptation, without so much as a struggle. I shall never, never be ableto hold up my head again. I feel too contemptible to live.
Last night things came to a crisis. Wallace and Lorna and I went to aparty given by some intimate family friends. Wallace had asked me inthe morning what colour I was going to wear, and just before dinner hecame into the drawing-room and presented me with a spray of the mostlovely pink roses. I think he expected to find me alone, but the wholefamily was assembled, and it was most embarrassing to see how seriouslythey took it. At home we have loads of flowers in the conservatories,but sometimes one of Vere's admirers sends her a lot of early violets,or lilies of the valley, great huge boxes which must cost a smallfortune, but no one thinks anything of it, or pays any attention beyonda casual remark. Here, however, it was different.
"Roses!" ejaculated Lorna, in a tone of awe-stricken astonishment.
Midas whistled softly, and Mrs Forbes looked first at Wallace and thenat me--in a wistful, anxious kind of way, which made me feel inclined torun home on the spot. I determined to make some excuse and departsuddenly some day soon, while Wallace was out on his rounds, but it wastoo late. I was not allowed to escape so easily as that.
During the evening Wallace took me into the conservatory to see theflowers, and it was not my fault that everyone went out and left usalone. I tried to be cold and chilling, but that only made him anxiousto discover what was wrong.
"It is my fault! I know quite well it is my fault," he cried, bendingover me, his face so drawn and puckered with anxiety that he lookedquite old. "I am a stupid, blundering fellow, and you have been anangel to be so sweet and forbearing. I am not fit to come near you, butI would rather cut off my right hand than hurt you in any way. You knowthat, don't you, Una?"
He had never called me Una before, and he looked so different from thecalm, complacent youth I had known a few weeks before--so much older andmore formidable, that it was difficult to believe it could be the sameperson. I was frightened, but tried hard to appear cool and self-possessed.
"I am not vexed at all. On the contrary, I am enjoying myself verymuch. The flowers are lovely. I always--"
It was no use. He seized my hand, and cried pleadingly--
"Don't put me off, Una; don't trifle with me. It's too serious forthat. You are cold to me to-night, and it has come to this, that Icannot live when you are not kind. What has changed you since thisafternoon? Were you vexed with me for bringing you those roses?"
"Not in the least, so far as I am concerned; but your people seemedastonished. It made me feel a little awkward."
He looked at once relieved and puzzled. "But they know!" he cried."They know quite well. They would not be astonished at my giving youanything. Has Lorna never told you that she knows?"
"I really fail to understand what there is to know," I said, sitting upvery straight and stiff, looking as haughty and unapproachable as Ipossibly could. It was coming very close. I knew it, though I neverhad the experience before, and I would have given anything in the worldto escape. Oh, how can girls like to have proposals from men whom theydon't mean to accept? How can they bring themselves to boast of them asif they were a triumph and a pride? I never felt so humiliated in mylife as I did when I sat there and listened to Wallace's wild words.
"What is there to know? Only that I love you with all my heart andstrength--that I have loved you ever since the moment I first saw yoursweet face. You did not seem like a stranger, for I had been waitingfor you all my life. Oh, Una, these few weeks have been like a dream ofhappiness. I never knew what it was to live before. You are so--"
I haven't the heart to repeat all the praises the poor fellow lavishedupon me while I sat listening in an agony of shame, feeling more andmore miserable every moment, as I realised that, in spite of hisagitation, he was by no means despondent as to the result of his wooing.He seemed more anxious to assure me of his devotion than to question meabout mine, as if he imagined that my coldness was caused by pique orjealousy. I drew away my hands, and tried to stop him by vague murmursof dissent, but it was no use, he only became more eager and determined.
"We all love you, Una. My mother thinks you the most charming girl shehas ever met. She was speaking of you to me only last night; she feelsnaturally a little sad, poor mother! to know that she is no longer thefirst consideration to her boy, but she quite understands. And thepater, too--he is in love with you himself. Who could help it,darling?"
"Oh, stop, stop! I can't bear it. You must not talk like that," Icried desperately. "You are taking everything for granted, and it isimpossible, quite impossible. I don't want to marry anyone. I'm tooyoung. I must wait for years before I can even think of such a thing."
He looked actually relieved, instead of disappointed, as my wordsevidently removed one big difficulty from his path.
"I couldn't ask you to marry me yet, dearest. I have my way to make,and could not provide a home that would be worthy of you for some yearsto come; but as you say, we are both young, and can afford to wait; andoh, Una, I could work like ten men with such a prospect to inspire me.I will get on for your sake; it is in me, I know it is--I shallsucceed!"
"I hope you may, I'm sure," I said, nearly crying with agitation andmisery. "But you must not think of me. I have nothing to do with it.I like you very much, but I couldn't marry you now or ever--I neverthought of such a thing--it's quite impossible. You must, please,please, never speak of it again!"
Even then he wouldn't understand, but preferred to think that I was shy,nervous, coy--anything rather than simply and absolutely truthful. Hebegan again in a humble, pleading voice, which tore my heart.
"I know it seems presumption to ask so much. I am an insignificantnobody, and you might marry anyone you liked. In every sense of theword but one I am a wretched match for you, but love counts forsomething, and you will never find anyone to love you more. I'd give myvery life to serve you, and I will give it,
if you will trust yourselfto me! My father was no older than I am when he became engaged, and hetold me only the other day that he looked back on that hour as thebeginning of his success. He would be glad to see me engaged also."
"Have you spoken about me to him, then, as well as to your mother?" Idemanded testily. I felt so guilty about my own conduct that it was arelief to be able to find fault with someone else, and I worked myselfup into quite a show of indignation. "You must have made very sure ofmy answer to be ready to discuss me in such a general fashion. It wouldhave been more courteous to wait until you had my permission. You haveplaced us both in a most awkward position, for, as I said before, Icould never marry you. It is quite impossible. I like you very much,but not in that way. Let us be friends, and forget everything else. Wewere so happy as we were--it is such a pity to spoil it all like this."
"Spoil it!" he repeated blankly. He had grown quite white while I wasspeaking, and his eyes had a dazed, startled expression. "Does it spoilthings for you, Una, to know that I love you? But you have known thatfor a long time--everyone in the house found it out, and you could nothave helped seeing it, too. You say I have made too sure of you.Forgive me, darling, but if I have done so it is only because I know youare too sweet and good to encourage a man when there was no hope. I ammore sorry than I can say if I have annoyed you by speaking to myparents, but the mater naturally spoke to me when she saw how thingswere going, and I had to consult my father about ways and means. Una,darling, you don't mean it. You can't mean to break my heart afterleading me on all these weeks?"
"I never led you on!" I cried vainly. "I was only nice to you as Iwould have been to anyone else. I knew you liked me; but everyone whois kind and attentive does not want to marry one as a matter of course.It would be horrid to expect it. Lorna is my friend, and you are herbrother, so of course--"
He looked me full in the face and said slowly--
"It will be difficult to believe--but if you will tell me just oncequite simply and plainly, I will take your word, Una. Don't protest,please--tell me truthfully, once for all: did you, or did you not, knowI loved you with all my heart?"
I wanted to say "No." In a sense I could have said it truthfullyenough, for I had no definite knowledge, but I remembered what Lorna hadtold me about the heroine in the novel; I remembered Mrs Forbes'swistful manner, and oh, a dozen little incidents too small to be writtendown, when Wallace's own manner had told the truth only too plainly. Hewas staring at me, poor boy, with his wan, miserable eyes, and I couldnot tell a lie. I began to cry in a feeble, helpless kind of way, andfaltered out, "I--I thought you did, but I couldn't be sure. You know Icouldn't be sure, and it was only for a little while! I am going homeso soon that I didn't think it could matter."
He leant forward, leaning his head on his hands.
"Shall I tell you how much it matters?" he asked huskily. "It mattersjust this, that you have spoilt my life! There was not a happier, morecontented fellow living than I was--before you came. I loved my work,and loved my home. I intended to succeed in my profession, and thefuture was full of interest. I would not have changed places with anyman on earth. Now!" he held out his right hand and snapped his fingersexpressively, "it is over; the zest is out of it all if you are notthere. If I had met you anywhere else it might have been easier, butyou have come right into the middle of my life, and if I would I shallnot be able to forget you. Every morning when I come down to breakfastI shall look across the table and imagine you sitting facing me; I shallsee you wherever I go--like a ghost--in every room in the house, ineverything I do. That is the price I have to pay for your amusement.You have made a fool of me, you whom I thought the type of everythingthat was true and womanly. You knew that I loved you, but it didn'tmatter to you what I suffered. You were going home soon--you would notsee it. It didn't matter!"
"No, no, no!" I cried in agony. "It isn't true. I am bad enough, butnot a heartless monster. I will tell you the whole truth. I wasmiserable myself when I came here; ill and tired out, and sore because--because they didn't care for me at home as much as I wanted. I alwayswant people to like me. I did at school--Lorna will tell you that Idid; and when you were nice to me it cheered me up, and made me happyagain. I never dreamt that it was serious until a little time ago--lastweek--and even then I did not think you could possibly want to marryme--you were too young--you had no home--"
"No, that is true. I am no match for Miss Sackville. I was a fool toforget it. Thank you for reminding me," he interrupted bitterly.
Poor boy--oh, poor boy, he looked so miserable--it made me ache to seehis white, changed face. He looked so handsome, too; so much more of aman than he had ever done before. I looked at him and wondered why itwas that I could not care for him as he wished. Had I been too hasty indeciding that it was impossible? He wanted me, and no one else did; andit would be nice to be engaged and have someone to love me best of all.Perhaps I should grow to love him too; I always do like people who likeme; and Lorna would be so pleased. She would be my real sister, andcould come and stay with me in my own home. I was so upset andmiserable, so stung by Wallace's taunt about his poverty, that I wasjust in the mind to be reckless. His hand lay limply by his side, andin a sudden gush of tenderness and pity I slid my arm beneath it andsaid softly, "Don't be cross with me! I never thought for one moment ifyou were poor or rich. That doesn't matter a bit. If I have made youmiserable, I am miserable too. If you want me to be engaged to you--Iwill, and I'll try to like you. Please, please do not look like that!If I promise it will be all right, and you will forgive me for being sothoughtless, won't you, Wallace?"
He turned his head and stared at me steadily. The anger died out of hisface, but he looked dreadfully sad.
"Poor Una," he said, "how little you understand! Do you think I am sucha cad as to accept such an offer as that? I love you and want you to behappy, not miserable as you would certainly be if you were engaged to aman you had to `try to like.' Thank you for the offer all the same. Itwill comfort me a little to remember that at any rate you felt kindlytowards me. It is no use saying any more. My dream is over, and Ishall have to bear the awakening as well as I can. A fellow cannotexpect to have everything his own way. I don't want to whine. Shall wego back to the house?"
"In a minute--one minute--only tell me first that you forgive me, and ifthere is nothing at all that I can do to help you, and show howwretchedly, wretchedly sorry I am!"
"Forgive you?" he repeated sadly. "I love you, Una. I can forgive you,I expect, a good deal more easily than you will forgive yourself. Yes,there is something you can do--if you ever discover that another poorfellow is in love with you--and you are the sort of girl whom men willlove--remember me and spare him this experience. Don't go on being`nice' to him. That kind of niceness is the worst form of cruelty."
I hung my head and could not answer. To think that "that boy," as I hadcontemptuously called him, should have behaved in such a manly, generousfashion! I felt utterly ashamed and despicable. It was he who is athousand times too good for me!