English
ButthiswasnottobetheonlyeventfulconversationwhichMrs.Westmacottheldthatday,norwastheAdmiraltheonlypersonintheWildernesswhowasdestinedtofindhisopinionsconsiderablychanged.
Twoneighboringfamilies,theWinslowsfromAnerley,andtheCumberbatchesfromGipsyHill,hadbeeninvitedtotennisbyMrs.Westmacott,andthelawnwasgayintheeveningwiththeblazersoftheyoungmenandthebrightdressesofthegirls.
Totheolderpeople,sittingroundintheirwicker-workgardenchairs,thedarting,stooping,springingwhitefigures,thesweepofskirts,andtwinkleofcanvasshoes,theclickoftheracketsandsharpwhizoftheballs,withthecontinual“fifteenlove—fifteenall!”
ofthemarker,madeupamerryandexhilaratingscene.
Toseetheirsonsanddaughterssoflushedandhealthyandhappy,gavethemalsoareflectedglow,anditwashardtosaywhohadmostpleasurefromthegame,thosewhoplayedorthosewhowatched.
Mrs.WestmacotthadjustfinishedasetwhenshecaughtaglimpseofClaraWalkersittingaloneatthefartherendoftheground.
Sherandownthecourt,clearedthenettotheamazementofthevisitors,andseatedherselfbesideher.
Clara’sreservedandrefinednatureshranksomewhatfromtheboisterousfranknessandstrangemannersofthewidow,andyetherfeminineinstincttoldherthatbeneathallherpeculiaritiestherelaymuchthatwasgoodandnoble.
Shesmiledupather,therefore,andnoddedagreeting.
“Whyaren’tyouplaying,then?Don’t,forgoodness’sake,begintobelanguidandyoungladyish!Whenyougiveupactivesportsyougiveupyouth.”
“Ihaveplayedaset,Mrs.Westmacott.”
“That’sright,mydear.”Shesatdownbesideher,andtappedheruponthearmwithhertennisracket.
“Ilikeyou,mydear,andIamgoingtocallyouClara.
YouarenotasaggressiveasIshouldwish,Clara,butstillIlikeyouverymuch.
Self-sacrificeisallverywell,youknow,butwehavehadrathertoomuchofitonourside,andshouldliketoseealittleontheother.
WhatdoyouthinkofmynephewCharles?”
ThequestionwassosuddenandunexpectedthatClaragavequiteajumpinherchair.“I—I—IhardlyeverhavethoughtofyournephewCharles.”
“No?Oh,youmustthinkhimwellover,forIwanttospeaktoyouabouthim.”
“Tome?Butwhy?”
“Itseemedtomemostdelicate.Yousee,Clara,thematterstandsinthisway.
ItisquitepossiblethatImaysoonfindmyselfinacompletelynewsphereoflife,whichwillinvolvefreshdutiesandmakeitimpossibleformetokeepupahouseholdwhichCharlescanshare.”
Clarastared.Didthismeanthatshewasabouttomarryagain?Whatelsecoulditpointto?
“ThereforeCharlesmusthaveahouseholdofhisown.Thatisobvious.Now,Idon’tapproveofbachelorestablishments.Doyou?”
“Really,Mrs.Westmacott,Ihaveneverthoughtofthematter.”
“Oh,youlittleslypuss!Wasthereeveragirlwhoneverthoughtofthematter?Ithinkthatayoungmanofsix-and-twentyoughttobemarried.”
Clarafeltveryuncomfortable.Theawfulthoughthadcomeuponherthatthisambassadresshadcometoherasaproxywithaproposalofmarriage.Buthowcouldthatbe?
Shehadnotspokenmorethanthreeorfourtimeswithhernephew,andknewnothingmoreofhimthanhehadtoldherontheeveningbefore.Itwasimpossible,then.
Andyetwhatcouldhisauntmeanbythisdiscussionofhisprivateaffairs?
“Doyounotthinkyourself,”shepersisted,“thatayoungmanofsix-and-twentyisbettermarried?”
“Ishouldthinkthatheisoldenoughtodecideforhimself.”
“Yes,yes.Hehasdoneso.
ButCharlesisjustalittleshy,justalittleslowinexpressinghimself.
IthoughtthatIwouldpavethewayforhim.
Twowomencanarrangethesethingssomuchbetter.
Mensometimeshaveadifficultyinmakingthemselvesclear.”
“Ireallyhardlyfollowyou,Mrs.Westmacott,”criedClaraindespair.
“Hehasnoprofession.Buthehasnicetastes.HereadsBrowningeverynight.Andheismostamazinglystrong.
Whenhewasyoungerweusedtoputontheglovestogether,butIcannotpersuadehimtonow,forhesayshecannotplaylightenough.
Ishouldallowhimfivehundred,whichshouldbeenoughatfirst.”
“MydearMrs.Westmacott,”criedClara,“IassureyouthatIhavenottheleastideawhatitisthatyouaretalkingof.”
“DoyouthinkyoursisterIdawouldhavemynephewCharles?”
HersisterIda?Quitealittlethrillofreliefandofpleasureranthroughheratthethought.IdaandCharlesWestmacott.Shehadneverthoughtofit.
Andyettheyhadbeenagooddealtogether.Theyhadplayedtennis.Theyhadsharedthetandemtricycle.
Againcamethethrillofjoy,andcloseatitsheelsthecoldquestioningsofconscience.Whythisjoy?Whatwastherealsourceofit?
Wasitthatdeepdown,somewherepushedbackintheblackrecessesofthesoul,therewasthethoughtlurkingthatifCharlesprosperedinhiswooingthenHaroldDenverwouldstillbefree?
Howmean,howunmaidenly,howunsisterlythethought!
Shecrusheditdownandthrustitaside,butstillitwouldpushupitswickedlittlehead.
Shecrimsonedwithshameatherownbaseness,assheturnedoncemoretohercompanion.
“Ireallydonotknow,”shesaid.
“Sheisnotengaged?”
“NotthatIknowof.”
“Youspeakhesitatingly.”
“BecauseIamnotsure.Buthemayask.Shecannotbutbeflattered.”
“Quiteso.Itellhimthatitisthemostpracticalcomplimentwhichamancanpaytoawoman.
Heisalittleshy,butwhenhesetshimselftodoithewilldoit.
Heisverymuchinlovewithher,Iassureyou.
Theselittlelivelypeoplealwaysdoattracttheslowandheavyones,whichisnature’sdevicefortheneutralizingofbores.Buttheyareallgoingin.
IthinkifyouwillallowmethatIwilljusttaketheopportunitytotellhimthat,asfarasyouknow,thereisnopositiveobstacleintheway.”
apictureofthecountryside
“AsfarasIknow,”Clararepeated,asthewidowmovedawaytowheretheplayersweregroupedroundthenet,orsaunteringslowlytowardsthehouse.
Sherosetofollowher,butherheadwasinawhirlwithnewthoughts,andshesatdownagain.
WhichwouldbebestforIda,HaroldorCharles?
Shethoughtitoverwithasmuchsolicitudeasamotherwhoplansforheronlychild.
Haroldhadseemedtohertobeinmanywaysthenoblestandthebestyoungmanwhomshehadknown.
Ifevershewastoloveamanitwouldbesuchamanasthat.Butshemustnotthinkofherself.
Shehadreasontobelievethatboththesemenlovedhersister.Whichwouldbethebestforher?
Butperhapsthematterwasalreadydecided.
Shecouldnotforgetthescrapofconversationwhichshehadheardthenightbefore,northesecretwhichhersisterhadrefusedtoconfidetoher.
IfIdawouldnottellher,therewasbutonepersonwhocould.
SheraisedhereyesandtherewasHaroldDenverstandingbeforeher.
“Youwerelostinyourthoughts,”saidhe,smiling.“Ihopethattheywerepleasantones.”
“Oh,Iwasplanning,”saidshe,rising.“Itseemsratherawasteoftimeasarule,forthingshaveawayofworkingthemselvesoutjustasyouleastexpect.”
“Whatwereyouplanning,then?”
“Thefuture.”
“Whose?”
“Oh,myownandIda’s.”
“AndwasIincludedinyourjointfutures?
“Ihopeallourfriendswereincluded.”
“Don’tgoin,”saidhe,asshebegantomoveslowlytowardsthehouse.“Iwantedtohaveaword.Letusstrollupanddownthelawn.Perhapsyouarecold.Ifyouare,Icouldbringyououtashawl.”
“Oh,no,Iamnotcold.”
“IwasspeakingtoyoursisterIdalastnight.”
Shenoticedthattherewasaslightquiverinhisvoice,and,glancingupathisdark,clearcutface,shesawthathewasverygrave.
Shefeltthatitwassettled,thathehadcometoaskherforhersister’shand.
“Sheisacharminggirl,”saidhe,afterapause.
“Indeedsheis,”criedClarawarmly.“Andnoonewhohasnotlivedwithherandknownherintimatelycantellhowcharmingandgoodsheis.Sheislikeasunbeaminthehouse.”
“Noonewhowasnotgoodcouldbesoabsolutelyhappyassheseemstobe.
Heaven’slastgift,Ithink,isamindsopureandaspiritsohighthatitisunableeventoseewhatisimpureandevilintheworldaroundus.
Foraslongaswecanseeit,howcanwebetrulyhappy?”
“Shehasadeepersidealso.Shedoesnotturnittotheworld,anditisnotnaturalthatsheshould,forsheisveryyoung.Butshethinks,andhasaspirationsofherown.”
“YoucannotadmirehermorethanIdo.Indeed,MissWalker,Ionlyasktobebroughtintonearerrelationshipwithher,andtofeelthatthereisapermanentbondbetweenus.”
Ithadcomeatlast.Foramomentherheartwasnumbedwithinher,andthenafloodofsisterlylovecarriedallbeforeit.
Downwiththatdarkthoughtwhichwouldstilltrytoraiseitsunhallowedhead!
SheturnedtoHaroldwithsparklingeyesandwordsofpleasureuponherlips.
“Ishouldwishtobenearanddeartobothofyou,”saidhe,ashetookherhand.“IshouldwishIdatobemysister,andyoumywife.”
Shesaidnothing.Sheonlystoodlookingathimwithpartedlipsandgreat,dark,questioningeyes.
Thelawnhadvanishedaway,theslopinggardens,thebrickvillas,thedarkeningskywithhalfapalemoonbeginningtoshowoverthechimney-tops.
Allwasgone,andshewasonlyconsciousofadark,earnest,pleadingface,andofavoice,faraway,disconnectedfromherself,thevoiceofamantellingawomanhowhelovedher.
Hewasunhappy,saidthevoice,hislifewasavoid;therewasbutonethingthatcouldsavehim;hehadcometothepartingoftheways,herelayhappinessandhonor,andallthatwashighandnoble;therelaythesoul-killinground,thelonelylife,thebasepursuitofmoney,thesordid,selfishaims.
Heneededbutthehandofthewomanthathelovedtoleadhimintothebetterpath.
Andhowhelovedherhislifewouldshow.
Helovedherforhersweetness,forherwomanliness,forherstrength.Hehadneedofher.Wouldshenotcometohim?
AndthenofasuddenasshelisteneditcamehometoherthatthemanwasHaroldDenver,andthatshewasthewoman,andthatallGod’sworkwasverybeautiful—thegreenswardbeneathherfeet,therustlingleaves,thelongorangeslashesinthewesternsky.
Shespoke;shescarceknewwhatthebrokenwordswere,butshesawthelightofjoyshineoutonhisface,andherhandwasstillinhisastheywanderedamidthetwilight.
Theysaidnomorenow,butonlywanderedandfelteachother’spresence.
Allwasfresharoundthem,familiarandyetnew,tingedwiththebeautyoftheirnew-foundhappiness.
“Didyounotknowitbefore?”heasked.“Ididnotdaretothinkit.”
“WhatamaskoficeImustwear!HowcouldamanfeelasIhavedonewithoutshowingit?Yoursisteratleastknew.”
“Ida!”
“Itwaslastnight.Shebegantopraiseyou,IsaidwhatIfelt,andtheninaninstantitwasallout.”
“Butwhatcouldyou—whatcouldyouseeinme?Oh,Idopraythatyoumaynotrepentit!”Thegentleheartwasruffledamiditsjoybythethoughtofitsownunworthiness.
“Repentit!IfeelthatIamasavedman.
Youdonotknowhowdegradingthiscitylifeis,howdebasing,andyethowabsorbing.Moneyforeverclinksinyourear.Youcanthinkofnothingelse.
FromthebottomofmyheartIhateit,andyethowcanIdrawbackwithoutbringinggrieftomydearoldfather?
TherewasbutonewayinwhichIcoulddefythetaint,andthatwasbyhavingahomeinfluencesopureandsohighthatitmaybracemeupagainstallthatdrawsmedown.Ihavefeltthatinfluencealready.
IknowthatwhenIamtalkingtoyouIamabetterman.
Itisyouwho,mustgowithmethroughlife,orImustwalkforeveralone.”
“Oh,Harold,Iamsohappy!”Stilltheywanderedamidthedarkeningshadows,whileonebyonethestarspeepedoutintheblueblackskyabovethem.
Atlastachillnightwindblewupfromtheeast,andbroughtthembacktotherealitiesoflife.
“Youmustgoin.Youwillbecold.”
“MyfatherwillwonderwhereIam.ShallIsayanythingtohim?”
“Ifyoulike,mydarling.OrIwillinthemorning.Imusttellmymotherto-night.Iknowhowdelightedshewillbe.”
“Idohopeso.”
“Letmetakeyouupthegardenpath.Itissodark.Yourlampisnotlityet.Thereisthewindow.Tillto-morrow,then,dearest.”
“Tillto-morrow,Harold.”
“Myowndarling!”Hestooped,andtheirlipsmetforthefirsttime.
Then,asshepushedopenthefoldingwindowssheheardhisquick,firmstepasitpasseddownthegraveledpath.
Alampwaslitassheenteredtheroom,andtherewasIda,dancingaboutlikeamischievouslittlefairyinfrontofher.
“Andhaveyouanythingtotellme?”sheasked,withasolemnface.Then,suddenlythrowingherarmsroundhersister’sneck,“Oh,youdear,dearoldClara!Iamsopleased.Iamsopleased.”
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