august 17th.
i was wheeled into the library every day, and lay in state upon the sofa, receiving callers. mother drove over each afternoon for a short visit. will came in often, and brought mr carstairs with him. the other members of vere’s house-party had returned home, but this poor, good fellow could not tear himself away from the neighbourhood until the doctor had come to some more definite conclusion about vere.
a specialist had been down from town, and he pronounced the spine injured by the fall, but hoped that, with complete rest, recovery was possible in the future. how long would she have to rest? it was impossible to say. if he said a year, it would probably be exciting false hopes; it might be two years, or even three. and at the end of that time, even of the longest time, was there any certainty? it was impossible to be certain in such cases, but the probabilities made for improvement. miss sackville had youth on her side, and a good constitution. it was a mistake to look on the dark side. “hope, my dear sir, hope is a more powerful medicine than people realise! fifty guineas, please—thank you! train leaves at two o’clock, i think you said?”
i was thankful i had not to tell vere the verdict. father broke it to her, and said she “took it calmly,” but he looked miserable, and every time he went to see her he looked still more wretched and baffled. there is no other word to express it. he seems impatient for me to see her, and when at last i could hobble to the door of her room, went with me and whispered urgently, “try what you can make of her! don’t avoid the subject. it is better sometimes to speak out,” and i went in, feeling almost as anxious as he was himself.
vere was lying in bed, with her hair twisted loosely on the top of her head, and wearing one of her pretty blue jackets, all ribbons and frilly-willies. in a way she looked just the same; in a way so different that i might never have seen her before. the features were the same, but the expression was new; it was not that she looked troubled, or miserable, or cross, or anything like that; you could not tell what she felt; it was just as if a mask covered everything that you wanted to see, and left only the mere bare outline.
she spoke first.
“well, una! so your foot is better, and you can get about? i was so sorry to hear it was bad. i suppose you are not able to get out yet?”
“oh, no! this is my longest walk. i am afraid of attempting the stairs. the greaves are very kind. i believe they like having us here.”
“having you, you mean. i am sure you must make a delightful break in the monotony. as for me,”—she thrust out her hands with an expressive little grimace—“i have been rather a nuisance to everybody while these stupid doctors have been debating over the case. it’s a comfort that they have made up their minds at last, and that i can be moved as soon as there is a place ready for me. father is ordering a spinal carriage from london with the latest conveniences, like the suburban villas. i believe you lie on a mattress or something of the sort, which can be lifted and put down in the carriage. such a saving of trouble! it is wonderful how cleverly they manage things nowadays.”
just the old, light, airy voice; just the same society drawl. she might have been talking of a new ball dress for any sign of emotion to be seen, and yet i know well that vere—the old vere—could have faced no fate more bitter than this! i stared at her, and she stared back with a fixed, unchanging smile. i knew by that smile that it was not resignation she felt; not anything like that lovely willing way in which really good people accept trouble—crippled old women in cottages, who will tell you how good god has been to them, when they are as poor as mice, and have never been out of one room for years; and other people who lose everybody they love best, and spend their lives trying to make other people happy, instead of glumping alone. i have really and truly known people like that, but their faces looked sweet and radiant. vere’s was very different. i knew now what father had been worrying about the last few days, and what he meant by advising me to speak openly, but it was not easy to do so. i was afraid of her with that new look!
“we are both cripples for the time being, but if i get strong before you do, i’ll do everything i can to help you, dear, and make the time pass quickly,” i was beginning feebly, when she caught me up at once, as if she did not want to hear any more.
“oh, thanks; but i love lazing. i am quite an adept in the art of doing nothing, and you will have quite enough on your hands. it’s a capital thing for you, my being out of the running. you would never have taken your proper place unless you were really forced into it. now you will have to be miss sackville, and you must keep up my reputation and do credit to your training.”
“i shall never take your place, vere,” i said sadly, and then something—i don’t know what—reminded me suddenly of mr carstairs, and i asked if she knew he was staying with will.
“oh, yes. he writes to me frequently—sheets upon sheets. he has made up his mind to stay until he can see me again, and realise that i am still in the flesh, so he will have the pleasure of seeing me in my new chair. i must send him an invitation to join me on my first expedition. he really deserves some reward for his devotion.”
i had a vision of them as they would look. vere stretched at full length, flat on her back, on that horrid-looking chair, and mr carstairs towering above her, with his face a-quiver with grief and pity, as i had seen it several times during the last week. if it had been me, i should have hated appearing before a lover in such a guise, and i am only an ordinary-looking girl, whereas vere is a beauty, and has been accustomed to think of her own appearance before anything in the world. i could not understand her.
“i like jim carstairs,” i said sturdily. “i hope some day i may have someone to care for me as he does for you, vere. it must be a lovely feeling. he has been in such distress about you, and on that night—that awful night—i shall never forget his face—”
“ah, you have an inconvenient memory, babs! it was always your failing. for my part i mean to forget all about it as soon as possible. you were very good and brave, by the way, and, i am afraid, hurt your foot in trying to save me. i would rather not return to the subject, so i will just thank you once and for all, and express my gratitude. you practically saved my life. think of it! if it had not been for you i should not have had a chance of lying here now, or riding about in my fine new chair!”
“vere, don’t! don’t sneer!” i cried hotly, for the mask had slipped for a moment, and i had caught a glimpse of the bitter rebellion hidden beneath the smile. “it is awful for you—we are all wretched about it; but there is hope still, and the doctor says you will get better if only you will give yourself a chance. why do you pretend? why smile and make fun when all the time—oh, i know it, i know it quite well—your heart is breaking!”
her lip trembled. i thought she was going to break down, but in a moment she was composed again, saying in the same light, jeering tones—
“would you prefer me to weep and wail? you have known me all your life; can you imagine me—vere sackville—lying about with red eyes and a swollen face, posing as an object of pity? can you imagine me allowing myself to be pitied?”
“not pitied, perhaps—no one likes that; but if people love you, and sympathise—”
“bah!” she flicked her eyelids impatiently. i realised at that moment that she could not move her head, and it gave me a keener realisation of her state than i had had before. “bah! it is all the same. i want nothing from my friends now that they did not give me a month ago. if i have to be on my back instead of walking about, it is no affair of theirs. i neither ask nor desire their commiseration. the kindest thing they can do is to leave me alone.”
i thought of the old days when she was well and strong, and could run about as she liked, and how bored she was after a few days of quiet home life. how could she bear the long weeks and months stretched out motionless on a couch, with none of her merry friends to cheer her and distract her thoughts. the old vere could not have borne it, but this was a new vere whom i had never seen before. i felt in the dark concerning her and her actions.
we talked it over at tea that afternoon, rachel and will and i. he came to call, so mr greaves sent up a polite message that he preferred to remain in his own room, and, of course, his poor wife had to stay, too, so for once we young people were alone. i was a little embarrassed at being number three with a pair of lovers, as any nice-minded person would be. i did all i could for them—i pretended to be tired, and said i thought i’d better be wheeled back to my room, and i made faces at rachel behind will’s back to show what i meant, but she only smiled, and he said—
“i can see you, babs, and it’s not becoming! we have no secrets to talk about, and would much rather have you with us, wouldn’t we, rachel?”
“of course you are to stay, una dear; don’t say another word about it,” rachel answered kindly, but that wasn’t exactly answering his question. she was too honest to say that she would rather have me there, and i don’t think she quite liked his saying so, either, for she was even quieter than usual for the next five minutes. then will began to talk about vere, and of mr carstairs’ anxiety, and father’s distress about her state of mind. he seemed to think that she did not realise what was before her, but rachel and i knew better than that, and assured him that he need fear no rude awakening.
“vere is not one of the people who deceive themselves for good or bad. she is very shrewd and far-seeing, and, though she may not say anything about it, i know she has thought of every single little difficulty and trouble that will have to be faced. when it comes to the point, you will see that she has her own ideas and suggestions, which will be better than any others. she will order us about, and tell us what clothes to choose, how to lift her, and where to take her. and she will do it just as she is doing things now, as calmly and coolly as if she had been accustomed to it all her life.”
“extraordinary!” cried will. he put down his cup and paced up and down the floor, frowning till his eyebrows met. “marvellous composure! i should not have believed it possible. a lovely girl like that to have her life wrecked in a moment; to look forward to being a hopeless invalid for years—perhaps for ever. it is enough to unhinge the strongest brain, and she bears it without a murmur, you say; realises it all and still keeps calm? you women are wonderful creatures. you teach us many lessons in submission.”
rachel and i looked at each other and were silent, but i knew that she knew, and i had a longing to hear what will would say. somehow, ever since knowing him i have always felt more satisfied when i knew his opinion on any subject. so i told him all about it. i said—
“i’ll tell you something, but you mustn’t speak of it to mr carstairs, or father, or anybody; just think over it yourself, and try if you can help her. rachel knows—she found out for herself, as i did. vere is not brave nor submissive, nor anything that you think; it is only a pretence, for in reality she is broken-hearted. she won’t allow herself to give in like other people, so she has determined to brave it out, and pretend that she doesn’t care. she has always been admired and envied, and would hate it if people pitied her now, and i think there is another reason. she is angry! angry that this should have happened to her, and that it should have happened just now when she was enjoying herself so much, and was so young and pretty. she feels that she has been ill-used, and it makes her cold and bitter. i’ve felt the same myself when things went wrong. it isn’t right, of course: one ought to be sweet and submissive, but—can’t you understand?”
“yes,” said will, quickly. he stopped in his pacings to and fro, and stood thinking it over with his head leant forward on his chest. his face looked so kind, and troubled, and sorry. “oh, yes,” he said, “i understand only too well. poor girl, poor child! it’s awfully sad, for it is going to make it all so much more difficult for her. she doesn’t see it, of course, but what she is trying to do is to accept the burden and refuse the consolation which comes with it.”
“i must say i fail to see much consolation in an injured spine,” i said hastily, and he looked across the room, opening his eyes with that quick, twinkling light which i loved to see.
“ask rachel,” he said, “ask rachel! if she broke her back to-morrow she would have at least twenty good reasons for congratulation with which to edify me for the first time we met. wouldn’t you, dear? i am quite sure you would accept it as a blessing in disguise.”
“if i broke my back i should die, will. it is always fatal, i believe!” quoth rachel the literal, blushing with pleasure at his praise, but talking as primly and properly as if she were addressing a class in a school. she is a queer girl to be engaged to!
i saw will’s eyebrows give just one little twitch on their own account, as if he thought so himself, but the next moment he sat down beside her and said gently—
“but if you were in miss sackville’s place, how would you feel? how would you face the truth?”
she leant back in her chair and stared before her with big, rapt eyes, her fingers clasping and unclasping themselves on her knee.
“there is only one way—to look to god for help and courage. pride and anger can never carry her through the long days and nights that will be so hard to bear. they must fail her in the end, and leave her more helpless than before. the consolations are there, if she will open her eyes to see them, and afterwards—afterwards she will have learnt her lesson!”
we sat quiet for quite a long time, and then came the inevitable summons, and rachel went away and left us alone.
“i told you she was the best woman in the world!” will said, smiling at me proudly. i didn’t feel inclined to smile at all, but the tears came suddenly to my eyes, and i began to sob like a baby.
“oh, yes, yes, but i am not, and vere is my sister, and she was so pretty and gay. i can’t be resigned for her! i can’t bear to see her lying flat on her back; i can’t bear to think of that awful chair. how can i talk to her of submission when i’m rebellious myself? i’m all hot, and sore, and miserable, and i want to know why, why, why? why was our dear old home burnt when other houses are safe and sound? why should we be crippled and made sad and gloomy just when we thought it was going to be so nice? all my school life i have looked forward to coming home, and now it’s all spoiled! i’m not made like rachel. i can’t sit down and be quiet. it doesn’t come natural to me to be resigned; i want to argue and understand the meaning of things. i have to fight it through every inch of the way.”
“i, too, babs,” he said sadly. “i’m afraid i have kicked very hard against the pricks several times in my life. every now and then—very rarely—one meets a sweet soul like rachel who knows nothing of these struggles; they are born saints, and appear to rise superior to temptations, but most of us are continually fighting. there’s this consolation, that the hour of victory can never be so sweet as when it comes after a struggle.”
“and vere—will she win too? i can think of no one but her just now. we used often to quarrel, and i’ve been jealous of her hundreds of times. i never knew i loved her so much till we were in danger, but now i’d give my life to save her, and help her through this terrible time!”
“and you will do it, too. vere will win her battle, but not with her own weapons, as rachel says. pride and anger won’t carry her very far down the road she has to travel, poor child. it will be a gentler weapon.”
“you mean—?”
will turned his back to me, and stood staring out of the window. he looked so big and strong himself, as if no weakness could touch him.
“i mean—love,” he said softly.
i wondered what he meant. i wondered why he turned his face from me as he spoke. i wondered if the thought of vere lying there all broken and lovely was too much for his composure, and if he was longing to save her himself. but then there was rachel. he could never be false to poor trusting rachel!
