Thomas_He_Cometh_Not_She_Said.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
cloud over
her shoulders and the thick dull black silk
dress (which had been of great efficacy in
*sho wing-off' various splendours at and
, and which she now wears in memory
of the uncle who has left her 100/. a year)^
and they saunter slowly down through the
262 '" , .
grounds to the * they go through
the village street a little more hurriedly, and
presently find themselves in the
garden, where . greets them
with the words,
" girls, was coming up to you with
; why did you drag out to-night,
? "
seems to that .
has some communication to make, that she is
trying to send a telegram from her own eyes
to 's mind. bewildered
can make nothing of it. has the eye of
a falcon, and sees presently what is going on.
" you want to speak to alone ? "
she asks abruptly, and . is
so overwhelmed by the suddenness of the
question, and by many other things, that she
says, " ! no, was only afraid you were
sitting in a draught."
. 268
" didn't like to let me see that you
thought required care ; my dear . -
derson, if heard anyone discuss the size of
my coffin, and the quality of my shroud, it
would have no effect on me."
" this is morbid, ! "
" ! it may : only know it's the
case ; it would have no eflFect on me, for
don't think for a moment that shall die for
many a long year. 've a weary time to go
through yet; am young and strong just
as strong as was when was happy; my
pale face means nothing ; 1 am really strong,
may sit in this draught with impunity."
is something in the quiet reckless-
ness of the girl's tone and manner that
actually hurts those who are listening to her.
diversion's sake, says,
" is ? have told that
he is here."
264 "' , .
" out," is the brief answer.
" us go on your lovely lawn,"
says, rising up and passing out through the
window ; " how exactly it all is like what
it used to be when was here before, and
my sorrow was sleeping. ! what sense
and mercy there is in those words, *
sorrow sleepeth, wake it not.' has
been roused up effectually ; and oh, dear me,
how many weary years it will have to be
awake am so young and strong."
words are not such as incline one
to answer them. her two com-
panions keep silence till they find themselves
on the lawn. has managed to
slip her hand through 's arm, and give
her a pressure that is as full of human love
and sympathy, as the most eloquent words
could be.
*' at my regalis," .
. 265
says, pointing out a flourishing
group of the royal monster fern ; " that dull,
silent pool that hated so much when
came here first, is turning out the most
ornamental spot in my garden, now that
it is fringed with these ferns. used to
be so dreadfully afraid that my children
would tumble in ; but now they're growing
up, its banks are the favourite family re-
sort."
" . should think," says, "judging
from the well-worn appearance of the rustic
chairs." then they all seat themselves
on these chairs, which are placed on the smooth
elastic turf close to the edge of the pond,
and amuse themselves with looking at the
reflection of the stars as they flash out, in
the motionless, dark waters.
"'s sweet enough to induce one to sit
here all night," says ; " nevertheless'
266 ** ^ ,' ."
as soon as comes in, he must be our
escort home."
, the is in a
state of chaos. and .
have arrived, with their man and
maid, and these two are making a
horrible burden to the flustered landlady by
their dissatisfaction. by their
complaints and suggestions, the worthy
woman forgets her cunning, and overseasons
some viands, and under-cooks others, and
finally serves up a complete failure of three
courses to a hungry, tired, and irritable pair.
" shall not stay in this hole to be
starved," says in fiery tones,
as the last remnants of the ill-starred feast
vanish from the table.
. 267
" sQoner we go, the better shall be
pleased/' her husband rejoins ; ^ you may do
me the favour of remembering that was
opposed to coming here from the first."
" sentimentality, and false too/'
says in a white rage, rising
and going to the window; "you're weak
enough, know that; but am not going
to believe that you're weak enough to have
any feeling left for this , who
threw you oflF like an old glove directly she
was tired of you, and had seen your cousin."
does not answer her, she is
about to turn round with an unmistakable
scowl on her fair, tired-looking face.
before she can do it, her glance is arrested
by the sight of and another
young lady walking down the street.
guesses at once that they are going to
the , to see that .
2G8 " ' ,' ."
of wliom has made frequent mention.
she resolves that she too, and ,
shall follow with little delay.
, a smile is the mask she wears,
instead of a scowl, when she does turn round.
" ,'* she begins, with the fawning air
she can adopt at a moment's notice ; " for-
give my petulance, hunger is gnawing every
bit of the courtier out of me; accept the
amende am going to make : take me to
see your friend, . ? "
has nothing reasonable to urge
against this request. has not seen that
graceful figure in the grey cloud, therefore
he infinitely prefers the idea of going and
having a pleasant evening at the
with . and his cousin ,
and possibly , to that of spend-
ing the evening alone with his spouse in a
dull village inn. very soon comes to
. 269
the end of vivacious, vain .
having come to the end of her, one has
not the faintest desire to retrace one's steps.
when the stars come out and
jewel the skies, puts on a
youthful hat, and a "real cashmere," and
attends her with a careless indifference
as to what will happen next, that will never
be his portion again.
talk between the three women on the
border of the silent, black pool, often flags ;
but they sit on contentedl}^ for there is a
certain pleasurable sense of rest to each one
of them in being together in this way,
is by feir the most silent of the three,
and when she does speak it is only to wonder
" has not come back yet/'
270 "* -031ETH ,' )/'
she has expressed this wonder several times,
she feels that an explanation is dne to .
" and are going to be married soon,**
she says ; and then she goes on to inform
that as he is going to the his time
must be principally spent in . **
won't be dull at all, because,
luckily, 's mother and sisters have agreed
to come and live at ; and
we shall run down whenever can spare
time, for he won't let me be away from my
kingdom long/'
" /' says aflFectionately,
" how good it is when the real
comes at last instead of at first." then
she goes on to talk freely with of the
latter's future, until it seems to both her
hearers that her own heart has grown
lighter.
stars keep on breaking out on the sur-
. 271
face of the dark pool in greater beauty each
moment, and the reflection of a splendid one
gets broken and shattered into a myriad
diamonds by the light ripple that is caused
by the movement of the big fronds of the
royal fern. order to watch it draws
her chair nearer and nearer to the edge, and
, comes out, and they are all
as much interested in the heavenly bodies as
if there were no such things as false and
absent lovers in the world.
through the still night air the
parlour-maid's voice comes to them saying,
" mistress and the young ladies are out
on the lawn, sir,'' and now figures loom tall
as they approach them in the star-hght, and
presently is in their midst,
saying,
" have brought my wife to introduce to
you, , ."
272 " ' , .
is all sudden, it is so much like an
awful nightmare from which if she moves she
may free herself, that does move, and
does free herself, poor thing.
of the water that is behind her,
as she has turned her head to see-him coming,
she rises, steps back, and then there is a dull
clashing sound in the pool, and is no
longer one of them.
upon cry is raised, for the pool is
known to be terribly deep, and the stars are
twinkling confusedly on its broken surface.
has not seen the fece of the
woman who has disappeared, but in the
midst of the panic he only is prompt.
has sprung in before he knows what he is
springing after.
assistance is rendered to him by those
who rush frantically round the margin, declar-
ing that they are sure " she is rising tiiere.*
. 273
she does rise it is far from the spot any
one has indicated ; and when , nearly
exhausted himself, bears her to the bank in
his arms^ it is a dead face that the stars look
down upon.
" an awful thing to have happened
on our wedding-tour," says ;
"quite like a bad omen. never como
near the of again."
looks quite old as she says this to
. , a day or two after the oc-
currence old, and worn, and disappointed.
. , who does not know all
the facts of the case, pities the living wife,
who knows that she will never have a place in
her husband's heart, more than she does the
dead love, who has done with all the toil and
endeavour now.
. .
274 "'he not/ .''
" after all," as says to the
day before their own marriage, "he came to
her at the last; she knew ( hke to feel sure
of that^) that he was trying to save her."