Part 19 (1/2)
”Norah! You can't let him go away like that. You _can't_! It's inhuman! The poor boy was crying when Mr Barton was singing. I saw the tears in his eyes. He went away because he could not bear to stay any longer. And you never said a word! Oh run, run!--go out of the side door, and cut across the shrubbery to meet him at the gate. Oh, Norah, quick! It is your last chance! Think! You may never see him again!”
The last words put an end to any hesitation which Norah may have felt.
Lettice held the door open, and she rushed out into the drizzling rain, hatless, cloakless, as she was, forgetting everything but that awful suggestion that she might never see Rex again. Down the narrow path, where a few weeks before she and Rex had first discussed the journey to India; across the plot of gra.s.s where Geraldine had her garden, and there, at the opening into the carriage drive, stood Rex himself, staring before him with a strained, expectant glance, which gave way to a flash of joy as Norah's tall figure came in sight.
”I thought you would come! I thought you would not let me go away without a word!” he said, and Norah gave a little sob of emotion.
”What can I say? You know all I feel. I shall think of you all the time, and wish you good luck; and every night when I say my prayers--”
”I know! Thank you, Norah.” Rex turned his head aside quickly, but Norah saw that he was trembling with emotion, and waited in awed suspense for his next words.
”Norah--it is a long time--three years--five years--I can't tell which it may be. I shall think of you all the time. There never will be anyone else for me; but it will be different with you. You will meet new friends up in London. There will be other fellows--better than I am--who will care for you too. Perhaps when I come back you may be married too!”
”No, Rex, don't be afraid. I am not like that. I never forget.”
He gripped her hand, but made no answer, and they stood together in a silence which was sweet to both, despite the rain, the gloom, the coming separation. Norah was the first to find her voice.
”You will write home often; and we will send you all the news. The time will soon pa.s.s, and you will enjoy the life and the strange new country.” She looked into his face with a flickering smile. ... ”They say there's bread and work for all, and the sun s.h.i.+nes always there...”
”But I'll not forget you, _darling_, be it fifty times as fair!” came the answer, in a strained, hoa.r.s.e whisper. Poor, shy Rex! Even at the moment of parting it was agony to him to speak that word of endearment, and having said it, he was consumed with embarra.s.sment. Norah was still tingling with delight, when her hand was seized in a painful grip, a gruff ”Good-bye, Norah!” sounded in her ears, and she was left alone in the garden path.
She put up her hands to her face and sobbed in helpless misery.
”Oh, Rex, Rex! Five long, long years! Oh, G.o.d, be good to my boy--take care of him! Bring him back safe and well!”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
A CONFESSION.
”And so you are engaged too, Norah!”
Half an hour had pa.s.sed since Rex had left Cloudsdale, and Lettice and Norah wore seated in the bedroom which they shared together, Norah still trembling and tearful, Lettice full of wide-eyed interest.
”And so you are engaged too!”
”No, not engaged. There is nothing definite, but I know that he cares for me, and I have promised to wait--”
”It's the same thing, but--five years! It is a terribly long time! So much may happen before then. You may change your mind!”
”No! I can't explain, but I simply could not think of anyone else while Rex was alive. It would be all the same if it were fifteen years. You need not pity me, Lettice. I shall keep house for father after you and Hilary are married, and I shall be quite happy. I don't think anything could make me unhappy again, now that I know Rex cares for me, and that when he comes back--” Norah stopped short, and Lettice drew in her breath with a painful respiration.
”Oh, Norie, I envy you! I wish I felt like that. I could never, never marry Arthur if I had to go out to India, and leave you all behind.
Even now-- Norah! if I speak out to you, will you keep it to yourself?
Will you promise faithfully not to repeat a word to father or Hilary, or anyone else? Will you? Answer, Norah, yes or no!”
”I--I--yes, I promise, Lettice, if you wish it, but wouldn't it be better--”
”No! no! I can speak to no one else, and not even to you unless you promise not to repeat a single word. Sometimes I am so miserable! I never intended to marry Arthur--never for a moment; but he was very nice to me--and I know you will be shocked, Norah, but I wanted him to go on being attentive, and sometimes I did pretend I liked him a little bit, when he seemed discouraged, or as if he were beginning to care less than he used. Then that day on the river he asked me to marry him, and I said No! I was horrified at the idea, and I tried to refuse him, I really did, but he looked so miserable--I couldn't bear to see him. I was quite happy for a little time after that, and when he was away I longed for him to come back; but since then father and Miss Carr have been so cross; there have been such worries with the house, and workmen, and dressmakers, that I have felt sometimes as if I would give the world to run away and hide, and never see any of them again!”
Norah sat motionless, gazing at her sister in horrified silence. Her heart beat in quick, painful throbs--even Rex himself was forgotten in the shock of hearing her worst fears confirmed in Lettice's own words.