Part 66 (1/2)

In this last half-hour, perhaps the last she would ever spend with him, there seemed to be nothing important enough to say. She certainly could not speak of the things which were in her heart. When people realize that they are together for perhaps the last time on earth, is there anything which is more eloquent than silence?

It was Freddy who came to the rescue; he talked to save Margaret's dignity. With his keen eye and appreciation of her character, he knew the fight she was making for self-control. His talk was of his men and of his life as an officer in the Army, and of the politics of the day.

When he spoke of Ireland and of the satisfactory way in which she was behaving, their eyes met.

The question in Margaret's eyes was answered by a shake of his head and an immediate change of topic.

”Are you liking your work?” he said quickly.

”It's not thrilling, but it's doing my bit.”

”Splendid!” he said, and Margaret knew that he understood.

A little silence followed, and then Freddy said, in rather a shamed voice, ”Look here, Meg, we'd better be practical. I've left all my things in order--if I don't come back, you won't have any difficulty.

Of course, all I've got will be yours. There are a few things I know you'll always look after, things I specially value.”

Meg's throat was bursting and her lips began to quiver, but she choked back her emotions and regained her self-control. It came to her quite suddenly, just after speech had seemed hopeless.

”I understand--the Egyptian things. You can trust them to me.”

”I know I can,” he said. ”And do take care of yourself. . . . We'd better be making a move, I suppose.”

They both got up and shook their uniforms free of crumbs.

”I'm jolly thankful I managed to get the work in the Valley pretty well settled before this happened.”

”It was a bit of luck,” Margaret said. ”Doesn't it seem a shame that all that wonderful work and all intellectual life must come to a standstill, everything must be put aside for the one job that counts--the killing of human beings? That is now the one and only thing that matters; the most effectual way of killing ma.s.ses of men is the problem which scientific minds have set before them!”

Freddy looked keenly at her for a moment. Was Meg still imbued with Michael's anti-war views? England was at that moment tuned to such a pitch of war-enthusiasm that there was but one popular feeling and belief--that this war was sent to cleanse and purify the world, that it was a blessing in disguise, that but for this war England would have gone to the dogs. Anyone who dared to express an opinion contrary to this myth was condemned as pro-German or unpatriotic.

Meg felt her brother's eyes questioning her. ”Never fear,” she said.

”If I don't think that the war was necessary as the chosen means of arresting England in her downward course, I know that it has got to be fought to the finish, I know that the Allies have to prove that they will not submit to Prussian militarism dominating Europe. I never believed in the rottenness of England, and surely the spirits of our young men who are fighting ought to prove that it isn't? England decadent, indeed!”

”You're right,” Freddy said. ”England wasn't a bit rotten--or, at least, no rottener than she ever was, only the rottenness was all dragged into the limelight. Things are discussed in papers and from pulpits to-day which were never even spoken of between fathers and sons or husbands and wives in days gone by. If the war will stop all the absurd talk about England going to the d.i.c.kens, it won't be fought for nothing. We've decried our country long enough.”

They had only four minutes before they had to part. Margaret was beginning to feel numb and speechless. Were these four minutes to be the last she would ever spend with Freddy, and were they to go on talking as if he was only going back to Oxford after the long vacation?

Two more minutes pa.s.sed and they had said nothing that mattered. Truly words were given to hide our thoughts!

As Margaret looked up at the clock, Freddy put his arms round her and held her closely to him. This was Meg's first tender embrace since her farewell with Michael. It was very nearly her undoing.

”Good-bye, old girl,” was all that Freddy said; it was all he could say.

Meg clung to him and kissed him silently. Freddy felt her agony. It was greater than his own, for he had many responsibilities on his mind, and the excitement of actually going to take part in the ”real thing.”

He kissed her with a tenderness which was almost a lover's.

Meg was still silent. She dared not attempt to speak; she knew that Freddy would hate tears. The next moment, after a closer hug, he put her decisively from him.