Part 26 (2/2)
Gradually she persuaded herself that only her own self-consciousness, of which she was never more aware than when with Noel, was responsible for that strange lack, which she dared not attempt to define, lest in so doing she should shatter the feeble structure built out of sentimentality and resolute self-blinding.
Partly because she instinctively craved a relief to her own feelings, and partly because she had really almost made herself believe in the truth of her own imaginings, Alex wrote her first love-letter, the shy, yet pa.s.sionately-worded self-expression of a young and intensely romantic girl, in love with the thought of Love, too ignorant for reserve, and yet too conscious of the novelty of her own experience for absolute spontaneity.
Alex did not sleep after she had written her letter, but she lay in bed in the warm, soft glow of the firelight, and saw the square, white envelope within which she had sealed her letter, leaning against the silver inkstand on her writing-table.
When the maid came to her in the morning, she brought a letter addressed in Noel's unformed hand.
It was quite short, and began:
”DEAREST ALEX (is that right?)”
It told her of the journey to Devons.h.i.+re, of an improvement in the invalid's state of health, and of Noel's own projected tour of inspection round the estate, which he thought had been neglected by his agent of late.
”But I shall be able to put all that right, I hope, as I'm rather keen about the housing of the poor, and questions of that sort. You might look out for any decent book on social economy, will you, Alex?”
The letter did not extend beyond the bottom of the second page, but Noel was going to write again in a day or two, when there was more to tell her, and with love to every one, he was hers for ever and a day, Noel.
Alex' reply went to Trevose the same day, but the letter she had written in the firelight, she burnt.
XII
Christmas Pantomime
The engagement was not announced, but a good many people knew about it.
Their congratulations pleased Alex, as did her mother's obvious pride and satisfaction.
She liked wearing her diamond ring, although she only did so at home, and she even found pleasure in writing of her new dignities to Barbara at Neuilly.
In such trivial anodynes did Alex seek oblivion for the ever-increasing terror that was gaining upon her.
Noel came back from Devons.h.i.+re after Christmas--and Lady Isabel sometimes spoke tentatively to Alex of a wedding early in the season.
”Jubilee year would be so charming for your wedding, my darling,” she said effusively.
Alex thought of a white satin dress and long train, of orange blossom and a lace veil, of bridesmaids, presents, the exciting music of Mendelssohn's Wedding March, and the glory of a wedding-ring. On any other aspects of the case her mind refused to dwell.
Nevertheless, she made little or no response to her mother's hinted suggestions. Neither Noel nor Alex ever exchanged the slightest reference to their marriage, although Noel often discoursed freely of a Utopian future for the tenantry at Trevose, the basis of which, by implication, was his suzerainty and that of Alex.
”I rather believe in the old-fas.h.i.+oned feudal system, personally. You may say that's just the contrary of my old socialistic ideas, Alex, but then I always think it's a mistake to be absolutely cast-iron in one's convictions. One ought to a.s.similate new ideas as one goes through life, and, of course, sometimes they're bound to displace preconceived notions. I'm a tremendous believer in _experience_; it teaches one better than anything else. Besides, Emerson says, 'Dare to be inconsistent.' I'm keen on Emerson, you know. Are you?”
”Oh, yes,” said Alex enthusiastically, wis.h.i.+ng to be sympathetic. ”But I only read Emerson a long while ago, when I was at school. Noel, were you happy at school?”
”Oh, yes,” said Noel unemotionally. ”The great thing at school is to be keen, and get on with the other fellows. They were always very decent to me.”
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