Part 57 (1/2)
The soft, murmuring voice went on above her:
”I never heard of such a thing in my life as Barbara's bringing you here today--she never explained when she telephoned that you hadn't been in England for goodness knows how many years, let alone to this house. And, of course, I thought she'd settled it all with you, till I saw your face when she brought you into the drawing-room, all full of tiresome people, and brothers and sisters you hadn't set eyes on for _years_. Then I knew, of course, and I could have smacked her. You poor child!”
”No, no,” sobbed Alex incoherently. ”It's only just at first, and coming back and finding them all so changed, and not knowing what I am going to do.”
”Do! Why, you're coming here. Cedric and Rosemary and I want you, and Barbara doesn't deserve to keep you after the way she's begun. I'll settle it all with her.”
”Oh, how _kind_ you are to me!” cried Alex.
Violet bent down and kissed her.
”Kind! Why, aren't I your sister, and Rosemary your one and only niece?
Look at her, Alex, and see if she's like any one. Cedric sometimes says she's like your father.”
”A little, perhaps. But she's very like you, I think.”
”Oh, I never had those great, round, grey eyes! Those are Cedric's. And perhaps yours--they're the same colour. Anyway, I believe she's really very like what you must have been as a baby, Alex!”
It was evident that Violet was paying the highest compliment within her power.
Alex put out her hand timidly to little Rosemary. She was not at all shy, and seemed accustomed to being played with and admired, as she sat on her mother's lap. Alex thought how pretty and happy she and Violet looked together. She was emotionally too much worn-out, and had for too many years felt herself to be completely and for ever outside the pale of warm, human happiness, to feel any pang of envy.
Presently Violet reluctantly gave up Rosemary to the nurse again, and said:
”I'm afraid we ought to go down. I don't like to leave Barbara any longer. She never comes up here--hardly ever. Poor Barbara! I sometimes think it's because she hasn't any babies of her own. Let's come down and find her, Alex.”
They found Barbara in the library, earnestly talking to Cedric, who was leaning back, smoking and looking very much bored.
He sprang up when they entered, and from his relieved manner and from Barbara's abrupt silence, Alex conjectured that they had been discussing her own return.
She stood for a moment, forlorn and awkward, till Violet sank on to the big red-leather sofa, and held out her hand in invitation to her.
”Give me a cigarette, Cedric. What have you and Barbara been plotting--like two conspirators?”
Cedric laughed, looking at her with a sort of indulgent pride, but Barbara said with determined rapidity:
”It's all very well, Violet, to laugh, but we've got to talk business.
After all, this unexpected step of Alex' has made a lot of difference.
One thought of her as absolutely settled--as father did, when he made his will.”
”You see, Alex,” Cedric told his sister, ”the share which should have been yours was divided by father's will between Barbara and Pamela, and there was no mention of you, except just for the fifty pounds a year which my father thought would pay your actual living expenses in the convent. He never thought of your coming away again.”
”How could he, after all these years?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Barbara.
”I know. But I couldn't have stayed on, Cedric, indeed I couldn't. I know I ought to have found out sooner that I wasn't fitted for the life--but if you knew what it's all been like--”
Her voice broke huskily, and despair overwhelmed her at the thought of trying to explain what they would never understand.
”Poor little thing!” said Violet's compa.s.sionate voice. ”Of course, you couldn't stay on. They've nearly killed you, as it is--wretched people!”