E. M. Delafield

“ Ludovic stood looking out of the window.
“She is utterly bewildered by that woman,” he told himself angrily, “and distrusts her instinctively. Heaven help the child! What will she do in Cornwall? That woman will break her. Dear, kind, wonderful Bertie, as my mother calls her! and those two—sensitive, highly-strung, who’ve probably lived in an atmosphere of understanding all their lives....”
He wondered for a wild instant if his mother could be persuaded to receive Rosamund and Frances as daughters. It hardly seemed probable, in view alone of her admiration for their self-appointed guardian. ”

“ This was untrue—they only understood one another too well.
“My poor Morris!” sighed Nina. “He will see things so differently later on. Oh the blindness of youth, Bertie! It makes one’s heart ache sometimes. When I think of the stores of sad, sad, unavailing memories that my poor wayward, foolish boy is laying up for himself, when it is all too late!”
A certain complacency might have been detected in these heartrending glimpses into the future.
But Mrs. Tregaskis said consolingly: “He will learn, Nina. After all, he is so young—only a boy at Eton, for all his ridiculous airs.” ”

“ So near to the abyss now that no more clutching at thoughts and memories can save her, Rosamund prays:
[316] “Let her die. Let it all be over for her. Oh God, if there is mercy and pity in You let Frances die now. She has made the sacrifice—she was willing to give up everything for You—let that be enough—let her die now. Don’t let her come back to it all. If she dies now, it will be all over. She will be with You in Heaven perhaps, or else it will just be nothing—all over. That would be best—oh, that would be best. Never to know or feel anything any more—to be at rest. ”

“ Mulholland went on talking, it was as though a faint ray of light filtered down, reminding one that above the abyss there still lay solid ground with the sky overhead.
Then, very slowly, Rosamund realized that she had left the worst depths behind her. Never again would she know the blighting, searing agony of those first moments, and never again would she be as though she had not known them.
The initiation which life holds for most of us varies as strangely in its character as does the intensity of its effect upon us. ”

“ Bertha straightened herself slowly, and faced him.
“No,” she replied, deliberately, but very decisively. “The love of a place is a great thing—and I’m Cornish through and through, as you know—but, after all, other things matter more. Little Rosamund, for instance. Oh, it’s not only that she wanted me—wanted me to mother and shield and comfort her, as only a child that’s bought its own wilful experience can want one, but there’s the need of giving in her, too. You know that. I rather fancy that you, too, understand Rosamund.” ”

“ Rosamund looked at Mrs. Tregaskis. She had not the slightest expectation of accompanying her to the convent, and was not even sure that she wanted to do so.
“Rubbish,” said Mrs. Tregaskis briskly. “No use glowering at me, Rosamund. You’d be dreadfully in my way, darling, and in Frances’, too, little though you may believe it. She’s never quite natural and open when you’re there to try and tell her what she must say and what she mustn’t.” ”

“ She turned and glided noiselessly out of the room. Her whole demeanour was one of ageless, passionless aloofness. She was very unlike Mère Pauline, quick, alert, human.
“Ah, I wish that Mère Pauline could have been here to see you, my poor child,” cried Mrs. Mulholland, as though involuntarily struck by the contrast. “But human comfort can do very little for any of us. Now come with me, won’t you?”
She took Rosamund’s hand as though she had been guiding a child, and led her to the chapel door. ”

“ They’re your work in the world,” smiled Bertha tolerantly.
“Dear Bertie! How sweet of you to say so. I’m always afraid of being just some silly, trivial flowery thing—not of any real use in the world.”
“The world needs its little speedwell flowers just as much as its sturdy oak-trees,” laughed Bertha tenderly.
“Yes, dear,” said Nina deftly. “There is room for Mary as well as for Martha. It always comforts me to remember that.”
Comfort, however, was not the predominant expression on the face of Mrs. Tregaskis as she heard her friend’s favourite Scriptural parallel once more enunciated. ”

“ Nina was aware that to no one else would Frances have spoken so unreservedly, and the reflection was soothing, but it did not prevent a slight stiffening of tone in her reply.
“Really, dear? But the surest guide in the world is the golden rule which I have tried to live up to all my life—Never think of yourself at all. Somehow, if one gives all one’s thoughts and time to other people, one finds that God takes care of the rest.” ”

“ He turned to the piano at once, but not before he had seen the colour surge up into her face.
He gave them the gayest, wildest, most heartrending of Brahms’ Hungarian dances. When he ceased there was silence for a moment. Nina Severing turned so that the lamplight fell on her long lashes, sparkling a little with tears. She always cried a little at music which deserved to be called good, and she had never heard Morris play so well.
“Thank you, Morris,” said Bertha, less exuberantly than usual. “That’s a glorious thing—always rouses the gipsy in me. It’s so full of life and joy and ecstasy.” ”

“ Little Frances was fighting bravely with tears and fatigue, and Rosamund’s thoughts were in the Wye Valley, where lights were beginning to tremble in the cottage windows, and only the little house on the slope of the hill would remain dark and silent. Hazel looked at them from time to time with a sort of compassion in her great laughing eyes, but was more engaged in a kind of silent drama conducted between her knife and her silver mug, with which she nightly diversified the monotony of meals eaten in Miss Blandflower’s company. ”

“ One day she brought her some flowers, and Rosamund sobbed and cried over them, and tried to tell Mrs. Mulholland why, and could not.
“Now, my poor dear child, don’t try to talk about it. The fact is you’re still very weak, and the least thing oversets you. But you must remember that your dear little sister [320] has much better flowers to look at where she is now than any this poor old earth can offer. Eye hath not seen——” said Mrs. Mulholland, shaking her head. “I often think if this earth is so beautiful with flowers and everything, why, what must Heaven be?” ”

“ Frances had never spoken, or given any hint, of wishing to become a nun. And even supposing she were infatuated with the idea for a time, her guardian would be the last person to encourage such a step. It would all be stopped and forbidden, and Frances would never be wilfully disobedient.
Such a thing could not happen—no one entered a convent nowadays. It was in medieval times that girls of one’s own class became nuns—not nowadays. A convent had been a refuge from the world, then. Involuntarily Rosamund wondered whether it would not present itself in exactly that light to Frances, now. ”

“ The inquiry was more than tinged with doubtfulness, as Bertha eyed her friend coldly, and Mrs. Severing, with a sudden access of austerity, replied in accents grown markedly remote:
“Really, Bertie, you mustn’t ask me to come between Frances and her conscience. I have a very great deal of influence with her, as you know, and I shouldn’t care to take such a responsibility on myself. The child’s instinct is a very pure and holy one, and personally I can’t see why she shouldn’t follow her own inspiration. It may very well be a God-given one.” ”

“ Look at poor little me—I can’t run after Morris, let alone send a maid with him, and have to sit here with a trembling heart, wondering all the time how things are going with him.”
“That’s always the way with a son, my dear, or a husband either,” said Bertha, determinedly emphasizing the fact that she, although not the mother of a son, also possessed a male appendage.
“It’s our part just to sit at home and work and wait, while they have all the fun,” Nina sighed. “A woman’s life is one long self-sacrifice,” she murmured. ”

“ Your mother told me once that she rather wondered if the whole thing would end in Rosamund’s becoming a Roman Catholic, too. She made friends with a woman at Francie’s convent.... But it won’t. Rosamund hasn’t the religious temperament, for one thing. All she needed was to find herself. A modern phrase, isn’t it—and one that I rather avoid, as a rule, but it’s expressive enough. The child had to learn proportion—and it was taught her through the strongest thing she knew—her love for Frances. Reality is the only medium for reality, after all. ”

“ Frances said nothing, only looked at Hazel with large, distressed eyes.
“I’m talking of what I know nothing about,” declared Lady Marleswood, kissing her affectionately. “I won’t bother you about it, but if they worry you at Porthlew, when they know, you can come to us just whenever you like and for as long as you like. Nobody shall say anything to you, and you can go to church all day if you want to.”
“Oh, Hazel, how nice you are!”
“Good-night, Francie darling. Do remember that the only thing is to follow one’s own convictions quite regardless of anything and everyone. ”

“ A religious lives only to die.”
“Frances! Frances!”
“Now do cry as much as ever you like,” said Mrs. Mulholland [311] in practical tones that contrasted oddly with the fervour that still illuminated her coarse, plain old face. “It will do you good. God knows very well that you can’t help feeling your sacrifice, even though you make it with your will. And He won’t give you more than you can bear. Now, supposing we were to ask Him together to spare your dear sister’s life, if that is best for her?”
Rosamund’s eyes dilated slowly. ”

“ There is no solution.
And with that certainty comes the last failing clutch at the sense of proportion which lies at the back of sanity—and then the abyss.
“Poor child, poor child,” sobbed Mrs. Mulholland noisily outside the door. “Shall I bring her to you, Mother dear?”
“Bring her to the little parlour.”
Mrs. Mulholland creaked into the chapel, mopping at her eyes resolutely with a large handkerchief, and sank heavily on to her knees beside the bench where Rosamund was half kneeling and half crouching.
“Mother Juliana wants you in the little parlour, my dear. Will you come?” ”

“ No hint of humour had disturbed the placid purity of her intent gaze while listening to Lady Argent and plying her with gentle questions. She was manifestly absorbed in the subject, and her natural reverence was in no way shocked or checked by demonstrations which Ludovic in his own mind could only qualify as absurd. “She is a born mystic,” he thought with a sudden conviction that was almost physical in its intensity, “the stuff to make an ideal lady-abbess. If she becomes a Catholic, I believe she will be a nun.” ”

“ Tregaskis, how can you talk so ridiculously?” protested Minnie. “Why, you’re the youngest woman I know. They always say a woman is only as old as she looks.”
“Minnie, Minnie, don’t flatter! You know that spades are always spades with me. But I don’t mind telling you a little secret. I think we shall see Rosamund happy yet.”
“Oh! Do you mean...? But I used to think—only, of course, one can never tell——”
“You mean Morris. She won’t have him, my dear. He’s not the sort of man for her—he’s too young, for one thing. No, no—Ludovic Argent and the Wye Valley, for Rosamund, is what I think. ”

“ Rosamund felt suddenly grateful for the kindness of her voice and said:
“A little, Cousin Bertie.”
“A real deep draught of music always gives me a fresh lease of life,” remarked Mrs. Tregaskis, drawing a deep breath that expanded her broad chest yet more. “Not that we heard very much to-night, but the violin was good, of course. Funny that music doesn’t mean more to you two children, Rosamund. Your mother was wonderful. But still, I hope you and Frances enjoyed this evening.” ”

“ He noticed that she was strangely impersonal. She hardly spoke of people at all, except once, when she said, “I have always got Francie. I love her better than anyone in the world.” Of her guardian she did not say anything. But a lesser intuition than that of Morris Severing would have felt an intense rebelliousness to be the keynote of her whole life at Porthlew.
The magic afternoon sped by, and the shadows lengthened across the grass.
[66] Hazel Tregaskis called “Rosamund!” from the terrace, and they looked at one another with eyes that had suddenly awakened to another reality. ”

“ Ludovic loves music, and really knows a great deal about it,” said Lady Argent, believing herself to be stating a fact.
“One can always play to a true lover of music,” murmured Nina. “I often feel that with little Francie—child though she is.”
“Mrs. Grantham was so very musical, poor thing!” ejaculated Lady Argent, who would have felt it almost an irreverence to omit the epithet in the case of one deceased. “It is a pity the girls have not inherited her gift. They neither of them play, do they, or is Rosamund musical?” ”

“ Bertha told her gravely, “but neither your Cousin Frederick nor I wish to forbid it definitely. As you know, I’m not very much bound by any creed myself, so perhaps I don’t attach as much importance to your leaving the Church of England as other people may. So long as we all keep as straight as we can and play the game it doesn’t seem to me to matter very much what we call ourselves. So I’m going to leave you free to make your own choice, my little Francie.”
“I wish you didn’t mind—I wish I hadn’t got to make you unhappy,” said Frances in tears. ”

“ Bertha gave a slightly apologetic laugh at her own acerbity, and Nina, whose regard for Rosamund always waxed in proportion as her friend’s waned, murmured with the air of a compassionate angel:
“Poor child! One remembers the heartaches of one’s own youth. The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts, Bertie!”
“Well, Morris appears to have curtailed his successfully enough, at all events,” crisply returned Bertha. “I always said there was stuff in the boy, Nina, although you’ve spoilt him so outrageously.”
Nina laughed, and kissed Mrs. Tregaskis affectionately as they said good-bye. ”

“ Tregaskis dominated the conversation, which at first was general, but Ludovic noted with a certain surprise that she no longer provoked in him anything but a detached amusement. That it was far otherwise with Rosamund he felt convinced. There was latent hostility in her every glance and gesture, and she diffused an atmosphere of discontent that affected Ludovic strangely.
“She gives one a sense of unrest,” he reflected disappointedly. “The little sister, now, though she, too, is self-centred, has stability and a certain amount of poise. But Rosamund is unbalanced.” ”

“ Frances thought again how terrible a breakdown of health which should necessitate leaving the convent would be. She was sincerely convinced that to one who had tried the cloistered life, existence “in the world” must be unendurable.
She remembered how often Mère Thérèse had said briskly: “Où Dieu donne la vocation, il donne la santé,” and reflected with perfect simplicity that it would really only be necessary for her health to hold out until after her final vows, which she hoped to take in three years’ time. ”