Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey

“ Claire stared with unseeing eyes, her heart beating with heavy thuds. She conjured up the image of a man’s face—a strong kindly face—a face which might well make the sunshine of some woman’s life, but which made no appeal to her own heart. She set her lips, and two bright spots of colour showed suddenly in her cheeks. So smooth and uneventful had been her life that this was the first time that she had found herself face to face with serious difficulty, and, after the first shock of realisation, her spirit rose to meet it. ”

“ Claire stood stiff and poker-like at her post, determined to make no movement until Mrs Fanshawe and her attendants had taken their departure. The storm of indignation and wounded pride which was surging through her veins distracted her mind from her surroundings; she was dimly conscious that one after another, her fellow-passengers had taken their departure, preceded by a porter trundling a truck of luggage; conscious that where there had been a crowd, there was now a space, until eventually with a shock of surprise she discovered that she was standing alone, by her own little pile of boxes. ”

“ Claire pushed her chair from the table, her face looked suddenly white and tired, there was a suspicious quiver in her voice.
“Oh, Cecil, don’t, don’t! You are poisoning me again. Leave me some faith! If I can’t believe in my fellow-creatures, I’d rather die at once, and be done with it. It stifles me to breathe the atmosphere of distrust and suspicion. And it isn’t true. There are good men, who would be all the more chivalrous because a girl was alone. I know it! I’m sure of it! I refuse to believe that every man is a blackguard because you have had an unfortunate experience.” ”

“ It was dreadfully tiring work being pleasant at the same time to the whole five ages of man!
With the opening of the door of the saffron parlour came an end of sleepiness, for on the table lay a square parcel, and the parcel bore the same stamp, the same markings which she had seen duplicated in Janet Willoughby’s boudoir! Red as a rose was Claire as she stared at the bold masculine writing of the address, tore open the wrappings of the box, and drew forth a carved cuckoo clock with the well-known chalet roof and long pendulum and chains. ”

“ It was almost worth while leading a life of all work and no play for six weeks on end, for the sheer delight of being frivolous once more; of dressing oneself in one’s prettiest frock, drawing on filmy silk stockings and golden shoes, clasping a pearl necklace round a white throat and cocking a feathery aigrette at just the right angle among coppery swathes of hair. No single detail was wanting to complete the whole, for in the old careless days Claire’s garments had been purchased with a lavish hand, the only anxiety being to secure the most becoming specimen of its kind. ”

“ The result was satisfactory enough, but Claire was irritated by the means. She was irritated also by the subtle but very real change in her hostess’s manner to herself in the last twenty-four hours; irritated because the precious hours were passing, and Erskine was surrounded by his guests, playing endless sets on the hot lawn. He looked as though he were enjoying himself, too, and that added to her annoyance, for like many another girl she had not yet realised that a man can forget even his love in his whole-hearted enjoyment of sport! ”

“ A school-mistress must banish her individuality as a woman on the threshold of the form-room; while on duty she must banish every outside interest from her mind. No lying in bed, with her face to the pillow; no weeping far into the night. Headache and swollen eyelids are not for her. If her love-story goes wrong, she must lock her sorrow in her own heart. ”

“ You would not be cruel enough to damp our happiness! You can do it, you know, if you persist in an attitude of coldness and disapproval. I don’t say you can destroy it. Thank God! it goes too deep for anyone to be able to do that. But you can rub off the bloom. Don’t do it, Claire! Be generous. Be yourself. Wish us good luck!”
“Wish who good luck? What, oh, what are you talking about?” Claire was gasping now, quivering with a frenzy of excitement. Robert Judge stared in return, his face full of an honest bewilderment. ”

“ The service that morning was food to Claire’s hungering soul, for the words of the preacher might have been designed to meet her own need. As she listened she realised that the bitterness of loneliness was impossible to one who believed and trusted in the great, all-compassing love. Sad one might still be, so long as the human heart demanded a human companionship, but the sting of feeling uncared for, could never touch a child of God. ”

“ Claire was silent, applauding the sentiment in the abstract, but shrinking from its application to the swarthy Major Carew. She stretched her hand across the table, and laid it caressingly on Cecil’s arm.
“Pauvre! Dear old girl! It’s no use saying he wasn’t worth having—that’s no comfort. When you have loved a man, it must be the worst blow of all to be obliged to despise him; but men are not all like that, Cecil; you mustn’t condemn them all because of one bad specimen. I’ve a great admiration for men. As a whole they are bigger than women—I mean mentally bigger—freer from mean little faults. ”

“ There was also a hammock swung between two apple-trees in the orchard, a balcony outside the bedroom window, and a shabby pony-cart, with a pony who could really go. What could one wish for more?
Claire planned a lazy month, lying in that hammock, reading stories about other people, and dreaming still more thrilling romances about herself; driving the pony along country lanes, going out on to the balcony in the early morning to breathe the scent of honeysuckle, and sweetbriar, and lemon thyme, and all the dear, old-world treasures to be found in the gardens of well-conducted farmhouses. ”

“ Cecil sighed, and stared dreamily at her cup. “Even now, Claire, after all that has happened, I can never quite make up my mind to be sorry that he came. It made things harder when the parting came, but I had had it. For two whole weeks I had been as perfectly, blissfully happy as a human creature can be! I had wakened every morning to feel that life was too good to be true, I had gone to bed every night grudging the time for sleep. A fortnight is not very long, but it’s not every woman who gets even as much as that. ”

“ It is good of you to come again. It’s—it’s hard being alone when you see the other patients with their own people. The nurses are dears, but they are so rushed, poor things, they haven’t time to stay and talk. And oh, Claire, the days! They’re so wearily long!”
Claire murmured tender exclamations of understanding and pity. A pained conviction that Sophie was no better made her shrink from putting the obvious question; but Sophie did not wait to be asked.
“Oh, Claire,” she cried desperately, “it’s so hard to be patient and to keep on hoping, when there’s no encouragement to hope! ”

“ The girl’s eyes were eloquent with love and admiration as they rested on the plain, elderly face, and the woman who was watching felt a stab of envy at the sight. The old crave for the love of the young, and cherish it, when found, as one of their dearest possessions, and despite the natural gaiety of her disposition there were moments when Mrs Fanshawe felt the burden of loneliness press heavily upon her.
“She has done much more than send me a card!” Claire said deeply. “She has been a friend. She has taken away the terrible feeling of loneliness. ”

“ Claire Gifford stood in the salon of the Brussels pension which had been her home for the last three years, and bent her brows in consideration of an all-absorbing problem. “Can I marry him?” she asked herself once and again, with the baffling result that every single time her brain answered instantly, “You must!” the while her heart rose up in rebellion, and cried, “I won’t!” Many girls have found themselves in the same predicament before and since, but few have had stronger reasons for sacrificing personal inclination on the altar of filial duty than Claire knew at this minute. ”

“ Won’t that do, Cecil? We can have bread-and-butter at home!”
“Cecil! Cecil! Her name is Mary. Why do you call her Cecil?” cried the Major quickly, looking from one girl to another. Claire fancied there was a touch of suspicion in his voice, and wondered that he should show so much interest in a mere nickname.
“Because she is ‘Rhodes,’ of course.”
For a moment his stare showed no understanding, then, “Oh! that fellow!” he said slowly. “I see! It’s a pretty name anyway. Beats Mary to fits. Mary is so dull and prosaic. Too many of them about. One gets sick of the sound.” ”

“ There was a school dance in the big class-room, a Christmas-tree party, given to the children in an East End parish, and last and most important of all the breaking-up ceremony in the local Town Hall, when an old girl, now developed into a celebrated authoress, presented the prizes, and gave an amusing account of her own schooldays, which evoked storms of applause from the audience, even Miss Farnborough smiling benignly at the recital of misdoings which would have evoked her sternest displeasure on the part of present-day pupils! ”

“ Despite her French training, the English instinct survived and clamoured for liberty, for independence. “It’s my own life. If I marry at all, I want to choose the man for no other reason than that I love him; not as a duty, and to please somebody else!” Then she glanced at her mother sitting by her side, slim, and graceful, with the little air of pathos and helplessness which even strangers found so appealing, and as she did so, a shiver passed through Claire’s veins. ”

“ It’s so stupid, too, for I know quite well that I’ve every sane reason to be pleased. How exasperating it is that one’s head and one’s heart so seldom agree!”
Claire gave the plump arm another squeeze, but made no further answer. She was afraid to show how well she understood. Janet would forget her hasty words, and believe that her secret was locked within her own breast; but the other girl realised the position as clearly as if she had been told in so many words—“I am in love with one man, and another man is in love with me. I am throwing away the substance for the shadow!” ”

“ Claire opened her lips to say that at least no more borrowed money should be supplied for Major Carew, but the words were never spoken. Pity engulfed her, a passion of pity for the poor woman who a second time had fallen under the spell of an unscrupulous man. Cecil’s explanation had fallen on deaf ears, for Claire could accept no excuses for a man who borrowed from a woman to ensure comfort and luxury for himself. An officer in the King’s army! The thing seemed incredible; so incredible that, for the first time, a rising of suspicion mingled with her dislike. ”

“ Cecil shook her head.
“No! Never again. One may be happy enough, but it’s never the same. I can’t feel now as I did then. The power has gone. I cared so much, you see; I would have given my life for him a dozen times over. I thought of him night and day for over a year; I lived for the times when we could meet. It wasn’t very often, for his people had taken fright, and would not ask me to the house. They were rich people, and didn’t want him to marry a poor girl who was working for herself. It’s a great mistake, Claire, to be friends with a man when his relations ignore you. ”