She brushed past me, her eyes goggling, leaving all the doors ajar.
“Why have you done this?” I said to Rachel.
“You know perfectly well,” she answered;
“I told you in my note.”
“How long is she to stay?”
“As long as I choose.”
“You will not be able to stand her company for more than one day.
You will drive yourself mad, as well as me.”
“You are mistaken,” she said.
“Mary Pascoe is a good harmless girl.
I shall not talk to her if I do not wish for conversation.
At least I feel some measure of security with her in the house.
Also, it was time.
Things could not have continued as they had been, not after your outburst at the table.
Your godfather said as much before he left.”
“What did he say?”
“That there was gossip about my being here, which your boast of marriage will have done little to improve.
I don’t know what other people you have chatted to.
Mary Pascoe will silence further gossip.
I shall take good care of that.”
Was it possible that my action of the night before could bring about such change, such terrible antagonism?
“Rachel,” I said, “this can’t be settled in a moment’s conversation, with the doors open.
I beg of you, listen to me, let me talk to you alone, after dinner, when Mary Pascoe goes to bed.”
“You threatened me last night,” she said.
“Once was enough.
There is nothing to settle.
You can go now, if you wish.
Or stay and play cribbage here with Mary Pascoe.”
She turned again to the book of gardens.
I went from the room.
There was nothing else to do.
This then was my punishment, for that brief moment of the night before, when I had put my hands about her neck.
The action, instantly repented and regretted, was unforgivable.
This, then, the reward.
As quickly as my anger had come, it went, turning, with heavy dullness, to despair.
Oh, God, what had I done?
Such a little while ago, so few hours in time, we had been happy.
The exultation of my birthday eve, and all the magic, was now gone, frittered away by my own fault.
Sitting in the cold parlor of the Rose and Crown it had seemed to me that perhaps, in a few weeks, her reluctance to become my wife might be overcome.
If not immediately, then later; if not later, then what matter, so long as we could be together, in love, as on my birthday morning.
Hers the decision, hers the choice, yet surely she would not refuse?
I had been almost hopeful when I had come into the house.
But now the stranger, the third person, misunderstanding all about us still.
Presently as I stood in my room, I heard their voices approach the stair, and then the sweep of gowns descending.
It was later than I thought, they must be ready dressed for dinner.
I knew I could not face the business of sitting with them.
They must dine alone.
Anyway, I was not hungry; I felt cold and stiff, probably I had taken chill, and would be better in my room.
I rang the bell and told John to make my apologies, but I would not be down to dinner, I was going straight to bed.
This made a pother, as I feared it might, and Seecombe came up, concern upon his face.