Vain Fortune Part 21

'Now tell me what the doctor said. Did he say I would soon recover? Did he say that I was very bad? Tell me all.'

'He said that you ought to have a change--that you should go south somewhere.'

'And you agree with him that I ought to go away?'

'Is he not the best judge?--the doctor's orders!'

'Then you, too, have learnt to hate me. You, too, want to send me away?'

'My dear Emily, I only want to do as you like. You asked me what the doctor said, and I told you.'

Hubert got up and walked aside. He pa.s.sed his hand across his eyes. He could hardly contain himself; the emotion that discussion with this sick girl caused him went to his head. She looked at him curiously, watching his movement, and he failed to understand what pleasure it could give her to have him by her side, knowing, as she clearly did, that his heart was elsewhere. Turning suddenly, he said--

'But tell me, Emily, how are you feeling? You are, after all, the best judge.'

'I feel rather weak. I should get strong enough if----'

She paused, as if waiting for Hubert to ask her to finish the sentence. But he hurriedly turned the conversation.

'The doctor said you looked as if you had not had any sleep for several nights. I told him that that was strange, for you were taking chloral.'

'I sleep well enough,' she said. 'But sometimes life seems so sad, that I do not think I shall be able to bear with it any longer. You do not know how unfortunate I have been. When I was a child, father and mother used to quarrel always, and I was the only child. That was why Mr. Burnett asked me to come and live at Ashwood. I came at first on a visit; and when father and mother died, he said he wished to adopt me. I thought he loved me; but his love was only selfishness. No one has ever loved me. I feel so utterly alone in this world--that is why I am unhappy.'

Her eyes filled with tears, and at the sight of her tears Hubert's feelings were overwrought, and again he had to walk aside. He would give her all things; but she was dying for him, and he could not save her. No longer was there any disguis.e.m.e.nt between them. The words they uttered were as nothing, so clearly did the thought shine out of their eyes, 'I am dying of love for you,' and then the answer, 'I know that is so, and I cannot help it.' Her whole soul was spoken in her eyes, and he felt that his eyes betrayed him equally plainly. They stood in a sort of mental nakedness. The woman no longer sought for words to cover herself with; the man did, but he did not find them. They had not spoken for some time; they had been thinking of each other. At last she said, and with the querulous perversity of the sick---

'But even if I wished to go abroad, with whom could I go?'

Hubert fell into the trap, and, noticing the sudden brightness in his eyes, a cloud of disappointment shadowed hers. 'Of course, with Mrs. Bentley. I a.s.sure you, my dear Emily, that you----'

'No, no, I am not mistaken! She hates me, and I cannot bear her. It is she who is making me ill.'

'Hate you! Why should she hate you?'

Emily did not reply. Hubert watched her, noticing the pallor of her cheek, so entirely white and blue, hardly a touch of warm colour anywhere, even in the shadow of the heavy hair.

'I would give anything to see you friends again.'

'That is impossible! I can never be friends with Julia as I once was. She has---- No, never can we be friends again. But why do you always take her part against me? That is what grieves me most. If only you thought----'

'Emily dear, these are but idle fancies. You are mistaken.'

The conversation fell. The girl lay quite still, her hands clasped across the shawl, her little foot stretched beyond the limp black dress, the hem of which fell over the edge of the grey sofa. Hubert sat by her on a low chair, and he looked into the fire, whose light wavered over the walls, now and again bringing the face of one of the pictures out of the darkness. The wind whined about the windows. Then, speaking as if out of a dream, Emily said--

'Julia and I can never be friends again--that is impossible.'

'But what has she done?' Hubert asked incautiously, regretting his words as soon as he had uttered them.

'What has she done?' she said, looking at him curiously. 'Well, one thing, she has got it reported that--that I am in love with you, and that that is the reason of my illness.'

'I am sure she never said any such thing. You are entirely mistaken. Mrs.

Bentley is incapable of such wickedness.'

'A woman, when she is jealous, will say anything. If she did not say it, can you tell me how it got about?'

'I don't believe any one ever said such a thing.'

'Oh yes, lots have said so--things come back to me. Julia always was jealous of me. She cannot bear me to speak to you. Have you not noticed how she follows us? Do you think she would have left the room just now if she could have helped it?'

'If you think this is so, had she not better leave?'

Emily did not answer at once. Motionless she lay on the sofa, looking at the grey November day with vague eyes that bespoke an obsession of hallucination. Suddenly she said, 'I do not want her to go away. She would spread a report that I was jealous of her, and had asked you to send her away. No; it would not be wise to send her away. Besides,' she said, fixing her eyes, now full of melancholy reproach, 'you would like her to remain.'

'I have said before, Emily, and I a.s.sure you I am speaking the truth, I want you to do what you like. Say what you wish to be done, and it shall be done.'

'Is that really true? I thought no one cared for me. You must care for me a little to speak like that.'

'Of course I care for you, Emily.'

'I sometimes think you might have if it had not been for that play; for, of course, I'm not clever, and cannot discuss it with you.... Julia, I suppose, can--that is the reason why you like her. Am I not right?'

'Mrs. Bentley is a clever woman, who has read a great deal, and I like to talk an act over with her before I write it.'

'Is that all? Then why do people say you are going to marry her?'

'But n.o.body ever said so.'

'Oh yes, they have. Is it true?'

'No, Emily; it is not true.'

'Are you quite sure?'

'Yes, quite sure.'

'If that is so,' she said, turning her eyes on Hubert, and looking as if she could see right down into his soul, 'I shall get well very soon. Then we can go on just the same; but if you married her, I----'

'I what?'

'Nothing! I feel quite happy now. I did not want you to marry her. I could not bear it. It would be like having a step-mother--worse, for she would not have me here at all; she would drive me away.'

Hubert shook his head.

'You don't know Julia as well as I do. However, it is no use discussing what is not going to be. You have been very nice to-day. If you would be always nice, as you are to-day, I should soon get well.'

Her pale profile seemed very sharp in the fading twilight, and her delicate arms and thin bosom were full of the charm and fascination of deciduous things. She turned her face and looked at Hubert. 'You have made me very happy. I am content.'

He was afraid to look back at her, lest she should, in her subtle, wilful manner, read the thought that was pa.s.sing in his soul. Even now she seemed to read it. She seemed conscious of his pity for her. So little would give her happiness, and that little was impossible. His heart was irreparably another's. But though Emily's eyes seemed to know all, they seemed to say, 'What matter? I regret nothing, only let things remain as they are.' And then her voice said--