CHAPTER XVI
"HOW COULD YOU HURT YOUR GRIZEL SO!"
To concentrate on Elspeth so that he might find out what was in hermind was, as we have seen, seldom necessary to Tommy; for he hadlearned her by heart long ago. Yet a time was now come when he had toconcentrate, and even then he was doubtful of the result. So often hehad put that mind of hers to rights that it was an open box to him, orhad been until he conceived the odd notion that perhaps it contained asecret drawer. This would have been resented by most brothers, butTommy's chagrin was nothing compared to the exhilaration with which heperceived that he might be about to discover something new aboutwoman. He was like the digger whose hand is on the point of closing ona diamond--a certain holiness added.
What puzzled him was the state of affairs now existing between Elspethand the doctor. A week had elapsed since the fishing excursion, andDavid had not visited them. Too busy? Tommy knew that it is the busypeople who can find time. Could it be that David had proposed to herat the waterside?
No, he could not read that in Elspeth's face. He knew that she wouldbe in distress lest her refusal should darken the doctor's life fortoo long a time; but yet (shake your fist at him, ladies, for somisunderstanding you!) he expected also to note in that sympatheticface a look of subdued triumph, and as it was not there, David couldnot have proposed.
The fact of her not having told him about it at once did not prove toTommy that there had been no proposal. His feeling was that she wouldconsider it too sacred a thing to tell even to him, but that it wouldforce its way out in a week or two.
On the other hand, she could not have resisted dropping shyly suchremarks as these: "I think Dr. Gemmell is a noble man," or, "Howwonderfully good Dr. Gemmell is to the poor!"
Also she would sometimes have given Tommy a glance that said, "Iwonder if you guess." Had they quarrelled? Tommy smiled. If it wasbut a quarrel he was not merely appeased--he was pleased. Had he hadthe ordering of the affair, he would certainly have included a lovers'quarrel in it, and had it not been that he wanted to give her thepleasure of finding these things out for herself, he would have takenher aside and addressed her thus: "No need to look tragic, Elspeth;for to a woman this must be really one of the most charming moments inthe comedy. You feel that he would not have quarrelled had he had anyreal caring for you, and yet in your heart you know it is a proof thathe has. To a woman, I who know assure you that nothing can be moredelicious. Your feeling for him, as you and I well know, is but asentiment of attraction because he loves you as you are unable to lovehim, and as you are so pained by this quarrel, consider how much morepainful it must be to him. You think you have been slighted; that whena man has seemed to like you so much you have a right to be told so byhim, that you may help him with your sympathy. Oh, Elspeth, you thinkyourself unhappy just now when you are really in the middle of one ofthe pleasantest bits of it! Love is a series of thrills, the oneleading to the other, and, as your careful guardian, I would not haveyou miss one of them. You will come to the final bang quickly enough,and find it the finest thrill of all, but it is soon over. When youhave had to tell him that you are not for him, there are left only thepleasures of memory, and the more of them there were, the more therewill be to look back to. I beg you, Elspeth, not to hurry; loiterrather, smelling the flowers and plucking them, for you may never bethis way again."
All these things he might have pointed out to Elspeth had he wantedher to look at the matter rationally, but he had no such wish. Hewanted her to enjoy herself as the blessed do, without knowing why. Nopity for the man, you see, but no ill will to him. David was havinghis thrills also, and though the last of them would seem a staggererto him at the time, it would gradually become a sunny memory. The onlytragedy is not to have known love. So long as you have theexperiences, it does not greatly matter whether your suit was afailure or successful.
So Tommy decided, but he feared at the same time that there had beenno quarrel--that David had simply drawn back.
How he saw through Elspeth's brave attempts to show that she had neverfor a moment thought of David's having any feeling for her saveordinary friendship--yes, they were brave, but not brave enough forTommy. At times she would say something bitter about life (not aboutthe doctor, for he was never mentioned), and it was painful to herbrother to see gentle Elspeth grown cynical. He suffered even morewhen her manner indicated that she knew she was too poor a creature tobe loved by any man. Tommy was in great woe about Elspeth at thistime. He was thinking much more about her than about Grizel; but donot blame him unreservedly for that: the two women who were his dearswere pulling him different ways, and he could not accompany both. Hehad made up his mind to be loyal to Grizel, and so all his pity couldgo to Elspeth. On the day he had his talk with the doctor, therefore,he had, as it were, put Grizel aside only because she was happy justnow, and so had not Elspeth's need of him.
The doctor and he had met on the hill, whence the few who look may seeone of the fairest views in Scotland. Tommy was strolling up and down,and the few other persons on the hill were glancing with good-humouredsuspicion at him, as we all look at celebrated characters. Had he beenhappy he would have known that they were watching him, and perhapshave put his hands behind his back to give them more for their money,as the saying is; but he was miserable. His one consolation was thatthe blow he must strike Elspeth when he told her of his engagementneed not be struck just yet. David could not have chosen a worsemoment, therefore, for saying so bluntly what he said: "I hear you areto be married. If so, I should like to congratulate you."
Tommy winced like one charged with open cruelty to his sister--chargedwith it, too, by the real criminal.
"It is not true?" David asked quietly, and Tommy turned from himglaring. "I am sorry I spoke of it, as it is not true," the doctorsaid after a pause, the crow's-feet showing round his eyes as alwayswhen he was in mental pain; and presently he went away, after givingTommy a contemptuous look. Did Tommy deserve that look? We mustremember that he had wanted to make the engagement public at once; ifhe shrank from admitting it for the present, it was because ofElspeth's plight. "Grizel, you might have given her a little time torecover from this man's faithlessness," was what his heart cried. Hebelieved that Grizel had told David, and for the last time in his lifehe was angry with her. He strode down the hill savagely towards CaddamWood, where he knew he should find her.
Soon he saw her. She was on one of the many tiny paths that lead thestranger into the middle of the wood and then leave him theremaliciously or because they dare not venture any farther themselves.They could play no tricks on Grizel, however, for she knew and wasfond of them all. Tommy had said that she loved them because they weresuch little paths, that they appealed to her like babies; and perhapsthere was something in it.
She came up the path with the swing of one who was gleefully happy.Some of the Thrums people, you remember, said that Grizel struttedbecause she was so satisfied with herself, and if you like an uglyword, we may say that she strutted to-day. It was her whole beinggiving utterance to the joy within her that love had brought. AsGrizel came up the path on that bright afternoon, she could no morehave helped strutting than the bud to open on the appointed day. Shewas obeying one of Nature's laws. I think I promised long ago to tellyou of the day when Grizel would strut no more. Well, this is the day.Observe her strutting for the last time. It was very strange andtouching to her to remember in the after years that she had oncestrutted, but it was still more strange and touching to Tommy.
She was like one overfilled with delight when she saw him. How couldshe know that he was to strike her?
He did not speak. She was not displeased. When anything so tremendoushappened as the meeting of these two, how could they find words atonce?
She bent and pressed her lips to his sleeve; but he drew away with agesture that startled her.
"You are not angry?" she said, stopping.
"Yes," he replied doggedly.
"Not with me?" Her hand went to her heart. "With me!" A wounde
d animalcould not have uttered a cry more pathetic. "Not with me!" Sheclutched his arm.
"Have I no cause to be angry?" he said.
She looked at him in bewilderment. Could this be he? Oh, could it beshe?
"Cause? How could I give you cause?"
It seemed unanswerable to her. How could Grizel do anything that wouldgive him the right to be angry with her? Oh, men, men! will you neverunderstand how absolutely all of her a woman's love can be? If shegives you everything, how can she give you more? She is not anotherperson; she is part of you. Does one finger of your hand plot againstanother?
He told her sullenly of his scene with the doctor.
"I am very sorry," she said; but her eyes were still searching for thereason why Tommy could be angry with her.
"You made me promise to tell no one," he said, "and I have kept mypromise: but you----"
The anguish that was Grizel's then! "You can't think that I told him!"she cried, and she held out her arms as if to remind him of who shewas. "You can believe that of your Grizel?"
"I daresay you have not done it wittingly; but this man has guessed,and he could never have guessed it from look or word of mine."
"It must have been I!" she said slowly. "Tell me," she cried like asuppliant, "how have I done it?"
"Your manner, your face," he answered; "it must have been that. Idon't blame you. Grizel, but--yes, it must have been that, and it ishard on me."
He was in misery, and these words leaped out. They meant only that itwas hard on him if Elspeth had to be told of his engagement in thehour of her dejection. He did not mean to hurt Grizel to the quick.However terrible the loss of his freedom might be to the man who couldnot love, he always intended to be true to her. But she gave the wordsa deeper meaning.
She stood so still she seemed to be pondering, and at last she saidquietly, as if they had been discussing some problem outsidethemselves: "Yes, I think it must have been that." She looked long athim. "It is very hard on you," she said.
"I feel sure it was that," she went on; and now her figure was erect,and again it broke, and sometimes there was a noble scorn in hervoice, but more often there was only pitiful humility. "I feel sure itwas that, for I have often wondered how everybody did not know. I havebroken my promise. I used always to be able to keep a promise. I hadevery other fault,--I was hard and proud and intolerant,--but I wastrue. I think I was vain of that, though I see now it was onlysomething I could not help; from the moment when I had a difficulty inkeeping a promise, I ceased to keep it. I love you so much that Icarry my love in my face for all to read. They cannot see me meet youwithout knowing the truth; they cannot hear me say your name but Ibetray myself; I show how I love you in every movement; I am full ofyou. How can anyone look at me and not see you? I should have beenmore careful--oh, I could have been so much more careful had I lovedyou a little less! It is very hard on you."
The note of satire had died out of her voice; her every look andgesture carried in it nothing but love for him; but all the unhappydog could say was something about self-respect.
Her mouth opened as if for bitterness; but no sound came. "How muchself-respect do you think is left for me after to-day?" she saidmournfully at last; and then she quickly took a step nearer her dearone, as if to caress the spot where these words had struck him. Butshe stopped, and for a moment she was the Grizel of old. "Have nofear," she said, with a trembling, crooked smile; "there is only onething to be done now, and I shall do it. All the blame is mine. Youshall not be deprived of your self-respect."
He had not been asking for his freedom; but he heard it running to himnow, and he knew that if he answered nothing he would be whistling itback for ever. A madness to be free at any cost swept over him. He letgo his hold on self-respect, and clapped his hand on freedom.
He answered nothing, and the one thing for her to do was to go; andshe did it. But it was only for a moment that she could be altogetherthe Grizel of old. She turned to take a long, last look at him; butthe wofulness of herself was what she saw. She cried, with infinitepathos, "Oh, how could you hurt your Grizel so!"
He controlled himself and let her go. His freedom was fawning on him,licking his hands and face, and in that madness he actually let Grizelgo. It was not until she was out of sight that he gave utterance to aharsh laugh. He knew what he was at that moment, as you and I shallnever be able to know him, eavesdrop how we may.
He flung himself down in a blaeberry-bed, and lay there doggedly, hisweak mouth tightly closed. A great silence reigned; no, not a greatsilence, for he continued to hear the cry: "Oh, how could you hurtyour Grizel so!" She scarcely knew that she had said it; but to himwho knew what she had been, and what he had changed her into, and forwhat alone she was to blame, there was an unconscious pathos in itthat was terrible. It was the epitome of all that was Grizel, all thatwas adorable and all that was pitiful in her. It rang in his mind likea bell of doom. He believed its echo would not be quite gone from hisears when he died. If all the wise men in the world had met toconsider how Grizel could most effectively say farewell to Tommy, theycould not have thought out a better sentence. However completely hehad put himself emotionally in her place with this same object, hewould have been inspired by nothing quite so good.
But they were love's dying words. He knew he could never again, thoughhe tried, be to Grizel what he had been. The water was spilled on theground. She had thought him all that was glorious in man--that waswhat her love had meant; and it was spilled. There was only one way inwhich he could wound her more cruelly than she was already hurt, andthat was by daring to ask her to love him still. To imply that hethought her pride so broken, her independence, her maidenly modesty,all that make up the loveliness of a girl, so lost that by entreatieshe could persuade her to forgive him, would destroy her altogether. Itwould reveal to her how low he thought her capable of falling.
I suppose we should all like to think that it would have been thuswith Grizel, but our wishes are of small account. It was not manyminutes since she left Tommy, to be his no more, his knife still inher heart; but she had not reached the end of the wood when all infront of her seemed a world of goblins, and a future without him notto be faced. He might beat her or scorn her, but not for an hour couldshe exist without him. She wrung her arms in woe; the horror of whatshe was doing tore her in pieces; but not all this prevented herturning back. It could not even make her go slowly. She did not walkback; she stole back in little runs. She knew it was her destruction,but her arms were outstretched to the spot where she had left him.
He was no longer there, and he saw her between the firs before shecould see him. As he realized what her coming back meant, his frameshook with pity for her. All the dignity had gone from her. She lookedas shamed as a dog stealing back after it had been whipped. She knewshe was shamed. He saw she knew it: the despairing rocking of her armsproved it; yet she was coming back to him in little runs.
Pity, chivalry, oh, surely love itself, lifted him to his feet, andall else passed out of him save an imperious desire to save her asmuch humiliation as he could--to give her back a few of those garmentsof pride and self-respect that had fallen from her. At least sheshould not think that she had to come all the way to him. With astifled sob, he rose and ran up the path towards her.
"Grizel! it is you! My beloved! how could you leave me! Oh, Grizel, mylove, how could you misunderstand me so!"
She gave a glad cry. She sought feebly to hold him at arm's length, tolook at him watchfully, to read him as in the old days; but the olddays were gone. He strained her to him. Oh, surely it was love atlast! He thanked God that he loved at last.