CHAPTER XVI
LOVE AND LOSS
All unaware that they had been seen and by no friendly eyes, Godfreyand Isobel remained embracing each other for quite a long while. Atlength she wrenched herself away and, sinking on to a chancel bench,motioned to him to seat himself beside her.
"Let us talk," she said in a new voice, a strange voice that was lowand rich, such as he had never heard her use, "let us talk, my dear."
"What of?" he asked almost in a whisper as he took his place, and herhand, which he held against his beating heart. "My soul has beentalking to yours for the last five minutes, or is it five seconds orfive years? It does not seem to have anything more to say."
"Yet I think there is plenty to be said, Godfrey. Do you know thatwhile we were kissing each other there some very queer ideas got holdof me, not only of the sort which might be expected in our case? Youremember that Plantagenet lady who lies buried beneath where we werestanding, she whose dress I once copied to wear at the ball when I cameout."
"Don't speak of that," he interrupted, "for then you were kissingsomeone else."
"It is not true. I never kissed anyone else in that way, and I do notthink I ever shall. I kissed a rose, that's all, and I gather that youhave done as much and very likely a great deal more. But it is of thelady I am speaking, not of the ball. She seemed to come up from hergrave and enter into me, and say something."
"Well, what did she say, Isobel?" he asked dreamily.
"That's it, I don't know, although she talked to me as one might tooneself. All I know is that it was of trouble and patience and greatjoy, and war and tragedy in which I must be intimately concerned,and--after the tragedy--of a most infinite rest and bliss."
"I expect she was telling you her own story, which seems to have endedwell," he replied in the same dreamy fashion.
"Yes, I think so, but also that she meant that her story would be mystory, copied you know, as I copied her dress. Of course it is allnonsense, just the influence of the place taking hold of me whenovercome by other things, but at the time it seemed very real."
"So does a bad dream," said Godfrey, "but for all that it isn't real.Still it is odd that everything important seems to happen to us withina few feet of that lady's dust, and I can't quite disbelieve in spiritsand their power of impressing themselves upon us; I wish I could. Thestrange thing is that _you_ should put any faith in them."
"I don't, though I admit that my views about such matters are changing.You know I used to be sure that when we die everything is over with us.Now I think differently, why I cannot say."
Then the subject dropped, because really they were both wrapped in thegreat joy of a glorious hour and disinclined to dwell upon fanciesabout a woman who had died five hundred years ago, or on metaphysicalspeculations. Also the fear of what might follow upon that hour hauntedthem more vividly than any hovering ghost, if such there were.
"My dear," said Isobel, "I am sorry, but I must say it; I am sure thatthere will be trouble about this business."
"No doubt, Isobel; there always is trouble, at least where I amconcerned; also one can't be happy without paying. But what does itmatter so long as we stick to each other? Soon we shall both be of ageand can do what we like."
"One always thinks that, Godfrey, and yet, somehow, one never can. Freewill is a fraud in that sense as in every other."
"I have something, as you know, enough with my pay to enable us to geton, even if you were disinherited, dear, though, of course, you couldnot live as you have been accustomed to do."
"Oh! don't talk to me of money," she said impatiently, "though for thematter of that, I have something, too, a little that comes to me frommy mother. Money won't divide us, Godfrey."
"Then what will, Isobel?"
"Nothing in the long run," she answered with conviction, "not evendeath itself, since in a way we are one and part of each other andtherefore cannot be separated for always, whatever happens for a while,as I am sure that something will happen which will make you leave me."
"I swear that I will never leave you, I will die with you first," heexclaimed, springing up.
"Such oaths have been made often and broken--before the dawn," sheanswered, smiling and shaking her head.
"I swear that I will always love you," he went on.
"Ah! now I believe you, dear!" she broke in again. "However badly youmay behave, you will always love me because you must."
"Well, and will you always love me however badly I behave?"
"Of course," she answered simply, "because I must. Oh! whatever we mayhear about each other, we may be quite certain that we still love eachother--because we must--and all your heaven and hell cannot make anydifference, no, not if they were both to join forces and try theirbest. But that does not mean that necessarily we shall marry eachother, for I think that people who love like that rarely do marry,because, you see, they would be too happy, which something is alwaystrying to prevent. It may mean, however," she added reflectively, "thatwe shall not marry anybody else, though even that might happen in yourcase--not in mine. Always remember, Godfrey, that I shall never marryanybody else, not even if you took three wives one after the other."
"Three wives!" gasped Godfrey.
"Yes, why not? It would be quite natural, wouldn't it, if you wouldn'tmarry me, and even proper. Only I should never take one--husband, Imean--not from any particular virtue, but just because I couldn't. Yousee, it would make me ill. And if I tried I should only run away."
"Oh! stop talking nonsense," said Godfrey, "when so soon you will haveto go to see about those people," and he held out his arms.
She sank into them, and for a little while they forgot their doubts andfears.
The rain had ceased, and the triumphant sun shining gloriously throughthe west window of stained glass, poured its rays upon them, dyeingthem all the colours of an angel's wings. Also incidentally it madethem extremely conspicuous in that dusky church, of which they had allthis while forgotten to shut the door.