6. THE SHORE BY WYNDWAY
The east gleamed upon Ethelberta's squirrel-coloured hair as she said toher companion, 'I have come, Picotee; but not, as you imagine, from anight's sleep. We have actually been dancing till daylight at Wyndway.'
'Then you should not have troubled to come! I could have borne thedisappointment under such circumstances,' said the pupil-teacher, who,wearing a dress not so familiar to Christopher's eyes as had been thelittle white jacket, had not been recognized by him from the hill. 'Youlook so tired, Berta. I could not stay up all night for the world!'
'One gets used to these things,' said Ethelberta quietly. 'I should havebeen in bed certainly, had I not particularly wished to use thisopportunity of meeting you before you go home to-morrow. I could nothave come to Sandbourne to-day, because we are leaving to return again toRookington. This is all that I wish you to take to mother--only a fewlittle things which may be useful to her; but you will see what itcontains when you open it.' She handed to Picotee a small parcel. 'Thisis for yourself,' she went on, giving a small packet besides. 'It willpay your fare home and back, and leave you something to spare.'
'Thank you,' said Picotee docilely.
'Now, Picotee,' continued the elder, 'let us talk for a few minutesbefore I go back: we may not meet again for some time.' She put her armround the waist of Picotee, who did the same by Ethelberta; and thusinterlaced they walked backwards and forwards upon the firm flat sandwith the motion of one body animated by one will.
'Well, what did you think of my poems?'
'I liked them; but naturally, I did not understand all the experience youdescribe. It is so different from mine. Yet that made them moreinteresting to me. I thought I should so much like to mix in the samescenes; but that of course is impossible.'
'I am afraid it is. And you posted the book as I said?'
'Yes.' She added hurriedly, as if to change the subject, 'I have toldnobody that we are sisters, or that you are known in any way to me or tomother or to any of us. I thought that would be best, from what yousaid.'
'Yes, perhaps it is best for the present.'
'The box of clothes came safely, and I find very little alteration willbe necessary to make the dress do beautifully for me on Sundays. It isquite new-fashioned to me, though I suppose it was old-fashioned to you.O, and Berta, will the title of Lady Petherwin descend to you when yourmother-in-law dies?'
'No, of course not. She is only a knight's widow, and that's nothing.'
'The lady of a knight looks as good on paper as the lady of a lord.'
'Yes. And in other places too sometimes. However, about your journeyhome. Be very careful; and don't make any inquiries at the stations ofanybody but officials. If any man wants to be friendly with you, try tofind out if it is from a genuine wish to assist you, or from admirationof your fresh face.'
'How shall I know which?' said Picotee.
Ethelberta laughed. 'If Heaven does not tell you at the moment Icannot,' she said. 'But humanity looks with a different eye from love,and upon the whole it is most to be prized by all of us. I believe itends oftener in marriage than do a lover's flying smiles. So that forthis and other reasons love from a stranger is mostly worthless as aspeculation; and it is certainly dangerous as a game. Well, Picotee, hasany one paid you real attentions yet?'
'No--that is--'
'There is something going on.'
'Only a wee bit.'
'I thought so. There was a dishonesty about your dear eyes which hasnever been there before, and love-making and dishonesty are inseparableas coupled hounds. Up comes man, and away goes innocence. Are you goingto tell me anything about him?'
'I would rather not, Ethelberta; because it is hardly anything.'
'Well, be careful. And mind this, never tell him what you feel.'
'But then he will never know it.'
'Nor must he. He must think it only. The difference between histhinking and knowing is often the difference between your winning andlosing. But general advice is not of much use, and I cannot give moreunless you tell more. What is his name?'
Picotee did not reply.
'Never mind: keep your secret. However, listen to this: not a kiss--notso much as the shadow, hint, or merest seedling of a kiss!'
'There is no fear of it,' murmured Picotee; 'though not because of me!'
'You see, my dear Picotee, a lover is not a relative; and he isn't quitea stranger; but he may end in being either, and the way to reduce him towhichever of the two you wish him to be is to treat him like the other.Men who come courting are just like bad cooks: if you are kind to them,instead of ascribing it to an exceptional courtesy on your part, theyinstantly set it down to their own marvellous worth.'
'But I ought to favour him just a little, poor thing? Just the smallestglimmer of a gleam!'
'Only a very little indeed--so that it comes as a relief to his misery,not as adding to his happiness.'
'It is being too clever, all this; and we ought to be harmless as doves.'
'Ah, Picotee! to continue harmless as a dove you must be wise as aserpent, you'll find--ay, ten serpents, for that matter.'
'But if I cannot get at him, how can I manage him in these ways you speakof?'
'Get at him? I suppose he gets at you in some way, does he not?--triesto see you, or to be near you?'
'No--that's just the point--he doesn't do any such thing, and there's theworry of it!'
'Well, what a silly girl! Then he is not your lover at all?'
'Perhaps he's not. But I am his, at any rate--twice over.'
'That's no use. Supply the love for both sides? Why, it's worse thanfurnishing money for both. You don't suppose a man will give his heartin exchange for a woman's when he has already got hers for nothing?That's not the way old Adam does business at all.'
Picotee sighed. 'Have you got a young man, too, Berta?'
'A young man?'
'A lover I mean--that's what we call 'em down here.'
'It is difficult to explain,' said Ethelberta evasively. 'I knew onemany years ago, and I have seen him again, and--that is all.'
'According to my idea you have one, but according to your own you havenot; he does not love you, but you love him--is that how it is?'
'I have not quite considered how it is.'
'Do you love him?'
'I have never seen a man I hate less.'
'A great deal lies covered up there, I expect!'
'He was in that carriage which drove over the hill at the moment we methere.'
'Ah-ah--some great lord or another who has his day by candlelight, and soon. I guess the style. Somebody who no more knows how much bread is aloaf than I do the price of diamonds and pearls.'
'I am afraid he's only a commoner as yet, and not a very great oneeither. But surely you guess, Picotee? But I'll set you an example offrankness by telling his name. My friend, Mr. Julian, to whom you postedthe book. Such changes as he has seen!--from affluence to poverty. Heand his sister have been playing dances all night at Wyndway--What is thematter?'
'Only a pain!'
'My dear Picotee--'
'I think I'll sit down for a moment, Berta.'
'What--have you over-walked yourself, dear?'
'Yes--and I got up very early, you see.'
'I hope you are not going to be ill, child. You look as if you ought notto be here.'
'O, it is quite trifling. Does not getting up in a hurry cause a senseof faintness sometimes?'
'Yes, in people who are not strong.'
'If we don't talk about being faint it will go off. Faintness is such aqueer thing that to think of it is to have it. Let us talk as we weretalking before--about your young man and other indifferent matters, so asto divert my thoughts from fainting, dear Berta. I have always thoughtthe book was to be forwarded to that gentleman because he was aconnection of yours by marriage, and he had asked for it. And so youhave met this--this Mr. Julian, and gone for walks with
him in evenings,I suppose, just as young men and women do who are courting?'
'No, indeed--what an absurd child you are!' said Ethelberta. 'I knew himonce, and he is interesting; a few little things like that make it allup.'
'The love is all on one side, as with me.'
'O no, no: there is nothing like that. I am not attached to any one,strictly speaking--though, more strictly speaking, I am not unattached.'
''Tis a delightful middle mind to be in. I know it, for I was like itonce; but I had scarcely been so long enough to know where I was before Iwas gone past.'
'You should have commanded yourself, or drawn back entirely; for let metell you that at the beginning of caring for a man--just when you aresuspended between thinking and feeling--there is a hair's-breadth of timeat which the question of getting into love or not getting in is a matterof will--quite a thing of choice. At the same time, drawing back is atame dance, and the best of all is to stay balanced awhile.'
'You do that well, I'll warrant.'
'Well, no; for what between continually wanting to love, to escape theblank lives of those who do not, and wanting not to love, to keep out ofthe miseries of those who do, I get foolishly warm and foolishly cold byturns.'
'Yes--and I am like you as far as the "foolishly" goes. I wish we poorgirls could contrive to bring a little wisdom into our love by way of achange!'
'That's the very thing that leading minds in town have begun to do, butthere are difficulties. It is easy to love wisely, but the rich man maynot marry you; and it is not very hard to reject wisely, but the poor mandoesn't care. Altogether it is a precious problem. But shall we clamberout upon those shining blocks of rock, and find some of the little yellowshells that are in the crevices? I have ten minutes longer, and then Imust go.'