Stephen walked back to the vicarage through the meadows,as he had come,surrounded by the soft musical purl of the water through little weirs,the modest light of the moon,the freshening smell of the dews out-spread around.It was a time when mere seeing is meditation,and meditation peace.Stephen was hardly philosopher enough to avail himself of Natures offer.His constitution was made up of very ****** particulars;was one which,rare in the spring-time of civilizations,seems to grow abundant as a nation gets older,individuality fades,and education spreads;that is,his brain had extraordinary receptive powers,and no great creativeness.Quickly acquiring any kind of knowledge he saw around him,and having a plastic adaptability more common in woman than in man,he changed colour like a chameleon as the society he found himself in assumed a higher and more artificial tone.He had not many original ideas,and yet there was scarcely an idea to which,under proper training,he could not have added a respectable co-ordinate.
He saw nothing outside himself to-night;and what he saw within was a weariness to his flesh.Yet to a dispassionate observer,his pretensions to Elfride,though rather premature,were far from absurd as marriages go,unless the accidental proximity of ****** but honest parents could be said to make them so.
The clock struck eleven when he entered the house.Elfride had been waiting with scarcely a movement since he departed.Before he had spoken to her she caught sight of him passing into the study with her father.She saw that he had by some means obtained the private interview he desired.
A nervous headache had been growing on the excitable girl during the absence of Stephen,and now she could do nothing beyond going up again to her room as she had done before.Instead of lying down she sat again in the darkness without closing the door,and listened with a beating heart to every sound from downstairs.The servants had gone to bed.She ultimately heard the two men come from the study and cross to the dining-room,where supper had been lingering for more than an hour.The door was left open,and she found that the meal,such as it was,passed off between her father and her lover without any remark,save commonplaces as to cucumbers and melons,their wholesomeness and culture,uttered in a stiff and formal way.It seemed to prefigure failure.
Shortly afterwards Stephen came upstairs to his bedroom,and was almost immediately followed by her father,who also retired for the night.Not inclined to get a light,she partly undressed and sat on the bed,where she remained in pained thought for some time,possibly an hour.Then rising to close her door previously to fully unrobing,she saw a streak of light shining across the landing.Her fathers door was shut,and he could be heard snoring regularly.The light came from Stephens room,and the slight sounds also coming thence emphatically denoted what he was doing.In the perfect silence she could hear the closing of a lid and the clicking of a lock,--he was fastening his hat-box.Then the buckling of straps and the click of another key,--he was securing his portmanteau.With trebled foreboding she opened her door softly,and went towards his.One sensation pervaded her to distraction.Stephen,her handsome youth and darling,was going away,and she might never see him again except in secret and in sadness--perhaps never more.At any rate,she could no longer wait till the morning to hear the result of the interview,as she had intended.She flung her dressing-gown round her,tapped lightly at his door,and whispered Stephen!He came instantly,opened the door,and stepped out.
Tell me;are we to hope?
He replied in a disturbed whisper,and a tear approached its outlet,though none fell.
I am not to think of such a preposterous thing--thats what he said.And I am going to-morrow.I should have called you up to bid you good-bye.
But he didnt say you were to go--O Stephen,he didnt say that?
No;not in words.But I cannot stay.
Oh,dont,dont go!Do come and let us talk.Let us come down to the drawing-room for a few minutes;he will hear us here.
She preceded him down the staircase with the taper light in her hand,looking unnaturally tall and thin in the long dove-coloured dressing-gown she wore.She did not stop to think of the propriety or otherwise of this midnight interview under such circumstances.She thought that the tragedy of her life was beginning,and,for the first time almost,felt that her existence might have a grave side,the shade of which enveloped and rendered invisible the delicate gradations of custom and punctilio.
Elfride softly opened the drawing-room door and they both went in.
When she had placed the candle on the table,he enclosed her with his arms,dried her eyes with his handkerchief,and kissed their lids.
Stephen,it is over--happy love is over;and there is no more sunshine now!
I will make a fortune,and come to you,and have you.Yes,I
will!
Papa will never hear of it--never--never!You dont know him.I do.He is either biassed in favour of a thing,or prejudiced against it.Argument is powerless against either feeling.
No;I wont think of him so,said Stephen.If I appear before him some time hence as a man of established name,he will accept me--I know he will.He is not a wicked man.
No,he is not wicked.But you say "some time hence,"as if it were no time.To you,among bustle and excitement,it will be comparatively a short time,perhaps;oh,to me,it will be its real length trebled!Every summer will be a year--autumn a year--winter a year!O Stephen!and you may forget me!
Forget:that was,and is,the real sting of waiting to fond-hearted woman.The remark awoke in Stephen the converse fear.
You,too,may be persuaded to give me up,when time has made me fainter in your memory.For,remember,your love for me must be nourished in secret;there will be no long visits from me to support you.Circumstances will always tend to obliterate me.
