Storm Music (1934) (9 page)

I WAS up betimes the next morning and had shaved and bathed and dressed before Helena called to me to know if I was awake.

"I'm dressed," said I, "and I'm just going to do my room."

"And your back?" "Is well," said I.

"Can you carry Max into the garden?"

"I could carry you to Witchcraft," said I.

"Well, wait a minute. I'll call you." Two minutes later I climbed the little staircase and carried the cradle down.

I had warm water ready, but Helena wished for the brook, so I took a sheet from the settle, filled a pail with the water which I had made hot and led the way to the miniature pool I had used. I spread the sheet on the bank, which now was alight with sunshine, and set the pail by its side; and there I left my lady to do what she could with a tube of my shaving-cream, for Freda's soap was not fit for delicate skin.

I had swept the stairs and the kitchen, had set our breakfast in the garden and was staring uneasily at Max, who had thrown his bedding out of his cradle and had twice removed his nightshirt in my despite, when I heard a step behind me, and there was Helena dressed as a country girl.

I cannot attempt to describe the picture she made.

I can only say that her skirt was of pure white linen and her beautiful legs were bare; that her shirt was short sleeved, embroidered very richly, cut low and round at the neck; that the flame of her kerchief was dulled by the lights in her hair.

"I had to change," she said simply. "I shall wash my own things this morning and press them this afternoon."

"I'm glad you did." I said feebly. "You— you look very nice."

"More in the picture, John?" I shook my head.

"All you've done," I said, "is to alter the picture's frame." I turned to the child. "And now about this infant. What's biting him I don't know. I've let him out twice, but that isn't what he wants. And he's fed right up with that shirt. It seems all right to me, but he won't keep it on. And look at his bedclothes!"

Helena crowed with laughter.

"You are stupid, John! Of course he wants to get up. If you'll go and get some warm water, we'll sluice him down on the grass."

Before I was back with a bucket she had fetched some things from the bedroom, and among them a tiny smock. With Sabre in close attendance I carried the naked urchin on to the neighbouring sward, and there we performed his ablutions— because, I think, the water was warm, to his great delight. He was a fine little boy, and stood up straight and smiling with Helena's hands in his while I let the water trickle over his face and head. His drying was a great business, with which, of course, Sabre must help, and we were all three laughing before it was done. Then he stood up again to be dressed, and when that was done I held him while Helena brushed his hair with her own pretty brush. By the time he had had his breakfast and was ready to enter his pen, I must confess that I could have eaten three meals, and poor Sabre was more than thankful for his portion of eggs and milk; but that such impatience was shameful I frankly admit, for few children, I think, that were not yet three years old would have suffered two strangers so gladly— and one of the strangers a fool— or have found any lack of understanding but matter for mirth. I would say that Helena had charmed him, for her way with the child was that of a laughing angel; and his eyes lit up at her coming, as though each time she appeared she made him some gift, yet to me he was very civil from first to last; if I overruled his intentions he never cried, and when later that day I made him a chair and a table for the wooden monkey to use, he inspected them very gravely and then put his arms round my neck.

AT half-past four Max awoke and was given his tea, and after a little while we sat down and ate our own; but since at half-past five my cousin had not appeared, we put out our pitcher and made ourselves scarce.

From the covert which we selected we could see the way to Witchcraft, yet could not be seen, for the ground rose up a little, to make a knoll, yet the bracken made us a breastwork through which we could see when we pleased, which no eye looking up from the path could ever have pierced.

As I turned to peer through the fronds :

"You are very impatient," said Helena.

"That's the wrong word," said I. "I can't tell you what's the right one, but it's rather like standing on a platform seeing somebody off by train."

Helena knitted her brows.

"I know the feeling," she said, "but I don't see how it applies."

"You wouldn't," said I. "Never mind. The train will leave when Geoffrey and Barley arrive."

"Perhaps he's coming tomorrow, instead of tonight."

"So much the better," said I, and pulled at the grass.

"And what of my name?" I sat up sharply.

With her head on one side, my lady was gravely regarding a beautiful palm.

"What's another twelve hours?" said I. "Your name stands or falls by last night."

Helena raised her eyebrows.

"You're getting quite reasonable."

"Don't you believe it,' said I.

"But—"

"I know. I take back what I said. As long as we're here alone, we're risking your name."

"Then you do hope he'll come?"

said Helena.

"For your sake— yes," I said shortly, and turned again to the path.

There was a little silence, broken at last by some woodpecker's careless mirth.

Max was playing quietly, loading his table with viands for the monkey to eat. Helena's dainty handkerchief made a fine cloth. Sabre was watching him gravely, monkey in mouth.

"You are not yourself," said Helena. "You've not been yourself the whole of this afternoon."

"I know," said I. "I've been standing on the platform ever since lunch."

"You do talk in riddles," she said, and pushed back her hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm all to bits. I've rather enjoyed this time."

"Sleeping in the kitchen?"

"Yes," said I. "And fetching fuel and water and watching you make the bread. All that we've done together I've loved it all. You see, I've never had a sister, and being with you like this has— has gone to my head."

"You've behaved very well," said Helena. "If Valentine was like you ... But I can't see him rising at dawn to make water warm for my bath."

"I wish to God," I burst out, "I could do it every day! Can't you see it's my pleasure— my ineffable pride and pleasure to wait upon you? You're— better than any sister."

"How do you know?"

"Instinct!" said I, thickly. "That's how I know. And please don't argue the point, because I can't say any more. I've never been so happy as I have been alone here with you, and never in all my life shall I be so happy again. I told you it was my idyll. And I'm not myself because, when Geoffrey comes, my idyll will go. And I don't want to let it go. I know I'm a fool, but I'm human. Adam and Eve— when they were pushed out of Eden, I'll bet it broke them down. Well, this is my Paradise, and I— don't want to get out."

Helena knitted her brows.

"It was all I could do," she answered, "to get you in. Besides, I can't see—"

"You wouldn't," I cried. "How could you? You've made the best of the business, and because you belong to Nature, you've found it a pleasant game. And you've let me be your playmate— the highest, most shining honour that ever a man was done. But it's not been a game to me, Helena. It's been most real and vivid . . Have you ever seen those glasses that seem to be full of wine? It's really collared water, locked up in the glass. And children pretend to drink it. Well, you've had a glass like that; but my glass was different. It's been a very short drink, but the wine was there the sort of wine you dream of, but never find."

Again I turned to stare at the way to Witchcraft, curling into the greenwood and seeming the very original of all those pretty paths down which Golden Locks and Red Riding Hood and Goody Two Shoes came stepping so naively into the Kingdom of Hearts.

"I'll watch the path," said Helena. "You go on talking, John. We shan't be alone much longer, and when Mr Bohun comes, you'll stop saying these pretty things."

"I mean them," I said slowly.

"I know," said Helena quietly. "That's why I like them so well."

I turned and looked at her.

"I said 'Go on talking,' " said Helena. "I told you I'd watch the path."

With that, she peered through the bracken, sitting up and lifting her chin.

"I can't go on talking," I said. "I'd like to amuse you, but the— the fountain doesn't play after six."

Helena glanced at her wrist.

"It's only ten minutes to— Never mind. There's something I wanted to ask you. The other night when you fell and I helped you up. I think you were faint for a moment, because of your pain. As I helped you, you called me 'Nell.' "

I nodded, with my eyes on her fingers, slim and cool and rosy, planted upon the turf.

"Why did you do that?" said Helena. "You— you drag my secrets out of me," I said desperately.

"All I did was to ask why you called me 'Nell.' "

"Helena, I tell you—"

"I think it's a natural question. But you seem so shy of the answer that I begin to wonder if we are really the friends that I thought we were. I suppose I remind you of someone or other called 'Nell'— that you used to love."

"Good God, no!" I almost shouted. My vehemence startled the baby and brought Sabre up to his feet.

With a hand about Max's shoulders: "Then what on earth is the matter? We've been very happy together, but now—"

"Please leave it there," I pleaded. "I don't want to smash our relation. I don't want—"

Helena seemed to stiffen. Then she sat up very straight.

" 'Smash our relation'?" she said. She shrugged her shoulders. "You've said too much or too little. Either you must explain, or our relation—" She broke off to peer through the fronds. "At last," she said. "Enter Mr. Bohun and Barley— with a suitcase in every hand. What do they think this is? The Majestic Hotel?" She turned a mocking face. "Mind you say goodbye nicely. The train's going off."

I think something snapped within me.

My beautiful dream was over, and now, through misunderstanding, our lovely, precious relation was going to come to an end. If I did not speak out, it was finished. If I did, it was finished, too. But, at least, if I spoke, she would know that my ways were honest, and though I should win her anger, I should not lose her respect. And what did anything matter, once Geoffrey was here? What was our relation worth, when the dream was gone? All the time the train was going...

" 'Put out the light,' " I said quietly, " 'and then put out the light.' First the dream, and then the relation. As Geoffrey's here, you may as well know the truth. My secret— 'Nell' ... I think of you as 'Nell' right deep down in my inmost heart. It's the pretty name I'd call you if we were engaged. You see— I'm mad about you. I love you; I've always loved you, from the moment I met your eyes. I love you walking and riding and sitting here on the grass. I love your head and your shoulders and that tiny vein in your ankle that looks like a thread of blue silk. I love everything about you and all you do. I love your voice and your laughter and the glorious light in your eyes. And I love your shining nature, as I love the smell of your hair and the breath of your lips. And to be with you here like this— well, now perhaps you can see what it's meant to me and why I clung to my secret and why I was handicapped in trying to play your game." I got to my feet. "Goodbye, Nell," I said gently.

I turned to the path and the smiling cottage below.

For a moment I stood, blinking.

Then—

"Have they gone in?" I asked.

"I— I made a mistake," said Helena. "It wasn't them."

I was sitting on the settle in the kitchen, with my head in my hands.

How I got there I do not know, for my case was like that of a man who plunges into some water to drown his cares, only to find that the bed of the river is dry; I doubt if such a man could tell how he got to the bank.

And I do not know how long I sat there, but all of a sudden I knew that I was not alone.

I could smell the faint perfume that Helena used.

As I started up I found she was sitting beside me, looking very grave and gentle, with her precious hands in her lap.

"I tricked you." she said. "I'm sorry. But it was the only way. You are very reticent, John. And very, very humble— and rather blind. Old Florin knew in an instant, and Pharaoh, too."

"KNEW that I loved you?" I cried.

Helena rose to her feet.

"This comes," she said, "of putting me up on a dais. I never was up on a dais where you were concerned. If you stand up, you'll find that I have to look up— to see myself in your eyes."

I stood up, trembling.

"Nell," I said hoarsely. "Nell."

As her fingers flew to her lips I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the door, which was shut.

Nearer and nearer they came ... Someone was standing at the threshold.

Then milk was poured into our pitcher, waiting without on the flags.

As the footsteps receded—

"We must go back to Max," said Helena.

"Not yet," said I. I set my hands on her shoulders and looked her full in the eyes. "That day we lunched at Yorick ... Florin looked at you, and you nodded and looked away. Was he ... asking you ... if you loved me?"

She met my gaze squarely.

"He was asking me if I was to be your wife."

"And you ..."

My brain was reeling.

"I told him what I hoped was the truth."

I was past all speaking.

As I drew her into my arms, her hands went up to my hair.

That the forester's wife might be late had never entered our heads. We were up betimes the next morning and were ready and waiting for Freda at a quarter to eight. We might have spared our energy, for eight o'clock went by, yet she did not come.

And nine o'clock went by ... and ten . . .

Bad news is trying enough; but when the absence of news is so prolonged that only a fool would continue to hope against hope, it is, I think, a stout heart that will feel no alarm.

There was no longer any doubt in our minds. Somehow or other Pharaoh had put a spoke in our wheel.