§ 21
He sought refuge in custom, and going up to her, laid his hands on her shoulders and kissed her gravely. Then he began to loosen the fur buttons of her big collar, but she put up her hand and stopped him.
“No—I’ll keep it on. I can’t stop long. Father’s waiting for me at Barline.”
“It’s good of you to come—there’s something I’ve got to say.”
“You want to tell me we must end it.”
He had not expected her to help him so quickly. Then he suddenly realised that his letter had probably told her a lot—his trouble must have crept between the lines—into the lines ... he wasn’t good at hiding things.
“Oh, Stella.”
He stood a few paces from her, and noticed—now that his thoughts were less furiously concentrated on himself—that she was white, that all the warm, rich colour in her cheeks was gone. He pulled forward one of the office chairs, and she sank into it. He sat down opposite her, and took her hand, which she did not withdraw.
“Oh, Stella, my darling ... my precious child ... it’s all no use. I’ve hoped and I’ve tried, but it’s no good—I must let you go.”
“Why?”
The word came almost sharply—she wasn’t going to help him, then, so much.
“Darling, I know I’m a cad. I ought never to have told you I loved you, knowing that ... at least when Hugh died I should have told you straight out how things were. But I couldn’t—I let myself drift, hoping matters would improve ... and then there was the war....”
“Peter, I wish you would tell me things straight out—now’s better than never. And honestly I can’t understand why you’re not going to marry me.”
He was a little shocked. Tradition taught him that Stella would try to save her face, and he had half expected her to say that she had never thought of marrying him. After all, he had never definitely asked her, and she might claim that this was only one of those passionate friendships which had become so common during the war. If she had done so, he would have conceded her the consolation without argument—a girl ought to try and save her face; but Stella apparently did not care about her face at all.
“Why aren’t you going to marry me? You’ve never given me any real reason.”
“Surely you know”—his voice was a little cold.
“How can I know? I see you the heir of a huge estate, living in a big house with apparently lots of money. You tell me again and again that you love me—I’m your equal in birth and education. Why on earth should I ‘know’ that you can’t marry me?”
“Stella, we’re in an awful mess—all the family. The estate is mortgaged almost up to the last acre—we can hardly manage to pay the yearly interest, and owing to the slump in land we can’t sell.”
Stella stared at him woodenly.
“Can’t you understand?”
“No—” she said slowly—“I can’t. I’ve heard that the war has hit you—it’s hit all the big landowners; but you’re—good heavens! you’re not poor. Think of the servants you keep, and the motor-cars——”
“Oh, that’s my hopeless parents, who won’t give up anything they’ve been accustomed to, and who say that it’s not worth while making ourselves uncomfortable in small things when only something colossal can save us. If we moved into the Lodge tomorrow and lived on five hundred a year it would still take us more than a lifetime to scrape up enough to free the land.”
“Then what do you propose to do?”
“Well, don’t you see, if I live at home I can manage somehow to keep down expenses, so that the interest on the mortgages gets paid—and when Greening’s gone and I’m agent I can do a lot to improve the estate, and send the value up so that we can sell some of the outlying farms over by Stonelink and Guestling—that’ll bring in ready money, and then perhaps I’ll be able to pay off some of the mortgages.”
“But couldn’t you do all that if you married me?”
“No, because for one thing I shouldn’t be allowed to try. Father wouldn’t have me for agent.”
“Why?”
“Oh, Stella darling, don’t make it so difficult for me. It’s so hard for me to tell you ... can’t you see that my people want to get money above all things—lots of it? If I marry you it’ll be the end of all their hopes.”
“They want you to marry money.”
“They want us all to marry money. Oh, don’t think I’m going to do it—I couldn’t marry anyone I didn’t love. But I feel I’ve got my duty to them as well as to you ... and it’s not only to them ... oh, Stella sweetheart, don’t cry!”
“I—I can’t help it. Oh, Peter, it all sounds so—so dreadful, so sordid—and so—so cruel, to you as well as to me.”
He longed to take her in his arms, but dared not, partly for fear of his own weakness, partly for fear she would repulse him.
“Darling—I’m not explaining well; it’s so difficult. And I know it’s sordid, but not so sordid as you think. It’s simply that I feel I must stand by my family now—and I don’t mean just my people, you know; I mean all the Alards ... all that ever were. I can’t let the place be sold up, as it will have to be if I don’t save it. Think of it ... and the first part to be sold would have to be Starvecrow, because it’s the only free, unmortgaged land we’ve got. Oh, Stella, think of selling Starvycrow!”
She took away her hands and looked at him through her streaming tears.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that—don’t reproach me. What I’m doing is only half selfish—the other half is unselfish, it’s sacrifice.”
“But, Peter, what does it matter if the land is sold? What good is the land doing you?—what good will it ever do you, if it comes to that? Why should we suffer for the land?”
“I thought you’d have understood that better.”
“I don’t understand at all.”
“Not that I must stand by my people?”
“I don’t understand why your people can’t be happy without owning all the land in three parishes.”
“Oh, my dear....”
He tried to take her hand, but this time she pulled it away.
“It’s no good, Peter. I understand your selfish reason better than your unselfish one. I fail to see why you should sacrifice me and yourself to your family and their land. I can see much better how you can’t bear the thought of losing Starvecrow. I know how you love it, because I love it too-but much as I love it, I never could sacrifice you to it, my dear, nor any human soul.”
“I know—I know. I’m a beast, Stella—but it’s like this ... human beings change—even you may change—but places are always the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I love you now—but how do I know ... Mary married for love.”
“What’s Mary got to do with it?”
“She’s shown me that one can never be sure, even with love.”
“You mean to say you’re not sure if you’d be happy with me?”
“Darling, I’m as sure as I can ever be with any human being. But one never can be quite sure, that’s the terrible thing. And oh, it would be so ghastly if you changed—or I changed—and I had left the unchanging place for you.”
Stella rose quietly to her feet.
“I understand now, Peter.”
For a moment she stood motionless and silent, her mouth set, her eyes shining out beyond him. He wondered if she was praying.
“Stella—don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you—I love you. But I quite understand that you don’t love me. Your last words have shown me that. And your not loving me explains it all. If you really loved me all these difficulties, all these ambitions would be like—like chaff. But you don’t love me, at least not much; and I don’t want you, if you only love me a little. I’m relieved in a way—I think you’d be doing a dreadful thing if you gave me up while you really loved me. But you don’t really love me, so you’re quite right to give me up and stand by your family and Starvecrow. Oh, I know you love me enough to have married me if everything had been easy....”
“Stella, don’t—It isn’t that I don’t love you; it’s only that I can’t feel sure of the future with you—I mean, there are so many things about you I can’t understand—your way of looking at life and things....”
“Oh, I know, my dear—don’t trouble to explain to me. And don’t think I’m angry, Peter—only sick—sick—sick. I don’t want to argue with you any more—it’s over. And I’ll make things as easy for you as I can, and for myself too. I’ll go away—I’ll have to. I couldn’t bear meeting you after this—or seeing Starvecrow....”
She went to the door, and he hoped she would go straight out, but on the threshold she suddenly turned——
“I’m not angry, Peter—I’m not angry. I was, but I’m not now ... I’m only miserable. But I’ll be all right ... if I go away. And some day we’ll be friends again....”
The door crashed behind her. She was gone.