‘And meanwhile, the best thing will be for Salvatia to stay quietly here with me.’
‘Far and away the best, Mother,’ said Jocelyn, whose thoughts had gone off with renewed eagerness to his work, to the two spacious months of undisturbed labour ahead of him in those quiet rooms of his in Austen’s Court.
What was Sally’s surprise to find that Jocelyn’s return made no difference to the lessons. They went on just the same; indeed, they seemed every day to get worse, and he, except at meals and when he crept into her room at night, stayed at the top of the house shut up by himself, or went out for his daily walk after lunch and didn’t take her with him.
At night she tried to ask him about these things, because this was the time he was most likely to answer, but he only whispered, ‘Hush—Mother will hear.’
‘Not if you whispers,’ whispered Sally.
‘She’d hear the whispers,’ whispered Jocelyn.
Why Mother shouldn’t hear whispers Sally was unable to make out.
And there at night was Usband, all for being friendly and loving, and in the day didn’t seem to know she was alive. Warmed up a bit, he did, towards evening, but else sat hardly opening his mouth, his eyes looking at something that wasn’t there. Was this, Sally might well in her turn have asked if she had been able to formulate such a question, companionship? But even if she had formulated it she wouldn’t have asked it, because she was so meek.
Strange, however, how the meek go on being meek till the very moment when they do something from which bold persons would shrink. This is what Sally did, after having progressed that week steadily towards despair.
Gradually but steadily, by piecing together bit by bit the things Mrs. Luke and Jocelyn said to each other at meals and in the evening, she became aware of what was in store for her. First, a party; an enormous party, at which everybody who wasn’t a gentleman was going to be a lady; and she was to be at it too, and it was for this that her mind and manners were being fattened up so ceaselessly by Mrs. Luke. Then, two days after the party, Jocelyn, her husband who had promised in church to cherish her, was going away to Cambridge, and going to stay there by himself till the summer, just as if he weren’t married. How could he cherish her from Cambridge? It was evident even to Sally that it couldn’t be done. Finally, she was to be left at Almond Tree Cottage alone with Mrs. Luke, being educated, being made fit, being fattened inside just as you fatten animals outside. What for? She hadn’t married Mrs. Luke. Wasn’t she able, just as she was, to be a good wife to Usband, and a good mother later on to the little babies? What more could a girl do than be ready to work her fingers to the bone for him? And she could cook so nicely, give her a chance; and she could mend as well as any one; and as for keeping the house clean, hadn’t her mother taught her never to dream of sitting down and taking up her sewing while there was so much as a single speck of dirt about?