The Three Fates

by F. Marion Crawford

It was certainly very strange, George thought, that she should be able to assume such an expression and such a tone of voice at a moment’s notice, if there were no real love in her heart. But it was impossible to quarrel with the way she had done it. There had been something so supremely graceful in her attitude, something so winning in her smile, something in her accent which so touched the heart, that the incident remained fixed in his memory as a wonderful picture, never to be forgotten. It affected his artistic sense so strongly that before he went to bed he took his pen and wrote it down, taking a keen pleasure in putting into shape the details of the scene, and especially in describing what escaped description, the mysterious fascination of the girl herself. He read it over in bed, was satisfied with it, thrust it under his pillow, and went to sleep to dream it over again just as it had happened, with one important exception. In his dream, the figure, the voice, the words, were all Mamie’s, but the face was that of Constance Fearing, though it wore a look which he had never seen there. In the morning he laughed over the whole affair, being only too ready to believe that Mamie had really been laughing at him and that she had only been acting the little scene with the rose in the garden.

A few days later an event occurred which again made him doubtful in the matter. Since that evening he had felt that he had grown more intimate with his cousin than before. There had been no renewal of the dangerous play on her part, though both had referred to it more than once. Oddly enough it constituted a sort of harmless secret, which had to be kept from Mamie’s mother and over which they could be merry only when they were alone. Yet, as far as George was concerned, though the bond had grown closer in those days, its nature had not changed, nor was he any nearer to being persuaded that his cousin was actually in love with him.

At that time, John Bond and his wife, having made a very short trip to Canada, returned to New York and came thence to establish themselves in the old Fearing house for the rest of the summer. John could not leave the business for more than ten days in the absence of his partner, and he did as so many other men do, who spend the hot months on the river, going to town in the morning and coming back in the evening. On Sundays only John Bond did not make his daily trip to New York.

Since his marriage, he and Grace had not been over to see the Trimms, though Mrs. Trimm had once been over to them on a week-day in obedience to the custom which prescribes that every one must call on a bride. There had been much suave coldness between Totty and the Fearings since the report of the broken engagement had been circulated, but appearances were nevertheless maintained, and Mr. and Mrs. Bond felt that it was their duty to return the visit as soon as possible. Constance accompanied them and the three sailed across the river late on one Sunday afternoon. The river is a great barrier against news, and as Totty had kept her house empty of guests, for some reason best known to herself, and had written to none of her many intimate friends that George Wood was spending the summer with her, the three visitors had no expectation of finding him among the party.

During the time which had followed her departure from town, Constance Fearing had fallen into a listless habit of mind, from which she had found it hard to rouse herself even so far as to help in the preparations for her sister’s marriage. When the ceremony was over, she had withdrawn again to her country-house in the sole company of the elderly female relation who has been mentioned already once or twice in the course of this history.

She was extremely unhappy in her own way, and there were moments when the pain she had suffered renewed itself suddenly, when she wept bitter tears over the sacrifice she had been so determined to make. After one of these crises she was usually more listless and indifferent than ever, to all outward appearance, though in reality her mind was continually preying upon itself, going over the past again and again, living through the last moments of happiness she had known, and facing in imagination the struggle she had imposed upon herself. She did not grow suddenly thin, nor fall ill, nor go mad, as women do who have passed through some desperate trial of the heart. She possessed, indeed, the sort of constitution which sometimes breaks down under a violent strain from without, but she had not been exposed to anything which could bring about so fatal a result. It was rather the regret for a lost interest in her life than the keen agony of separation from one she had loved, which affected her spirits and reacted very slowly upon her health. At certain moments the sense of loneliness made itself felt more strongly than at others, and she gave way to tears and lamentation, in the privacy of her own room, without knowing exactly what she wanted. She still believed that she had done right in sending George away, but she missed what he had taken with him, the daily incense offered at her shrine, the small daily emotions she had felt when with him, and which her sensitive temper had liked for their very smallness. There was no doubt that she had loved him a little, as she had said, for she had always been ready to acknowledge everything she felt. But it was questionable whether her love had increased or decreased since she had parted from him, and her fits of spasmodic grief were probably not to be attributed to genuine love-sickness.

On that particular Sunday afternoon chosen by the Bonds for their visit to Mrs. Sherrington Trimm, Constance was as thoroughly indifferent as usual to everything that went on. She was willing to join her sister and brother-in-law in their expedition rather than stay at home and do nothing, but her mind was disturbed by no presentiment of any meeting with George Wood.

It was towards evening, and the air was already cool by comparison with the heat of the day. Mrs. Trimm, her daughter and George were all three seated in a verandah from which they overlooked the river and could see their own neat landing-pier beyond the flower-garden. The weather had been hot and none of the three were much inclined for conversation. Suddenly Totty uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“Those people are coming here! Who are they, George? Can you see?”

George fixed his eyes on the landing and saw that the sail-boat had brought to. At the same moment the sails were quickly furled and a man threw a rope over one of the wooden pillars. A few seconds elapsed and three figures were seen upon the garden-walk.