The doctor was still away on his afternoon round, but Janet, who had returned, and the others were seated under the cedar having tea. It was a hurried, agitated, unhappy little meal: Ethel obviously nervous and on edge; Margaret, anxious to finish and buttonhole my Janet, hardly ate anything at all; Janet absorbed and I fancied a little worried; Kenneth morose, with Ralph, as usual, a sort of sympathetic shadow, myself thinking, thinking, thinking, of Margaret’s latest find and Miss Summerson’s odd behavior. And all the time as we sat under the cedar’s shade with the sunsplashed lawn before us and the rooks cawing dreamily overhead, we each had an ear alert and listening for the front door-bell, and Allport, and the breaking of the storm. No wonder that we finished rather quickly and that Annie, for once, had overestimated our requirements in the matter of bread and butter.
The two boys went off to the garage to make Ralph’s beloved and expensive car ready for the anticipated journey back to Sheffield as soon as Allport should arrive and release them from their parole. Ethel went indoors to aid the overworked Annie, and I think to escape from the rest of us. I saw Margaret turn and whisper to Janet as soon as Ethel had gone. They were seated next to each other, Janet next to me, Margaret in the chair beyond, and it just happened that I was looking at Janet’s hand as it rested on the arm of her wicker-chair when Margaret began to whisper. I was thinking how characteristic those hands of hers were—rather large for a woman—strong and gentle at once with fingers that tapered away like a dream; hands that were both manly and womanly at once. And then to my astonishment I noticed that the wicker of the chair-arm was bending beneath her grip.
She rose to her feet as I glanced at her in surprise—surprise which increased, when I felt her tap my foot with hers as she said, “I don’t suppose that I shall be gone for more than five minutes, Mr. Jeffcock—about five minutes, Mr. Jeffcock.” For all the world as though we had had some definite arrangement together and she were making some excuse. But she took Margaret by the arm and walked away before I could question her about it.
They went into the house together.
Chapter XV.
A Close Call
And now I come to the one part of my story that it gives me real pleasure to write, and that is the full admission of my precipitate and headlong falling in love with Janet, and how in a single day my liking for her broadened out and deepened into adoration. She had arrived at Dalehouse on Thursday morning and by midday on Friday I knew that if I failed to hold and keep her I should have missed the one important sign-post on the highway of my life.
True, I had already passed by this lane end and that, and, carelessly forgetting to examine the signs, I may have wandered down one here and there for an aimless mile or so, until, puzzled and disappointed, I retraced my steps. And other crossroads and branch roads doubtless lay ahead, some of them broad and safe and running in my direction. But this great road ahead of me here to the right, how clear it ran straight to the hilltops and the rising sun. What a road to tread with a friend at your side! What a clean straight climb to make with Janet!
What was it that Margaret had said? That a pretty face, a shapely figure, and love, were one and the same to men? A lie! What a damnable lie! Was that really then an accepted valuation? I thought of some of the married couples I knew. Could they ever have been in love? Could this bright clear light so soon die down to a guttering smoky flame? Or had they missed their way and turned down some by-road before their proper time?
And that other reason for marriage written down so inappropriately in the prayer-book service—an attribute of married love perhaps—but surely nothing to do with spiritual love and the plighting of troth in the church before God? What had such animal stuff to do with this hallowed uplifting ecstasy that filled my soul when Janet’s wide gray eyes met mine?
A sentimental fool do you call me for writing thus? Then if already married, you, my friend, have married a friend, or a mistress, or perhaps fortune has smiled on you and the mistress you have married is also your friend, but friend, or mistress, or both, you know nothing whatever of love.