“An answer, but I can’t write here!”
“He didn’t know you was meeting me. ‘Go up to the house,’ he said; ‘give it to her in her own hands. Ask if there is any answer.’”
“Tell him ... tell him I’ll write,” she said vaguely.
But as yet she had not read. What would he say, what comfort send her? For all her wired definiteness she wished he had come himself, had a moment’s disloyalty to him, thought he should have disregarded her wishes, rushed down, even if they had met only at the station. He need not have been so punctilious!
She could not let the man go back until she had read and answered Gabriel’s letter. She made him drive back with her to Carbies, seated on the box beside the driver. She held the precious package tight, but did not open it. For that she must be alone.
Stanton’s man was handed over to the household’s care for lunch or tea. He was to go back by the 5.5. “Mr. Gabriel” had given him his instructions.
Now she was at her writing-table and alone. The packet was sealed with sealing-wax. Inside there were all her own letters, and a closed envelope superscribed in the dear familiar handwriting. She tore it open. After she had read her lover’s letter she had no more reproaches for him, vague or otherwise.
My Own, my Beloved:—
Here are the letters. I could refuse you nothing, but to part from these has overwhelmed me, weakened me. I have turned coward. For it is all so unknown. I am in the dark, bewildered. Your wire was an awful shock. I am haunted with terror, the harder to bear because it came in the midst of all the sweet sacred thoughts and remembrances of a wonderful week-end, of the things you said or allowed me to say which filled me with high hopes, promise of joy and happiness I dared hardly dwell upon. I don’t know what has happened. I only know you must not be alone and have forbidden me to come to you. Rescind your decision, I implore you. As I think and think with restless brain and heart my great ache and anxiety are that you are in trouble and that I am away and useless, just when I would give my soul for the chance of standing by you and with you in any need and for always. By all the remembrance of our happy hours, by all the new and sweet happiness you have given me, by all I yearn for in the future give me this chance. Let me come to you. To think of you suffering alone is maddening. Trust me, give me your trust, solemnly I swear not to fail you whatever may happen. It is of you only I am thinking. I can be strong for you, wise for you, and should thank God, both in pride and humbleness, for the chance to serve you; to serve you with reverence and love. Send for me. Tell me—let me share all and always.
Devotedly yours,