“You know,” she began, “that we went to live at Pangbourne. A year after we went there I met Philippe. He was staying with some friends near us. We saw a good bit of each other one way and another, and—and we began to care....
“My mother must have guessed it, for she suddenly began to prevent my seeing him. But one day he came straight to my father and said he loved me.... My father was furious. He said he would never hear of his daughter marrying a vagabond artist, a man who spent half his life on the roads like any tramp, and the other half in a studio messing with common clay. You know my father never did like art, and he looked on all artists with contempt. He never believed that they were gentlemen. You know, he never believed that anyone who did anything for their livelihood was one. And he couldn’t conceive it possible that the love of the work and not money was Philippe’s motive in his art. At any rate, he sent Philippe away. I was quite miserable, but hadn’t the courage to gainsay him, and my mother was quite as bad....
“Six months later I was staying with some friends in Hampshire for a fortnight. I was to go on from there to another friend—Cecily Mainwaring—for a month. Cecily lives in London. One day while I was in Hampshire I was out for a walk alone, when I met Philippe....
“Oh, it’s no use my trying to tell you how glad I was to see him. When he knew I was staying at Andover he remained in the neighbourhood, and we used to meet almost daily. I’d always gone for long walks alone. We used to spend hours together in Harewood Forest, and he used to make all kinds of plans. First he wanted me to defy my parents and run away with him and marry him. But I hadn’t the courage. I said that perhaps in time they’d consent. Then he thought of another plan and begged me to consent to it. We were to be married and keep it a secret from my people. I was to spend a month with him in some little country place instead of staying with Cecily. Then I was to go home, and he was to come down and use all his influence with my parents, and if it failed we would have to tell them. He begged me so that at last I consented. At the back of my mind I thought that if my parents were still obdurate I could persuade Philippe not to tell them. At least I’d have a month with him. I wasn’t nineteen, and I never though of what—what might happen....” She stopped, her face crimson.
“Yes, dear?” said Miss Mason gently.
“Philippe went away then to make arrangements, and I stayed on three days longer with my friends. I left them ostensibly to go to Cecily. I met Philippe instead.... We were married at a tiny church. He had got a special license. He didn’t like it not being his own church, but as I was a Catholic it would have been difficult to arrange that. At all events, the marriage was legal, and he thought that perhaps we’d be married again in his own church when my parents knew. But of course that didn‘t trouble me. We went to Wales together, to a little village there. Any letters that might be written to me went to Cecily. I wrote to her and told her I was on a motor tour with friends and my visit to her must be postponed; that I wasn’t sure when I could come home to her. And I asked her to keep any letters for me till I came. Cecily was quite unsuspecting, and did so.
“I was gloriously happy with Philippe. Occasionally I was frightened at what I had done, but when he was with me I only thought about him and my happiness. One day he went into Shrewsbury by train.... I was going with him, but I had such a bad headache that at the last moment I persuaded him to go alone. He was to have come back at seven o’clock in the evening.... He didn’t come, and I got uneasy. I went down towards the station.... Then I heard there had been a frightful railway accident only three miles outside the station.... I went to the place.... I don’t know how I got there. Ever so many people were going.... They carried the people from the train to cottages and barns.... I found Philippe in one of them....” Sybil’s voice shook and she stopped.
“We know, dear,” said Miss Mason. “Don’t try to tell us.”
There was a little silence. At last Sybil went on:
“When I saw that he was dead I suddenly realized what I had done. I knew there was no one to stand between me and my parents’ anger.... And then men came who began to ask questions of the people present ... wanting them to identify....” Again Sybil stopped.