Cornelia was sad at heart that day, and Elma was sad, too; opening wide, startled eyes, and clasping her friend in jealous arms.
“Cornelia, it isn’t true! It can’t be true! I can’t spare you, dear. Is it really impossible to stay on a little longer? Geoffrey and I counted on you for our wedding. It is fixed for October, and I wanted you for a bridesmaid. I wanted you to pay me a visit in my own house! You have been such a friend to us both, that we need you, Cornelia! I shall miss you badly!”
“Shucks!” returned Cornelia, lightly. “You’ll forget there is such a creature in existence. I should, in your place, and I don’t mind if you do, for I know you’ll remember again another day. This is Geoffrey’s hour, and I won’t interfere. If I live, I’ll pay you that visit right enough, and maybe you’ll come over to see me. I’d give you a roaring time. Tell Geoffrey he is bound to bring you over to see America. I’ll think about you on your marriage-day, but I don’t know as I’m sorry to do the thinking at a distance. Wedding-days aren’t the liveliest occasions in the world for the looker-on. I guess I’d feel pretty ‘left,’ when you drove off from the gates, and I found myself all by my lonesome with the two old girls. ... I’ve wired to Liverpool about berths, and may have to start off at a day’s notice, so we’ve got to make the most of the time. Aunt Soph don’t care! She’s polite, of course, but right at the back of her mind I can see she’s planning to clean out my room, and thinking how good it will be to have the mats laid aside, and the shroudings over the tables! If it wasn’t for you, Moss Rose, I should feel I’d done a fool-trick coming over at all! When all’s said and done it amounts to nothing but disappointment and heart-break.”
“You mean,” began Elma, “you mean—” and then suddenly paused. Why should Cornelia’s heart break? Disappointment and disillusion would be natural enough in one who had experienced both coldness and deception within the last few weeks, but heart-break was too strong a term. To Elma, with her mind full to overflowing of that beloved Geoffrey, it seemed as if nothing but love could count so seriously in life. Her thoughts flew to Guest, recalling all she had heard of his knight-errantry in London; of the long hours which the two had spent alone together; and later on, of the daily meetings in the Park, planned for her own benefit, but none the less opportunities for fuller knowledge. She fixed her blue eyes on Cornelia’s face, and asked a sudden question—
“Does Captain Guest know that you are going?”
“How should he?” returned Cornelia, lightly. Eyes and lips were unflinching, but all the will in the world could not keep the blood from her cheeks. “He’s visiting somewhere at the other end of the country, with old friends who belong to his own world, and feel the same way about the same things. Let him stay and be happy! I don’t want him to come worrying down here for the fun of saying good-bye. Guess he’s had trouble enough about my affairs. Mind now, Elma, you are not to tell him! This is my affair, and I won’t have you interfere.”
Elma meekly disavowed any intention of communicating with Captain Guest, but like many other meek people she harboured a quiet reservation which annulled the promise. She would not write, but—Geoffrey could! Geoffrey should! That flame in Cornelia’s cheek satisfied her that the girl’s interest was deeper than she would admit, and if Guest returned the feeling, what joy, what rapture to have Cornelia settled in England; to look forward to a life of constant intercourse! Cornelia had helped her; according to her lights Elma was determined to help Cornelia also.
With disconcerting swiftness a return telegram arrived from Liverpool stating that owing to illness a passenger had been suddenly obliged to resign a state-room on the boat sailing on the following Saturday, and that the accommodation would be reserved pending Miss Briskett’s confirmation. An immediate reply was requested.
Cornelia gasped and hesitated. Four days! Only four days, and then farewell to England and English friends. She had not expected anything so speedy as this. During these summer months berths were engaged so long ahead that it was generally a most difficult thing to arrange for a speedy passage. She had been told of this over and over again; had known of her friends’ difficulties in such matters; in the background of her mind had counted on a similar delay in her own case. In a week or a fortnight much might happen, but in four days! She stood battling with temptation, while Mary watched her with anxious eyes. No one but herself knew the purport of the message; no one need know if the answer were a refusal. Two or three scribbled words would give her a reprieve. ... Poor Cornelia! She realised afresh how easy it was to be brave in anticipation, how bitterly hard in actual fact. She was silent so long that Mary summoned up courage to ask a question—
“Is it bad news, miss?”