I took her to Vere’s room, and was going to leave them alone, but Vere called me back, and made me stay. She said afterwards that she wanted me to hear what was said, so that I could remind her of anything which she forgot. There was only half an hour before tea, so Vere lost no time in stupid trivialities.
“I sent for you to come to see me, Rachel, because I wanted particularly to ask you a question. I have been ill nearly a year now, and I get no better. I am beginning to fear I shall never get better, but have to be like this all my life. I have lain here with that thought to keep me company until I can bear it no longer. I feel sometimes as if I am going out of my senses. I must find something to help me, or it may really come to that in the end. I keep up pretty well during the day, for I hate being pitied, and that keeps me from breaking down in public; but the nights—the long, long endless nights! Nobody knows what I endure in the nights! You are so good—everyone says you are so good—tell me how to bear it and not mind! Tell me what I am to do to grow patient and resigned!”
“Dear Vere, I have never been tried as you are. I have had only one or two short illnesses in my life—I have never known the weariness and disappointment—”
“No, but you have other trials. You have so much to bear, and it is so dull and wretched for you all the time,” interrupted Vere quickly, too much engrossed in her own affairs to realise that it was not the most polite thing in the world to denounce another girl’s surroundings. As for Rachel, she opened her eyes in purest amazement that anyone should imagine she needed pity.
“I? Oh, you are mistaken—quite, quite mistaken. I have the most happy home. Everyone is good and kind to me; I have no troubles, except seeing dear father’s sufferings; and so many blessings—so much to be thankful for!”
“You mean your engagement? Mr Dudley is charming, and I am sure you are fond of him, but you can’t be married while your father lives, and—and—one never knows what may happen. Suppose—changes came—”
Vere stopped short in the middle of her sentence, and, by a curious impulse, Rachel turned suddenly and looked at me. Our eyes met, and the expression in hers—the piteous, shrinking look—made me rush hotly into the breach.
“You are talking nonsense, Vere! You don’t know Mr Dudley as Rachel does. You don’t understand his character.”
“No,” said Rachel proudly, “you don’t understand. It is quite possible that we may never marry—many things might happen to prevent that, but Will would never do anything that was mean and unworthy. The changes, whatever they were, could not affect my love for him, and it is that that makes my happiness—”
“Loving him! Not his loving you! Rachel, are you sure?”