I looked at the carpet, and there rose before me a vision of Rachel’s face when Will appeared unexpectedly on the scene; when she heard the tones of his voice in the distance; when she watched him out of sight after he had said “Good-bye.” In his actual presence she was quiet and precise, but at these moments her eyes would shine with a deep glow of happiness, her lips would tremble, and her cheeks turn suddenly from white to pink. Not love him—Rachel not love Will! Why, she adored him! He was more to her than anything and everybody in the world put together. She might be able to deceive him, but nothing could make me believe that she had broken off the engagement for her own happiness. She was thinking of someone else, not herself. Who was it? Ah, that was the question. Her mother, or Will, Will and perhaps—me! Was it possible that she had been conscious of what had happened on the afternoon of the motor accident, and that, in consideration of our feelings, she had kept her own counsel until a sufficient time had elapsed to enable her to end her engagement in a natural manner? Anyone who knew Rachel as I do would realise in a flash that it was just exactly what she would do in the circumstances. Then, if this were indeed the case, the nervous shock which prostrated her for so long was not physical, but mental. Oh, poor Rachel! Yet you could smile at me, and be sweet and gentle in the first moments of your agony! It was all I could do to keep back the tears as I thought of what she must have endured during these last three months; but through all my agitation one determination remained unshaken: I must not let Will see my suspicions; Rachel’s secret must be loyally guarded. He was talking incessantly—a quick, excited stream of words. I came back from my dreams to pick up a half-finished sentence—
“Too good to be true. She has filled so large a place in my life. I have such a strong admiration for her that it would have been a real pain to have parted coldly. But to keep her as my friend, to know that her affection is unchanged, and yet to be free to seek my own happiness is such a marvellous unravelling of the skein that I can hardly realise my good fortune. I came back last night, and could hardly wait until this morning to tell you my news. Una, you understand! I ask nothing of you to-day, it is not the time to speak of ourselves. I shall go back to my uncle, and stay with him for the next few months. He is very frail, and my place seems to be with him at present, but in the spring, if I come back in the spring, will you see me then? Will you let me tell you—”
I moved away from him hurriedly.
“No, no—don’t say it! Say nothing to-day, but just ‘Good-bye.’ I don’t want to think of the future—it’s too soon. You said we must not think of ourselves.”
“I did. You are quite right, but sometimes it is difficult to be consistent. You are not angry with me for coming to-day?”
He held out his hand as he spoke, and—I was inconsistent, too! I laid mine in it, and we stood with clasped fingers, quite still and silent for a long, long time, but I think we said many things to each other, all the same.
Then Will went away—my Will!—and I came upstairs to my room, and sat down all alone. No, that is not true—I can never fed alone now as long as I live!