When I returned to London, Hilda was in bed. An internal chill... She wouldn't see a doctor, she said, as a few days' rest and warmth were all that she needed. I was not sorry to have a few days' rest too. First Will and then Culroyd... I found my little visitor a greater strain than I had anticipated... My "rest" was "nothing to write home about", as Will used to say, for I found myself required to cope with a lioness which had been robbed of its cub—Culroyd, I mean. He came as usual expecting to see Hilda—and pretending he only wanted to see his poor old aunt! And left the moment he had swallowed his coffee! It's a good thing I'm not vain, isn't it? Next day he came again... At first it was habit, I think; he had got into the way of meeting this child every day. Then it became more serious. If we are going to bless this union, I think we must also bless Hilda's influenza. (It developed into that. And a nice time I had! Responsible to her mother—and day after day the girl refused to see a doctor.) These boys and girls go about together so freely that there is little inducement to bring things to a head, as it were. Goodness me, when I first met Arthur, he would have liked to go about with me everywhere, but my dear mother put her foot down very firmly on that. And, when he found that it was almost impossible for us to meet, Arthur suddenly discovered that I meant more to him than he had suspected... So with Culroyd; history repeating itself, so to say... Hilda was a habit; and, when the habit was broken by influenza, she developed into a need. Culroyd had never taken much trouble before, but now he called every afternoon with flowers and wrote to her morning and evening. She was quite bewildered. A very simple child...
When she was well enough to sit up on a sofa, Culroyd fumed with impatience to see her. He insisted on coming upstairs with me, though I told him I wasn't at all sure... And so it proved: Hilda said she really wasn't equal to meeting any one. The next day she was rather stronger, and I prevailed on her just to let him bring the flowers into her room.
"Aunt Ann, will you leave us alone for one moment?," he asked.
"Really, Culroyd," I said....
Oh, I know it's done, but I was brought up in a different school. All this popping in and out of young people's bedrooms...
"Please! I beg you!," he said.
And then, before I knew where I was, he had kissed me on both cheeks, tapped at the door and disappeared... I went to see about some vases for the flowers; and, when I came back, he was on his knees by the bed and Hilda was stroking his head. My old heart warmed... I am not ashamed to confess it. A radiance that you see before young people have time to become hard, worldly...
They announced it next day to Brackenbury, though I am sure Hilda was imprudent to travel. Though I could not fairly be saddled with any responsibility, I was a little nervous to see how he would take it; every family has its scapegoat, and at the Hall they have so long found it convenient to dignify me with that position...
"Were you surprised?," I asked.
"Well, yes," Brackenbury admitted. "It was commonly reported that you were keeping Hilda up your sleeve for Will. People told me that it was impossible to walk into a restaurant or theatre without meeting them. You won't deny that you did rather throw them at each other's heads?"