Brackenbury was a fool not to send her right away, as I recommended. Nothing is decided; I sometimes wonder whether anything ever will be decided. We are precisely where we stood before...
I had time to warn Will, I am thankful to say. A girl who shilly-shallies like that... I shall make the best of it, if I have to; but I am not sure she is the sort of wife for my boy...
VIII
LADY ANN SPENWORTH REFERS TO HER DIARY
Lady Ann (to a friend of proved discretion): It is only a question of habit. When I first went to Italy, at the age of sixteen, my dear mother insisted that I should keep a diary, and I have kept one ever since. Goodness me, I am more likely to overlook my letters or the morning paper than forget to write up my journal. Sometimes it is only a few lines, for the spacious days are over, I am a dull old woman, and the most I ask of life is that I may be allowed to live. Very often I let months go by without turning back to see what I have written; but the record is there if I ever want to consult it. Usually at the end of the year one likes to take stock...
Not that it is very cheerful reading, alas! But at our age we must expect that. Another year gone, when perhaps we cannot hope to see so very many more; another hope dashed and yet another deferred, making the heart sick; gaps in the circle of those one loves; increasing frailty or ill-health; and that indefinable, inexplicable narrowing of outlook, interest, enthusiasm—and with us, I am afraid, of worldly circumstance. Inevitable... For oneself, perhaps, one does not mind it, but it is sometimes heart-rending to see the boys and girls setting out with those high hopes that we have been compelled, one by one, to discard; heart-rending, too, when those who seemed to walk with their heads on a level with the stars trip and sprawl like the rest...
No, I assure you I was not thinking of any one in particular. The feeling returns with the season and is quite general. One could find particular applications, no doubt, very near at hand. Begin where you will: my brother-in-law Spenworth... I wonder what we shall be thinking of him in a year's time; divorced, remarried—and nobody one penny the worse! I am not ashamed to confess that, when the word "divorce" is mentioned, I am translated to another sphere... Groping blindly among things I don't understand and don't want to understand... Say what you will, we were not so lax a generation ago; those who fell remained where they fell ... or climbed back with effort, difficulty and an acknowledgement of wrong-doing. Not as of right... The new Lady Spenworth I hardly know; she who marries a man that has been put away... I have not refused to meet her, but the opportunity has not come my way. Whether she will be able to hold him... Perhaps if she presents him with an heir ... though I have had to change my views on that subject, as you know. Oh, I can speak about it now; and I shall never forget, when things were at their blackest, it was you who came to me with your divine sympathy. I could tell you the whole story if you truly honestly would not be bored; your discretion has been proved... I have lost the thread...
Ah, yes!—the family... My nephew Culroyd—and Hilda? I am humbly thankful to say that there has been no catastrophe so far, though when the first, honeymoon intoxication wears off... Long may it be delayed, for they are the one bright spot in my poor brother Brackenbury's life. That pathetic child Phyllida is still breaking her heart over the cabman-colonel whom I, if you please, am supposed to have set against her in order to keep her for my boy. Thank goodness, she does not know he is driving a cab! Breaking her heart or pretending to. And I really think my brother encourages her. He wouldn't send her right away as I advised; and now he pats her hand and looks worried when she comes down boasting that she hasn't slept. And Ruth does the same... I don't want to bring bad luck by talking about it; but I sometimes wonder how much longer Brackenbury will put up with that—invertebrate woman; I sometimes fear that the record of the year will shew that there, too, the blow has fallen. We have seen to our cost that the most devoted husband and father may sometimes go apparently quite mad... I feel that Phyllida, with her youth and her looks and her money, is being so shamefully wasted...
But, until she shakes off her obsession, I should pity any man who tried to marry her. At one time my boy Will seemed attracted to her out of compassion for her loneliness and misery. Those were anxious days, I can assure you, though I should have been glad to see Will safely married to almost any one. He is undoubtedly of an age; and what I called "the Morecambe menace"... We have heard nothing of the Phentons (you know, I always called her Miss Molly "Wanton") since the father conducted his blackmailing descent upon us, protesting that Will had made this girl an offer of marriage, talking about horse-whips. I hope and pray that it is all over, but one can never be certain. For the last fortnight I have succeeded in not thinking about them; I suppose I should be grateful to Arthur for turning my thoughts...
You are quite right! I have tried to avoid speaking bitterly to him, I must not speak bitterly about him. But, when the news came to me, I said: "Now indeed the bottom has fallen out of the world." It was towards the end of the year, and I had been turning the pages of my journal. Catastrophe, disappointment, anxiety... But, whatever storms may blow, I said, I can always trust my husband. Arthur was my rock and anchor. He and I seemed to stand erect, with our heads level with the stars, while these others, one after another, tripped and sprawled. And then Arthur too...