"By Jove, is it really done! Aren't you dead beat? I say, Miss Sackville, don't do any more to-day. It's too bad of Lorna to work you like this. I shall interfere in my professional capacity."

He was far too much engrossed in Una Sackville to have any eyes for the paper.

Mrs Forbes thought, like the cook, that it was a pity that the pattern didn't go round; and the dear old doctor tip-toed up and down, jingled the money in his pockets, and said--

"Eh, what? Eh, what? Something quite novel, eh! Didn't go in for things of this sort in my young days. Very smart indeed, my dear, very smart! Now I suppose you will be wanting some new fixings," (his hand came slowly out of his waistcoat pocket, and my hopes ran mountains high). "Mustn't spoil the ship for a penn'orth of tar, you know.

There, that will help to buy a few odds and ends."

He put something into Lorna's hand; she looked at it, flushed red with delight, and hugged him rapturously round the neck. After he had gone she showed it to me with an air of triumph, and it was--half-a- sovereign! I expected several pounds, and had hard work not to show my disappointment, but I suppose ten shillings means as much to Lorna as ten pounds to me. Well, I am not at all sure that you don't get more fun out of planning and contriving to make a little money go a long way, than in simply going to a shop and ordering what you want. Lorna's worldly wealth amounted, with the half-sovereign, to seventeen and six- pence, and with this lordly sum for capital we set to work to transform the room.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

I have told all our experiences in papering the room together, because they seemed to come better that way; but, of course, lots of other things have been happening at the same time. One evening we went to a concert, and another time some friends came in after dinner, and we played games and had music. I sang a great deal, and everyone seemed to like listening, and my dress was the prettiest in the room, and all the men wanted to talk to me, and it was most agreeable.

On Sunday we went to an ugly town church, but the vicar had a fine, good face, and I liked his sermon. He seemed to believe in you, and expect you to do great things, and that is always inspiring. Some clergymen keep telling you how bad you are, and personally that puts my back up, and I begin to think I am not half so black as I am painted; but when this dear man took for granted that you were unselfish and diligent, and deeply in earnest about good things, I felt first ashamed, and then eager to try again, and fight the sins that do so terribly easily beset me. I sang the last hymn in a sort of fervour, and came out into the cool night air, positively longing for a battle in which I could win my spurs, and oh dear, dear, in ten minutes' time, before we were half-way home, I was flirting with Wallace, and talking of frivolous worldly subjects, as if I had never had a serious thought in my life!

It's so terribly hard to remember, and keep on remembering when one is young, but G.o.d must surely understand. I don't think He will be angry.

He knows that deep, deep down I want most of all to be good!

Wallace is nice and kind and clever, and I like him to like me, but I could never by any possibility like him--seriously, I mean! I can't tell why; it's just one of the mysterious things that comes by instinct when you grow up to be a woman. There is a great gulf thousands of miles wide between the man you just like and the man you could love; but sometimes the man you could love doesn't want you, and it is wrong even to think of him, and then it's a temptation to be extra nice to the other one, because his devotion soothes your wounded feelings.

I suppose Miss Bruce would call it love of admiration, and wish me to snub the poor fellow, and keep him at arm's length, but I don't see why I should. It would be conceited to take for granted that he was seriously in love, and I don't see why I shouldn't enjoy myself when I get a chance. It's only fun, of course, but I do enjoy playing off little experiments upon Wallace, to test my power over him, and then to watch the result! For example, at lunch-time I express a casual wish for a certain thing, and before four o'clock it is in my possession; or I show an interest in an entertainment, and tickets appear as if by magic. It is quite exciting. I feel as if I were playing a thrilling new game.

The room is almost furnished, and it looks sweet. One can hardly believe it is the same dreary little den that I saw on that first evening. We stole, (by kind permission), one or two chairs, a writing- table, and a dear little Indian cabinet from the overcrowded drawing- room, and with some help from Midas manufactured the most scrumptious cosy-corner out of old packing-cases and cushions covered with rose- coloured brocade. We put a deep frill of the same material, mounted on a thin bra.s.s rail, on the wall above the mantelpiece, and arranged Lorna's best ornaments and nick-nacks against this becoming background.

It did not seem quite appropriate to the garden idea to hang pictures on the walls, which is just as well, as she hasn't got any, but I bought her a tall green pedestal and flower-pot and a big branching palm as my contribution to the room, and as she says, "It gives the final touch of luxury to the whole." I could wish for a new fender and fire-irons, and a few decent rugs, but you can't have everything in this wicked world, and really, at night when the lamp-light sends a rosy glow through the newly-covered shade, (only muslin, but it looks like silk!) you could not wish to see a prettier room.

Lorna is awfully sweet about it. She said to me, "It was your idea, Una. I shall always feel that it was your gift, and every pleasant hour I spend here will be another link in the chain which binds us together.

This visit of yours will be memorable, in more ways than one!" and she looked at me in a meaning fashion which I hated. How more ways than one, pray? I hope to goodness she is not getting any foolish notions in her head. She might know me better by this time.

I don't know why it is, but I am always depressed after a letter from home. Mother reports that there is no improvement in Vere's health, and that her spirits are variable--sometimes low, sometimes quite bright and hopeful. Mr Dudley is very good in coming to see her, and his visits always cheer her up. He asked after me last time, hoped that I was enjoying myself and would not hurry back. I am not wanted there apparently, and here they all love having me, and implore me to stay on.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to, but I've decided that I will since that last letter arrived. I told Mrs Forbes this morning that I would stay a fortnight longer, and she kissed me and looked quite unreasonably relieved. I can't see how it matters much to her!

Such a curious thing happened that night, when Wallace and I were talking about books, and discussing the heroine in a novel which he had given me to read.

"Did she remind you of anyone?" he asked, and when I said "No," "Why, she is you to the life! Appearance, manner, character--everything. It might have been meant for a portrait," he declared. "I was reading it over last night, and the likeness is extraordinary."

I privately determined to read the book over again on the first opportunity to discover what I seemed like to other people. The heroine is supposed to be very pretty and charming, but personally I had thought her rather silly, so I did not know whether to feel complimented or not.

I determined to introduce the subject to Lorna, and see if she could throw any light upon it, and she did! More light than I appreciated!

"Oh, I liked Nan very well," she said, "but not nearly so much as Wallace did. He simply raved about her and declared that if he ever met a girl like that in real life he should fall desperately in love with her on the spot. She is his ideal of everything that a girl should be."

"Oh!" I said blankly. For a moment I felt inclined to tell Lorna everything, but something stopped me, and I am thankful that it did. It would be so horrid to feel she was watching all the time. For once in my life I was glad when she went away, and I was left alone to think.

"Desperately in love!" Can Wallace really be that, and with me? It makes me go hot and cold just to think of it, and my heart thumps with agitation. I don't feel happy exactly, but very excited and important.

I have such a lonely feeling sometimes, and I do so long for someone to love me best of all. At home, though they are all kind enough, I am always second fiddle, if not third, and it is nice to be appreciated! I could never care for Wallace in that way, but I like him to like me. It makes things interesting, and I was feeling very flat and dejected, and in need of something to cheer me up. Of course, I don't want to do anything wrong, but Wallace is so young, only twenty-four, and has no money, so he couldn't think of being married or anything silly like that; besides, I've heard it is good for boys to have a fancy for a nice girl--it keeps them steady.

In any case, I have promised to stay on for another fortnight, and I couldn't alter my mind and go away now without making a fuss, and if I stay I can't be disagreeable, so I must just behave as if Lorna had never repeated that stupid remark. I dare say, if the truth were known, Wallace has fancied himself in love with half-a-dozen girls before now, and it would be ridiculous of me to imagine anything serious. Anyway, I don't care. I have thought of nothing but other people for months back, and they don't seem to miss me a bit, but only hope I won't hurry back.

I'm tired of it. Now I am going to enjoy myself, and I don't care what happens!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

It is ten days since I wrote anything in this diary, and to-night, when I opened it in my misery, hoping to find some comfort in writing down my thoughts, the first thing that met my eyes were those dreadful words, "I am going to enjoy myself, and I don't care what happens." Enjoy myself, indeed! I have never been so miserable in my life. I never knew before what misery meant, even on that awful night of the fire, when we didn't know whether Vere would live or die. Troubles with which one has nothing to do, which come, as it were, straight from G.o.d, can never make one feel like this. There is no remorse in them, and no guilt, and no burning, intolerable shame.

What would Miss Bruce think of her pupil now? What would father think?

What would Rachel--"the best woman in the world"--think of me to-night?

I am going to make myself write it all down, and then, if I ever try to gloss it over to myself or others in the future, this written account will be here to give me the lie. Here it is, then, bold and plain--

"I have broken a man's heart for the sake of a little fun and excitement for myself, and as a sop to my wounded vanity!"

It makes me shiver to read the words, for I did not realise the full meanness of what I was doing until the end came, and I woke with a shock to see myself as I really am. All these last ten days I have been acting a part to myself as well as to others, pretending to be unconscious of danger, but I knew--oh, I knew perfectly well! I think a girl must always know when a man loves her. I knew it by the tone of Wallace's voice, by the light in his eyes, by the change which came over his looks and manner the moment I appeared. It was like a game, a horrible new game which fascinated me against my will, and I could not bear to end it. Every night when I said my prayers I determined to turn over a new leaf next day, but when the next day came I put on my prettiest clothes and did my hair the way he liked it best, and sang his favourite songs, and was all smiles and sweetness. Oh, what a Pharisee I am! In this very book I have denounced Vere for her flirtations and greed of admiration, and then I have succ.u.mbed to the very first temptation, without so much as a struggle. I shall never, never be able to hold up my head again. I feel too contemptible to live.

Last night things came to a crisis. Wallace and Lorna and I went to a party given by some intimate family friends. Wallace had asked me in the morning what colour I was going to wear, and just before dinner he came into the drawing-room and presented me with a spray of the most lovely pink roses. I think he expected to find me alone, but the whole family was a.s.sembled, and it was most embarra.s.sing to see how seriously they took it. At home we have loads of flowers in the conservatories, but sometimes one of Vere's admirers sends her a lot of early violets, or lilies of the valley, great huge boxes which must cost a small fortune, but no one thinks anything of it, or pays any attention beyond a casual remark. Here, however, it was different.

"Roses!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Lorna, in a tone of awe-stricken astonishment.

Midas whistled softly, and Mrs Forbes looked first at Wallace and then at me--in a wistful, anxious kind of way, which made me feel inclined to run home on the spot. I determined to make some excuse and depart suddenly some day soon, while Wallace was out on his rounds, but it was too late. I was not allowed to escape so easily as that.

During the evening Wallace took me into the conservatory to see the flowers, and it was not my fault that everyone went out and left us alone. I tried to be cold and chilling, but that only made him anxious to discover what was wrong.

"It is my fault! I know quite well it is my fault," he cried, bending over me, his face so drawn and puckered with anxiety that he looked quite old. "I am a stupid, blundering fellow, and you have been an angel to be so sweet and forbearing. I am not fit to come near you, but I would rather cut off my right hand than hurt you in any way. You know that, don't you, Una?"

He had never called me Una before, and he looked so different from the calm, complacent youth I had known a few weeks before--so much older and more formidable, that it was difficult to believe it could be the same person. I was frightened, but tried hard to appear cool and self- possessed.

"I am not vexed at all. On the contrary, I am enjoying myself very much. The flowers are lovely. I always--"

It was no use. He seized my hand, and cried pleadingly--

"Don't put me off, Una; don't trifle with me. It's too serious for that. You are cold to me to-night, and it has come to this, that I cannot live when you are not kind. What has changed you since this afternoon? Were you vexed with me for bringing you those roses?"

"Not in the least, so far as I am concerned; but your people seemed astonished. It made me feel a little awkward."

He looked at once relieved and puzzled. "But they know!" he cried.

"They know quite well. They would not be astonished at my giving you anything. Has Lorna never told you that she knows?"

"I really fail to understand what there is to know," I said, sitting up very straight and stiff, looking as haughty and unapproachable as I possibly could. It was coming very close. I knew it, though I never had the experience before, and I would have given anything in the world to escape. Oh, how can girls like to have proposals from men whom they don't mean to accept? How can they bring themselves to boast of them as if they were a triumph and a pride? I never felt so humiliated in my life as I did when I sat there and listened to Wallace's wild words.

"What is there to know? Only that I love you with all my heart and strength--that I have loved you ever since the moment I first saw your sweet face. You did not seem like a stranger, for I had been waiting for you all my life. Oh, Una, these few weeks have been like a dream of happiness. I never knew what it was to live before. You are so--"

I haven't the heart to repeat all the praises the poor fellow lavished upon me while I sat listening in an agony of shame, feeling more and more miserable every moment, as I realised that, in spite of his agitation, he was by no means despondent as to the result of his wooing.

He seemed more anxious to a.s.sure me of his devotion than to question me about mine, as if he imagined that my coldness was caused by pique or jealousy. I drew away my hands, and tried to stop him by vague murmurs of dissent, but it was no use, he only became more eager and determined.

"We all love you, Una. My mother thinks you the most charming girl she has ever met. She was speaking of you to me only last night; she feels naturally a little sad, poor mother! to know that she is no longer the first consideration to her boy, but she quite understands. And the pater, too--he is in love with you himself. Who could help it, darling?"