England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Spiritualism -- Fiction
Archie took her hand again. The touch of those soft, cool fingers gave
him pleasure; so, too, did the answering pressure of them.
"Yes, indeed," he said. "And you must remember, too, that it's better to
have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
She repeated the quotation in a dreamy meditative voice.
"Yes, that is so true: it does me good to think of that," she said. "And
I mustn't think of him as dead really. He is just as living as ever he
was. He was so fond of you too. We often spoke of you. And his quaint,
quiet humour!..."
That was the general note of the first act: it had been short, for the
conversation suitable to it was necessarily limited. The second showed a
great advance in scope and variety of topics. Also the _tempo_ was quite
changed: instead of its being _largo_, it was at least _andante con
moto_.
This time, after again keeping him waiting, she had entered with a
smile.
"What a comfort you are, Archie!" she said. "I have been looking forward
to seeing you again. Somehow you understand me, which nobody else does.
I feel all the time that neither darling Jessie, whenever I see her,
which isn't often, for she is so busy, nor daddy quite understand me. I
mean to be brave, and not lose courage, not lose gaiety even, and I
think--I think that they both misjudge me. They expect me to be utterly
broken. So I was at first, as you know so well, but I tried to take to
heart what you said, and force myself not to despair. I feel I oughtn't
to do that: I must take the burden of life up again with a smile."
Her hand lay open on her knee; as she said this, she turned it over
towards him, making an invitation that seemed unconscious. He slipped
his long brown fingers into that rosy palm. She was astonishingly like a
girl he met a night or two ago.
"I must get over this awful feeling of loneliness," she said, "and you
are helping me so deliciously to do so. Daddy is busy all day; I
scarcely see him. Jessie is busy also. I think she enjoys washing up
knives and forks and plates for soldiers, though of course that doesn't
make it any less sweet of her to do it. But, anyhow, she hasn't got much
time for me. I wish--no, I suppose it's wrong to wish that."
"Well, confess, then," said Archie, smiling at her.
"Yes, dear father-confessor, though I ought to say boy-confessor, for
you look so young! Well, I'll confess to you. I--I'm sure you won't be
shocked with me. I wish Jessie cared for me a little more. She is my
sister, after all. But I daresay it's my fault. I haven't got the key to
her heart. And, with Jessie and daddy so full of other affairs, I do
feel lonely. But when you are here I don't. I don't know what I should
have done without you, Archie. I think I might have killed myself."
This was glorious. Archie gave a splendid shudder.
"Don't talk like that," he said, in a tone of affectionate command. "You
don't know how it hurts."
"Ah, I'm sorry. It was selfish of me. Do you forgive me?"
"You know I do," said he.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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