he had no wish at the moment to frighten her further by trying to force her confidence, Lord Cheriton said,
“You also promised to show me Richard’s room.”
“Yes, of course,” Wivina answered.
There was off the same passage another State room. It had always been referred to as the King’s room because Charles II was supposed to have stayed there, although it was very doubtful that he had ever done so.
It was a large room with a carved oak bed and furniture which matched it. There were also more books than Lord Cheriton ever remembered seeing in a bedroom before.
There were cases packed with them. They were piled on tables, in the corners of the room, on the floor, on chairs, and there were two lying open on the dressing table.
“There is no need to ask where your brother’s interests lie,” Lord Cheriton said in an amused tone.
“Richard loves books and horses,” Wivina answered, “but, as it is impossible to provide him with the latter, he has to live through what he reads.”
“As you have already said, it is a pity he cannot go to University,” Lord Cheriton remarked.
She gave a deep sigh.
“He is so clever and the Vicar is sure he would get a First Class Degree at Oxford if he had the chance, but the only chance he has is – ”
She stopped what she was saying and walked across the room to the window to look out on the lake and the Park.
“Do you – think,” she said in a low voice, “that if one – loves someone, one should be prepared to make any – sacrifice however hard – however unbearable – for them?”
It was a question Lord Cheriton knew must have turned over and over in her mind for a very long time.
“I believe,” he said after a moment, “that it is a mistake to think that what we want for someone else must be obtained at all costs, or, as you suggest, by an unbearable and intolerable sacrifice.”
As if his answer surprised her, she turned round to look at him, waiting, he knew, for him to continue.
“What you have to ask yourself,” he said, choosing his words with care, “is whether it would be right for Richard to accept such a sacrifice as you suggest. He has to live his own life, he has to make his own way. Perhaps it would be intolerable and indeed humiliating for him to profit at your expense or anyone else’s.”
Wivina looked at him wide-eyed.
“I never thought about it like that.”
She gave a little sigh as if part of the burden that had weighed her down fell from her shoulders.
“Above all,” Lord Cheriton went on, “you should never do anything you know in yourself to be wrong, impulsively, without thought, without calculating every aspect very carefully. I believe from very long experience of life that, contrary to the Jesuit teaching, the end does not justify the means.”
Surprisingly, he realised that Wivina understood exactly what he was saying.
She was so young and he thought that most women of her age would have found it hard to follow his train of thought.
“The end does not justify the means,” she repeated to herself.
She thought it over and then said,
“I have always believed it did, especially when the end meant helping someone weaker or younger than oneself.”
“You cannot mother the whole world, Wivina, or even your brother, if he is the one you are thinking of. A man should learn to stand on his own feet. If you sacrifice yourself for Richard, he might in later life hate you for retarding his development, for preventing him from finding his own way. That is what he has to do.”
There was a light in Wivina’s eyes that had not been there before and she said aloud,
“If – only I could – believe you.”
“You can believe me,” Lord Cheriton replied, “and let me tell you something else which I myself have found to be true, although it is a cliché.”
“What is that?” she asked.
“The darkest hour comes before the dawn.”
“You mean there might be another – solution for Richard – and for