The Young Clementina by D. E. Stevenson Read Free Book Online Page B

repass.
    Between us, now, the mountain and the wood
    Seem standing darker than last year they stood,
    And say we must not cross—alas! alas!”
    I read it again and again until the words were clear in my brain and I had no more need of the book. Then I put out the light and got back into bed. It was strange how comforted I felt. This man knew—he knew about me and Garth—he knew what it was like to be separated from the one person on earth by a dark, mysterious wood and a high, stony mountain. I was not alone in my experience—not alone anymore. The mere fact that another had walked where I was walking made the path easier for my feet. The mere fact of finding a simile for the mystery which separated me from my love made it easier to bear.
    I can’t explain why it should have been so; I only know that it was so. I could think of Garth and myself separated by the dark wood and the high mountain and accept it as inevitable. I was still sad—even miserable at times—but the awful agony of longing and searching was stilled. I ceased to rebel. I accepted my fate.
    Day succeeded day. My work filled my life. I did not return to Hinkleton for nearly a year, and I would not have gone then if Kitty had not made such a point of it. She asked me to be god-mother to her child, and to go down to Hinkleton for the christening. I did not want to go, and yet I did. London was so hot and stuffy and I knew how beautiful Hinkleton could be in July. A weekend at Hinkleton sounded to me like a weekend in heaven. It would be painful to see Garth and Kitty together, I knew that, but I thought I could bear it, and I told myself that it would look queer to refuse, and I did not want them to think that I grudged them their happiness.
    It was a strange visit. I thought Kitty changed, she was very silent when Garth was present, she almost seemed—was it my imagination— frightened of Garth. When we were alone together she was fretful and complaining, she complained of the servants, she complained of the nurse, Garth was inconsiderate and the garden needed rain. I put it down to her physical condition, she was still weak and apt to be tearful on the slightest provocation, I thought she would be happier when her strength returned—how could she fail to be happy when she had so much? Garth, on the other hand, was much more talkative than usual; he had developed an entirely new manner, a dry, sarcastic tone that jarred upon my nerves. That first night at dinner he was very gay—I thought his gaiety hollow, but I may have been mistaken. It is difficult to judge the merriment of others when one carries a sad heart in one’s breast, and my heart was very sad that night. I had not realized how painful it would be to return to Hinkleton after a year’s absence; everything hurt me, even the sunshine as it fell in golden rays upon the broad green lawns. Hinkleton Manor was so beautiful, more beautiful than ever, more spacious and leisurely than I remembered it. The whole place was like a glimpse of paradise after my mean flat in London and the baking streets.
    Surely these people, living in such glorious surroundings, must be happy; it was my imagination that they were not. It was I who had changed, not they. The pain of seeing my beloved Hinkleton after all these months had warped my outlook and made my judgment faulty. What could be wrong with Garth and Kitty? They had everything that they desired, and, now, a little daughter to crown their love.
    Garth and Kitty had decided that their son should be christened “Charles Dean” after his two grandfathers but, as neither he nor Kitty had expected—nor wanted—a daughter, no girls’ names had been discussed.
    â€œRose Marie” was Kitty’s choice.
    â€œNonsense!” said Garth. “You had better call the infant ‘Plain Jane.’ She’s plain enough in all conscience.”
    â€œOh Garth!” murmured Kitty.