She could sew no longer; her eyes refused to see the stitches, the needle to enter the cotton of the garment; she was weeping at the thought of her loss, prompted, alas, by that emotion which presumed not even to friendship. In her agitation she arose, despising herself, wringing her hands at her own miserable weakness, and as though she felt the need of a freer air than that within the room she made her way blindly out into the back garden, where she paced up and down, striving to calm herself. As she walked, filled at last by a returning tranquillity, she suddenly observed that upon the lilac tree, which in her memory had never flowered, there now grew one large and perfect budding blossom. With a quickening interest she advanced and, gently pulling down the bough which bore it, took the green spray within her fingers, touched and caressed it, and perceived to her surprise, from the faint colour that tinged the tips of the unopened buds, that it was white lilac, Delicious white lilac! She had never known that it was a white lilac bush, but now, like some propitious omen for the future, this melancholy tree had burgeoned and soon would wave a white and scented spray to cheer her during the coming spring. Nessie would love it, she thought, as, gently releasing the branch, she turned and in a happier spirit made her way back to the house.
The afternoon wore on, dusk fell, tea time came and passed, Nessie was again inevitably established in the parlour with her books, Brodie seated in the kitchen with his bottle and, the dishes once more washed and her house in order, she decided that she would fulfil her purpose to visit Doctor Renwick and explain, with all the delicacy she possessed, her difficulty in accepting these gifts which he had sent for Nessie. It was permissible for her to go out; her movements, indeed were not restrained in the evening, so long as she did not visibly interfere with the progress of the studies within the parlour, and assuming her hat and coat, she slipped out of the back door by which inferior avenue her father had now ordained that she should always enter and leave the house.
The night was fresh, the air soothing to her cheek, the unseen flowers more fragrant from the dew, and hidden by the darkness she moved down the road at a free and rapid pace. Although she did not immediately question the causes of this lightness of her mood, the throb of the coming springtime was stirring her, moving her as she had been moved by the budding lilac tree, and the nature of
her present journey was filling her unconsciously with happiness.
But as she drew near to Wellhall Road, she seemed to apprehend dimly the reason of her present cheerfulness, and gradually her steps slowed and she became confronted by a sudden thought. What tight had she to inflict herself upon a busy man who had patients waiting at his house, who was doubtless tired from a hard day's work?
Further, if it were indeed he who had sent the grapes, what impertinence on her part to refuse them! She was stabbed by the thought that her mission was a ruse, a subterfuge invented by her evasive mind to enable her to see him and, while her father's abusive words again rose before her like a judgment, she began to feel how unnecessary it was, now that Nessie appeared to be improving, for her to visit Doctor Renwick as she proposed. By some strange association of season, or was it of her sensations, her mind flew back to another springtime, and she realised that when she had known Denis in the past he had followed her, pursued her ardently; but now, and she blushed painfully in the darkness, it was she who actually wished to thrust her unworthy presence upon a man who had no desire to
see her.
By this time she had reached his house and, on the opposite side of die road, she stopped, rather dejectedly, and surveyed it, considering in her mind the tasteful decorations, the exquisite picture which had compelled her rapt attention. No! She would not go in, but merely watch the house for a moment under cover of the darkness and fill it with his presence, just as in the future she would come to this same spot and vision him again in that rich room when he had left the town for good.
As she stood there, she heard the quick crisp chatter of a horse's trot saw two high yellow lights gleam in the obscurity and, before she could move away, the doctor's gig came whirling to his house. Drawing back into the shadow of the wall she observed the pleasant bustle at the door, heard the pawing of the horse, the jingle of its harness, then Renwick's firm voice, which shook her by its nearness, saying to his man:
"I sha'n't be out again to-night, Dick; at least, I hope not! Good night to you!"
"Good night to you, sir. Hope you won't be disturbed," she heard the groom reply, as clambering back into his seat he drove off to the adjoining stable. With eyes that strained through the blackness, she followed Ren wick's dim figure to the porch; then, as the door was suddenly flung open and he was silhouetted against the brilliant light within, she saw him vividly. For a moment he turned and surveyed the darkness, looking directly towards her. Although she knew herself to be invisible to him, she trembled as though he had discovered her and would retrace his steps and demand to know the reason of her prying presence at this hour. But he did not return. After a last look at the night he went into his house, closing the door behind him, leaving the darkness unrelieved.
For a moment she remained still, overcome by her thoughts, then she stirred and began to move back towards her home, drooping a little, stealing quietly through the streets, as though some pervading realisation weighed her with a sense of infamy. She knew that she, Mary Brodie, outcast, the despoiled virgin, the mother of a dead and nameless child, loved again, but was herself unloved.
VIII
SUNDAY afternoon still held for Brodie the indulgence of an afternoon repose, for although he rose late and did not dine until two, custom died hard with him, and the blank hours from three until five found him invariably in his shirt sleeves and upon his back upon the sofa. It was not, however, the parlour sofa, but the couch within the kitchen upon which he rested; the other room was still hallowed to Nessie's studies, which were pursued on this day of rest with an intensity equal to that of week days, and he considered that it was a sacrifice on his part savouring of the heroic to have suggested and carried into effect this transference of his repose to a less dignified settee.
On this Sunday the hot July sun had made him feel drowsy and, having seen his younger daughter begin upon her work, exhorting her the more strongly in the face of the nearness of the great day of examination next week, he now laid himself down with the air of one who must not be disturbed, and allowed the drone of a fly upon the window to lull him into sleep.
It was, as he had just impressed upon Nessie, the last lap of the race, and whilst he snored in the happy consciousness of having done his part towards success by relinquishing the parlour, she addressed herself with a slightly feverish mind, towards her final perusal of the third book of Euclid. Her face was, flushed from the heat inside the parlour, and a buzzing of insects, like that which had sent Brodie so comfortably to sleep, annoyed her and distracted her mind from its intent purpose. She had never been quite sure of her geometry and now, with the examination coming off in a few days' time, her deficiencies in this subject had intimidated her and impelled her to rush once more through the entire third book. She knotted her brow and moved her lips as she again began to cram the eighth proposition into her brain but, despite her concentration, the words upon the page wavered, the diagrams became blurred, and the lines ran into strange fantastic shapes, not unlike the eccentric figures which had lately filled her troubled dreams and tormented her at nights in her sleep. The axis of the angle to the vertical was the coefficient of no, no, what was she talking about that was perfect nonsense! She must stick into it better than that, or the Latta would slip out of this pocket of hers where it so safely reposed and run away like a white mouse that would quickly nibble up all these golden sovereigns like so much cheese. How hot it was! And how her head ached! Her English was excellent, Latin perfect, French quite good, algebra splendid yes, she was a clever girl, everybody said so, and indeed the examiners for the Bursary would realise it the moment they set eyes upon her. When she had made her way proudly and confidently to school on the day of an examination she had, in the consciousness of her eminence, always felt that people whispered to one another, saying, "That's Nessie Brodie! She's the cleverest scholar in the Academy; shell come out first in this test as sure as her name's Brodie." Perhaps the professors at the University would put their heads together and talk like that; at least they would do so after they had read her papers. They must do so! or her father would want to know the reason of it. Indeed, if they failed to recognise who she was and to give her the first place, he would knock their heads together for them like so many coconuts. Coconuts! Matt had promised to bring her some when he had left for India and she had wanted a monkey and a parrot too, but he had somehow forgotten about them, and now that he had gone off with that terrible woman, he would never remember about a wee thing like Nessie Brodie. Had he married Nancy? She did not know; but Nancy was wicked, even if Matt had put a ring on her finger; and not like Mary, who was good and kind to her. Yet Mary was not married, although she had somehow had a baby which was dead and never mentioned by any one. Mary never spoke of it, but had a sadness about her face as though there was something on her mind that she could never forget. Mary was always running after her, giving her soup and eggs and milk, cuddling her and telling her not to work so hard.