” Simon Redvers. A sort of cousin. A Rockwell through his grandmother, who is my father’s sister. You won’t like him very much.
But then you’ll rarely meet. There isn’t much communication between Kelly Grange and the Revels.”
He was talking as though there was no doubt that I would marry him and that one day his house would be my home.
Sometimes I wondered whether there was not some subtlety in Gabriel.
He gradually built up pictures in my mind, so that his home and family somehow came alive for me, and as the picture grew clearer in my mind it brought with it a fascination which was not altogether pleasant and yet no less impelling because of that—but rather more so.
I wanted to see that pile of grey stones which had been made into a house three hundred years ago; I wanted to see those ruins which from a balcony of the house would have the appearance, not of a ruin but an ancient abbey because so much of the outer structure remained.
I was caught up in Gabriel’s life. I knew that if he went away I should be desperately lonely and dissatisfied with my life. I should be continually regretful.
And one sunny day, when I had walked out of the house with Friday at my heels, I met Gabriel on the moor; and we sat with our backs against a boulder while Friday crouched before us on the grass, his eyes going from one to the other, his head slightly cocked as though he listened to our conversation. This was complete happiness for him and we knew it was because we were together.
” There’s something I haven’t told you, Catherine,” said Gabriel.
I felt relieved, because I knew that he was going to tell me something now which he had been trying to for a long time.
” I want you to say you’ll marry me,” he went on, ” but so far you haven’t said that. You don’t dislike me ; you’re happy in my company.
That’s true, Catherine? “
I looked at him and saw again those lines between his brows ; I saw the puzzled frustration there and I remembered those occasions when he had seemed to forget what it was that made him so melancholy, when he threw off his moodiness and became gay. I felt a great desire then to chase the gloom out of his life, to make him happy as I had made Friday healthy.
” Of course I don’t dislike you,” I said, ” and we’re happy together.
If you go away . “
” You’d miss me, Catherine, but not as much as I should miss you. I want you to come back with me. I don’t want to go without you.”
” Why are you so eager for me to go back with you?”
” Why? Surely you know. It’s because I love you—because I never want to leave you again.”
” Yes, but … is there another reason?”
“What other reason should there be?” he asked; but he did not meet my eyes as he said that, and I knew that there was a great deal about him and his home that I had to learn.
” You should tell me everything, Gabriel,” I said on impulse. He mewed closer to me and put his arm about me. ” You are right, Catherine. There are things you should know. I cannot be happy without you and … there cannot be long left to me.”
I drew away from him. ” What do you mean?” I demanded sharply.
He sat up and looking straight ahead said: ” I cannot live more than a few years. I have received my sentence of death.”
I was angry with him because I could not bear to hear his talk of dying. ” Stop being dramatic,” I commanded, ” and tell me exactly what all this means.”
” It’s perfectly simple. I have a weak heart—a family complaint. I had an elder brother who died young. My mother died at my birth, but it was due to the same heart condition, aggravated by the strain of bringing me into the world. I could die to-morrow … next year … or in five years’ time. It would apparently be extraordinary if I lived longer than that.”
I yearned to comfort him and he knew how his words had affected me for he went on wistfully: ” It would not be a great many years, Catherine.”
” Don’t talk like that,” I said harshly; and I stood up, so overcome by my emotions that I could say no more. I started to walk quickly and Gabriel fell into step beside me. We were both silent, and Friday kept running ahead of us to look back at us anxiously, head on one side, while his eyes implored us to be gay.
That night I scarcely slept at all. I could think of nothing but Gabriel and his need for me. This was what had made him seem so different from any other person I had ever known, for I had never before known a person who was under a sentence of death. I kept hearing his voice saying: ” I could die to-morrow … next year … or in five years’ time. It would be extraordinary if I lived longer than that.” I kept seeing those melancholy eyes and remembering how at times he could be happy. And I could make him happy for what was left to him—I alone. How could I forget that? How could I turn away from someone who needed me so much?
At this time I was so inexperienced that I did not know how to analyse my emotions. But I was sure that if Gabriel went away I should miss him. He had brought a new interest into my life, making me forget the gloominess of my home; it was so pleasant to be with someone who was really interested in me after my father’s indifference, someone who admired me, after Fanny’s criticism.
Perhaps I was not in love; perhaps pity was at the very root of my feelings for Gabriel; but by the morning I had made up my mind.
The banns were read in the village church and Gabriel went back to Kirkland Revels, I presumed to inform his family, while I began preparing for my wedding.
Before leaving, Gabriel had formally asked my father for- my hand, and Father had been rather bewildered by the proceedings. He had hesitated, reminding Gabriel of my youth and the short time we had known each other; but I, who had been expecting he might do this, burst in on them and assured my father that I had quite made up my mind to marry.
Father looked worried and I knew that he was wishing that Uncle Dick were at home so that he could consult him ; however, I had no real fear of opposition, and after a while Father said that as I seemed determined, he supposed I must have my way. Then he asked the conventional questions about Gabriel’s standing which Gabriel was able to answer to his satisfaction; and it occurred to me for the first time that I must be marrying into a wealthy family.
I longed for the presence of Uncle Dick, because it seemed unthinkable that he should not be at my wedding. I believed that I could have talked to him of my feelings and that he would have helped me to come to a better understanding of them.
I told Gabriel how much I wanted Uncle Dick to come to the wedding, but he was so full of despair the thought of postponement that I gave way.
That desire in Gabriel to make the most of every hour touched me so deeply that I would let nothing stand in the way of the comfort he was sure I could bring him. Besides, although it was possible to write to Uncle Dick, one could never be sure when letters would reach him; and when I heard from him—he was not a good letter-writer and this was rarely—his letters never seemed to answer mine and I always wondered whether he had received them.
I could not resist writing to Dilys.
“The most extraordinary thing has happened. I am going to be married!
How strange that this should happen to me before you. It is the man I wrote to you about—the man who helped with the dog. He lives in Yorkshire in a wonderful old house near an abbey, and it has all happened so quickly that I don’t quite understand how it has come about. I don’t know whether I’m in love with him. I only know that I couldn’t bear it if he went away and I never saw him again. Oh, Dilys, it’s so exciting, because before it happened I was so wretched here.
You’ve no idea what my home is like. I myself had forgotten during all those years I was away. It’s a dark house … and I don’t mean that there’s just an absence of sunshine…. I mean the people in it live dark lives….” I tore that up. Was I crazy, trying to make Dilys under stand what I did not myself? How could I explain to Dilys that I was going to marry Gabriel because, for some reason which I could not fully understand, I was sorry for him and I knew he needed my help; because I wanted desperately to love someone who belonged to me; because my father had repulsed me when I had tried to show affection and had mutely asked for a little in return; because I wanted to escape from the house which was now my home.