I looked up. It was keeping perfect time as usual, and I remarked on this.
” ‘Course it be in good order,” said A’Lee. “Reckon it mustn’t never be aught else. Tis Thomas Dawney’s task to see it do keep hi good order, and ‘tis what the Dawneys has been fed and clothed and roofed for, this last hundred years —ever since the clock did stop and Sir Redvers Menfrey were thrown from his horse, they Menfreys has made sure as nothing do happen to the clock.”
Through the gateway we went under the clock, past the lodge and those quarters which had been the home of Dawneys for a hundred years, and there were the lawns with the hydrangeas and azaleas all in bloom and the lovely cotoneaster which was covered in scarlet berries all through the winter.
In the great hall, with its pictures on the walls, its vaulted ceiling and its staircase on either side of which were suits of armor worn during the Civil War by the Menfreys of the day, I remembered that night when I was brought hi from the island by Bevil, and how Gwennan had stood on the staircase reproaching me.
Now A’Lee pulled the bellrope, and Pengelly, the Menfreys’ butler, came into the hall and conducted me into the red drawing room, where Lady Menfrey was waiting to receive me.
It was wonderful to be with Gwennan again. She was like a flame; she seemed to have been born with a radiance which was dazzling. I felt alive merely to look at her.
She came in while I was having tea with Lady Menfrey, swooped on me in her exuberant way and carried me to her room. She had changed, of course. She was indeed a woman—voluptuous and beautiful, eager and excited.
This, I thought, is Gwennan in love.
She talked about the plans for the wedding. The whole neighborhood expects a grand affair. It’ll be rather like a medieval pageant, I imagine. My wedding dress is going to be a copy of one worn by my great-great-great-grandmother. I have to keep going for fittings. Such a bore, because I have to take Dinah with me. Chaperone! Unmarried young ladies are not allowed to go into the big city alone. One of the best things about being married is freedom, I do assure you, Harriet You will be in chains still, while I shall be free.”
“Some husbands, I have heard, can be jailers.”
“Not my husband. Do you imagine I’d go from one prison to another?”
“Actually, I think your family is more lenient than most”
“What are we talking about when there’s so much to say? Now you are maid of honor. Makes me sound like a queen, doesn’t it? And you are going to be dressed in lilac chiffon and you’ll look…”
“Hideous,” I added.
“That’s the idea. A contrast to the beautiful bride.”
We were laughing together. It was good to be with Gwennan. The thought struck her, for she said so.
“I’m so glad you’ve come, Harriet When I’m married you must be our first guest at Chough.”
“It’s odd to think of you there.”
“Yes, isn’t it? Mind you, we’re making tremendous alterations. Harry is making it like a palace to fit his queen.”
“I believe you’re madly in love with him.”
“Shouldn’t I be? Only I’m supposed to hide it until the wedding day. He has to go on his knees to me before the day; then he forces me to mine when I have to honor and obey.”
“He wouldn’t dare!”
“I should hope not. He adores me. Now, listen. Tomorrow, we are going into Plymouth. It’s rather amusing. Dinah has a sister there, and I send her off to see her. That leaves us free.”
“Free for what?”
“You’ll see. But first we have to go to the dressmaker’s to see about that lilac gown of yours.”
She was smiling—looking I thought, into the future; and I realized how very fond I was of her, because I sensed a new softness in her and I guessed that was being in love. Gwennan would love more fiercely than most people. Everything she did was done with such verve. If Harry Leveret loved her and she loved him, they should be very happy.
Then she said a strange thing: “Harriet, I sometimes think I should have done well on the stage.”
I raised my eyebrows and waited for her to enlarge on this subject, but she said nothing and went on smiling into the future.
The next day we were driven to the station and there took the train to Plymouth. Dinah, Gwennan’s personal maid, accompanied us and deposited us at the dressmaker’s, arranging to pick us up late in the afternoon.
I said, “We are spending a long time at the dressmaker’s.” But Gwennan only smiled and retorted that I must leave everything to her.
I was measured; I saw the lilac material, and Gwennan said that we should come back in three days for my first fitting. We were in the shop for only half an hour.
“I have a treat in store for you, Harriet. We are going to the theater. You’ll like it. It’s rather wonderful. Romeo and Juliet. You remember how well you could read poetry, but you were no good in the plays, were you. You could never forget yourself. That’s your trouble.”
“Why didn’t you say we were going to the theater?”
“Why should I?”
“As a matter of interest.”
She was silent, and the smile still played about her lips.
“I might even take you backstage after the show.”
“You mean … you have a friend in the production?”
“You always said I surprised you, and you never knew what I was going to do next Are you surprised now?”
I agreed that I was.
“You’re going to enjoy this, Harriet.”
She bought our tickets and we went into the theater. I saw from the program that it was a repertory company who were spending a short season in Plymouth and were doing Henry Arthur Jones and Finero besides the occasional Shakespearean production.
But I was more interested in Gwennan’s attitude than anything I should see on the stage. Some adventure was in progress. I knew the signs and I began to have misgivings.
Why should she be so interested in the theater on the eve of her wedding?
She pointed to a name on the list of players. “Eve Ellington,” I read. “What of it?” I asked.
“You can’t guess who that is?”
J. shook my bead.
“Remember Jane Ellington?”
I did. I could see Jane in the center of our room in France, reciting scenes from Hamlet.
“Good heavens,” I said. “No!”
“Yes,” she answered. “She wrote to me that she would be here, and I came along to see her. Then I went backstage, as she had invited me, and I met some members of the company. I’ve been several times since.”
“That’s why you thought you’d like to be on the stage! Rather late to think about that when you’re shortly to become Mrs. Leveret, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said, “it’s very late. What you would call the eleventh hour.”
“No,” I said, “it’s on the stroke of midnight.”
“That won’t be until the actual ceremony,” she answered firmly.
“You wouldn’t be any good. You’d never learn a part”
The curtain rose and the play began. It was cheap and tawdry, I thought, and the acting indifferent; oddly enough, Gwennan seemed entranced. Romeo was handsome enough and I looked for his name hi the program: Benedict Bel-lairs; and I noticed that Eve Ellington played Lady Capulet. I recognized her immediately and settled down to watch her. Poor Jane, who had had such grand ideas!
When the curtain fell on the first act I said as much to Gwennan. “What rubbish,” she said. “She has to start, hasn’t she? I think it’s quite an … achievement.”
“You think she will be another Ellen Terry, and I suppose Romeo is Irving in embryo.”
“Why not?”
“I should imagine that even in the beginning of their careers they played rather differently.”