Chapter XLV

“For the storm, and the rain, and the darkness borrow
But an hour from the suns to be,
But a strange swift passage, that we
May rejoice, who have mourned to-day, to-morrow
In the sun, and the wind, and the sea.”

SWINBURNE.

It was impossible for Katherine to realize anything in the quick days that followed. A dressmaker from town, a morning when the hall was filled with wreaths, the grim, tearful face of Miss Smith, the departure of Lilian and Daphne, passed by her like scenes in a theatre.

It was not until the funeral had taken place, and the last wreath lain upon the newly-dug grave, that Katherine realized her task was over. She noticed that the handsomest of all the flowers was a cross of lilies of the valley and white roses sent by Lady Middleton. People had come down to the funeral. One or two of Mr. Field’s well-known colleagues, he had few personal friends, and no relations. There was something infinitely pathetic to Katherine in the impersonal, almost professional aspect of the scene.

It was just as he would have liked. Rosamonde was too upset to go, and Miss Smith stayed with her, but after it was all over, she crept into the empty cemetery and cried the most futile and unsatisfying of all tears. Tears over death which (at any rate, to Arthur) had been the least of his troubles. When Katherine re-entered the house Rosamonde met her in the hall.

“When are you going, nurse?” she asked her curtly.

“I—I suppose I had better go now,” said Katherine. “There is nothing else, is there, that I can do?”

“You can pack your things,” said Rosamonde. Katherine went upstairs to the little dressing-room next to his room, where she was to have slept if it had been possible. Her things had been barely unpacked, and it was easy to put them up again. A few hours later she reported herself at the hospital. The Matron sent for her at once.

“You will take your holiday now, nurse,” she said. Then, for a moment, she forgot her position. “We were all so proud of him!” she said. “God knows I wish we could have saved him! There never was such a man for hip troubles—and as an operator——! and for all his sharp ways, he was the kindest-hearted man I know!” The Matron shook her head. As Katherine went to her room she passed a bevy of nurses just going on night duty. They were discussing the new consultant.

“He has such a lovely moustache,” said one of them. Katherine fled past them hurriedly. She did not wish to have to hear about the new consultant.

The next day found her at Link-Water, the house her father had taken. It was a little house with a sunny lawn leading down to the river. Mrs. Dalgeny welcomed her very warmly, the Colonel was away, and as she watched her mother sewing under the great yellowing trees, she could not realize that the two past years were more than a vivid dream, only that she felt so very much older than her mother.

“It is all very curious,” said Mrs. Dalgeny, “but you really seem to have improved. I had no idea that what you call your profession was so becoming. At one time you quite threatened to be fat. Now your figure is not unlike mine at your age, though _I_ was a mother then,” added Mrs. Dalgeny, thoughtfully.

“Are you happy?” asked Katherine bluntly, “with—with him?” Mrs. Dalgeny laughed.

“Dear child,” she said, “you still have your crude, odd way of putting things! I did not marry Colonel Dalgeny from any fairy-tale motives. I knew just what I might expect. He is obstinate, selfish, and absurdly scrupulous. I am fond of my own way and of my own pleasure, and I believe in expedients, but nevertheless we get on capitally. Do you ask me how?” said Mrs. Dalgeny, putting down her embroidery. “Because I feed him beautifully, and let him smoke where he likes. I am always well-dressed, and if I do not agree with him, I do not tell him so. I also never ask him where he has been, or what he is going to do, and I arrange my life for myself. There are wives who tell their husbands when they have made a mistake about a joint and expect him to look up their trains for them. An unhappy marriage in such cases is inevitable. I know the value of reserve. If he asks me why I do a thing I give him a reason he can understand. If he is angry with me, I confess that I am in the wrong, and cry. After that he naturally calls himself a brute, and I remain where I was. This makes everything quite simple, and I always make a point of listening to his suggestions.”

“Oh, mother!” said Katherine, “how horrible!”

“Oh, but I don’t follow them!” explained Mrs. Dalgeny.

Katherine saw the uselessness of Reformers. One can change the external, but when one tackles human nature the spots remain, and it is considered unbalanced to go quite so far.

“He must be desperately unhappy,” she thought. Then, looking up, she saw the Colonel crossing the lawn. Mrs. Dalgeny carefully placed her embroidery upon another chair and advanced to meet him, signalling to an open window for the maid to bring out tea. It might have been an awkward moment, but it was not. As the pair crossed the lawn to Katherine, the Colonel had already begun to tell his wife what had happened to him in town. After he had shaken hands with his daughter, he turned to his wife again.

“They gave me a beastly lunch,” he said, sitting down comfortably in a garden chair. Mrs. Dalgeny sent a veiled glance at her daughter. It was her moment of triumph, and the Colonel immensely enjoyed his tea. Katherine was disgusted.

“He is too comfortable to be unhappy,” she thought contemptuously. After tea Mrs. Dalgeny rose gracefully and left them. The Colonel regarded his daughter thoughtfully for awhile.

“Do you think your mother is looking well?” he asked her at last. “Are you satisfied about her?” Katherine looked out over the water. The shadows had deepened and lay long and dark across it; she could scarcely see her father’s face, but she could hear the wistful tone in his voice, and at last she understood. It was quite true that her mother had made him comfortable, but it was also true that she could never make him happy. Katherine trembled for a moment, then she put out her hand to him.

“Father,” she said, “I—I didn’t understand!” The Colonel pressed her hand, but he did not try to answer her, something in his throat choked him. By-and-bye he leant over her and kissed her. Then, as it was growing cool, he drew her hand in his arm, and they walked up and down the lawn together. Katherine told him all about her work.

Mrs. Dalgeny saw them from her bedroom window, and the satisfied smile left her face. Of course her husband thought her a very clever woman, but this was different, even Mrs. Dalgeny saw that. The Colonel talking with his daughter down below, was very happy. He would not have been so happy if his wife had joined them. Mrs. Dalgeny tried to sneer, but it is difficult to sneer when one’s lips are trembling. She called out of the window, “Katherine, it is time to dress for dinner!” but she could not always call her daughter in.