Chapter XV: A Sailor's Bride

THE visitors were late in arriving, and the car did not mount the steep hill. Tom grew restless and went off down to meet them.

Tomina stayed where she was. Her heart was in a tumult. She dreaded, yet longed, to see Tom's future wife. She heard voices coming up the village street, but she sat still by her fire and waited. She was looking very charming this afternoon. She wore a grey cloth skirt, with rather an ethereal filmy lace and chiffon blouse to tone with it, and she had tucked some violets into her belt. Her hair, as usual, curled round her broad, white brow. If her face looked a trifle white, and her eyes soft and grave, she had only to speak to bring out all the sparkle and charm that was her chief characteristic.

In a very few minutes, the door opened and Tom ushered his visitors in. Mrs. Letterby was first introduced, a smart, plump little woman with plenty to say for herself, the type of woman that Tomina knew well in town—good-natured, self-indulgent, and with very moderate brains. It was the tall stately figure behind her that made Tomina instantly alert and interested. When she threw up her veil, Tomina saw a very proud, small head with a wealth of soft dusky hair, deep inscrutable unsmiling eyes, a pale oval face, delicate nose, rather a prominent chin, and a sensitively curved mouth, as grave and unsmiling as the eyes. Just a little glimmer of a smile came to the lips when Tomina stretched out both her hands, and raised her face to hers with her own fascinating smile.

"For Tom's sake, you must let me love you!" she said impulsively.

"Or try to," said Doreen Forrester.

There was no doubt about it she was very beautiful, but there was something strangely aloof and distant in her bearing and tone.

Tom did not seem to perceive it. Worshipful adoration was in his eyes. As he stood by her, Tomina felt an unreasonable vexation rise within her that Doreen should make Tom appear a short man. He in reality topped her by a good inch, but he was broadly made, and she was thin and willowy. She sat down and handed her long motor veil to Tom, then she looked into his face and smiled, and Tom's honest face grew crimson.

Tomina watched them both as she talked to Mrs. Letterby. She was rather relieved than otherwise when Tom took Doreen out into the garden. Then she felt she could speak freely.

"This is all very sudden, isn't it? Why are they in such a hurry to get married?"

"My dear Miss Gavin, if you ask me, I should say because your brother has no patience, and Doreen is tired of being a single woman. She wasn't very happy out in Queensland, got bored with the perpetual entertaining. I hope your brother will understand her. I never could. She is older than he, you know."

"Only a year," said Tomina, quickly.

"A year in age, but quite ten years in experience. She was always very grave and intense even as a child. I was the pickle, always tumbling into scrapes, and then out of them. You are not much like your brother. He told us you were his twin."

"No, I am not much like him," said Tomina, "but tell me more about your sister. She does not look happy."

"Don't you think so? You really mustn't get out of me all her love affairs. She has had a good many. Men say she is elusive, and their curiosity is roused. She is more a man's woman than a woman's. Your brother is very favoured, for she means to stick to him this time."

"You are rather implying that she has been engaged before."

"I am not going to say. Doreen is old enough to know her own mind now; and she is not a girl to take the advice of others. What a tiny cottage you have here! Do you like it?"

"Very much."

"You don't fit it."

Tomina laughed.

"That is rather an unkind speech. I didn't fit it when I first came down, but I flatter myself that I do now. Is—is Doreen living with you?"

"Till she marries. She doesn't want a crush. It will be quite a simple affair. I am keeping a spare room for you."

"Oh, thank you, but if I am in town, I must go home. My stepmother would feel hurt if I did not."

"I forgot you lived in town. I believe I have met Lady Gavin; we don't stay much in London. We have a house there this winter, but we live in Hampshire. My husband is a Member, and the House is sitting now, so of course we must be in town."

Conversation rather languished between them. Mrs. Letterby would not give Tomina much more information about her sister. She learnt that their parents had died whilst they were still in the schoolroom, and they had more or less looked after themselves till Mrs. Letterby married. Then Doreen had made her home with her until her brother asked her to go out and keep house for him in Australia.

"I want to see a little of Doreen," said Tomina, presently. "Do you think they would be vexed if we joined them in the garden?"

Mrs. Letterby rose with alacrity. They found them pacing the little path by the sweet-briar hedge, she still with that grave brooding expression of countenance; and Tom with his face aglow, and eyes sparkling with animation.

Tomina cleverly detached Doreen from him, and took her out of the side gate under pretence of seeing the old church.

"I want to see something of you," she said. "I suppose we are the two women that Tom loves most in the world. But it is always a trying experience when a sister has to take the second place."

"Is it?" questioned Doreen, slowly. "I used to wish my brother married when I lived with him. But he was a different stamp of man from yours."

"Tom is a dear," said Tomina, warmly. "His only fault is that he is too unselfish as a man. He always was that. I used to be the selfish one as children; he generally gave way to me. I do hope you and he will have a happy time together. I wish he had not to leave you so soon."

"We shall have two weeks together," said Doreen, very quickly. "It is the life that appeals to me. We shall not be likely to get tired of each other, and the time he is away will soon pass. As one gets older, time seems nothing. Everything passes, bad times as well as good."

Tomina looked at her a little inquiringly, but Doreen's face was so cold and impassive that she dared say no more.

"Tell me about the little old house that has been left you. Tom mentioned it to me. Do you like it?"

Tomina had kindled the spark at last.

Light and warmth leapt into Doreen's grey eyes.

"Oh, it is exquisite," she said. "It is a dream of a place. It came so unexpectedly that even now I can hardly believe it is true. I am longing to go down and take possession. It has a thatched roof with many gables and irregular corners to it. The windows are genuine leaded casements. All the rooms are odd and uneven. I mean that you step down into one and up into another, and you never know where the doors are, as they and the cupboard doors are often in the wall, and are papered over so that you do not notice them. The drawing-room runs from east to west and is upstairs with a balcony outside it, and you look out upon a deer park with a lake in the distance, and hills beyond."

"Oh, go on!" cried Tomina. "I love the sound of it."

"The downstair hall ends in a conservatory and has a wide old-fashioned hearth. The dining-room and morning room have quaint glass cupboards in the wall, and deep window-seats. And then the garden, it's just a garden out of a book—winding paths and old red brick walls covered with fruit, and little lawns between lavender hedges and herbaceous borders of old-fashioned flowers, and a sundial surrounded with roses, and a terrace walk bordered with roses. My aunt spent all her time in her garden, and all her money. I never dreamt it would come to me. It is enough to content a woman without any husband at all!"

"I am glad you say that," said Tomina, inwardly wondering at the transformation in her, "because it shows that you have no other reason for becoming engaged to Tom, but because you really love him!"

Doreen's long lashes drooped over her eyes, and the colour faded again from her cheeks.

"You are quick at deductions," she said.

"Am I? I only see that you could quite well have gone off to this house and taken possession without burdening yourself with a husband!"

"I don't think I could."

The words left her lips very slowly. Her animation had gone, she was again the quiet inscrutable girl, and Tomina could not win another smile from her. Presently Doreen said—

"Why do you live in such a very out-of-the-way place? You do not look like a country person."

"Ah! You wait till you see me in my oilskins on a wet day driving my van! You like the country, don't you? Will you come and stay with me for a little when Tom leaves you?"

"Would you like to have me?"

"Very much. I want to know you. Will it take me a long time?"

Doreen's eyes met Tomina's mischievous ones, but she made no reply. Then she suddenly laid her hand on her arm.

"Are you sweet all through?" she asked. "If so, I would like to be with you. But if you question in your heart continually whether I am good enough for your brother, I would rather have the ocean between us."

It was Tomina's turn to look serious now.

"I shan't be critical, Doreen. I honestly would like you to come. Somehow or other I feel that we shall be friends."

"Then I will. I do love the country. I am tired of people, I am tired of talk. When I take possession of my house, the sense of silence and peace there will be the greatest attraction to me."

Their little talk was over, for the others now overtook them, and they returned to the cottage for tea. Tomina had no chance for a talk with her brother. Only as she insisted upon helping him into his overcoat in her little hall, did he turn to her and say—

"Isn't she adorable?"

And Tomina answered promptly—

"She is charming."

Then he went off with them, and Tomina had to possess her soul in patience till he returned to her the next day. She felt very mystified and uneasy over Doreen, and longed to talk to Tom about her.

He came back in the best of spirits and quite ready to talk only of the one who was at present absorbing his life.

Then Tomina asked him this question—"Is she happy, Tom?"

"Happy! Well, I should think so! Why should you doubt it?"

"She has such a sad face."

"Until she smiles. And I keep her smiling when I am with her," said Tom, stoutly.

"She must be fond of you," said Tomina, slowly and thoughtfully, more to convince herself than him of that fact, "for she is not obliged to marry. A girl who is a possessor of a beautiful old home could have a very nice life in it without a husband. She is quite independent, isn't she?"

"Trust a sister to take the shine out of a fellow's self-esteem!" laughed Tom. "Why should you doubt her affection for me? And as to her house, in honesty, I must say that apart from me, it would be a white elephant, for her aunt never left her a penny of money."

"How dreadful for her! Has she no money of her own?"

"Nothing to speak of. A paltry twenty-five pounds a year, or something of that sort. But I've always said that a man is in a queer corner when he lives on his wife's money! I wouldn't do it!"

Tomina felt a sudden sinking of heart. Was this possibly a reason for her accepting Tom? She had a strange feeling that Doreen did not care for him as he cared for her.

"You got on all right with her, didn't you?" pursued Tom. "I knew you would—once you saw each other. She isn't very keen after people as a rule, not after her own sex. I think she likes men better. She's so different from the ordinary run of girls, not all that chitter-chatter and rot. She likes sensible talk, she's awfully clever, you know, reads no end. Says she's never lonely if she has books. But she told me she was coming to stay with you, and then later on you'll fix it up with her, and when I come home, I shall find the two of you waiting for me!"

"Oh, Tom, not so fast!"

Tomina laughed as she spoke.

"I really cannot promise to live with Doreen, I don't suppose that she would care about it, neither should I. But I mean to be her friend if she will let me. You mustn't ask more than that."

"Doreen will like what I like," said Tom, cheerfully. "If she knows that I want you to live with her while I am away, she'll have you."

"But please leave us free, dear Tom, to settle that between ourselves."

Then Tom burst into a rhapsody of all Doreen's perfections.

And Tomina listened, and wondered if all men were so simple in their trust and adoration as this sailor brother of hers. The time flew whilst he was with her, and then rather reluctantly, she accompanied him to town.

She was received by her stepmother and friends as if she had been away in a foreign country. They all congratulated her on her improved looks, and took it for granted that her rest cure was complete, and that she had left the country for good. Tomina did not at first undeceive them. Indeed, she hardly had time, for Tom's wedding was upon them, and Tomina passed through it as if in a dream. There was a great rush, in spite of Mrs. Letterby's announcement that it would be very quiet, and Doreen seemed absorbed and overwhelmed by her own friends and relatives.

But Tomina got one moment with her when she was dressed in her bridal garments. She had shut every one out of her room saying she wanted to be alone, and then she had drawn Tomina inside for a second.

"I have hardly seen you; tell me—you know your brother as no one else does—will he be satisfied—is he satisfied with me?"

It was such a strange question for her to ask that for one moment Tomina was dumb. Then she took both her hands in hers, and she noted how cold and trembling they were.

"My dear Doreen, Tom's one idea is that you are perfection. You have got the whole of his affectionate, honest heart. I pray you may never fail or disappoint him."

Other words were trembling on her tongue, but she did not say them.

She longed to cry.

"Oh, don't marry him even now if you do not love him!" But she dare not be the cause of agitating her at this last moment.

Doreen leant forward and kissed her.

"I am glad to have you as a sister," she said.

And then Tomina was obliged to leave her.

She was rather a sad spectator in the fashionable church. A weight seemed to fall upon her spirits. As bride and bridegroom came down the aisle, she brightened up. Tom, in his uniform, was handsome and radiant; and Doreen, though very pale, was smiling and looking her happiest.

Their eyes met Tomina's and both nodded to her in such a bright, reassuring way that she took herself to task for her silly fears and fancies.

And the rest of the ceremony passed off without a hitch.

When Doreen wished Tomina good-bye, she said—

"May I come down to you in a fortnight's time?"

"Oh yes—yes! I shall be waiting for you!"

But Tomina's eyes were misty as she spoke.

Doreen was looking very beautiful. She held herself proudly and her eyes were bright, and there was a pink colour in her lips. She and her bridegroom were whirled away in their motor amidst a shower of confetti, and a little of the old-fashioned rice. And though many of their friends were saying what a successful wedding it had been, Tomina knew in her heart that somewhere there was a rift within the lute.

She did not stay in town very long, though pressed to do so.

Lady Gavin was a little uneasy, and had a serious talk with her the day before she left her.

"You know, my dear girl, that I have never interfered with your pleasures or plans, but I hardly think you can continue to live alone in this country cottage of yours. It is so—so peculiar. People will talk. It was very well as long as you were in delicate health, but you are stronger now, are you not? You musn't slip out of everything and get unsociable and cranky. You are too young for that kind of thing. I hope to see you happily married. Then I shall consider I have done my duty toward you, and begin to think of settling down to a peaceful old age."

Tomina's gay laughter rang out. Lady Gavin was the last person on earth to own to increasing years, nor would she ever be likely to settle down to a quiet old age.

"You must give me my year. I haven't had it yet. And town life does not agree with me. You know it never did."

"You look very well. I found out quite by accident that you are near Colonel Norman's place. Did you see anything of him?"

"A little," said Tomina, carelessly.

"It is dreadfully sad about his mother. I suppose you know they are at Cannes now. A friend of mine is in the same hotel with them. She says it is pitiful to see the son tied to his mother's couch; she won't let him out of her sight. He is just like a nurse attendant. I can't fancy him in that 'rôle.' He used to be such a smart, keen soldier, and was always so autocratic and masterful. That was the cause of your quarrel with him, was it not?"

Tomina winced as if a nerve had been touched.

"You musn't mind my going back," she said. "I am developing a new part of me in the country—the part that has been lying dormant. And I am not sufficiently strong in that part to come back to the rush of town gaiety yet."

Lady Gavin looked at her with a perplexed face, but after a little further effort to dissuade Tomina from returning, she gave it up, and they parted the best of friends. She added to her stepdaughter's uneasiness by saying to her in parting—

"I hope this marriage of Tom's will turn out a success. If you are going to have his wife to stay with you, you may make something of her. But she's marrying him for some convenience, and her heart isn't in it. I dare say it will turn out all right, as Tom will be away so much. Unless another man appears, and then I wouldn't trust her."

Tomina looked horrified, but her stepmother only laughed.

"I don't want to shock you, but you're old enough to be able to read a woman's face. Something in her past has spoiled her life; that is very plain if you watch her."

And as Tomina was in the train whirling through the town into the great country beyond, her thoughts were centred on Doreen.