FullReads

About Christmas a letter from Forest Hill arrived at Teddington; this time it did not forbid a reply. It spoke of struggles sufferings, achievements.”Do I not deserve a word of praise? Have I not done something, as you said, towards solving the great question? Don’t you believe in me a little?” Four more weeks went by, and brought no answer. Then, one evening, in a mood of bitterness, Rosamund took a singular step; she wrote to Mr. Cheeseman. She had heard nothing of him, had utterly lost sight of the world in which they met; but his place of business was known to her, and thither she addressed the note. A few lines only: “You are a very strange person, and I really take no interest whatever in you. But I have sometimes thought you would like to ask my forgiveness. If so, write to the above address–my sister’s. I am living in London, and enjoying myself, but I don’t choose to let you know where.” Having an opportunity on the morrow, Sunday, she posted this in a remote district.

The next day, a letter arrived for her from Canada. Here was the explanation of Geoffrey’s silence. His words could hardly have been more cordial, but there were so few of them. On nourishment such as this no illusion could support itself; for the moment Rosamund renounced every hope. Well, she was no worse off than before the renewal of their friendship. But could it be called friendship? Geoffrey’s mother and sisters paid no heed to her; they doubtless considered that she had finally sunk below their horizon; and Geoffrey himself, for all his fine words, most likely thought the same at heart. Of course they would never meet again. And for the rest of her life she would be nothing more than a domestic servant in genteel disguise–happy were the disguise preserved.

However, she had provided a distraction for her gloomy thoughts. With no more delay than was due to its transmission by way of Glasgow, there came a reply from Mr. Cheeseman: two sheets of notepaper. The writer prostrated himself; he had been guilty of shameful behaviour; even Miss Jewell, with all her sweet womanliness, must find it hard to think of him with charity. But let her remember what “the poets” had written about Remorse, and apply to himthe most harrowing of their descriptions. He would be frank with her; he would “a plain, unvarnished tale unfold.” Whilst away for his holiday he by chance encountered onewith whom, in days gone by, he had held tender relations. She was a young widow; his foolish heart was touched; he sacrificed honour to the passing emotion. Their marriage would be delayed, for his affairs were just now anything but flourishing.”Dear Miss Jewell, will you not be my friend, my sister? Alas, I am not a happy man; but it is too late to lament.” And so on to the squeezed signature at the bottom of the last page.

Rosamund allowed a fortnight to pass–not before writing, but before her letter was posted. She used a tone of condescension, mingled with airy banter.”From my heart I feel for you, but, as you say, there is no help. I am afraid you are very impulsive–yet I thought that was a fault of youth. Do not give way to despair. I really don’t know whether I shall feel it right to let you hear again, but if it soothes you I don’t think there would be any harm in your letting me know the cause of your troubles.”

This odd correspondence, sometimes with intervals of three weeks, went on until late summer. Rosamund would soon have been a year with Mrs. Halliday. Her enthusiasm had long since burnt itself out; she was often a prey to vapours, to cheerless lassitude, even to the spirit of revolt against things in general, but on the whole she remained a thoroughly useful member of the household; the great experiment might fairly be called successful. At the end of August it was decided that the children must have sea air; their parents would take them away for a fortnight. When the project began to be talked of, Rosamund, perceiving a domestic difficulty, removed it by asking whether she would be at liberty to visit her sister in Scotland. Thus were things arranged.