The Vicissitudes of Evangeline. Glyn Elinor
brilliant dark fiery red like a chestnut when it tumbles out of its shell, only burnished like metal. If I had the usual white eyelashes I should be downright ugly, but, thank goodness! by some freak of nature mine are black and thick, and stick out when you look at me sideways, and I often think when I catch sight of myself in the glass that I am really very pretty – all put together – but, as I said before, not a type to please every one.
A combination I am that Mrs. Carruthers assured me would cause anxieties. “With that mixture, Evangeline,” she often said, “you would do well to settle yourself in life as soon as possible. Good girls don’t have your colouring.” So you see, as I am branded as bad from the beginning, it does not much matter what I do. My eyes are as green as pale emeralds, and long, and not going down at the corners with the Madonna expression of Cicely Parker, the Vicar’s daughter. I do not know yet what is being good, or being bad, perhaps I shall find out when I am an adventuress, or married to Mr. Carruthers.
All I know is that I want to live, and feel the blood rushing through my veins. I want to do as I please, and not have to be polite when I am burning with rage. I want to be late in the morning if I happen to fancy sleeping, and I want to sit up at night if I don’t want to go to bed! So, as you can do what you like when you are married, I really hope Mr. Carruthers will take a fancy to me, and then all will be well! I shall stay upstairs until I hear the carriage-wheels, and leave Mr. Barton – the lawyer – to receive him. Then I shall saunter down nonchalantly while they are in the hall. It will be an effective entrance. My trailing black garments, and the great broad stairs – this is a splendid house – and if he has an eye in his head he must see my foot on each step! Even Mrs. Carruthers said I have the best foot she had ever seen. I am getting quite excited. I shall ring for Véronique and begin to dress!.. I shall write more presently.
It is evening, and the fire is burning brightly in my sitting-room where I am writing. My sitting-room! – did I say? Mr. Carruthers’ sitting-room I meant – for it is mine no longer, and on Saturday, the day after to-morrow, I shall have to bid good-bye to it forever.
For yes – I may as well say it at once – the affair did not walk. Mr. Carruthers quietly, but firmly, refused to obey his aunt’s will, and thus I am left an old maid!
I must go back to this afternoon to make it clear, and I must say my ears tingle as I think of it.
I rang for Véronique, and put on my new black afternoon frock, which had just been unpacked. I tucked in the violets in a careless way. Saw that my hair was curling as vigorously as usual, and not too rebelliously for a demure appearance, and so, at exactly the right moment, began to descend the stairs.
There was Mr. Carruthers in the hall. A horribly nice-looking, tall man, with a clean-shaven face, and features cut out of stone. A square chin, with a nasty twinkle in the corner of his eye. He has a very distinguished look, and that air of never having had to worry for his things to fit, they appear as if they had grown on him. He has a cold, reserved manner, and something commanding and arrogant in it, which makes one want to contradict him at once, but his voice is charming. One of that cultivated, refined kind, that sounds as if he spoke a number of languages, and so does not slur his words. I believe this is diplomatic, for some of the old ambassador people had this sort of voice.
He was standing with his back to the fire, and the light of the big window with the sun getting low was full on his face, so I had a good look at him. I said in the beginning that there was no use pretending when one is writing one’s own thoughts for one’s own self to read when one is old, and keeping them in a locked-up journal, so I shall always tell the truth here – quite different things to what I should say if I were talking to someone, and describing to them this scene. Then I should say I found him utterly unattractive, and in fact, I hardly noticed him! As it was, I noticed him very much, and I have a tiresome inward conviction that he could be very attractive indeed, if he liked.
He looked up, and I came forward with my best demure air, as Mr. Barton nervously introduced us, and we shook hands. I left him to speak first.
“Abominably cold day,” he said, carelessly. That was English and promising!
“Yes, indeed,” I said. “You have just arrived?”
And so we continued in this banal way, with Mr. Barton twirling his thumbs, and hoping, one could see, that we should soon come to the business of the day; interposing a remark here and there, which added to the gêne of the situation.
At last Mr. Carruthers said to Mr. Barton that he would go round and see the house; and I said tea would be ready when they got back. And so they started.
My cheeks would burn, and my hands were so cold, it was awkward and annoying, not half the simple affair I had thought it would be upstairs.
When it was quite dark, and the lamps were brought, they came back to the hall, and Mr. Barton, saying he did not want any tea, left us to find papers in the library.
I gave Mr. Carruthers some tea, and asked the usual things about sugar and cream. His eye had almost a look of contempt as he glanced at me, and I felt an angry throb in my throat. When he had finished he got up, and stood before the fire again. Then, deliberately, as a man who has determined to do his duty at any cost, he began to speak:
“You know the wish – or rather, I should say, the command, my aunt left me,” he said – “in fact she states that she had always brought you up to the idea. It is rather a tiresome thing to discuss with a stranger, but perhaps we had better get it over as soon as possible, as that is what I came down here to-day for. The command was, I should marry you.” – He paused a moment. I remained perfectly still, with my hands idly clasped in my lap, and made myself keep my eyes on his face.
He continued, finding I did not answer – just a faint tone of resentment creeping into his voice – because I would not help him out, I suppose – I should think not! I loved annoying him!
“It is a preposterous idea in these days for any one to dispose of people’s destinies in this way, and I am sure you will agree with me that such a marriage would be impossible.”
“Of course I agree,” I replied, lying with a tone of careless sincerity. I had to control all my real feelings of either anger or pleasure for so long in Mrs. Carruthers’ presence that I am now an adept.
“I am so glad you put it so plainly,” I went on sweetly. “I was wondering how I should write it to you, but now you are here it is quite easy for us to finish the matter at once. Whatever Mrs. Carruthers may have intended me to do, I had no intention of obeying her, but it would have been useless for me to say so to her, and so I waited until the time for speech should come. Won’t you have some more tea?”
He looked at me very straightly, almost angrily, for an instant; presently, with a sigh of relief, he said, half laughing —
“Then we are agreed, we need say no more about it!”
“No more,” I answered, and I smiled too, although a rage of anger was clutching my throat. I do not know who I was angry with – Mrs. Carruthers for procuring this situation, Christopher for being insensible to my charms, or myself for ever having contemplated for a second the possibility of his doing otherwise. Why, when one thinks of it calmly, should he want to marry me? A penniless adventuress with green eyes, and red hair, that he had never seen before in his life. I hoped he thought I was a person of naturally high colour, because my cheeks from the moment I began to dress had been burning and burning. It might have given him the idea the scene was causing me some emotion, and that he should never know!
He took some more tea, but he did not drink it, and by this I guessed that he also was not as calm as he looked!
“There is something else,” he said. And now there was almost an awkwardness in his voice. “Something else which I want to say, though perhaps Mr. Barton could say it for me – but which I would rather say straight to you – and that is you must let me settle such a sum of money on you as you had every right to expect from my aunt, after the promises I understand she always made to you – ”
This time I did not wait for him to finish! I bounded up from my seat – some uncontrollable sensation