Sister Teresa | Page 9

she saw the dying embers. She was in her room--only a dream, no more. Was that all? she asked as she lay in her bed singing herself to sleep, into a sleep so deep that she did not wake from it until her maid came to ask her if she would have breakfast in her room or if she were going down to breakfast.
"I will get up at once, M��rat, and do you look out a train, or ask the butler to look out one for you; we are going to Glasgow by the first quick train."
"But I thought Mademoiselle was going to stay here till Monday."
"Yes, M��rat, I know, so did I; but I have changed my mind. You had better begin to pack at once, for there is certain to be a train about twelve."
Evelyn saw that the devoted M��rat was annoyed; as well she might be, for Thornton Grange was a pleasant house for valets and lady's maids. "Some new valet," Evelyn thought, and she was sorry to drag M��rat away from him, for M��rat's sins were her own--no one was answerable for another; there was always that in her mind; and what applied to her did not apply to anybody else.
"Dear Lady Ascott, you'll forgive me?" she said during breakfast, "but I have to go to Glasgow this afternoon. I am obliged to leave by an early train."
"Sir Owen, will you try to persuade her? Get her some omelette, and I will pour out some coffee. Which will you have, dear? Tea or coffee? Everybody will be so disappointed; we have all been looking forward to some singing to-night."
Expostulations and suggestions went round the table, and Evelyn was glad when breakfast was over; and to escape from all this company, she accepted Owen's proposal to go for a walk.
"You haven't seen my garden, or the cliffs? Sir Owen, I count upon you to persuade her to stay until to-morrow, and you will show her the glen, won't you? And you'll tell me how many trees we have lost in last night's storm."
Owen and Evelyn left the other guests talking of how they had lain awake last night listening to the wind.
"Shall we go this way, round by the lake, towards the glen? Lady Ascott is very disappointed; she said so to me just now."
"You mean about my leaving?"
"Yes, of course, after all she had done for you, the trouble she had taken about the Edinburgh concert. Of course they all like to hear you sing; they may not understand very well, still they like it, everybody likes to hear a soprano. You might stay."
"I'm very sorry, Owen, I'm sorry to disappoint Lady Ascott, who is a kindly soul, but--well, it raises the whole question up again. When one has made up one's mind to live a certain kind of life--"
"But, Evelyn, who is preventing you from living up to your ideal? The people here don't interfere with you? Nobody came knocking at your door last night?"
"No."
"I didn't come, and I was next door to you. Didn't it seem strange to you, Evelyn, that I should sleep so near and not come to say good-night? But I knew you wouldn't like it, so I resisted the temptation."
"Was that the only reason?"
"What do you mean?"
"Of course, I know you wouldn't do anything that would displease me; you've been very kind, more kind than I deserve, but--"
"But what?"
"Well, it's hard to express it. Nothing happened to prevent you?"
"Prevent me?"
"I don't mean that you were actually prevented, but was there another reason?"
"You mean a sudden scruple of conscience? My conscience is quite healthy."
"Then what stayed you was no more than a fear of displeasing me? And you wanted to come to see me, didn't you?"
"Of course I did. Well, perhaps there was another reason... only... no, there was no other reason."
"But there was; you have admitted that there was. Do tell me."
And Owen told her that something seemed to have held him back when the thought came of going to her room. "It was really very strange. The thought was put into my mind suddenly that it would be better for me not to go to your room."
"No more than a sudden thought? But the thought was very clear and distinct?"
"Yes; but between waking and sleeping thoughts are unusually distinct."
"You don't believe in miracles, Owen?" And she told him of her dream and her sudden awaking, and the voices heard in her ears at first, then in the room, and then about the house. "So you see the nuns kept us apart."
"And you believe in these things?"
"How can I do otherwise?"
Owen sighed, and they walked on a few paces. The last leaves were dancing; the woods were cold and wet, the heavy branches of the fir-trees dripping with cold rain,