• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 3155 0

now between them. It was as if they were already in each other's arms. For surely the rest of the letter must say that Mrs Tietjens had removed the furniture. And his comment--amazingly echoing the words she had just thought--was that he could stand up. But it wasn't in the least amazing. My beloved is mine...Their thoughts marched together; not in the least amazing. They could now stand on a hill together. Or get into a little hole. For good. And talk. For ever. She must not read the rest of the letter. She must not be certain. If she were certain she would have no hope of preserving her...Of remaining...Afraid and unable to move. She would be forced to read the letter because she was unable to move. Then she would be lost. She looked beseechingly out of the window at the house-fronts over the way. They were friendly. They would help her. Eighteenth century. Cynical, but not malignant. She sprang right off her feet. She could move then. She hadn't had a fit. Idiot. It was only the telephone. It went on and on. Drrinn; drinnnn; d.r.R.I.n.n. It came from just under her feet. No, from under the dais. The receiver was on the dais. She hadn't consciously noticed it because she had believed the telephone was dead. Who notices a dead telephone?

She said--it was as if she were talking into his ear, he so pervaded her--she said:

'Who are you?'

One ought not to answer all telephone calls, but one does so mechanically. She ought not to have answered this. She was in a compromising position. Her voice might be recognized. Let it be recognized. She desired to be known to be in a compromising position! What did you do on Armistice Day!

A voice, heavy and old, said:

'You are there, Valentine...

She cried out:

'Oh, poor mother...But he's not here.' She added, 'He's not been here with me. I'm still only waiting.' She added again: 'The house is empty!' She seemed to be stealthy, the house whispering round her. She seemed to be whispering to her mother to save her and not wanting the house to hear her. The house was eighteenth century. Cynical. But not malignant. It wanted her undoing but it knew that women liked being...ruined.

Her mother said, after a long time:

'Have you got to do this thing?...My little Valentine...My little Valentine!' She wasn't sobbing.

Valentine said:

'Yes, I've got to do it!' She sobbed. Suddenly she stopped sobbing.

She said quickly:

'Listen, mother. I've had no conversation with him. I don't know even whether he's sane. He appears to be mad.' She wanted to give her mother hope. Quickly. She had been speaking quickly to get hope to her mother as quickly as possible. But she added: 'I believe that I shall die if I cannot live with him.'

She said that slowly. She wanted to be like a little child trying to get truth home to its mother.

She said:

'I have waited too long. All these years.' She did not know that she had such desolate tones in her voice. She could see her mother looking into the distance with every statement that came to her, thinking. Old and grey. And majestic and kind...Her mother's voice came:

'I have sometimes suspected...My poor child...It has been for a long time?' They were both silent. Thinking. Her mother said:

'There isn't any practical way out?' She pondered for a long time. 'I take it you have thought it all out. I know you have a good head and you are good.' A rustling sound. 'But I am not level with these times. I should be glad if there were a way out. I should be glad if you could wait for each other. Or perhaps find a legal...

Valentine said:

'Oh, mother, don't cry!'...'Oh, mother, I can't...

'Oh, I will come...Mother, I will come back to you if you order it.' With each phrase her body was thrown about as if by a wave. She thought they only did that on the stage. Her eyes said to her:

...'Dear Sir,

'Our client, Mrs Christopher Tietjens of Groby-in-Cleveland...

They said:

'After the occurrence at the Base-Camp at...

They said:

'Thinks it useless...

She was agonized for her mother's voice. The telephone hummed in E flat. It tried B. Then it went back to E flat.