"Here, dearest," he said; "let it be here."Jane came to him, and for a moment they stood together, looking up the chancel.It was darker than the rest of the church, being lighted only by three narrow stained-glass windows, gems of colour and of significance.The centre window, immediately over the communion table, represented the Saviour of the world, dying upon the cross.They gazed at it in reverent silence.Then Garth turned to Jane.
"My beloved," he said, "it is a sacred Presence and a sacred place.
But no place could be too sacred for that which we have to say to each other, and the Holy Presence, in which we both believe, is here to bless and ratify it.I am waiting for your answer."Jane cleared her throat and put her trembling hands into the large pockets of her tweed coat.
"Dal," she said; "my answer is a question.How old are you?"She felt his start of intense surprise.She saw the light of expectant joy fade from his face.But he replied, after only a momentary hesitation: "I thought you knew, dearest.I am twenty-seven."
"Well," said Jane slowly and deliberately, "I am thirty; and I look thirty-five, and feel forty.You are twenty-seven, Dal, and you look nineteen, and often feel nine.I have been thinking it over, and--you know--I cannot marry a mere boy."
Silence--absolute.
In sheer terror Jane forced herself to look at him.He was white to the lips.His face was very stern and calm--a strange, stony calmness.There was not much youth in it just then."ANOINT ANDCHEER OUR SOILED FACE"--The silent church seemed to wail the words in bewildered agony.
At last he spoke."I had not thought of myself," he said slowly."Icannot explain how it comes to pass, but I have not thought of myself at all, since my mind has been full of you.Therefore I had not realised how little there is in me that you could care for.Ibelieved you had felt as I did, that we were--just each other's."For a moment he put out his hand as if he would have touched her.
Then it dropped heavily to his side."You are quite right," he said.
"You could not marry any one whom you consider a mere boy."He turned from her and faced up the chancel.For the space of a long silent minute he looked at the window over the holy table, where hung the suffering Christ.Then he bowed his head."I accept the cross," he said, and, turning, walked quietly down the aisle.The church door opened, closed behind him with a heavy clang, and Jane was alone.
She stumbled back to the seat she had left, and fell upon her knees.
"O, my God," she cried, "send him back to me, oh, send him back!...Oh, Garth! It is I who am plain and unattractive and unworthy, not you.Oh, Garth--come back! come back! come back!...
I will trust and not be afraid...Oh, my own Dear--come back!"She listened, with straining ears.She waited, until every nerve of her body ached with suspense.She decided what she would say when the heavy door reopened and she saw Garth standing in a shaft of sunlight.She tried to remember the VENI, but the hollow clang of the door had silenced even memory's echo of that haunting music.So she waited silently, and as she waited the silence grew and seemed to enclose her within cruel, relentless walls which opened only to allow her glimpses into the vista of future lonely years.Just once more she broke that silence."Oh, darling, come back! I WILL RISKIT," she said.But no step drew near, and, kneeling with her face buried in her clasped hands, Jane suddenly realised that Garth Dalmain had accepted her decision as final and irrevocable, and would not return.
How long she knelt there after realising this, she never knew.But at last comfort came to her.She felt she had done right.A few hours of present anguish were better than years of future disillusion.Her own life would be sadly empty, and losing this newly found joy was costing her more than she had expected; but she honestly believed "she had done rightly towards him, and what did her own pain matter?" Thus comfort came to Jane.
At last she rose and passed out of the silent church into the breezy sunshine.
Near the park gates a little knot of excited boys were preparing to fly a kite.Jimmy, the hero of the hour, the centre of attraction, proved to be the proud possessor of this new kite.Jimmy was finding the day glorious indeed, and was being happy."Happy ALSO," Garth had said.And Jane's eyes filled with tears, as she remembered the word and the tone in which it was spoken.
"There goes my poor boy's shilling," she said to herself sadly, as the kite mounted and soared above the common;" but, alas, where is his joy?"As she passed up the avenue a dog-cart was driven swiftly down it.
Garth Dalmain drove it; behind him a groom and a portmanteau.He lifted his hat as he passed her, but looked straight before him.In a moment he was gone.Had Jane wanted to stop him she could not have done so.But she did not want to stop him.She felt absolutely satisfied that she had done the right thing, and done it at greater cost to herself than to him.He would eventually--ah, perhaps before so very long--find another to be to him all, and more than all, he had believed she could be.But she? The dull ache at her bosom reminded her of her own words the night before, whispered in the secret of her chamber to him who, alas, was not there to hear:
"Whatever the future brings for you and me, no other face will ever be hidden here." And, in this first hour of the coming lonely years, she knew them to be true.
In the hall she met Pauline Lister.
"Is that you, Miss Champion?" said Pauline."Well now, have you heard of Mr.Dalmain? He has had to go to town unexpectedly, on the 1.15 train; and aunt has dropped her false teeth on her marble wash-stand and must get to the dentist right away.So we go to town on the 2.30.It's an uncertain world.It complicates one's plans, when they have to depend on other people's teeth.But I would sooner break false teeth than true hearts, any day.One can get the former mended, but I guess no one can mend the latter.We are lunching early in our rooms; so I wish you good-by, Miss Champion."
