The Jalna Saga – Deluxe Edition: All Sixteen Books of the Enduring Classic Series & The Biography of Mazo de la Roche (512 page)

“She will have to wait for her lunch till he has gone,” said Althea. “Go to the door, Garda.”

Althea nerved herself to remain in the room. She smiled at him and offered her hand. He clasped it warmly in his.

“And how is everything with my dear little girls?” he asked.

“Splendid,” answered Garda. “Gem had a good night. This morning she took three steps. It’s wonderful to see her. But she gets so excited.”

“I hope you two hold her up carefully.”

“Indeed we do. We’re more anxious than she is. She’s ready to try anything.”

His face beamed. “Ready to try anything,” he repeated. “She’s a little heroine. May I go up?”

He had been to see her every day in the hospital. Now that she was home again his possessive air in the three sisters was marked. With them he had shared anxiety, suspense, and the wonder of a cure that seemed miraculous. Garda led him upstairs to the room where, dressed in a light blue dressing gown, Gemmel lay on a couch. She looked up at them with a smile.

“Good afternoon, my dear.” Eugene Clapperton took her hand and raised it to his lips. “I hear good accounts of you. You had a restful night and you have taken three steps.”

“I would have taken a dozen,” she said, “if those sisters of mine had not been so nervous.”

“Ah, but we must be careful of you. You are a very precious person. Isn’t she, Garda?”

“She’ll soon be a very independent person,” returned Garda. She was conscious that he wanted to be left alone with Gemmel. So, after a moment’s lingering in the room, she went downstairs to her housework.

“what sweet girls your sisters are!” said Eugene Clapperton. “They are devoted to you. But — aren’t we all?”

She regarded him with a strange mixture of gratitude and wariness. “what you have done for me is beyond my understanding,” she said. “You have the kindest, most generous heart in the world.”

“Enough of that,” he interrupted. “You know very well that I don’t want gratitude from you. Only friendship and a little — yes, for the
present,
a little love.”

He gave an embarrassed laugh.

“We all love you!” she exclaimed. “We love you — like a —”

He interrupted, — “Don’t say like a father, Gem. Don’t say that.”

“Never. We love you like our best, our dearest friend.”

He settled himself in a chair by her side. “Tell me,” he said, “what you feel like when you stand on your two feet like other people, when you look right into people’s faces, instead of up at them.”

“It is such a new experience, it will take me a while to get used to it. Then, there are those who are supporting me. When they let go of me, stop being fussy over me, then I shall realize it.”

“But you are happy, Gem?”

He again took her hand, and stroked it. “You know it’s my nature to want everyone about me to be happy. Even to be happier because of my existence. I’m an idealist. I dream of happiness in a miserable world. But this morning I had a shock. Colonel Whiteoak called on me. He made himself very disagreeable about my village. He was insulting. I don’t think I’ve ever met a more detestable man.” A hard look came into his eyes. “But insults have no effect on me. I’ll go on with my building. I’ll make him look small in this community.”

She smiled, she could not help it.

“You may smile,” he exclaimed. “But just give me time. Give Clappertown time. We’ll make him look small. When I get an idea in my head, Gem, I can think of little else. I have had the ideal village as my goal. My only other thoughts have been of you. But, by jingo, you’ve pretty nearly liquidated the village sometimes, you little scamp.”

Life had offered Gemmel Griffith so little. It had not even given her the power of standing upright. She had always been forced to raise her eyes to other people, as though she were a being of inferior order but now, now she could rise on her own two legs and soon would be able to walk. And here was this wealthy man, the man who had poured out his good money for her recovery, calling her a little scamp with an air there was no mistaking. She had a sudden, half-mad desire to domineer over Eugene Clapperton, even while her heart was overflowing in gratitude to him. But gratitude was really against her nature. She had never been grateful to her sisters. The thought of being grateful for the rest of her days to Eugene Clapperton made her angry. She wished she could do something tremendous for him — pay him off and have done with it.

“Call me Eugene,” he was saying. “I’d love to hear my name on your lips.”

“Eugene,” she repeated obediently and prayed that Garda might come with her tray. “It’s a pretty name,” she added, reaching for succour in that direction. “Do tell me how you came to get it.”

He liked to talk of himself. He told her how his mother had liked the name Eugene, and his father had liked the name Robert; so he had been called Eugene Robert. He never took his eyes from her face. She thought, “Has this look in his eyes something to do with my being like other women now? I’ve never seen the look before — I do wish Garda would come.”

“And your name,” he was saying. “How did you get your dear name?”

“Oh, my mother was determined to give us unusual names. That was all. Much better, I think, to have been Elizabeth and Ann and Jane.”

“My little Gem,” he whispered hoarsely.

Garda came in with the tray. A little frown from Gemmel detained her and, looking at his watch and seeing how late it was, Mr. Clapperton left, promising to call again the next day.

“Don’t give me my tray. I couldn’t eat a bite.”

Garda looked frightened. “Are you ill, Gem?”

“No. Not ill. But —” She flung out her arm, then laid it across her eyes. “I’m so disturbed. Mr. Clapperton has been trying to tell me he loves me.”

“Really! Oh, Gem! How thrilling! You’ve always been on the lookout for lovers for Althea and me, and now — almost before —” she hesitated.

“Go on.”

“Almost before you’re quite well you have one of your own.”

“I know how Althea feels.”

“Shy, you mean?”

She uncovered her eyes. “No, not shy. Just terrified.”

“But he’s so kind. Think what he’s done for you. And for us through you. If you spent the rest of your life trying to repay him you scarcely could do it.”

“I know.”

“He’s done a miracle for us.”

“Yes. Like Christ. And I’d be willing to think of him like that.”

“Do you think he wants to marry you?”

“I suspect it. Picture me getting married!”

“Gem, he’s terribly rich. He must be or he couldn’t do the things he does.”

“I love worldly possessions. I’ve always hankered for them.”

“You could have
everything
, Gem.”

“So could you and Althea. That is what excites me ... Oh, why did this happen? And before I can take two steps alone!” She broke into sobs, covering her face with her hands.

Garda knelt beside the sofa and took her sister in her arms. “You needn’t see him, if you don’t want to. He’s often said he doesn’t ask for gratitude. Come, let me dry your eyes.”

Gemmel controlled herself. “Give me the tray,” she said.

“That’s a good girl. You must eat and grow strong. And, when all is said and done, it’s rather nice to think that you’ve captivated a rich widower — with positively no effort. Think what you could do if you
tried
.” She arranged the tray in front of her sister.

Gemmel laughed through her tears and began hungrily to eat. “I’ll write and tell Molly. What fun to tell her! You must leave that to me.”

“Now you talk like yourself. Be a good girl and eat up every crumb.”

Remembering some dish she had left on the stove she hastened downstairs. Closing the door of the kitchen behind her she faced Althea.

“what do you suppose?”

“what?”

“Mr. Clapperton has been being sweet on Gem.”

“She imagines it. You know what Gem is for imagining things. What did he say to her?”

“I didn’t ask her.”

“Then you don’t really know.”

“I could tell by the way she looked. She was excited. Oh, Althea, if she really and truly recovers, and if she would marry Mr. Clapperton, what a different life we’d have!”

“I ask nothing better than the life I have.”

“With Gem an invalid?”

“Gem never was an invalid. She’s always been well — except that she couldn’t walk.
I’ve
never thought of her as a burden.”

“Neither have I.”

“I’ve loved caring for her. She’s been like my child. Just like my little child.”

“I know. I know. But think of her as well and rich — with nothing impossible to her.”

“Is she eating her lunch?”

“Yes.”

“I shall take her a glass of wine.”

“All right. I’ll get the cigarettes.”

They went up to Gemmel’s room, doing their best to look natural. Certainly she now did. She lighted a cigarette and looked through the wine toward the window. “Eugene’s wine,” she said.

“Goodness,” said Althea, “do you call him Eugene?”

“I may as well begin.”

Althea said solemnly, “Gem, I want you to put the thought of that man out of your head.”

“what! Never think of my benefactor?”

“Never, except as a benefactor.”

“Althea, would you marry him if he asked you?”

“I’d die first,” she answered passionately.

“Ah, he’s not Finch, is he?”

Althea turned away her face.

“Gardie, would you marry him?”

“Marry him? Let him give me the chance.”

“Just for greed?”

“I’m not thinking only of myself. Picture what I could do for you and Althea.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it?” She lay, launching one tremulous smoke ring after another on the air, for no one could make them like she could.

The screams of one of the Jalna dogs, in anguish of spirit as he chased a rabbit but could not overtake it, came through the open window, then died away, leaving only the vague sweet murmurings of late summer.

GRANDMOTHER’S ROOM

A
DELINE CAME TO
where Renny sat in the porch, the rain trickling noisily from the eave, the east wind blowing the long tendrils of Virginia Creeper that, because of its luxuriant covering of the porch, could find no foothold. She put her arms round him from behind and kissed him with demonstrative affection.

“There’s something I want most terribly to do,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to do it ever since you came home.”

His eyes turned toward hers that were so close. “Then why haven’t you asked before? You are not usually so diffident.”

“But this is something very special. I’m sort of afraid to ask.”

“Out with it. If I refuse, I refuse.”

She drew a deep breath. “Very well. It’s this. All the while you were away I slept in your room. I wanted to sleep there more than anywhere. But now you’re home I have to share a room with Roma. I want a room of my own and you’ll never guess what room I want.”

He stared. “what room?”

“I want Granny’s room. I want Granny’s room for my own — if you’ll let me.”

He drew her in front of him and set her on his knee.

“Are you actually telling me that you have the wish to sleep alone in that queer old room? You couldn’t change things about, you know.”

“I don’t want to change them about. I want it just as it is.”

“And you have the cheek to ask for it? what do you suppose the uncles will say?”

“Must it be as they say?”

“Well, she was their mother.”

“But it’s your house.”

“No. It must be as they say. We’ll go and ask them what they think of the idea. Come along.”

He sprang up, eager to tell his uncles what Adeline had suggested. He was full of pride in her.

They left the front door open behind them. The wet cool air flooded the house. The dogs followed them up the stairs. The door of Nicholas’ room stood wide. Ernest was in there with him and they were going through old letters.

“Come in, come in,” said Nicholas, pulling off his spectacles. “Come in and sit down. Ernest and I are destroying old letters. The time has come to go over them. Some of them had better not be read by posterity, eh, Ernest?” He picked up the little Cairn and set him on his knee.

“Get off those letters, Roger, you brute,” said Ernest, pushing the sheepdog from the neatly arranged piles on the floor near his chair.

“Now here is a letter,” said Nicholas, “written to me by my mother, after she had first met Mary Wakefield and found that Philip wanted to marry her. Not the sort of letter that Piers or Finch or Wake should read.”

“Let me have it,” said Renny, holding out his hand, “I’d like to read a letter from her.”

“You’ll destroy it afterward?”

“Yes.”

Nicholas handed it over. “what a racy vocabulary my mother had!”

“Now here is a letter …” said Ernest.

“Adeline and I would like to interrupt you, just for a moment,” put in Renny. “We have a proposition to make.”

The two old men looked at him enquiringly, Ernest still clutching a handful of Roger’s topknot, for the sheepdog wanted to sit nowhere but on the pile of letters.

“what sort of proposition?” asked Nicholas pulling one of Adeline’s curls. “I hope it’s a proposition to make less noise over my head in the early morning.”

“That’s just it,” she cried eagerly. “There will be much less noise — if only you’ll let me do it.”

“Do what?”

“Tell him, Daddy.”

Renny grinned at his uncle. “She wants to sleep in Gran’s room. Have it for her own. That’s what she wants.”

“Not really?”

“Yes. And for my part I think it a good idea.”

Ernest held his chin in his hand pondering. He gripped his own chin and Roger’s topknot and thought deeply. “My mother’s room,” he said, and repeated, “My mother’s room.”

“She’d sleep there,” exclaimed Nicholas, “in that old, painted leather bed, with that old furniture —”

“She’d ruin it,” interrupted Ernest, “in no time!”

“No, I’d not, Uncle Ernest,” cried Adeline. “I’d take the very best care of it. I’d polish it and it wouldn’t be shut away and dusty, the way it is now. Only once a fortnight does Mrs. Wragge go in and draw a dust cloth across the tables. And I’m Great-grandmother’s namesake and I’m the image of her. I believe she’d be pleased, don’t you?”