Return to Jalna. Mazo de la Roche

than to clean their stalls but put the farm horses in his care, with many injunctions as to feeding.

      A few days after his coming the weather turned bitterly cold. The new man gave ice-cold water to the horses to drink and one of them, a handsome Clydesdale mare, took a chill. All that Wright and the veterinary could do to save her failed and the next day she lay, a mountain of solid flesh, dead in her stall. Wright did not bring the bad news to Alayne but entrusted it to Wragge who told it with the air of one bringing tidings of a national disaster. She was greatly distressed and felt in this misfortune some sinister negligence on the part of Wright — a cruel desire to get even with her.

      Now Wragge stood before her, his hands clasped on his stomach, an almost clerical look on his face. He was saying:

      “I think we shall just ’ave to put our pride in our pocket, ma’am, and let Wright stay on. ’E understands the ’orses and the ’orses understand ’im. These ’ere fellers you engage ’ap’azard, they’re no good.”

      She stood silent, twisting her fingers together.

      Wragge went on, “Dear knows what disaster will come next, if this feller stays on.”

      Adeline entered the hall from the side door. Her eyes were swollen from crying. She said, in a choking voice:

      “How can I tell Daddy! Whatever will he say!”

      “You had better go up to your room, dear,” said Alayne.

      “Ow,” put in Wragge, “she’s ’eartbroken — just like I am!”

      Alayne said, “You may tell Wright to come and I will see him here.”

      She did see him and, in a controlled voice, revoked her decision to discharge him. The new man was sent away. But all this did not bring back the grand Clydesdale and Alayne’s heart was heavy.

      But the house was far from gloomy. Finch and Wakefield were happy in being once again at Jalna (even though Wakefield’s time there would be short). Since Sarah’s marriage, Finch felt a new freedom. He was done with that phase of his life — done with it! Never again would those slender arms wind themselves about his neck as though to suffocate him, never again those narrow eyes, set like jewels in the head, discharge their cold passion into his soul. He had seen the last of Sarah, the very last. If ever again he loved a woman, and he doubted that, it would be a woman, normal — yes, absolutely normal — equable, one who knew neither ecstasies nor despairs but mild temperatures, like settled May weather.

      He and Wakefield had had their disappointments, he in his marriage, Wakefield in his broken engagement. He had been engaged to Molly Griffith whose stepsisters now lived at the fox farm but it had been necessary, because of a tragic circumstance, to forego the marriage. That had been four years ago. In the bitter months at the first, Wakefield had hardened into manhood. He had an imperious way with him which took the place of his former air of a spoilt boy. He was animated; he was gay but he had within him the memory of the bliss that had borne no fruit. In their attitude toward money, the brothers were a complete contrast. When Finch had been possessed of a fortune, he had lent or given it away with scarcely a thought. He had seen Sarah’s wealth depart with her, with only relief. Now that he had little money it did not at all trouble him. He liked old clothes, he liked old possessions. He had given much of what he had made in his concert tours to war charities.

      Wakefield, on the other hand, had inherited the extravagant tastes of both Courts and Whiteoaks. He liked spending money for the sheer exhilaration of spending it. He enjoyed acquiring anything new, from a thoroughbred to a pair of shoes. Old possessions depressed him, with the strong exception of Jalna and its furnishings. To him these retained their lustre unimpaired. During his short leave he constantly caused concern to Finch, vexed Alayne, delighted the children, half-worried, half-gratified the uncles, by the manner in which he threw money about — when he could lay hands on it. He reminded Nicholas and Ernest pleasurably of their own spendthrift youth, though his expenditures were insignificant compared to theirs. Now he seldom was with them for long without getting money out of them on one pretext or another. He was able even to get something from Meg. Poor boy, she would think, he may never come back to us again! The things he thought he needed were amazing, and he would store these away in his room against the time of his return. In a curious way it made him more sure that he would return, to have all these possessions awaiting him.

      Finch several times had urged Wakefield to go with him to see the Griffith girls at the fox farm. Wakefield had refused because of his last painful meeting there with Molly, but now, on this dark afternoon in early winter, he consented.

      There was light snow on the ground as the brothers crossed the ravine. Through it showed the brown leaves and the rough brown grass.

      The brown stream hurried past tiny snow-mounded islands and, stalking by himself in lonely masculine grandeur, was a cock pheasant, his wide blue collar bright as though burnished.

      The three sisters were sitting by the fire in the living room when the knock sounded on the door. Althea swiftly gathered up the sketch she was making; Gemmel closed the book she was reading aloud; Garda suspended her knitting needles. So apart was their life that a knock at the door was enough to send them into confusion.

      “For heaven’s sake, see who it is!” whispered Althea to Garda who flew to peep between curtains.

      “It’s Finch and Wakefield Whiteoak!” she exclaimed, getting scarlet.

      “Sh!” hissed Gemmel. “Fetch my lipstick — quick!” She had lately taken to using lipstick which neither of the others did. She took a small comb from her pocket and began to comb her dense dark hair. In spite of the affliction that cut her off from the pursuits of other young people, she thought more of her personal appearance than either of her sisters.

      Garda flew noiselessly upstairs and brought back the lipstick which Gemmel lavishly applied. The knock sounded again. Althea was gliding from the room. Gemmel caught her by the skirt.

      “Let me go!” Althea whispered fiercely.

      “No! You mustn’t. They’ll think it strange if you don’t show up.”

      “Tell them I’m ill.” Her beautiful wan face was flushed by colour. “Let me go, Gemmel!” But Garda had already opened the door. She greeted Wakefield as an old friend, for he had visited them in Wales. But Althea’s lips barely moved in a soundless greeting.

      Garda ran to put the kettle on. Finch seated himself where he could look at Althea.

      “Been sketching?” he asked.

      She inclined her head.

      “She’s been doing the loveliest trees,” said Gemmel, “but you may be sure she won’t show you. If I had a talent I’d love to show off.”

      “You have a talent,” said Wakefield. “I remember how splendidly you recited in Wales. I thought then you’d make an actress if —”

      “If!” she cried, with an expressive gesture of her flexible hands. “It’s always if with me. And always will be. Oh, if I could lead the life Molly does!”

      “How is Molly?” asked Wakefield.

      “Flying between New York and Hollywood. She hasn’t had a big success yet. For one thing, she’s too thin to photograph well.” She poured out the tale of the plays Molly had been in and what parts she had had. Althea marvelled at her, for she could say nothing. Wakefield hungrily drank in all this news of the stage, wondering if ever he would act again.

      Garda brought in the tea tray, bent double under its weight for she had loaded it with all the cakes and scones she could find, to say nothing of buttered toast and fruit loaf. Wakefield sprang to help her. They gathered about the table, all but Althea talking. She kept thinking of things to say and how she would say them, coolly or laughingly, as her sisters might speak, but before she could bring herself to utter them, the conversation had turned to another subject, the chance was gone. Finch’s hands fascinated her and the way he used them but she never let her eyes meet his.

      Tea