Sad Cypress Read Online Free PDF Page B

would be married quite soon—that is, if Elinor wanted to; perhaps she’d rather put it off for a bit. He mustn’t rush her. They’d be a bit hard up at first. Nothing to worry about, though. He hoped sincerely that Aunt Laura wouldn’t die for a long time to come. She was a dear and had always been nice to him, having him there for holidays, always interested in what he was doing.
    His mind shied away from the thought of her actual death (his mind usually did shy away from any concrete unpleasantness). He didn’t like to visualize anything unpleasant too clearly… But—er—afterwards—well, it would be very pleasant to live here, especially as there would be plenty of money to keep it up. He wonderedexactly how his aunt had left it. Not that it really mattered. With some women it would matter a good deal whether husband or wife had the money. But not with Elinor. She had plenty of tact and she didn’t care enough about money to make too much of it.
    He thought: “No, there’s nothing to worry about—whatever happens!”
    He went out of the walled garden by the gate at the far end. From there he wandered into the little wood where the daffodils were in spring. They were over now, of course. But the green light was very lovely where the sunlight came filtering through the trees.
    Just for a moment an odd restlessness came to him—a rippling of his previous placidity. He felt: “There’s something—something I haven’t got—something I want—I want—I want….”
    The golden green light, the softness in the air—with them came a quickened pulse, a stirring of the blood, a sudden impatience.
    A girl came through the trees towards him—a girl with pale, gleaming hair and a rose-flushed skin.
    He thought, “How beautiful—how unutterably beautiful.”
    Something gripped him; he stood quite still, as though frozen into immobility. The world, he felt, was spinning, was topsy-turvy, was suddenly and impossibly and gloriously crazy!
    The girl stopped suddenly, then she came on. She came up to him where he stood, dumb and absurdly fishlike, his mouth open.
    She said with a little hesitation:
    â€œDon’t you remember me, Mr. Roderick? It’s a long time of course. I’m Mary Gerrard, from the lodge.”
    Roddy said:
    â€œOh—oh—you’re Mary Gerrard?”
    She said: “Yes.”
    Then she went on rather shyly:
    â€œI’ve changed, of course, since you saw me.”
    He said: “Yes, you’ve changed. I—I wouldn’t have recognized you.”
    He stood staring at her. He did not hear footsteps behind him. Mary did and turned.
    Elinor stood motionless a minute. Then she said:
    â€œHello, Mary.”
    Mary said:
    â€œHow do you do, Miss Elinor? It’s nice to see you. Mrs. Welman has been looking forward to you coming down.”
    Elinor said:
    â€œYes—it’s a long time. I—Nurse O’Brien sent me to look for you. She wants to lift Mrs. Welman up, and she says you usually do it with her.”
    Mary said: “I’ll go at once.”
    She moved off, breaking into a run. Elinor stood looking after her. Mary ran well, grace in every movement.
    Roddy said softly: “Atalanta…”
    Elinor did not answer. She stood quite still for a minute or two. Then she said:
    â€œIt’s nearly lunchtime. We’d better go back.”
    They walked side by side towards the house.
    V
    â€œOh! Come on, Mary. It’s Garbo, and a grand film—all about Paris. And a story by a tiptop author. There was an opera of it once.”
    â€œIt’s frightfully nice of you, Ted, but I really won’t.”
    Ted Bigland said angrily:
    â€œI can’t make you out nowadays, Mary. You’re different—altogether different.”
    â€œNo, I’m not, Ted.”
    â€œYou are! I suppose because you’ve been away to that grand school