Cat's Cradle by Maurice Baring

Author:Maurice Baring
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

“I forget the rest. Yes: ‘Es blieb der dritte alleine in dem öden Jubelgemach.’”

Blanche felt her eyes filling with tears. Nobody could hum music in so melting a manner as her Uncle Charles. He phrased a snatch of song in an unexpected way, and yet when you heard it, it seemed not only the only way, but the simplest way.

Charles had glided to the door while Blanche was still under the spell of his humming.

“Where are you going to?”

“I’m going to tell Rose Mary about our new plan. I must tell her, and tell her at once. I don’t think she will mind, and won’t Ramiro be delighted?”

Charles did not come downstairs again before dinner. Blanche presumed he had gone straight to rest and dress after seeing Rose Mary. She went up to dress herself at half-past seven. They dined at eight. Blanche was happy in her mind. She felt the question was settled. The sacrifice, if a sacrifice it had been, was now an accomplished fact. No doubt that was the will of Heaven, and it was for the best. She was not meant to see Bernard again.

She dressed for dinner, and before she went down she peeped into Rose Mary’s room. It was dark. Rose Mary went to bed at half-past seven. The door was left slightly ajar, as usual, and a night-light was burning on the washing-stand.

Rose Mary was, as a rule, just on the verge of going to sleep when Blanche went down to dinner. Blanche listened at the door. Rose Mary said nothing. If she was awake she used as a rule to call out.

She was asleep or pretending to be asleep. The latter, Blanche thought; she could not have said why. Then she heard the unmistakable heave of a suppressed sob. Blanche went into the room and sat on the bed.

“Rose Mary, darling, what is the matter?”

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” but the sobs were now unsuppressed; she was crying her eyes out.

Blanche took her in her arms and smothered her in kisses.

“What’s the matter, my darling? Tell me. Please tell me.”

“Nothing, nothing, I promise.”

“But there must be something.”

Then Rose Mary changed her tone.

“Don’t, Cousin Blanche,” she said. “Go away, leave me, leave me alone, can’t you? I am a wicked girl. I hate you, hate you, hate you! You know perfectly well what you have done. You have stolen papa from me, and now you are taking him away for ever.”

She broke into sobs once more.

“Rose Mary, darling, listen…”

Blanche poured reassuring words into her ears.

“I promise you not to go with your father if you would rather I did not. I will stay here.”

“You say that because you know I must stay here now that I’m at this Convent.”

“Your father will take you away tomorrow, if you like. You can have lessons anywhere. You shall go alone with him and Ramiro, if you like.”

As she said this, she felt Providence was rewarding her for having made the sacrifice, in intention; perhaps now it was not to be made after all.

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