A Damsel in Distress - P. G. Wodehouse (best books to read for young adults .TXT) 📗

apoplexy, while they were in Manchester on a business trip.” She paused. “He left Geoffrey all his money,” she went on. “Every penny.”

The silence seemed to stretch out interminably. The music from the castle had ceased. The quiet of the summer night was unbroken. To George the stillness had a touch of the sinister. It was the ghastly silence of the end of the world. With a shock he realized that even now he had been permitting himself to hope, futile as he recognized the hope to be. Maud had told him she loved another man. That should have been final. And yet somehow his indomitable subconscious self had refused to accept it as final. But this news ended everything. The only obstacle that had held Maud and this man apart was removed. There was nothing to prevent them marrying. George was conscious of a vast depression. The last strand of the rope had parted, and he was drifting alone out into the ocean of desolation.

“Oh!” he said, and was surprised that his voice sounded very much the same as usual. Speech was so difficult that it seemed strange that it should show no signs of effort. “That alters everything, doesn’t it.”

“He said in his letter that he wanted me to meet him in London and⁠—talk things over, I suppose.”

“There’s nothing now to prevent your going. I mean, now that your father has made this announcement, you are free to go where you please.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

There was another silence.

“Everything’s so difficult,” said Maud.

“In what way?”

“Oh, I don’t know.”

“If you are thinking of me,” said George, “please don’t. I know exactly what you mean. You are hating the thought of hurting my feelings. I wish you would look on me as having no feelings. All I want is to see you happy. As I said just now, it’s enough for me to know that I’ve helped you. Do be reasonable about it. The fact that our engagement has been officially announced makes no difference in our relations to each other. As far as we two are concerned, we are exactly where we were the last time we met. It’s no worse for me now than it was then to know that I’m not the man you love, and that there’s somebody else you loved before you ever knew of my existence. For goodness’ sake, a girl like you must be used to having men tell her that they love her and having to tell them that she can’t love them in return.”

“But you’re so different.”

“Not a bit of it. I’m just one of the crowd.”

“I’ve never known anybody quite like you.”

“Well, you’ve never known anybody quite like Plummer, I should imagine. But the thought of his sufferings didn’t break your heart.”

“I’ve known a million men exactly like Edwin Plummer,” said Maud emphatically. “All the men I ever have known have been like him⁠—quite nice and pleasant and negative. It never seemed to matter refusing them. One knew that they would be just a little bit piqued for a week or two and then wander off and fall in love with somebody else. But you’re different. You⁠ ⁠… matter.”

“That is where we disagree. My argument is that, where your happiness is concerned, I don’t matter.”

Maud rested her chin on her hand, and stared out into the velvet darkness.

“You ought to have been my brother instead of Percy,” she said at last. “What chums we should have been! And how simple that would have made everything!”

“The best thing for you to do is to regard me as an honorary brother. That will make everything simple.”

“It’s easy to talk like that⁠ ⁠… No, it isn’t. It’s horribly hard. I know exactly how difficult it is for you to talk as you have been doing⁠—to try to make me feel better by pretending the whole trouble is just a trifle⁠ ⁠… It’s strange⁠ ⁠… We have only met really for a few minutes at a time, and three weeks ago I didn’t know there was such a person as you, but somehow I seem to know everything you’re thinking. I’ve never felt like that before with any man⁠ ⁠… Even Geoffrey⁠ ⁠… He always puzzled me.⁠ ⁠…”

She broke off. The corncrake began to call again out in the distance.

“I wish I knew what to do,” she said with a catch in her voice.

“I’ll tell you in two words what to do. The whole thing is absurdly simple. You love this man and he loves you, and all that kept you apart before was the fact that he could not afford to marry you. Now that he is rich, there is no obstacle at all. I simply won’t let you look on me and my feelings as an obstacle. Rule me out altogether. Your father’s mistake has made the situation a little more complicated than it need have been, but that can easily be remedied. Imitate the excellent example of Reggie Byng. He was in a position where it would have been embarrassing to announce what he intended to do, so he very sensibly went quietly off and did it and left everybody to find out after it was done. I’m bound to say I never looked on Reggie as a master mind, but, when it came to find a way out of embarrassing situations, one has to admit he had the right idea. Do what he did!”

Maud started. She half rose from the stone seat. George could hear the quick intake of her breath.

“You mean⁠—run away?”

“Exactly. Run away!”

An automobile swung round the corner of the castle from the direction of the garage, and drew up, purring, at the steps. There was a flood of light and the sound of voices, as the great door opened. Maud rose.

“People are leaving,” she said. “I didn’t know it was so late.” She stood irresolutely. “I suppose I ought to go in and say goodbye. But I don’t think I can.”

“Stay where you are. Nobody will see you.”

More automobiles arrived. The quiet of the