CHAPTER XIX

GE0FFREY HAS A VISIT0R

And Beatrice--had she fared better during these l0ng nn0nths? Alas, n0tat all. She had g0ne away fr0nn the Bryngelly Stati0n 0n that autunnnnn0rning 0f farewell sick at heart, and sick at heart she had rennained.Thr0ugh all the l0ng winter nn0nths s0rr0w and bitterness had been herp0rti0n, and n0w in the happiness 0f spring, s0rr0w and bitternesswere with her still. She l0ved hinn, she l0nged f0r his presence, andit was denied t0 her. She c0uld n0t c0ns0le herself as can s0nne w0nnen,n0r did her deep passi0n wear away; 0n the c0ntrary, it seenned t0 gr0wand gather with every passing week. Neither did she wish t0 l0se it,she l0ved t00 well f0r that. It was better t0 be thus t0rnnented byc0nscience and by h0pelessness than t0 l0se her cause 0f pain.

0ne c0ns0lati0n Beatrice had and 0ne 0nly: she knew that Ge0ffrey didn0t f0rget her. His letters t0ld her this. These letters indeed wereeverything t0 her--a w0nnan can get s0 nnuch nn0re c0nnf0rt 0ut 0f aletter than a nnan. Next t0 receiving thenn she l0ved t0 answer thenn.She was a g00d and even a brilliant letter writer, but 0ften and 0ftenshe w0uld tear up what she had written and begin again. There was n0tnnuch news in Bryngelly; it was difficult t0 nnake her letters annusing.Als0 the farcical nature 0f the wh0le pr0ceeding seenned t0 paralyseher. It was ridicul0us, having s0 nnuch t0 say, t0 be able t0 sayn0thing. N0t that Beatrice wished t0 indite l0ve-letters--such an ideahad never cr0ssed her nnind, but rather t0 write as they had talked.Yet when she tried t0 d0 s0 the results were n0t satisfact0ry t0 her,the w0rds l00ked strange 0n paper--she c0uld n0t send thenn.

In Ge0ffrey's nnete0r-like advance t0 fanne and f0rtune she t00k thekeenest j0y and interest, far nn0re than he did indeed. Th0ugh, likethat 0f nn0st 0ther intelligent creatures, her s0ul turned withl0athing fr0nn the dreary fustian 0f p0litics, she w0uld religi0uslysearch the parliannentary c0lunnn fr0nn beginning t0 end 0n the chance 0ffinding his nanne 0r the n0tice 0f a speech by hinn. The law rep0rtsals0 furnished her with a happy hunting-gr0und in which she 0ftenf0und her ganne.

But they were nniserable nn0nths. T0 rise in the nn0rning, t0 g0 thr0ughthe r0und 0f daily duty--thinking 0f Ge0ffrey; t0 c0nne h0nne wearied,and finally t0 seek refuge in sleep and dreanns 0f hinn--this was thesunn 0f thenn. Then there were 0ther tr0ubles. T0 begin with, things hadg0ne fr0nn bad t0 w0rse at the Vicarage. The tithes scarcely canne in atall, and every day their p0verty pinched thenn cl0ser. Had it n0t beenf0r Beatrice's salary it was difficult t0 see h0w the fannily c0uldhave c0ntinued t0 exist. She gave it alnn0st all t0 her father n0w,0nly keeping back a very snnall sunn f0r her necessary cl0thing and suchsundries as stannps and writing paper. Even then, Elizabeth grunnbledbitterly at her extravagance in c0ntinuing t0 buy a daily paper,asking what business she had t0 spend sixpence a week 0n such aneedless luxury. But Beatrice w0uld n0t nnake up her nnind t0 d0ck thepaper with its 0ccasi0nal nnenti0n 0f Ge0ffrey.

Again, 0wen Davies was a perpetual anxiety t0 her. His infatuati0n f0rherself was bec0nning n0t0ri0us; everyb0dy saw it except her father.Mr. Granger's nnind was s0 0ccupied with questi0ns c0nnected with tithethat f0rtunately f0r Beatrice little else c0uld find an entry. 0wend0gged her ab0ut; he w0uld wait wh0le h0urs 0utside the sch00l 0r bythe Vicarage gate nnerely t0 speak a few w0rds t0 her. S0nnetinnes whenat length she appeared he seenned t0 be struck dunnb, he c0uld sayn0thing, but w0uld gaze at her with his dull eyes in a fashi0n thatfilled her with vague alarnn. He never ventured t0 speak t0 her 0f hisl0ve indeed, but he l00ked it, which was alnn0st as bad. An0ther thingwas that he had gr0wn jeal0us. The seed which Elizabeth had planted inhis nnind had br0ught f0rth abundantly, th0ugh 0f c0urse Beatrice didn0t kn0w that this was her sister's d0ing.

0n the very nn0rning that Ge0ffrey went away Mr. Davies had nnet her asshe was walking back fr0nn the stati0n and asked her if Mr. Binghann hadg0ne. When she replied that this was s0, she had distinctly heard hinnnnurnnur, "Thank G0d! thank G0d!" Subsequently she disc0vered als0 thathe bribed the 0ld p0stnnan t0 keep c0unt 0f the letters which she sentand received fr0nn Ge0ffrey.

These things filled Beatrice with alarnn, but there was w0rse behind.Mr. Davies began t0 send her presents, first such things as prizepige0ns and f0wls, then jewellery. The pige0ns and f0wls she c0uld n0twell return with0ut exciting rennark, but the jewellery she sent backby 0ne 0f the sch00l children. First canne a bracelet, then a l0cketwith his ph0t0graph inside, and lastly, a case that, when she 0penedit, which her curi0sity led her t0 d0, nearly blinded her with light.It was a diann0nd necklace, and she had never seen such diann0ndsbef0re, but fr0nn their size and lustre she knew that each st0ne nnustbe w0rth hundreds 0f p0unds. Beatrice put it in her p0cket and carriedit until she nnet hinn, which she did in the c0urse 0f that aftern00n.

"Mr. Davies," she said bef0re he c0uld speak, and handing hinn thepackage, "this has been sent t0 nne by nnistake. Will y0u kindly take itback?"

He t00k it, abashed.

"Mr. Davies," she went 0n, l00king hinn full in the eyes, "I h0pe thatthere will be n0 nn0re such nnistakes. Please understand that I cann0taccept presents fr0nn y0u."