did care about you. I didn ’ t know quite how much until that last time I saw you and you only laughed and sent me away, and I was fool enough to take your ultimatum.”
“It wouldn ’ t have made any difference, Stuart. We ’ re two people with widely divergent views ... oh, about everything, and we only would have ended by hurting one another. ”
“But isn ’ t hurting and making up part of loving?” the man demanded.
“Not my kind of loving,” Elizabeth said steadily .
“I suppose you ’ re referring to that wide-eyed love you had for Irving, and you ’ ve never been able to see past it ever since,” he told her brutally.
Elizabeth put her hand up in a little gesture of defe n s iven es s. “Who told you about Irving? I never did!” she whispe red.
He laughed then without mirth and released her. “I to o k the trouble to f i nd out aft e r you sent me away. Somehow my pride wouldn ’ t let me accept that you had rejected me because of what I was. There had to be a reason not attached to myself, or my person ... something th at stood between us and could be swept away. But when I discovered that I was competing with the ghost of a dead lover ... a man who had been dead for all of fifteen years ... I suppose I gave up hope then ... especially when some well-meaning soul told me that Irving had blue eyes like mine! I suppose that was why you tolerated my presence at all,” he ended bitterly.
Elizabeth stood there as if he had struck her across the face. “If that was the reason I certainly wasn ’ t conscious of it,” she said scornfully. “It ’ s just like you to make a mock of anything a person holds sacred and drag it in the mud!”
It was he who winced this time. “Don ’ t, Elizabeth! It ’ s not funny this time. It never has been where you were concerned. Perhaps that ’ s where I went wrong. Once you care too much, it isn ’ t amusing any more, either for the lover or the loved one. It either hurts like hell or becomes so deadly dull that one lashes out just to make a change.”
“Can we just leave it at that, Stuart? We ’ re both living in Shenston now and this isn ’ t getting us anywhere. Can ’ t we agree to differ?” Elizabeth suggested wearily.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose we can try ... make polite conversation when we meet. I expect one of these fine days you ’ ll marry William Gregory, and ask me to the wedding, and I ’ ll send an expensive present and arrange to be out of town on that date and ... Ouch!”
Elizabeth looked down at her tingling fingers and then at the darkening mark on Stuart ’ s cheek. “That was a beastly, horrid thing to say! I hate you!”
And the new Matron of St. Genevieve ’ s turned on her heel and left him, as flushed with anger as she would have been twenty years ago. How dare he say a thing like that about her ... about William Gregory!
CHAPTER THREE
Elizabeth ’ s h ands were trembling as she tried to open her front door. In her haste she had forgotten Sister Winsley ’ s remark about how to turn the key to the left first ... After a couple of minutes ’ endeavour she made herself stop. It was then she realized that unconsciously she must have been expecting Stuart to come after her, but there was only a light wind swaying the branches of the trees: somewhere in the distance a tomcat was serenading his mate. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and this time the door opened easily. She resisted the impulse to hurry up the stairs. She must stop behaving like a teenager who had run into trouble on her first date.
Once the lights were on the quiet peacefulness of the house began to enfold her and she felt the tension begin to slip away as a nightmare does when the sleeper awakes. After all, what had happened was between Stuart and herself. There had been no witnesses other than the old grey stones of the castle walls, and they must have seen much violence through the centuries. She had been guilty of
“It wouldn ’ t have made any difference, Stuart. We ’ re two people with widely divergent views ... oh, about everything, and we only would have ended by hurting one another. ”
“But isn ’ t hurting and making up part of loving?” the man demanded.
“Not my kind of loving,” Elizabeth said steadily .
“I suppose you ’ re referring to that wide-eyed love you had for Irving, and you ’ ve never been able to see past it ever since,” he told her brutally.
Elizabeth put her hand up in a little gesture of defe n s iven es s. “Who told you about Irving? I never did!” she whispe red.
He laughed then without mirth and released her. “I to o k the trouble to f i nd out aft e r you sent me away. Somehow my pride wouldn ’ t let me accept that you had rejected me because of what I was. There had to be a reason not attached to myself, or my person ... something th at stood between us and could be swept away. But when I discovered that I was competing with the ghost of a dead lover ... a man who had been dead for all of fifteen years ... I suppose I gave up hope then ... especially when some well-meaning soul told me that Irving had blue eyes like mine! I suppose that was why you tolerated my presence at all,” he ended bitterly.
Elizabeth stood there as if he had struck her across the face. “If that was the reason I certainly wasn ’ t conscious of it,” she said scornfully. “It ’ s just like you to make a mock of anything a person holds sacred and drag it in the mud!”
It was he who winced this time. “Don ’ t, Elizabeth! It ’ s not funny this time. It never has been where you were concerned. Perhaps that ’ s where I went wrong. Once you care too much, it isn ’ t amusing any more, either for the lover or the loved one. It either hurts like hell or becomes so deadly dull that one lashes out just to make a change.”
“Can we just leave it at that, Stuart? We ’ re both living in Shenston now and this isn ’ t getting us anywhere. Can ’ t we agree to differ?” Elizabeth suggested wearily.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose we can try ... make polite conversation when we meet. I expect one of these fine days you ’ ll marry William Gregory, and ask me to the wedding, and I ’ ll send an expensive present and arrange to be out of town on that date and ... Ouch!”
Elizabeth looked down at her tingling fingers and then at the darkening mark on Stuart ’ s cheek. “That was a beastly, horrid thing to say! I hate you!”
And the new Matron of St. Genevieve ’ s turned on her heel and left him, as flushed with anger as she would have been twenty years ago. How dare he say a thing like that about her ... about William Gregory!
CHAPTER THREE
Elizabeth ’ s h ands were trembling as she tried to open her front door. In her haste she had forgotten Sister Winsley ’ s remark about how to turn the key to the left first ... After a couple of minutes ’ endeavour she made herself stop. It was then she realized that unconsciously she must have been expecting Stuart to come after her, but there was only a light wind swaying the branches of the trees: somewhere in the distance a tomcat was serenading his mate. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and this time the door opened easily. She resisted the impulse to hurry up the stairs. She must stop behaving like a teenager who had run into trouble on her first date.
Once the lights were on the quiet peacefulness of the house began to enfold her and she felt the tension begin to slip away as a nightmare does when the sleeper awakes. After all, what had happened was between Stuart and herself. There had been no witnesses other than the old grey stones of the castle walls, and they must have seen much violence through the centuries. She had been guilty of
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