The Four Swans (62 page)

`Take her up,’ Ross said. `Tell her her mother will be up in a few minutes. Stay with her till then. Is Jeremy asleep?’

`I b’lieve so, sur.’

`Tell her she’ll come to read the story in a few minutes.’ The door closed.

Demelza wiped her eyes again and gulped some of Ross’s drink. Ross picked up her ruined, slippers and dropped them in the children’s basket, took up her cloak a second time, folded it. It was not an instinct of tidiness.

`Tell me how you feel,’ he said.

`You mean you don’t want me to leave?’ `Tell me, how you feel.’

`Oh, Ross, how can I? How dare I?’

‘Indeed. But try.’

`What have I to, say? I never intended. This crept on me unawares. I never thought - you must know I never thought… I am so sad. For - for all things.’

`Yes, well. Sit down here a minute and tell me.’

`What more is there to say?’

`Tell me what you feel about Hugh.’

‘Really?’

`Really.

She used her sleeve again. `How can I say truthfully, when I am not sure myself? I tell you, it came on me unawares. It was the last thing I ever sought. Now my heart feels broken … But not in the way -not like at Julia’s death. Now I weep tears, tears, tears, for so much youth and love buried into the ground … When Julia died I had no tears. They were internal-like blood. Now - now they stream down my face like rain - like rain that I cannot stop. Oh, Ross, will you not hold me?’

`Yes,’ he said, doing it.

`Please hold me and never let me go.’

`Nor shall I, if you give me the chance.’

`Not till we die. Ross, I could not live without you … These - these are not the tears of a penitent - I may have reason to be penitent - but this is not that. I cry - it sounds silly - I weep for Hugh and - and for myself - and for - for the whole world.’

`Set some tears aside for me,’ Ross said, `for I believe I need them.’

`Oh, they are all yours,’ she said and then choked completely and clung to him with great shaking sobs.

They sat for a while, crouched in an awkward attitude that neither noticed. Now and then he would free a hand to thrust it impatiently across his own nose and eyes.

After a long time he said : `Clowance will be waiting.’

`I’ll go in a minute. But first I must wash my face.’

`Drink this.’

She took a second gulp from his glass.

`You are very good to me, Ross.’

`Good for you, no doubt.’

`To me … Forgiving … But forgetting? I don’t know. Perhaps it’s a mistake to forget. All I know is that I love you. I suppose that’s all that really matters.’

`It’s what matters to me.’

She shuddered and put a hand to each, eye in turn. `I’ll wash my face and then go and read, and then if you want you can have a bite of supper.’

‘I think,’ said Ross, `I’ll come and read a while with you.’