I am sorry I rushed away tonight, but it was better really. I had to think. I have thought. I’m only certain of one thing yet. To go on in secret is impossible. I shan’t say a word about tonight, of course, until you let me. But, Fleur, unless I can tell everything, it must end. You wouldn’t wish it otherwise, would you? Please answer to the Post Office, Nettlefold.
JON
He sealed this up, addressed it to her at Dorking, and, pulling on his boots, again stole out and posted it. When he got back he felt so tired, that, wrapped in an old coat, he fell asleep in an armchair. The moonlight played tricks through the half-drawn curtains, the old clock ticked, but Jon slept, dreamless.
He woke at daybreak, stole up to the bathroom, bathed and shaved noiselessly, and went out through a window, so as not to leave the front door unfastened. He walked up through the gap past the old chalk-pit, on to the Downs, by the path he had taken with Fleur seven years ago. Till he had heard from her he did not know what to do; and he dreaded Anne’s eyes, while his mind was still distraught. He went towards Chanctonbury Ring. There was a heavy dew, and the short turf was all spun over with it. All was infinitely beautiful, remote and stilly in the level sunlight. The beauty tore at his heart. He had come to love the Downs – they had a special loveliness, like no other part of the world that he had seen. Did this mean that he must now leave them, leave England again – leave everything, and cleave to Fleur? If she claimed him, if she decided on declaring their act of union , he supposed it did. And Jon walked in confusion of heart, such as he had not thought possible to man. From the Ring he branched away, taking care to avoid the horses at their early exercise. And this first subterfuge brought him face to face with immediate decision. What should he do till he had heard from Fleur? Her answer could not reach Nettlefold till the evening or even next morning. He decided, painfully, to go back to breakfast, and tell them he had missed his train, and entered in the night burglariously so as not to disturb them.
That day, with its anxiety and its watchfulness of self, was one of the most wretched he had ever spent; and he could not free himself from the feeling that Anne was reading his thoughts. It was as if each passed the day looking at the other unobserved – almost unbearable! In the afternoon he asked for a horse to ride over to Green Hill Farm, and said he would be back late. He rode on into Nettlefold and went to the Post office. There was a telegram: ‘Must see you. Will be at Green Hill Farm to-morrow at noon. Don’t fail me.—F.’
Jon destroyed it, and rode homewards. Wretchedness and strain for another eighteen hours! Was there anything in the world worse than indecision? He rode slowly so as to have the less time at home, dreading the night. He stopped at a wayside inn to eat, and again went by way of Green Hill Farm to save at least the letter of his tale. It was nearly ten and full moonlight before he got back.
‘It’s a wonderful night,’ he said, when he came into the drawing-room. ‘The moonlight’s simply marvellous.’ It was Holly who answered; Anne, sitting by the fire, did not even look up. ‘She knows,’ thought Jon, ‘she knows something.’ Very soon after, she said she was sleepy, and went up. Jon stayed, talking to Holly. Val had gone on from town to Newmarket, and would not be back till Friday. They sat one on each side of the wood fire. And, looking at his sister’s face, charming and pensive, Jon was tempted. She was so wise and sympathetic. It would be a relief to tell her everything. But Fleur’s command held him back – it was not his secret.
‘Well, Jon, is it all right about the farm?’
‘I’ve got some new figures; I’m going into them to-night.’
‘I do wish it were settled, and we knew you were going to be near for certain. I shall be awfully disappointed if you’re not.’
‘Yes; but I must make sure this time.’
‘Anne’s very set on it. She doesn’t say much, but she really is. It’s such a charming old place.’
‘I don’t want a better, but it must pay its way.’
‘Is that your real reason, Jon?’
‘Why not?’
‘I thought perhaps you were secretly afraid of settling again. But you’re the head of the family, Jon – you ought to settle.’
‘Head of the family!’
‘Yes, the only son of the only son of the eldest son right back to the primeval Jolyon.’
‘Nice head!’ said Jon bitterly.
‘Yes – a nice head.’ And, suddenly rising, Holly bent over and kissed the top of it.
‘Bless you! Don’t sit up too late. Anne’s rather in the dumps.’