CHAPTER XXI
"LOVE AFFAIRS ARE HORRIBLE"
Ingleside 20th June 1916
"We have been so busy, and day after day has brought such excitingnews, good and bad, that I haven't had time and composure to write inmy diary for weeks. I like to keep it up regularly, for father says adiary of the years of the war should be a very interesting thing tohand down to one's children. The trouble is, I like to write a fewpersonal things in this blessed old book that might not be exactly whatI'd want my children to read. I feel that I shall be a far greaterstickler for propriety in regard to them than I am for myself!
"The first week in June was another dreadful one. The Austrians seemedjust on the point of overrunning Italy: and then came the first awfulnews of the Battle of Jutland, which the Germans claimed as a greatvictory. Susan was the only one who carried on. 'You need never tell methat the Kaiser has defeated the British Navy,' she said, with acontemptuous sniff. 'It is all a German lie and that you may tie to.'And when a couple of days later we found out that she was right andthat it had been a British victory instead of a British defeat, we hadto put up with a great many 'I told you so's,' but we endured them verycomfortably.
"It took Kitchener's death to finish Susan. For the first time I sawher down and out. We all felt the shock of it but Susan plumbed thedepths of despair. The news came at night by 'phone but Susan wouldn'tbelieve it until she saw the Enterprise headline the next day. She didnot cry or faint or go into hysterics; but she forgot to put salt inthe soup, and that is something Susan never did in my recollection.Mother and Miss Oliver and I cried but Susan looked at us in stonysarcasm and said, 'The Kaiser and his six sons are all alive andthriving. So the world is not left wholly desolate. Why cry, Mrs. Dr.dear?' Susan continued in this stony, hopeless condition fortwenty-four hours, and then Cousin Sophia appeared and began to condolewith her.
"'This is terrible news, ain't it, Susan? We might as well prepare forthe worst for it is bound to come. You said once--and well do Iremember the words, Susan Baker--that you had complete confidence inGod and Kitchener. Ah well, Susan Baker, there is only God left now.'
"Whereat Cousin Sophia put her handkerchief to her eyes pathetically asif the world were indeed in terrible straits. As for Susan, CousinSophia was the salvation of her. She came to life with a jerk.
"'Sophia Crawford, hold your peace!' she said sternly. 'You may be anidiot but you need not be an irreverent idiot. It is no more thandecent to be weeping and wailing because the Almighty is the sole stayof the Allies now. As for Kitchener, his death is a great loss and I donot dispute it. But the outcome of this war does not depend on oneman's life and now that the Russians are coming on again you will soonsee a change for the better.'
"Susan said this so energetically that she convinced herself andcheered up immediately. But Cousin Sophia shook her head.
"'Albert's wife wants to call the baby after Brusiloff,' she said, 'butI told her to wait and see what becomes of him first. Them Russians hassuch a habit of petering out.'
"The Russians are doing splendidly, however, and they have saved Italy.But even when the daily news of their sweeping advance comes we don'tfeel like running up the flag as we used to do. As Gertrude says,Verdun has slain all exultation. We would all feel more like rejoicingif the victories were on the western front. 'When will the Britishstrike?' Gertrude sighed this morning. 'We have waited so long--solong.'
"Our greatest local event in recent weeks was the route march thecounty battalion made through the county before it left for overseas.They marched from Charlottetown to Lowbridge, then round the HarbourHead and through the Upper Glen and so down to the St. Mary station.Everybody turned out to see them, except old Aunt Fannie Clow, who isbedridden and Mr. Pryor, who hadn't been seen out even in church sincethe night of the Union Prayer Meeting the previous week.
"It was wonderful and heartbreaking to see that battalion marchingpast. There were young men and middle-aged men in it. There was LaurieMcAllister from over-harbour who is only sixteen but swore he waseighteen, so that he could enlist; and there was Angus Mackenzie, fromthe Upper Glen who is fifty-five if he is a day and swore he wasforty-four. There were two South African veterans from Lowbridge, andthe three eighteen-year-old Baxter triplets from Harbour Head.Everybody cheered as they went by, and they cheered Foster Booth, whois forty, walking side by side with his son Charley who is twenty.Charley's mother died when he was born, and when Charley enlistedFoster said he'd never yet let Charley go anywhere he daren't gohimself, and he didn't mean to begin with the Flanders trenches. At thestation Dog Monday nearly went out of his head. He tore about and sentmessages to Jem by them all. Mr. Meredith read an address and RetaCrawford recited 'The Piper.' The soldiers cheered her like mad andcried 'We'll follow--we'll follow--we won't break faith,' and I felt soproud to think that it was my dear brother who had written such awonderful, heart-stirring thing. And then I looked at the khaki ranksand wondered if those tall fellows in uniform could be the boys I'velaughed with and played with and danced with and teased all my life.Something seems to have touched them and set them apart. They haveheard the Piper's call.
"Fred Arnold was in the battalion and I felt dreadfully about him, forI realized that it was because of me that he was going away with such asorrowful expression. I couldn't help it but I felt as badly as if Icould.
"The last evening of his leave Fred came up to Ingleside and told me heloved me and asked me if I would promise to marry him some day, if heever came back. He was desperately in earnest and I felt more wretchedthan I ever did in my life. I couldn't promise him that--why, even ifthere was no question of Ken, I don't care for Fred that way and nevercould--but it seemed so cruel and heartless to send him away to thefront without any hope of comfort. I cried like a baby; and yet--oh, Iam afraid that there must be something incurably frivolous about me,because, right in the middle of it all, with me crying and Fred lookingso wild and tragic, the thought popped into my head that it would be anunendurable thing to see that nose across from me at the breakfasttable every morning of my life. There, that is one of the entries Iwouldn't want my descendants to read in this journal. But it is thehumiliating truth; and perhaps it's just as well that thought did comeor I might have been tricked by pity and remorse into giving him somerash assurance. If Fred's nose were as handsome as his eyes and mouthsome such thing might have happened. And then what an unthinkablepredicament I should have been in!
"When poor Fred became convinced that I couldn't promise him, hebehaved beautifully--though that rather made things worse. If he hadbeen nasty about it I wouldn't have felt so heartbroken andremorseful--though why I should feel remorseful I don't know, for Inever encouraged Fred to think I cared a bit about him. Yet feelremorseful I did--and do. If Fred Arnold never comes back fromoverseas, this will haunt me all my life.
"Then Fred said if he couldn't take my love with him to the trenches atleast he wanted to feel that he had my friendship, and would I kiss himjust once in good-bye before he went--perhaps for ever?
"I don't know how I could ever had imagined that love affairs weredelightful, interesting things. They are horrible. I couldn't even givepoor heartbroken Fred one little kiss, because of my promise to Ken. Itseemed so brutal. I had to tell Fred that of course he would have myfriendship, but that I couldn't kiss him because I had promisedsomebody else I wouldn't.
"He said, 'It is--is it--Ken Ford?'
"I nodded. It seemed dreadful to have to tell it--it was such a sacredlittle secret just between me and Ken.
"When Fred went away I came up here to my room and cried so long and sobitterly that mother came up and insisted on knowing what was thematter. I told her. She listened to my tale with an expression thatclearly said, 'Can it be possible that anyone has been wanting to marrythis baby?' But she was so nice and understanding and sympathetic, oh,just so race-of-Josephy--that I felt indescribably comforted. Mothersare the dearest things.
"'But oh, mother,' I sobbed, 'he wanted me to kiss him good-bye--
and Icouldn't--and that hurt me worse than all the rest.'
"'Well, why didn't you kiss him?' asked mother coolly. 'Considering thecircumstances, I think you might have.'
"'But I couldn't, mother--I promised Ken when he went away that Iwouldn't kiss anybody else until he came back.'
"This was another high explosive for poor mother. She exclaimed, withthe queerest little catch in her voice, 'Rilla, are you engaged toKenneth Ford?'
"'I--don't--know,' I sobbed.
"'You--don't--know?' repeated mother.
"Then I had to tell her the whole story, too; and every time I tell itit seems sillier and sillier to imagine that Ken meant anythingserious. I felt idiotic and ashamed by the time I got through.
"Mother sat a little while in silence. Then she came over, sat downbeside me, and took me in her arms.
"'Don't cry, dear little Rilla-my-Rilla. You have nothing to reproachyourself with in regard to Fred; and if Leslie West's son asked you tokeep your lips for him, I think you may consider yourself engaged tohim. But--oh, my baby--my last little baby--I have lost you--the warhas made a woman of you too soon.'
"I shall never be too much of a woman to find comfort in mother's hugs.Nevertheless, when I saw Fred marching by two days later in the parade,my heart ached unbearably.
"But I'm glad mother thinks I'm really engaged to Ken!"
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