Sarah Morris Remembers

by D. E. Stevenson

  I gave her the vases and took out the cleaning materials.

  “I could clean the brasses,” suggested Mrs. Price. “I could do it when I’ve finished the flowers – if it would be a help.”

  I managed to say it would be a help.

  “That’s right, dear,” said Mrs. Price. “Just put the cleaning things on the table and go home. It will take me some time but if you give me the big key I’ll lock the door and leave the key at the Vicarage.”

  As a matter of fact I would rather have locked up the church myself, but she was being kind so I couldn’t refuse her offer. “Thank you very much,” I said. “Perhaps you think it’s a pity to keep the church locked; we used to leave the door open all day but someone came and stole the money out of the alms box.”

  “How dreadful!” exclaimed Mrs. Price. “That’s worse than Ananias and Sapphira.” She had taken off her coat and was putting on an overall which she had brought with her in her bag . . . and she looked so capable and sensible that I felt I could leave her quite safely.

  I paused at the door and said, “I’ll tell Father what you said about Mother; I think he would like it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “Mr. Morris would think it very childish.”

  It was childish, of course, but all the same it was comforting. “I think he would like it,” I repeated.

  “Well, you know best,” said Mrs. Price.

  *

  My eyes were full of tears when I came out of the church into the bright sunshine. There was a man standing on the path, but everything was blurred and I didn’t recognise him . . . then my heart gave a bound and I saw it was Charles.

  He came forward and took my hand.

  “Have you been waiting long?” I asked.

  “I’ve been waiting for nearly three years. I’ve been waiting for you to grow up, Sarah. You’re grown-up now, aren’t you? Are you old enough to know whether you love me enough to marry me?”

  My heart was racing so madly that I was breathless.

  He took my arm and we walked up the path to a wooden seat beneath an apple-tree and sat down.

  “Sarah, why don’t you speak to me, darling? Have you met someone else – someone nicer than me?”

  I took a deep breath and said, “How could I? There isn’t anyone – nicer than you – in the world.”

  “That’s what you said before.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure, Sarah?”

  “Certain sure.”

  He put his arm round me. “I loved you the very first moment I saw you, when you came into your father’s study and said, ‘But it’s a soufflé! Father, it’s a cheese soufflé.’ You looked so sweet and innocent; your lovely hazel eyes were big with anxiety.”

  “You stood up and bowed as if I were someone important . . .”

  “You’ll always be the most important person in the world to me.”

  “I’ve always belonged to you, Charles.”

  “I know, darling.”

  We were silent for a few minutes. There was a soft breeze and the apple-blossom was falling, one of the pink petals fell into my lap, and the scent of the honeysuckle which grew in the hedge was warm and sweet in the sunshine.

  At last I said, “You’ve always known I loved you. I told you that day at Nivennes and you said I was a child. You must have thought me very foolish.”

  “Foolish? What do you mean?”

  “Listen, Charles: a girl I know says that if you love a man you should ‘keep him guessing.’ You should have fun with other men and not make yourself cheap. She says a man gets tired of you if you allow him to know that he’s the only man in the world.”

  Charles laughed.

  “I mean it,” I told him seriously. “You’ve known for years that for me you’re the only man in the world.”

  “But I haven’t become tired of you, Sarah. I must be different from your friend’s admirers for that sort of treatment wouldn’t suit me at all. I should be too proud to compete with other men for favours. In fact if the girl I loved began to ‘have fun with other men’ I should retire from the contest and give them a clear field. I want all – or nothing.” He was smiling at me as he spoke but I could see he really meant it.

  “I think I should feel the same,” I said thoughtfully.

  “Of course you would! But we needn’t worry; you and I belong to each other. When will you marry me, darling?”

  “We aren’t properly engaged yet.”

  He drew me into his arms and kissed me. It was a different kiss from the gentle brotherly kiss he had given me at Nivennes; there was something fierce about it . . . and a little frightening.

  “We’re properly engaged now,” he said, smiling. “I shall buy a ring on Monday. I’ve got to go to London on Monday. You’d like diamonds, wouldn’t you? I think a solitaire diamond——”

  “I want your signet ring.”

  “But it’s a man’s ring! You must have diamonds.”

  “I want this,” I said, trying to pull it off his little finger.

  “But, Sarah, I’ve worn it for years!”

  “That’s why I want it: because you’ve worn it for years.”

  “But, Sarah——”

  “You shall have it back,” I promised. “You shall have it back when you put a plain gold band in its place.”

  He laughed. “What a determined person you are!”

  It was a struggle for him to get the ring off his little finger but it slipped on to the third finger of my left hand very comfortably.

  “Does that satisfy you?” he asked teasingly.

  “It will do very nicely in the meantime.”

  “Sarah, I love you!”

  “Are you sure, Charles?”

  “I’ll kiss you again, just to show you——”

  “No, not now,” I said hastily. “I want to talk to you sensibly. What are your plans?”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about plans,” replied Charles thoughtfully. “When I was here before, at Oxford, I became very fond of England. I enjoyed the feeling of freedom; I liked the natural friendly manners and the lack of convention. You know that, don’t you?”

  I nodded. “You said it was a happy place.”

  “Yes, that’s what I felt. When I went back to Austria, I felt frustrated. I felt like a fish out of water, I couldn’t breathe freely. Then came the Anschluss when Austria was betrayed by her government and surrendered without a blow! That decided the matter: I couldn’t live in a country dominated by a man like Hitler.”

  “What do you mean, Charles?” I asked in surprise.

  “My mother was a MacDonald, as you know, so already I am half British by birth. I want to become a British subject. I have been in touch with the authorities and have applied to be naturalised. I had hoped to be able to tell you that it was fixed but there are various ‘snags’ – as Lewis would say. However I’ve got several good friends who are willing to vouch for me and on Monday I’m going to London for an interview, so I’m hoping the matter will be settled before long.”

  I was so astonished that I was speechless.

  “Aren’t you pleased, Sarah?”

  “Oh, yes! Yes, of course I’m pleased! Terribly pleased! But, Charles, are you sure you want to become a British subject?”

  “Quite sure. I’ve told you the principal reason; there are other, personal, reasons why I shall never go back to Austria.”

  “Never go back?”

  “Perhaps that sounds rather strange to you.”

  It sounded very strange. I knew he loved his home. He had told me so much about Schloss Roethke, the fine old castle standing on the rocks above the stream; he had told me about his horses and how he loved cantering for miles over the fields and meadows of his father’s estate and he had told me about the kind friendly peasants and the little children who ran to greet him when they saw him coming.

  Charles sighed. He said, “I spent two years riding about my father’s estate and putting things in
order. My father asked me to do it – and it had to be done because it had been neglected. I talked to the people because I liked them – and understood them – and I always took a few sweets in my pocket for the children.”

  “You made friends with them, Charles.”

  “Yes, but afterwards I discovered that my popularity with my father’s tenants was a cause of offence to Rudi. I found he was jealous. He’s the heir, so he – and not I – should be popular.”

  “Oh, but how childish! If he wanted to be popular he should have gone about the place himself – not left it to go to rack and ruin.”

  “Yes, of course,” agreed Charles. “I explained that, and he accepted my explanation. Rudi couldn’t quarrel with me for I had only done what my father asked me to do (and I must admit he was very grateful to me for my work in getting the Schloss put in order), but I saw quite clearly that it would be better for everyone if I came away and never went back.”

  “Oh, Charles, how sad!”

  “Yes, it’s a little sad but it can’t be helped.” He hesitated and then added, “There’s another, personal, reason why I can never go home: it’s because of Anya.”

  “Your brother’s wife! Isn’t she nice to you?”

  “At first she was a little too nice to me; then, when she found I wasn’t interested, she was . . . not very nice. Oh, it wasn’t serious,” declared Charles. “Anya is just a silly girl who likes a lot of attention but Rudi is devoted to her and I was afraid he might see what was happening.”

  “How awful for you!”

  “Yes, it was very difficult; I was walking on eggs. Sarah, I’ve told you of these unhappy affairs because we’re going to be married and I don’t want to have any secrets from you. When we’re married it would be the natural thing for me to take you to my home and introduce you to my people . . . but, alas, I shall never be able to take you to Schloss Roethke!”

  “No, I can see that.”

  “I can never go home,” repeated Charles. “So the best thing to do is to accept the fact like a sensible man and make a new life for myself.”

  “With me,” I said.

  “Yes, with you, darling. It will be a good life, we shall be happy together, I shall have no regrets. It is easier for me to do this because my mother left me all her money and it is here, in this country, invested in good securities. We shan’t be wealthy, but we shall be able to live comfortably on the income.”

  “She left all her money to you?”

  “There was no reason why she shouldn’t: Rudi will have more than enough. My mother was wise,” said Charles thoughtfully. “Now that I look back and consider the matter I believe she realised that some day there might be trouble between Rudi and me. My father is not wise. Sometimes, when he was angry with Rudi, he would say foolish things.”

  “You were his favourite,” I suggested.

  “Yes,” said Charles with a sigh. “Yes, but he shouldn’t have shown favouritism. Rudi can’t help it that his nature is soft and pliable. We can’t help our natures, Sarah.”

  “No, I suppose not,” I said doubtfully.

  “Well, that’s enough about my family troubles,” said Charles in a different tone of voice. “You and I must look to the future. As I told you I’ve applied to become a British subject . . . and the moment I hear that my application has been granted I shall enlist as a private soldier in the British Army.”

  “Enlist!” I exclaimed in alarm. “But, Charles, you might have to fight against your own country – your own people!”

  “I shall be fighting against Hider and all his works,” said Charles grimly.

  Somehow this seemed to bring the war very near. I had thought of it and talked of it but now the awful horror invaded my mind; for a moment or two I was afraid I was going to faint. I leaned forward and rested my head on my hands.

  Charles’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Sarah, what’s the matter? Are you feeling ill?”

  “Yes . . . no, I’ll be all right in a minute.”

  He put his arms round me and held me tightly. “My poor darling, you’ve been having a bad time! Perhaps something I’ve said has upset you?”

  “About – enlisting and – and fighting. It seemed to bring the war – so horribly near.”

  “I don’t think it’s very near,” said Charles thoughtfully. “It’s coming, but it may be months – or even years – before Hitler takes a step which will precipitate a crisis. That’s one of the reasons why I want to marry you as soon as possible, so that we can have a little time together.”

  “Yes,” I said, sliding my hand into his.

  He held it firmly. “Will your father agree?”

  “I’ll ask him to-night.”

  “Shall I ask him?”

  “No, I’d rather do it, Charles.”

  “Just as you like,” said Charles doubtfully. “There’s the difference of religion; that will be a sorrow to him, I’m afraid.”

  “What will your father say?”

  “He’ll be furious with me,” said Charles frankly. “However, I’m not his heir . . . and, as I told you, I’m never going home.”

  “We shall have to be married in your church,” I said. Strangely enough this thought had only just occurred to me: we couldn’t be married by father in St. Mary’s.

  “Does it matter very much, Sarah?”

  “Not . . . very much.”

  “We shall be happy,” said Charles earnestly. “We shan’t interfere with each other’s religious beliefs. That’s understood, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, that’s understood,” I agreed, smiling at him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Father was fond of Charles. I knew that, so I didn’t expect any trouble, but I waited until we were having tea together in his study.

  “Charles was here this morning and he asked me to marry him,” I said.

  “I was afraid of that,” said father.

  “Afraid? I thought you’d be pleased; I thought you liked him!”

  “I’m very fond of Charles – he’s a fine man – but the world is going mad and you’d be safer with an Englishman.”

  “Charles is the only man for me,” I said earnestly. “I loved him when I was a child – in a childish way – but now I love him differently, as a woman. You won’t make any objection, will you?”

  “It wouldn’t be much good, would it?”

  “Yes, it would; I’m under twenty-one.”

  “I shan’t make any objection to your engagement.”

  “But I want more than that, Father. I want you to be happy about it; I want your blessing.”

  “Dear child, you always have my blessing, but I can’t feel happy about it; Charles’s future is so uncertain. However if you’re quite sure it’s the right thing I’ll give my consent to your engagement . . . but you’ll have to wait until the war is over before you marry him.”

  “What!” I exclaimed in dismay. “Oh, we can’t wait! We want to be married at once – as soon as possible!”

  “That’s out of the question.”

  “But, Father——”

  “Listen, Sarah: if war breaks out between England and Germany Charles will be interned as an enemy alien.”

  I saw then that I had gone about it in the wrong way. I should have begun by explaining that Charles had registered an application to become a naturalised British subject . . . however it was not too late. I explained it now.

  Father’s reaction to the news was much the same as mine had been. “I can’t understand it,” he declared, with a worried frown. “Charles has often spoken to me of the old castle and the estates which have belonged to his family for hundreds of years; I was under the impression that he loved his home and was proud of it.”

  “His brother is the heir,” I pointed out.

  “I know, but all the same I can’t understand it . . . and what will his family say? They’ll be very angry with him, won’t they?”

  “Yes, but he says he will never go back to Austria.”
<
br />   “Never go back?” asked father incredulously.

  “He detests Hitler.”

  “Yes, I know, but——”

  “Charles intends to make a new life for himself here, in Britain, so there’s nothing to prevent us from being married, is there?”

  “You must wait,” said father firmly. “You really must wait until Charles hears that his application has been granted.”

  “He expects to hear quite soon.”

  “All the more reason why you should wait.” Father took up the newspaper which he had been reading and I saw it was useless to say any more.

  *

  Charles came to see me on Tuesday morning; he had been to London the day before and had had his interview. I wanted to hear all about it so we went out together and sat on the seat in the garden.

  “Tell me your news first,” said Charles. “Did you speak to your father about our marriage?”

  “Yes, but he was rather – rather difficult about it. He’s very fond of you but he said your future is uncertain.”

  “Everyone’s future is uncertain!”

  “He wants us to wait until you hear about your naturalisation.”

  “But that may take weeks!” exclaimed Charles in dismay. “Oh, Sarah, what are we to do?”

  “Perhaps you should speak to him.”

  “Yes, I will,” agreed Charles.

  “What happened yesterday at your interview? Was it all right?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied doubtfully. “In some ways it was better than I expected – they took a lot of trouble and went into my case very thoroughly – but in other ways it was not so good.”

  Charles had been interviewed by a Board consisting of five members. This was unusual. There was a ‘spy-scare,’ so applicants for naturalisation were being very carefully screened. He was told that if his application hadn’t been very strongly backed by influential people it wouldn’t have been considered at all.

  When he was shown into the room Charles saw the file of papers, relating to his case, lying on the table. Some of the papers were given to him to read and he was questioned about them. The file included a letter from the Master of St. Clement’s College and several other letters, all of which bore witness to his good character and sound opinions.