So Dear to My Heart

by Susan Barrie

  Virginia did not enjoy the remainder of the evening, but for Clive’ s sake she strove to appear as if she was having a wonderful time, and she must have succeeded for the General continued to think that she was quite delightful and she was a better listener to his anecdotes than that slinky, golden-headed woman with the very beautiful but curiously unsympathetic blue eyes.

  If that doctor fellow was thinking of marrying her, it was to be hoped he had the power of putting a little warmth into them sometimes or life for him would be an unenviably bleak affair despite so much physical perfection!

  Only Clive noticed that Virginia was making a tremendous effort to appear natural after she danced that one dance with Leon Hanson, and he hoped she had not been unwise enough to become seriously interested in him when there was not a hope on earth that her interest—even if it was returned—would lead to anything satisfactory. Not when it meant entering into competition with Carla Spengler. Carla had told him while they danced that she hoped to be married soon. And there was only one man she was likely to marry and that was Leon Hanson!

  So Clive was particularly nice and almost gentle to Virginia, and he thanked her at the conclusion of the evening for helping him in the way she had done.

  “Without you to break the ice things might have been tricky, ” he told her. “But, as it is, I’ ve a kind of feeling that they’ re going to be all right! ”

  And Virginia felt she could be thankful for that, at least, for if they were all right for Clive they would be all right for Lisa. It was only for herself that they would not come right!

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The summer passed and autumn came to the lakeshore. The colors of autumn were even more triumphant and splendid than those of the springtime; but whereas the pastel-tinted springtime had held out promise of golden days in store, the autumn blazed away briefly like a forest fire and the first chill breath of winter came in with clammy mists that sometimes turned to rain and were at last succeeded by the first fall of snow.

  Virginia had never seen such snow before or such a brilliant blue sky when the clouds passed onward, and the sun shone forth again. It was exhilarating and good to be alive in such a world and if everything else had been as wonderful as the weather and the conditions under which she lived nowadays, she would have felt that there was little left to wish for to make life perfect.

  But life was not perfect. It was a day-to-day routine of attending to the wants of her two charges and watching them grow more sturdy and fit every day in that healthy atmosphere, of imparting a certain amount of knowledge to their youthful minds, eating and sleeping amidst luxurious surrounding and earning the evergrowing friendly esteem of Mary Van Loon and her husband. The latter, after a brief stay at home, had to make another trip abroad and Mary had a sudden urgent desire to go with him. Virginia was quite capable of making herself entirely responsible for Peter and Paula, and as Madame d’ Auvergne had by this time returned from Paris and would be on hand to advise her if necessary, it was finally arranged that Mary should go with Edward. So for several weeks Virginia was alone with the children and the servants in the big white villa on the shore of the lake, and for her life assumed a placid kind of unreality because she had no contact with anyone outside the villa save Madame d’ Auvergne.

  Aunt Heloise was always delighted to have her visit for tea when she could manage it, and the two seemed to get close to one another again as they had been in the days when Virginia had been her guest. There was a difference, however, because they never talked of Leon Hanson. His footsteps never sounded in the tiled veranda when they were sitting comfortably together with flowered cups and the silver teapot on the table between them, and the telephone never once rang to announce his imminent arrival.

  Madame d’Auvergne refrained from mentioning her nephew because she had a feeling that Virginia would prefer it that way, but Virginia was always dreading lest his name should suddenly be allowed to crop up in the conversation, and she would hear hews of him that would drive the blood away from her heart and make it impossible for her to keep what she was feeling out of her face.

  News that he was to be married and that he would be married soon. That was the thing she feared, although she knew it had to happen some day and she was endeavoring to school herself to a condition of mind that would permit her to be almost unaffected by the news when it did finally come.

  One other thing she hoped, however, was that she would not be in Switzerland when the Hanson-Spengler engagement was announced, for she had made up her mind to return to England just as soon as she could leave Peter and Paula. She was aware that plans for their schooling in England had already been discussed.

  She saw nothing of Dr. Hanson all the time that she was alone at the villa with the children.

  By the time Mary Van Loon and her husband returned the snow had fallen, and they brought a party of friends with them who were eagerly looking forward to winter sports. In order to satisfy the desires of these friends the Van Loons decided to open up a chalet high up in the mountains. It was an exceptionally large and commodious one so the whole party was accommodated, including Virginia and the two children and the maid Effie, who was now recognized as a nursery maid.

  Not far from the chalet was the hotel where Virginia had once lunched happily with Leon Hanson and dined with him not quite so happily the same evening. It was the Hotel Grunwald, and the valley that it overlooked was now a white carpet of snow and a perfect paradise for winter sports enthusiasts. They thronged the hotel in their bright pullovers and caps and scarves, performed wonderful feats with their skis, and never tired of returning up snow-covered slopes and then being precipitated down them again at whirlwind speed that was enough to take any onlooker’ s breath away.

  At nights they danced in the centrally heated small ballroom of the hotel, exchanging their colorful day wear for fashionable evening clothes. The brilliant lights from the hotel windows shone out across the snowy wastes and the music of the orchestra that supplied the accompaniment for dancing went echoing down the lonely Alpine valley where, at the time of Virginia’ s first visit, the cattle had jangled their cowbells while moving through a sea of blossoms of almost every known hue and the luxuriant green grass had been kissed to emerald by the sunshine.

  But now there were no flowers and no cattle. The balcony where Virginia had so enjoyed her lunch was powdered thick with snow, and instead of being overhung by a gaily striped awning that afforded protection from the sun. it was a very popular spot with sunbathers who found that the midday sun under that brilliant sky enabled them to acquire a tan every bit as satisfactory as that that the summer sun bestowed on them.

  The Van Loons and their party spent a good deal of time at the hotel and it was on the beginners’ slopes surrounding it that Virginia first learned to ski. At first she was quite sure that she could never master the art and she even tried to persuade Mary to let her off attempting it. But Mary merely laughed at her nervousness and assured her that she would quickly overcome it, and as both children took to skis very much in the same manner as ducks take to water, she realized that she would appear fainthearted indeed if she alone of all the party insisted on remaining an onlooker.

  Once her initial nervousness was overcome she found that Mary was right and she very quickly became proficient, although, she realized, there was little danger of her becoming an expert.

  Before they left the villa she had bought herself a ski suit of navy blue woolen material that effectively kept out any cold, and with it she wore a scarlet cap that suited her so well that Edward Van Loon didn’t hesitate to tell her so, particularly when he met her toiling up the beginner’ s slope with flushed cheeks and brilliant eyes, the two children looking like a couple of vivid elves on either side of her.

  And as there was an unattached young man among the party it was not long before she was receiving other compliments, as well, and if she had wanted to have a really good time she could have had it with the young man dancing attendance
on her and the children by day and begging her to take advantage of the hotel ballroom with him at night.

  As it was, the change of altitude, the brilliant weather, and the sudden carefree life did tend to have a slightly uplifting effect upon her spirits and she wrote home to Lisa to tell her all about the joys of Switzerland in the wintertime.

  Lisa was no longer in any sense of the word an invalid and from the reports Virginia received from Cromwell Road she was now practicing hard at her piano again and was happier than she had ever been. This was easily accounted for by the fact that she had just become officially engaged to Clive Maddison, after a visit to his Buckinghamshire home. High End, where she had been warmly received by the general and his sister. Aunt Hetty who had never forgotten Clive while he was away from home. Clive had apparently taken with zest to farming and was proposing to run his father’s five-to six-hundred-acre farm after a brief refresher course at a local agricultural college. He and Lisa planned to get married early in the New Year. Indeed, they had already decided on a date at the beginning of January and this piece of information did not really surprise Virginia for she had known from the moment she first became aware that Lisa had lost her heart—and lost it completely— to Clive, that all her thoughts would now be fixed on the inevitable outcome of falling in love with a man who, fortunately for her, returned her feelings in fullest measure.

  No doubt when she was married she would continue with her playing and she might still become a concert pianist. But success would no longer mean as much to her as it would have done if she had never met Clive. It would mean a great deal, but not as much as marriage to Clive.

  Virginia thought of Lisa with all the affection she had always lavished on her and hoped above all things that Lisa would be happy. Nothing mattered very much so long as Lisa was happy!

  Her own future was a trifle bleak, but for the present she was refusing to dwell upon it. She was trying to keep her mind a blank insofar as the days ahead of her, when she would have left Switzerland behind, were concerned.

  But nevertheless Lisa’ s letter, giving all the details of her engagement and the weekend she had spent at High End, did something to disturb Virginia’s carefully built-up wall of indifference—of imperviousness, rather—to events that might be likely to affect her nearly and make her capable of feeling. She definitely did not want to feel anything at all apart from the importance of carrying out her routine duties. Not until she had had a chance to get thoroughly well used to the idea of having to do without something really vital in her life, anyway.

  The letter had arrived after lunch and as they had been lunching at the hotel with the children left behind at the chalet in the

  temporary care of Effie, Virginia was free to seize the opportunity to wander away from her employers and their friends, and read and reread Lisa’ s impulsive communication in the privacy of a little pine wood at the back of the hotel.

  The sun was falling golden about her, finding its way between the rows of straight trunks, and immediately in front of her there was a wonderful view across the whole width of the valley, sloping steeply down to the ribbon of frozen river that wound among great boulders like gigantic lumps of sugar icing. Tiny creatures moved down there, a villager bent beneath the weight of the load on his back, a man with a sleigh, another man—or it could have been a woman—skimming the white waste on a pair of skis.

  Virginia sat on a fallen tree trunk, three-quarters of her mind on Lisa’ s letter, one quarter occupied with the magnificent view. One day in the far distant future she would remember these mountains, tier upon tier of them rising against that perfect sky, the purple shadows on the snow cast by the tall pines drooping beneath their burden of white and the orange light of the slowly westering sun, and she would hardly be able to bear thinking about them because locked up in them would be so many memories.

  She sighed raggedly and then gave herself a half-angry shake. Thoughts of this kind led her nowhere and if she permitted herself to think them they had almost a demoralizing effect upon her. She began to feel bewildered, hopeless, lonely, confused in her mind, and she was determined not to feel any of those things. So she stood up and concentrated determinedly on Lisa’s letter.

  It had to be answered and the sooner the better. Lisa would be looking for congratulations from her more eagerly perhaps than from anyone else and they must be speeded on their way as quickly as possible.

  So she made up her mind to go back to the chalet and start writing to her without delay. The others would not wonder where she had got to for she was reasonably well able to control her skis these days. The distance to the chalet was not much and she often returned before the rest of the party, especially when she had the children with her and it was important that they should not miss their afternoon rest.

  She was always a little nervous about starting off on skis, but once that rather bad moment was passed she enjoyed the hiss of the flying snow below her and the sensation of actually flying through space. It was then that she suddenly felt uplifted, as if all at once she had sprouted wings; her ambitions soared and she wished that the journey from the hotel to the chalet was far greater than it actually was, or that she had the skill of those experts who thought nothing of a long ski run such as she would never venture to attempt.

  But today there seemed to be something wrong with her left ski and one of the straps had not been properly fastened. Halfway down the slope to the chalet she tried to interrupt her descent in the way that she had seen Edward Van Loon do with ease, but all that she succeeded in bringing about was a heavy fall that ended in her rolling over and over down the slope, hopelessly entangled with her skis, and coming to rest finally in a deep drift of snow from which she found it almost impossible to extricate herself.

  It was a most undignified position to be in and moreover the fall had shaken her considerably. She felt bruised and battered and every time she tried to grasp at something solid to get herself out of the drift she merely clutched loose, crumbling snow and sank deeper into the white, soft cushion into which she had fallen. She was scarlet in the face and almost sobbing with frustration and a nervous dread that she might eventually sink deeper still and become smothered, when a figure swooped down to her out of the very sky, or so it seemed, and within a matter of moments she was on her feet and leaning against someone who seemed to regard her with a great deal of amusement, although until she lifted her head and looked into his face she was only able to detect the laughter in his voice as he said, “Have you any idea, I wonder, how funny you look just now? What in the world were you trying to do?”

  Anger seethed through Virginia, a kind of anger such as she had rarely felt before in her life and it made her voice shake uncontrollably as she answered, still without turning her head around to look at him, “What do you think I was doing? And if I looked so funny why didn’t you leave me and prolong your amusement? It would have been worthwhile entertainment! ”

  The tears flowed fast and furiously when at last she met his eyes. She could never have explained to anyone, not even to herself, why she should cry like that at a moment when she would have given anything not to, and why it was just as if deep down inside her some floodgates had been opened and the tears poured forth without any volition of hers and certainly without her approval.

  It was true that there was a nagging pain in her left ankle, and for a period of time that was actually no more than a few seconds she had been filled with an almost unreasoning panic, but now she was on her feet again and her dignity demanded that she should make light of the whole incident. Certainly when an inconsiderate fate sent Leon Hanson across her path again at such an ill-timed moment she should not have begun to cry like a frightened schoolgirl.

  But she could not stop crying and she put her hands up to her eyes to screen them from his gaze. The tears trickled through her fingers, when all at once his amusement abated and he inquired sharply, “Have you hurt yourself? Tell me, how bad was your fall?”

  “It wasn
’t a—a bad fall at all. I simply rolled down the slope.”

  “But did you twist your ankle or anything like that? Are you in any pain?”

  “No. I—yes—no—no. I don’t think so!”

  Her shoulders were shaking so that he put his arm about them and held them firmly.

  “Stop crying! ” he ordered.

  “I c-can’t,” she answered, looked at him for a moment with drowned eyes and then found his handkerchief thrust into her hand.

  He gazed down at her consideringly, her bright head with its scarlet cap on a level with the tip of his chin.

  “If you don’ t stop crying I’ ll kiss you! ” he threatened and all at once she drew away, gave a little gasp, choked, mopped at her eyes with his handkerchief and then looked up at him apologetically. As if by the miraculous wave of a wand he had succeeded in stemming the flow of tears, and the scarlet that once more invaded her cheeks was this time the result of acute humiliation—although his threat might have had something to do with it as well!

  “I rather thought that would do the trick,” he murmured and smiled humorously again. Virginia, experiencing a sudden reaction, could not prevent herself from smiling wanly, too.

  “I’ m so sorry I made such a—such an exhibition of myself! ” she apologized. “I can’t think why I did.”

  “Can’ t you?” He regarded her with a whimsical gleam in his eyes. “Well, if you’ll sit down for a moment I’ll examine your ankle. I

  believe that left one’s troubling you, isn’t it?”

  Virginia admitted that it was and he made a careful examination. There was not a large amount of swelling, but the ankle had received a nasty twist.

  “I don’t think you’ll do much skiing for the next few days,” he told her, “but there’s nothing seriously wrong and certainly nothing is broken. ”

  He was kneeling in the unblemished snow at her feet and for the first time she was sufficiently calm to take in all the details of his appearance. He wore a pale primrose-colored windbreaker of soft and supple suede, a black scarf wound about his heck, black gloves and black pants thrust into heavy ski boots. He was hatless and his black hair looked like a wing of satin in the sunshine, and his healthy tan was most attractive. When he smiled at her his teeth flashed white in the sunshine, that was becoming moment by moment more noticeably tinged with red, and although his eyes twinkled at her there was none of the hostility she had last seen in them on the night when she had dined with General Maddison and his son.