Gossamer Cord

We went back to the house and lunched with Matilda alone. Dermot and Dorabella had gone to Plymouth and would be lunching there, and my father had gone off with Gordon to look at some damage which had been done to one of the gates on the home farm.

“What shall you do this afternoon?” asked my mother, and I told her I should either take a walk or a ride.

“Don’t bother about coming with me. I’m quite happy to go alone.”

“Well, we’ll meet later on.”

I decided to ride. I enjoyed ambling along through the narrow winding lane with little danger of getting lost because once one found the sea one knew where one was.

I went to the stables. One of the grooms came out at once.

“You be wanting Starlight, Miss?” he asked.

“Yes, please. I thought I’d take her for a short ride.”

“She’ll like that. Get on well with ’er, do ’ee, Miss? Her’s a good little creature, that ’un.”

“Yes. I like her very much.”

“I’ll get her ready for ’ee if you give me a minute.”

He said a few words on the topic which was on everybody’s lips: the gale.

“It be hoped we don’t have another just yet. They’m got a habit of coming in twos and threes. Started late this year.”

We chatted for a while and then I was ready to leave.

The air was fresh. I could smell the sea. The wind was coming in—not exactly gentle but exhilarating.

I turned away from the sea. I decided to explore a little inland today.

I rode along thoughtfully. I was thinking of Dorabella and could not help wondering how she would settle into life here. She was ecstatically happy just now and would be until the wedding. And then? I wondered.

I liked Dermot, but against the background of his home, it seemed that there was something lightweight about him. In Germany he had been so self-sufficient. The manner in which he had brought us out of the forest had given him a knightly and masterful image in our eyes. I kept seeing him in contrast to Gordon Lewyth, who was so absorbed in the estate that he could only be mildly interested in visitors—except my father, who could talk with him on his own subject.

It was strange how people could change when seen against a different background. I tried to brush off feelings of uneasiness which had come to me since I had arrived in this place.

I had mounted a slight incline and come to a winding path. I had not been this way before.

The rain which had accompanied last night’s gale had made the countryside glisteningly fresh. It was a pleasure to inhale the scents of the trees and shrubs mingling with that of the damp earth.

It was quiet apart from the soughing of the light wind in the trees making a soft moaning sound.

I pulled up and looked round.

I was thinking: Two more days and we shall be going home.

When I was away from all this I should see it more clearly. I would talk to my parents and I would discover what they felt about the situation. One thing was certain: They could not share my feelings, for they would have shown them if they had; and they seemed quite contented.

There was a fork at the end of the road. I pulled up, wondering whether to take the right or left turn.

I decided on the right.

I rode on, still thinking of Dorabella. She really knew so little of them. His family showed no objections, but I was uneasy. What was it? My overactive imagination? My sense of melodrama? Was it because I was going to lose my sister…well, not exactly lose her, but our lives would no longer be close as they had been until now? The parting would be exciting to her. But what of me?

It was selfish in a way. Was that why I was trying to convince myself that it might not be right for her?

I had come to an open space bordered by trees. There was nothing growing there. Commonland, I supposed.

Starlight threw back her head. She was tired of ambling. She wanted movement. Almost before I could indicate that I agreed with her, she had broken into a canter and we started across the field. I was not sure how it happened. One never is on such occasions. Time itself seemed to slow down. I did see the tree…but not until it was too late. It seemed to sway before my eyes and then it was lying right across my path.

Starlight pulled up sharply and I felt myself thrown sideways. Fortunately she immediately stood perfectly still. I slipped rather inelegantly out of the saddle and fell to the ground. I could sense the tension in the mare, but she was well trained. If she had galloped off at that time I should have been badly injured, for my foot was caught in the stirrup. Hastily I dislodged it and just at that moment I heard the sound of hoofbeats.

As I scrambled to my feet I saw a rider coming toward me. He pulled up sharply, slipped out of the saddle, and gazed at me in horrified surprise.

Then he cried: “Are you all right?”

“I think so.”

“Any pain anywhere?”

“I don’t think so. I just slid down.”

He looked at me anxiously for a moment. “Seems all right. Nothing broken…”

“Oh, no. It wasn’t violent enough for that. My horse was standing still when I fell.”