Saraband for Two Sisters

“To tell the truth no more am I. I’ll warrant you excel at those which are performed in the country. I think they capture the spirit of dancing more surely then these ballroom dances. I’ll warrant you excel at Leap Candle and Sellengers Round as well as Barley Break and John Come Kiss Me.”

I laughed aloud. “I love them all. We dance them at Christmastime, and when we’ve brought the harvest in we make our corn dollies to ensure a good harvest next year.»

“Ah, you make me envious of the joys of the country. I’ll tell you what we’ll do-we’ll go into the garden. We can find a seat there and we’ll talk. Would you like that?»

“I should greatly enjoy it.”

“Come then. We’ll slip away.”

He made a way through the press of people, and I was delighted to be in the fresh air, for fortunately it was a mild evening. The gardens were very beautiful. The sound of the river washing the stone steps at the water’s edge gave a soothing charm to the scene.

He found the seat. It was in a kind of arbor facing the river, its trellis sheltering us from the breeze, and there we sat.

“Tell me about the country,” he said. So I told him about my home and how because of Bersaba’s illness I had come to London.

He expressed his relief that she had recovered and asked if now I should be returning to the country, to which I replied that I should in due course. He suggested that my sister would need a long convalescence after her illness. He was sure of this because he had had a friend who had the great good fortune to recover from the disease. He went on: “And believe me it is the greatest good fortune and rarely happens. My friend believed he had had one foot in the grave and regarded it as a miracle that he had been able to draw it out in time.” I shivered and he asked if I were cold.

“No,” I said, “I was just wondering what life would be like without my sister.”

“You are twins. Tell me-is she like you?”

“So like that our mother is the only one who can tell us apart on every occasion.”

“She looks like you; she speaks as you do. Tell me, does she think as you do?»

“Ah, there is the difference, and that is great. She is much cleverer than I. She used to do my sums for me and write my essays. I did her needlework. That was about the only thing I could do better than she could. There, that tells you all you want to know about us.”

“Not all, for I confess to a great curiosity.”

I don’t think I had been so happy since I had left home. I suddenly felt that the world was a new and exciting place. A miracle had happened. Bersaba had been snatched from the grave and she would in time be well and strong again; and here was I in London in this enchanting garden, talking to a man who was one of the King’s generals-an important man who seemed interested in me and admitted he wanted to know me better. I should never have known him but for my frightening adventure. I should never have felt this elation because of Bersaba’s recovery if she had never been ill. So with every experience, it seemed however alarming at the time, came compensations. I said, ‘We talk so much about me and my affairs. You do not talk of yours.”

“Tell me what you wish to know.”

“You are a soldier. You must have seen a great many adventures, perhaps abroad.»

“Oh, yes, I have seen service overseas. As soon as I had matriculated at Cambridge I knew I wanted to be a soldier. It is in fact a tradition in my family. My father sent me to the Low Countries to learn the art of war. Later I was fighting in Spain and then France.”

“And at the moment you are at peace.”

“A soldier is always prepared for war.”

“And you are going abroad for a while?”

“Not until the need arises.”

“So now you train your men and you keep yourself in readiness. Do you have a home in the country?”

“It is outside the town. We have estates in the north which are managed by my younger brother. He did not go into the Army. My home is Far Flamstead. It lies west of Hampton. But I have quarters in the town naturally.”

“The Betrothal “As Gervaise has.”

“He is connected with the Court so it is necessary.”

“And is yours an ancient manor?”

“No, built last century, when so many such places were.”

“And you go there whenever possible to enjoy the peace of the country?” There was a sudden silence, and I looked at him sharply. His features seemed to have set themselves into a mask as he said, “I do not get much opportunity. My duties keep me in the town.”

I remembered then that Sir Gervaise had said there was some story about him which he couldn’t remember and that the General had lost his wife. I could not of course ask him questions on such a subject, but a great deal of the pleasure seemed to have evaporated. His easy manner had dropped from him; he had become secretive.