The pool of St Branok

We went riding together. It was the only way to be by ourselves without interruption from some member of the family. I was not exactly taken aback when he pulled up his horse and suggested that we walk a little. He took my arm and we went down to the brink of the river.

It was November, but warm for the time of the year, and the bluish mist gave an air of mystery to the river and the big houses on the other side.

He said: "I expect you know what I am going to say, Angelet? It has been in my mind some time. Will you marry me?"

I hesitated.

He went on: "I love you, you know. I felt drawn to you from the moment we met and when you went chasing Fanny I was in such a state of panic and I saw how lonely I should be if I lost you."

"Marriage is too serious a step to rush into," I said.

"I agree. I have thought a lot about this. Have you?"

"I haven't thought of marriage. I am not sure that I want to ... yet."

"Of course, we have not known each other very long, but we have been through some adventures together. When I saw how you cared about Fanny ..."

"You cared very much, too. You have brought her here."

"Yes, I do care about her. I think we could have a good life together."

"Perhaps," I said.

"I can see no reason why not. We know each other well. I admire you so much. The children are already fond of you. So is Janet. Rebecca has settled in. Your mother feels friendly towards me. It seems to me that it would be ideal."

"Yes, it would be ideal from their point of view. But there is more to it than that, Tim. I think you are still in love with your wife."

"She has been dead a long time."

"She is the one ... she will always be the one."

"I can care for you, too. And you? You remember your husband. He must have been a wonderful character ... just as my wife was. We were both lucky in our marriages ... until we lost them, and both violently. That in itself draws us together. We can't go on mourning all our lives, Angelet."

"No," I said. "But I am not sure yet, Tim."

"That means you want more time to think."

"Perhaps I do. You haven't forgotten her ... and I ..."

"You mean we both really love someone else more ..."

I nodded.

"It is hard to live up to the hero Gervaise was."

I did not answer. When I had agreed that we each loved someone more I was not thinking of Gervaise, but of Ben which was absurd. I had an obsession with the man. He was continually cropping up in my thoughts. I was a fool to go on thinking of him. I should take this offer. It was second best for both of us. Surely it was a unique situation. I could wean him from his regrets for the loss of his wife; he would show me that there was no hope of a happy future for me while I thought of Ben.

It was sensible. It was reasonable. I contemplated the life we should have together in this gracious house. We could make a happy future for Fanny and the children. He would be a good and kind father for Rebecca. Our families approved. We would continue with our work at the Mission. I was a fool to turn away from it.

But I had not turned away. I knew that I would be foolish to. I saw so clearly that Timothy and I could make a good life together. But I wanted time to think ... time to come face to face with myself and this obsession with Ben. How could I be so foolish? There was a man who had married for the sake of gold, who was ruthless, determined to succeed. How could such a man be capable of the love and devotion I could expect from Timothy? Besides, Ben was married.

I knew them both well enough to know that I could find a quiet and peaceful happiness with Timothy and nothing but storm and stress from Ben. Ben's passion would be fierce. I did believe that he loved me, but he loved gold ... and power more. Timothy loved me, too, but he loved his first wife more. In time, Timothy and I could grow close together; I was sure of that; we could lay the ghosts of the past to rest ... perhaps. But can one ever compete with the dead?

I was in a quandary.

I fell back on the excuse. "I need time to think."

He understood perfectly. He always would.

"We'll wait," he said. "Let things ride for a while and then I think you will come to see, Angelet, that we have much to offer each other."

We rode thoughtfully home.

I sensed my mother's disappointment because she had been expecting an announcement.

The very next day I said to Timothy: "I think we should speak to Fanny. There was something in the papers about the murder. Her stepfather is going on trial. The result is a foregone conclusion. I know she can't read, but someone might say something to her."

So we decided to tell her ... together.

My mother and Janet knew what we intended and promised to make sure that we were not interrupted.

"We want to speak to you, Fanny," I said seriously.

She looked from one of us to the other and I saw panic in her eyes. "You're going to send me away," she said.

"We'll never do that," said Timothy. "This is your home for as long as you want it to be."

"Then what is it?" she asked.

"Your mother," I told her. "She's ... dead."