The Dower House Mystery Read Free

Her voice broke. “Now will you let me go?” she said with a sob, and stood there panting.
    Amabel got up, fairer than Daphne and a head taller.
    â€œDaphne, do control yourself.”
    â€œWill you let me go, then?”
    â€œMy dear, I can’t.” There was a weary finality in the tone.
    Scenes with Daphne were exhausting. They meant blow after blow upon the tender places of her heart—the pressure of a harder and more relentless nature than her own. She felt bruised, and very tired. But what could she do? This time Daphne was asking the impossible.
    â€œYou mean you won’t,” said Daphne on a low note that shook with pain and rage. “You won’t do it. It’s my one chance, and you won’t give it to me. Can’t you understand that I love Jimmy? Or doesn’t it mean anything to you? After all, why should it? You simply don’t understand. You gave up your own love affair pretty easily; didn’t you? And I suppose you think that everyone’s the same—but they’re not—I’m not.”
    â€œDaphne, stop!” said Amabel in quite a new voice. But Daphne went on:
    â€œYou gave up the man you were in love with, and married my father. I suppose Grandpapa and Grandmamma told you to—he was Grandpapa’s friend and about the same age, wasn’t he? Well, you couldn’t have cared much, that’s all I can say.”
    Amabel stood rigid. The blows had never been so hard as this before.
    â€œDaphne,” she said with white lips that hardly moved, and in a voice which did not rise above a whisper. “Daphne, who told you all this nonsense?”
    â€œAgatha told me—so I suppose it’s true.”
    Daphne was a little frightened now, but still defiant. After all, she hadn’t said anything very dreadful. It was absurd of Amabel to look like that. The anger, the buffeting emotion, ebbed slowly, imperceptibly; its place was taken by an odd embarrassment.
    After a silence which seemed to last a long time, Amabel moved. Crossing the room, she began to fold up the orange curtains. She folded them very carefully, and put them away in the corner cupboard. Then she came back to the window seat and sat down. She did not look at Daphne, but said gently:
    â€œSit down, Daffy.”
    And, still in the grip of that odd embarrassment, Daphne obeyed. Amabel looked at her then. The scarlet colour was gone from her cheeks; her face was white, her mouth sulky, her eyes hard and very blue.
    â€œYou know, Daphne,” said Amabel, “you don’t think. If you thought, you wouldn’t say things like that—at least, I hope you wouldn’t.” She saw the sulky look deepen, and tried again. “Daffy, you were talking nonsense just now; but it’s the sort of nonsense that hurts. I don’t know what Agatha said to you, but I want you to know the truth. It’s not right that you should think—” She broke off and waited for a moment. Her hands held one another tightly. “I’m sorry Agatha said anything. She oughtn’t to have said anything. It’s—it’s all very simple really. You don’t remember your father; but other people remember him still, you know, Daffy. If he couldn’t leave you money, he left you a very distinguished name. I used to think him the most wonderful person in the world. When he came in in the evenings and talked to my father, I used to listen and think how wonderful he was. Then, when I was seventeen, he stopped coming. I couldn’t understand why—he’d always been there, and we all loved him so much. I fretted dreadfully. Then one day my mother told me that he didn’t come because he felt it wiser to stay away for a time. She said he felt that he was getting too fond of me, and that I must be sensible, and make things easy for him and for them all. I don’t know what I said, or what I did—I was too happy. It seemed too