It was over two years before I returned to England. They were not easyyears. I wrote to Sophia and heard from her fairly frequently. Her letters,like mine, were not love letters. They were letters written to each other byclose friends—they dealt with ideas and thoughts and with comments onthe daily trend of life. Yet I know that as far as I was concerned, and I be-lieved as far as Sophia was concerned too, our feelings for each othergrew and strengthened.
I returned to England on a soft grey day in September. The leaves on thetrees were golden in the evening light. There were playful gusts1 of wind.
From the airfield2 I sent a telegram to Sophia.
“Just arrived back. Will you dine this evening Mario’s nine o’clockCharles.”
A couple of hours later I was sitting reading the Times; and scanning theBirths, Marriages and Deaths column my eye was caught by the name Le-onides:
On Sept. 19th, at Three Gables,
Swinly Dean, Aristide Leonides,
beloved husband of Brenda Le-
onides, in his eighty-eighth year.
Deeply regretted.
There was another announcement immediately below:
Leonides — Suddenly, at his residence, Three Gables,Swinly Dean, Aristide Leonides. Deeply mourned by hisloving children and grandchildren. Flowers to St. Eldred’sChurch, Swinly Dean.
I found the two announcements rather curious. There seemed to havebeen some faulty staff work resulting in overlapping3. But my main preoc-cupation was Sophia. I hastily sent her a second telegram:
“Just seen news of your grandfather’s death. Very sorry.
Let me know when I can see you. Charles.”
A telegram from Sophia reached me at six o’clock at my father’s house.
It said:
“Will be at Mario’s nine o’clock. Sophia.”
The thought of meeting Sophia again made me both nervous and ex-cited. The time crept by with maddening slowness. I was at Mario’s wait-ing twenty minutes too early. Sophia herself was only five minutes late.
It is always a shock to meet again someone whom you have not seen fora long time but who has been very much present in your mind during thatperiod. When at last Sophia came through the swing doors our meetingseemed completely unreal. She was wearing black, and that, in some curi-ous way, startled me. Most other women were wearing black, but I got itinto my head that it was definitely mourning—and it surprised me thatSophia should be the kind of person who did wear black—even for a nearrelative.
We had cocktails—then went and found our table. We talked rather fastand feverishly—asking after old friends of the Cairo days. It was artificialconversation, but it tided us over the first awkwardness. I expressed com-miseration for her grandfather’s death and Sophia said quietly that it hadbeen “very sudden.” Then we started off again reminiscing. I began to feel,uneasily, that something was the matter—something, I mean, other thanthe first natural awkwardness of meeting again. There was somethingwrong, definitely wrong, with Sophia herself. Was she, perhaps, going totell me that she had found some other man whom she cared for more thanshe did for me? That her feeling for me had been “all a mistake?”
Somehow I didn’t think it was that—I didn’t know what it was. Mean-while we continued our artificial talk.
Then, quite suddenly, as the waiter placed coffee on the table and re-tired bowing, everything swung into focus. Here were Sophia and I sittingtogether as so often before at a small table in a restaurant. The years ofour separation might never have been.
“Sophia,” I said.
And immediately she said, “Charles!”
I drew a deep breath of relief.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” I said. “What’s been the matter with us?”
“Probably my fault. I was stupid.”
“But it’s all right now?”
“Yes, it’s all right now.”
We smiled at each other.
“Darling!” I said. And then: “How soon will you marry me?”
Her smile died. The something, whatever it was, was back.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not sure, Charles, that I can ever marryyou.”
“But, Sophia! Why not? Is it because you feel I’m a stranger? Do youwant time to get used to me again? Is there someone else? No—” I brokeoff. “I’m a fool. It’s none of those things.”
“No, it isn’t.” She shook her head. I waited. She said in a low voice:
“It’s my grandfather’s death.”
“Your grandfather’s death? But why? What earthly difference can thatmake? You don’t mean—surely you can’t imagine—is it money? Hasn’t heleft any? But surely, dearest—”
“It isn’t money.” She gave a fleeting4 smile. “I think you’d be quite willingto ‘take me in my shift,’ as the old saying goes. And grandfather never lostany money in his life.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s just his death—you see, I think, Charles, that he didn’t just—die. Ithink he may have been—killed….”
I stared at her.
“But—what a fantastic idea. What made you think of it?”
“I didn’t think of it. The doctor was queer to begin with. He wouldn’tsign a certificate. They’re going to have a post-mortem. It’s quite clear thatthey suspect something is wrong.”
I didn’t dispute that with her. Sophia had plenty of brains; any conclu-sions she had drawn5 could be relied upon.
Instead I said earnestly:
“Their suspicions may be quite unjustified. But putting that aside, sup-posing that they are justified6, how does that affect you and me?”
“It might under certain circumstances. You’re in the Diplomatic Service.
They’re rather particular about wives. No—please don’t say all the thingsthat you’re bursting to say. You’re bound to say them—and I believe youreally think them — and theoretically I quite agree with them. But I’mproud—I’m devilishly proud. I want our marriage to be a good thing foreveryone—I don’t want to represent one-half of a sacrifice for love! And,as I say, it may be all right….”
“You mean the doctor—may have made a mistake?”
“Even if he hasn’t made a mistake, it won’t matter—so long as the rightperson killed him.”
“What do you mean, Sophia?”
“It was a beastly thing to say. But, after all, one might as well be honest.”
She forestalled7 my next words.
“No, Charles, I’m not going to say any more. I’ve probably said too muchalready. But I was determined8 to come and meet you tonight—to see youmyself and make you understand. We can’t settle anything until this iscleared up.”
“At least tell me about it.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t want to.”
“But—Sophia—”
“No, Charles. I don’t want you to see us from my angle. I want you to seeus unbiased from the outside point of view.”
“And how am I to do that?”
She looked at me, a queer light in her brilliant blue eyes.
“You’ll get that from your father,” she said.
I had told Sophia in Cairo that my father was Assistant Commissioner9 ofScotland Yard. He still held that office. At her words, I felt a cold weightsettling down on me.
“It’s as bad as that, then?”
“I think so. Do you see a man sitting at a table by the door all alone—rather a nice looking stolid11 ex-Army type?”
“Yes.”
“He was on Swinly Dean platform this evening when I got into thetrain.”
“You mean he’s followed you here?”
“Yes. I think we’re all—how does one put it?—under observation. Theymore or less hinted that we’d all better not leave the house. But I was de-termined to see you.” Her small square chin shot out pugnaciously12. “I gotout of the bathroom window and shinned down the water-pipe.”
“Darling!”
“But the police are very efficient. And of course there was the telegram Isent you. Well—never mind—we’re here—together … But from now on,we’ve both got to play a lone10 hand.”
She paused and then added:
“Unfortunately—there’s no doubt—about our loving each other.”
“No doubt at all,” I said. “And don’t say unfortunately. You and I havesurvived a world war, we’ve had plenty of near escapes from suddendeath—and I don’t see why the sudden death of just one old man—howold was he, by the way?”
“Eighty-seven.”
“Of course. It was in the Times. If you ask me, he just died of old age, andany self-respecting GP would accept the fact.”
“If you’d known my grandfather,” said Sophia, “you’d have been sur-prised at his dying of anything!”
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1
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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airfield
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| n.飞机场 | |
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overlapping
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| adj./n.交迭（的） | |
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fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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forestalled
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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pugnaciously
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