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Valour by Warwick Deeping

Author:Warwick Deeping [Deeping, Warwick]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: General Fiction, Novel

Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada

Published: 1934-03-08T05:00:00+00:00

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Valour by Warwick Deeping

CHAPTER XX

Early in October Janet Yorke received that letter in which Pierce had hinted at an imminent catastrophe. His confessions were too frank for her to doubt his meaning, and she was shocked, frightened, and confounded.

She found herself beset by all manner of impulses, all manner of emotions, the most diverse fears and hopes.

 

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Valour by Warwick Deeping

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Valour by Warwick Deeping

 

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Valour by Warwick Deeping

Author:Warwick Deeping [Deeping, Warwick] , Date: June 11, 2019

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Author:Warwick Deeping [Deeping, Warwick]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Tags: General Fiction, Novel

Publisher: Distributed Proofreaders Canada

Published: 1934-03-08T05:00:00+00:00
CHAPTER XX

Early in October Janet Yorke received that letter in which Pierce had hinted at an imminent catastrophe. His confessions were too frank for her to doubt his meaning, and she was shocked, frightened, and confounded.

She found herself beset by all manner of impulses, all manner of emotions, the most diverse fears and hopes.

Perhaps he was sickening for some illness, and had written that letter in a moment of feverish misery.

But then her prophetic intuition had foretold some such crisis in the life of this man. She could not escape from her own intimate readings of Pierce’s character; even her love had to give evidence against itself. Her imagination had spun a web, and she was but reading the tale that her own soul had woven.

Perhaps these were some of the most miserable days of Janet’s life. Her hopes tantalised her, like wayward streams of sunlight on a cloudy day. She pictured that rallying letter of hers reaching him, and inflaming his pride. She pictured him sick, snatched away from that mad, self-willed crisis, feeble and safe in some white ship on the sea. She even pictured him dead, dead at his post, stricken down with honour, dead but unshamed.

Love—ideal love—is a mingling of many tendernesses, frailties and strengths, and there was a mother-pity in Janet’s heart for this man of hers, who, like a passionate child, was trying to break unbreakable things. His egotism shocked her and filled her with compassion. Yet this love of hers had set up a dear pride, a white statue sacred to valour and chivalry; it was the ideal of a sensitive and proud girl, an emblem that she could show to other women, and remain tranquil and unashamed.

All this had to be borne in silence. Her loyalty and her pride held her from rushing to confide in Grace Hansard or Porteous Hammersly. She kept the secret even from her mother, standing bravely by the hope that Pierce had written that letter in a moment of acute misery or of savage exasperation. She was bound by her honour to remain silent, lest she should bring her man and her love for him into needless contempt.

There were moments when she reproached herself with the accusation that she had not helped Pierce as she might have helped him. The ordeal was, perhaps, more terrible than she had imagined. She wondered whether she had made it clear to him that her love was mingled with pride, that she would rather suffer any anguish than hear him charged with dishonour.

And here her woman’s love stood at the parting of the ways. She had to choose, as thousands of women have had to choose, between loving a weakling and losing a brave man. There may be a hundred excuses to be made for the man whose soul has failed him; a woman’s mother-love may bleed with understanding and with pity, and yet——! The great renunciation may have shone in her eyes; she may have shed brave tears and sent her man to talk with Death in the mud and the rain.

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