Chapter 4: Shirley's Proposal

Una wended her way home through the growing dusk, lost in her
thoughts. The sun had finally completed its slow journey into the bay and
a clear, cloudless night had fallen. The stars were beginning to come out
and the moon shown like a golden beacon in the sky. It cast enough light
for everything to be seen about her. The tang of dying things was in the
air, and on the way home Una was surrounded by ghosts of things that
might-have-been.

She met Shirley Blythe on the lane to the manse, and greeted him
companionably. Oh – Una considered Shirley prosy by daylight – but by
moonlight he was touched with a shade of poetry, as all prosy things are.
There was just a hint of sadness on his face that had not been there in
auld lang syne. Una did not like to think of Shirley being sad, but she felt
now that they understood each other more than they had in the days
before the war, when Shirley had been another jolly, roguish chap.

But they had always been good friends, and, each the quietest member of
a boisterous clan, they were often thrown together. Shirley silently offered
Una his arm now, and she took it, without a word.

Una thought now, as she had so many times before, that she really could
not have lived through these past years without Shirley. Why – he made
life bearable. He did not pester her like the others – though they meant
well. But someone always wanted to know Una's plans – her hopes –
what she was going to do with herself – and Shirley did not ask her. He
was contented to let her be, and at the times when the grey fog
threatened to envelop her completely, there was Shirley coming through it
to take her on a moon spree and the fog suddenly lifted. How did he
always know when to come? Yes – Una was thankful for Shirley. His
friendship and companionship were so dear to her.

They shared a comfortable silence as they walked toward the manse.

Una's thoughts were very troubled, but her face was serene, and Shirley
looked at her with admiration, appreciating those long lashes over
carefully hidden blue eyes—that smooth, sleek bob—that long, white
neck. What a pretty, womanly thing she was! Like a dusky, romantic little
pansy.

Of course Shirley was always quiet, but to-night Una felt that he was
bordering on melancholy.

"You are thinking – of Susan?" she asked.

Shirley nodded, his face turned toward the shadows. Una put her thin
white hand on his shoulder. Her eyes told him that he might tell her
anything.

"It seems ridiculous that she should be gone. The house is so quiet
without Susan – Mother Susan. Susan was another mother to me, you
know. It seems such a long time since I've told her I loved her – she grew
to be a habit with me – if only I had gotten the chance to tell her once
more!"

If only – if only so many people had gotten that chance! How crowded
with love the world would be – or perhaps crowded with heartbreak. For
all that loved could certainly not be loved back – not in the same way.
Could they?

Shirley told Una of Susan's legacy then and his words seemed to whirl
about her. One thousand dollars! Shirley wanted to use it to buy a farm –
but he would only get it if he was married! If he was married! And here
was Shirley telling her that he would take it.

A queer sort of feeling began to grow in Una's chest. She could not put a
name to it but it was not the pleasantest of feelings. "Who are you going
to marry, Shirley?"

A while ago there had been a rumour, a hideous rumour, that Shirley
would marry Irene Howard. There is a woman like Irene in every village –
a woman who persists in being treated like a girl – who is jealous of all
other girls – who feels big only when she makes others feel small. People
had believed that Shirley would marry Irene but Una had never thought
he would. Something like a small white flame of truth in her chest told her
that Shirley – friend Shirley – would never do that. But – perhaps she had
been wrong? Una told herself it was only curiosity that made her heart
beat so.

Here was Shirley facing her now – taking her hand in his own – why, what
was he doing now? Una thought for a reckless moment that Shirley was
going to bring her little hand to his lips – but he only held it to his chest.

"I thought," he said, "That I'd marry you – if you will have me."

And here was the moment that Una had hoped would not happen. For
some time – mostly on clear, cloudless nights like this one – Una had
suspected that Shirley loved her. Not in the dear, friendly way that she
loved him – but that he loved her. When daylight came again he was the
same friendly Shirley once more and Una told herself that she must be
mistaken. But now, by the light of the moon, there was no mistaking it.
"Una, why don't you marry me?" Shirley's hand was very rough—from
working outdoors—and so was his voice when he spoke. It betrayed no
hint of the emotion he had carried with him since his boyhood—the
feelings that had sustained him through the horrors of the war—the hopes
that had kept his faith alive. Una did not know that he was giving life to a
dream that he had always imagined would remain just that—a dream.
And perhaps it would not be a dream any longer!

But if Shirley's voice betrayed him not, his face did. Una took her hand
away.

"This is – ridiculous," she said. "This is about – Susan's money?"

"It isn't. I have always loved you, Una," he said, and they were the truest
words she had ever heard spoken. "I never asked before because I know
that you—that you don't love me. But I thought—if I had the money, I
could—make you happy. You won't regret it if you marry me, Una."

He began to tell her something of his rainbow dreams for the future, there
in the garden of the little manse – the neat, dear little garden that Una so
carefully tended. The smell of late-summer roses was heavy in the air
around them. Shirley painted a picture for her with his words – a very
dear picture. A house somewhere near to the Glen – close enough to the
sea to be wild on stormy nights – a roaring hearth fire. Some place full of
charm and allure and history, but with enough room for future dreams. It
really was a wonderful picture— but the dearest thing about it to Shirley
would be the little, dark-haired wife within that would make the house
come alive.

A strange thing happened to Una as he spoke. She began to feel as

though she could marry Shirley – that she could let herself be carried
away on his current of love and find out to what new lands it would take
her. She could be his wife – and live with him – and she would love him,
in her own way. But Shirley must understand that she could not love him
in the way that he loved her.

"I will never be able to love you like that," she told him, so there would be
no secrets between them.

Shirley nodded. "I understand, dear. Although, perhaps in time—"

"No!" cried Una. "I can't love you in that way, Shirley! I do love you a great
deal – only not in the way you've hoped."

"That is fine," Shirley said staunchly. "I shall be contented just loving you."
Una felt her head begin to whirl. Could this really be happening? Could
she really change the path of her life with a few well-chosen words? And
then Shirley stepped closer and looked at her beseechingly. "Say you
will." And Una found that the words she had been prepared to say had
gone from her. She could not say no.

But she could not say yes, either. "I can't tell you now, Shirley," she
choked. "Oh – I will tell you – I will give you my answer tomorrow!"

She ran up the steps and into the house, shutting the door behind her,
and leaving Shirley alone in the garden with the night.