Midsummer's Eve

"Good afternoon," I said. I knew that he was watching me as I went into the house.

He made me feel very uneasy. Perhaps it was due to Maud's assurances that he was certain to get his own way. He always had, she implied; and he always would.

That evening I was very tired. My illness had left me weaker than I had realized.

I said I would rest and not join them for the evening meal.

I had a good deal to think about. The sale of the property must not go through until I had left. I should hate to think that I was under his roof. I supposed that it could be arranged fairly quickly; but by agreeing that the sale should go ahead, I had made it necessary for us to make our plans about leaving.

Maud came in with a tray.

I said I was not hungry.

"I've brought you a little soup. It'll do you good. Try it. It just slips down. And there's some hot damper to go with it.”

She sat beside the bed and I took the tray.

"It's made from the remains of the lamb ... full of goodness. I always like to get the last bit of nourishment out of everything.”

She watched me while I spooned the soup into my mouth.

She said: "I hope you don't think the worse of me after our little talk.”

"No, Maud, I understand perfectly. I know how you must feel having a daughter like Rosa and wanting the best for her. It's natural.”

"Well, there are few chances out here. I sometimes wonder if I ought to try to get back home. But what could we do there? I'd have to work and so would she. It wouldn't be much better than here.”

"No. It seems that Gregory Donnelly is the big catch, especially when he owns this place.”

"Is that going through then?" "I think it very likely.”

"You're wise. You wouldn't want to come out here again.”

"There are too many bitter memories ... but there will be at home, too. They are everywhere. There is no escaping them.”

I had finished the soup. She took the tray and said: "Thank you for being so understanding.”

That night I was very ill.

I knew it was the soup.

Oh, Maud, I thought, how little I knew you! Do you want to be rid of me so much?

I felt so ill at moments that I thought I was going to die.

It was about four in the morning before the griping pains and the sickness stopped and I began to feel a little better.

I sank back into my bed with relief. I was still alive.

Yet it had not been long ago when I was thinking longingly of death. I had wanted to be with them. I had felt it was unfair that they should go and I be left behind; but now I felt this overwhelming sense of relief.

I was alive and I wanted to live.

Oddly enough it was anger which had begun to lift me out of my abject melancholy and now I had to be nearly poisoned to realize how niuch I wanted to live.

I lay there thinking of Maud, for it was Maud who had made the soup and brought it to me, who had been so eager for me to take it, and who had sat there watching me put every spoonful into my mouth.

She wanted me out of the way. She did not believe that I would not marry Gregory Donnelly; she could not conceive of any woman's not wanting him. And how desperately she wanted the right marriage for her daughter.

Who would have believed that she would go to such lengths?

I was in danger. I must get out of this place. Passions ran high in places like this.

Life was not sacred here; there were too many hazards which made it cheap. People were fighting for their existences and if anyone stood in the way of what was the utmost importance to them they eliminated them.

But Maud! Calm and dignified Maud! Was it possible? Desperately she wanted that marriage for her daughter. She had betrayed herself to me when she talked of it. She wanted to see Rosa secure and in spite of all my protestations she did not believe I was not affected by his charms.

My body was limp and exhausted but my mind was active.

I went over that conversation we had had, trying to remember every word. I thought of her sitting by my bed, urging me to eat. Maud had done it. I would not have believed it possible but once again I was faced with the fact that one could never be sure what people would do in what to them was an emergency.

I felt too weak to get up the next morning. Nobody came, which was extraordinary.

At length I got out of bed and went to Helena's room.

She was lying on her bed looking ill.

"Oh, Annora," she said. "I've had such a night. I have been so terribly ill. I am sure it was the soup.”

"You, too. I thought it was just myself.”

I went to the kitchen. No one was there. Were they all suffering from the poisonous soup?

A little later one of the women came over to the house.

She said: "Maud sent me. Everyone who took that soup last night is ill. I'm glad I didn't have any of it." I felt a great sense of relief. I was glad that I could go on thinking of Maud as I always had.

It took several days for everyone to recover.

Maud said: "It was all my fault. I thought the meat might be a bit off. But it didn't seem much. I might have poisoned the lot of us. I had two helpings. Serves me right.