Will You Love Me in September

"Oh, Lance ... Lance ... thank you ... thank you.”

"But ..." He hesitated, and I felt I was going mad with the suspense.

"He is being transported to Virginia.”

"Transported!”

Lance nodded. "He'll be on his way now ... to the colony there. Quite a number of them have gone. It was his youth ... and the fact that Carl did what he could .

. . that saved his life.”

"But he has gone away ... to Virginia. That's miles and miles ... over the sea.”

"It's a long way," agreed Lance.

"And when ... ?”

"For fourteen years.”

"Fourteen years. I shall be an old woman then... .”

"Oh, no ... no ..." soothed Lance.

"I fear I shall never see him again," I said quietly.

Lance looked at me sadly.

"But we saved his life," he said.

The Wedding

It was a hot June day. The following morning I was to be married. I was trying to look into the future and kept telling myself: It will be all right. It's the best thing that could happen. Everyone is pleased. Everyone is sure I am going to be happy.

They must be right.

It was more than three years since Dickon had been sent to Virginia, but sometimes it seemed as though he were still with me. I had been dreaming of him in those weeks before my marriage. I could see him clearly, remember every detail of his face as he had stood there when he said goodbye; I fancied his eyes were full of reproach.

We were only children, I told myself, and we had met in such strange circumstances.

It was only natural that we should feel as we did. We did not really know each other-not as I knew Lance.

Over the last three years Lance had been a constant visitor to Eversleigh, and when I became aware that he came to see me, I will not pretend that I was not flattered.

I looked forward to his visits. I began to realize that they were the highlights of the weeks. He brought little gifts from London or any part of the country he happened to have visited. We laughed a great deal together; we rode; we walked; and the family looked on with growing approval. And at last it came-the proposal of marriage.

I refused him. How could I marry anyone while I was waiting for Dickon? He will come home for me, I used to tell myself, and when he does I must be ready for him.

The family was disappointed. They had made up their minds that Lance would be the ideal match for me. He was older than I, but as Damaris said, I needed an older man.

He was comfortably off financially, of an extremely pleasant humor; he was excellent company and approved of by Uncle Carl and therefore a very welcome visitor to Eversleigh.

Damaris tried to persuade me to reconsider his proposal. Arabella said it would be a good thing if we married; Uncle Carl said it would be an ideal match; and even Great-grandfather Carleton said he could see nothing wrong with the young man.

Lance seemed to take my refusal more calmly than anyone. He continued to call and made it clear that he enjoyed my company still. That suited me, for I knew now how much I should hate it if he removed his friendship and his visits ceased.

He understood about Dickon, he said. That almost uncanny understanding of other people's minds was one of the most attractive aspects of his character. He was patient, gentle and tender and gave me the impression that, while he would not worry me with his importunings, he was sure it would all come right in the end.

There came a day when I paid a visit to London with Damaris and Jeremy. It had been planned suddenly, as Jeremy had to go to town and Damaris had thought it would be a good idea if we accompanied him. We arrived in the late afternoon and went immediately to the family's town house, where we were to stay for the few days we should be there.

The next morning I was up early and suddenly decided that it would be amusing to pay an early call on Lance. I was sure he would be delighted to see me and that we were to stay for a little while.

I took a sedan to the house in Albemarle Street. It was only about ten o'clock. I had always enjoyed the streets of London and was thrilled to be carried through them in my chair. Everything was so colorful. I delighted in the sedans, such as the one in which I was traveling, carrying, even at this early hour, elegantly clad ladies and gentlemen. One could see the latest fashions, which these bewigged and painted ladies and gentlemen liked to display. I was quizzed by one or two gentlemen passing in their chairs and I shrank back farther into my seat, feeling very much the country girl. In contrast to these brilliant people were the beggars and street tradesmen.

These fascinated me, and I was conscious of the tremendous noise everywhere. The newsmen were blowing in their tin trumpets to announce they had the Gazette or whatever journal they were selling; the bellows menders and the knife grinders squatted on the cobbles working at their tasks and calling out all the time; while the Colly Molly Puff man who sold nis Pies stood side by side with a milkmaid.