Gwladys had removed her sister"s hat, and as she stood now before Mrs.
Power, in the full light of the lamp and the fire, that poor lady was smitten by the same bewilderment which had taken possession of William at the front door. She could only e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e:
"Gracious goodness, Gwladys! What is the meaning of this? Who is it, child? and which are you? Are you this one or that one? For heaven"s sake say something, or I shall be quite confused."
"It"s Valmai, auntie, my twin-sister, though you could not remember her name, but of whom I have thought often and often. Auntie, you will welcome her for my sake? Is she not the very image of me? alike--nay, not so, but the same, the very same, only in two bodies. Oh, Valmai!
Valmai! why have we been separated so long?" and, sinking into a chair, she trembled with agitation.
Mrs. Power held her hands out, though not very cordially. She was beginning to arrange her ideas.
"Welcome her! Why, of course, of course. How do you do, my dear?
Very glad to see you, I am sure, though I can"t think where you have dropped from. Gwladys, calm yourself; I am surprised at you. I thought you were in Figi, or Panama, or Macedonia, or some place of that kind."
"Patagonia," said Valmai, smiling. "My parents both died there, and I have come home to live in Wales again--"
"Well, to be sure," said Mrs. Power, rubbing one hand over another, her favourite action. "Come, Gwladys, don"t cry--don"t be silly; as your sister is here, she will stay with us a week or so. Can you, my dear?"
"Yes," said Valmai, whose clear mind quickly drew its own conclusions and formed its own plans. "Yes, indeed, I hoped you would ask me to stay a week or so; but do not think I am come to be dependent on you.
No, I am well off, but I had an intense longing to see my sister; and having no ties or claims upon me, I made up my mind to find her out before I settled down into some new life."
Alas, poor human nature! The few words, "I am well off," influenced Mrs. Besborough Power at once in her reception of the friendless girl.
"Of course, my dear, stay as long as you like. Go upstairs now and take your things off, and after dinner you shall tell us all your story."
And arm-in-arm the two girls left the room, "like twin cherries on a stalk." The resemblance between them was bewildering; every line of feature, every tone of colouring was the same.
"Let us stand together before this cheval gla.s.s," said Gwladys, "and have a good look at each other. Oh, Valmai, my beloved sister, I feel as if I had known you all my life, and could never bear to part with you."
And as they stood side by side before the gla.s.s, they were themselves astonished, puzzled, and amused at the exact likeness of one to the other. The same broad forehead, in which, at the temples, the blue veins showed so plainly, the same depth of tenderness in the blue eyes, the same slender neck, and the same small hands; the only difference lay in the expression, for over Gwladys"s upper lip and half-drooped eyelids hovered a shade of pride and haughtiness which was absent from Valmai"s countenance.
"Oh, see," she said playfully, "there is a difference--that little pink mole on my arm. Valmai, you haven"t got it."
"No," said Valmai, critically examining her wrist, with rather a dissatisfied look, "I haven"t got that; but in everything else we are just alike. How lovely you are, Gwladys."
"And you, Valmai, how sweet." And again they embraced each other.
"I have no dress to change for dinner, dear. Do you dress?"
"Oh, only just a little, and I won"t at all this evening. How strange we should both be in mourning, too! Mine is for Mrs. Power"s sister.
Who are you wearing black for?"
A hot blush suffused Valmai"s face and neck as she answered slowly:
"I am not in mourning, but thought black would be nice to travel in. I generally wear white."
"How strange! so do I," said Gwladys; "white or something very light.
Shall we go down, dear? Would you like a bedroom to yourself, or shall we sleep together?"
"Oh, let us sleep together!"
And with arms thrown over each other"s shoulders, they descended the broad staircase, just as Mrs. Power, in answer to William"s summons, was crossing the hall to the dining-room.
"Here we are, auntie, or here I am and here is she."
"Come along, then, my dears."
"Well, indeed, I never did," said William, when he entered the kitchen; "no, I never, never did see such a likeness between two young leddies.
They are the same picture as each other! And missus says to me, "William," she says, "this is Miss Gwladys"s sister, her twin-sister,"
she says, "Miss Valmai Powell." And I couldn"t say nothing, if you believe me, with my eyes as big as saucers. Ach y fi! there"s an odd thing!"
In the drawing-room after dinner there were endless questions and answers, each one seeming to find in the other"s history a subject of the deepest interest. Mrs. Besborough Power, especially, with her nose in the air, sometimes looking over her spectacles, and sometimes under them, sometimes through them, did not hesitate to question Valmai on the minutest particulars of her life hitherto--questions which the latter found it rather difficult to answer without referring to the last eighteen months.
"H"m!" said Mrs. Power, for the twentieth time, "and ever since your father"s death you have been living with your uncle?"
"With my uncles, first one and then the other; and the last few months with dear Nance, my old nurse."
"What! Nance Owen? Is she alive still?"
"Yes; she is, indeed."
"She must be very old now?"
"Yes, and frail; but as loving and tender as ever."
And so on, and so on, until bed-time; and the two girls were once more together in their bedroom.
The maid, who was deeply interested in the strange visitor, lingered about the toilet-table a little unnecessarily, until Gwladys, in a voice which, though not unkind, showed she was more accustomed to command than Valmai, said:
"That will do, thank you, I will do my own hair to-night. My sister and I wish to talk." And, having dismissed Maria, she drew two cosy chairs round the wood fire.
"Come along, Valmai, now we can chat to our heart"s content." And soon, with feet on fender and hair unloosed, the sisters talked and talked, as if making up for the long years of silence which had divided them.
"And how happy that neither of us is married," said Gwladys. "We might never have met then, dear."
"Possibly," said Valmai.
"And what a good thing we haven"t the same lover to quarrel about."
"Yes," said Valmai, rather absently. She was struggling hard with the tumult of feelings which she had hitherto restrained, endeavouring to smile and laugh as the occasion required; but now the tide of emotions, which had been pent up all day, threatened to burst its bonds.
"What is it, dear?" said Gwladys. "What makes your voice tremble so?
There is something you are hiding from me?" and, flinging herself down on the hearth-rug at Valmai"s feet, she clasped her arms around her knees, and leant her head on her lap, while Valmai, giving way to the torrent of tears which had overpowered her, bent her own head over her sister"s until their long unbound hair was mingled together.
"Oh, Gwladys! Gwladys!" she said, between her sobs, "yes, I have hidden something from you. Something, oh, everything--the very point and meaning of my life. And I must still hide it from you. Gwladys, can you trust me? Can you believe your sister is pure and good when she tells you that the last eighteen months of her life must be hidden from you? Not because they contain anything shameful, but because circ.u.mstances compel her to silence."
The effect of these words upon Gwladys was, at first, to make her rigid and cold as stone. She drew herself away from her sister, gently but firmly, and, standing before her with blanched face and parched lips, said:
"I thought it was too good to be true; that I, who have so longed for a sister"s love, should have my desire so fully satisfied seemed too good for earth, and now I see it was. There is a secret between us, a shadow, Valmai; tell me something more, for pity"s sake!"