Big Game - A Story for Girls

Margot crept down the darkened staircase, treading with precaution as

she passed her sister's room. The hall beneath was in utter darkness,

for it was against Agnes's economical instincts to leave a light burning

after eleven o'clock, even for the convenience of the master of the

house. When Mr Vane demurred, she pointed out that it was the easiest

thing in the world for him to put a match to the candle which was left

waiting for his use, and that each electric light cost--she had worked

it all out, and mentioned a definite and substantial sum which would be

wasted by the end of the year if the light were allowed to burn in hall

or staircase while he enjoyed his nightly read and smoke.

"Would you wish this money to be wasted?" she asked calmly; and thus

questioned, there was no alternative but to reply in the negative. It

would never do for the head of the house to pose as an advocate of

extravagance; but all the same he was irritated by the necessity, and

with Agnes for enforcing it.

Margot turned the handle of the door and stood upon the threshold

looking across the room.

It was as she had imagined. On the big leather chair beside the

tireless grate sat Mr Vane, one hand supporting the pipe at which he

was drearily puffing from time to time, the other hanging limp and idle

by his side. Close at hand stood his writing-table, the nearer corner

piled high with books, papers, and reviews, but to-night they had

remained undisturbed. The inner tragedy of the man's own life had

precluded interest in outside happenings. He wanted his wife! That was

the incessant cry of his heart, which, diminished somewhat by the

passage of the years, awoke to fresh intensity at each new crisis of

life! The one love of his youth and his manhood; the dearest, wisest,

truest friend that was ever sent by God to be the helpmeet of man--why

had she been taken from him just when he needed her most, when the

children were growing up, and her son, the longed-for Benjamin, was at

his most susceptible age? It was a mystery which could never be solved

this side of the grave. As a Christian Mr Vane hung fast to the belief

that love and wisdom were behind the cloud; but, though his friends

commented on his bravery and composure, no one but himself knew at what

a cost his courage was sustained. Every now and then, when the longing

was like an ache in his soul, and when he felt weary and dispirited, and

irritated by the self-will of the children who were children no longer,

then, alas! he was apt to forget himself, and to utter bitter, hasty

words which would have grieved her ears, if she had been near to

listen. After each of these outbreaks he suffered tortures of remorse

and loneliness, realising that by his own deed he had alienated his

children; grieving because they did not, could not understand!