When John had been gone five months he managed to send her a note, telling her that he was well and that he loved her. “We’ll be married, Judith, when the war’s over—no matter what our parents have to say.” And he added that as soon as he could he would come, somehow, to see her again.
It was mid-June before he was able to keep his promise. Then, making up some story to tell her mother, she rode out to meet him by the little stream which ran between the two properties. It was the first time in all the years they had known each other that they had been perfectly alone, free, and unwatched; and though Judith had felt apprehensive and nervously embarrassed—now she was off her horse and into his arms without hesitation or misgiving. Never before had she felt so sure of herself, so right and content.
“I haven’t long, Judith,” he said swiftly, kissing her. “I shouldn’t be here at all—But I had to see you! Here—let me look at you. Oh, how pretty you are—prettier even than I remembered!”
She clung to him desperately, thinking that she could never let him go again. “Oh, John! John, darling—how I’ve missed you!”
“It’s
“Just the same?” she cried, her throat choking with tears of happiness and dread. “Oh, John! We love each other more! I never knew how much I loved you till you were gone and I was afraid that—Oh, this terrible, terrible war! I hate it! When will it end, John? Will it end soon?” She looked up at him like a little girl begging a favour, and her blue eyes were large and wistful and frightened.
“Soon, Judith?”
His face darkened and for several moments he was quiet while she watched him anxiously, fear creeping through her.
He slipped one arm about her waist and they started to walk, slowly, toward the river. The sky was blue with great puffs of fleecy clouds, as though a shower had just cleared; the air was full of moisture and the smell of damp earth. Along the banks grew delicate alder and willow trees and white dogwood was in bloom.
“I don’t think it will be over soon, Judith,” he said finally. “It may last a great while longer—perhaps for years.”
Judith stopped, and looked up at him incredulously. At seventeen, six months was an age, one year eternity. She could not and would not face the prospect of years going by in this way, separated.
“For years, John!” she cried. “But it can’t! What will we do? We’ll be old before we even begin to live! John—” Suddenly she grabbed him by the forearms. “Take me with you! We can be married now. Oh, I don’t care how I have to live—” she said quickly as she saw him begin to interrupt. “Other women go with the camp, I know they do, and I can go too! I’m not afraid of anything—I can—”
“Judith, darling—” His voice was pleading, his eyes tender and full of anguish. “We can’t get married now. I wouldn’t do that to you for anything in the world. Of course there are women following the camp—but not women like you, Judith. No, darling—there’s nothing for us to do but wait—It’ll end some day—It can’t go on forever—”
Suddenly everything that had happened this past year seemed real to her and sharp and with permanent meaning. He was going away, soon, this very day—and when would she see him again? Perhaps not for years—perhaps never—Suppose he was killed—She checked herself swiftly at that, not daring even to admit the possibility. There was no use pretending any longer. The War
“But, John!” she cried now, bitter and protesting. “What will happen to us then? What will you do if the King wins? And what will become of me if Parliament wins? Oh, John, I’m scared! How is it going to end?”
John turned his head, his jaw setting. “God, Judith, I don’t know. What do people do with their lives when a war ends? We’ll work it out someway, I suppose.”
Suddenly Judith covered her face with her hands and began to cry, all the loneliness that was past and still to come flooding up within her, bursting out of her control. And John took her into his arms again, trying to soothe and comfort her.
“Don’t cry, Judith darling. I’ll come back to you. Someday we’ll have our home and our family. Someday we’ll have each other—”
“Someday, John!” Her arms caught at him desperately, her face was frightened and her eyes reckless. “Someday! But what if someday never comes!”
An hour later he was gone and Judith rode back to the house, happy and at peace, content as never before in her life. For now—no matter what happened, no matter who won or lost the war—they were sure of each other. Sometimes they might have to be apart, but they could never be really separated again. Life seemed simpler to her, and more complete.
