Yes, I had been wrong. And of course, nothing happened, because he had left. I was desperate to find what did not exist, and so I left myself even worse as before. I did not even leave myself, it would have been better if I had forgotten about me entirely, but nothing of the kind has ever happened.
Yet I resigned and felt a need to change my situation, and so I decided to move on and let Mr Hope know how glorious my story was.
But I could not let myself be opened up, just like it would have been his right to know what I was made of, therefore I tried getting closer and closer to him. What I truly wanted - and I obviously knew it - was to increase my chances of being liked by him, so that I could feel better about myself.
Trying not to seem hilarious or strange, I started looking for any chance that would bring me in his attention, and just so you know, there was plenty of them.
"Mr Hope, I am sure you have read this book - Mr Hope, have you seen my drawings? - Sir, I have wanted to ask you if this side of the garden could be a great background for a portrait I am having done this week."
My head was full of Mr Hope and my terribly annoying questions, but he seemed to like it; for, from a time, he stopped looking away when I approached, and he even continued the conversation when there was no subject to be discussed. He once remarked, "Miss Gloom, how many things we have in common!", and I was so close to tell him, "Yes, right, but you don't know that I have changed my tastes so that we could have that much in common," but I hushed my voice; he would not know this until it was urgent for me to tell him.
This went on and on, and I was feeling pretty comfortable with it; I even thought he liked me so much that there was no need to continue my plan. He kept saying that he would remain in the county and would not move in the near future, and I was very happy with it, for his leaving would have been too much for my nerves.
My absurd yet mild folly did not let me see that Miss Modesty did not care a bit about me being so close to Mr Hope; I just continued and thought, 'oh, how strong I am for doing this!'. Yeah, right.
One day, Miss Fellow came to tea. As I was sitting down, she began speaking so fast, that I thought she would give her last breath after finishing her speech. But the reason for her rapid talking was this: that news was too important to be talked of normally.
"Have you heard that Miss Modesty is moving out? Why would she do that, I wonder! It has been always so pleasant a community, and there is not a solid reason for her leaving. Can you imagine, she has led us to believe that nothing would keep her away and now she is decided to leave?! Miss Gloom, are you feeling well?"
For a reason known only by me, I turned pale when hearing the news. While Miss Fellow was busy assuring herself that I was fine, a joyful thought came to me; the thought that Miss Modesty would represent no threat any further. What I did not know then, well, it is to see.
The morning after this conversation I was strolling around, smiling and smiling and, again, smiling at my prospects - my imaginary prospects, that is! And I do not know to this day how I came to walk by Miss Modesty's house, but I believe that a secret feeling of sorrow and regret brought me there, lest I now deny my being so insensitive. I was looking at her windows, and imagined how she was packing up her things, leaving us - yes, us, what a great word! - carry on with our plans, and, oh, how many plans I had waiting for fulfilment at that point! And just when I was deciding myself to go on, I saw that none other than Mr Hope quit the place. My smile got even bigger, my eyes even merrier, and he obviously observed it, but he seemed rather confused than happy to see me. I had imagined that I would be the first to talk, yet he started before I knew it.
"Miss Gloom, it is so unusual to find you here, were you coming in? I am sure that you and Miss Modesty have a large amount of subjects to discuss, and perhaps she shall be the only one to keep you company, in a month or two. Perhaps three, if my journey is to be delayed."
There is no reason to explain how strange his words seemed. If you have ever gone through this situation, you will surely know their impact upon me.
"Sir, are you leaving? You are leaving as well? ...Dear, this is so overwhelming, I... "
I should say that at that moment I collapsed on a bench nearby, trying to catch my breath, for it had become harder and harder to say anything, and while I was sitting down, I could not but watch him as he looked at me even more puzzled than before; "come here, already, I am done waiting for you!", I was shouting inside. If there had been indeed an explanation, giving it would have been far too hard, and in my state, the only wish I had was that he would tell me I was just dreaming, but his look gave me the true meaning of his words.
And after my conduct came back, I raised my head, softly, calmly whispering, "Very well, sir, you may go."
"But do I need your approval, your consent? Didn't you know that I was leaving? You are so childish, Miss Gloom, at times!"
"...Childish? Am I behaving childishly to you, sir?! Do you not think that my behaviour, my manners, my opinions and my hopes, my dear, broken, shattered hopes are rather those of a fool?" This was all that I could tell him at that moment. But I was still going on in my mind, "Is it despise in your eyes, that you let me see now? Is it compassion? I do not know, tell me, do you see me as a child? Am I that inferior to you? Mr Hope, your name does you justice, by every possible mean, for every hope has been proven false, every hopeful reason is hopeless, every feeling is unnatural, how can that be childish? It is sad, I am afraid! Sad!"
"It is sad, sir, that you think of me so," I finally added.
"I am sorry, Miss, yet I cannot lengthen my stay. Pray excuse me, and good-bye."
He turned away, as usual. But I did not cry as I was sure that Miss Modesty had; I went straight home, took the pen and wrote the explanations - I was convinced - that would reach him. I was sure, then, that he would read them and think of me before going to sleep, and even dream of me, though not that kind of dream that I had desperately wished for.
"My explanations are given," I said out loud. "Now, I just need to send them to him, that is all, and then, the secret will no longer be in my possession. He will have to handle it, and I will move on, as he once advised me to."
But I could not hand them to you directly, I was not up to it; no, I was not - though I believe that, if you can spare your great kindness and open the door of your chamber, and then, should you look down, upon the floor, I am sure that you will find a letter that explains, and most accurately it truly does, my reasons, fears, hopes and dreams, and most importantly, my regrets and regards to you, sir.
Yours humbly,
Miss Gloom
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