Night and Day Part 9

'Ah, well,' she said, 'London's a fine place to live in. I believe I could sit and watch people all day long. I like my fellow-creatures ... '

Ralph sighed impatiently.

'Yes, I think so, when you come to know them,' she added, as if his disagreement had been spoken.

'That's just when I don't like them,' he replied. 'Still, I don't see why you shouldn't cherish that illusion, if it pleases you.' He spoke without much vehemence of agreement or disagreement. He seemed chilled.

'Wake up, Ralph! You're half asleep!' Mary cried, turning and pinching his sleeve. 'What have you been doing with yourself? Moping? Working? Despising the world, as usual?'

As he merely shook his head, and filled his pipe, she went on: 'It's a bit of a pose, isn't it?'

'Not more than most things,' he said.

'Well,' Mary remarked, 'I've a great deal to say to you, but I must go on-we have a committee.' She rose, but hesitated, looking down upon him rather gravely. 'You don't look happy, Ralph,' she said. 'Is it anything, or is it nothing?'

He did not immediately answer her, but rose, too, and walked with her towards the gate. As usual, he did not speak to her without considering whether what he was about to say was the sort of thing that he could say to her.

'I've been bothered,' he said at length. 'Partly by work, and partly by family troubles. Charles has been behaving like a fool. He wants to go out to Canada as a farmer-'

'Well, there's something to be said for that,' said Mary; and they pa.s.sed the gate, and walked slowly round the Fields again, discussing difficulties which, as a matter of fact, were more or less chronic in the Denham family, and only now brought forward to appease Mary's sympathy, which, however, soothed Ralph more than he was aware of. She made him at least dwell upon problems which were real in the sense that they were capable of solution; and the true cause of his melancholy, which was not susceptible to such treatment, sank rather more deeply into the shades of his mind.

Mary was attentive; she was helpful. Ralph could not help feeling grateful to her, the more so, perhaps, because he had not told her the truth about his state; and when they reached the gate again he wished to make some affectionate objection to her leaving him. But his affection took the rather uncouth form of expostulating with her about her work.

'What d'you want to sit on a committee for?' he asked. 'It's waste of your time, Mary.'

'I agree with you that a country walk would benefit the world more,' she said. 'Look here,' she added suddenly, 'why don't you come to us at Christmas? It's almost the best time of year.'

'Come to you at Disham?'bi Ralph repeated. Ralph repeated.

'Yes. We won't interfere with you. But you can tell me later,' she said, rather hastily, and then started off in the direction of Russell Square. She had invited him on the impulse of the moment, as a vision of the country came before her; and now she was annoyed with herself for having done so, and then she was annoyed at being annoyed.

'If I can't face a walk in a field alone with Ralph,' she reasoned, 'I'd better buy a cat and live in a lodging at Ealing, like Sally Seal-and he won't come. Or did he mean that he would would come?' come?'

She shook her head. She really did not know what he had meant. She never felt quite certain; but now she was more than usually baffled. Was he concealing something from her? His manner had been odd; his deep absorption had impressed her; there was something in him that she had not fathomed, and the mystery of his nature laid more of a spell upon her than she liked. Moreover, she could not prevent herself from doing now what she had often blamed others of her s.e.x for doing-from endowing her friend with a kind of heavenly fire, and pa.s.sing her life before it for his sanction.

Under this process, the committee rather dwindled in importance; the Suffrage shrank; she vowed she would work harder at the Italian language; she thought she would take up the study of birds. But this programme for a perfect life threatened to become so absurd that she very soon caught herself out in the evil habit, and was rehearsing her speech to the committee by the time the chestnut-coloured bricks of Russell Square came in sight. Indeed, she never noticed them. She ran upstairs as usual, and was completely awakened to reality by the sight of Mrs Seal, on the landing outside the office, inducing a very large dog to drink water out of a tumbler.

'Miss Markham has already arrived,' Mrs Seal remarked, with due solemnity, 'and this is her dog.'

'A very fine dog too,' said Mary, patting him on the head.

'Yes. A magnificent fellow,' Mrs Seal agreed. 'A kind of St Bernard, she tells me-so like Kit to have a St Bernard. And you guard your mistress well, don't you, Sailor? You see that wicked men don't break into her larder when she's out at her her work-helping poor souls who have lost their way ... But we're late-we must begin!' and scattering the rest of the water indiscriminately over the floor, she hurried Mary into the committee-room. work-helping poor souls who have lost their way ... But we're late-we must begin!' and scattering the rest of the water indiscriminately over the floor, she hurried Mary into the committee-room.

CHAPTER XIV.

MR CLACTON WAS IN his glory. The machinery which he had perfected and controlled was now about to turn out its bi-monthlv product, a committee meeting; and his pride in the perfect structure of these a.s.semblies was great. He loved the jargon of committee-rooms; he loved the way in which the door kept opening as the clock struck the hour, in obedience to a few strokes of his pen on a piece of paper; and when it had opened sufficiently often, he loved to issue from his inner chamber with doc.u.ments in his hands, visibly important, with a preoccupied expression on his face that might have suited a Prime Minister advancing to meet his Cabinet. By his orders the table had been decorated beforehand with six sheets of blotting-paper, with six pens, six ink-pots, a tumbler and a jug of water, a bell, and, in deference to the taste of the lady members, a vase of hardy chrysanthemums. He had already surrept.i.tiously straightened the sheets of blotting-paper in relation to the ink-pots, and now stood in front of the fire engaged in conversation with Miss Markham. But his eye was on the door, and when Mary and Mrs Seal entered, he gave a little laugh and observed to the a.s.sembly which was scattered about the room: 'I fancy, ladies and gentlemen, that we are ready to commence.'

So speaking, he took his seat at the head of the table, and arranging one bundle of papers upon his right and another upon his left, called upon Miss Datchet to read the minutes of the previous meeting. Mary obeyed. A keen observer might have wondered why it was necessary for the secretary to knit her brows so closely over the tolerably matter-of-fact statement before her. Could there be any doubt in her mind that it had been resolved to circularize the provinces with Leaflet No. 3, or to issue a statistical diagram showing the proportion of married women to spinsters in New Zealand; or that the net profits of Mrs Hipsley's Bazaar had reached a total of five pounds eight s.h.i.+llings and twopence halfpenny?

Could any doubt as to the perfect sense and propriety of these statements be disturbing her? No one could have guessed, from the look of her, that she was disturbed at all. A pleasanter and saner woman than Mary Datchet was never seen within a committee-room. She seemed a compound of the autumn leaves and the winter suns.h.i.+ne; less poetically speaking, she showed both gentleness and strength, an indefinable promise of soft maternity blending with her evident fitness for honest labour. Nevertheless, she had great difficulty in reducing her mind to obedience; and her reading lacked conviction, as if, as was indeed the case, she had lost the power of visualizing what she read. And directly the list was completed, her mind floated to Lincoln's Inn Fields and the fluttering wings of innumerable sparrows. Was Ralph still enticing the bald-headed c.o.c.k-sparrow to sit upon his hand? Had he succeeded? Would he ever succeed? She had meant to ask him why it is that the sparrows in Lincoln's Inn Fields are tamer than the sparrows in Hyde Park-perhaps it is that the pa.s.sers-by are rarer, and they come to recognize their benefactors. For the first half-hour of the committee meeting, Mary had thus to do battle with the sceptical presence of Ralph Denham, who threatened to have it all his own way. Mary tried half a dozen methods of ousting him. She raised her voice, she articulated distinctly, she looked firmly at Mr Clacton's bald head, she began to write a note. To her annoyance, her pencil drew a little round figure on the blotting-paper, which, she could not deny, was really a bald-headed c.o.c.k-sparrow. She looked again at Mr Clacton; yes, he was bald, and so are c.o.c.k-sparrows. Never was a secretary tormented by so many unsuitable suggestions, and they all came, alas! with something ludicrously grotesque about them, which might, at any moment, provoke her to such flippancy as would shock her colleagues for ever. The thought of what she might say made her bite her lips, as if her lips would protect her.

But all these suggestions were but flotsam and jetsam cast to the surface by a more profound disturbance, which, as she could not consider it at present, manifested its existence by these grotesque nods and beckonings. Consider it, she must, when the committee was over. Meanwhile, she was behaving scandalously; she was looking out of the window, and thinking of the colour of the sky, and of the decorations on the Imperial Hotel,bj when she ought to have been shepherding her colleagues, and pinning them down to the matter in hand. She could not bring herself to attach more weight to one project than to another. Ralph had said-she could not stop to consider what he had said, but he had somehow divested the proceedings of all reality. And then, without conscious effort, by some trick of the brain, she found herself becoming interested in some scheme for organizing a newspaper campaign. Certain articles were to be written; certain editors approached. What line was it advisable to take? She found herself strongly disapproving of what Mr Clacton was saying. She committed herself to the opinion that now was the time to strike hard. Directly she had said this, she felt that she had turned upon Ralph's ghost; and she became more and more in earnest, and anxious to bring the others round to her point of view. Once more, she knew exactly and indisputably what is right and what is wrong. As if emerging from a mist, the old foes of the public good loomed ahead of her-capitalists, newspaper proprietors, anti-suffragists, and, in some ways most pernicious of all, the ma.s.ses who take no interest one way or another-among whom, for the time being, she certainly discerned the features of Ralph Denham. Indeed, when Miss Markham asked her to suggest the names of a few friends of hers, she expressed herself with unusual bitterness: when she ought to have been shepherding her colleagues, and pinning them down to the matter in hand. She could not bring herself to attach more weight to one project than to another. Ralph had said-she could not stop to consider what he had said, but he had somehow divested the proceedings of all reality. And then, without conscious effort, by some trick of the brain, she found herself becoming interested in some scheme for organizing a newspaper campaign. Certain articles were to be written; certain editors approached. What line was it advisable to take? She found herself strongly disapproving of what Mr Clacton was saying. She committed herself to the opinion that now was the time to strike hard. Directly she had said this, she felt that she had turned upon Ralph's ghost; and she became more and more in earnest, and anxious to bring the others round to her point of view. Once more, she knew exactly and indisputably what is right and what is wrong. As if emerging from a mist, the old foes of the public good loomed ahead of her-capitalists, newspaper proprietors, anti-suffragists, and, in some ways most pernicious of all, the ma.s.ses who take no interest one way or another-among whom, for the time being, she certainly discerned the features of Ralph Denham. Indeed, when Miss Markham asked her to suggest the names of a few friends of hers, she expressed herself with unusual bitterness: 'My friends think all this kind of thing useless.' She felt that she was really saying that to Ralph himself.

'Oh, they're that sort, are they?' said Miss Markham, with a little laugh; and with renewed vigour their legions charged the foe.

Mary's spirits had been low when she entered the committee-room; but now they were considerably improved. She knew the ways of this world; it was a shapely, orderly place; she felt convinced of its right and its wrong; and the feeling that she was fit to deal a heavy blow against her enemies warmed her heart and kindled her eye. In one of those flights of fancy, not characteristic of her but tiresomely frequent this afternoon, she envisaged herself battered with rotten eggs upon a platform, from which Ralph vainly begged her to descend. But- 'What do I matter compared with the cause?' she said, and so on. Much to her credit, however teased by foolish fancies, she kept the surface of her brain moderate and vigilant, and subdued Mrs Seal very tactfully more than once when she demanded, Action!-everywhere! -at once!' as became her father's daughter.

The other members of the committee, who were all rather elderly people, were a good deal impressed by Mary, and inclined to side with her and against each other, partly, perhaps, because of her youth. The feeling that she controlled them all filled Mary with a sense of power; and she felt that no work can equal in importance, or be so exciting as, the work of making other people do what you want them to do. Indeed, when she had won her point she felt a slight degree of contempt for the people who had yielded to her.

The committee now rose, gathered together their papers, shook them straight, placed them in their attache-cases, snapped the locks firmly together, and hurried away, having, for the most part, to catch trains, in order to keep other appointments with other committees, for they were all busy people. Mary, Mrs Seal, and Mr Clacton were left alone; the room was hot and untidy, the pieces of pink blotting-paper were lying at different angles upon the table, and the tumbler was half full of water, which some one had poured out and forgotten to drink.

Mrs Seal began preparing the tea, while Mr Clacton retired to his room to file the fresh acc.u.mulation of doc.u.ments. Mary was too much excited even to help Mrs Seal with the cups and saucers. She flung up the window and stood by it, looking out. The street lamps were already lit; and through the mist in the square one could see little figures hurrying across the road and along the pavement, on the farther side. In her absurd mood of l.u.s.tful arrogance, Mary looked at the little figures and thought, 'If I liked I could make you go in there or stop short; I could make you walk in single file or in double file; I could do what I liked with you.' Then Mrs Seal came and stood by her.

'Oughtn't you to put something round your shoulders, Sally?' Mary asked, in rather a condescending tone of voice, feeling a sort of pity for the enthusiastic ineffective little woman. But Mrs Seal paid no attention to the suggestion.

'Well, did you enjoy yourself?' Mary asked, with a little laugh.

Mrs Seal drew a deep breath, restrained herself, and then burst out, looking out, too, upon Russell Square and Southampton Row, and at the pa.s.sers-by, 'Ah, if only one could get every one of those people into this room, and make them understand for five minutes! But they must must see the truth some day ... If only one could see the truth some day ... If only one could make make them see it ... ' them see it ... '

Mary knew herself to be very much wiser than Mrs Seal, and when Mrs Seal said anything, even if it was what Mary herself was feeling, she automatically thought of all that there was to be said against it. On this occasion her arrogant feeling that she could direct everybody, dwindled away.

'Let's have our tea,' she said, turning back from the window and pulling down the blind. 'It was a good meeting-didn't you think so, Sally?' she let fall, casually, as she sat down at the table. Surely Mrs Seal must realize that Mary had been extraordinarily efficient?

'But we go at such a snail's pace,' said Sally, shaking her head impatiently.

At this Mary burst out laughing, and all her arrogance was dissipated.

'You can afford to laugh,' said Sally, with another shake of her head, 'but I can't. I'm fifty-five, and I dare say I shall be in my grave by the time we get it-if we ever do.'

'Oh no, you won't be in your grave,' said Mary, kindly.

'It'll be such a great day,' said Mrs Seal, with a toss of her locks. 'A great day, not only for us, but for civilization. That's what I feel, you know, about these meetings. Each one of them is a step onwards in the great march-humanity, you know. We do want the people after us to have a better time of it-and so many don't see it. I wonder how it is that they don't see it?'

She was carrying plates and cups from the cupboard as she spoke, so that her sentences were more than usually broken apart. Mary could not help looking at the odd little priestess of humanity with something like admiration. While she had been thinking about herself, Mrs Seal had thought of nothing but her vision.

'You mustn't wear yourself out, Sally, if you want to see the great day,' she said, rising and trying to take a plate of biscuits from Mrs Seal's hands.

'My dear child, what else is my old body good for?' she exclaimed, clinging more tightly than before to her plate of biscuits. 'Shouldn't I be proud to give everything I have to the cause?-for I'm not an intelligence like you. There were domestic circ.u.mstances-I'd like to tell you one of these days-so I say foolish things. I lose my head, you know. You don't. Mr Clacton doesn't. It's a great mistake, to lose one's head. But my heart's in the right place. And I'm so glad Kit has a big dog, for I didn't think her looking well.'

They had their tea, and went over many of the points that had been raised in the committee, rather more intimately than had been possible then; and they all felt an agreeable sense of being in some way behind the scenes; of having their hands upon strings which, when pulled, would completely change the pageant exhibited daily to those who read the newspapers. Although their views were very different, this sense united them and made them almost cordial in their manners to each other.

Mary, however, left the tea-party rather early, desiring both to be alone, and then to hear some music at the Queen's Hall.bk She fully intended to use her loneliness to think out her position with regard to Ralph; but although she walked back to the Strand with this end in view, she found her mind uncomfortably full of different trains of thought. She started one and then another. They seemed even to take their colour from the street she happened to be in. Thus the vision of humanity appeared to be in some way connected with Bloomsbury, and faded distinctly by the time she crossed the main road; then a belated organ-grinder in Holborn set her thoughts dancing incongruously; and by the time she was crossing the great misty square of Lincoln's Inn Fields, she was cold and depressed again, and horribly clear-sighted. The dark removed the stimulus of human companions.h.i.+p, and a tear actually slid down her cheek, accompanying a sudden conviction within her that she loved Ralph, and that he didn't love her. All dark and empty now was the path where they had walked that morning, and the sparrows silent in the bare trees. But the lights in her own building soon cheered her; all these different states of mind were submerged in the deep flood of desires, thoughts, perceptions, antagonisms, which washed perpetually at the base of her being, to rise into prominence in turn when the conditions of the upper world were favourable. She put off the hour of clear thought until Christmas, saying to herself, as she lit her fire, that it is impossible to think anything out in London; and, no doubt, Ralph wouldn't come at Christmas, and she would take long walks into the heart of the country, and decide this question and all the others that puzzled her. Meanwhile, she thought, drawing her feet up on to the fender, life was full of complexity; life was a thing one must love to the last fibre of it. She fully intended to use her loneliness to think out her position with regard to Ralph; but although she walked back to the Strand with this end in view, she found her mind uncomfortably full of different trains of thought. She started one and then another. They seemed even to take their colour from the street she happened to be in. Thus the vision of humanity appeared to be in some way connected with Bloomsbury, and faded distinctly by the time she crossed the main road; then a belated organ-grinder in Holborn set her thoughts dancing incongruously; and by the time she was crossing the great misty square of Lincoln's Inn Fields, she was cold and depressed again, and horribly clear-sighted. The dark removed the stimulus of human companions.h.i.+p, and a tear actually slid down her cheek, accompanying a sudden conviction within her that she loved Ralph, and that he didn't love her. All dark and empty now was the path where they had walked that morning, and the sparrows silent in the bare trees. But the lights in her own building soon cheered her; all these different states of mind were submerged in the deep flood of desires, thoughts, perceptions, antagonisms, which washed perpetually at the base of her being, to rise into prominence in turn when the conditions of the upper world were favourable. She put off the hour of clear thought until Christmas, saying to herself, as she lit her fire, that it is impossible to think anything out in London; and, no doubt, Ralph wouldn't come at Christmas, and she would take long walks into the heart of the country, and decide this question and all the others that puzzled her. Meanwhile, she thought, drawing her feet up on to the fender, life was full of complexity; life was a thing one must love to the last fibre of it.

She had sat there for five minutes or so, and her thoughts had had time to grow dim, when there came a ring at her bell. Her eye brightened; she felt immediately convinced that Ralph had come to visit her. Accordingly, she waited a moment before opening the door; she wanted to feel her hands secure upon the reins of all the troublesome emotions which the sight of Ralph would certainly arouse. She composed herself unnecessarily, however, for she had to admit, not Ralph, but Katharine and William Rodney. Her first impression was that they were both extremely well dressed. She felt herself shabby and slovenly beside them, and did not know how she should entertain them, nor could she guess why they had come. She had heard nothing of their engagement. But after the first disappointment, she was pleased, for she felt instantly that Katharine was a personality, and, moreover, she need not now exercise her self-control.

'We were pa.s.sing and saw a light in your window, so we came up,' Katharine explained, standing and looking very tall and distinguished and rather absent-minded.

'We have been to see some pictures,' said William. 'Oh dear,' he exclaimed, looking about him, 'this room reminds me of one of the worst hours in my existence-when I read a paper, and you all sat round and jeered at me. Katharine was the worst. I could feel her gloating over every mistake I made. Miss Datchet was kind. Miss Datchet just made it possible for me to get through, I remember.'

Sitting down, he drew off his light yellow gloves, and began slapping his knees with them. His vitality was pleasant, Mary thought, although he made her laugh. The very look of him was inclined to make her laugh. His rather prominent eyes pa.s.sed from one young woman to the other, and his lips perpetually formed words which remained unspoken.

'We have been seeing old masters at the Grafton Gallery,'bl said Katharine, apparently paying no attention to William, and accepting a cigarette which Mary offered her. She leant back in her chair, and the smoke which hung about her face seemed to withdraw her still further from the others. said Katharine, apparently paying no attention to William, and accepting a cigarette which Mary offered her. She leant back in her chair, and the smoke which hung about her face seemed to withdraw her still further from the others.

'Would you believe it, Miss Datchet,' William continued, 'Katharine doesn't like t.i.tian.bm She doesn't like apricots, she doesn't like peaches, she doesn't like green peas. She likes the Elgin marbles, and grey days without any sun. She's a typical example of the cold northern nature. I come from Devons.h.i.+re-' She doesn't like apricots, she doesn't like peaches, she doesn't like green peas. She likes the Elgin marbles, and grey days without any sun. She's a typical example of the cold northern nature. I come from Devons.h.i.+re-'bn Had they been quarrelling, Mary wondered, and had they, for that reason, sought refuge in her room, or were they engaged, or had Katharine just refused him? She was completely baffled.

Katharine now reappeared from her veil of smoke, knocked the ash from her cigarette into the fireplace, and looked, with an odd expression of solicitude, at the irritable man.

'Perhaps, Mary,' she said tentatively, 'you wouldn't mind giving us some tea? We did try to get some, but the shop was so crowded, and in the next one there was a band playing; and most of the pictures, at any rate, were very dull, whatever you may say, William.' She spoke with a kind of guarded gentleness.

Mary, accordingly, retired to make preparations in the pantry.

'What in the world are they after?' she asked of her own reflection in the little looking-gla.s.s which hung there. She was not left to doubt much longer, for, on coming back into the sitting-room with the tea-things, Katharine informed her, apparently having been instructed so to do by William, of their engagement.

'William,' she said, 'thinks that perhaps you don't know. We are going to be married.'

Mary found herself shaking William's hand, and addressing her congratulations to him, as if Katharine were inaccessible; she had, indeed, taken hold of the tea-kettle.

'Let me see,' Katharine said, 'one puts hot water into the cups first, doesn't one? You have some dodge of your own, haven't you, William, about making tea?'

Mary was half inclined to suspect that this was said in order to conceal nervousness, but if so, the concealment was unusually perfect. Talk of marriage was dismissed. Katharine might have been seated in her own drawing-room, controlling a situation which presented no sort of difficulty to her trained mind. Rather to her surprise, Mary found herself making conversation with William about old Italian pictures, while Katharine poured out tea, cut cake, kept William's plate supplied, without joining more than was necessary in the conversation. She seemed to have taken possession of Mary's room, and to handle the cups as if they belonged to her. But it was done so naturally that it bred no resentment in Mary; on the contrary, she found herself putting her hand on Katharine's knee, affectionately, for an instant. Was there something maternal in this a.s.sumption of control? And thinking of Katharine as one who would soon be married, these maternal airs filled Mary's mind with a new tenderness, and even with awe. Katharine seemed very much older and more experienced than she was.

Meanwhile, Rodney talked. If his appearance was superficially against him, it had the advantage of making his solid merits something of a surprise. He had kept notebooks; he knew a great deal about pictures. He could compare different examples in different galleries, and his authoritative answers to intelligent questions gained not a little, Mary felt, from the smart taps which he dealt, as he delivered them, upon the lumps of coal. She was impressed.

'Your tea, William,' said Katharine gently.

He paused, gulped it down, obediently, and continued.

And then it struck Mary that Katharine, in the shade of her broad-brimmed hat, and in the midst of the smoke, and in the obscurity of her character, was, perhaps, smiling to herself, not altogether in the maternal spirit. What she said was very simple, but her words, even 'Your tea, William,' were set down as gently and cautiously and exactly as the feet of a Persian cat stepping among China ornaments. For the second time that day Mary felt herself baffled by something inscrutable in the character of a person to whom she felt herself much attracted. She thought that if she were engaged to Katharine, she, too, would find herself very soon using those fretful questions with which William evidently teased his bride. And yet Katharine's voice was humble.

'I wonder how you find the time to know all about pictures as well as books?' she asked.

'How do I find the time?' William answered, delighted, Mary guessed, at this little compliment. 'Why, I always travel with a notebook. And I ask my way to the picture gallery the very first thing in the morning. And then I meet men, and talk to them. There's a man in my office who knows all about the Flemish school.bo I was telling Miss Datchet about the Flemish school. I picked up a lot of it from him-it's a way men have-Gibbons, his name is. You must meet him. We'll ask him to lunch. And this not caring about art,' he explained, turning to Mary, 'it's one of Katharine's poses, Miss Datchet. Did you know she posed? She pretends that she's never read Shakespeare. And why should she read Shakespeare, since she is Shakespeare-Rosalind, I was telling Miss Datchet about the Flemish school. I picked up a lot of it from him-it's a way men have-Gibbons, his name is. You must meet him. We'll ask him to lunch. And this not caring about art,' he explained, turning to Mary, 'it's one of Katharine's poses, Miss Datchet. Did you know she posed? She pretends that she's never read Shakespeare. And why should she read Shakespeare, since she is Shakespeare-Rosalind,bp you know,' and he gave his queer little chuckle. Somehow this compliment appeared very old-fas.h.i.+oned and almost in bad taste. Mary actually felt herself blush, as if he had said 'the s.e.x' or 'the ladies'. Constrained, perhaps, by nervousness, Rodney continued in the same vein. you know,' and he gave his queer little chuckle. Somehow this compliment appeared very old-fas.h.i.+oned and almost in bad taste. Mary actually felt herself blush, as if he had said 'the s.e.x' or 'the ladies'. Constrained, perhaps, by nervousness, Rodney continued in the same vein.

'She knows enough-enough for all decent purposes. What do you women want with learning, when you have so much else-everything, I should say-everything. Leave us something, eh, Katharine?'

'Leave you something?' said Katharine, apparently waking from a brown study. 'I was thinking we must be going-'

'Is it to-night that Lady Ferrilby dines with us? No, we mustn't be late,' said Rodney, rising. 'D'you know the Ferrilbys, Miss Datchet? They own Trantem Abbey,' he added, for her information, as she looked doubtful. And if Katharine makes herself very charming to-night, perhaps'll lend it to us for the honeymoon.'

'I agree that may be a reason. Otherwise she's a dull woman,' said Katharine. 'At least,' she added, as if to qualify her abruptness, 'I find it difficult to talk to her.'

'Because you expect every one else to take all the trouble. I've seen her sit silent a whole evening,' he said, turning to Mary, as he had frequently done already. 'Don't you find that, too? Sometimes when we're alone, I've counted the time on my watch'-here he took out a large gold watch, and tapped the gla.s.s-'the time between one remark and the next. And once I counted ten minutes and twenty seconds, and then, if you'll believe me, she only said "Um!"'

'I'm sure I'm sorry,' Katharine apologized. 'I know it's a bad habit, but then, you see, at home-'

The rest of her excuse was cut short, so far as Mary was concerned, by the closing of the door. She fancied she could hear William finding fresh fault on the stairs. A moment later, the door-bell rang again, and Katharine reappeared, having left her purse on a chair. She soon found it, and said, pausing for a moment at the door, and speaking differently as they were alone: 'I think being engaged is very bad for the character.' She shook her purse in her hand until the coins jingled, as if she alluded merely to this example of her forgetfulness. But the remark puzzled Mary; it seemed to refer to something else; and her manner had changed so strangely, now that William was out of hearing, that she could not help looking at her for an explanation. She looked almost stern, so that Mary, trying to smile at her, only succeeded in producing a silent stare of interrogation.

As the door shut for the second time, she sank on to the floor in front of the fire, trying, now that their bodies were not there to distract her, to piece together her impressions of them as a whole. And, though priding herself, with all other men and women, upon an infallible eye for character, she could not feel at all certain that she knew what motives inspired Katharine Hilbery in life. There was something that carried her on smoothly, out of reach-something, yes, but what?-something that reminded Mary of Ralph. Oddly enough, he gave her the same feeling, too, and with him, too, she felt baffled. Oddly enough, for no two people, she hastily concluded, were more unlike. And yet both had this hidden impulse, this incalculable force-this thing they cared for and didn't talk about-oh, what was it?

CHAPTER XV.

THE VILLAGE OF DISHAM lies somewhere on the rolling piece of cultivated ground in the neighbourhood of Lincoln, not so far inland but that a sound, bringing rumours of the sea, can be heard on summer nights or when the winter storms fling the waves upon the long beach. So large is the church, and in particular the church tower, in comparison with the little street of cottages which compose the village, that the traveller is apt to cast his mind back to the Middle Ages, as the only time when so much piety could have been kept alive. So great a trust in the Church can surely not belong to our day, and he goes on to conjecture that every one of the villagers has reached the extreme limit of human life. Such are the reflections of the superficial stranger, and his sight of the population, as it is represented by two or three men hoeing in a turnip-field, a small child carrying a jug, and a young woman shaking a piece of carpet outside her cottage door, will not lead him to see anything very much out of keeping with the Middle Ages in the village of Disham as it is to-day These people, though they seem young enough, look so angular and so crude that they remind him of the little pictures painted by monks in the capital letters of their ma.n.u.scripts. He only half understands what they say, and speaks very loud and clear, as though, indeed, his voice had to carry through a hundred years or more before it reached them. He would have a far better chance of understanding some dweller in Paris or Rome, Berlin or Madrid, than these countrymen of his who have lived for the last two thousand years not two hundred miles from the City of London.

The Rectory,bq stands about half a mile beyond the village. It is a large house, and has been growing steadily for some centuries round the great kitchen, with its narrow red tiles, as the Rector would point out to his guests on the first night of their arrival, taking his bra.s.s candlestick, and bidding them mind the steps up and the steps down, and notice the immense thickness of the walls, the old beams across the ceiling, the staircases as steep as ladders, and the attics, with their deep, tent-like roofs, in which swallows bred, and once a white owl. But nothing very interesting or very beautiful had resulted from the different additions made by the different rectors. stands about half a mile beyond the village. It is a large house, and has been growing steadily for some centuries round the great kitchen, with its narrow red tiles, as the Rector would point out to his guests on the first night of their arrival, taking his bra.s.s candlestick, and bidding them mind the steps up and the steps down, and notice the immense thickness of the walls, the old beams across the ceiling, the staircases as steep as ladders, and the attics, with their deep, tent-like roofs, in which swallows bred, and once a white owl. But nothing very interesting or very beautiful had resulted from the different additions made by the different rectors.

The house, however, was surrounded by a garden, in which the Rector took considerable pride. The lawn, which fronted the drawing-room windows, was a rich and uniform green, unspotted by a single daisy, and on the other side of it two straight paths led past beds of tall, standing flowers to a charming gra.s.sy walk, where the Rev. Wyndham Datchet would pace up and down at the same hour every morning, with a sundial to measure the time for him. As often as not, he carried a book in his hand, into which he would glance, then shut it up, and repeat the rest of the ode from memory. He had most of Horacebr by heart, and had got into the habit of connecting this particular walk with certain odes which he repeated duly, at the same time noting the condition of his flowers, and stooping now and again to pick any that were withered or overblown. On wet days, such was the power of habit over him, he rose from his chair at the same hour, and paced his study for the same length of time, pausing now and then to straighten some book in the bookcase, or alter the position of the two bra.s.s crucifixes standing upon cairns by heart, and had got into the habit of connecting this particular walk with certain odes which he repeated duly, at the same time noting the condition of his flowers, and stooping now and again to pick any that were withered or overblown. On wet days, such was the power of habit over him, he rose from his chair at the same hour, and paced his study for the same length of time, pausing now and then to straighten some book in the bookcase, or alter the position of the two bra.s.s crucifixes standing upon cairnsbs of serpentine stone upon the mantelpiece. His children had a great respect for him, credited him with far more learning than he actually possessed, and saw that his habits were not interfered with, if possible. Like most people who do things methodically, the Rector himself had more strength of purpose and power of self-sacrifice than of intellect or of originality. On cold and windy nights he rode off to visit sick people, who might need him, without a murmur; and by virtue of doing dull duties punctually, he was much employed upon committees and local Boards and Councils; and at this period of his life (he was sixty-eight) he was beginning to be commiserated by tender old ladies for the extreme leanness of his person, which, they said, was worn out upon the roads when it should have been resting before a comfortable fire. His elder daughter, Elizabeth, lived with him and managed the house, and already much resembled him in dry sincerity and methodical habit of mind; of the two sons one, Richard, was an estate agent, the other, Christopher, was reading for the Bar. At Christmas, naturally, they met together; and for a month past the arrangement of the Christmas week had been much in the mind of mistress and maid, who prided themselves every year more confidently upon the excellence of their equipment. The late Mrs Datchet had left an excellent cupboard of linen, to which Elizabeth had succeeded at the age of nineteen, when her mother died, and the charge of the family rested upon the shoulders of the eldest daughter. She kept a fine flock of yellow chickens, sketched a little, certain rose-trees in the garden were committed specially to her care; and what with the care of the house, the care of the chickens, and the care of the poor, she scarcely knew what it was to have an idle minute. An extreme rect.i.tude of mind, rather than any gift, gave her weight in the family. When Mary wrote to say that she had asked Ralph Denham to stay with them, she added, out of deference to Elizabeth's character, that he was very nice, though rather queer, and had been overworking himself in London. No doubt Elizabeth would conclude that Ralph was in love with her, but there could be no doubt either that not a word of this would be spoken by either of them, unless, indeed, some catastrophe made mention of it unavoidable. of serpentine stone upon the mantelpiece. His children had a great respect for him, credited him with far more learning than he actually possessed, and saw that his habits were not interfered with, if possible. Like most people who do things methodically, the Rector himself had more strength of purpose and power of self-sacrifice than of intellect or of originality. On cold and windy nights he rode off to visit sick people, who might need him, without a murmur; and by virtue of doing dull duties punctually, he was much employed upon committees and local Boards and Councils; and at this period of his life (he was sixty-eight) he was beginning to be commiserated by tender old ladies for the extreme leanness of his person, which, they said, was worn out upon the roads when it should have been resting before a comfortable fire. His elder daughter, Elizabeth, lived with him and managed the house, and already much resembled him in dry sincerity and methodical habit of mind; of the two sons one, Richard, was an estate agent, the other, Christopher, was reading for the Bar. At Christmas, naturally, they met together; and for a month past the arrangement of the Christmas week had been much in the mind of mistress and maid, who prided themselves every year more confidently upon the excellence of their equipment. The late Mrs Datchet had left an excellent cupboard of linen, to which Elizabeth had succeeded at the age of nineteen, when her mother died, and the charge of the family rested upon the shoulders of the eldest daughter. She kept a fine flock of yellow chickens, sketched a little, certain rose-trees in the garden were committed specially to her care; and what with the care of the house, the care of the chickens, and the care of the poor, she scarcely knew what it was to have an idle minute. An extreme rect.i.tude of mind, rather than any gift, gave her weight in the family. When Mary wrote to say that she had asked Ralph Denham to stay with them, she added, out of deference to Elizabeth's character, that he was very nice, though rather queer, and had been overworking himself in London. No doubt Elizabeth would conclude that Ralph was in love with her, but there could be no doubt either that not a word of this would be spoken by either of them, unless, indeed, some catastrophe made mention of it unavoidable.

Mary went down to Disham without knowing whether Ralph intended to come; but two or three days before Christmas she received a telegram from Ralph, asking her to take a room for him in the village. This was followed by a letter explaining that he hoped he might have his meals with them; but quiet, essential for his work, made it necessary to sleep out.

Mary was walking in the garden with Elizabeth, and inspecting the roses, when the letter arrived.

'But that's absurd,' said Elizabeth decidedly, when the plan was explained to her. 'There are five spare rooms, even when the boys are here. Besides, he wouldn't get a room in the village. And he ought-n' t to work if he's overworked.'

'But perhaps he doesn't want to see so much of us,' Mary thought to herself, although outwardly she a.s.sented, and felt grateful to Elizabeth for supporting her in what was, of course, her desire. They were cutting roses at the time, and laying them, head by head, in a shallow basket.

'If Ralph were here, he'd find this very dull,' Mary thought, with a little s.h.i.+ver of irritation, which led her to place her rose the wrong way in the basket. Meanwhile, they had come to the end of the path, and while Elizabeth straightened some flowers, and made them stand upright within their fence of string, Mary looked at her father, who was pacing up and down, with his hand behind his back and his head bowed in meditation. Obeying an impulse which sprang from some desire to interrupt this methodical marching, Mary stepped on to the gra.s.s walk and put her hand on his arm.

'A flower for your b.u.t.tonhole, father,' she said, presenting a rose.

'Eh, dear?' said Mr Datchet, taking the flower, and holding it at an angle which suited his bad eyesight, without pausing in his walk.

'Where does this fellow come from? One of Elizabeth's s roses-I hope you asked her leave. Elizabeth doesn't like having her roses picked without her leave, and quite right, too.'

He had a habit, Mary remarked, and she had never noticed it so clearly before, of letting his sentences tail away into a continuous murmur, whereupon he pa.s.sed into a state of abstraction, presumed by his children to indicate some train of thought too profound for utterance.

'What?' said Mary, interrupting, for the first time in her life, perhaps, when the murmur ceased. He made no reply. She knew very well that he wished to be left alone, but she stuck to his side much as she might have stuck to some sleep-walker, whom she thought it right gradually to awaken. She could think of nothing to rouse him with except: 'The garden's looking very nice, father.'

'Yes, yes, yes,' said Mr Datchet, running his words together in the same abstracted manner, and sinking his head yet lower upon his breast. And suddenly, as they turned their steps to retrace their way, he jerked out: 'The traffic's very much increased, you know. More rolling-stock needed already. Forty trucks went down yesterday by the 12.15-counted them myself. They've taken off the 9.3, and given us an 8.30 instead-suits the business men, you know. You came by the old 3.10 yesterday, I suppose?'

She said 'Yes,' as he seemed to wish for a reply, and then he looked at his watch, and made off down the path towards the house, holding the rose at the same angle in front of him. Elizabeth had gone round to the side of the house, where the chickens lived, so that Mary found herself alone, holding Ralph's letter in her hand. She was uneasy. She had put off the season for thinking things out very successfully, and now that Ralph was actually coming, the next day, she could only wonder how her family would impress him. She thought it likely that her father would discuss the train service with him; Elizabeth would be bright and sensible, and always leaving the room to give messages to the servants. Her brothers had already said that they would give him a day's shooting. She was content to leave the problem of Ralph's relations to the young men obscure, trusting that they would find some common ground of masculine agreement. But what would he think of her? of her? Would he see that she was different from the rest of the family? She devised a plan for taking him to her sitting-room, and artfully leading the talk towards the English poets, who now occupied prominent places in her little bookcase. Moreover, she might give him to understand, privately, that she, too, thought her family a queer one-queer, yes, but not dull. That was the rock past which she was bent on steering him. And she thought how she would draw his attention to Edward's pa.s.sion for Jorrocks, Would he see that she was different from the rest of the family? She devised a plan for taking him to her sitting-room, and artfully leading the talk towards the English poets, who now occupied prominent places in her little bookcase. Moreover, she might give him to understand, privately, that she, too, thought her family a queer one-queer, yes, but not dull. That was the rock past which she was bent on steering him. And she thought how she would draw his attention to Edward's pa.s.sion for Jorrocks,bt and the enthusiasm which led Christopher to collect moths and b.u.t.terflies, though he was now twenty-two. Perhaps Elizabeth's sketching, if the fruits were invisible, might lend colour to the general effect which she wished to produce of a family, eccentric and limited, perhaps, but not dull. Edward, she perceived, was rolling the lawn, for the sake of exercise; and the sight of him, with pink cheeks, bright little brown eyes, and a general resemblance to a clumsy young cart-horse in its winter coat of dusty brown hair, made Mary violently ashamed of her ambitious scheming. She loved him precisely as he was; she loved them all; and as she walked by his side, up and down, and down and up, her strong moral sense administered a sound drubbing to the vain and romantic element aroused in her by the mere thought of Ralph. She felt quite certain that, for good or for bad, she was very like the rest of her family. and the enthusiasm which led Christopher to collect moths and b.u.t.terflies, though he was now twenty-two. Perhaps Elizabeth's sketching, if the fruits were invisible, might lend colour to the general effect which she wished to produce of a family, eccentric and limited, perhaps, but not dull. Edward, she perceived, was rolling the lawn, for the sake of exercise; and the sight of him, with pink cheeks, bright little brown eyes, and a general resemblance to a clumsy young cart-horse in its winter coat of dusty brown hair, made Mary violently ashamed of her ambitious scheming. She loved him precisely as he was; she loved them all; and as she walked by his side, up and down, and down and up, her strong moral sense administered a sound drubbing to the vain and romantic element aroused in her by the mere thought of Ralph. She felt quite certain that, for good or for bad, she was very like the rest of her family.

Sitting in the corner of a third-cla.s.s railway carriage, on the afternoon of the following day, Ralph made several inquiries of a commercial traveller in the opposite corner. They centred round a village called Lampsher, not three miles, he understood, from Lincoln; was there a big house in Lampsher, he asked, inhabited by a gentleman of the name of Otway?

The traveller knew nothing, but rolled the name of Otway on his tongue, reflectively, and the sound of it gratified Ralph amazingly. It gave him an excuse to take a letter from his pocket in order to verify the address.

'Stogdon House, Lampsher, Lincoln,' he read out.