CHAPTER XXXII
Nobody asked Katharine any questions next day. If cross-examined shemight have said that nobody spoke to her. She worked a little, wrote alittle, ordered the dinner, and sat, for longer than she knew, withher head on her hand piercing whatever lay before her, whether it wasa letter or a dictionary, as if it were a film upon the deep prospectsthat revealed themselves to her kindling and brooding eyes. She roseonce, and going to the bookcase, took out her father's Greek dictionaryand spread the sacred pages of symbols and figures before her. Shesmoothed the sheets with a mixture of affectionate amusement and hope.Would other eyes look on them with her one day? The thought, longintolerable, was now just bearable.
She was quite unaware of the anxiety with which her movements werewatched and her expression scanned. Cassandra was careful not to becaught looking at her, and their conversation was so prosaic that wereit not for certain jolts and jerks between the sentences, as if the mindwere kept with difficulty to the rails, Mrs. Milvain herself could havedetected nothing of a suspicious nature in what she overheard.
William, when he came in late that afternoon and found Cassandra alone,had a very serious piece of news to impart. He had just passed Katharinein the street and she had failed to recognize him.
"That doesn't matter with me, of course, but suppose it happened withsomebody else? What would they think? They would suspect somethingmerely from her expression. She looked--she looked"--he hesitated--"likesome one walking in her sleep."
To Cassandra the significant thing was that Katharine had gone outwithout telling her, and she interpreted this to mean that she had goneout to meet Ralph Denham. But to her surprise William drew no comfortfrom this probability.
"Once throw conventions aside," he began, "once do the things thatpeople don't do--" and the fact that you are going to meet a young manis no longer proof of anything, except, indeed, that people will talk.
Cassandra saw, not without a pang of jealousy, that he was extremelysolicitous that people should not talk about Katharine, as if hisinterest in her were still proprietary rather than friendly. As theywere both ignorant of Ralph's visit the night before they had notthat reason to comfort themselves with the thought that matters werehastening to a crisis. These absences of Katharine's, moreover, leftthem exposed to interruptions which almost destroyed their pleasure inbeing alone together. The rainy evening made it impossible to go out;and, indeed, according to William's code, it was considerably moredamning to be seen out of doors than surprised within. They were so muchat the mercy of bells and doors that they could hardly talk of Macaulaywith any conviction, and William preferred to defer the second act ofhis tragedy until another day.
Under these circumstances Cassandra showed herself at her best. Shesympathized with William's anxieties and did her utmost to share them;but still, to be alone together, to be running risks together, to bepartners in the wonderful conspiracy, was to her so enthralling thatshe was always forgetting discretion, breaking out into exclamations andadmirations which finally made William believe that, although deplorableand upsetting, the situation was not without its sweetness.
When the door did open, he started, but braved the forthcomingrevelation. It was not Mrs. Milvain, however, but Katharine herself whoentered, closely followed by Ralph Denham. With a set expression whichshowed what an effort she was making, Katharine encountered their eyes,and saying, "We're not going to interrupt you," she led Denham behindthe curtain which hung in front of the room with the relics. This refugewas none of her willing, but confronted with wet pavements and only somebelated museum or Tube station for shelter, she was forced, for Ralph'ssake, to face the discomforts of her own house. Under the street lampsshe had thought him looking both tired and strained.
Thus separated, the two couples remained occupied for some time withtheir own affairs. Only the lowest murmurs penetrated from one sectionof the room to the other. At length the maid came in to bring a messagethat Mr. Hilbery would not be home for dinner. It was true that therewas no need that Katharine should be informed, but William began toinquire Cassandra's opinion in such a way as to show that, with orwithout reason, he wished very much to speak to her.
From motives of her own Cassandra dissuaded him.
"But don't you think it's a little unsociable?" he hazarded. "Why not dosomething amusing?--go to the play, for instance? Why not ask Katharineand Ralph, eh?" The coupling of their names in this manner causedCassandra's heart to leap with pleasure.
"Don't you think they must be--?" she began, but William hastily tookher up.
"Oh, I know nothing about that. I only thought we might amuse ourselves,as your uncle's out."
He proceeded on his embassy with a mixture of excitement andembarrassment which caused him to turn aside with his hand on thecurtain, and to examine intently for several moments the portrait ofa lady, optimistically said by Mrs. Hilbery to be an early work of SirJoshua Reynolds. Then, with some unnecessary fumbling, he drew aside thecurtain, and with his eyes fixed upon the ground, repeated his messageand suggested that they should all spend the evening at the play.Katharine accepted the suggestion with such cordiality that it wasstrange to find her of no clear mind as to the precise spectacle shewished to see. She left the choice entirely to Ralph and William, who,taking counsel fraternally over an evening paper, found themselvesin agreement as to the merits of a music-hall. This being arranged,everything else followed easily and enthusiastically. Cassandra hadnever been to a music-hall. Katharine instructed her in the peculiardelights of an entertainment where Polar bears follow directly uponladies in full evening dress, and the stage is alternately a garden ofmystery, a milliner's band-box, and a fried-fish shop in the Mile EndRoad. Whatever the exact nature of the program that night, it fulfilledthe highest purposes of dramatic art, so far, at least, as four of theaudience were concerned.
No doubt the actors and the authors would have been surprised to learnin what shape their efforts reached those particular eyes and ears; butthey could not have denied that the effect as a whole was tremendous.The hall resounded with brass and strings, alternately of enormous pompand majesty, and then of sweetest lamentation. The reds and creamsof the background, the lyres and harps and urns and skulls, theprotuberances of plaster, the fringes of scarlet plush, the sinkingand blazing of innumerable electric lights, could scarcely have beensurpassed for decorative effect by any craftsman of the ancient ormodern world.
Then there was the audience itself, bare-shouldered, tufted andgarlanded in the stalls, decorous but festal in the balconies, andfrankly fit for daylight and street life in the galleries. But, howeverthey differed when looked at separately, they shared the same huge,lovable nature in the bulk, which murmured and swayed and quivered allthe time the dancing and juggling and love-making went on in front ofit, slowly laughed and reluctantly left off laughing, and applaudedwith a helter-skelter generosity which sometimes became unanimous andoverwhelming. Once William saw Katharine leaning forward and clappingher hands with an abandonment that startled him. Her laugh rang out withthe laughter of the audience.
For a second he was puzzled, as if this laughter disclosed somethingthat he had never suspected in her. But then Cassandra's face caught hiseye, gazing with astonishment at the buffoon, not laughing, too deeplyintent and surprised to laugh at what she saw, and for some moments hewatched her as if she were a child.
The performance came to an end, the illusion dying out first here andthen there, as some rose to put on their coats, others stood upright tosalute "God Save the King," the musicians folded their music and encasedtheir instruments, and the lights sank one by one until the house wasempty, silent, and full of great shadows. Looking back over her shoulderas she followed Ralph through the swing doors, Cassandra marveled to seehow the stage was already entirely without romance. But, she wondered,did they really cover all the seats in brown holland every night?
The success of this entertainment was such that before they separatedanother expedition had been planned for the next
day. The next day wasSaturday; therefore both William and Ralph were free to devote the wholeafternoon to an expedition to Greenwich, which Cassandra had never seen,and Katharine confused with Dulwich. On this occasion Ralph was theirguide. He brought them without accident to Greenwich.
What exigencies of state or fantasies of imagination first gave birth tothe cluster of pleasant places by which London is surrounded is matterof indifference now that they have adapted themselves so admirably tothe needs of people between the ages of twenty and thirty with Saturdayafternoons to spend. Indeed, if ghosts have any interest in theaffections of those who succeed them they must reap their richestharvests when the fine weather comes again and the lovers, thesightseers, and the holiday-makers pour themselves out of trains andomnibuses into their old pleasure-grounds. It is true that they go, forthe most part, unthanked by name, although upon this occasion Williamwas ready to give such discriminating praise as the dead architects andpainters received seldom in the course of the year. They were walking bythe river bank, and Katharine and Ralph, lagging a little behind, caughtfragments of his lecture. Katharine smiled at the sound of his voice;she listened as if she found it a little unfamiliar, intimately thoughshe knew it; she tested it. The note of assurance and happiness wasnew. William was very happy. She learnt every hour what sources ofhis happiness she had neglected. She had never asked him to teachher anything; she had never consented to read Macaulay; she had neverexpressed her belief that his play was second only to the works ofShakespeare. She followed dreamily in their wake, smiling and delightingin the sound which conveyed, she knew, the rapturous and yet not servileassent of Cassandra.
Then she murmured, "How can Cassandra--" but changed her sentence to theopposite of what she meant to say and ended, "how could she herself havebeen so blind?" But it was unnecessary to follow out such riddles whenthe presence of Ralph supplied her with more interesting problems, whichsomehow became involved with the little boat crossing the river, themajestic and careworn City, and the steamers homecoming with theirtreasury, or starting in search of it, so that infinite leisure wouldbe necessary for the proper disentanglement of one from the other. Hestopped, moreover, and began inquiring of an old boatman as to the tidesand the ships. In thus talking he seemed different, and even lookeddifferent, she thought, against the river, with the steeples and towersfor background. His strangeness, his romance, his power to leave herside and take part in the affairs of men, the possibility that theyshould together hire a boat and cross the river, the speed and wildnessof this enterprise filled her mind and inspired her with such rapture,half of love and half of adventure, that William and Cassandra werestartled from their talk, and Cassandra exclaimed, "She looks as if shewere offering up a sacrifice! Very beautiful," she added quickly, thoughshe repressed, in deference to William, her own wonder that the sight ofRalph Denham talking to a boatman on the banks of the Thames could moveany one to such an attitude of adoration.
That afternoon, what with tea and the curiosities of the Thames tunneland the unfamiliarity of the streets, passed so quickly that the onlymethod of prolonging it was to plan another expedition for the followingday. Hampton Court was decided upon, in preference to Hampstead, forthough Cassandra had dreamt as a child of the brigands of Hampstead, shehad now transferred her affections completely and for ever to WilliamIII. Accordingly, they arrived at Hampton Court about lunch-time on afine Sunday morning. Such unity marked their expressions of admirationfor the red-brick building that they might have come there for no otherpurpose than to assure each other that this palace was the stateliestpalace in the world. They walked up and down the Terrace, four abreast,and fancied themselves the owners of the place, and calculated theamount of good to the world produced indubitably by such a tenancy.
"The only hope for us," said Katharine, "is that William shall die, andCassandra shall be given rooms as the widow of a distinguished poet."
"Or--" Cassandra began, but checked herself from the liberty ofenvisaging Katharine as the widow of a distinguished lawyer. Upon this,the third day of junketing, it was tiresome to have to restrain oneselfeven from such innocent excursions of fancy. She dared not questionWilliam; he was inscrutable; he never seemed even to follow the othercouple with curiosity when they separated, as they frequently did, toname a plant, or examine a fresco. Cassandra was constantly studyingtheir backs. She noticed how sometimes the impulse to move came fromKatharine, and sometimes from Ralph; how, sometimes, they walked slow,as if in profound intercourse, and sometimes fast, as if in passionate.When they came together again nothing could be more unconcerned thantheir manner.
"We have been wondering whether they ever catch a fish..." or, "We mustleave time to visit the Maze." Then, to puzzle her further, William andRalph filled in all interstices of meal-times or railway journeys withperfectly good-tempered arguments; or they discussed politics, or theytold stories, or they did sums together upon the backs of old envelopesto prove something. She suspected that Katharine was absent-minded, butit was impossible to tell. There were moments when she felt so young andinexperienced that she almost wished herself back with the silkworms atStogdon House, and not embarked upon this bewildering intrigue.
These moments, however, were only the necessary shadow or chill whichproved the substance of her bliss, and did not damage the radiance whichseemed to rest equally upon the whole party. The fresh air of spring,the sky washed of clouds and already shedding warmth from its blue,seemed the reply vouchsafed by nature to the mood of her chosen spirits.These chosen spirits were to be found also among the deer, dumblybasking, and among the fish, set still in mid-stream, for they were mutesharers in a benignant state not needing any exposition by the tongue.No words that Cassandra could come by expressed the stillness, thebrightness, the air of expectancy which lay upon the orderly beautyof the grass walks and gravel paths down which they went walking fourabreast that Sunday afternoon. Silently the shadows of the trees layacross the broad sunshine; silence wrapt her heart in its folds. Thequivering stillness of the butterfly on the half-opened flower, thesilent grazing of the deer in the sun, were the sights her eye restedupon and received as the images of her own nature laid open to happinessand trembling in its ecstasy.
But the afternoon wore on, and it became time to leave the gardens.As they drove from Waterloo to Chelsea, Katharine began to have somecompunction about her father, which, together with the opening ofoffices and the need of working in them on Monday, made it difficult toplan another festival for the following day. Mr. Hilbery had taken theirabsence, so far, with paternal benevolence, but they could not trespassupon it indefinitely. Indeed, had they known it, he was alreadysuffering from their absence, and longing for their return.
He had no dislike of solitude, and Sunday, in particular, was pleasantlyadapted for letter-writing, paying calls, or a visit to his club. He wasleaving the house on some such suitable expedition towards tea-timewhen he found himself stopped on his own doorstep by his sister, Mrs.Milvain. She should, on hearing that no one was at home, have withdrawnsubmissively, but instead she accepted his half-hearted invitation tocome in, and he found himself in the melancholy position of being forcedto order tea for her and sit in the drawing-room while she drank it. Shespeedily made it plain that she was only thus exacting because she hadcome on a matter of business. He was by no means exhilarated at thenews.
"Katharine is out this afternoon," he remarked. "Why not come roundlater and discuss it with her--with us both, eh?"
"My dear Trevor, I have particular reasons for wishing to talk to youalone.... Where is Katharine?"
"She's out with her young man, naturally. Cassandra plays the part ofchaperone very usefully. A charming young woman that--a great favoriteof mine." He turned his stone between his fingers, and conceiveddifferent methods of leading Celia away from her obsession, which, hesupposed, must have reference to the domestic affairs of Cyril as usual.
"With Cassandra," Mrs. Milvain repeated significantly. "With Cassandra."
"Yes, with Cassandr
a," Mr. Hilbery agreed urbanely, pleased at thediversion. "I think they said they were going to Hampton Court, and Irather believe they were taking a protege of mine, Ralph Denham, a veryclever fellow, too, to amuse Cassandra. I thought the arrangement verysuitable." He was prepared to dwell at some length upon this safe topic,and trusted that Katharine would come in before he had done with it.
"Hampton Court always seems to me an ideal spot for engaged couples.There's the Maze, there's a nice place for having tea--I forget whatthey call it--and then, if the young man knows his business he contrivesto take his lady upon the river. Full of possibilities--full. Cake,Celia?" Mr. Hilbery continued. "I respect my dinner too much, but thatcan't possibly apply to you. You've never observed that feast, so far asI can remember."
Her brother's affability did not deceive Mrs. Milvain; it slightlysaddened her; she well knew the cause of it. Blind and infatuated asusual!
"Who is this Mr. Denham?" she asked.
"Ralph Denham?" said Mr. Hilbery, in relief that her mind had taken thisturn. "A very interesting young man. I've a great belief in him. He's anauthority upon our mediaeval institutions, and if he weren't forced toearn his living he would write a book that very much wants writing--"
"He is not well off, then?" Mrs. Milvain interposed.
"Hasn't a penny, I'm afraid, and a family more or less dependent onhim."
"A mother and sisters?--His father is dead?"
"Yes, his father died some years ago," said Mr. Hilbery, who wasprepared to draw upon his imagination, if necessary, to keep Mrs.Milvain supplied with facts about the private history of Ralph Denhamsince, for some inscrutable reason, the subject took her fancy.
"His father has been dead some time, and this young man had to take hisplace--"
"A legal family?" Mrs. Milvain inquired. "I fancy I've seen the namesomewhere."
Mr. Hilbery shook his head. "I should be inclined to doubt whether theywere altogether in that walk of life," he observed. "I fancy that Denhamonce told me that his father was a corn merchant. Perhaps he said astockbroker. He came to grief, anyhow, as stockbrokers have a way ofdoing. I've a great respect for Denham," he added. The remark soundedto his ears unfortunately conclusive, and he was afraid that therewas nothing more to be said about Denham. He examined the tips of hisfingers carefully. "Cassandra's grown into a very charming young woman,"he started afresh. "Charming to look at, and charming to talk to, thoughher historical knowledge is not altogether profound. Another cup oftea?"
Mrs. Milvain had given her cup a little push, which seemed to indicatesome momentary displeasure. But she did not want any more tea.
"It is Cassandra that I have come about," she began. "I am very sorryto say that Cassandra is not at all what you think her, Trevor. She hasimposed upon your and Maggie's goodness. She has behaved in a way thatwould have seemed incredible--in this house of all houses--were it notfor other circumstances that are still more incredible."
Mr. Hilbery looked taken aback, and was silent for a second.
"It all sounds very black," he remarked urbanely, continuing hisexamination of his finger-nails. "But I own I am completely in thedark."
Mrs. Milvain became rigid, and emitted her message in little shortsentences of extreme intensity.
"Who has Cassandra gone out with? William Rodney. Who has Katharine goneout with? Ralph Denham. Why are they for ever meeting each other roundstreet corners, and going to music-halls, and taking cabs late atnight? Why will Katharine not tell me the truth when I question her?I understand the reason now. Katharine has entangled herself with thisunknown lawyer; she has seen fit to condone Cassandra's conduct."
There was another slight pause.
"Ah, well, Katharine will no doubt have some explanation to give me,"Mr. Hilbery replied imperturbably. "It's a little too complicated forme to take in all at once, I confess--and, if you won't think me rude,Celia, I think I'll be getting along towards Knightsbridge."
Mrs. Milvain rose at once.
"She has condoned Cassandra's conduct and entangled herself with RalphDenham," she repeated. She stood very erect with the dauntless air ofone testifying to the truth regardless of consequences. She knew frompast discussions that the only way to counter her brother's indolenceand indifference was to shoot her statements at him in a compressed formonce finally upon leaving the room. Having spoken thus, she restrainedherself from adding another word, and left the house with the dignity ofone inspired by a great ideal.
She had certainly framed her remarks in such a way as to prevent herbrother from paying his call in the region of Knightsbridge. He had nofears for Katharine, but there was a suspicion at the back of his mindthat Cassandra might have been, innocently and ignorantly, led into somefoolish situation in one of their unshepherded dissipations. His wifewas an erratic judge of the conventions; he himself was lazy; and withKatharine absorbed, very naturally--Here he recalled, as well as hecould, the exact nature of the charge. "She has condoned Cassandra'sconduct and entangled herself with Ralph Denham." From which it appearedthat Katharine was NOT absorbed, or which of them was it that hadentangled herself with Ralph Denham? From this maze of absurdity Mr.Hilbery saw no way out until Katharine herself came to his help, so thathe applied himself, very philosophically on the whole, to a book.
No sooner had he heard the young people come in and go upstairs than hesent a maid to tell Miss Katharine that he wished to speak to her in thestudy. She was slipping furs loosely onto the floor in the drawing-roomin front of the fire. They were all gathered round, reluctant to part.The message from her father surprised Katharine, and the others caughtfrom her look, as she turned to go, a vague sense of apprehension.
Mr. Hilbery was reassured by the sight of her. He congratulated himself,he prided himself, upon possessing a daughter who had a sense ofresponsibility and an understanding of life profound beyond her years.Moreover, she was looking to-day unusual; he had come to take her beautyfor granted; now he remembered it and was surprised by it. He thoughtinstinctively that he had interrupted some happy hour of hers withRodney, and apologized.
"I'm sorry to bother you, my dear. I heard you come in, and thought I'dbetter make myself disagreeable at once--as it seems, unfortunately,that fathers are expected to make themselves disagreeable. Now, yourAunt Celia has been to see me; your Aunt Celia has taken it into herhead apparently that you and Cassandra have been--let us say alittle foolish. This going about together--these pleasant littleparties--there's been some kind of misunderstanding. I told her I saw noharm in it, but I should just like to hear from yourself. Has Cassandrabeen left a little too much in the company of Mr. Denham?"
Katharine did not reply at once, and Mr. Hilbery tapped the coalencouragingly with the poker. Then she said, without embarrassment orapology:
"I don't see why I should answer Aunt Celia's questions. I've told heralready that I won't."
Mr. Hilbery was relieved and secretly amused at the thought of theinterview, although he could not license such irreverence outwardly.
"Very good. Then you authorize me to tell her that she's been mistaken,and there was nothing but a little fun in it? You've no doubt,Katharine, in your own mind? Cassandra is in our charge, and I don'tintend that people should gossip about her. I suggest that you should bea little more careful in future. Invite me to your next entertainment."
She did not respond, as he had hoped, with any affectionate or humorousreply. She meditated, pondering something or other, and he reflectedthat even his Katharine did not differ from other women in the capacityto let things be. Or had she something to say?
"Have you a guilty conscience?" he inquired lightly. "Tell me,Katharine," he said more seriously, struck by something in theexpression of her eyes.
"I've been meaning to tell you for some time," she said, "I'm not goingto marry William."
"You're not going--!" he exclaimed, dropping the poker in his immensesurprise. "Why? When? Explain yourself, Katharine."
"Oh, some time ago--a week, perhaps more." Katharine
spoke hurriedly andindifferently, as if the matter could no longer concern any one.
"But may I ask--why have I not been told of this--what do you mean byit?"
"We don't wish to be married--that's all."
"This is William's wish as well as yours?"
"Oh, yes. We agree perfectly."
Mr. Hilbery had seldom felt more completely at a loss. He thought thatKatharine was treating the matter with curious unconcern; she scarcelyseemed aware of the gravity of what she was saying; he did notunderstand the position at all. But his desire to smooth everything overcomfortably came to his relief. No doubt there was some quarrel, somewhimsey on the part of William, who, though a good fellow, was a littleexacting sometimes--something that a woman could put right. But thoughhe inclined to take the easiest view of his responsibilities, he caredtoo much for this daughter to let things be.
"I confess I find great difficulty in following you. I should like tohear William's side of the story," he said irritably. "I think he oughtto have spoken to me in the first instance."
"I wouldn't let him," said Katharine. "I know it must seem to you verystrange," she added. "But I assure you, if you'd wait a little--untilmother comes back."
This appeal for delay was much to Mr. Hilbery's liking. But hisconscience would not suffer it. People were talking. He could not endurethat his daughter's conduct should be in any way considered irregular.He wondered whether, in the circumstances, it would be better to wire tohis wife, to send for one of his sisters, to forbid William thehouse, to pack Cassandra off home--for he was vaguely conscious ofresponsibilities in her direction, too. His forehead was becoming moreand more wrinkled by the multiplicity of his anxieties, which he wassorely tempted to ask Katharine to solve for him, when the door openedand William Rodney appeared. This necessitated a complete change, notonly of manner, but of position also.
"Here's William," Katharine exclaimed, in a tone of relief. "I've toldfather we're not engaged," she said to him. "I've explained that Iprevented you from telling him."
William's manner was marked by the utmost formality. He bowed veryslightly in the direction of Mr. Hilbery, and stood erect, holding onelapel of his coat, and gazing into the center of the fire. He waited forMr. Hilbery to speak.
Mr. Hilbery also assumed an appearance of formidable dignity. He hadrisen to his feet, and now bent the top part of his body slightlyforward.
"I should like your account of this affair, Rodney--if Katharine nolonger prevents you from speaking."
William waited two seconds at least.
"Our engagement is at an end," he said, with the utmost stiffness.
"Has this been arrived at by your joint desire?"
After a perceptible pause William bent his head, and Katharine said, asif by an afterthought:
"Oh, yes."
Mr. Hilbery swayed to and fro, and moved his lips as if to utter remarkswhich remained unspoken.
"I can only suggest that you should postpone any decision until theeffect of this misunderstanding has had time to wear off. You have nowknown each other--" he began.
"There's been no misunderstanding," Katharine interposed. "Nothing atall." She moved a few paces across the room, as if she intended toleave them. Her preoccupied naturalness was in strange contrast to herfather's pomposity and to William's military rigidity. He had not onceraised his eyes. Katharine's glance, on the other hand, ranged past thetwo gentlemen, along the books, over the tables, towards the door.She was paying the least possible attention, it seemed, to what washappening. Her father looked at her with a sudden clouding and troublingof his expression. Somehow his faith in her stability and sense wasqueerly shaken. He no longer felt that he could ultimately entrust herwith the whole conduct of her own affairs after a superficial show ofdirecting them. He felt, for the first time in many years, responsiblefor her.
"Look here, we must get to the bottom of this," he said, dropping hisformal manner and addressing Rodney as if Katharine were not present."You've had some difference of opinion, eh? Take my word for it, mostpeople go through this sort of thing when they're engaged. I've seenmore trouble come from long engagements than from any other formof human folly. Take my advice and put the whole matter out of yourminds--both of you. I prescribe a complete abstinence from emotion.Visit some cheerful seaside resort, Rodney."
He was struck by William's appearance, which seemed to him to indicateprofound feeling resolutely held in check. No doubt, he reflected,Katharine had been very trying, unconsciously trying, and had drivenhim to take up a position which was none of his willing. Mr. Hilberycertainly did not overrate William's sufferings. No minutes in his lifehad hitherto extorted from him such intensity of anguish. He wasnow facing the consequences of his insanity. He must confess himselfentirely and fundamentally other than Mr. Hilbery thought him.Everything was against him. Even the Sunday evening and the fire and thetranquil library scene were against him. Mr. Hilbery's appeal to him asa man of the world was terribly against him. He was no longer a man ofany world that Mr. Hilbery cared to recognize. But some power compelledhim, as it had compelled him to come downstairs, to make his stand hereand now, alone and unhelped by any one, without prospect of reward. Hefumbled with various phrases; and then jerked out:
"I love Cassandra."
Mr. Hilbery's face turned a curious dull purple. He looked at hisdaughter. He nodded his head, as if to convey his silent command to herto leave the room; but either she did not notice it or preferred not toobey.
"You have the impudence--" Mr. Hilbery began, in a dull, low voicethat he himself had never heard before, when there was a scuffling andexclaiming in the hall, and Cassandra, who appeared to be insistingagainst some dissuasion on the part of another, burst into the room.
"Uncle Trevor," she exclaimed, "I insist upon telling you the truth!"She flung herself between Rodney and her uncle, as if she sought tointercept their blows. As her uncle stood perfectly still, looking verylarge and imposing, and as nobody spoke, she shrank back a little, andlooked first at Katharine and then at Rodney. "You must know the truth,"she said, a little lamely.
"You have the impudence to tell me this in Katharine's presence?" Mr.Hilbery continued, speaking with complete disregard of Cassandra'sinterruption.
"I am aware, quite aware--" Rodney's words, which were broken in sense,spoken after a pause, and with his eyes upon the ground, neverthelessexpressed an astonishing amount of resolution. "I am quite aware whatyou must think of me," he brought out, looking Mr. Hilbery directly inthe eyes for the first time.
"I could express my views on the subject more fully if we were alone,"Mr. Hilbery returned.
"But you forget me," said Katharine. She moved a little towards Rodney,and her movement seemed to testify mutely to her respect for him, andher alliance with him. "I think William has behaved perfectly rightly,and, after all, it is I who am concerned--I and Cassandra."
Cassandra, too, gave an indescribably slight movement which seemed todraw the three of them into alliance together. Katharine's tone andglance made Mr. Hilbery once more feel completely at a loss, and inaddition, painfully and angrily obsolete; but in spite of an awful innerhollowness he was outwardly composed.
"Cassandra and Rodney have a perfect right to settle their own affairsaccording to their own wishes; but I see no reason why they should doso either in my room or in my house.... I wish to be quite clear on thispoint, however; you are no longer engaged to Rodney."
He paused, and his pause seemed to signify that he was extremelythankful for his daughter's deliverance.
Cassandra turned to Katharine, who drew her breath as if to speak andchecked herself; Rodney, too, seemed to await some movement on herpart; her father glanced at her as if he half anticipated some furtherrevelation. She remained perfectly silent. In the silence they hearddistinctly steps descending the staircase, and Katharine went straightto the door.
"Wait," Mr. Hilbery commanded. "I wish to speak to you--alone," headded.
She paused, holding the door aj
ar.
"I'll come back," she said, and as she spoke she opened the door andwent out. They could hear her immediately speak to some one outside,though the words were inaudible.
Mr. Hilbery was left confronting the guilty couple, who remainedstanding as if they did not accept their dismissal, and thedisappearance of Katharine had brought some change into the situation.So, in his secret heart, Mr. Hilbery felt that it had, for he could notexplain his daughter's behavior to his own satisfaction.
"Uncle Trevor," Cassandra exclaimed impulsively, "don't be angry,please. I couldn't help it; I do beg you to forgive me."
Her uncle still refused to acknowledge her identity, and still talkedover her head as if she did not exist.
"I suppose you have communicated with the Otways," he said to Rodneygrimly.
"Uncle Trevor, we wanted to tell you," Cassandra replied for him. "Wewaited--" she looked appealingly at Rodney, who shook his head ever soslightly.
"Yes? What were you waiting for?" her uncle asked sharply, looking ather at last.
The words died on her lips. It was apparent that she was straining herears as if to catch some sound outside the room that would come to herhelp. He received no answer. He listened, too.
"This is a most unpleasant business for all parties," he concluded,sinking into his chair again, hunching his shoulders and regarding theflames. He seemed to speak to himself, and Rodney and Cassandra lookedat him in silence.
"Why don't you sit down?" he said suddenly. He spoke gruffly, but theforce of his anger was evidently spent, or some preoccupation had turnedhis mood to other regions. While Cassandra accepted his invitation,Rodney remained standing.
"I think Cassandra can explain matters better in my absence," he said,and left the room, Mr. Hilbery giving his assent by a slight nod of thehead.
Meanwhile, in the dining-room next door, Denham and Katharine wereonce more seated at the mahogany table. They seemed to be continuing aconversation broken off in the middle, as if each remembered the precisepoint at which they had been interrupted, and was eager to go on asquickly as possible. Katharine, having interposed a short account of theinterview with her father, Denham made no comment, but said:
"Anyhow, there's no reason why we shouldn't see each other."
"Or stay together. It's only marriage that's out of the question,"Katharine replied.
"But if I find myself coming to want you more and more?"
"If our lapses come more and more often?"
He sighed impatiently, and said nothing for a moment.
"But at least," he renewed, "we've established the fact that my lapsesare still in some odd way connected with you; yours have nothing to dowith me. Katharine," he added, his assumption of reason broken up byhis agitation, "I assure you that we are in love--what other peoplecall love. Remember that night. We had no doubts whatever then. We wereabsolutely happy for half an hour. You had no lapse until the day after;I had no lapse until yesterday morning. We've been happy at intervalsall day until I--went off my head, and you, quite naturally, werebored."
"Ah," she exclaimed, as if the subject chafed her, "I can't make youunderstand. It's not boredom--I'm never bored. Reality--reality," sheejaculated, tapping her finger upon the table as if to emphasize andperhaps explain her isolated utterance of this word. "I cease to be realto you. It's the faces in a storm again--the vision in a hurricane. Wecome together for a moment and we part. It's my fault, too. I'm as badas you are--worse, perhaps."
They were trying to explain, not for the first time, as their wearygestures and frequent interruptions showed, what in their commonlanguage they had christened their "lapses"; a constant source ofdistress to them, in the past few days, and the immediate reason whyRalph was on his way to leave the house when Katharine, listeninganxiously, heard him and prevented him. What was the cause of theselapses? Either because Katharine looked more beautiful, or more strange,because she wore something different, or said something unexpected,Ralph's sense of her romance welled up and overcame him either intosilence or into inarticulate expressions, which Katharine, withunintentional but invariable perversity, interrupted or contradictedwith some severity or assertion of prosaic fact. Then the visiondisappeared, and Ralph expressed vehemently in his turn the convictionthat he only loved her shadow and cared nothing for her reality. If thelapse was on her side it took the form of gradual detachment until shebecame completely absorbed in her own thoughts, which carried heraway with such intensity that she sharply resented any recall to hercompanion's side. It was useless to assert that these trances werealways originated by Ralph himself, however little in their later stagesthey had to do with him. The fact remained that she had no need of himand was very loath to be reminded of him. How, then, could they be inlove? The fragmentary nature of their relationship was but too apparent.
Thus they sat depressed to silence at the dining-room table, obliviousof everything, while Rodney paced the drawing-room overhead in suchagitation and exaltation of mind as he had never conceived possible,and Cassandra remained alone with her uncle. Ralph, at length, rose andwalked gloomily to the window. He pressed close to the pane. Outsidewere truth and freedom and the immensity only to be apprehended bythe mind in loneliness, and never communicated to another. What worsesacrilege was there than to attempt to violate what he perceived byseeking to impart it? Some movement behind him made him reflect thatKatharine had the power, if she chose, to be in person what he dreamedof her spirit. He turned sharply to implore her help, when again he wasstruck cold by her look of distance, her expression of intentness uponsome far object. As if conscious of his look upon her she rose and cameto him, standing close by his side, and looking with him out into thedusky atmosphere. Their physical closeness was to him a bitter enoughcomment upon the distance between their minds. Yet distant as shewas, her presence by his side transformed the world. He saw himselfperforming wonderful deeds of courage; saving the drowning, rescuing theforlorn. Impatient with this form of egotism, he could not shake offthe conviction that somehow life was wonderful, romantic, a masterworth serving so long as she stood there. He had no wish that she shouldspeak; he did not look at her or touch her; she was apparently deep inher own thoughts and oblivious of his presence.
The door opened without their hearing the sound. Mr. Hilbery lookedround the room, and for a moment failed to discover the two figures inthe window. He started with displeasure when he saw them, and observedthem keenly before he appeared able to make up his mind to say anything.He made a movement finally that warned them of his presence; they turnedinstantly. Without speaking, he beckoned to Katharine to come to him,and, keeping his eyes from the region of the room where Denham stood,he shepherded her in front of him back to the study. When Katharine wasinside the room he shut the study door carefully behind him as if tosecure himself from something that he disliked.
"Now, Katharine," he said, taking up his stand in front of the fire,"you will, perhaps, have the kindness to explain--" She remained silent."What inferences do you expect me to draw?" he said sharply.... "Youtell me that you are not engaged to Rodney; I see you on what appear tobe extremely intimate terms with another--with Ralph Denham. What am Ito conclude? Are you," he added, as she still said nothing, "engaged toRalph Denham?"
"No," she replied.
His sense of relief was great; he had been certain that her answer wouldhave confirmed his suspicions, but that anxiety being set at rest, hewas the more conscious of annoyance with her for her behavior.
"Then all I can say is that you've very strange ideas of the properway to behave.... People have drawn certain conclusions, nor am Isurprised.... The more I think of it the more inexplicable I find it,"he went on, his anger rising as he spoke. "Why am I left in ignorance ofwhat is going on in my own house? Why am I left to hear of these eventsfor the first time from my sister? Most disagreeable--most upsetting.How I'm to explain to your Uncle Francis--but I wash my hands of it.Cassandra goes tomorrow. I forbid Rodney the house. As for the otheryoung man, the sooner he makes
himself scarce the better. After placingthe most implicit trust in you, Katharine--" He broke off, disquietedby the ominous silence with which his words were received, and looked athis daughter with the curious doubt as to her state of mind which he hadfelt before, for the first time, this evening. He perceived once morethat she was not attending to what he said, but was listening, and for amoment he, too, listened for sounds outside the room. His certainty thatthere was some understanding between Denham and Katharine returned, butwith a most unpleasant suspicion that there was something illicit aboutit, as the whole position between the young people seemed to him gravelyillicit.
"I'll speak to Denham," he said, on the impulse of his suspicion, movingas if to go.
"I shall come with you," Katharine said instantly, starting forward.
"You will stay here," said her father.
"What are you going to say to him?" she asked.
"I suppose I may say what I like in my own house?" he returned.
"Then I go, too," she replied.
At these words, which seemed to imply a determination to go--to go forever, Mr. Hilbery returned to his position in front of the fire, andbegan swaying slightly from side to side without for the moment makingany remark.
"I understood you to say that you were not engaged to him," he said atlength, fixing his eyes upon his daughter.
"We are not engaged," she said.
"It should be a matter of indifference to you, then, whether he comeshere or not--I will not have you listening to other things when I amspeaking to you!" he broke off angrily, perceiving a slight movement onher part to one side. "Answer me frankly, what is your relationship withthis young man?"
"Nothing that I can explain to a third person," she said obstinately.
"I will have no more of these equivocations," he replied.
"I refuse to explain," she returned, and as she said it the front doorbanged to. "There!" she exclaimed. "He is gone!" She flashed such a lookof fiery indignation at her father that he lost his self-control for amoment.
"For God's sake, Katharine, control yourself!" he cried.
She looked for a moment like a wild animal caged in a civilizeddwelling-place. She glanced over the walls covered with books, as if fora second she had forgotten the position of the door. Then she made as ifto go, but her father laid his hand upon her shoulder. He compelled herto sit down.
"These emotions have been very upsetting, naturally," he said. Hismanner had regained all its suavity, and he spoke with a soothingassumption of paternal authority. "You've been placed in a verydifficult position, as I understand from Cassandra. Now let us come toterms; we will leave these agitating questions in peace for the present.Meanwhile, let us try to behave like civilized beings. Let us read SirWalter Scott. What d'you say to 'The Antiquary,' eh? Or 'The Bride ofLammermoor'?"
He made his own choice, and before his daughter could protest or makeher escape, she found herself being turned by the agency of Sir WalterScott into a civilized human being.
Yet Mr. Hilbery had grave doubts, as he read, whether the processwas more than skin-deep. Civilization had been very profoundly andunpleasantly overthrown that evening; the extent of the ruin was stillundetermined; he had lost his temper, a physical disaster not to bematched for the space of ten years or so; and his own condition urgentlyrequired soothing and renovating at the hands of the classics. His housewas in a state of revolution he had a vision of unpleasant encounterson the staircase; his meals would be poisoned for days to come; wasliterature itself a specific against such disagreeables? A note ofhollowness was in his voice as he read.