Lucy, listening to her barbed silkinesses at lunch on Thursday, hoped that she would not ingratiate herself sufficiently1 with Adrian to be included in the supper party; she was looking forward to Friday night, and she most certainly would not look forward any more if Madame was going to be watching her all evening with those eyes of hers. Perhaps Miss Lux would put a spoke2 in her wheel in time. It was not Miss Lux’s habit to put up with something that was not to her mind.
Still thinking of Madame and Miss Lux and tomorrow night, she turned her eyes absently on the students, and saw Innes’s face. And her heart stopped.
It was three days, she supposed, since she had seen Innes for more than a moment in passing; but could three days have done this to a young girl’s face? She stared, trying to decide where the change actually lay. Innes was thinner, and very pale, certainly, but it was not that. It was not even the shadows under her eyes and the small hollow at the temple. Not even the expression; she was eating her lunch with her eyes on the plate in apparent calm. And yet the face shocked Lucy. She wondered if the others saw; she wondered that no one had mentioned it. The thing was as subtle and as obvious as the expression on the face of the Mona Lisa; as indefinable and as impossible to ignore.
So that is what it is to “burn up inside,” she thought. “It is bad to burn up inside,” Beau had said. Verily it must be bad if it ravaged3 a face like that. How could a face be at the same time calm and — and look like that? How, if it came to that, could one have birds tearing at one’s vitals and still keep that calm face?
Her glance went to Beau, at the head of the nearer table, and she caught Beau’s anxious look at Innes.
“I hope you gave Mr Adrian an invitation card?” Miss Hodge said to Lux.
“No,” said Lux, bored with the subject of Adrian.
“And I hope you have told Miss Joliffe that there will be one more for tea.”
“He doesn’t eat at tea-time, so I didn’t bother.”
Oh, stop talking little sillinesses, Lucy wanted to say, and look at Innes. What is happening to her? Look at the girl who was so radiant only last Saturday afternoon. Look at her. What does she remind you of? Sitting there so calm and beautiful and all wrong inside. What does she remind you of? One of those brilliant things that grow in the woods, isn’t it? One of those apparently4 perfect things that collapse5 into dust at a touch because they are hollow inside.
“Innes is not looking well,” she said in careful understatement to Lux as they went upstairs.
“She is looking very ill,” Lux said bluntly. “And would you wonder?”
“Isn’t there something one can do about it?” Lucy asked.
“One could find her the kind of post she deserves,” Lux said dryly. “As there is no post available at all, that doesn’t seem likely to materialise.”
“You mean that she will just have to begin to answer advertisements?”
“Yes. It is only a fortnight to the end of term, and there are not likely to be any more posts in Miss Hodge’s gift now. Most places for September are filled by this time. The final irony6, isn’t it? That the most brilliant student we have had for years is reduced to application-in-own-handwriting-with-five-copies-of-testimonials-not-returnable.”
It was damnable, Lucy thought; quite damnable.
“She was offered a post, so that lets Miss Hodge out.”
“But it was a medical one, and she doesn’t want that,” Lucy said.
“Oh, yes, yes! you don’t have to convert me; I’m enlisted7 already.”
Lucy thought of tomorrow, when the parents would come and radiant daughters would show them round, full of the years they had spent here and the new achievement that was theirs. How Innes must have looked forward to that; looked forward to seeing the two people who loved her so well and who had by care and deprivation8 managed to give her the training she wanted; looked forward to putting Arlinghurst in their laps.
It was bad enough to be a leaving student without a post, but that was a matter susceptible9 to remedy. What could never be remedied was the injustice10 of it. It was Lucy’s private opinion that injustice was harder to bear than almost any other inflicted11 ill. She could remember yet the surprised hurt, the helpless rage, the despair that used to consume her when she was young and the victim of an injustice. It was the helpless rage that was worst; it consumed one like a slow fire. There was no outlet12, because there was nothing one could do about it. A very destructive emotion indeed. Lucy supposed that she had been like Innes, and lacked a sense of humour. But did the young ever have the detachment necessary for a proper focusing of their own griefs? Of course not. It was not people of forty who went upstairs and hanged themselves because someone had said a wrong word to them at the wrong moment, it was adolescents of fourteen.
Lucy thought she knew the passion of rage and disappointment and hate that was eating Innes up. It was enormously to her credit that she had taken the shock with outward dignity. A different type would have babbled13 to all and sundry14, and collected sympathy like a street singer catching15 coins in a hat. But not Innes. A sense of humour she might lack — oil on her feathers, as Beau said — but the suffering that lack entailed16 was her own affair; not to be exhibited to anyone — least of all to people she unconsciously referred to as “them.”
Lucy had failed to think of a nice non-committal way of expressing her sympathy; flowers and sweets and all the conventional marks of active friendship were not to be considered, and she had found no substitute; and she was disgusted with herself now to realise that Innes’s trouble, even though it was next-door to her all night, had begun to fade into the back-ground for her. She had remembered it each night as Innes came to her room after the “bedroom” bell, and while the small noises next-door reminded her of the girl’s existence. She had wondered and fretted17 about her for a little before falling to sleep. But during the crowded many-faceted days she had come near forgetting her.
Rouse had made no move to give a Post party on Saturday night; but whether this was due to tact18, an awareness19 of College feeling on the subject, or the natural thrift20 with which, it seemed, she was credited, no one knew. The universal party that had been so triumphantly21 planned for Innes was no more heard of; a universal party for Rouse was something that was apparently not contemplated22.
Although, even allowing for the fact that Lucy had not been present at the height of the excitement when presumably tongues would have wagged with greater freedom, College had been strangely reticent23 about the Arlinghurst appointment. Even little Miss Morris, who chattered24 with a fine lack of inhibition every morning as she planked the tray down, made no reference to it. In this affair Lucy was for College purposes “Staff”; an outsider; perhaps a sharer in blame. She did not like the idea at all.
But what she liked least of all, and now could not get out of her mind, was Innes’s barren tomorrow. The tomorrow that she had slaved those years for, the tomorrow that was to have been such a triumph. Lucy longed to provide her with a post at once, instantly, here and now; so that when tomorrow that tired happy woman with the luminous25 eyes came at last to see her daughter she would not find her empty-handed.
But of course one could not hawk26 a P.T.I. from door to door like a writing-pad; nor offer her to one’s friends like a misfit frock. Goodwill27 was not enough. And goodwill was practically all she had.
Well, she would use the goodwill and see where it got her. She followed Miss Hodge into her office as the others went upstairs, and said: “Henrietta, can’t we invent a post for Miss Innes? It seems all wrong that she should be jobless.”
“Miss Innes will not be long jobless. And I can’t imagine what consolation28 an imaginary post would be to her meanwhile.”
“I didn’t say imagine, I said invent; manufacture. There must be dozens of places all up and down the country that are still vacant. Couldn’t we bring the job and Innes together somehow without her going through the slow suspense29 of applying? That waiting, Henrietta. Do you remember what it used to be like? The beautifully written applications and the testimonials that never came back.”
“I have already offered Miss Innes a post and she has refused it. I don’t know what more I can do. I have no more vacancies30 to offer.”
“No, but you could get in touch with some of those advertised vacancies on her behalf, couldn’t you?”
“I? But that would be most irregular. And quite unnecessary. She naturally gives my name as a reference when she applies; and if she were not commendable31 ——”
“But you could — oh, you could ask for particulars of the post since you have a particularly brilliant student ——”
“You are being absurd, Lucy.”
“I know, but I want Innes to be very much sought-after by five o’clock this afternoon.”
Miss Hodge, who did not read Kipling — or indeed, acknowledge his existence — stared.
“For a woman who has written such a noteworthy book — Professor Beatock praised it yesterday at the University College tea — you have an extraordinarily32 impulsive33 and frivolous34 mind.”
This defeated Lucy, who was well aware of her mental limitations. Punctured35, she stood looking at Henrietta’s broad back in the window.
“I am greatly afraid,” Henrietta said, “that the weather is going to break. The forecast this morning was anything but reassuring36, and after so long a spell of perfect summer we are due for a change. It would be a tragedy if it decided37 to change tomorrow of all days.”
A tragedy, would it! My God, you big lumbering38 silly woman, it is you who have the frivolous mind. I may have a C3 intelligence and childish impulses but I know tragedy when I see it and it has nothing to do with a lot of people running to save their party frocks or the cucumber sandwiches getting wet. No, by God, it hasn’t.
“Yes, it would be a pity, Henrietta,” she said meekly39, and went away upstairs.
She stood for a little at the landing window watching the thick black clouds massing on the horizon, and hoping evilly that tomorrow they would swamp Leys in one grand Niagara so that the whole place steamed with damp people drying like a laundry. But she noticed almost immediately the heinousness40 of this, and hastily revised her wish. Tomorrow was their great day, bless them; the day they had sweated for, borne bruises41 and sarcasm42 for, been pummelled, broken, and straightened for, hoped, wept, and lived for. It was plain justice that the sun should shine on them.
Besides, it was pretty certain that Mrs Innes had only one pair of “best” shoes.
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1
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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2
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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3
ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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8
deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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10
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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11
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12
outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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13
babbled
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| v.喋喋不休( babble的过去式和过去分词 )；作潺潺声（如流水）；含糊不清地说话；泄漏秘密 | |
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14
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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15
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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16
entailed
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| 使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 )； 需要； 限定继承； 使必需 | |
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17
fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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awareness
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| n.意识，觉悟，懂事，明智 | |
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20
thrift
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| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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24
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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25
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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26
hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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goodwill
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| n.善意，亲善，信誉，声誉 | |
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28
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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30
vacancies
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| n.空房间( vacancy的名词复数 )；空虚；空白；空缺 | |
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31
commendable
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| adj.值得称赞的 | |
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32
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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33
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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34
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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35
punctured
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| v.在（某物）上穿孔( puncture的过去式和过去分词 )；刺穿（某物）；削弱（某人的傲气、信心等）；泄某人的气 | |
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36
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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38
lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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39
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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40
heinousness
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41
bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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42
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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