It was many years since Keeling had given any notice at all to such unmarketable objects as chestnut-buds or building birds. Spring had a certain significance, of course, in the catering11 department, for early vegetables made their appearance, and{230} soon there would arrive the demand for plovers’ eggs: spring, in fact, was a phenomenon that stirred in his pocket rather than his heart. But this year it was full of hints to him, of delicate sensations too fugitive13 to be called emotions, of sudden little thrills of vague longings14 and unformulated desires. A surreptitious half-sheet lurked16 in the blotting-paper on his library table on which he scrawled17 the date of some new flower’s epiphany, or the fact that a thrush was building in the heart of a syringa outside the window. It was characteristic of his business habits to tabulate18 those things: it was characteristic also that he should thrust the catalogue deep into the leaves of his blotting-paper, as if it held some guilty secret.
On this particular Sunday morning, he had not gone to Cathedral service at all, but after his wife and Alice had set forth19 in the victoria to St Thomas’s, had walked out westwards along the road from The Cedars21, to where half a mile away the last house was left behind and the billowing downs rolled away in open sea out of sight of the land of houses. In the main it was the sense of spring with its intimate stirrings that called him out, and the adventure was a remarkable22 one, for it was years since he had failed to attend Sunday morning service. But to-day he sought no stern omnipotent23 Presence, which his religion told him must be invoked24 among arches and altars: he{231} sought maybe the same, under the guise25 of a smiling face, in windy temples. It was not that he consciously sought it: as far as any formulated15 expression went, he would have said that he ‘chose’ to go for a walk in the country, and would attend Cathedral service in the evening as usual. But as he walked he wondered whether Norah would come to The Cedars that morning to work in his library. He had not the slightest intention, however reserved and veiled from himself, of going back there to see; he meant to walk until his wife and daughter would certainly be back from church again, though probably this was among the last two or three mornings that Norah would come to The Cedars at all, for the catalogue was on the point of completion.
But he knew there was another disposition26 of events possible. She had told him yesterday that she was not sure whether she would work there that morning or not. All the week her hours in the office had been long, and she might spend the morning out of doors. He knew already that she loved the downs, and indeed it was she who had told him of this particular path which he was now taking as a favourite ramble28 of hers. Her brother almost invariably walked with her, and Keeling was quite innocent of contriving29 an accidental meeting with her alone. But somewhere floating about in his heart was the imagined possibility that she might be alone, and that he would meet{232} her. He did not expect to meet her at all, but he knew he would love to see her, either with Charles or without, swinging along on this warm windy morning in the freedom of the country air and the great open spaces. They would suit her.... But primarily it was not she in any way that he sought: he wanted open space, and this wonderful sense of spring with its white bowlings of cloud along the blue, and its upthrusting of young grass. He wanted it untrammelled and wild, the tended daffodils and the buildings of birds so near house walls was not part of his mood.
He climbed quickly up the narrow chalky path, and at the top left it to tramp over the turf. Here he was on an eminence30 that commanded miles of open country, empty and yet brimful of this invasion of renewed life that combed through him like a swirl31 of sea-water through the thickets32 of subaqueous weed. His back was to the cup of hills round which Bracebridge clustered, and turning round he looked at it with a curious sense of detachment. There were the spires34 of the Cathedral, and hardly less prominent beside them the terra-cotta cupolas of the Stores. He wanted one as little as he wanted the other, and turned westwards, where the successive lines of downs stretched away like waves of a landless sea. Then he stopped again, for from a tussock of grass not fifty yards from him there shot up with throbbing35 throat and down-beating wings a solitary36 lark37.{233} Somewhere in that tussock was the mate to whom it sang.
Quivering and tuneful it soared, now almost invisible against the blue, but easily seen again when a white cloud rolled up behind it, and the shadow preceding it turned the fresh emerald of the down grass to a dark purplish green. At that the delicate trembling hints of spring suddenly crystallised in Keeling’s heart into strong definite emotion. It was young, it sang to its mate as it climbed into the sky....
Soon it passed altogether out of his sight: it was just a sightless singing out of the winds of March. Then slowly descending38 it appeared again, and its song grew louder. Just before it dropped into its tussock of grass the song ceased.
Keeling waited quite still for a moment, and then came back into himself from the bright places into which he had aspired39.
‘God, there’s no fool like an old fool,’ he said to himself as he skirted with a wide berth40 past the tussock where larks41 were nesting.
The ridge33 on which he walked declined downwards42 into a hollow full of sunshine flecked with shadow. A few big oak-trees stood there, still leafless, and the narrow path, with mossy banks on each side, led through a copse of hazel which had been felled the year before. The ground was covered with the fern-like leaves of wood anemones{234} and thickly tufted with the dark green spears, where in May the bluebells43 would seem like patches of fallen sky. It was sheltered here, and a brimstone butterfly flitted through the patches of sunlight. At the bottom of the hollow a runnel of water from some spring crossed the path, and babbled45 into a cup fringed with creeping ivy47, and young crinkled primrose48 leaves. Then the path rose swiftly upwards49 again on the side of the next rolling billow of down, and coming towards him from it was the figure, tall and swiftly moving, of a girl. For a moment he resented the fact of any human presence here: the next he heard his heart creaking in his throat, for he saw who it was.
By the time he recognised her, he too was recognised, and half way up the climbing path they met. She was carrying her hat in her hand, and the sunlit sparks of fire in her brown bright hair, that the wind had disordered into a wildness that greatly became her and the spirit of the spring morning. Her brisk walking had kindled50 a glow in her cheeks, and she was a little out of breath, for she had run down the path from the crest51 of slope beyond. Standing52 a step or two above him on the steep slope their eyes were on a level; as straight as an arrow’s fight hers looked into his.
‘Not working at the catalogue, then, this morning?’ he said. ‘I wondered whether you would or not.{235}’
‘I meant to,’ she said, ‘until I smelt53 the wind. Then it was impossible. I should not care if every book in the world was burned, I think. And you, not at the Cathedral this morning?’
‘And that might be burned too,’ he said.
She laughed.
‘I’m a Pagan to-day,’ she said, ‘and so it appears are you. Pan is sitting somewhere in this wood. Did you hear his flute54?’
‘No: only the wind and the song of a skylark.’
‘Perhaps that was he. He’s all over the place this morning.’
‘You told me about Pan,’ he said. ‘I had never heard of him before.’
‘Well, you heard him to-day. He was the wind and the skylark. He always is if you know how to listen. But I mustn’t keep you. You are going farther.’
He looked at his watch, not deriving55 any impression from it, then back at her.
‘No, I must turn too,’ he said. ‘Mayn’t I walk with you?’
‘Naturally till we get to the town, and then, as naturally, not. But we must wait in this hollow a little longer. It is brimful of spring. Look at the clumps56 of bluebell44 leaves. In a month there will be a thick blue carpet spread here.’
‘Which are the bluebells?’ he asked.
She pointed57, and then bending down found in{236} the centre of one the bud from which the blossom would expand.
‘I thought they were just some sort of grass,’ he said. ‘The woods are covered with them. Will you show them to me when they are all out?’
‘Oh, Mr Keeling,’ she said. ‘You will surely be able to see them for yourself.’
‘Not so well.’
She rose from her examination of the bud, her face still flushed.
‘Yes, we’ll see them together some Saturday afternoon then,’ she said. ‘I won’t have any hand in your not going to Cathedral on Sunday morning. I suppose we must be getting back. What time was it when you looked at your watch just now?’
‘I forget. I don’t think I saw.’
She laughed.
‘I do that so often when I’m working at the catalogue in the evening,’ she said. ‘I look to see if it is time to go to bed, and then go on working. There isn’t any time so long as you are absorbed in anything.’
They mounted the steep ascent58 down which he had come a few minutes before. The wind was at their backs, ruthlessly blowing them towards Bracebridge.
‘And there’s the opening of the hospital wing to-morrow,’ she said. ‘I suppose you won’t be at the office in the morning at all?’
{237}
‘I shall just look in,’ he said. ‘Will you come to the opening and to the lunch afterwards with your brother? There is a table for some dozen of my staff.’
‘I am sure we should both like to. I love ceremonies and gold chains and personages. I’ve been visiting at the hospital, too, reading to patients.’
‘Have you? You never told me that.’
‘It wasn’t particularly interesting. But I am so sorry for people in hospital. I shall take a basket of bluebells there one day. Only it makes me feel cheap to read for an hour on Saturday afternoon, or pick some flowers. It is so little, and yet what more can I do? If I were rich I would spend thousands on hospitals.’
He was silent a moment.
‘Is that remark made to me?’ he asked.
‘I suppose it is just a little bit. It was very impertinent.’
‘I do subscribe59 to it, you know,’ he said.
‘Oh, yes; I saw your name among the subscribers when I was there yesterday,’ she said rather hurriedly.
Keeling felt a keen and secret enjoyment61 over this. He knew quite well what she must have seen, namely the fact that he was a yearly subscriber60 of ￡10, as set forth on the subscription62 board. He had no temptation whatever to tell her who was the anonymous63 donor64 of the new wing. She would hear that to-morrow, and in{238} the meantime would continue to consider him the donor of ￡10 a year. He liked that: he did not want any curtailment65 of it.
‘And no one knows who the giver of the new wing is?’ she asked.
‘I fancy Lord Inverbroom does,’ he replied, secretly praising himself for his remarkable ingenuity66.
‘I enjoyed that afternoon I spent there,’ she said. ‘They are kind, they are simple, and it is only simple people who count. I wonder if Lord Inverbroom gave the wing himself.’
‘Ah, that had not occurred to me,’ said Keeling.
This served his purpose. Clearly no suspicion of being tricked by an ingenious answer crossed the girl’s mind, and she paused a moment shielding her eyes with her hand and looking towards Bracebridge. That shelter from the sun concealed67 all her face but her mouth, and looking at her he thought that if her mouth alone was visible of her, he could have picked it out as hers among a thousand others. The full upper lip was the slightest degree irregular; it drooped68 a little on the right, falling over the join with the lower lip: it was as if it was infinitesimally swollen there. For one second of stinging desire he longed to shut down her hand over her eyes, and kiss that corner of her mouth. It must have been that about which the skylark sang....{239}
They had come near to the end of the ridge where the steep descent on to the road began. Fifty yards in front, at present unnoticed by him, was the tussock out of which the bird had risen, and even as they paused, she looking at Bracebridge, and he at her, that carolling and jubilation69 began again. At once she put down her shielding hand, and laid it on his sleeve, as if he could not hear.
‘There’s your lark,’ she whispered.
She did not move while the song continued, her hand still rested unconsciously on his sleeve, her eyes looked straight at him, demanding his companionship in that young joy of life that thrilled her no less than the bird. It was that in the main that possessed70 her, and yet, for that delicate intimate moment, she had instinctively71 (so instinctively that she was unaware72 of her choice) chosen him as her companion. She wanted to listen to the lark with him (or his coat) on her finger-tips. Her whole soul was steeped in the joyful73 hour, and it was with him she shared it: it was theirs, not hers alone.
The song grew faint and louder again, then ceased, and she took her hand off his arm.
‘Thanks,’ she said.
They made a wide circuit round that windy home of melody.
‘And now which of us shall go first?’ she said, ‘for we must go alone now. Which of us{240} naturally walks fastest? You, I expect. So I shall sit here for five minutes more and then follow.’
He agreed to this, and strode off down the steep descent. Just before he was out of sight he turned to wave a hand at her. Then she was alone on the great empty down, still hatless, still flushed with wind and walking, and just behind her the tussock where the lark lived.
He found a note for himself on the hall table, and with it in his hand walked into his wife’s room to see if she had returned from church. She was already there, resting a little after the fatigue74 of worship, and extremely voluble.
‘So you are back too, Thomas,’ she said, ‘and what a pity you did not get back sooner. Lord Inverbroom has just called, and left a note for you. I wonder you did not see him in the Cathedral, for he went to service there. I said you always took a walk on Sunday morning after service, so sooner than wait, he wrote a note for you. Oh, you have it in your hand. What a curious handwriting his is: I should have thought a spider from the ink-pot could have done better than that, but no doubt you will be able to make it out. Of course I asked him to stop to lunch, for whether we are alone or expect company, I’m sure my table is good enough for anybody. Alice will not be here: she has gone to lunch with Mr Silverdale.{241}’
‘Oh! Is that quite proper?’
‘Not alone, my dear, what do you take me for? I hope I know what is proper and what is not. His sister has come to stay with him, a most ladylike sort of person, you might almost say distinguished75. She and Alice made great friends instantly: I declare you would have thought they were sisters, instead of the two Silverdales. They were “my dear” to each other before they had talked for five minutes. I thought it quite an omen12.’
‘Of what?’ asked he.
‘Why of their becoming sisters. I am no match-maker, thank God, but really the way in which Mr Silverdale introduced his sister to Alice, why, I have never seen anything like it. “This is my Helper, Margaret,” he said, or perhaps it was Martha: I could not quite catch the name. “This is my dear Helper (that was it) and I couldn’t do without her.” What do you say to that?’
‘I don’t say anything at all, my dear,’ he said. ‘Mr Silverdale has said it too often.’
‘Ah, but the tone: there is so much in the tone,’ said this excruciating lady. ‘How very odd it would be to hear a clergyman give out his own banns.’
‘I should think it remarkably76 odd if they were Alice’s too,’ said Keeling.
‘Well, and I dare say it won’t be long before you are finely surprised then. Pray tell me what Lord{242} Inverbroom says. I am sure it is about the opening of the hospital to-morrow. I have practised my royal curtsey. I can get down and up quite easily, indeed Mamma thought it most graceful77, and she does not praise without reason. Perhaps Lord Inverbroom wants me to come down to the bottom of the steps and make my curtsey there. If he insists, of course I will do it, for naturally he knows more about court etiquette78 than I do at present. I will certainly bow to his superior knowledge.’
Keeling stood there with his letter still unopened. Half an hour ago he had been with Norah, listening to the skylark on the downs. Now on the pink clock in front of him hung the quaint79 spider’s web, which Jane had been most careful about. He felt as if he was caught there....
‘Or it may be about the bouquet80,’ continued his wife. ‘Very likely he has found out that the princess has some favourite flower, in which case it would be only right to have it made of that instead of carnations81 and gypso-something, and I could say, “Your favourite flower, your Royal Highness,” or something of the sort. Pray open your letter, Thomas, and see what it is.’
Keeling found no difficulty in deciphering the handwriting. There were three pages, and glancing through them, he moved towards the door.
‘Nothing whatever about the ceremony to-morrow,’ he said.{243}
He went to his library and gave a more detailed82 perusal83 to what Lord Inverbroom had to say. It was a disagreeable letter to read, and he felt that the writing of it had been disagreeable to its author. It informed him that since Lord Inverbroom had put his name up for election into the County Club, he had become aware that there were a considerable number of members who would certainly vote against his election. Lord Inverbroom had spoken to various of these, but had not succeeded in mitigating85 their opposition86 and was afraid that his candidate would certainly not be elected. In these circumstances did Mr Keeling wish him to withdraw his name or not? He would be entirely87 guided by his wishes. He added a very simple and sincere expression of his regret at the course events had taken.
Keeling read this through once and once again before he passed to the consideration of the answer he would make to it. He found that it said very disagreeable things inoffensively, which seemed to him a feat88, knowing that if he wrote a letter containing disagreeable news, the tone of his letter would be disagreeable also. He could not quite understand how it was done, but certainly he felt no kind of offence towards the writer.
But the contents were another matter, and they both annoyed him excessively, and kindled in him a blaze of defiance89. He would much have{244} liked to know who were these members for whom he was not good enough, and whose opposition Lord Inverbroom had been unable to mitigate90. But as far as withdrawing his candidature went for fear of the result of the election, or acquainting Lord Inverbroom of the fact that as purchaser of the property he had the ex officio privilege of being a member, such craven notions never entered his head. If sufficient members to secure his rejection91, objected to him, they should record their objections: he was not going to withdraw on the chance of their doing so. He had never yet abandoned a business proposition for fear of competition, and it seemed to him that to withdraw his name was somehow parallel to being frightened out of a deal. Judging from the purely92 business standpoint (and there was his mistake) he expected to find that a large quantity of this supposed opposition was bluff93. Besides, before the election came on, it would be known who had given the new wing to the hospital, and pulled the committee out of a quagmire94 of rotten finance: it would be known too, that whether the County Club thought him a suitable occupant of the bow-window that looked on Alfred Street, his Sovereign thought him good enough to go into dinner before any of them except Lord Inverbroom. He was no snob95 himself, but he suspected that a good many other people were.
Accordingly even before the gong sounded for{245} lunch, he had finished a note in answer to Lord Inverbroom’s as follows:—
‘Dear Lord Inverbroom,—I am obliged for your favour just to hand, and regret I was out. I should be obliged if you would kindly96 fulfil the engagement you entered into with me, and put me up for election as agreed. I do not in the least fear the result of the election, and so trust you may be in error about it.
‘Faithfully yours,
‘Thomas Keeling.’
This he read through before posting it. It was a sound business letter, saying just what it set out to say. But he wondered why it lacked that certain aroma98 of courtesy which distinguished the letter which it answered. He perceived that it was so, but no more knew how to remedy it than he knew how to fly. But he could walk pretty sturdily along the ground, and it required a stalwart push to upset him. And if the undesirable99 happened, and Lord Inverbroom’s fears proved to be well founded, he knew he had a sound knock ready for the whole assembly of those who collectively thought he was not good enough for them.
‘I’ll find an answer that’s good enough for them,’ he said to himself, as he slipped the letter into his post-box.{246}
In spite of her practice in the conduct of social functions as Lady Mayoress, and her natural aptitude100 for knowing how to behave suitably, Mrs Keeling had one moment of extremest terror when the Royal Princess came up the steps of the hospital next day, between Keeling and Lord Inverbroom, to where the Lady Mayoress awaited her. Her knees so trembled that though she felt that there would not be the smallest difficulty in sinking down in the curtsey, or indeed in sinking into the earth altogether, she much doubted her power of ever raising herself again, and the gypsophila in the bouquet she was about to present shook so violently that it appeared to be but a gray mist among the daffodils which had been ascertained101 to be the Princess’s favourite flower. She would have liked to run away, but there was nowhere to run to, and indeed the gorgeous heaviness of her satin gown rendered all active locomotion102 impossible. Then Her Royal Highness shook her hand, thanked her for the beautiful flowers and inhaled103 the perfume of the scentless104 daffodils before giving them to her lady-in-waiting to carry, and Mrs Keeling found herself able to say, ‘Your favourite flowers, Your Royal Highness,’ which broke the spell of her terror. Then followed the declaration that the new wing was open and the tour was made through the empty wards20, while Mrs Keeling so swelled105 with pride and anticipation106 that she felt that it was she who had been the yet{247} anonymous benefactor107. Sometimes she talked to the Princess, sometimes only to Lord Inverbroom, or was even so mindful of her proper place as to drop a condescending108 word or two to the bishop109, whose only locus110 standi there, so she considered, was that he would presently be permitted to say grace. Lining111 the big hall and in corridors were the ‘common people’ of Bracebridge, Mrs Fyson and that class of person, and naturally Mrs Keeling swept by them, as she had swept by the footmen on that pleasant domestic evening at Lady Inverbroom’s.
Then came the lunch, in the town-hall near by, at which the bishop did his duty, and the guests theirs. There was a table and a raised dais for the principal of those, and on the floor of the hall a dozen others for the less distinguished. Close by against the wall were sitting those of Keeling’s staff who had been bidden to the ceremony, and he had already satisfied himself that Norah was there. Then at the close of lunch came Lord Inverbroom’s speech, and at the close of that the sentence for which Mrs Keeling had been waiting.
‘Your Royal Highness,’ he said, ‘and ladies and gentlemen, I will now ask you to drink the health of the munificent112 benefactor whose name, by his express desire, has till now remained a secret. I ask you to drink the health of our most honoured Mayor, Mr Thomas Keeling.’
Then followed the usual acclamation, and it{248} was sweet to the donor’s ears. But sweeter than it all to him was the moment when, as the guests sat down again and he rose to reply, he looked across at the table near the wall, and caught Norah’s eye. Just perceptibly she shook her head at him as if to reproach him with his ingeniousness the day before, but all her face was alight. He had never met so radiant an encounter from her....
Mrs Keeling was almost too superb to speak even to Lord Inverbroom in the interval113 after lunch, when presentations were made before the Princess drove to the station again. But she could not continue not to speak to anybody any more because of this great exaltation, and she was full of bright things as she went home with her husband.
‘It really all passed off very tolerably,’ she said; ‘do you not think so, my dear? And was it not gratifying? Just as the dear Princess shook hands with me for the second time before she drove away, holding my hand quite a long time, she said, “And I hear your friends will not call you Mrs Keeling very much longer.” Was not that delicately put? How common Lady Inverbroom looked beside her, but, after all, we can’t all be princesses. I was told by the lady-in-waiting, who was a very civil sort of woman indeed, that Her Royal Highness was going to stay with the poor Inverbrooms next month. I can hardly believe that: I should not think it was at all a likely sort of thing to happen, but I felt I really ought to warn Mrs{249}—I did not quite catch her name—what a very poor sort of dinner her mistress would get, if she fared no better than we did. But we must keep our ears open next month to find out if it really does happen, though I dare say we shall be the first to know, for after to-day Lady Inverbroom could scarcely fail to ask us to dine and sleep again.’
‘I cannot conceive why she should do any such thing,’ remarked Keeling.
‘My dear, you are too modest. You may be sure Lady Inverbroom would be only too glad to get somebody to interest and amuse the Princess, for she has no great fund of wit and ability herself. I saw the Princess laughing three times at something you said to her, and I dare say I missed other occasions. Did you see her pearls? Certainly they were very fine, and I’m sure we can take it for granted they were genuine, but I saw none among them, and I had a good look at them before and behind, that would match my pearl pendant.’
They drove on a little way in silence, for Mrs Keeling’s utterance114 got a little choked up with pride and gratification, like a congested gutter115, and in all her husband’s mental equipment there was nothing that could be responsive to these futilities. They evoked116 nothing whatever in him; he had not the soil from which they sprang, which Mrs Keeling had carted into her own psychical117 garden in such abundance since she had become Lady Mayoress. Besides, for the present there{250} was nothing real to him, not the lunch, not the public recognition, not the impending118 Club election, except that moment when he had fixed119 Norah’s glance, drawn120 it to himself as on an imperishable thread across the crowded rooms, when he rose to reply. He almost wished his wife would go on talking again: her babble46 seemed to build a wall round him, which cutting him off by its inanity121 from other topics that might engage him, left him alone with Norah. Very soon his wish was fully97 gratified.
‘How one frightens oneself for no reason,’ she said. ‘I declare when the Princess came up the steps, I was ready to run away. But it all passed in a moment, and by the time I had said, “Your favourite flowers, ma’am,”—did I tell you I said, “Your favourite flowers, ma’am?” and she gave me such a sweet smile, I felt as if I had known her for years. There are some sorts of people with whom I feel at home at once, and that was how I felt this morning. It must be very pleasant always to go about such people, and I declare I quite envied her lady-in-waiting, though if I was she I should certainly have something done to my teeth. I must run round and see Mamma this afternoon, and I should not wonder if I paid a few calls as well, for I am sure everybody will be pining to know what the Princess said all the time we were having a talk together over our coffee. I must try to recollect122 every word of that, though{251} I am sure I shall find difficulty in doing so, for we chattered123 away as if we had known each other all our lives.’
‘I dare say you will recollect it very well, my dear,’ said he, ‘if you give your mind to it. And if you cannot remember you can make it up.’
‘Well, if that isn’t a rude speech! But perhaps you’re tired, Thomas, with all this grandeur124. For me, I never felt fresher in my life: it comes quite natural to me.’
‘No, I am not the least tired,’ he said. ‘As soon as I have changed my clothes, I shall go down to my office.’
‘Pray leave that for another day. I cannot bear to think of your demeaning yourself with business after what we have been doing: I do not think it is quite respectful to the Princess.’
Suddenly the babble that he had rather welcomed became intolerable. It had cut him off from the world, as if some thick swarm125 of flies had settled outside the window, utterly126 obscuring the outlook. Now, in a moment the window seemed to have been opened, and they swarmed127 in, buzzing about and settling on him.
‘And where should we have been if I hadn’t demeaned myself with business?’ he asked. ‘Didn’t the new wing of the hospital and your pearl pendant, and your chatting like an old friend to a Princess all come out of my demeaning myself?{252}’
Mrs Keeling paid no attention to this: she hardly heard.
‘And if she does come to stay with the Inverbrooms,’ she said, ‘I have no doubt she will express a wish to take lunch with us. We must see about getting a butler, Thomas. Parkinson is a good servant, but I should not like it to be known at court that I only kept a parlour maid.’
The carriage had stopped at the Gothic porch, and Keeling got out.
‘I will promise to let you have twenty butlers on the day she lunches with us,’ he said. ‘Come, get out, Emmeline, and take care how you walk. There’s something gone to your head. It may be champagne128 or it may be the Princess. I suspect it’s the Princess, and you’re intoxicated129. Go indoors, and sleep it off, and let me find you sober at dinner-time. Take my arm.’
‘My dear, what things you say! I am ashamed of you, though I know it’s only your fun. The carriage must wait for me. I shall pay a call or two and then take a drive through the town. I think the citizens would feel it to be my duty to do that.’
Keeling found that Norah had got back to his office when he arrived, and was busy at the typewriting of the letters he had dictated130 to her that morning. She was in the little room opening off his, and the door was shut, but her presence was{253} indicated by the muffled131 clacking of her machine. That sound was infinitely132 more real to him than what he thought of as ‘the flummeries’ of the day, and he was far more interested in how she would take the divulging133 of the donor’s name than how all the rest of the town would take it. The significance which it held for him on account of the honour that would come to him, or on account of this matter of his election to the Club, mattered nothing in comparison to how she took it. He was determined134 to make no allusion135 to it himself, he would leave it to her to state the revision of her views about his support of the hospital.
While he waited for the completion of her work, he occupied himself with businesses that demanded his scrutiny136, but all the while his ear was pricked137 to listen to the sound of her typewriting machine, or rather to listen for the silence of its cessation, for that would mean that Norah would presently come in with the letters for his signature. There was nothing in his work that demanded a close grip of his mind, and beneath the mechanical attention that he gave it, memory like some deep-water undertow was flowing on its own course past the hidden subaqueous landscape. There was a whole stretch of scenery there out of sight of the surface of his life. Till she had come into it, there was no man who possessed less of a secret history: he had his hobby of books as all the world knew, his blameless domestic conduct, his hard{254} Puritan morality and religion, his integrity and success in money-making and keen business faculty138. That was all there was to him. But now he had dived below that, yet without making any break in the surface. All that he had done and been before continued its uninterrupted course; his life beneath the deep waters did not make itself known by as much as a bubble coming to the surface.
Gradually, while still his ear was alert to catch the silence next door which would show that Norah had finished her work, his surface-faculties moved more slowly and drowsily139. The page he was reading, concerning some estimate, lay long unturned before him, and his eye ceased to travel along the lines that no longer conveyed any meaning to him. It was not the ceremony of to-day that occupied him, nor the moment when all Bracebridge knew that it was he who had made this munificent gift. Those things formed but the vaguest of backgrounds, in which too a veiled hatred140 of his wife was mingled141: in front of that grey mist was the sunlit windy down, the skylark, the tufts of blue-bell foliage, and the companionship which gave them all their significance. And how significant, he now asked himself, were these same things to his companion? Did they mean anything to her because of him? True, she had silently and unconsciously taken him into her confidence when they listened together{255} to the sky-lost song, but would not anybody else, her brother for instance, have done just as well? Did her heart want him? He had no answer to that.
And what, if it was possible to introduce the hard angles of practical issues into these suffused142 dimnesses, was to be the end or even the continuation of this critical yet completely uneventful history? All the conduct, the habit, the traditions of his life were in utter discord143 with it. If he looked at it, even as far as it had gone, in the hard dry light which hitherto had guided him in his life, he could hardly think it credible144 that it was the case of Thomas Keeling which was under his scrutiny. But even more unconjecturable was the outcome. He could see no path of any sort ahead. If by some chance momentous145 revelation he knew that she wanted him with that quality of wanting which was his, what would happen? His whole reasonable and upright self revolted from the idea of clandestine146 intrigue147, and with hardly less emphasis did it reject the idea of an honest, open, and deplorable break-up of his well-earned reputation and respectability. He could not really contemplate148 either course, but of the two the first was a shade the farther away from the confines of possibility. And if some similar revelation told him that he was nothing to Norah beyond a kind, just employer with certain tastes and perceptions akin27 to her own? There was no path{256} there either: he could not see how to proceed.... But he experienced no sense of self-censure in having got himself into this impossible place. It had not been his fault: only those who were quite ignorant of the nature of love could blame him for loving. A fish who did not need the air might as well say to a drowning man, ‘It is quite unnecessary to breathe; you have only to make a determined effort, and convince yourself that you needn’t breathe. Look at me: I don’t breathe, and I swim about in the utmost comfort. It is very wrong to breathe!’
Then suddenly all surmise149 and speculation150 was expunged151 from his mind, for no longer the clack of the typewriting machine came from next door. He heard the stir of a chair pushed back, and the rattle152 of a door handle. Norah was coming; who was of greater concern than all his thoughts about her.... And he was going to give her no quarter: she would have to introduce the subject of her feelings with regard to his niggardly153 hospital-subscription herself. He knew something of her pride from the affair of the book-plate, and he longed to see her take that armour154 off.
He looked rather grimly at his watch.
‘You are rather late,’ he said.
Apparently155 the breast-plate was not to be taken off just yet. She answered him as she had not answered him for many weeks.{257}
‘I am afraid I am, sir,’ she said. ‘But you kindly invited me to go to the luncheon156 and the opening of the new wing. I have been working ever since.’
He delighted in her, in the astonishing irony157 of her calling him ‘sir’ again. He had deserved it too, for he had spoken to her with the old office manner.
‘Have you them ready for me now?’ he asked, keeping the farce158 up.
‘Yes, sir. They only want your signature.’
He drew the sheets towards him, and began signing in silence, wondering when she proposed to say how sorry she was for misjudging him about his generosity159. Surely he could not have misinterpreted that radiant glance she gave him when he rose to reply to the toast of his health.
She had gone back for a moment into her room to fetch the pile of directed envelopes which she had forgotten. Most injudiciously he allowed himself a swift glance at her as she re-entered, and saw beyond doubt that the corners of her mouth were twitching160, that her eyes danced with some merriment that she could not completely control. His own face was better in command, and he knew he wore his grimmest aspect as he continued glancing through her typed letters and scrawling161 his name at the foot. As usual, she took each sheet from him, blotted162 it, and put it into its envelope. She always refused to use the little{258} piece of damped sponge for the gumming of the envelopes, but employed the tip of her tongue.
‘Is that all?’ he said, when he had gone through the pile.
‘Yes, sir.’
He rose. Had he been wrong about the glance he had got from her? If so, he might have been wrong in everything that concerned her from the first day of her appearance here.
‘I shall be getting home then,’ he said.
At the door he turned back again. Once more she had beaten him.
‘Look here, Miss Propert,’ he said. ‘There’s enough of this.’
She laughed straight out.
‘Oh, I am so glad you said that,’ she said. ‘I was going to let you turn the door-handle before I spoke84.’
He put down his hat again.
‘Oh, you were, were you?’ he said. ‘Well, what were you going to say when I did turn the door-handle?’
‘I think you are rather brutal,’ she said. ‘You don’t help me out at all.’
‘Not an atom,’ he said.
‘You know quite well. First I was going to apologise for all the thoughts that had ever been in my mind about you and the hospital. I was {259}an utter fool not to have known that you were the most generous——’
He interrupted her.
‘Never mind that.’
‘But I do mind that. It was idiotic163 of me, and it was ungrateful of me. I should have known you better than that.’
She came a step closer.
‘Will you forgive me?’ she said. ‘I adored that moment when your name was announced. I felt so proud of serving you.’
He held out his hand.
‘That is very friendly of you,’ he said. ‘But we are friends, aren’t we?’
And again she looked at him with that brightness and radiance in her face that he had seen once before only.
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1
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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tepid
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| adj.微温的，温热的，不太热心的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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catering
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| n. 给养 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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longings
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| 渴望，盼望( longing的名词复数 ) | |
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formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tabulate
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| v.列表，排成表格式 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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wards
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| 区( ward的名词复数 )； 病房； 受监护的未成年者； 被人照顾或控制的状态 | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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invoked
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| v.援引( invoke的过去式和过去分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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contriving
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的现在分词 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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32
thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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38
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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larks
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| n.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的名词复数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的第三人称单数 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
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42
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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43
bluebells
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| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
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bluebell
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| n.风铃草 | |
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45
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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46
babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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47
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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48
primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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49
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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50
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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51
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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52
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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53
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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54
flute
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| n.长笛；v.吹笛 | |
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55
deriving
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| v.得到( derive的现在分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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56
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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57
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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58
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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59
subscribe
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| vi.(to)订阅，订购；同意；vt.捐助，赞助 | |
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60
subscriber
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| n.用户，订户；（慈善机关等的）定期捐款者；预约者；签署者 | |
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61
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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63
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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64
donor
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| n.捐献者；赠送人；(组织、器官等的)供体 | |
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65
curtailment
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| n.缩减，缩短 | |
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66
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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67
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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68
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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jubilation
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| n.欢庆，喜悦 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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71
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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72
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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73
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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75
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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78
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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80
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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81
carnations
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| n.麝香石竹，康乃馨( carnation的名词复数 ) | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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83
perusal
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| n.细读，熟读；目测 | |
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84
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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85
mitigating
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的现在分词 ) | |
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86
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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87
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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88
feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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90
mitigate
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| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
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91
rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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92
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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93
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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94
quagmire
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| n.沼地 | |
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95
snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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96
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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97
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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98
aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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99
undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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100
aptitude
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| n.(学习方面的)才能，资质，天资 | |
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101
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
locomotion
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| n.运动，移动 | |
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103
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
scentless
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| adj.无气味的，遗臭已消失的 | |
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105
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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106
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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107
benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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108
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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109
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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110
locus
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| n.中心 | |
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111
lining
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| n.衬里，衬料 | |
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112
munificent
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| adj.慷慨的，大方的 | |
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113
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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114
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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115
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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116
evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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117
psychical
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| adj.有关特异功能现象的；有关特异功能官能的；灵魂的；心灵的 | |
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118
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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119
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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120
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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121
inanity
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| n.无意义，无聊 | |
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122
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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123
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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124
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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125
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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126
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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127
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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128
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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129
intoxicated
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| 喝醉的，极其兴奋的 | |
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130
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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131
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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132
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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133
divulging
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| v.吐露，泄露( divulge的现在分词 ) | |
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134
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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135
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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136
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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137
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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138
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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139
drowsily
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| adv.睡地，懒洋洋地，昏昏欲睡地 | |
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140
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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141
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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142
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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143
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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144
credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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145
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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146
clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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147
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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148
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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149
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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150
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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151
expunged
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| v.擦掉( expunge的过去式和过去分词 )；除去；删去；消除 | |
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152
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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153
niggardly
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| adj.吝啬的，很少的 | |
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154
armour
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| （=armor）n.盔甲；装甲部队 | |
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155
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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156
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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157
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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158
farce
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| n.闹剧，笑剧，滑稽戏；胡闹 | |
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159
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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160
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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161
scrawling
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的现在分词 ) | |
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162
blotted
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| 涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 )； （用吸墨纸）吸干 | |
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163
idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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