Most complacently1 did Mrs. Munt rehearse her mission. Her nieces were independent young women, and it was not often that she was able to help them. Emily's daughters had never been quite like other girls. They had been left motherless when Tibby was born, when Helen was five and Margaret herself but thirteen. It was before the passing of the Deceased Wife's Sister Bill, so Mrs. Munt could without impropriety offer to go and keep house at Wickham Place. But her brother-in-law, who was peculiar2 and a German, had referred the question to Margaret, who with the crudity3 of youth had answered, "No, they could manage much better alone." Five years later Mr. Schlegel had died too, and Mrs. Munt had repeated her offer. Margaret, crude no longer, had been grateful and extremely nice, but the substance of her answer had been the same. "I must not interfere4 a third time," thought Mrs. Munt. However, of course she did. She learnt, to her horror, that Margaret, now of age, was taking her money out of the old safe investments and putting it into Foreign Things, which always smash. Silence would have been criminal. Her own fortune was invested in Home Rails, and most ardently5 did she beg her niece to imitate her. "Then we should be together, dear." Margaret, out of politeness, invested a few hundreds in the Nottingham and Derby Railway, and though the Foreign Things did admirably and the Nottingham and Derby declined with the steady dignity of which only Home Rails are capable, Mrs. Munt never ceased to rejoice, and to say, "I did manage that, at all events. When the smash comes poor Margaret will have a nest-egg to fall back upon." This year Helen came of age, and exactly the same thing happened in Helen's case; she also would shift her money out of Consols, but she, too, almost without being pressed, consecrated6 a fraction of it to the Nottingham and Derby Railway. So far so good, but in social matters their aunt had accomplished7 nothing. Sooner or later the girls would enter on the process known as throwing themselves away, and if they had delayed hitherto, it was only that they might throw themselves more vehemently8 in the future. They saw too many people at Wickham Place--unshaven musicians, an actress even, German cousins (one knows what foreigners are), acquaintances picked up at Continental9 hotels (one knows what they are too). It was interesting, and down at Swanage no one appreciated culture more than Mrs. Munt; but it was dangerous, and disaster was bound to come. How right she was, and how lucky to be on the spot when the disaster came!
The train sped northward10, under innumerable tunnels. It was only an hour's journey, but Mrs. Munt had to raise and lower the window again and again. She passed through the South Welwyn Tunnel, saw light for a moment, and entered the North Welwyn Tunnel, of tragic11 fame. She traversed the immense viaduct, whose arches span untroubled meadows and the dreamy flow of Tewin Water. She skirted the parks of politicians. At times the Great North Road accompanied her, more suggestive of infinity12 than any railway, awakening13, after a nap of a hundred years, to such life as is conferred by the stench of motor-cars, and to such culture as is implied by the advertisements of antibilious pills. To history, to tragedy, to the past, to the future, Mrs. Munt remained equally indifferent; hers but to concentrate on the end of her journey, and to rescue poor Helen from this dreadful mess.
The station for Howards End was at Hilton, one of the large villages that are strung so frequently along the North Road, and that owe their size to the traffic of coaching and pre-coaching days. Being near London, it had not shared in the rural decay, and its long High Street had budded out right and left into residential14 estates. For about a mile a series of tiled and slated15 houses passed before Mrs. Munt's inattentive eyes, a series broken at one point by six Danish tumuli that stood shoulder to shoulder along the highroad, tombs of soldiers. Beyond these tumuli habitations thickened, and the train came to a standstill in a tangle16 that was almost a town.
The station, like the scenery, like Helen's letters, struck an indeterminate note. Into which country will it lead, England or Suburbia? It was new, it had island platforms and a subway, and the superficial comfort exacted by business men. But it held hints of local life, personal intercourse17, as even Mrs. Munt was to discover.
"I want a house," she confided18 to the ticket boy. "Its name is Howards Lodge19. Do you know where it is?"
"Mr. Wilcox!" the boy called.
A young man in front of them turned round.
"She's wanting Howards End."
There was nothing for it but to go forward, though Mrs. Munt was too much agitated20 even to stare at the stranger. But remembering that there were two brothers, she had the sense to say to him, "Excuse me asking, but are you the younger Mr. Wilcox or the elder?"
"The younger. Can I do anything for you?"
"Oh, well"--she controlled herself with difficulty. "Really. Are you? I--" She moved away from the ticket boy and lowered her voice. "I am Miss Schlegels aunt. I ought to introduce myself, oughtn't I? My name is Mrs. Munt."
She was conscious that he raised his cap and said quite coolly, "Oh, rather; Miss Schlegel is stopping with us. Did you want to see her?"
"Possibly--"
"I'll call you a cab. No; wait a mo--" He thought. "Our motor's here. I'll run you up in it."
"That is very kind--"
"Not at all, if you'll just wait till they bring out a parcel from the office. This way."
"My niece is not with you by any chance?"
"No; I came over with my father. He has gone on north in your train. You'll see Miss Schlegel at lunch. You're coming up to lunch, I hope?"
"I should like to come UP," said Mrs. Munt, not committing herself to nourishment22 until she had studied Helen's lover a little more. He seemed a gentleman, but had so rattled23 her round that her powers of observation were numbed24. She glanced at him stealthily. To a feminine eye there was nothing amiss in the sharp depressions at the corners of his mouth, nor in the rather box-like construction of his forehead. He was dark, clean-shaven and seemed accustomed to command.
"In front or behind? Which do you prefer? It may be windy in front."
"In front if I may; then we can talk."
"But excuse me one moment--I can't think what they're doing with that parcel." He strode into the booking-office and called with a new voice: "Hi! hi, you there! Are you going to keep me waiting all day? Parcel for Wilcox, Howards End. Just look sharp!" Emerging, he said in quieter tones: "This station's abominably25 organized; if I had my way, the whole lot of 'em should get the sack. May I help you in?"
"This is very good of you," said Mrs. Munt, as she settled herself into a luxurious26 cavern27 of red leather, and suffered her person to be padded with rugs and shawls. She was more civil than she had intended, but really this young man was very kind. Moreover, she was a little afraid of him: his self-possession was extraordinary. "Very good indeed," she repeated, adding: "It is just what I should have wished."
"Very good of you to say so," he replied, with a slight look of surprise, which, like most slight looks, escaped Mrs. Munt's attention. "I was just tooling my father over to catch the down train."
"You see, we heard from Helen this morning."
Young Wilcox was pouring in petrol, starting his engine, and performing other actions with which this story has no concern. The great car began to rock, and the form of Mrs. Munt, trying to explain things, sprang agreeably up and down among the red cushions. "The mater will be very glad to see you," he mumbled28. "Hi! I say. Parcel for Howards End. Bring it out. Hi!"
A bearded porter emerged with the parcel in one hand and an entry book in the other. With the gathering29 whir of the motor these ejaculations mingled30: "Sign, must I? Why the--should I sign after all this bother? Not even got a pencil on you? Remember next time I report you to the station-master. My time's of value, though yours mayn't be. Here"--here being a tip.
"Extremely sorry, Mrs. Munt."
"Not at all, Mr. Wilcox."
"And do you object to going through the village? It is rather a longer spin, but I have one or two commissions."
"I should love going through the village. Naturally I am very anxious to talk things over with you."
As she said this she felt ashamed, for she was disobeying Margaret's instructions. Only disobeying them in the letter, surely. Margaret had only warned her against discussing the incident with outsiders. Surely it was not "uncivilized or wrong" to discuss it with the young man himself, since chance had thrown them together.
A reticent31 fellow, he made no reply. Mounting by her side, he put on gloves and spectacles, and off they drove, the bearded porter--life is a mysterious business--looking after them with admiration32.
The wind was in their faces down the station road, blowing the dust into Mrs. Munt's eyes. But as soon as they turned into the Great North Road she opened fire. "You can well imagine," she said, "that the news was a great shock to us."
"What news?"
"Mr. Wilcox," she said frankly33. "Margaret has told me everything--everything. I have seen Helen's letter."
He could not look her in the face, as his eyes were fixed34 on his work; he was travelling as quickly as he dared down the High Street. But he inclined his head in her direction, and said, "I beg your pardon; I didn't catch."
"About Helen. Helen, of course. Helen is a very exceptional person--I am sure you will let me say this, feeling towards her as you do--indeed, all the Schlegels are exceptional. I come in no spirit of interference, but it was a great shock."
They drew up opposite a draper's. Without replying, he turned round in his seat, and contemplated35 the cloud of dust that they had raised in their passage through the village. It was settling again, but not all into the road from which he had taken it. Some of it had percolated36 through the open windows, some had whitened the roses and gooseberries of the wayside gardens, while a certain proportion had entered the lungs of the villagers. "I wonder when they'll learn wisdom and tar21 the roads," was his comment. Then a man ran out of the draper's with a roll of oilcloth, and off they went again.
"Margaret could not come herself, on account of poor Tibby, so I am here to represent her and to have a good talk."
"I'm sorry to be so dense," said the young man, again drawing up outside a shop. "But I still haven't quite understood."
"Helen, Mr. Wilcox--my niece and you."
He pushed up his goggles37 and gazed at her, absolutely bewildered. Horror smote38 her to the heart, for even she began to suspect that they were at cross-purposes, and that she had commenced her mission by some hideous39 blunder.
"Miss Schlegel and myself." he asked, compressing his lips.
"I trust there has been no misunderstanding," quavered Mrs. Munt. "Her letter certainly read that way."
"What way?"
"That you and she--" She paused, then drooped40 her eyelids41.
"I think I catch your meaning," he said stickily. "What an extraordinary mistake!"
"Then you didn't the least--" she stammered42, getting blood-red in the face, and wishing she had never been born.
"Scarcely, as I am already engaged to another lady." There was a moment's silence, and then he caught his breath and exploded with, "Oh, good God! Don't tell me it's some silliness of Paul's."
"But you are Paul."
"I'm not."
"Then why did you say so at the station?"
"I said nothing of the sort."
"I beg your pardon, you did."
"I beg your pardon, I did not. My name is Charles."
"Younger" may mean son as opposed to father, or second brother as opposed to first. There is much to be said for either view, and later on they said it. But they had other questions before them now.
"Do you mean to tell me that Paul--"
But she did not like his voice. He sounded as if he was talking to a porter, and, certain that he had deceived her at the station, she too grew angry.
"Do you mean to tell me that Paul and your niece--"
Mrs. Munt--such is human nature--determined that she would champion the lovers. She was not going to be bullied43 by a severe young man. "Yes, they care for one another very much indeed," she said. "I dare say they will tell you about it by-and-by. We heard this morning."
And Charles clenched44 his fist and cried, "The idiot, the idiot, the little fool!"
Mrs. Munt tried to divest45 herself of her rugs. "If that is your attitude, Mr. Wilcox, I prefer to walk."
"I beg you will do no such thing. I'll take you up this moment to the house. Let me tell you the thing's impossible, and must be stopped."
Mrs. Munt did not often lose her temper, and when she did it was only to protect those whom she loved. On this occasion she blazed out. "I quite agree, sir. The thing is impossible, and I will come up and stop it. My niece is a very exceptional person, and I am not inclined to sit still while she throws herself away on those who will not appreciate her."
"Considering she has only known your brother since Wednesday, and only met your father and mother at a stray hotel--"
"Could you possibly lower your voice? The shopman will overhear."
"Esprit de classe"--if one may coin the phrase--was strong in Mrs. Munt. She sat quivering while a member of the lower orders deposited a metal funnel47, a saucepan, and a garden squirt beside the roll of oilcloth.
"Right behind?"
"Yes, sir." And the lower orders vanished in a cloud of dust.
"I warn you: Paul hasn't a penny; it's useless."
"No need to warn us, Mr. Wilcox, I assure you. The warning is all the other way. My niece has been very foolish, and I shall give her a good scolding and take her back to London with me."
"He has to make his way out in Nigeria. He couldn't think of marrying for years and when he does it must be a woman who can stand the climate, and is in other ways--Why hasn't he told us? Of course he's ashamed. He knows he's been a fool. And so he has--a damned fool."
She grew furious.
"Whereas Miss Schlegel has lost no time in publishing the news."
"If I were a man, Mr. Wilcox, for that last remark I'd box your ears. You're not fit to clean my niece's boots, to sit in the same room with her, and you dare--you actually dare--I decline to argue with such a person."
"All I know is, she's spread the thing and he hasn't, and my father's away and I--"
"And all that I know is--"
"Might I finish my sentence, please?"
"No."
Charles clenched his teeth and sent the motor swerving48 all over the lane.
She screamed.
So they played the game of Capping Families, a round of which is always played when love would unite two members of our race. But they played it with unusual vigour49, stating in so many words that Schlegels were better than Wilcoxes, Wilcoxes better than Schlegels. They flung decency50 aside. The man was young, the woman deeply stirred; in both a vein51 of coarseness was latent. Their quarrel was no more surprising than are most quarrels--inevitable at the time, incredible afterwards. But it was more than usually futile52. A few minutes, and they were enlightened. The motor drew up at Howards End, and Helen, looking very pale, ran out to meet her aunt.
"Aunt Juley, I have just had a telegram from Margaret; I--I meant to stop your coming. It isn't--it's over."
The climax53 was too much for Mrs. Munt. She burst into tears.
"Aunt Juley dear, don't. Don't let them know I've been so silly. It wasn't anything. Do bear up for my sake."
"Paul," cried Charles Wilcox, pulling his gloves off.
"Don't let them know. They are never to know."
"Oh, my darling Helen--"
"Paul! Paul!"
A very young man came out of the house.
"Paul, is there any truth in this?"
"I didn't--I don't--"
"Yes or no, man; plain question, plain answer. Did or didn't Miss Schlegel--"
"Charles dear," said a voice from the garden. "Charles, dear Charles, one doesn't ask plain questions. There aren't such things."
They were all silent. It was Mrs. Wilcox.
She approached just as Helen's letter had described her, trailing noiselessly over the lawn, and there was actually a wisp of hay in her hands. She seemed to belong not to the young people and their motor, but to the house, and to the tree that overshadowed it. One knew that she worshipped the past, and that the instinctive54 wisdom the past can alone bestow55 had descended56 upon her--that wisdom to which we give the clumsy name of aristocracy. High born she might not be. But assuredly she cared about her ancestors, and let them help her. When she saw Charles angry, Paul frightened, and Mrs. Munt in tears, she heard her ancestors say, "Separate those human beings who will hurt each other most. The rest can wait." So she did not ask questions. Still less did she pretend that nothing had happened, as a competent society hostess would have done. She said, "Miss Schlegel, would you take your aunt up to your room or to my room, whichever you think best. Paul, do find Evie, and tell her lunch for six, but I'm not sure whether we shall all be downstairs for it." And when they had obeyed her, she turned to her elder son, who still stood in the throbbing57 stinking58 car, and smiled at him with tenderness, and without a word, turned away from him towards her flowers.
"Mother," he called, "are you aware that Paul has been playing the fool again?"
"It's all right, dear. They have broken off the engagement."
"Engagement--!"
"They do not love any longer, if you prefer it put that way," said Mrs. Wilcox, stooping down to smell a rose.
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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crudity
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| n.粗糙，生硬；adj.粗略的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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slated
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| 用石板瓦盖( slate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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tar
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| n.柏油，焦油；vt.涂或浇柏油/焦油于 | |
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nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abominably
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| adv. 可恶地，可恨地，恶劣地 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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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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reticent
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| adj.沉默寡言的；言不如意的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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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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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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percolated
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| v.滤( percolate的过去式和过去分词 )；渗透；（思想等）渗透；渗入 | |
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goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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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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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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divest
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| v.脱去，剥除 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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swerving
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的现在分词 ) | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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bestow
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| v.把…赠与，把…授予；花费 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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