diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:55 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:34:55 -0700 |
| commit | 059abfb637a2d854141275a2b328fda3e4ecd8b4 (patch) | |
| tree | b34e2c99a36ab64351b9c695fed9fbcb0852fd5c /old/10658-h | |
Diffstat (limited to 'old/10658-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/10658-h/10658-h.htm | 12895 |
1 files changed, 12895 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/10658-h/10658-h.htm b/old/10658-h/10658-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e22590 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/10658-h/10658-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12895 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + <title>the title</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + body + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + p + {text-align: justify;} + + blockquote + {text-align: justify;} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 + {text-align: center;} + + hr + {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + + html>body hr + {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + + hr.full + {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full + {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + + pre + {font-size: 0.7em; color: #000; background-color: #FFF;} + + .poetry + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 0%; + text-align: left;} + + .footnote + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em;} + + .index + {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; + text-align: center;} + + .figure + {margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; + text-align: center; font-size: 0.8em;} + .figure img + {border: none;} + + span.rightnote + {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 1%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.leftnote + {position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 92%; + font-size: 0.7em; border-bottom: solid 1px;} + + span.linenum + {float:right; + text-align: right; font-size: 0.7em;} + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hilda Lessways, by Arnold Bennett + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hilda Lessways + +Author: Arnold Bennett + +Release Date: January 9, 2004 [EBook #10658] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDA LESSWAYS *** + + + + +Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>HILDA LESSWAYS</h1> + +<h2>BY<br /> ARNOLD BENNETT</h2> + +<h3><i>1911</i></h3> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<h3><a href="#b1">BOOK I</a><br /> +HER START IN LIFE</h3><br /><br /> + +I <a href="#b1c1">AN EVENT IN MR. SKELLORN'S LIFE</a><br /> +II <a href="#b1c2">THE END OF THE SCENE</a><br /> +III <a href="#b1c3">MR. CANNON</a><br /> +IV <a href="#b1c4">DOMESTICITY INVADED</a><br /> +V <a href="#b1c5">MRS. LESSWAYS' SHREWDNESS</a><br /> +VI <a href="#b1c6">VICTOR HUGO AND ISAAC PITMAN</a><br /> +VII <a href="#b1c7">THE EDITORIAL SECRETARY</a><br /> +VIII <a href="#b1c8">JANET ORGREAVE</a><br /> +IX <a href="#b1c9">IN THE STREET</a><br /> +X <a href="#b1c10">MISS GAILEY IN DECLENSION</a><br /> +XI <a href="#b1c11">DISILLUSION</a><br /> +XII <a href="#b1c12">THE TELEGRAM</a><br /> +XIII <a href="#b1c13">HILDA'S WORLD</a><br /> +XIV <a href="#b1c14">TO LONDON</a><br /><br /> + +<h3><a href="#b2">BOOK II</a><br /> +HER RECOVERY</h3><br /><br /> + +I <a href="#b2c1">SIN</a><br /> +II <a href="#b2c2">THE LITTLE ROOM</a><br /> +III <a href="#b2c3">JOURNEY TO BLEAKRIDGE</a><br /> +IV <a href="#b2c4">WITH THE ORGREAVES</a><br /> +V <a href="#b2c5">EDWIN CLAYHANGER</a><br /> +VI <a href="#b2c6">IN THE GARDEN</a><br /> +VII <a href="#b2c7">THE NEXT MEETING</a><br /><br /> + +<h3><a href="#b3">BOOK III</a><br /> +HER BURDEN</h3><br /><br /> + +I <a href="#b3c1">HILDA INDISPENSABLE</a><br /> +II <a href="#b3c2">SARAH'S BENEFACTOR</a><br /> +III <a href="#b3c3">AT BRIGHTON</a><br /> +IV <a href="#b3c4">THE SEA</a><br /><br /> + +<h3><a href="#b4">BOOK IV</a><br /> +HER FALL</h3><br /><br /> + +I <a href="#b4c1">THE GOING CONCERN</a><br /> +II <a href="#b4c2">THE UNKNOWN ADVENTURE</a><br /> +III <a href="#b4c3">FLORRIE AGAIN</a><br /><br /> + +<h3><a href="#b5">BOOK V</a><br /> +HER DELIVERANCE</h3><br /><br /> + +I <a href="#b5c1">LOUISA UNCONTROLLED</a><br /> +II <a href="#b5c2">SOME SECRET HISTORY</a><br /><br /> + +<h3><a href="#b6">BOOK VI</a><br /><br /> +HER PUNISHMENT</h3><br /><br /> + +I <a href="#b6c1">EVENING AT BLEAKRIDGE</a><br /> +II <a href="#b6c2">A RENDEZVOUS</a><br /> +III <a href="#b6c3">AT THE WORKS</a><br /> +IV <a href="#b6c4">THE CALL FROM BRIGHTON</a><br /> +V <a href="#b6c5">THURSDAY AFTERNOON</a><br /> +VI <a href="#b6c6">MISCHANCE</a><br /> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="b1">BOOK I</a><br /> HER START IN LIFE</h1> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c1">CHAPTER I</a><br /> AN EVENT IN MR. SKELLORN'S LIFE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>The Lessways household, consisting of Hilda and her widowed mother, was +temporarily without a servant. Hilda hated domestic work, and because she +hated it she often did it passionately and thoroughly. That afternoon, as +she emerged from the kitchen, her dark, defiant face was full of grim +satisfaction in the fact that she had left a kitchen polished and +irreproachable, a kitchen without the slightest indication that it ever had +been or ever would be used for preparing human nature's daily food; a show +kitchen. Even the apron which she had worn was hung in concealment behind +the scullery door. The lobby clock, which stood over six feet high and had +to be wound up every night by hauling on a rope, was noisily getting ready +to strike two. But for Mrs. Lessways' disorderly and undesired assistance, +Hilda's task might have been finished a quarter of an hour earlier. She +passed quietly up the stairs. When she was near the top, her mother's +voice, at once querulous and amiable, came from the sitting-room:</p> + +<p>"Where are you going to?"</p> + +<p>There was a pause, dramatic for both of them, and in that minute pause +the very life of the house seemed for an instant to be suspended, and then +the waves of the hostile love that united these two women resumed their +beating, and Hilda's lips hardened.</p> + +<p>"Upstairs," she answered callously.</p> + +<p>No reply from the sitting-room!</p> + +<p>At two o'clock on the last Wednesday of every month, old Mr. Skellorn, +employed by Mrs. Lessways to collect her cottage-rents, called with a +statement of account, and cash in a linen bag. He was now due. During his +previous visit Hilda had sought to instil some common sense into her mother +on the subject of repairs, and there had ensued an altercation which had +never been settled.</p> + +<p>"If I stayed down, she wouldn't like it," Hilda complained fiercely +within herself, "and if I keep away she doesn't like that either! That's +mother all over!"</p> + +<p>She went to her bedroom. And into the soft, controlled shutting of the +door she put more exasperated vehemence than would have sufficed to bang it +off its hinges.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>At this date, late October in 1878, Hilda was within a few weeks of +twenty-one. She was a woman, but she could not realize that she was a +woman. She remembered that when she first went to school, at the age of +eight, an assistant teacher aged nineteen had seemed to her to be +unquestionably and absolutely a woman, had seemed to belong definitely to a +previous generation. The years had passed, and Hilda was now older than +that mature woman was then; and yet she could not feel adult, though her +childhood gleamed dimly afar off, and though the intervening expanse of ten +years stretched out like a hundred years, like eternity. She was in +trouble; the trouble grew daily more and more tragic; and the trouble was +that she wanted she knew not what. If her mother had said to her squarely, +"Tell me what it is will make you a bit more contented, and you shall have +it even if it kills me!" Hilda could only have answered with the fervour of +despair, "I don't know! I don't know!"</p> + +<p>Her mother was a creature contented enough. And why not--with a +sufficient income, a comfortable home, and fair health? At the end of a day +devoted partly to sheer vacuous idleness and partly to the monotonous +simple machinery of physical existence--everlasting cookery, everlasting +cleanliness, everlasting stitchery--her mother did not with a yearning sigh +demand, "Must this sort of thing continue for ever, or will a new era +dawn?" Not a bit! Mrs. Lessways went to bed in the placid expectancy of a +very similar day on the morrow, and of an interminable succession of such +days. The which was incomprehensible and offensive to Hilda.</p> + +<p>She was in a prison with her mother, and saw no method of escape, saw +not so much as a locked door, saw nothing but blank walls. Even could she +by a miracle break prison, where should she look for the unknown object of +her desire, and for what should she look? Enigmas! It is true that she +read, occasionally with feverish enjoyment, especially verse. But she did +not and could not read enough. Of the shelf-ful of books which in thirty +years had drifted by one accident or another into the Lessways household, +she had read every volume, except Cruden's Concordance. A heterogeneous and +forlorn assemblage! Lavater's <i>Physiognomy</i>, in a translation and in +full calf! Thomson's <i>Seasons</i>, which had thrilled her by its romantic +beauty! Mrs. Henry Wood's <i>Danesbury House</i>, and one or two novels by +Charlotte M. Yonge and Dinah Maria Craik, which she had gulped eagerly down +for the mere interest of their stories. Disraeli's <i>Ixion</i>, which she +had admired without understanding it. A <i>History of the North American +Indians!</i> These were the more exciting items of the set. The most +exciting of all was a green volume of Tennyson's containing <i>Maud</i>. +She knew <i>Maud</i> by heart. By simple unpleasant obstinacy she had +forced her mother to give her this volume for a birthday present, having +seen a quotation from it in a ladies' magazine. At that date in Turnhill, +as in many other towns of England, the poem had not yet lived down a +reputation for immorality; but fortunately Mrs. Lessways had only the +vaguest notion of its dangerousness, and was indeed a negligent kind of +woman. Dangerous the book was! Once in reciting it aloud in her room, Hilda +had come so near to fainting that she had had to stop and lie down on the +bed, until she could convince herself that she was not the male lover +crying to his beloved. An astounding and fearful experience, and not to be +too lightly renewed! For Hilda, <i>Maud</i> was a source of lovely and +exquisite pain.</p> + +<p>Why had she not used her force of character to obtain more books? One +reason lay in the excessive difficulty to be faced. Birthdays are +infrequent; and besides, the enterprise of purchasing <i>Maud</i> had +proved so complicated and tedious that Mrs. Lessways, with that curious +stiffness which marked her sometimes, had sworn never to attempt to buy +another book. Turnhill, a town of fifteen thousand persons, had no +bookseller; the only bookseller that Mrs. Lessways had ever heard of did +business at Oldcastle. Mrs. Lessways had journeyed twice over the Hillport +ridge to Oldcastle, in the odd quest of a book called <i>Maud</i> by +"Tennyson--the poet laureate"; the book had had to be sent from London; and +on her second excursion to Oldcastle Mrs. Lessways had been caught by the +rain in the middle of Hillport Marsh. No! Hilda could not easily demand the +gift of another book, when all sorts of nice, really useful presents could +be bought in the High Street. Nor was there in Turnhill a Municipal +Library, nor any public lending-library.</p> + +<p>Yet possibly Hilda's terrific egoism might have got fresh books somehow +from somewhere, had she really believed in the virtue of books. Thus far, +however, books had not furnished her with what she wanted, and her faith in +their promise was insecure.</p> + +<p>Books failing, might she not have escaped into some vocation? The sole +vocation conceivable for her was that of teaching, and she knew, without +having tried it, that she abhorred teaching. Further, there was no +economical reason why she should work. In 1878, unless pushed by necessity, +no girl might dream of a vocation: the idea was monstrous; it was almost +unmentionable. Still further, she had no wish to work for work's sake. +Marriage remained. But she felt herself a child, ages short of marriage. +And she never met a man. It was literally a fact that, except Mr. Skellorn, +a few tradesmen, the vicar, the curate, and a sidesman or so, she never +even spoke to a man from one month's end to the next. The Church choir had +its annual dance, to which she was invited; but the perverse creature cared +not for dancing. Her mother did not seek society, did not appear to require +it. Nor did Hilda acutely feel the lack of it. She could not define her +need. All she knew was that youth, moment by moment, was dropping down +inexorably behind her. And, still a child in heart and soul, she saw +herself ageing, and then aged, and then withered. Her twenty-first birthday +was well above the horizon. Soon, soon, she would be 'over twenty-one'! And +she was not yet born! That was it! She was not yet born! If the passionate +strength of desire could have done the miracle time would have stood still +in the heavens while Hilda sought the way of life.</p> + +<p>And withal she was not wholly unhappy. Just as her attitude to her +mother was self-contradictory, so was her attitude towards existence. +Sometimes this profound infelicity of hers changed its hues for an instant, +and lo! it was bliss that she was bathed in. A phenomenon which +disconcerted her! She did not know that she had the most precious of all +faculties, the power to feel intensely.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Mr. Skellorn did not come; he was most definitely late.</p> + +<p>From the window of her bedroom, at the front of the house, Hilda looked +westwards up toward the slopes of Chatterley Wood, where as a child she +used to go with other children to pick the sparse bluebells that thrived on +smoke. The bailiwick of Turnhill lay behind her; and all the murky district +of the Five Towns, of which Turnhill is the northern outpost, lay to the +south. At the foot of Chatterley Wood the canal wound in large curves on +its way towards the undefiled plains of Cheshire and the sea. On the +canal-side, exactly opposite to Hilda's window, was a flour-mill, that +sometimes made nearly as much smoke as the kilns and chimneys closing the +prospect on either hand. From the flour-mill a bricked path, which +separated a considerable row of new cottages from their appurtenant +gardens, led straight into Lessways Street, in front of Mrs. Lessways' +house. By this path Mr. Skellorn should have arrived, for he inhabited the +farthest of the cottages.</p> + +<p>Hilda held Mr. Skellorn in disdain, as she held the row of cottages in +disdain. It seemed to her that Mr. Skellorn and the cottages mysteriously +resembled each other in their primness, their smugness, their detestable +self-complacency. Yet those cottages, perhaps thirty in all, had stood for +a great deal until Hilda, glancing at them, shattered them with her scorn. +The row was called Freehold Villas: a consciously proud name in a district +where much of the land was copyhold and could only change owners subject to +the payment of 'fines' and to the feudal consent of a 'court' presided over +by the agent of a lord of the manor. Most of the dwellings were owned by +their occupiers, who, each an absolute monarch of the soil, niggled in his +sooty garden of an evening amid the flutter of drying shirts and towels. +Freehold Villas symbolized the final triumph of Victorian economics, the +apotheosis of the prudent and industrious artisan. It corresponded with a +Building Society Secretary's dream of paradise. And indeed it was a very +real achievement. Nevertheless Hilda's irrational contempt would not admit +this. She saw in Freehold Villas nothing but narrowness (what long narrow +strips of gardens, and what narrow homes all flattened together!), and +uniformity, and brickiness, and polished brassiness, and righteousness, and +an eternal laundry.</p> + +<p>From the upper floor of her own home she gazed destructively down upon +all that, and into the chill, crimson eye of the descending sun. Her own +home was not ideal, but it was better than all that. It was one of the two +middle houses of a detached terrace of four houses built by her grandfather +Lessways, the teapot manufacturer; it was the chief of the four, obviously +the habitation of the proprietor of the terrace. One of the corner houses +comprised a grocer's shop, and this house had been robbed of its just +proportion of garden so that the seigneurial garden-plot might be +triflingly larger than the others. The terrace was not a terrace of +cottages, but of houses rated at from twenty-six to thirty-six pounds a +year; beyond the means of artisans and petty insurance agents and +rent-collectors. And further, it was well built, generously built; and its +architecture, though debased, showed some faint traces of Georgian amenity. +It was admittedly the best row of houses in that newly settled quarter of +the town. In coming to it out of Freehold Villas Mr. Skellorn obviously +came to something superior, wider, more liberal.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Hilda heard her mother's voice, in a rather startled +conversational tone, and then another woman speaking; then the voices died +away. Mrs. Lessways had evidently opened the back door to somebody, and +taken her at once into the sitting-room. The occurrence was unusual. Hilda +went softly out on to the landing and listened, but she could catch nothing +more than a faint, irregular murmur. Scarcely had she stationed herself on +the landing when her mother burst out of the sitting-room, and called +loudly:</p> + +<p>"Hilda!" And again in an instant, very impatiently and excitedly, long +before Hilda could possibly have appeared in response, had she been in her +bedroom, as her mother supposed her to be: "Hilda!"</p> + +<p>Hilda could see without being seen. Mrs. Lessways' thin, wrinkled face, +bordered by her untidy but still black and glossy hair, was upturned from +below in an expression of tragic fretfulness. It was the uncontrolled face, +shamelessly expressive, of one who thinks himself unwatched. Hilda moved +silently to descend, and then demanded in a low tone whose harsh +self-possession was a reproof to that volatile creature, her mother:</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways gave a surprised "Oh!" and like a flash her features +changed in the attempt to appear calm and collected.</p> + +<p>"I was just coming downstairs," said Hilda. And to herself: "She's +always trying to pretend I'm nobody, but when the least thing happens out +of the way, she runs to me for all the world like a child." And as Mrs. +Lessways offered no reply, but simply stood at the foot of the stairs, she +asked again: "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well," said her mother lamentably. "It's Mr. Skellorn. Here's Mrs. +Grant--"</p> + +<p>"Who's Mrs. Grant?" Hilda inquired, with a touch of scorn, although she +knew perfectly well that Mr. Skellorn had a married daughter of that +name.</p> + +<p>"Hsh! Hsh!" Mrs. Lessways protested, indicating the open door of the +sitting-room. "You know Mrs. Grant! It seems Mr. Skellorn has had a +paralytic stroke. Isn't it terrible?"</p> + +<p>Hilda continued smoothly to descend the stairs, and followed her mother +into the sitting-room.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c2">CHAPTER II</a><br /> THE END OF THE SCENE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>The linen money-bag and the account-book, proper to the last Wednesday +in the month, lay on the green damask cloth of the round table where Hilda +and her mother took their meals. A paralytic stroke had not been drastic +enough to mar Mr. Skellorn's most precious reputation for probity and +reliability. His statement of receipts and expenditure, together with the +corresponding cash, had been due at two o'clock, and despite the paralytic +stroke it was less than a quarter of an hour late. On one side of the bag +and the book were ranged the older women,--Mrs. Lessways, thin and +vivacious, and Mrs. Grant, large and solemn; and on the other side, as it +were in opposition, the young, dark, slim girl with her rather wiry black +hair, and her straight, prominent eyebrows, and her extraordinary +expression of uncompromising aloofness.</p> + +<p>"She's just enjoying it, that's what she's doing!" said Hilda to +herself, of Mrs. Grant.</p> + +<p>And the fact was that Mrs. Grant, quite unconsciously, did appear to be +savouring the catastrophe with pleasure. Although paralytic strokes were +more prevalent at that period than now, they constituted even then a +striking dramatic event. Moreover, they were considered as direct +visitations of God. Also there was something mysteriously and agreeably +impressive in the word 'paralytic,' which people would repeat for the +pleasure of repeating it. Mrs. Grant, over whose mighty breast flowed a +black mantle suited to the occasion, used the word again and again as she +narrated afresh for Hilda the history of the stroke.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "they came and fetched me out of my bed at three +o'clock this morning; and would you believe me, though he couldn't hardly +speak, the money and this here book was all waiting in his desk, and he +would have me come with it! And him sixty-seven! He always was like that. +And I do believe if he'd been paralysed on both sides instead of only all +down his right side, and speechless too, he'd ha' made me understand as I +must come here at two o'clock. If I'm a bit late it's because I was kept at +home with my son Enoch; he's got a whitlow that's worrying the life out of +him, our Enoch has."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways warmly deprecated any apology for inexactitude, and wiped +her sympathetic eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's all over with father," Mrs. Grant resumed. "Doctor hinted to me +quiet-like as he'd never leave his bed again. He's laid himself down for +the rest of his days.... And he'd been warned! He'd had warnings. But +there!..."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grant contemplated with solemn gleeful satisfaction the +overwhelming grandeur of the disaster that had happened to her father. The +active old man, a continual figure of the streets, had been cut off in a +moment from the world and condemned for life to a mattress. She sincerely +imagined herself to be filled with proper grief; but an aesthetic +appreciation of the theatrical effectiveness of the misfortune was +certainly stronger in her than any other feeling. Observing that Mrs. +Lessways wept, she also drew out a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"I'm wishful for you to count the money," said Mrs. Grant. "I wouldn't +like there to be any--"</p> + +<p>"Nay, that I'll not!" protested Mrs. Lessways.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Grant's pressing duties necessitated her immediate departure. Mrs. +Lessways ceremoniously insisted on her leaving by the front door.</p> + +<p>"I don't know where you'll find another rent-collector that's worth his +salt--in this town," observed Mrs. Grant, on the doorstep. "I can't think +<i>what</i> you'll do, Mrs. Lessways!"</p> + +<p>"I shall collect my rents myself," was the answer.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Grant had crossed the road and taken the bricked path leading +to the paralytic's house, Mrs. Lessways slowly shut the door and bolted it, +and then said to Hilda:</p> + +<p>"Well, my girl, I do think you might have tried to show just a little +more feeling!"</p> + +<p>They were close together in the narrow lobby, of which the heavy pulse +was the clock's ticking.</p> + +<p>Hilda replied:</p> + +<p>"You surely aren't serious about collecting those rents yourself, are +you, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Serious? Of course I'm serious!" said Mrs. Lessways.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I collect the rents myself?" asked Mrs. Lessways.</p> + +<p>This half-defiant question was put about two hours later. In the +meantime no remark had been made about the rents. Mother and daughter were +now at tea in the sitting-room. Hilda had passed the greater part of those +two hours upstairs in her bedroom, pondering on her mother's preposterous +notion of collecting the rents herself. Alone, she would invent +conversations with her mother, silencing the foolish woman with +unanswerable sarcastic phrases that utterly destroyed her illogical +arguments. She would repeat these phrases, repeat even entire +conversations, with pleasure; and, dwelling also with pleasure upon her +grievances against her mother, would gradually arrive at a state of +dull-glowing resentment. She could, if she chose, easily free her brain +from the obsession either by reading or by a sharp jerk of volition; but +often she preferred not to do so, saying to herself voluptuously: "No, I +<i>will</i> nurse my grievance; I'll nurse it and nurse it and nurse it! It +is mine, and it is just, and anybody with any sense at all would admit +instantly that I am absolutely right." Thus it was on this afternoon. When +she came to tea her face was formidably expressive, nor would she attempt +to modify the rancour of those uncompromising features. On the contrary, as +soon as she saw that her mother had noticed her condition, she deliberately +intensified it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways, who was incapable of sustained thought, and who had +completely forgotten and recalled the subject of the cottage-rents several +times since the departure of Mrs. Grant, nevertheless at once diagnosed the +cause of the trouble; and with her usual precipitancy began to repulse an +attack which had not even been opened. Mrs. Lessways was not good at +strategy, especially in conflicts with her daughter. She was an ingenuous, +hasty thing, and much too candidly human. And not only was she deficient in +practical common sense and most absurdly unable to learn from experience, +but she had not even the wit to cover her shortcomings by resorting to the +traditional authoritativeness of the mother. Her brief, rare efforts to +play the mother were ludicrous. She was too simply honest to acquire +stature by standing on her maternal dignity. By a profound instinct she +wistfully treated everybody as an equal, as a fellow-creature; even her own +daughter. It was not the way to come with credit out of the threatened +altercation about rent-collecting.</p> + +<p>As Hilda offered no reply, Mrs. Lessways said reproachfully:</p> + +<p>"Hilda, you're too bad sometimes!" And then, after a further silence: +"Anyhow, I'm quite decided."</p> + +<p>"Then what's the good of talking about it?" said the merciless +child.</p> + +<p>"But <i>why</i> shouldn't I collect the rents myself? I'm not asking you +to collect them. And I shall save the five per cent., and goodness knows we +need it."</p> + +<p>"You're more likely to lose twenty-five per cent.," said Hilda. "I'll +have some more tea, please."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways was quite genuinely scandalized. "You needn't think I +shall be easy with those Calder Street tenants, because I shan't! Not me! +I'm more likely to be too hard!"</p> + +<p>"You'll be too hard, and you'll be too easy, too," said Hilda savagely. +"You'll lose the good tenants and you'll keep the bad ones, and the houses +will all go to rack and ruin, and then you'll sell all the property at a +loss. That's how it will be. And what shall you do if you're not feeling +well, and if it rains on Monday mornings?"</p> + +<p>Hilda could conceive her mother forgetting all about the rents on Monday +morning, or putting them off till Monday afternoon on some grotesque +excuse. Her fancy heard the interminable complainings, devisings, futile +resolvings, of the self-appointed collector. It was impossible to imagine a +woman less fitted by nature than her mother to collect rents from unthrifty +artisans such as inhabited Calder Street. The project sickened her. It +would render the domestic existence an inferno.</p> + +<p>As for Mrs. Lessways, she was shocked, for her project had seemed very +beautiful to her, and for the moment she was perfectly convinced that she +could collect rents and manage property as well as anyone. She was +convinced that her habits were regular, her temper firm and tactful, and +her judgment excellent. She was more than shocked; she was wounded. She +wept, as she pushed forward Hilda's replenished cup.</p> + +<p>"You ought to take shame!" she murmured weakly, yet with certitude.</p> + +<p>"Why?" said Hilda, feigning simplicity. "What have I said? <i>I</i> +didn't begin. You asked me. I can't help what I think."</p> + +<p>"It's your tone," said Mrs. Lessways grievously.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Despite all Hilda's terrible wisdom and sagacity, this remark of the +foolish mother's was the truest word spoken in the discussion. It was +Hilda's tone that was at the root of the evil. If Hilda, with the +intelligence as to which she was secretly so complacent, did not amicably +rule her mother, the unavoidable inference was that she was either a clumsy +or a wicked girl, or both. She indeed felt dimly that she was a little of +both. But she did not mind. Sitting there in the small, familiar room, +close to the sewing-machine, the steel fender, the tarnished chandelier, +and all the other daily objects which she at once detested and loved, +sitting close to her silly mother who angered her, and yet in whom she +recognized a quality that was mysteriously precious and admirable, staring +through the small window at the brown, tattered garden-plot where blackened +rhododendrons were swaying in the October blast, she wilfully bathed +herself in grim gloom and in an affectation of despair.</p> + +<p>Somehow she enjoyed the experience. She had only to tighten her +lips--and she became oblivious of her clumsiness and her cruelty, savouring +with pleasure the pain of the situation, clasping it to her! Now and then a +thought of Mr. Skellorn's tragedy shot through her brain, and the +tenderness of pity welled up from somewhere within her and mingled +exquisitely with her dark melancholy. And she found delight in reading her +poor mother like an open book, as she supposed. And all the while her +mother was dreaming upon the first year of Hilda's life, before she had +discovered that her husband's health was as unstable as his character, and +comparing the reality of the present with her early illusions. But the +clever girl was not clever enough to read just that page.</p> + +<p>"We ought to be everything to each other," said Mrs. Lessways, pursuing +her reflections aloud.</p> + +<p>Hilda hated sentimentalism. She could not stand such talk.</p> + +<p>"And you know," said Hilda, speaking very frigidly and with even more +than her usual incisive clearness of articulation, "it's not your property. +It's only yours for life. It's my property."</p> + +<p>The mother's mood changed in a moment.</p> + +<p>"How do you know? You've never seen your father's will." She spoke in +harsh challenge.</p> + +<p>"No; because you've never let me see it."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have more confidence in your mother. Your father had. And +I'm trustee and executor." Mrs. Lessways was exceedingly jealous of her +legal position, whose importance she never forgot nor would consent to +minimize.</p> + +<p>"That's all very well, for you," said Hilda; "but if the property isn't +managed right, I may find myself slaving when I'm your age, mother. And +whose fault will it be?... However, I shall--"</p> + +<p>"You will what?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"I suppose her ladyship will be consulting her own lawyer next!" said +Mrs. Lessways bitterly.</p> + +<p>They looked at each other. Hilda's face flushed to a sombre red. Mrs. +Lessways brusquely left the room. Then Hilda could hear her rattling +fussily at the kitchen range. After a few minutes Hilda followed her to the +kitchen, which was now nearly in darkness. The figure of Mrs. Lessways, +still doing nothing whatever with great vigour at the range, was dimly +visible. Hilda approached her, and awkwardly touched her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Mother!" she demanded sharply; and she was astonished by her +awkwardness and her sharpness.</p> + +<p>"Is that you?" her mother asked, in a queer, foolish tone.</p> + +<p>They kissed. Such a candid peacemaking had never occurred between them +before. Mrs. Lessways, as simple in forgiveness as in wrath, did not +disguise her pleasure in the remarkable fact that it was Hilda who had made +the overture. Hilda thought: "How strange I am! What is coming over me?" +She glanced at the range, in which was a pale gleam of red, and that gleam, +in the heavy twilight, seemed to her to be inexpressibly, enchantingly +mournful. And she herself was mournful about the future--very mournful. She +saw no hope. Yet her sadness was beautiful to her. And she was proud.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c3">CHAPTER III</a><br/> MR. CANNON</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>A little later Hilda came downstairs dressed to go out. Her mother was +lighting a glimmer of gas in the lobby. Ere Mrs. Lessways could descend +from her tiptoes to her heels and turn round Hilda said quickly, +forestalling curiosity:</p> + +<p>"I'm going to get that thread you want. Just give me some money, will +you?"</p> + +<p>Nobody could have guessed from her placid tone and indifferent demeanour +that she was in a state of extreme agitation. But so it was. Suddenly, +after kissing her mother in the kitchen, she had formed a tremendous +resolve. And in a moment the resolve had possessed her, sending her flying +upstairs, and burning her into a fever, as with the assured movements of +familiarity she put on her bonnet, mantle, 'fall,' and gloves in the +darkness of the chamber. She held herself in leash while her mother lifted +a skirt and found a large loaded pocket within and a purse in the pocket +and a sixpence in the purse. But when she had shut the door on all that +interior haunted by her mother's restlessness, when she was safe in the +porch and in the windy obscurity of the street, she yielded with voluptuous +apprehension to a thrill that shook her.</p> + +<p>"I might have tidied my hair," she thought. "Pooh! What does my hair +matter?"</p> + +<p>Her mind was full of an adventure through which she had passed seven +years previously, when she was thirteen and a little girl at school. For +several days, then, she had been ruthlessly mortifying her mother by +complaints about the meals. Her fastidious appetite could not be suited. At +last, one noon when the child had refused the whole of a plenteous dinner, +Mrs. Lessways had burst into tears and, slapping four pennies down on the +table, had cried, "Here! I fairly give you up! Go out and buy your own +dinner! Then perhaps you'll get what you want!" And the child, without an +instant's hesitation, had seized the coins and gone out, hatless, and +bought food at a little tripe-shop that was also an eating-house, and +consumed it there; and then in grim silence returned home. Both mother and +daughter had been stupefied and frightened by the boldness of the +daughter's initiative, by her amazing, flaunting disregard of filial +decency. Mrs. Lessways would not have related the episode to anybody upon +any consideration whatever. It was a shameful secret, never even referred +to. But Mrs. Lessways had unmistakably though indirectly referred to it +when in anger she had said to her daughter aged twenty: "I suppose her +ladyship will be consulting her own lawyer next!" Hilda had understood, and +that was why she had blushed.</p> + +<p>And now, as she turned from Lessways Street into the Oldcastle Road, on +her way to the centre of the town, she experienced almost exactly the +intense excitement of the reckless and supercilious child in quest of its +dinner. The only difference was that the recent reconciliation had inspired +her with a certain negligent compassion for her mother, with a curious +tenderness that caused her to wonder at herself.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The Market Square of Turnhill was very large for the size of the town. +The diminutive town hall, which in reality was nothing but a watch-house, +seemed to be a mere incident on its irregular expanse, to which the +two-storey shops and dwellings made a low border. Behind this crimson, +blue-slated border rose the loftier forms of a church and a large chapel, +situate in adjacent streets. The square was calm and almost deserted in the +gloom. It typified the slow tranquillity of the bailiwick, which was +removed from the central life of the Five Towns, and unconnected therewith +by even a tram or an omnibus. Only within recent years had Turnhill got so +much as a railway station--rail-head of a branch line. Turnhill was the +extremity of civilization in those parts. Go northwards out of this Market +Square, and you would soon find yourself amid the wild and hilly moorlands, +sprinkled with iron-and-coal villages whose red-flaming furnaces +illustrated the eternal damnation which was the chief article of their +devout religious belief. And in the Market Square not even the late edition +of the <i>Staffordshire Signal</i> was cried, though it was discreetly on +sale with its excellent sporting news in a few shops. In the hot and +malodorous candle-lit factories, where the real strenuous life of the town +would remain cooped up for another half-hour of the evening, men and women +had yet scarcely taken to horse-racing; they would gamble upon rabbits, +cocks, pigeons, and their own fists, without the mediation of the +<i>Signal</i>. The one noise in the Market Square was the bell of a hawker +selling warm pikelets at a penny each for the high tea of the tradesmen. +The hawker was a deathless institution, a living proof that withdrawn +Turnhill would continue always to be exactly what it always had been. +Still, to the east of the Square, across the High Street, a vast space was +being cleared of hovels for the erection of a new town hall daringly +magnificent.</p> + +<p>Hilda crossed the Square, scorning it.</p> + +<p>She said to herself: "I'd better get the thing over before I buy the +thread. I should never be able to stand Miss Dayson's finicking! I should +scream out!" But the next instant, with her passion for proving to herself +how strong she could be, she added: "Well, I just <i>will</i> buy the +thread first!" And she went straight into Dayson's little fancy shop, which +was full of counter and cardboard boxes and Miss Dayson, and stayed therein +for at least five minutes, emerging with a miraculously achieved +leisureliness. A few doors away was a somewhat new building, of three +storeys--the highest in the Square. The ground floor was an ironmongery; it +comprised also a side entrance, of which the door was always open. This +side entrance showed a brass-plate, "Q. Karkeek, Solicitor." And the +wire-blinds of the two windows of the first floor also bore the words: "Q. +Karkeek, Solicitor. Q. Karkeek, Solicitor." The queerness of the name had +attracted Hilda's attention several years earlier, when the signs were +fresh. It was an accident that she had noticed it; she had not noticed the +door-plates or the wire-blinds of other solicitors. She did not know Mr. Q. +Karkeek by sight, nor even whether he was old or young, married or single, +agreeable or repulsive.</p> + +<p>The side entrance gave directly on to a long flight of naked stairs, and +up these stairs Hilda climbed into the unknown, towards the redoubtable and +the perilous. "I'm bound to be seen," she said to herself, "but I don't +care, and I <i>don't</i> care!" At the top of the stairs was a passage, at +right angles, and then a glazed door with the legend in black letters, "Q. +Karkeek, Solicitor," and two other doors mysteriously labelled "Private." +She opened the glazed door, and saw a dirty middle-aged man on a stool, and +she said at once to him, in a harsh, clear, deliberate voice, without +giving herself time to reflect:</p> + +<p>"I want to see Mr. Karkeek."</p> + +<p>The man stared at her sourly, as if bewildered.</p> + +<p>She said to herself: "I shan't be able to stand this excitement much +longer."</p> + +<p>"You can't see Mr. Karkeek," said the man. "Mr. Karkeek's detained at +Hanbridge County Court. But if you're in such a hurry like, you'd better +see Mr. Cannon. It's Mr. Cannon as they generally do see. Who d'ye come +from, miss?"</p> + +<p>"Come from?" Hilda repeated, unnerved.</p> + +<p>"What name?"</p> + +<p>She had not expected this. "I suppose I shall have to tell him!" she +said to herself, and aloud: "Lessways."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Ah!" exclaimed the man. "Bless us! Yes!" It was as if he had said: +"Of course it's Lessways! And don't I know all about <i>you!</i>" And Hilda +was overwhelmed by the sense of the enormity of the folly which she was +committing.</p> + +<p>The man swung half round on his stool, and seized the end of an +india-rubber tube which hung at the side of the battered and littered desk, +just under a gas-jet. He spoke low, like a conspirator, into the mouthpiece +of the tube. "Miss Lessways--to see you, sir." Then very quickly he clapped +the tube to his ear and listened. And then he put it to his mouth again and +repeated: "Lessways." Hilda was agonized.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask ye to step this way, miss," said the man, slipping off his +stool. At the same time he put a long inky penholder, which he had been +holding in his wrinkled right hand, between his teeth.</p> + +<p>"Never," thought Hilda as she followed the clerk, in a whirl of horrible +misgivings, "never have I done anything as mad as this before! I'm under +twenty-one!"</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>There she was at last, seated in front of a lawyer in a lawyer's +office--her ladyship consulting her own lawyer! It seemed incredible! A few +minutes ago she had been at home, and now she was in a world unfamiliar and +alarming. Perhaps it was a pity that her mother had unsuspectingly put the +scheme into her head!</p> + +<p>However, the deed was done. Hilda generally acted first and reflected +afterwards. She was frightened, but rather by the unknown than by anything +she could define.</p> + +<p>"You've come about the property?" said Mr. Cannon amiably, in a +matter-of-fact tone.</p> + +<p>He had deep black eyes, and black hair, like Hilda's; good, regular +teeth, and a clear complexion; perhaps his nose was rather large, but it +was straight. With his large pale hands he occasionally stroked his long +soft moustache; the chin was blue. He was smartly dressed in dark blue; he +had a beautiful neck-tie, and the genuine whiteness of his wristbands was +remarkable in a district where starched linen was usually either grey or +bluish. He was not a dandy, but he respected his person; he evidently gave +careful attention to his body; and this trait alone set him apart among the +citizens of Turnhill.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hilda. She thought: "He's a very handsome man! How strange I +don't remember seeing him in the streets!" She was in awe of him. He was +indefinitely older than herself; and she felt like a child, out of place in +the easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's about the rent-collecting?" he pursued.</p> + +<p>"Yes--it is," she answered, astonished that he could thus divine her +purpose. "I mean--"</p> + +<p>"What does your mother want to do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Hilda, speaking low. "It's not mother. I've come to consult +you myself. Mother doesn't know. I'm nearly twenty-one, and it's really my +property, you know!" She blushed with shame.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he exclaimed. He tried to disguise his astonishment in an easy, +friendly smile. But he was most obviously startled. He looked at Hilda in a +different way, with a much intensified curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she resumed. He now seemed to her more like a fellow-creature, +and less like a member of the inimical older generation.</p> + +<p>"So you're nearly twenty-one?"</p> + +<p>"In December," she said. "And I think under my father's will--" She +stopped, at a loss. "The fact is, I don't think mother will be quite able +to look after the property properly, and I'm afraid--you see, now that Mr. +Skellorn has had this stroke--"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mr. Cannon, "I heard about that, and I was thinking perhaps +Mrs. Lessways had sent you.... We collect rents, you know."</p> + +<p>"I see!" Hilda murmured. "Well, the truth is, mother hasn't the +slightest idea I'm here. Not the slightest! And I wouldn't hurt her +feelings for anything." He nodded sympathetically. "But I thought something +ought to be done. She's decided to collect our Calder Street rents herself, +and she isn't fitted to do it. And then there's the question of the +repairs.... I know the rents are going down. I expect it's all mother's for +life, but I want there to be something left for me when she's gone, you +see! And if--I've never seen the will. I suppose there's no way of seeing a +copy of it, somewhere?... I can't very well ask mother again."</p> + +<p>"I know all about the will," said Mr. Cannon.</p> + +<p>"You do?"</p> + +<p>Wondrous, magical man!</p> + +<p>"Yes," he explained. "I used to be at Toms and Scoles's. I was there +when it was made. I copied it."</p> + +<p>"Really!" She felt that he would save her, not only from any possible +unpleasant consequences of her escapade, but also from suffering ultimate +loss by reason of her mother's foolishness.</p> + +<p>"You're quite right," he continued. "I remember it perfectly. Your +mother is what we call tenant-for-life; everything goes to you in the +end."</p> + +<p>"Well," Hilda asked abruptly. "All I want to know is, what I can +do."</p> + +<p>"Of course, without upsetting your mother?"</p> + +<p>He glanced at her. She blushed again.</p> + +<p>"Naturally," she said coldly.</p> + +<p>"You say you think the property is going down--it <i>is</i>, everybody +knows that--and your mother thinks of collecting the rents herself.... +Well, young lady, it's very difficult, very difficult, your mother being +the trustee and executor."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what she's always saying--she's the trustee and +executor."</p> + +<p>"You'd better let me think it over for a day or two."</p> + +<p>"And shall I call in again?"</p> + +<p>"You might slip in if you're passing. I'll see what can be done. Of +course it would never do for you to have any difficulty with your +mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" she concurred vehemently. "Anything would be better than that. +But I thought there was no harm in me--"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>She had a profound confidence in him. And she was very content so far +with the result of her adventure.</p> + +<p>"I hope nobody will find out I've been here," she said timidly. "Because +if it <i>did</i> get to mother's ears--"</p> + +<p>"Nobody will find out," he reassured her.</p> + +<p>Assuredly his influence was tranquillizing. Even while he insisted on +the difficulties of the situation, he seemed to be smoothing them away. She +was convinced that he would devise some means of changing her mother's +absurd purpose and of strengthening her own position. But when, at the end +of the interview, he came round the large table which separated them, and +she rose and looked up at him, close, she was suddenly very afraid of him. +He was a tall and muscular man, and he stood like a monarch, and she stood +like a child. And his gesture seemed to say: "Yes, I know you are afraid. +And I rather like you to be afraid. But I am benevolent in the exercise of +my power." Under his gaze, her gaze fastened on the wire-blind and the dark +window, and she read off the reversed letters on the blind.</p> + +<p>Like a mouse she escaped to the stairs. She was happy and fearful and +expectant.... It was done! She had consulted a lawyer! She was astounded at +herself.</p> + +<p>In the Market Square it was now black night. She looked shyly up at the +lighted wire-blinds over the ironmongery. "I was there!" she said. "He is +still there." The whole town, the whole future, seemed to be drenched now +in romance. Nevertheless, the causes of her immense discontent had not +apparently been removed nor in any way modified.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c4">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> DOMESTICITY INVADED</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Early in the afternoon, two days later, Hilda came, with an air of +reproach, into her mother's empty bedroom. Mrs. Lessways had contracted a +severe cold in the head, a malady to which she was subject and which she +accepted with fatalistic submission, even pleasurably giving herself up to +it, as a martyr to the rack. Mrs. Lessways' colds annoyed Hilda, who out of +her wisdom could always point to the precise indiscretion which had caused +them, and to whom the spectacle of a head wrapped day and night in flannel +was offensively ridiculous. Moreover, Hilda in these crises was further and +still more acutely exasperated by the pillage of her handkerchiefs. +Although she possessed a supply of handkerchiefs far beyond her own needs, +she really hated to lend to her mother in the hour of necessity. She did +lend, and she lent without spoken protest, but with frigid bitterness. Her +youthful passion for order and efficiency was aggrieved by her mother's +negligent and inadequate arrangements for coping with the inevitable +plague. She now made a police-visit to the bedroom because she considered +that her mother had been demanding handkerchiefs at a stage too early in +the progress of the disease. Impossible that her mother should have come to +the end of her own handkerchiefs! She knew with all the certitude of her +omniscience that numerous clean handkerchiefs must be concealed somewhere +in the untidiness of her mother's wardrobe.</p> + +<p>See her as she enters the bedroom, the principal bedroom of the house, +whose wide bed and large wardrobe recall the past when she had a father as +well as a mother, and when that bedroom awed her footsteps! A thin, +brown-frocked girl, wearing a detested but enforced small black apron; with +fine, pale, determined features, rather unfeminine hair, and glowering, +challenging black eyes. She had a very decided way of putting down her +uncoquettishly shod feet. Absurdly young, of course; wistfully young! She +was undeveloped, and did not even look nearly twenty-one. You are at +liberty to smile at her airs; at that careless critical glance which +pityingly said: "Ah! if this were my room, it would be different from what +it is;" at that serious worried expression, as if the anxiety of the whole +world's deficiencies oppressed the heart within; and at that supreme +conviction of wisdom, which after all was little but an exaggerated +perception of folly and inconsistency in others!... She is not to be +comprehended on an acquaintance of three days. Years must go to the +understanding of her. She did not understand herself. She was not even +acquainted with herself. Why! She was naïve enough to be puzzled +because she felt older than her mother and younger than her beautiful +girlish complexion, simultaneously!</p> + +<p>She opened the central mirrored door of the once formidable wardrobe, +and as she did so the image of the bed and of half the room shot across the +swinging glass, taking the place of her own reflection. And instantly, when +she inserted herself between the exposed face of the wardrobe and its door, +she was precipitated into the most secret intimacy of her mother's +existence. There was the familiar odour of old kid gloves.... She was more +intimate with her mother now than she could ever be in talking to her. The +lower part of this section of the wardrobe consisted of three deep drawers +with inset brass handles, an exquisitely exact piece of mahogany +cabinetwork. From one of the drawers a bit of white linen untidily +protruded. Her mother! The upper part was filled with sliding trays, each +having a raised edge to keep the contents from falling out. These trays +were heaped pell-mell with her mother's personal belongings--small +garments, odd indeterminate trifles, a muff, a bundle of whalebone, veils, +bags, and especially cardboard boxes. Quantities of various cardboard +boxes! Her mother kept everything, could not bear that anything which had +once been useful should be abandoned or destroyed; whereas Hilda's +propensity was to throw away with an impatient gesture whatever threatened +to be an encumbrance. Sighing, she began to arrange the contents of the +trays in some kind of method. Incompetent and careless mother! Hilda +wondered how the old thing managed to conduct her life from day to day with +even a semblance of the decency of order. It did not occur to her that for +twenty-five years before she was born, and for a long time afterwards, Mrs. +Lessways had contrived to struggle along through the world, without her +daughter's aid, to the general satisfaction of herself and some others. At +length, ferreting on the highest shelf but one, she had the deep, proud +satisfaction of the philosopher who has correctly deduced consequences from +character. Underneath a Paisley shawl she discovered a lost treasure of +clean handkerchiefs. One, two, three, four--there were eleven! And among +them was one of her own, appropriated by her mother through sheer +inexcusable inadvertence. They had probably been lying under the shawl for +weeks, months!</p> + +<p>Still, she did not allow herself to be vexed. Since the singular +hysterical embrace in the twilight of the kitchen, she had felt for her +mother a curious, kind, forbearing, fatalistic indulgence. "Mother is like +that, and there you are!" And further, her mood had been so changed and +uplifted by excitement and expectation that she could not be genuinely +harsh. She had been thrilled by the audacity of the visit to Mr. Cannon. +And though she hoped from it little but a negative advantage, she was +experiencing the rare happiness of adventure. She had slipped out for a +moment from the confined and stifling circle of domestic dailiness. She had +scented the feverish perfume of the world. And she owed all this to herself +alone! She meant on the morrow, while her mother was marketing, to pursue +the enterprise; the consciousness of this intention was sweet, but she knew +not why it was sweet. She only knew that she lived in the preoccupation of +a dream.</p> + +<p>Having taken two of the handkerchiefs, she shut the wardrobe and turned +the key. She went first to her own small, prim room to restore stolen +property to its rightful place, and then she descended towards the kitchen +with the other handkerchief. Giving it to her mother, and concealing her +triumph beneath a mask of wise, long-suffering benevolence, she would say: +"I've found ten of your handkerchiefs, mother. Here's one!" And her mother, +ingenuously startled and pleased, would exclaim: "Where, child?" And she, +still controlling herself, as befitted a superior being, would reply +casually: "In your wardrobe, of course! You stuck to it there weren't any; +but I was sure there were."</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The dialogue which actually did accompany the presentation of the +handkerchief, though roughly corresponding to her rehearsal of it, was +lacking in the dramatic pungency necessary for a really effective triumph; +the reason being that the thoughts of both mother and daughter were +diverted in different ways from the handkerchief by the presence of Florrie +in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>Florrie was the new servant, and she had come into the house that +morning. Sponsored by an aunt who was one of the best of the Calder Street +tenants, Florrie had been accepted rather unwillingly, the objection to her +being that she was too young--thirteen and a half. Mrs. Lessways had a +vague humanitarian sentiment against the employment of children; as for +Hilda's feeling, it was at one moment more compassionate even than her +mother's, and at another almost cynically indifferent. The aunt, however, a +person of powerful common sense, had persuaded Mrs. Lessways that the +truest kindness would be to give Florrie a trial. Florrie was very strong, +and she had been brought up to work hard, and she enjoyed working hard. +"Don't you, Florrie?" "Yes, aunt," with a delightful smiling, whispering +timidity. She was the eldest of a family of ten, and had always assisted +her mother in the management of a half-crown house and the nurture of a +regiment of infants. But at thirteen and a half a girl ought to be earning +money for her parents. Bless you! She knew what a pawnshop was, her father +being often out of a job owing to potter's asthma; and she had some +knowledge of cookery, and was in particular very good at boiling potatoes. +To take her would be a real kindness on the part of Mrs. Lessways, for the +'place' was not merely an easy place, it was a 'good' place. Supposing that +Mrs. Lessways refused to have her,--well, Florrie might go on to a +'potbank' and come to harm, or she might engage herself with tradespeople, +where notoriously the work was never finished, or she might even be forced +into a public-house. Her aunt knew that they wanted a servant at the "Queen +Adelaide," where the wages would be pretty high. But no! No niece of hers +should ever go into service at a public-house if she could help it! What +with hot rum and coffee to be ready for customers at half-past five of a +morning, and cleaning up at nights after closing, a poor girl would never +see her bed! Whereas at Mrs. Lessways'...! So Mrs. Lessways took Florrie in +order to save her from slavery.</p> + +<p>The slim child was pretty, with graceful and eager movements, and +certainly a rapid comprehension. Her grey eyes sparkled, and her brown hair +was coquettishly tied up, rather in the manner of a horse's tail on May +Day. She had arrived all by herself in the morning, with a tiny bundle, and +she made a remarkably neat appearance--if you did not look at her boots, +which had evidently been somebody else's a long time before. Hilda had been +clearly aware of a feeling of pleasure at the prospect of this young girl's +presence in the house.</p> + +<p>Hilda now saw her in another aspect. She wore a large foul apron of +sacking, which made her elegant body quite shapeless, and she was kneeling +on the red-and-black tiled floor of the kitchen, with her enormous cracked +boots sticking out behind her. At one side of her was a pail full of +steaming brown water, and in her red coarse little hands, which did not +seem to belong to those gracile arms, she held a dripping clout. In front +of her, on a half-dried space of clean, shining floor, stood Mrs. Lessways, +her head wrapped in a flannel petticoat. Nearer to the child stretched a +small semi-circle of liquid mud; to the rear was the untouched dirty floor. +Florrie was looking up at her mistress with respectful, strained attention. +She could not proceed with her work because Mrs. Lessways had chosen this +moment to instruct her, with much snuffling, in the duties and +responsibilities of her position.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mum," Florrie whispered. She seemed to be incapable of speaking +beyond a whisper. But the whisper was delicate and agreeable; and perhaps +it was a mysterious sign of her alleged unusual physical strength.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to be down at half-past six. Then you'll light your kitchen +fire, but of course you'll get your coal up first. And then you'll do your +boots. Now the bacon--but never mind that--either Miss Hilda or me will be +down to-morrow morning to show you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mum," Florrie's whisper was grateful.</p> + +<p>"When you've got things going a bit like, you'll do your parlour--I've +told you all about that, though. But I didn't tell you--except on +Wednesdays. On Wednesdays you give your parlour a thorough turn-out +<i>after</i> breakfast, and mind it's got to be all straight for dinner at +half-past twelve."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mum."</p> + +<p>"I shall show you about your fire-irons--" Mrs. Lessways was continuing +to make everything in the house the private property of Florrie, when Hilda +interrupted her about the handkerchief, and afterwards with an exhortation +to beware of the dampness of the floor, which exhortation Mrs. Lessways +faintly resented; whereupon Hilda left the kitchen; it was always imprudent +to come between Mrs. Lessways and a new servant.</p> + +<p>Hilda remained listening in the lobby to the interminable and rambling +instruction. At length Mrs. Lessways said benevolently:</p> + +<p>"There's no reason why you shouldn't go to bed at half-past eight, or +nine at the latest. No reason whatever. And if you're quick and handy --and +I'm sure you are--you'll have plenty of time in the afternoon for plain +sewing and darning. I shall see how you can darn," Mrs. Lessways added +encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mum."</p> + +<p>Hilda's heart revolted, less against her mother's defects as an +organizer than against the odious mess of the whole business of +domesticity. She knew that, with her mother in the house, Florrie would +never get to bed at half-past eight and very seldom at nine, and that she +would never be free in the afternoons. She knew that if her mother would +only consent to sit still and not interfere, the housework could be +accomplished with half the labour that at present went to it. There were +three women in the place, or at any rate, a woman, a young woman, and a +girl--and in theory the main preoccupation of all of them was this business +of domesticity. It was, of course, ridiculous, and she would never be able +to make anyone see that it was ridiculous. But that was not all. The very +business itself absolutely disgusted her. It disgusted her to such a point +that she would have preferred to do it with her own hands in secret rather +than see others do it openly in all its squalor. The business might be more +efficiently organized--for example, there was no reason why the +sitting-room should be made uninhabitable between breakfast and dinner once +a week--but it could never be other than odious. The kitchen floor must +inevitably be washed every day by a girl on her knees in sackcloth with +terrible hands. She was witnessing now the first stage in the progress of a +victim of the business of domesticity. To-day Florrie was a charming young +creature, full of slender grace. Soon she would be a dehumanized drudge. +And Hilda could not stop it! All over the town, in every street of the +town, behind all the nice curtains and blinds, the same hidden shame was +being enacted: a vast, sloppy, steaming, greasy, social horror--inevitable! +It amounted to barbarism, Hilda thought in her revolt. She turned from it +with loathing. And yet nobody else seemed to turn from it with loathing. +Nobody else seemed to perceive that this business of domesticity was not +life itself, was at best the clumsy external machinery of life. On the +contrary, about half the adult population worshipped it as an exercise +sacred and paramount, enlarging its importance and with positive gusto +permitting it to monopolize their existence. Nine-tenths of her mother's +conversation was concerned with the business of domesticity--and withal +Mrs. Lessways took the business more lightly than most!</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>There was an impatient knock at the front door,--rare phenomenon, but +not unknown.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways cried out thickly from the folds of her flannel +petticoat:</p> + +<p>"Hilda, just see who that is, will you?... knocking like that! Florrie +can't come."</p> + +<p>And just as Hilda reached the front door, her mother opened the kitchen +door wide, to view the troublesome disturber and to inform him, if as was +probable he was exceeding his rights, that he would have done better to try +the back door.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Cannon at the front door.</p> + +<p>Hilda heard the kitchen door slammed to behind her, but the noise was +like a hallucination in her brain. She was staggered by the apparition of +Mr. Cannon in the porch. She had vaguely wondered what he might do to +execute his promise of aid; she had felt that time was running short if her +mother was to be prevented from commencing rent-collector on the Monday; +she had perhaps ingenuously expected from him some kind of miracle; but of +a surety she had never dreamed that he would call in person at her home. +"He must be mad!" she would have exclaimed to herself, if the grandeur of +his image in her heart had not made any such accusation impossible to her. +He was not mad; he was merely inscrutable, terrifyingly so. It was as if +her adventurous audacity, personified, had doubled back on her, and was +exquisitely threatening her.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon!" said Mr. Cannon, smiling confidently and yet with +ceremoniousness. "Is your mother about?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Hilda did not know it, but she was whispering quite in the manner +of Florrie.</p> + +<p>"Shall I come in?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Please do!" The words jumped out of her mouth all at once, so +anxious was she to destroy any impression conceivably made that she did not +desire him to come in.</p> + +<p>He crossed the step and took her hand with one gesture. She shut the +door. He waited in suave silence. There was barely space for them together +in the narrow lobby, and she scarce dared look up at him. He easily +dominated her. His bigness subdued her, and the handsomeness of his face +and his attire was like a moral intimidation. He had a large physical +splendour that was well set off and illustrated by the brilliance of his +linen and his broadcloth. She was as modest as a mouse beside him. The +superior young woman, the stern and yet indulgent philosopher, had utterly +vanished, and only a poor little mouse remained.</p> + +<p>"Will you please come into the drawing-room?" she murmured when, after +an immense effort to keep full control of her faculties, she had decided +where he must be put.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he said.</p> + +<p>As she diminished herself, with beautiful shy curves of her body, +against the wall so that he could manoeuvre his bigness through the +drawing-room doorway, he gave her a glance half benign and half politely +malicious, which seemed to say again: "I know you're afraid, and I rather +like it. But you know you needn't be."</p> + +<p>"Please take a seat," she implored. And then quickly, as he seemed to +have no intention of speaking to her confidentially, "I'll tell +mother."</p> + +<p>Leaving the room, she saw him sink smoothly into a seat, his rich-piled +hat in one gloved hand and an ebony walking-stick in the other. His +presence had a disastrous effect on the chill, unfrequented drawing-room, +reducing it instantly to a condition of paltry shabbiness.</p> + +<p>The kitchen door was still shut. Yes, all the squalor of the business of +domesticity must be hidden from this splendid being! Hilda went as a +criminal into the kitchen. Mrs. Lessways with violent movements signalled +her to close the door before speaking. Florrie gazed spellbound upwards at +both of them. The household was in a high fever.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me that's Mr. Cannon!" Mrs. Lessways excitedly +whispered.</p> + +<p>"Do--do--you know him?" Hilda faltered.</p> + +<p>"Do I know him!... What does he want?"</p> + +<p>"He wants to see you."</p> + +<p>"What about?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's about property or something," Hilda replied, blushing. +Never had she felt so abject in front of her mother.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways rapidly unpinned the flannel petticoat and then threw it, +with a desperate gesture of sacrifice, on to the deal table. The situation +had to be met. The resplendent male awaited her in the death-cold room. The +resplendent male had his overcoat, but she, suffering, must face the rigour +and the risk unprotected. No matter if she caught bronchitis! The thing had +to be done. Even Hilda did not think of accusing her mother of folly. Mrs. +Lessways having patted her hair, emptied several handkerchiefs from the +twin pockets of her embroidered black apron, and, snatching at the clean +handkerchief furnished by Hilda, departed to her fate. She was certainly +startled and puzzled, but she was not a whit intimidated, and the +perception of this fact inspired Hilda with a new, reluctant respect for +her mother.</p> + +<p>Hilda, from the kitchen, heard the greetings in the drawing-room, and +then the reverberations of the sufferer's nose. She desired to go into the +drawing-room. Her mother probably expected her to go in. But she dared not. +She was afraid.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering," said the voice of Mr. Cannon, "whether you've ever +thought of selling your Calder Street property, Mrs. Lessways." And then +the drawing-room door was closed, and the ticking of the grandfather's +clock resumed possession of the lobby.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c5">CHAPTER V</a><br /> MRS. LESSWAYS' SHREWDNESS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Waiting irresolute in the kitchen doorway, Hilda passed the most +thrillingly agreeable moments that destiny had ever vouchsafed to her. She +dwelt on the mysterious, attractive quality of Mr. Cannon's voice,--she was +sure that, though in speaking to her mother he was softly persuasive, he +had used to herself a tone even more intimate and ingratiating. He and she +had a secret; they were conspirators together: which fact was both +disconcerting and delicious. She recalled their propinquity in the lobby; +the remembered syllables which he had uttered mingled with the faint scent +of his broadcloth, the whiteness of his wristbands, the gleam of his studs, +the droop of his moustaches, the downward ray of his glance, and the proud, +nimble carriage of his great limbs,--and formed in her mind the image of an +ideal. An image regarded not with any tenderness, but with naïve +admiration, and unquestioning respect! And yet also with more than that, +for when she dwelt on his glance, she had a slight transient feeling of +faintness which came and went in a second, and which she did not +analyse--and could not have analysed.</p> + +<p>Clouds of fear sailed in swift capriciousness across the sky of her +dreaming, obscuring it: fear of Mr. Cannon's breath-taking initiative, fear +of the upshot of her adventure, and a fear without a name. Nevertheless she +exulted. She exulted because she was in the very midst of her wondrous +adventure and tingling with a thousand apprehensions.</p> + +<p>After a long time the latch of the drawing-room door cracked warningly. +Hilda retired within the kitchen out of sight of the lobby. She knew that +the child in her would compel her to wait like a child until the visitor +was gone, instead of issuing forth boldly like a young woman. But to +Florrie the young mistress with her stern dark mask and formidable eyebrows +and air of superb disdain was as august as a goddess. Florrie, moving +backwards, had now got nearly to the scullery door with her wringing and +splashing and wiping; and she had dirtied even her face. As Hilda absently +looked at her, she thought somehow of Mr. Cannon's white wristbands. She +saw the washing and the ironing of those wristbands, and a slatternly woman +or two sighing and grumbling amid wreaths of steam, and a background of +cinders and suds and sloppiness.... All that, so that the grand creature +might have a rim of pure white to his coat-sleeves for a day! It was +inevitable. But the grand creature must never know. The shame necessary to +his splendour must be concealed from him, lest he might be offended. And +this was woman's loyalty! Her ideas concerning the business of domesticity +were now mixed and opposing and irreconcileable, and she began to suspect +that the bases of society might be more complex and confusing than in her +youthful downrightness she had imagined.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"Well, you've got your way!" said Mrs. Lessways, with a certain grim, +disdainful cheerfulness, from which benevolence was not quite absent. The +drastic treatment accorded to her cold seemed to have done it good. At any +rate she had not resumed the flannel petticoat, and the nasal symptoms were +much less pronounced.</p> + +<p>"Got my way?" Hilda repeated, at a loss and newly apprehensive.</p> + +<p>Mother and daughter were setting tea. Florrie had been doing very well, +but she was not yet quite equal to her situation, and the mistresses were +now performing her lighter duties while she changed from the offensive +drudge to the neat parlour-maid. Throughout the afternoon Hilda had avoided +her mother's sight; partly because she wanted to be alone (without knowing +why), and partly because she was afraid lest Mr. Cannon, as a member of the +older generation, might have betrayed her to her mother. This fear was not +very genuine, though she pretended that it was and enjoyed playing with it: +as if she really desired a catastrophe for the outcome of her adventure. +She had only come downstairs in response to her mother's direct summons, +and instantly on seeing her she had known that Mr. Cannon was not a +traitor. Which knowledge somehow rendered her gay in spite of herself. So +that, what with this gaiety, and the stimulation produced in Mrs. Lessways +by the visit of Mr. Cannon, and the general household relief at the obvious +fact that Florrie would rather more than 'do,' the atmosphere around the +tinkling tea-table in the half-light was decidedly pleasant.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless the singular turn of Mrs. Lessways' phrase,--"You've got +your way,"--had startled the guilty Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cannon's going to see to the collecting of the Calder Street +rents," explained Mrs. Lessways. "So I hope you're satisfied, miss."</p> + +<p>Hilda was aware of self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may well colour up!" Mrs. Lessways pursued, genial but +malicious. "You're as pleased as Punch, and you're saying to yourself +you've made your old mother give way to ye again! And so you needn't tell +me!"</p> + +<p>"I thought," said Hilda, with all possible prim worldliness,--"I thought +I heard him saying something about buying the property?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways laughed, sceptically, confidently, as one who could not be +deceived. "Pooh!" she said. "That was only a try-on. That was only so that +he could begin his palaver! Don't tell me! I may be a simpleton, but I'm +not such a simpleton as he thinks for, nor as some other folks think for, +either!" (At this point Hilda had to admit that in truth her mother was not +completely a simpleton. In her mother was a vein of perceptive shrewdness +that occasionally cropped out and made all Hilda's critical philosophy seem +school-girlish.) "Do you think I don't know George Cannon? He came here o' +purpose to get that rent-collecting. Well, he's got it, and he's welcome to +it, for I doubt not he'll do it a sight better than poor Mr. Skellorn! But +he needn't hug himself that he's been too clever for me, because he hasn't. +I gave him the rent-collecting because I thought I would!... Buy! He's no +more got a good customer for Calder Street than he's got a good customer +for this slop-bowl!"</p> + +<p>Hilda resented this casual detraction of a being who had so deeply +impressed her. And moreover she was convinced that her mother, secretly +very flattered and delighted by the visit, was adopting a derisive attitude +in order to 'show off' before her daughter. Parents are thus ingenuous! But +she was so shocked and sneaped that she found it more convenient to say +nothing.</p> + +<p>"George Cannon could talk the hind leg off a horse," Mrs. Lessways +continued quite happily. "And yet it isn't as if he said a great deal. He +doesn't. I'll say this for him. He's always the gentleman. And I couldn't +say as much for his sister being a lady, and I'm sorry for it. He's the +most gentlemanly man in Turnhill, and always so spruce, too!"</p> + +<p>"His sister?"</p> + +<p>"Well, his half-sister, since you're so particular, Miss Precise!"</p> + +<p>"Not Miss Gailey?" said Hilda, who began faintly to recall a forgotten +fact of which she thought she had once been cognizant.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Gailey," Mrs. Lessways snapped, still very genial and +content. "I did hear she's quarrelled out and out with <i>him</i>, too, at +last!" She tightened her lips. "Draw the blind down."</p> + +<p>Miss Gailey, a spinster of superior breeding and a teacher of dancing, +had in the distant past been an intimate friend of Mrs. Lessways. The +friendship was legendary in the house, and the grand quarrel which had +finally put an end to it dated in Hilda's early memories like a historical +event. For many years the two had not exchanged a word.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways lit the gas, and the china and the white cloth and the +coloured fruit-jelly and the silver spoons caught the light and threw it +off again, with gaiety.</p> + +<p>"Has she swept the hearth? Yes, she has," said Mrs. Lessways, glancing +round at the red fire.</p> + +<p>Hilda sat down to wait, folding her hands as it were in meekness. In a +few moments Florrie entered with the teapot and the hot-water jug. The +child wore proudly a new white apron that was a little too long for her, +and she smiled happily at Mrs. Lessways' brief compliment on her appearance +and her briskness. She might have been in paradise.</p> + +<p>"Come in for your cup in three minutes," said Mrs. Lessways; and to +Hilda when Florrie had whispered and gone: "Now we shall see if she can +make tea. I told her very particularly this morning, and she seems quick +enough."</p> + +<p>And when three minutes had expired Mrs. Lessways tasted the tea. Yes, it +was good. It was quite good. Undeniably the water had boiled within five +seconds of being poured on the leaves. There was something <i>in</i> this +Florrie. Already she was exhibiting the mysterious quality of efficiency. +The first day, being the first day, had of course not been without its +discouraging moments, but on the whole Florrie had proved that she could be +trusted to understand, and to do things.</p> + +<p>"Here's an extra piece of sugar for you," said Mrs. Lessways, beaming, +as Florrie left the parlour with her big breakfast-cup full of steaming +tea, to drink with the thick bread-and-butter on the scrubbed +kitchen-table, all by herself. "And don't touch the gas in the +kitchen--it's quite high enough for young eyes," Mrs. Lessways cried out +after her.</p> + +<p>"Little poppet!" she murmured to herself, maternally reflecting upon +Florence's tender youth.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>She was happy, was Mrs. Lessways, in her domesticity. She foresaw an +immediate future that would be tranquil. She was preparing herself to lean +upon the reliability of Florrie as upon a cushion. She liked the little +poppet. And she liked well-made tea and pure jelly. And she had settled the +Calder Street problem; and incidentally Hilda was thereby placated. Why +should she not be happy? She wished for nothing else. And she was not a +woman to meet trouble half-way. One of her greatest qualities was that she +did not unduly worry. (Hilda might say that she did not worry enough, +letting things go.) In spite of her cold, she yielded with more gusto than +usual to the meal, and even said that if Florrie 'continued to shape' they +would have hot toast again. Hot toast had long since been dropped from the +menu, as an item too troublesome. As a rule the meals were taken hurriedly +and negligently, like a religious formality which has lost its meaning but +which custom insists on.</p> + +<p>Hilda could not but share her mother's satisfaction. She could not +entirely escape the soft influence of the tranquillity in which the +household was newly bathed. The domestic existence of unmated women +together, though it is full of secret exasperations, also has its hours of +charm--a charm honied, perverse, and unique. Hilda felt the charm. But she +was suddenly sad, and she again found pleasure in her sadness. She was sad +because her adventure was over--over too soon and too easily. She thought, +now, that really she would have preferred a catastrophe as the end of it. +She had got what she desired; but she was no better off than she had been +before the paralytic stroke of Mr. Skellorn. Domesticity had closed in on +her once more. Her secret adventure had become sterile. Its risks were +destroyed, and nothing could spring from it. Nevertheless it lived in her +heart. After all it had been tremendous! And the virtue of audacious +initiative was miraculous!... Yes, her mother was shrewd enough--that could +not be denied--but she was not so shrewd as she imagined; for it had never +occurred to her, and it never would occur to her, even in the absurdest +dream--that the author of Mr. Cannon's visit was the girl sitting opposite +to her and delicately pecking at jelly!</p> + +<p>"How is he Miss Gailey's half-brother?" Hilda demanded half-way through +the meal.</p> + +<p>"Why! Mrs. Gailey--Sarah Gailey's mother, that is--married a foreigner +after her first husband died."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Cannon isn't a foreigner?"</p> + +<p>"He's half a foreigner. Look at his eyes. Surely you knew all about +that, child!... No, it was before your time."</p> + +<p>Hilda then learnt that Mrs. Gailey had married a French modeller named +Canonges, who had been brought over from Limoges (or some such sounding +place) by Peels at Bursley, the great rivals of Mintons and of Copelands. +And that in course of time the modeller had informally changed the name to +Cannon, because no one in the Five Towns could pronounce the true name +rightly. And that George Cannon, the son of the union, had been left early +an orphan.</p> + +<p>"How did he come to be a solicitor?" Hilda questioned eagerly.</p> + +<p>"They say he isn't really a solicitor," said Mrs. Lessways. "That is, he +hasn't passed his examinations like. But I dare say he knows as much law as +a lot of 'em, <i>and</i> more! And he has that Mr. Karkeek to cover him +like. That's what they <i>say</i>.... He used to be a lawyer's clerk--at +Toms and Scoles's, I think it was. Then he left the district for a year or +two--or it might be several. And then his lordship comes back all of a +sudden, and sets up with Mr. Karkeek, just like that."</p> + +<p>"Can he talk French?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Mr. Cannon? He can talk <i>English</i>! My word, he can that! Eh, +he's a 'customer,' he is--a regular' customer'!"</p> + +<p>Hilda, instead of being seated at the table, was away in far realms of +romance.</p> + +<p>The startling thought occurred to her:</p> + +<p>"Of course, he'll expect me to go and see him! He's done what I asked +him, and he'll expect me to go and see him and talk it over. And I suppose +I shall have to pay him something. I'd forgotten that, and I ought not to +have forgotten it."</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c6">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> VICTOR HUGO AND ISAAC PITMAN</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>The next morning, Saturday, Hilda ran no risk in visiting Mr. Cannon. +Her mother's cold, after a fictitious improvement, had assumed an +aggravated form in order to prove that not with impunity may nature be +flouted in unheated October drawing-rooms; and Hilda had been requested to +go to market alone. She was free. And even supposing that the visit should +be observed by the curious, nobody would attach any importance to it, +because everybody would soon be aware that Mr. Cannon had assumed charge of +the Calder Street property.</p> + +<p>Past the brass plates of Mr. Q. Karkeek, out of the straw-littered +hubbub of the market-place, she climbed the long flight of stairs leading +to the offices on the first floor. In one worsted-gloved hand she held a +market-basket of multi-coloured wicker, which dangled a little below the +frilled and flounced edge of her blue jacket. Secure in the pocket of her +valanced brown skirt--for at that time and in that place it had not yet +occurred to any woman that pockets were a superfluity--a private +half-sovereign lay in the inmost compartment of her purse; this coin was +destined to recompense Mr. Cannon. Her free hand went up to the heavy +chignon that hung uncertainly beneath her bonnet--a gesture of coquetry +which she told herself she despised.</p> + +<p>Her face was a prim and rather forbidding mask, assuredly a mysterious +mask. She could not have explained her own feelings. She was still in the +adventure, but the end of it was immediate. She had nothing to hope from +the future. Her essential infelicity was as profound and as enigmatic as +ever. She might have said with deliberate and vehement sincerity that she +was not happy. Wise, experienced observers, studying her as she walked her +ways in the streets, might have said of her with sympathetically sad +conviction, "That girl is not happy! What a pity!" It was so. And yet, in +her unhappiness she was blest. She savoured her unhappiness. She drank it +down passionately, as though it were the very water of life--which it was. +She lived to the utmost in every moment. The recondite romance of existence +was not hidden from her. The sudden creation--her creation--of the link +with Mr. Cannon seemed to her surpassingly strange and romantic; and in so +regarding it she had no ulterior thought whatever: she looked on it with +the single-mindedness of an artist looking on his work. And was it not +indeed astounding that by a swift caprice and stroke of audacity she should +have changed and tranquillized the ominous future for her unsuspecting +mother and herself? Was it not absolutely disconcerting that she and this +Mr. Cannon, whom she had never known before and in whom she had no other +interest, should bear between them this singular secret, at once innocent +and guilty, in the midst of the whole town so deaf and blind?</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>A somewhat shabby-genteel, youngish man appeared at the head of the +stairs; he was wearing a silk hat and a too ample frock-coat. And +immediately, from the hidden corridor at the top, she heard the voice of +Mr. Cannon, imperious:</p> + +<p>"Karkeek!"</p> + +<p>The shabby-genteel man stopped. Hilda wanted to escape, but she could +not, chiefly because her pride would not allow. She had to go on. She went +on, frowning.</p> + +<p>The man vanished back into the corridor. She could hear that Mr. Cannon +had joined him in conversation. She arrived at the corridor.</p> + +<p>"How-d'ye-do, Miss Lessways?" Mr. Cannon greeted her with calm +politeness, turning from Mr. Karkeek, who raised his hat. "Will you come +this way? One moment, Mr. Karkeek."</p> + +<p>Through a door marked "Private" Mr. Cannon introduced Hilda straight +into his own room; then shut the door on her. He held in one hand a large +calf-bound volume, from which evidently he was expounding something to Mr. +Karkeek. The contrast between the expensive informality of Mr. Cannon's new +suit and the battered ceremoniousness of Mr. Karkeek's struck her just as +much as the contrast between their demeanours; and she felt, vaguely, the +oddness of the fact that the name of the deferential Mr. Karkeek, and not +the name of the commanding Mr. Cannon, should be upon the door-plates and +the wire-blinds of the establishment. But of course she was not in a +position to estimate the full significance of this remarkable phenomenon. +Further, though she perfectly remembered her mother's observations upon Mr. +Cannon's status, they did not in the slightest degree damage him in her +eyes--when once those eyes had been set on him again. They seemed to her +inessential. The essential, for her, was the incontestable natural +authority and dignity of his bearing.</p> + +<p>She sat down, self-consciously, in the chair--opposite the owner's +chair--which she had occupied at her first visit, and thus surveyed, across +the large flat desk, all the ranged documents and bundles with the writing +thereon upside down. There also was his blotting-pad, and his vast +inkstand, and his pens, and his thick diary. The disposition of the things +on the desk seemed to indicate, sharply and incontrovertibly, that +orderliness, that inexorable efficiency, which more than aught else she +admired in the external conduct of life. The spectacle satisfied her, +soothed her, and seemed to explain the attractiveness of Mr. Cannon.</p> + +<p>Immediately to her left was an open bookcase almost filled with heavy +volumes. The last of a uniform row of Law Reports was absent from its +place--being at that moment in the corridor, in the hands of Mr. Cannon. +The next book, a thin one, had toppled over sideways and was bridging the +vacancy at an angle; several other similar thin books filled up the +remainder of the shelf. She stared, with the factitious interest of one who +is very nervously awaiting an encounter, at the titles, and presently +deciphered the words, 'Victor Hugo,' on each of the thin volumes. Her +interest instantly became real. Characteristically abrupt and unreflecting, +she deposited her basket on the floor and, going to the bookcase, took out +the slanting volume. Its title was <i>Les Rayons et Les Ombres</i>. She +opened it by hazard at the following poem, which had no heading and which +stood, a small triptych of print, rather solitary in the lower half of a +large white page:</p> + +<blockquote> +Dieu qui sourit et qui donne<br /> +Et qui vient vers qui l'attend<br /> +Pourvu que vous soyez bonne,<br /> + Sera content.<br /> + +Le monde où tout étincelle,<br /> +Mais ou rien n'est enflammé,<br /> +Pourvu que vous soyez belle,<br /> + Sera charmé.<br /> + +Mon coeur, dans l'ombre amoureuse,<br /> +Où l'énivrent deux beaux yeux,<br /> +Pourvu que tu sois heureuse,<br /> + Sera joyeux.<br /> + +</blockquote> + +<p>That was all. But she shook as though a miracle had been enacted. Hilda, +owing partly to the fondness of an otherwise stern grandfather and partly +to the vanity of her unimportant father, had finally been sent to a school +attended by girls who on the average were a little above herself in +station--Chetwynd's, in the valley between Turnhill and Bursley. (It was +still called Chetwynd's though it had changed hands.) Among the staff was a +mistress who was known as Miss Miranda--she seemed to have no surname. One +of Miss Miranda's duties had been to teach optional French, and one of Miss +Miranda's delights had been to dictate this very poem of Victor Hugo's to +her pupils for learning by heart. It was Miss Miranda's sole French poem, +and she imposed it with unfading delight on the successive generations whom +she 'grounded' in French. Hilda had apparently forgotten most of her +French, but as she now read the poem (for the first time in print), it +re-established itself in her memory as the most lovely verse that she had +ever known, and the recitations of it in Miss Miranda's small classroom +came back to her with an effect beautiful and tragic. And also there was +the name of Victor Hugo, which Miss Miranda's insistent enthusiasm had +rendered sublime and legendary to a sensitive child! Hilda now saw the +sacred name stamped in gold on a whole set of elegant volumes! It was +marvellous that she should have turned the page containing just that poem! +It was equally marvellous that she should have discovered the works of +Victor Hugo in the matter-of-fact office of Mr. Cannon! But was it? Was he +not half-French, and were not these books precisely a corroboration of what +her mother had told her? Mr. Cannon's origin at once assumed for her the +strange seductive hues of romance; he shared the glory of Victor Hugo. Then +the voices in the corridor ceased, and with a decisive movement he +unlatched the door. She relinquished the book and calmly sat down as he +entered.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>"Of course, your mother's told you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I had no difficulty at all. I just asked her what she was going to do +about the rent-collecting."</p> + +<p>Standing up in front of Hilda, but on his own side of the desk, Mr. +Cannon smiled as a conqueror who can recount a triumph with pride, but +without conceit. She looked at him with naïve admiration. To admire +him was agreeable to her; and she liked also to feel unimportant in his +presence. But she fought, unsuccessfully, against the humiliating idea that +his personal smartness convicted her of being shabby--of being even +inefficient in one department of her existence; and she could have wished +to be magnificently dressed.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lessways is a very shrewd lady--very shrewd indeed!" said Mr. +Cannon, with a smile, this time, to indicate humorously that Mrs. Lessways +was not so easy to handle as might be imagined, and that even the cleverest +must mind their p's and q's with such a lady.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, she <i>is</i>!" Hilda agreed, with an exaggerated emphasis that +showed a lack of conviction. Indeed, she had never thought of her mother as +a <i>very</i> shrewd lady.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cannon continued to smile in silence upon the shrewdness of Mrs. +Lessways, giving little appreciative movements of the diaphragm, drawing in +his lips and by consequence pushing out his cheeks like a child's; and his +eyes were all the time saying lightly: "Still, I managed her!" And while +this pleasant intimate silence persisted, the noises of the market-place +made themselves prominent, quite agreeably--in particular the hard metallic +stamping and slipping, on the bricked pavement under the window, of a team +of cart-horses that were being turned in a space too small for their grand, +free movements, and the good-humoured cracking of a whip. Again Hilda was +impressed, mystically, by the strangeness of the secret relation between +herself and this splendid effective man. There they were, safe within the +room, almost on a footing of familiar friendship! The atmosphere was +different from that of the first interview. And none knew! And she alone +had brought it all about by a simple caprice!</p> + +<p>"I was fine and startled when I saw you at our door, Mr. Cannon!" she +said.</p> + +<p>He might have said, "Were you? You didn't show it." She was half +expecting him to say some such thing. But he became reflective, and began: +"Well, you see--" and then hesitated.</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell me you thought of calling."</p> + +<p>"Well," he proceeded at last--and she could not be sure whether he was +replying to her or not--"I was pretty nearly ready to buy that Calder +Street property. And I thought I'd talk <i>that</i> over with your mother +first! It just happened to make a good beginning, you see." He spoke with +all the flattering charm of the confidential.</p> + +<p>Hilda flushed. Under her mother's suggestion, she had been misjudging +him. He had not been guilty of mere scheming. She was profoundly glad. The +act of apology to him, performed in her own mind, gave her a curious +delight.</p> + +<p>"I wish she would sell," said Hilda, to whom the ownership of a slum was +obnoxious.</p> + +<p>"Very soon your consent would be necessary to any sale."</p> + +<p>"Really!" she exclaimed, agreeably flattered, but scarcely surprised by +this information. "I should consent quick enough! I can't bear to walk down +the street!"</p> + +<p>He laughed condescendingly. "Well, I don't think your mother +<i>would</i> care to sell, if you ask me." He sat down.</p> + +<p>Hilda frowned, regretting her confession and resenting his laughter.</p> + +<p>"What will your charges be, please, Mr. Cannon?" she demanded abruptly, +and yet girlishly timid. And at the same moment she drew forth her purse, +which she had been holding ready in her hand.</p> + +<p>For a second he thought she was referring to the price of +rent-collecting, but the appearance of the purse explained her meaning. +"Oh! There's no charge!" he said, in a low voice, seizing a penholder.</p> + +<p>"But I must pay you something! I can't--"</p> + +<p>"No, you mustn't!"</p> + +<p>Their glances met in conflict across the table. She had known that he +would say exactly that. And she had been determined to insist on paying a +fee--utterly determined! But she could not, now, withstand the force of his +will. Her glance failed her. She was disconcerted by the sudden +demonstration of her inferiority. She was distressed. And then a feeling of +faintness, and the gathering of a mist in the air, positively frightened +her. The mist cleared. His glance seemed to say, with kindness: "You see +how much stronger I am than you! But you can trust me!" The sense of +adventure grew even more acute in her. She marvelled at what life was, and +hid the purse like a shame.</p> + +<p>"It's very kind of you," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit!" he said. "I've got a job through this. Don't forget that. +We don't collect rents for nothing, you know--especially Calder Street sort +of rents!"</p> + +<p>She picked up her basket and rose. He also rose.</p> + +<p>"So you've been looking at my Victor Hugo," he remarked, putting his +right hand negligently into his pocket instead of holding it forth in +adieu.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>So overset was she by the dramatic surprise of his challenging remark, +and so enlightened by the sudden perception of it being perfectly +characteristic of him, that her manner changed in an instant to a delicate, +startled timidity. All the complex sensitiveness of her nature was +expressed simultaneously in the changing tints of her face, the confusion +of her eyes and her gestures, and the exquisite hesitations of her voice as +she told him about the coincidence which had brought back to her in his +office the poem of her schooldays.</p> + +<p>He came to the bookcase and, taking out the volume, handled it +carelessly.</p> + +<p>"I only brought these things here because they're nicely bound and fill +up the shelf," he said. "Not much use in a lawyer's office, you know!" He +glanced from the volume to her, and from her to the volume. "Ah! Miss +Miranda! Yes! Well! It isn't so wonderful as all that. My father used to +give her lessons in French. This Hugo was his. He thought a great deal of +it." Mr. Cannon's pose exhibited pride, but it was obvious that he did not +share his father's taste. His tone rather patronized his father, and Hugo +too. As he let the pages of the book slip by under his thumb, he stopped, +and with a very good French accent, quite different from Hilda's memory of +Miss Miranda's, murmured in a sort of chanting--"<i>Dieu qui sourit et qui +donne</i>."</p> + +<p>"That's the very one!" cried Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Ah! There you are then! You see--the bookmark was at that page." Hilda +had not noticed the thin ribbon almost concealed in the jointure of the +pages. "I wouldn't be a bit astonished if my father had lent her this very +book! Curious, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>It was. Nevertheless, Hilda felt that his sense of the miraculousness of +life was not so keen as her own; and she was disappointed.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're very fond of reading?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not," she replied. Her spirit lifted a little courageously, to +meet his with defiance, like a ship lifting its prow above the threatening +billow. Her eyes wavered, but did not fall before his.</p> + +<p>"Really! Now, I should have said you were a great reader. What do you do +with yourself?" He now spoke like a brother, confident of a trustful +response.</p> + +<p>"I just waste my time," she answered coldly. She saw that he was +puzzled, interested, and piqued, and that he was examining her quite +afresh.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said shortly, after a pause, adopting the benevolent tone of +an uncle or even a great-uncle, "you'll be getting married one of these +days."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to get married," she retorted obstinately, and with a +harder glance.</p> + +<p>"Then what do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." She discovered great relief, even pleasure, in thus +callously exposing her mind to a stranger.</p> + +<p>Tapping his teeth with one thumb, he gazed at her, apparently in +meditation upon her peculiar case. At last he said:</p> + +<p>"I tell you what you ought to do. You ought to go in for +phonography."</p> + +<p>"Phonography?" She was at a loss.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Pitman's shorthand, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh! shorthand--yes. I've heard of it. But why?"</p> + +<p>"Why? It's going to be the great thing of the future. There never was +anything like it!" His voice grew warm and his glance scintillated. And now +Hilda understood her mother's account of his persuasiveness; she felt the +truth of that odd remark that he could talk the hind leg off a horse.</p> + +<p>"But does it lead to anything?" she inquired, with her strong sense of +intrinsic values.</p> + +<p>"I should say it did!" he answered. "It leads to everything! There's +nothing it won't lead to! It's the key of the future. You'll see. Look at +Dayson. He's taken it up, and now he's giving lessons in it. He's got a +room over his aunt's. I can tell you he staggered me. He wrote in shorthand +as fast as ever I could read to him, and then he read out what he'd +written, without a single slip. I'm having one of my chaps taught. I'm +paying for the lessons. I thought of learning myself--yes, really! Oh! It's +a thing that'll revolutionize all business and secretarial work and so +on--revolutionize it! And it's spreading. It'll be the Open Sesame to +everything. Anybody that can write a hundred and twenty words a minute'll +be able to walk into any situation he wants--straight <i>into</i> it! +There's never been anything like it. Look! Here it is!"</p> + +<p>He snatched up a pale-green booklet from the desk and opened it before +her. She saw the cryptic characters for the first time. And she saw them +with his glowing eyes. In their mysterious strokes and curves and dots she +saw romance, and the key of the future; she saw the philosopher's stone. +She saw a new religion that had already begun to work like leaven in the +town. The revelation was deliciously intoxicating. She was converted, as by +lightning. She yielded to the ecstasy of discipleship. Here--somehow, +inexplicably, incomprehensively--here was the answer to the enigma of her +long desire. And it was an answer original, strange, distinguished, +unexpected, unique; yes, and divine! How lovely, how beatific, to be the +master of this enchanted key!</p> + +<p>"It must be very interesting!" she said, low, with the venturesome +shyness of a deer that is reassured.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind telling you this," Mr. Cannon went on, with the fire of +the prophet. "I've got something coming along pretty soon"--he repeated +more slowly--"I've got something coming along pretty soon, where there'll +be scope for a young lady that can write shorthand <i>well</i>. I can't +tell you what it is, but it's something different from anything there's +ever been in this town; <i>and</i> better."</p> + +<p>His eyes masterfully held hers, seeming to say: "I'm vague. But I was +vague when I told you I'd see what could be done about your mother--and +look at what I did, and how quickly and easily I did it! When I'm vague, it +means a lot." And she entirely understood that his vagueness was +calculated--out of pride.</p> + +<p>They talked about Mr. Dayson a little.</p> + +<p>"I must go now," said Hilda awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"I'd like you to take that Hugo," he said. "I dare say it would interest +you.... Remind you of old times."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!"</p> + +<p>"You can return it, when you like."</p> + +<p>Her features became apologetic. She had too hastily assumed that he +wished to force a gift on her.</p> + +<p>"Please!" he ejaculated. No abuse this time of moral authority! But an +appeal, boyish, wistful, supplicating. It was irresistible, completely +irresistible. It gave her an extraordinary sense of personal power.</p> + +<p>He wrapped up the book for her in a sheet of blue "draft" paper that +noisily crackled. While he was doing so, a tiny part of her brain was, as +it were, automatically exploring a box of old books in the attic at home +and searching therein for a Gasc's French-English Dictionary which she had +used at school and never thought of since.</p> + +<p>"My compliments to your mother," he said at parting.</p> + +<p>She gazed at him questioningly.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I was forgetting," he corrected himself, with an avuncular, ironic +smile. "You're not supposed to have seen me, are you?"</p> + +<p>Then she was outside in the din; and from thrilling altitudes she had to +bring her mind to marketing. She hid under apples the flat blue parcel in +the basket.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c7">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> THE EDITORIAL SECRETARY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Arthur Dayson, though a very good shorthand writer, and not without +experience as a newspaper reporter and sub-editor, was a nincompoop. There +could be no other explanation of his bland, complacent indifference as he +sat poking at a coke stove one cold night of January, 1880, in full view of +a most marvellous and ravishing spectacle. The stove was in a room on the +floor above the offices labelled as Mr. Q. Karkeek's; its pipe, supported +by wire stays, went straight up nearly to the grimy ceiling, and then +turned horizontally and disappeared through a clumsy hole in the scorched +wall. It was a shabby stove, but not more so than the other few articles of +furniture--a large table, a small desk, three deteriorated cane-chairs, two +gas brackets, and an old copying-press on its rickety stand. The sole +object that could emerge brightly from the ordeal of the gas-flare was a +splendid freshly printed blue poster gummed with stamp-paper to the wall: +which poster bore the words, in vast capitals of two sizes: "<i>The Five +Towns Chronicle and Turnhill Guardian</i>." Copies of this poster had also +been fixed, face outwards, on the two curtainless black windows, to +announce to the Market Square what was afoot in the top storey over the +ironmonger's.</p> + +<p>A young woman, very soberly attired, was straining at the double +iron-handles of the copying-press. Some copying-presses have a screw so +accurately turned and so well oiled, and handles so massively like a +fly-wheel, that a touch will send the handles whizzing round and round till +they stop suddenly, and then one slight wrench more, and the letters are +duly copied! But this was not such a press. It had been outworn in Mr. +Karkeek's office; rust had intensified its original defects of design, and +it produced the minimum of result with the maximum of means. Nevertheless, +the young woman loved it. She clenched her hands and her teeth, and she +frowned, as though she loved it. And when she had sufficiently crushed the +letter-book in the press, she lovingly unscrewed and drew forth the book; +and with solicitude she opened the book on the smaller table, and tenderly +detached the blotting-paper from the damp tissue paper, and at last +extracted the copied letter and examined its surface.</p> + +<p>"Smudged!" she murmured, tragic.</p> + +<p>And the excellent ass Dayson, always facetiously cheerful, and without a +grain of humour, remarked:</p> + +<p>"Copiousness with the H<sub>2</sub>O, Miss Lessways, is the father of +smudged epistles. I'm ready to go through these proofs with you as soon as +you are."</p> + +<p>He was over thirty. He had had affairs with young women. He reckoned +that there remained little for him to learn. He had deliberately watched +this young woman at the press. He had clearly seen her staring under the +gas-jet at the copied letter. And yet in her fierce muscular movements, and +in her bendings and straightenings, and in her delicate caressings, and in +her savage scowlings and wrinklings, and in her rapt gazings, and in all +her awful absorption, he had quite failed to perceive the terrible eager +outpouring of a human soul, mighty, passionate, and wistful. He had kept +his eyes on her slim bust and tight-girded waist that sprung suddenly neat +and smooth out of the curving skirt-folds, and it had not occurred to him +to exclaim even in his own heart: "With your girlishness and your ferocity, +your intimidating seriousness and your delicious absurdity, I would give a +week's wages just to take hold of you and shake you!" No! The dolt had seen +absolutely naught but a conscientious female beginner learning the duties +of the post which he himself had baptized as that of 'editorial +secretary.'</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Hilda was no longer in a nameless trouble. She no longer wanted she knew +not what. She knew beyond all questioning that she had found that which she +had wanted. For nearly a year she had had lessons in phonography from Miss +Dayson's nephew, often as a member of a varying night-class, and sometimes +alone during the day. She could not write shorthand as well as Mr. Dayson, +and she never would, for Mr. Dayson had the shorthand soul; but, as the +result of sustained and terrific effort, she could write it pretty well. +She had grappled with Isaac Pitman as with Apollyon and had not been +worsted. She could scarcely believe that in class she had taken down at the +rate of ninety words a minute Mr. Dayson's purposely difficult political +speechifyings (which always contained the phrase 'capital punishment,' +because 'capital punishment' was a famous grammalogue); but it was so, Mr. +Dayson's watch proved it.</p> + +<p>About half-way through the period of study, she had learnt from Mr. +Cannon, on one of his rare visits to her mother's, something about his +long-matured scheme for a new local paper. She had at once divined that he +meant to offer her some kind of a situation in the enterprise, and she was +right. Gratitude filled her. Mrs. Lessways, being one of your +happy-go-lucky, broad-minded women, with an experimental disposition--a +disposition to let things alone and see how they will turn out--had made +little objection, though she was not encouraging.</p> + +<p>Instantly the newspaper had become the chief article of Hilda's faith. +She accepted the idea of it as a nun accepts the sacred wafer, in ecstasy. +Yet she knew little about it. She was aware that Mr. Cannon meant to +establish it first as a weekly, and then, when it had grown, to transform +it into a daily and wage war with that powerful monopolist, <i>The +Staffordshire Signal</i>, which from its offices at Hanbridge covered the +entire district. The original title had been <i>The Turnhill Guardian and +Five Towns General Chronicle,</i> and she had approved it; but when Mr. +Cannon, with a view to the intended development, had inverted the title to +<i>The Five Towns Chronicle and Turnhill Guardian</i>, she had +enthusiastically applauded his deep wisdom. Also she had applauded his +project of moving, later on, to Hanbridge, the natural centre of the Five +Towns. This was nearly the limit of her knowledge. She neither knew nor +cared anything about the resources or the politics or the programme or the +prospects of the paper. To her all newspapers were much alike. She did not +even explore, in meditation, the extraordinary psychology of Mr. +Cannon--the man whose original energy and restless love of initiative was +leading him to found a newspaper on the top of a successful but audaciously +irregular practice as a lawyer. She incuriously and with religious +admiration accepted Mr. Cannon as she accepted the idea of the paper. And +being, of course, entirely ignorant of journalism, she was not in a +position to criticize the organizing arrangements of the newspaper. Not +that these would have seemed excessively peculiar to anybody familiar with +the haphazard improvisations of minor journalism in the provinces! She had +indeed, in her innocence, imagined that the basic fact of a newspaper +enterprise would be a printing-press; but when Mr. Dayson, who had been on +<i>The Signal</i> and on sundry country papers in Shropshire, assured her +that the majority of weekly sheets were printed on jobbing presses in +private hands, she corrected her foolish notion.</p> + +<p>Her sole interest--but it was tremendous!--lay in what she herself had +to do--namely, take down from dictation, transcribe, copy, classify, and +keep letters and documents, and occasionally correct proofs. All beyond +this was misty for her, and she never adjusted her sight in order to pierce +the mist.</p> + +<p>Save for her desire to perfect herself in her duties, she had no desire. +She was content. In the dismal, dirty, untidy, untidiable, uncomfortable +office, arctic near the windows, and tropic near the stove, with dust on +her dress and ink on her fingers and the fumes of gas in her quivering +nostrils, and her mind strained and racked by an exaggerated sense of her +responsibilities, she was in heaven! She who so vehemently objected to the +squalid mess of the business of domesticity, revelled in the squalid mess +of this business. She whose heart would revolt because Florrie's work was +never done, was delighted to wait all hours on the convenience of men who +seemed to be the very incarnation of incalculable change and caprice. And +what was she? Nothing but a clerk, at a commencing salary of fifteen +shillings per week! Ah! but she was a priestess! She had a vocation which +was unsoiled by the economic excuse. She was a pioneer. No young woman had +ever done what she was doing. She was the only girl in the Five Towns who +knew shorthand. And in a fortnight (they said) the paper was to come +out!</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>At the large table which was laden with prodigious, heterogeneous masses +of paper and general litter, she bent over the proofs by Mr. Dayson's side. +He had one proof; she had a duplicate; the copy lay between them. It was +the rough galley of a circular to the burgesses that they were correcting +together. Reading and explaining aloud, he inscribed the cabalistic signs +of correction in the margin of his proof, and she faithfully copied them in +the margin of hers, for practice.</p> + +<p>"l.c.," he intoned.</p> + +<p>"What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"Lower case," he explained grandiosely, in the naïve vanity of his +knowledge. "Small letter; not a capital."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, and, writing "l.c.," noted in her striving brain +that 'lower case' meant a small letter instead of a capital; but she knew +not why, and she did not ask; the reason did not trouble her.</p> + +<p>"I think we'll put 'enlightened' there, before 'public' Ring it, will +you?"</p> + +<p>"Ring it? Oh! I see!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, put a ring round the word in the margin. That's to show it isn't +the intelligent compositor's mistake, you see!"</p> + +<p>Then there was a familiar and masterful footstep on the stairs, and the +attention of both of them wavered.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Arthur Dayson and his proof-correcting lost all interest and all +importance for Hilda as Mr. Cannon came into the room. The unconscious, +expressive gesture, scornful and abrupt, with which she neglected them +might have been terribly wounding to a young man more sensitive than +Dayson. But Dayson, in his self-sufficient, good-natured mediocrity, had +the hide of an alligator. He even judged her movement quite natural, for he +was a flunkey born. Hilda gazed at her master with anxiety as he deposited +his black walking-stick in the corner behind the door and loosed his white +muffler and large overcoat (which Dayson called an 'immensikoff.') She +thought the master looked tired and worried. Supposing he fell ill at this +supreme juncture! The whole enterprise would be scotched, and not forty +Daysons could keep it going! The master was doing too much--law by day and +journalism by night. They were perhaps all doing too much, but the others +did not matter. Nevertheless, Mr. Cannon advanced to the table buoyant and +faintly smiling, straightening his shoulders back, proudly proving to +himself and to them that his individual force was inexhaustible. That +straightening of the shoulders always affected Hilda as something wistful, +as almost pathetic in its confident boyishness. It made her feel maternal +and say to herself (but not in words) with a sort of maternal superiority: +"How brave he is, poor thing!" Yes, in her heart she would apply the +epithet 'poor thing' to this grand creature whose superiority she +acknowledged with more fervour than anybody. As for the undaunted +straightening of the shoulders, she adopted it, and after a time it grew to +be a characteristic gesture with her.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Mr. Cannon greeted them.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Arthur Dayson, with a factitious air of treating him as an +equal, "I've been round to Bennions and made it clear to him that if he +can't guarantee to run off a maximum of two thousand of an eight-page sheet +we shall have to try Clayhanger at Bursley, even if it's the last +minute."</p> + +<p>"What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"Grunted."</p> + +<p>"I shall risk two thousand, any way."</p> + +<p>"Paper delivered, governor?" Dayson asked in a low voice, leering +pawkily, as though to indicate that he was a man who could be trusted to +think of everything.</p> + +<p>"Will be to-morrow, I think," said Mr. Cannon. "Got that letter ready, +Miss Lessways?"</p> + +<p>Hilda sprang into life.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, handing it diffidently. "But if you'd like me to do it +again--you see it's--"</p> + +<p>"Plethora of H<sub>2</sub>O," Dayson put in, indulgent.</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" Mr. Cannon decided. Having read the letter, he gave it to +Dayson. "It doesn't matter, but you ought to have signed it before it was +copied in the letter-book."</p> + +<p>"Gemini! Miss!" murmured Dayson, glancing at Hilda with uplifted +brows.</p> + +<p>The fact was that both of them had forgotten this formality. Dayson took +a pen, and after describing a few flourishes in the air, about a quarter of +an inch above the level of the paper, he magnificently signed: "Dayson +& Co." Such was the title of the proprietorship. Just as Karkeek was +Mr. Cannon's dummy in the law, so was Dayson in the newspaper business. But +whereas Karkeek was privately ashamed, Dayson was proud of his rôle, +which gave him the illusion of power and glory.</p> + +<p>"Just take this down, will you?" said Mr. Cannon.</p> + +<p>Hilda grasped at her notebook and seized a pencil, and then held herself +tense to receive the message, staring downwards at the blank page. Dayson +lolled in his chair, throwing his head back. He knew that the presence of +himself, the great shorthand expert, made Hilda nervous when she had to +write from dictation; and this flattered his simple vanity. Hilda hated and +condemned her nervousness, but she could not conquer it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cannon, standing over the table, pushed his hat away from his broad, +shining forehead, and then, meditative, absently lifted higher his +carefully tended hand and lowered the singing gas-jet, only to raise it +again.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ezra Brunt. Dear Sir, Re advertisement. With reference to your +letter replying to ours in which you inquire as to the circulation of the +above newspaper, we beg to state that it is our intention to print four +thousand of--"</p> + +<p>"Two thousand," Hilda interrupted confidently.</p> + +<p>Unruffled, Mr. Cannon went on politely: "No--four thousand of the first +number. Our representative would be pleased to call upon you by +appointment. Respectfully yours.--You might sign that, Dayson, and get it +off to-night. Is Sowter here?"</p> + +<p>For answer, Dayson jerked his head towards an inner door. Sowter was the +old clerk who had first received Hilda into the offices of Mr. Q. Karkeek. +He was earning a little extra money by clerical work at nights in +connection with the advertisement department of the new organ.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cannon marched to the inner door and opened it. Then he turned and +called:</p> + +<p>"Dayson--a moment."</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Dayson, jumping up. He planted his hat doggishly at +the back of his head, stuck his hands into his pockets, and swaggered after +his employer.</p> + +<p>The inner door closed on the three men. Hilda, staring at the notebook, +blushing and nibbling at the pencil, was left alone under the gas. She +could feel her heart beating violently.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c8">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> JANET ORGREAVE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>"Our friend is waiting for that letter to Brunt," said Arthur Dayson, +emerging from the inner room, a little later.</p> + +<p>"In one moment," Hilda replied coldly, though she had not begun to write +the letter.</p> + +<p>Dayson disappeared, nodding.</p> + +<p>She resented his referring to Mr. Cannon as 'our friend,' but she did +not know why, unless it was that she vaguely regarded it as presumptuous, +or, in the alternative, if he meant to be facetious, as ill-bred, on the +part of Arthur Dayson. She chose a sheet of paper, and wrote the letter in +longhand, as quickly as she could, but with arduous care in the formation +of every character; she wrote with the whole of her faculties fully +applied. Even in the smallest task she could not economize herself; she had +to give all or nothing. When she came to the figures--4000--she intensified +her ardour, lavishing enormous unnecessary force: it was like a steamhammer +cracking a nut. Her conscience had instantly and finally decided against +her. But she ignored her conscience. She knew and owned that she was wrong +to abet Mr. Cannon's deception. And she abetted it. She would have abetted +it if she had believed that the act would involve her in everlasting +damnation,--not solely out of loyalty to Mr. Cannon; only a little out of +loyalty; chiefly out of mere unreasoning pride and obstinate adherence to a +decision.</p> + +<p>The letter finished, she took it into the inner room, where the three +men sat in mysterious conclave. Mr. Cannon read it over, and then Arthur +Dayson borrowed the old clerk's vile pen and with the ceremonious delays +due to his sense of his own importance, flourishingly added the +signature.</p> + +<p>When she came forth she heard a knock at the outer door.</p> + +<p>"Come in," she commanded defiantly, for she was still unconsciously in +the defiant mood in which she had offered the lying letter to Mr. +Cannon.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>A well-dressed, kind-featured, and almost beautiful young woman, of +about the same age as Hilda, opened the door, with a charming gesture of +diffidence.</p> + +<p>For a second the two gazed at each other astounded.</p> + +<p>"Well, Hilda, of all the--"</p> + +<p>"Janet!"</p> + +<p>It was an old schoolfellow, Janet Orgreave, daughter of Osmond Orgreave, +a successful architect at Bursley. Janet had passed part of her schooldays +at Chetwynd's; and with her brother Charlie she had also attended Sarah +Gailey's private dancing-class (famous throughout Turnhill, Bursley, and +Hanbridge) at the same time as Hilda. She was known, she was almost +notorious, as a universal favourite. By instinct, without taking thought, +she pleased everybody, great and small. Nature had spoiled her, endowing +her with some beauty, and undeniable elegance, and abundant sincere +kindliness. She had only to smile, and she made a friend; it cost her +nothing. She smiled now, and produced the illusion, not merely in Hilda but +in herself also, that her pleasure in this very astonishing encounter was +quite peculiarly poignant.</p> + +<p>They shook hands, as women of the world.</p> + +<p>"Did you know I was here?" Hilda questioned, characteristically on her +guard, with a nervous girlish movement of the leg that perhaps sinned +against the code of authentic worldliness.</p> + +<p>"No indeed!" exclaimed Janet.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am! I'm engaged here."</p> + +<p>"How splendid of you!" said Janet enthusiastically, with no suggestion +whatever in her tone that Hilda's situation was odd, or of dubious +propriety, or aught but enviable.</p> + +<p>But Hilda surveyed her with secret envy, transient yet real. In the +half-dozen years that had passed since the days of the dancing-class, Janet +had matured. She was now the finished product. She had the charm of her +sex, and she depended on it. She had grace and an overflowing goodness. She +had a smooth ease of manner. She was dignified. And, with her furs, and her +expensive veil protecting those bright apple-red cheeks, and all the +studied minor details of her costume, she was admirably and luxuriously +attired. She was the usual, as distinguished from the unusual, woman, +brought to perfection. She represented no revolt against established +custom. Doubts and longings did not beset her. She was content within her +sphere: a destined queen of the home. And yet she could not be accused of +being old-fashioned. None would dare to despise her. She was what Hilda +could never be, had never long desired to be. She was what Hilda had +definitely renounced being. And there stood Hilda, immature, graceless, +harsh, inelegant, dowdy, holding the letter between her inky fingers, in +the midst of all that hard masculine mess,--and a part of it, the blindly +devoted subaltern, who could expect none of the ritual of homage given to +women, who must sit and work and stand and strain and say 'yes,' and +pretend stiffly that she was a sound, serviceable, thick-skinned imitation +man among men! If Hilda had been a valkyrie or a saint she might have felt +no envy and no pang. But she was a woman. Self-pity shot through her +tremendous pride; and the lancinating stab made her inattentive even to her +curiosity concerning the purpose of Janet's visit.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>"I came to see Mr. Cannon," said Janet. "The housekeeper downstairs told +me he was here somewhere."</p> + +<p>"He's engaged," answered Hilda in a low voice, with the devotee's +instinct to surround her superior with mystery.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" murmured Janet, checked.</p> + +<p>Hilda wondered furiously what she could be wanting with Mr. Cannon.</p> + +<p>Janet recommenced: "It's really about Miss Gailey, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes--what?"</p> + +<p>Hilda nodded eagerly, speaking in a tone still lower and more +careful.</p> + +<p>Janet dropped her voice accordingly: "She's Mr. Cannon's sister, of +course?"</p> + +<p>"Half-sister."</p> + +<p>"I mean. I've just come away from seeing her." She hesitated. "I only +heard by accident. So I came over with father. He had to come to a meeting +of the Guardians here, or something. They've quarrelled, haven't they?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Miss Gailey and Mr. Cannon? Well, you see, she quarrels with every +one." Hilda appeared to defend Mr. Cannon.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid she does, poor thing!"</p> + +<p>"She quarrelled with mother."</p> + +<p>"Really! when was that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Years and years ago! I don't know when. I was always surprised +mother let me go to the class."</p> + +<p>"It was very nice of your mother," said Janet, appreciative.</p> + +<p>"Is she in trouble?" Hilda asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid she is."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>Janet suddenly gave a gesture of intimacy. "I believe she's +starving!"</p> + +<p>"Starving!" Hilda repeated in a blank whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do! I do really believe she hasn't got enough to eat. She's +quarrelled with just about everybody there was to quarrel with. She suffers +fearfully with rheumatism. She never goes out --or scarcely ever. You know +her dancing-classes have all fallen away to nothing. I fancy she tried +taking lodgers--"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she did. I understood she was very good at housekeeping."</p> + +<p>"She hasn't got any lodgers now. There she is, all alone in that house, +and--"</p> + +<p>"But she can't be <i>starving</i>!" Hilda protested. At intervals she +glanced at the inner door, alarmed.</p> + +<p>"I really think she is," Janet persisted, softly persuasive.</p> + +<p>"But what's to be done?"</p> + +<p>"That's the point. I've just seen her. I went on purpose, because I'd +heard.... But I had to pretend all sorts of things to make an excuse for +myself. I couldn't offer her anything, could I? Isn't it dreadful?"</p> + +<p>They were much worried, these two young maids, full of health and vigour +and faith, and pride and simplicity, by this startling first glimpse into +one of the nether realities of existence. And they loyally tried to feel +more worried than they actually were; they did their best, out of sympathy, +to moderate the leaping, joyous vitality that was in them,--and did not +succeed very well. They were fine, they were touching--but they were also +rather deliciously amusing--as they concentrated all their resources of +solemnity and of worldly experience on the tragic case of the woman whom +life had defeated. Hilda's memory rushed strangely to Victor Hugo. She was +experiencing the same utter desolation--but somehow less noble--as had +gripped her when she first realized the eternal picture, in <i>Oceana +Nox</i>, of the pale-fronted widows who, tired of waiting for those whose +barque had never returned out of the tempest, talked quietly among +themselves of the lost--stirring the cinders in the fireplace and in their +hearts.... Yet Sarah Gailey was not even a widow. She was an ageing +dancing-mistress. She had once taught the grace of rhythmic movement to +young limbs; and now she was rheumatic.</p> + +<p>"Nobody but Mr. Cannon can do anything," Janet murmured.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he hasn't the slightest idea--not the slightest!" said Hilda +half defensively. But she was saying to herself: "This man made me write a +lie, and now I hear that his sister is starving--in the same town!" And she +thought of his glossy opulence. "I'm quite sure of <i>that</i>!" she +repeated to Janet.</p> + +<p>"Oh! So am I!" Janet eagerly concurred. "That's why I came.... Somebody +had to give him a hint.... I never dreamt of finding you, dear!"</p> + +<p>"It is strange, isn't it?" said Hilda, the wondrous romance of things +seizing her. Seen afresh, through the eyes of this charming, sympathetic +acquaintance, was not Mr. Cannon's originality in engaging her positively +astounding?</p> + +<p>"I suppose <i>you</i> couldn't give him a hint?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll tell him," said Hilda. "Of course!" In spite of herself she +was assuming a certain proprietorship in Mr. Cannon.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad!" Janet replied. "It is good of you!"</p> + +<p>"It seems to me it's you that's good, Janet," Hilda said grimly. She +thought: "Should <i>I</i>, out of simple kindliness and charity, have +deliberately come to tell a man I didn't know... that his sister was +starving? Never!"</p> + +<p>"He's bound to see after it!" said Janet, content.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course!" said Hilda, clinching the affair, in an intimate, +confidential murmur.</p> + +<p>"You'll tell him to-night?"</p> + +<p>Hilda nodded.</p> + +<p>They exchanged a grave glance of mutual appreciation and understanding. +Each was sure of the other's high esteem. Each was glad that chance had +brought about the meeting between them. Then they lifted away their +apprehensive solicitude for Sarah Gailey, and Janet, having sighed relief, +began to talk about old times. And their voices grew louder and more +free.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me what time it is?" Janet asked, later. "I've broken the +spring of my watch, and I have to meet father at the station at +ten-fifteen."</p> + +<p>"I haven't a notion!" said Hilda, rather ashamed.</p> + +<p>"I hope it isn't ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"I could ask," said Hilda hesitatingly. The hour, for aught she knew, +was nine, eleven, or even midnight. She was oblivious of time.</p> + +<p>"I'll run," said Janet, preparing to go. "I shall tell Charlie I've seen +you, next time I write to him. I'm sure he'll be glad. And you must come to +see us. You really must, now! Mother and father will be delighted. Do you +still recite, like you used to?"</p> + +<p>Hilda shook her head, blushing.</p> + +<p>She made no definite response to the invitation, which surprised, +agitated, and flattered her. She wanted to accept it, but she was convinced +that she never would accept it. Before departing, Janet lifted her veil, +with a beautiful gesture, and offered her lips to kiss. They embraced +affectionately. The next moment Hilda, at the top of the dim, naked, +resounding stair, was watching Janet descend--a figure infinitely stylish +and agreeable to the eye.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c9">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> IN THE STREET</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>A few minutes later, just as Hilda had sealed up the last of the +letters, Mr. Cannon issued somewhat hurriedly out of the inner room, +buttoning his overcoat at the neck.</p> + +<p>"Good night," he said, and took his stick from the corner where he had +placed it.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cannon!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"What is it? I'm in a hurry."</p> + +<p>She glanced at the inner door, which he had left open. From beyond that +door came the voices of Arthur Dayson and the old clerk; Hilda lacked the +courage to cross the length of the room and deliberately close it, and +though Mr. Cannon did not seem inclined to move, his eyes followed the +direction of hers and he must have divined her embarrassment. She knew not +what to do. A crisis seemed to rise up monstrous between them, in an +instant. She was trembling, and in acute trouble.</p> + +<p>"It's rather important," she said timidly, but not without an +unintentional violence.</p> + +<p>"Well, to-morrow afternoon."</p> + +<p>He, too, was apparently in a fractious state. The situation was perhaps +perilous. But she could not allow her conduct to be influenced by danger or +difficulty, which indeed nearly always had the effect of confirming her +purpose. If something had to be done, it had to be done--and let that +suffice! He waited, impatient, for her to agree and allow him to go.</p> + +<p>"No," she answered, with positive resentment in her clear voice. "I must +speak to you to-night. It's very important."</p> + +<p>He made with his tongue an inarticulate noise of controlled +exasperation.</p> + +<p>"If you've finished, put your things on and walk along with me," he +said.</p> + +<p>She hurried to obey, and overtook him as he slowly descended the lower +flight of stairs. She had buttoned her jacket and knotted her thick scarf, +and now, with the letters pressed tightly under her arm lest they should +fall, she was pulling on her gloves.</p> + +<p>"I have an appointment at the Saracen's," he said mildly, meaning the +Saracen's Head--the central rendezvous of the town, where Conservative and +Liberal met on neutral ground.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>He turned to the left, toward the High Street and the great cleared +space out of which the cellarage of the new Town Hall had already been +scooped. He carried his thick gloves in his white and elegant hand, as one +who did not feel the frost. She stepped after him. Their breaths whitened +the keen air. She was extremely afraid, and considered herself an abject +coward, but she was determined to the point of desperation. He ought to +know the truth and he ought to know it at once: nothing else mattered. She +reflected in her terror: "If I don't begin right off, he will be asking me +to begin, and that will be worse than ever." She was like one who, having +boastfully undertaken to plunge into deep, cold water from a height, has +climbed to the height, and measured the fearful distance, and is sick, and +dares not leap, but knows that he must leap.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know Miss Gailey is practically starving," she said +abruptly, harshly, staring at the gutter.</p> + +<p>She had leapt. Life seemed to leave her. She had not intended to use +such words, nor such a tone. She certainly did not suppose that he knew +about Miss Gailey's condition. She had affirmed to Janet Orgreave her +absolute assurance that he did not know. As for the tone, it was accusing, +it was brutal, it was full of the unconscious and terrible clumsy cruelty +of youth.</p> + +<p>"What?" His head moved sharply sideways, to look at her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gailey--she's starving, it seems!" Hilda said timidly now, almost +apologetically. "I felt sure you didn't know. I thought <i>some</i> one +should tell you."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean--starving?" he asked gruffly.</p> + +<p>"Not enough to eat," she replied, with the direct simplicity of a +child.</p> + +<p>"And how did this tale get about?"</p> + +<p>"It's true," she said. "I was told to-night."</p> + +<p>"Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine--who's seen her!"</p> + +<p>"But who?"</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be right for me to tell you who."</p> + +<p>They walked on in an appalling silence to the corner of the Square and +the High Street.</p> + +<p>"Here's the letter-box," he said, stopping.</p> + +<p>She dropped the letters with nervous haste into the box. Then she looked +up at him appealingly. In the brightness of the starry night she saw that +his face had a sardonic, meditative smile. The middle part of the lower lip +was pushed out, while the corners were pulled down--an expression of +scornful disgust. She burst out:</p> + +<p>"Of course, I know very well it's not your fault. I know, if you'd +<i>known</i>... but what with her never seeing you, and perhaps people not +caring to--"</p> + +<p>"I'm very much obliged to you," he interrupted her quietly, still +meditative. He was evidently sincere. His attitude was dignified. Many men +would have been ashamed, humiliated, even though aware of innocence. But he +contrived to rise above such weakness. She was glad; she admired him. And +she was very glad also that he did not deign to asseverate that he had been +ignorant of his half-sister's plight. Naturally he had been ignorant!</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>She was suddenly happy; she was inspired by an unreasoning joy. She was +happy because she was so young and fragile and inexperienced, and he so +much older, and more powerful and more capable. She was happy because she +was a mere girl and he a mature and important male. She thought their +relation in that moment exquisitely beautiful. She was happy because she +had been exceedingly afraid and the fear had gone. The dark Square and +far-stretching streets lay placid and void under the night, surrounding +their silence in a larger silence: and because of that also she was happy. +A policeman with his arms hidden under his cloak marched unhasting +downwards from the direction of the Bank.</p> + +<p>"Fine night, officer," said Mr. Cannon cordially.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Good night, sir," the policeman responded, with respect and +sturdy self-respect, his footsteps ringing onwards.</p> + +<p>And the sight and bearing of this hardy, frost-defying policeman +watching over the town, and the greetings between him and Mr. Cannon--these +too seemed strangely beautiful to Hilda. And then a train reverberated +along its embankment in the distance, and the gliding procession of yellow +windows was divided at regular intervals by the black silhouettes of the +scaffolding-poles of the new Town Hall. Beautiful! She was filled with a +delicious sadness. It was Janet's train. In some first-class compartment +Janet and her father were shut together, side by side, intimate, mutually +understanding. Again, a beautiful relation! From the summit of a high kiln +in the middle distance, flames shot intermittently forth, formidable. +Crockery was being fired in the night: and unseen the fireman somewhere +flitted about the mouths of the kiln. And here and there in the dim faces +of the streets a window shone golden... there were living people behind the +blind! It was all beautiful, joy-giving. The thought of her mother +fidgeting for her return home was delightful. The thought of Mr. Cannon and +Miss Gailey, separated during many years, and now destined to some kind of +reconciliation was indescribably touching, and beautiful in a way that she +could not define.</p> + +<p>"I was only thinking the other day," said Mr. Cannon, treating her as an +equal in years and wisdom--"I was only thinking I'd got the very thing for +my half-sister--the very opening for her--a chance in a thousand, if only +she'd..." It was unnecessary for him to finish the sentence.</p> + +<p>"And is it too late now?" Hilda asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"No," he said. "It isn't too late. I shall go round and see her +to-morrow morning first thing. It wouldn't do for me to go to-night--you +see--might seem too odd."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Hilda murmured. "Well, good night."</p> + +<p>They separated. She knew that he was profoundly stirred. Nevertheless, +he had inquired for no further details concerning Miss Gailey. He was too +proud, and beneath his inflexibility too sensitive, to do so. He meant to +discover the truth for himself. He had believed--that was the essential. +His behaviour had been superb. The lying letter to Ezra Brunt was a mere +peccadillo, even if it was that, even if it was not actually virtuous.</p> + +<p>She walked off rapidly, trying to imitate the fine, free, calmly defiant +bearing of Mr. Cannon and the policeman.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>"Florrie gone to bed?" she asked briskly of her mother, who was fussing +about her in the parlour, pretending to be fretful, but secretly enchanted +to welcome her, with a warm fire and plenteous food, back again into the +house. And Hilda, too, was enchanted at her reception.</p> + +<p>"Florrie gone to bed? I should just think Florrie has gone to bed. +Half-past ten and after! Eh my! This going out after tea. I never heard of +such doings. Now do warm your feet."</p> + +<p>"I should have been home sooner, only something happened," said +Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Mrs. Lessways exclaimed indifferently. She had in fact no +curiosity as to the affairs of Dayson and Company. The sole thing that +interested her was Hilda's daily absence and daily return. She seemed quite +content to remain in ignorance of what Hilda did in the mysterious office. +Her conversation, profuse when she was in good spirits, rarely went beyond +the trifling separate events of existence personal and domestic--the life +of the house hour by hour and minute by minute. It was often astounding to +Hilda that her mother never showed any sign of being weary of these topics, +nor any desire to discover other topics.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hilda. "Miss Gailey--"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways became instantly a different creature.</p> + +<p>"And does he know?" she asked blankly, when Hilda had informed her of +Janet's visit and news.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I told him--of course."</p> + +<p>"You?"</p> + +<p>"Well, somebody had to tell him," said Hilda, with an affectation of +carelessness. "So I told him myself."</p> + +<p>"And how did he take it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, how should he take it?" Hilda retorted largely. "He <i>had</i> to +take it! He was much obliged, and he said so."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways began to weep.</p> + +<p>"What ever's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I was only thinking of poor Sarah!" Mrs. Lessways answered the implied +rebuke of Hilda's brusque question. "I shall go and see her to-morrow +morning."</p> + +<p>"But, mother, don't you think you'd better wait?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lessways spoke up resolutely: "I shall go and see Sarah Gailey +to-morrow morning, and let that be understood! I don't need my daughter to +teach me when I ought to go and see my friends and when I oughtn't.... I +knew Sarah Gailey before your Mr. Cannon was born."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well! Very well!" Hilda soothed her lightly.</p> + +<p>"I shall tell Sarah Gailey she's got to reckon with me, whether she +wants to or not! That's what I shall tell Sarah Gailey!" Mrs. Lessways +wiped her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mother," Hilda asked, when they had gone upstairs, "did you wind the +clock?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I did," answered the culprit uncertainly from her bedroom +door.</p> + +<p>"Mother, how tiresome you are! Night before last you wouldn't let me +touch it. You said you preferred to do it yourself. And now I shall be +waiting for it to strike to-morrow morning, to get up--lend me that candle, +do!"</p> + +<p>She tripped down to the lobby gladly, and opened the big door of the +clock, and put her hand into the dark cavity and, grimacing, hauled up the +heavy weights. This forgetfulness of her mother's somehow increased her +extraordinary satisfaction with life. She remounted the shadowy stairs on +the wings of a pure and ingenuous elation.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c10">CHAPTER X</a><br /> MISS GAILEY IN DECLENSION</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Knowing whom she was to meet, Hilda came home to tea, on the next day +but one, with a demeanour whose characteristics were heightened by +nervousness. The weather was still colder, and she had tied the broad +ribbons of her small bonnet rather closely under her chin, the double bow a +little to the left. A knitted bodice over the dress and under the jacket +made the latter tighter than usual, so that the fur edges of it curved away +somewhat between the buttons, and all the upper part of the figure seemed +to be too strictly confined, while the petticoats surged out freely +beneath. A muff, brightly coloured to match the skirt and the bonnet and +her cheeks, completed the costume. She went into the house through the +garden and delicately stamped her feet on the lobby tiles, partly to warm +them and shake off a few bits of snow, and partly to announce clearly her +arrival. Then, just as she was, hands in muff, she entered the parlour. She +was tingling with keen, rosy life, and with the sense of youthful power. +She had the deep, unconscious conviction of the superiority of youth to +age. And there were the two older women, waiting for her, as it were on the +defensive, and as nervous as she!</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Miss Gailey," she said, with a kind and even very +cordial smile, and heartily shook the flaccid, rheumatic hand that was +primly held out to her. And yet in spite of herself, perhaps unknown to +herself, there was in her tone and her smile and her vigorous clasp +something which meant, "Poor old thing!" pityingly, indulgently, +scornfully.</p> + +<p>She had not spoken to Miss Gailey, and she had scarcely seen her, since +the days of the dancing-class. A woman who is in process of losing +everything but her pride can disappear from view as easily in a small town +as in a great city; her acquaintances will say to each other, "I haven't +met So-and-so lately. I wonder..." And curiosity will go no further. And in +a short time her invisibility will cease to excite any remark, except, "She +keeps herself to herself nowadays." To Hilda Miss Gailey appeared no older; +her brown hair had very little grey in it, and her skin was fairly smooth +and well-preserved. But she seemed curiously smaller, and less significant, +this woman who, with a certain pedagogic air, used to instruct girls in +grace and boys in gallantry, this woman who was regarded by all her pupils +as the authoritative source of correctness and ease in deportment. "Now, +Master Charles," Hilda could remember her saying, "will you ask me for the +next polka all over again, and try not to look as if you were doing me a +favour and were rather ashamed of yourself?" She had a tongue for the +sneaping of too casual boys, and girls also.</p> + +<p>And she spoke so correctly, as correctly as she performed the figures of +a dance! Hilda, who also spoke without the local peculiarities, had been +deprived of her Five Towns accent at Chetwynd's School, where the purest +Kensingtonian was inculcated; but Miss Gailey had lost hers in Kensington +itself--so rumour said--many years before. And now, in her declension, she +was still perfect of speech. But the authority and the importance were gone +in substance: only the shadow of them remained. She had now, indeed, a +manner half apologetic and half defiant, but timorously and weakly defiant. +Her head was restless with little nervous movements; her watery eyes seemed +to say: "Do not suppose that I am not as proud and independent as ever I +was, because I <i>am</i>. Look at my silk dress, and my polished boots, and +my smooth hair, and my hands! Can anyone find any trace of shabbiness in +<i>me</i>?" But beneath all this desperate bravery was the wistful +acknowledgment, continually-peeping out, that she had after all come down +in the world, albeit with a special personal dignity that none save she +could have kept.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The two women were seated at a splendid fire. Hilda, whose nervousness +was quickly vanishing, came between them to warm her hands that were +shining with cold, despite muff and gloves. "Here, mother!" she said +teasingly, putting the muff and gloves in her mother's lap.</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey rose with slow stiffness from her chair.</p> + +<p>"Now don't let this child disturb you, Sarah!" Mrs. Lessways +protested.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Caroline!" said Miss Gailey composedly. "I was only getting my +apron."</p> + +<p>From a reticule on the table she drew forth a small black satin apron on +which was embroidered in filoselle a spray of moss-roses. It was extremely +elegant--much more so than Mrs. Lessways'--though not in quite the latest +style of fashionable aprons; not being edible, it had probably been long +preserved in a wardrobe, on the chance of just such an occasion as this. +She adjusted the elastic round her thin waist, and sat down again. The +apron was a sign that she had come definitely to spend the whole evening. +It was a proof of the completeness of the reconciliation between the former +friends.</p> + +<p>As the conversation shifted from the immediate topic of the weather to +the great general question of cures for chilblains, Hilda wondered what had +passed between her mother and Miss Gailey, and whether her mother had +overcome by mere breezy force or by guile: which details she never learnt, +for Mrs. Lessways was very loyal to her former crony, and moreover she had +necessarily to support the honour of the older generation against the +younger. It seemed incredible to Hilda that this woman who sat with such +dignity and such gentility by her mother's fire was she who the day before +yesterday had been starving in the pride-imposed prison of her own house. +Could Miss Gailey have known that Hilda knew!... But Hilda knew that Miss +Gailey knew that she knew--and that others guessed! Such, however, was the +sublime force of convention that the universal pretence of ignorance +securely triumphed.</p> + +<p>Then Florrie--changed, grown, budded, practised in the technicalities of +parlours, but timid because of "company"--came in to set the tea. And Miss +Gailey inspected her with the calm and omniscient detachment of a deity, +and said to Caroline when she was gone that Florrie seemed a promising +little thing--with the 'makings of a good servant' in her. Afterwards the +mistress recounted this judgment to Florrie, who was thereby apparently +much impressed and encouraged in well-doing.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>"And so you're thinking of going to London, Miss Gailey?" said Hilda, +during tea. The meal was progressing satisfactorily, though Caroline could +not persuade Sarah to eat enough.</p> + +<p>Miss Gailey flushed slightly, with the characteristic nervous movement +of the head. Evidently her sensitiveness was extreme.</p> + +<p>"And what do you know about it, you inquisitive little puss?" Mrs. +Lessways intervened hastily, though it was she who had informed Hilda of +the vague project. Somehow, in presence of her old friend, Mrs. Lessways +seemed to feel herself under an obligation to play the assertive and +crushing mother.</p> + +<p>"Has Mr. Cannon mentioned it?" said Miss Gailey politely. Miss Gailey, +at any rate, recognized in the most scrupulous way that Hilda was an adult, +and no longer a foal-legged pupil for dancing. "Well, he seems so set on +it. He came round to see me about it yesterday morning, without any +warning. And he was full of it! I told you how full he was of it, didn't I, +Caroline? You know how he is when anything takes him."</p> + +<p>"Do I know how he is?" murmured Caroline, arching her eyebrows. She +spoke much more broadly than either of the others.</p> + +<p>Miss Gailey continued to Hilda, with seriousness: "It's a boarding-house +that he's got control of up there. Something about a bill of sale on the +furniture, I think. But perhaps you know?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Miss Gailey, relieved. "Well, anyhow he's bent on me taking +charge of this boarding-house. He will have it it's just the thing for me. +But--but I don't know!" She finished weakly.</p> + +<p>"Everyone knows you're a splendid housekeeper," said Mrs. Lessways. +"Always were."</p> + +<p>"I remember the refreshments at your annual dances," said Hilda, +politely enthusiastic.</p> + +<p>"I always attended to those myself," Miss Gailey judicially +observed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about refreshments at dances," said Mrs. +Lessways, "but I do know what your housekeeping is, Sarah!"</p> + +<p>"Well, that's what George says!" Sarah simpered. "He says he never had +such meals and such attention as that year he lived with me."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he's been sorry many a time he ever left you!" exclaimed +Caroline. "Many and many a time!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, well.... Relatives, you know...." Sarah murmured vaguely. This was +the only reference to the estrangement. She went on with more vivacity. +"And then Mr. Cannon has always had ideas about boarding-houses and +furnished rooms and so on. He always did say there was lots of money to be +made out of them if only they were managed properly; only they never +are.... He ought to know; he's been a bachelor long enough, and he's tried +enough of them! He says he isn't at all comfortable where he is," she +added, as it were aside to Caroline. "It's some people who used to let +lodgings to theatre people at Hanbridge."</p> + +<p>"Oh! <i>Them</i>!" cried Caroline.</p> + +<p>The talk meandered into a maze of reminiscences, and Hilda had to +realize her youthfulness and the very inferior range of her experience: +Sarah and Caroline recalled to each other dozens of persons and events, +opening up historical vistas in a manner that filled the young girl with +envious respect, in spite of herself.</p> + +<p>"Do you remember Hanbridge Theatre being built, Sarah?" questioned +Caroline. "My grandfather--Hilda's great-grandfather--tendered for it--not +that he got the job--but he was very old."</p> + +<p>"Did he now? No, I don't. But I dare say I was in London then."</p> + +<p>"I dare say that would be it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sarah, turning to Hilda once more, "that's just what Mr. +Cannon says. He says it isn't as if I didn't know what London is.... But +it's such a long time ago!" She glanced at Caroline as if for sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Come, come, Sarah!" Caroline protested stoutly, and yet with a care for +Sarah's sensitiveness. "It isn't so long ago as all that!"</p> + +<p>"It seems so long," said Sarah, reflective; and her mouth worked +uneasily. Then, after a pause: "He's so set on it!"</p> + +<p>"Set on what? On your going to London?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know whether I could--"</p> + +<p>"Paw!" scoffed Caroline lightly and flatteringly. "You're younger than I +am, and I'm not going to have anyone making out that I'm getting old. Now +do finish that bit of cake."</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Caroline. I really couldn't."</p> + +<p>"Not but what I should be sorry enough to lose you," Caroline concluded. +"There's no friends like the old friends."</p> + +<p>"Ah! No!" Sarah thickly muttered, gazing with her watery eyes at a spot +on the white diaper.</p> + +<p>"Hilda, do turn down that there gas a bit," said Mrs. Lessways sharply +and self-consciously. "It's fizzing." And she changed the subject.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>With a nervous exaggeration of solicitude Hilda sprang to the gas-jet. +Suddenly she was drenched in the most desolating sadness. She could not +bear to look at Miss Gailey; and further, Miss Gailey seemed unreal to her, +not an actual woman, but an abstract figure of sorrow that fancy had +created. A few minutes previously Hilda had been taking pride in the tact +and the enterprise of George Cannon, who possessed a mysterious gift of +finding an opportunity for everybody who needed it. He had set Hilda on her +feet; and he was doing the same for his half-sister, and with such skilful +diplomacy that Miss Gailey was able to pretend to herself and to others +that George Cannon, and not Sarah Gailey, was the obliged person. But now +Hilda saw Sarah Gailey afraid to go to London, and George Cannon pushing +her forward with all the ruthless strength of his enterprising spirit. And +the sight was extraordinarily, incomprehensibly tragic. Sarah Gailey's +timorous glance seemed to be saying: "I am terrified to go. It isn't beyond +my strength--it's beyond my spirit. But I shall have to go, and I shall +have to seem glad to go. And nobody can save me!"</p> + +<p>And Miss Gailey's excellent silk dress, and her fine apron, and her +primness and dignified manners, and her superb pretence of being undamaged +struck Hilda as intolerably pathetic--so that she was obliged to look away +lest she might weep at the sight of that pathos. Yes, it was a fact that +she could not bear to look! Nor could she bear to let her imagination roam +into Miss Gailey's immediate past! She said to herself: "Only yesterday +morning perhaps she didn't know where her next meal was coming from. He +must have managed somehow to give her some money. Only yesterday morning +perhaps she didn't know where her next meal--If I say that to myself once +more I shall burst out crying!" She balanced her spoon on her teacup and +let it fall.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Fidgety!" her mother commented, with good humour. And then +they all heard a knock at the front door.</p> + +<p>"Will Florrie have heard it?" Mrs. Lessways asked nervously. What she +meant was: "Who on earth can this be?" But such questions cannot be put in +the presence of a newly reconciled old friend. It was necessary to behave +as though knocks at the front door were a regular accompaniment of tea.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c11">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> DISILLUSION</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>The entrance of George Cannon into the parlour produced a tumult greatly +stimulating the vitality and the self-consciousness of all three women. +Sarah Gailey's excitement was expressed in flushing, and in characteristic +small futile movements of the head and hands, and in monosyllables that +conveyed naught except a vague but keen apprehension. Mrs. Lessways was +perturbed and somewhat apprehensive also; but she was flattered and +pleased. Hilda was frankly suspicious during the first moments. She guessed +that Mr. Cannon was aware of his sister's visit, and that he had come to +further his own purposes. He confirmed her idea by greeting his sister +without apparent surprise; but as, in response to Mrs. Lessways' +insistence, he took off his great overcoat, with those large, powerful +gestures which impress susceptible women and give pleasure even to the +indifferent, he said casually to Sarah Gailey, "I didn't expect to meet you +here, Sally. I've come to have a private word with Mrs. Lessways about +putting one of her Calder Street tenants on to the pavement." Sarah laughed +nervously and said that she would retire, and Mrs. Lessways said that Sarah +would do no such thing, and that she was very welcome to hear all that Mr. +Cannon might have to say concerning the Calder Street property.</p> + +<p>In a minute Mr. Cannon was resplendently sitting down to the table with +them, and rubbing his friendly hands, and admitting that he should not +refuse a cup of tea if pressed. And Hilda received her mother's sharp +instructions to get a cup and saucer from the sideboard and a spoon from +the drawer. She bore these to the table like a handmaid, but like a +delicate and superior handmaid, and it pleased her to constitute herself a +delicate and superior handmaid. Mr. Cannon sat next to her mother, and +Hilda put down the tinkling cup and saucer on the white cloth between them; +and as she did so Mr. Cannon turned and thanked her with a confidential +smile, to which she responded. They were not now employer and employee, but +exclusively in the social world; nevertheless, their business relations +made an intimacy which it was piquant to feel in the home. Moreover, Sarah +Gailey was opposite to them, and Hilda could not keep out of her dark eyes +the intelligence: "If she is here, if you are all amicable together, it is +due to me." Delicious and somehow perilous secret!... Going back to her +seat, she arranged more safely the vast overcoat which he had thrown +carelessly down on her mother's rocking-chair. It was inordinately heavy, +and would have outweighed a dozen of her skimpy little jackets; she, who +would have been lost in it like a cat in a rug, enjoyed the thought of the +force of the creature capable of wearing it lightly for a garment. Withal +the rough, soft surface of it was agreeable to the hand. Out of one of the +immense pockets hung the end of a coloured silk muffler, filmy as anything +that she herself wore.</p> + +<p>Then they were all definitely seated, and Mr. Cannon accepted his tea +from the hand of Mrs. Lessways. The whiteness of his linen, the new +smartness of his suit, the elegance and gallantry of his gestures--these +phenomena incited the women to a responsive emulation; they were something +which it was a feminine duty to live up to. Archness reigned, especially +between the hostess and the caller. Hilda answered to the mood. And Sarah +Gailey, though she said little and never finished a sentence, did her best +to answer to it by noddings and nervous appreciative smiles, and swift +turnings of the head from one to another. When Mr. Cannon and Mrs. +Lessways, in half a dozen serious words interjected among the archness, had +adversely settled the fate of a whole family in Calder Street, there +remained scarcely a trace, in the company's demeanour, of the shamed +consciousness that only two days before its members had been divided by +disastrous enmities and that one of them had lacked the means of life.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"Oh no! my dear girl! You're too modest--that's what's the matter with +you," said George Cannon eagerly to his half-sister. The epithet flattered +but did not allay her timidity. To Hilda it seemed mysteriously +romantic.</p> + +<p>The supreme topic had worked its way into the conversation. Uppermost in +the minds of all, it seemed to have forced itself out by its own intrinsic +energy, against the will of the company. Impossible to decide who first had +let it forth! But George Cannon had now fairly seized it and run off with +it. He was almost boyishly excited over it. The Latin strain in him +animated his features and his speech. He was a poet as he talked of the +boarding-house that awaited a mistress. He had pulled out of his pocket the +cutting of an advertisement of it from the London <i>Daily Telegraph</i>, a +paper that was never seen in Turnhill. And this bit of paper, describing in +four lines the advantages of the boarding-house, had the effect of giving +the actual house a symbolic reality. "There it is!" he exclaimed, slapping +down the paper. And there it appeared really to be. The bit of paper was +extraordinarily persuasive. It compelled everybody to realize, now for the +first time, that the house did in fact exist. George Cannon had an +overwhelming answer to all timorous objections. The boarding-house was +remunerative; boarders were at that very moment in it. The nominal +proprietor was not leaving it because he was losing money on the +boarding-house, but because he had lost money in another enterprise quite +foreign to it, and had pledged all the contents of the boarding-house as +security. The occasion was one in a thousand, one in a million. He, George +Cannon, through a client, had the entire marvellous affair between his +finger and thumb, and most obviously Sarah Gailey was the woman of all +women for the vacant post at his disposition. Chance was waiting on her. +She had nothing whatever to do but walk into the house as a regent into a +kingdom, and rule. Only, delay was impossible. All was possible except +delay. She would inevitably succeed; she could not fail. And it would be a +family affair....</p> + +<p>Tea was finished and forgotten.</p> + +<p>"For your own sake!" he wound up a peroration. "It really doesn't matter +to me.... Don't you agree with me, Mrs. Lessways?" His glance was a +homage.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you!" exclaimed Mrs. Lessways, smiling happily. "You've only got to +open your mouth, and you'd talk anybody into the middle of next week."</p> + +<p>"Mother!" Hilda mildly reproved. She was convinced now that Mr. Cannon +had come on purpose to clinch the affair.</p> + +<p>He laughed appreciatively.</p> + +<p>"But really! Seriously!" he insisted.</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Lessways, straightening her face, said, with slight +self-consciousness: "Oh, <i>I</i> think it's worth while considering!"</p> + +<p>"There you are!" cried Mr. Cannon to Miss Gailey.</p> + +<p>"I shall be all alone up there!" said Miss Gailey, as cheerfully as she +could.</p> + +<p>"I'll go up with you and see you into the place. I should have to come +back the same night--I'm so tremendously busy just now--what with the paper +and so on."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but--I quite admit all you say, George--but--"</p> + +<p>"Here's another idea," he broke out. "Why don't you ask Mrs. Lessways to +go up with you and stay a week or two? It would be a rare change for her, +and company for you."</p> + +<p>Miss Gailey looked quickly at her old friend.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Bless you!" said Mrs. Lessways. "I've only been to London once, and +that was only for two days--before Hilda was born. I should be no use in +London, at my time of life. I'm one of your home-stayers." Nevertheless it +was plain that the notion appealed to her fancy, and that she would enjoy +flirting with it.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Mrs. Lessways!" said George Cannon. "It would do you a world +of good, and it would make all the difference to Sally."</p> + +<p>"That it would!" Sarah agreed, still questioning Caroline with her +watery, appealing eyes. In Caroline, Sarah saw her salvation, and snatched +at it. Caroline could do nothing well; she had no excellence; all that +Caroline could do Sarah could do better. And yet Caroline, by the +mysterious virtue of her dry and yet genial shrewdness, and of the unstable +but reliable equilibrium of her temperament, was the skilled Sarah's +superior. They both knew it and felt it. The lofty Hilda admitted it. +Caroline herself negligently admitted it by a peculiar, brusque, unaffected +geniality of condescension towards Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Do go, mother!" said Hilda. To herself she had been saying: "Another of +his wonderful ideas!" The prospect of being alone in the house with +Florrie, of being free for a space to live her own life untrammelled and +throw all her ardour into her work, was inexpressibly attractive to Hilda. +It promised the most delicious experience that she had ever had.</p> + +<p>"Yes," retorted Mrs. Lessways. "And leave you here by yourself! A nice +thing!"</p> + +<p>"I shall be all right," said Hilda confidently and joyously. She was +sure that the excursion to London had appealed to her mother's latent love +of the unexpected, and that her faculty for accepting placidly whatever +fate offered would prevent her from resisting the pressure that Sarah +Gailey and Mr. Cannon would obviously exert.</p> + +<p>"Shall you!" Mrs. Lessways muttered.</p> + +<p>"Why not take your daughter with you, too?" Mr. Cannon suggested.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Hilda, shocked. "I couldn't possibly leave my work just +now.... The paper just coming out.... You couldn't spare me." She spoke +with pride, using phrases similar to those which he had used to explain to +Sarah Gailey why he could not remain with her in London even for a +night.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I could," he answered kindly, lightly, carelessly, +shattering--in his preoccupation with one idea--all her fine, loyal +pretensions. "We should manage all right."</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>She was hurt. She was mortally pierced. The blow was too cruel. She +lowered her glance before his, and fixed it on the table-cloth. Her brow +darkened. Her lower lip bulged out. She was the child again. He had with +atrocious inhumanity reduced her to the unimportance of a child. She had +bestowed on him and his interests the gift of her whole soul, and he had +said that it was negligible. And the worst was that he was perfectly +unaware of what he had done. He had not even observed the symptoms of her +face. He had turned at once to the older women and was continuing the +conversation. He had ridden over her, and ridden on without a look behind. +The conversation moved, after a pause, back to the plausible excuse for his +call. He desired to see some old rent-book which would show how the doomed +tenant in Calder Street had originally fallen into arrears.</p> + +<p>"Where is that old book of Mr. Skellorn's, Hilda?" her mother asked.</p> + +<p>She could not speak. The sob was at her throat. If she had spoken it +would have burst through, and she would have been not merely the child, but +the disgraced child.</p> + +<p>"Hilda!" repeated her mother.</p> + +<p>Her singular silence drew the attention of all. She blushed a sombre +scarlet. No! She could not speak. She cursed herself. "What a little fool I +am! Surely I can..." Useless! She could not speak. She took the one +desperate course open to her, and ran out of the room, to the astonishment +of three puzzled and rather frightened adults. Her shame was now notorious. +"Baby! Great baby!" she gnashed at her own inconceivable silliness. Had she +no pride?... And now she was in the gloom of the lobby, and she could hear +Florrie in the kitchen softly whistling.... She was out in the dark lobby +exactly like a foolish, passionate child.... She knew all the time that she +could easily persuade her mother to leave her alone with Florrie in the +house; she had levers to move her mother.... But of what use, now, to do +that?</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c12">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> THE TELEGRAM</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>It was the end of February 1880. A day resembling spring had come, +illusive, but exquisite. Hilda, having started out too hurriedly for the +office after the midday dinner, had had to return home for a proof which +she had forgotten.</p> + +<p>She now had the house to herself, as a kingdom over which she reigned; +for, amid all her humiliation and pensive dejection, she had been able to +exert sufficient harsh force to drive her mother to London in company with +Miss Gailey. She was alone, free; and she tasted her freedom to the point +of ecstasy. She conned corrected proofs at her meals: this was life. When +Florrie came in with another dish, Hilda looked up impatiently from printed +matter, as if disturbed out of a dream, and Florrie put on an apologetic +air, to invoke pardon. It was largely pretence on Hilda's part, but it was +life. Then she had the delicious anxiety of being responsible for Florrie. +"Now, Florrie, I'm going out to-night, to see Miss Orgreave at Bleakridge. +I shall rely on you to go to bed not later than nine. I've got the key. +<i>I may not be back till the last train</i>." "Yes, miss!" And what with +Hilda's solemnity and Florrie's impressed eyes, the ten-forty-five was +transformed into a train that circulated in the dark and mysterious hour +just before cockcrow. Hilda, alone, was always appealing to Florrie's +loyalty. Sometimes when discreetly abolishing some old-fashioned, +work-increasing method of her mother's, she would speak to Florrie in a +tone of sudden, transient intimacy, raising her for a moment to the rank of +an intellectual equal as her voice hinted that her mother after all +belonged to the effete generation.</p> + +<p>Awkwardly, with her gloved hands, turning over the pages of a book in +which the slip-proof had been carelessly left hidden, Hilda, from her +bedroom, heard Florrie come whistling down the attic stairs. Florrie had +certainly heard nothing of her young mistress since the door-bang which had +signalled her departure for the office. In the delusion that she was +utterly solitary in the house, Florrie was whistling, not at all like a +modest young woman, but like a carter. Hilda knew that she could whistle, +and had several times indicated to her indirectly that whistling was +undesirable; but she had never heard her whistling as she whistled now. Her +first impulse was to rush out of the bedroom and 'catch' Florrie and make +her look foolish, but a sense of honour restrained her from a triumph so +mean, and she kept perfectly still. She heard Florrie run into her mother's +bedroom; and then she heard that voice, usually so timid, saying loudly, +exultantly, and even coarsely: "Oh! How beautiful I am! How beautiful I am! +Shan't I just mash the men! Shan't I just mash 'em!" This new and vulgar +word 'mash' offended Hilda.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>She crept noiselessly to the door, which was ajar, and looked forth like +a thief. The door of her mother's room was wide open, and across the +landing she could see Florrie posturing in front of the large mirror of the +wardrobe. The sight shocked her in a most peculiar manner. It was Florrie's +afternoon out, and the child was wearing, for the first time, an old brown +skirt that Hilda had abandoned to her. But in this long skirt she was no +more a child. Although scarcely yet fifteen years old, she was a grown +woman. She had astoundingly developed during her service with Mrs. +Lessways. She was scarcely less tall than Hilda, and she possessed a +sturdy, rounded figure which put Hilda's to shame. It was uncanny--the +precocity of the children of the poor! It was disturbing! On a chair lay +Florrie's new 'serviceable' cloak, and a cheap but sound bonnet: both +articles the fruit of a special journey with her aunt to Baines's drapery +shop at Bursley, where there was a small special sober department for +servants who were wise enough not to yield to the temptation of 'finery.' +Florrie, who at thirteen and a half had never been able to rattle one penny +against another, had since then earned some two thousand five hundred +pennies, and had clothed herself and put money aside and also poured a +shower of silver upon her clamorous family. Amazing feat! Amazing growth! +She seized the 'good' warm cloak and hid her poor old bodice beneath it, +and drew out her thick pig-tail, and shook it into position with a free +gesture of the head; and on the head she poised the bonnet, and tied the +ribbons under the delightful chin. And then, after a moment of hard +scrutiny, danced and whistled, and cried again: "How beautiful I am! How +pretty I am!"</p> + +<p>She was. She positively did not look a bit like a drudge. She was not +the Florrie of the kitchen and of the sack-apron, but a young, fledged +creature with bursting bosom who could trouble any man by the capricious +modesty of a gaze downcast. The miraculous skirt, odious on Hilda, had the +brightness of a new skirt. Her hands and arms were red and chapped, but her +face had bloomed perfect in the kitchen like a flower in a marl-pit. It was +a face that an ambitious girl could rely on. Its charm and the fluid charm +of her movements atoned a thousand times for all her barbaric ignorance and +crudity; the grime on her neck was naught.</p> + +<p>Hilda watched, intensely ashamed of this spying, but she could not bring +herself to withdraw. She was angry with Florrie; she was outraged. Then she +thought: "Why should I be angry? The fact is I'm being mother all over +again. After all, why shouldn't Florrie...?" And she was a little jealous +of Florrie, and a little envious of her, because Florrie had the +naturalness of a savage or of an animal, unsophisticated by ideals of +primness. Hilda was disconcerted at the discovery of Florrie as an +authentic young woman. Florrie, more than seven years her junior! She felt +experienced, and indulgent as the old are indulgent. For the first time in +her life she did honestly feel old. And she asked herself--half in dismay: +"Florrie has got thus far. Where am <i>I</i>? What am <i>I</i> doing?" It +was upsetting.</p> + +<p>At length Florrie took off the bonnet and ran upstairs, and shut the +door of her attic. Apparently she meant to improve the bonnet by some +touch. After waiting nervously a few moments, the aged Hilda slipped +silently downstairs, and through the kitchen, and so by the garden, where +with their feet in mire the hare trees were giving signs of hope under the +soft blue sky, into the street. Florrie would never know that she had been +watched.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Ten minutes later, when she went into the office of Dayson & Co., +Hilda was younger than ever. It was a young, fragile girl, despite the dark +frown of her intense seriousness, who with accustomed gestures poked the +stove, and hung bonnet and jacket on a nail and then sat down to the loaded +desk; it was an ingenuous girl absurdly but fiercely anxious to shoulder +the world's weight. She had passed a whole night in revolt against George +Cannon's indignity; she had called it, furiously, an insult. She had said +to herself: "Well, if I'm so useless as all that, I'll never go near his +office again." But the next afternoon she had appeared as usual at the +office, meek, modest, with a smile, fatigued and exquisitely resigned, and +a soft voice. And she had worked with even increased energy and devotion. +This kissing of the rod, this irrational instinctive humility, was a +strange and sweet experience for her. Such was the Hilda of the office; but +Hilda at home, cantankerous, obstinate, and rude, had offered a remarkable +contrast to her until the moment when it was decided that her mother should +accompany Miss Gailey to London. From that moment Hilda at home had been an +angel, and the Hilda of the office had shown some return of sturdy +pride.</p> + +<p>To-day the first number of <i>The Five Towns Chronicle</i> was to go to +press.... The delays had been inexplicable and exasperating to Hilda, +though she had not criticized them, even to herself; they were now over. +The town had no air of being excited about the appearance of its new paper. +But the office was excited. The very room itself looked feverish. It was +changed; more tables had been brought into it, and papers and litter had +accumulated enormously; it was a room humanized by habitation, with a +physiognomy that was individual and sympathetic.</p> + +<p>From beyond the closed door of the inner room came the sound of men's +rapid voices. Hilda could distinguish Mr. Cannon's and Arthur Dayson's; +there was a third, unfamiliar to her. Having nothing to do, she began to +make work, rearranging the contents of her table, fingering with a +factitious hurry the thick bundles of proofs of correspondence from the +villages (so energetically organized by the great Dayson), and the now +useless 'copy,' and the innumerable letters, that Dayson was always +disturbing, and the samples of encaustic tiles brought in by an inventor +who desired the powerful aid of the press, and the catalogues, and Dayson's +cuttings from the Manchester, Birmingham, and London papers, and the +notepaper and envelopes and cards, and Veale Chifferiel & Co.'s almanac +that had somehow come up with other matters from Mr. Karkeek's office +below. And then she dusted, with pursed lips that blamed the disgraceful +and yet excusable untidiness of men, and then she examined, with despair +and with pride, her dirty little hands, whose finger-tips all clustered +together (they were now like the hands of a nice, careless schoolboy), and +lightly dusted one against the other. Then she found a galley-proof under +the table. It was a duplicate proof of <i>The Five Towns Chronicle's</i> +leading article, dictated to her by a prodigious Arthur Dayson, in Mr. +Cannon's presence, on the previous day, and dealing faithfully with "The +Calder Street Scandal" and with Mr. Enville, a member of the Local +Board--implicated in the said scandal. The proof was useless now, for the +leader-page was made up. Nevertheless, Hilda carefully classified it "in +case..."</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>On a chair was <i>The Daily Telegraph</i>, which Dayson had evidently +been reading, for it was blue pencilled. Hilda too must read it; her duty +was to read it: Dayson had told her that she ought never to neglect the +chance of reading any newspaper whatever, and that a young woman in her +responsible situation could not possibly know too much. Which advice, +though it came from a person ridiculous to her, seemed sound enough, and +was in fact rather flattering. In the <i>Telegraph</i> she saw, between +Dayson's blue lines, an account of a terrible military disaster. She was +moved by it in different ways. It produced in her a grievous, horror-struck +desolation; but it also gave her an extraordinary sensation of fervid +pleasure. It was an item of news that would have to appear in the +<i>Chronicle</i>, and this would mean changes in the make-up, and work at +express speed, and similar delights. Already the paper was supposed to be +on the machine, though in fact, as she well knew, it was not. No doubt the +subject of discussion in the inner room was the disaster!... Yes, she was +acutely and happily excited. And always afterwards, when she heard or saw +the sinister word 'Majuba' (whose political associations never in the least +interested her), she would recall her contradictory, delicious feelings on +that dramatic afternoon.</p> + +<p>While she was busily cutting out the news from the <i>Telegraph</i> to +be ready for Arthur Dayson, there was a very timid knock at the door, and +Florrie entered, as into some formidable cabinet of tyrannic rulers.</p> + +<p>"If you please, miss--" she began to whisper.</p> + +<p>"Why, Florrie," Hilda exclaimed, "what have you put that old skirt on +for, when I've given you mine? I told you--"</p> + +<p>"I did put it on, miss. But there came a telegram. I told the boy you +were here, but he said that wasn't no affair of his, so I brought it +myself, and I thought you wouldn't care for to see me in your skirt, miss, +not while on duty, miss, 'specially here like! So I up quick and changed it +back."</p> + +<p>"Telegram?" Hilda repeated the word.</p> + +<p>Florrie, breathless after running and all this whispering, advanced in +the prettiest confusion towards the throne, and Hilda took the telegram +with a gesture as casual as she could manage. Florrie's abashed mien, and +the arrival of the telegram, stiffened her back and steadied her hand. +Imagine that infant being afraid of her, Hilda! This too was life! And the +murmur of the men in the inner room was thrilling to Hilda's ears.</p> + +<p>She brusquely opened the telegram and read: "Lessways, Lessways Street, +Turnhill. Mother ill. Can you come?--Gailey."</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c13">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> HILDA'S WORLD</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>The conversation in the inner room promised to be interminable. Hilda +could not decide what to do. She felt no real alarm on her mother's +account. Mrs. Lessways, often slightly indisposed, was never seriously ill; +she possessed one of those constitutions which do not go to extremes of +disease; if a malady overtook her, she invariably 'had' it in a mild form. +Doubtless Sarah Gailey, preoccupied and worried by new responsibilities, +desired to avoid the added care of nursing the sick. Hence the telegram. +Moreover, if the case had been grave, she would not have put the telegram +in the interrogative; she would have written, 'Please come at once.' No, +Hilda was not unduly disturbed. Nevertheless, she had an odd idea that she +ought to rush to the station and catch the next train, which left Knype at +five minutes to four; this idea did not spring from her own conscience, but +rather from the old-fashioned collective family conscience. But at a +quarter to four, when it was already too late to catch the local train at +Turnhill, the men had not emerged from the inner room; nor had Hilda come +to any decision. As the departure of her mother and Miss Gailey had +involved much solemn poring over time-tables, it happened that she knew the +times of all the trains to London; to catch the next and last she would +have to leave Turnhill at <i>5.55</i>. She said that she would wait and +see. Her work for the first number of the paper was practically done, but +there was this mysterious conclave which fretted her curiosity and +threatened exciting development; also the Majuba disaster would mean +trouble for somebody. And in any event she hated the very thought of +quitting Turnhill before the <i>Chronicle</i> was definitely out. She had +lived for the moment of its publication, and she could not bear to miss it. +She was almost angry with her mother; she was certainly angry with Miss +Gailey. All the egotism of the devotee in her was aroused and irate.</p> + +<p>Then the men came forth from the inner room, with a rather unexpected +suddenness. Mr. Cannon appeared first; and after him Mr. Enville; lastly +Arthur Dayson, papers in hand. Intimidated by the presence of the stranger, +Hilda affected to be busy at her table. Mr. Enville shook hands very +amicably with George Cannon, and instantly departed. As he passed down the +stairs she caught sight of him; he was a grizzled man of fifty, lean and +shabby, despite his reputation for riches. She knew that he was a candidate +for the supreme position of Chief Bailiff at the end of the year, and he +did not accord with her spectacular ideal of a Chief Bailiff; the actual +Chief Bailiff was a beautiful and picturesque old man, with perfectly +tended white whiskers, and always a flower in his coat. Further, she could +not reconcile this nearly effusive friendliness between Mr. Enville and Mr. +Cannon with the animadversions of the leading article which Arthur Dayson +had composed, and Mr. Cannon had approved, only twenty-four hours +earlier.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Cannon shut the door at the head of the stairs, she saw him give +a discreet, disdainful wink to Dayson. Then he turned sharply to Hilda, and +said, thoughtful and stern:</p> + +<p>"Your notebook, please."</p> + +<p>Bracing herself, and still full of pride in her ability to write this +mysterious shorthand, she opened her notebook, and waited with poised +pencil. The mien of the two men had communicated to her an excitement far +surpassing their own, in degree and in felicity. The whole of her vital +force was concentrated at the point of her pencil, and she seemed to be +saying to herself: "I'm very sorry, mother, but see how important this is! +I shall consider what I can do for you the very moment I am free."</p> + +<p>Arthur Dayson coughed and plumped heavily on a chair.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>It was in such moments as this that Dayson really lived, with all the +force of his mediocrity. George Cannon was not a journalist; he could +compose a letter, but he had not the trick of composing an article. He +felt, indeed, a negligent disdain for the people who possessed this trick, +as for performers in a circus; he certainly did not envy them, for he knew +that he could buy them, as a carpenter buys tools. His attitude was that of +the genuine bourgeois towards the artist: possessive, incurious, and +contemptuous. Dayson, however, ignored George Cannon's attitude, perhaps +did not even perceive what it was. He gloried in his performance. +Accustomed to dictate extempore speeches on any subject whatever to his +shorthand pupils, he was quite at his ease, quite master of his faculties, +and self-satisfaction seemed to stand out on his brow like genial sweat +while the banal phrases poured glibly from the cavern behind his jagged +teeth; and each phrase was a perfect model of provincial journalese. George +Cannon had to sit and listen,--to approve, or at worst to make tentative +suggestions.</p> + +<p>The first phrase which penetrated through the outer brain of the +shorthand writer to the secret fastness where Hilda sat in judgment on the +world was this:</p> + +<p>"The campaign of vulgar vilification inaugurated yesterday by our +contemporary <i>The Staffordshire Signal</i> against our esteemed +fellow-townsman Mr. Richard Enville..."</p> + +<p>This phrase came soon after such phrases as "Our first bow to the +public"... "Our solemn and bounden duty to the district which it is our +highest ambition to serve..." etc. Phrases which had already occurred in +the leading article dictated on the previous day.</p> + +<p>Hilda soon comprehended that in twenty-four hours Mr. Enville, from +being an unscrupulous speculator who had used his official position to make +illicit profits out of the sale of land to the town for town improvements, +had become the very mirror of honesty and high fidelity to the noblest +traditions of local government. Without understanding the situation, and +before even she had formulated to herself any criticism of the persons +concerned, she felt suddenly sick. She dared not look at George Cannon, but +once when she raised her head to await the flow of a period that had been +arrested at a laudatory superlative, she caught Dayson winking coarsely at +him. She hated Dayson for that; George Cannon might wink at Dayson (though +she regretted the condescending familiarity), but Dayson had no right to +presume to wink at George Cannon. She hoped that Mr. Cannon had silently +snubbed him.</p> + +<p>As the article proceeded there arose a crying from the Square below. A +<i>Signal</i> boy, one of the earliest to break the silent habit of the +Square, was bawling a fresh edition of Arthur Dayson's contemporary, and +across the web of the dictator's verbiage she could hear the words: "South +Africa--Details--" Mr. Cannon glanced at his watch impatiently. Hilda could +see, under her bent and frowning brow, his white hand moving on the dark +expanse of his waistcoat.</p> + +<p>Immediately afterwards Mr. Cannon, interrupting, said:</p> + +<p>"That'll be all right. Finish it. I must be off."</p> + +<p>"Right you are!" said Dayson grandly. "I'll run down with it to the +printer's myself--soon as it's copied."</p> + +<p>Mr. Cannon nodded. "And tell him we've got to be on the railway +bookstalls first thing to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"He'll never do it."</p> + +<p>"He must do it. I don't care if he works all night."</p> + +<p>"But--"</p> + +<p>"There hasn't got to be any 'buts,' Dayson. There's been a damned sight +too much delay as it is."</p> + +<p>"All right! All right!" Dayson placated him hastily.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cannon departed.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Hilda that she shivered, but whether with pain or pleasure +she knew not. Never before had Mr. Cannon sworn in her presence. All day +his manner had been peculiar, as though the strain of mysterious anxieties +was changing his spirit. And now he was gone, and she had said naught to +him about the telegram from Miss Gailey!</p> + +<p>Arthur Dayson rolled oratorically on in defence of the man whom +yesterday he had attacked.</p> + +<p>And then Sowter, the old clerk, entered.</p> + +<p>"What is it? Don't interrupt me!" snapped Dayson.</p> + +<p>"There's the <i>Signal</i>.... Latest details.... This here Majuba +business!"</p> + +<p>"What do I care about your Majuba?" Dayson retorted. "I've got something +more important than your Majuba."</p> + +<p>"It was the governor as told me to give it you," said Sowter, +restive.</p> + +<p>"Well, give it me, then; and don't waste my time!" Dayson held out an +imperial hand for the sheet. He looked at Hilda as if for moral support and +added, to her, in a martyred tone: "I suppose I shall have to dash off a +few lines about Sowter's Majuba while you're copying out my article."</p> + +<p>"And the governor said to remind you that Mr. Enville wants a proof of +his advertisement," Sowter called out sulkily as he was disappearing down +the stairs.</p> + +<p>Hilda blushed, as she had blushed in writing George Cannon's first lie +about the printing of the first issue. She had accustomed herself to lies, +and really without any difficulty or hesitation. Yes! She had even reached +the level of being religiously proud of them! But now her bullied and +crushed conscience leaped up again, and in the swift alarm of the shock her +heart was once more violently beating. Yet amid the wild confusion of her +feelings, a mechanical intelligence guided her hand to follow Arthur +Dayson's final sentences. And there shone out from her soul a contempt for +the miserable hack, so dazzling that it would have blinded him--had he not +been already blind.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>That evening she sat alone in the office. The first number of <i>The +Five Towns Chronicle</i>, after the most astounding adventures, had +miraculously gone to press. Dayson and Sowter had departed. There was no +reason why Hilda should remain,--burning gas to no purpose. She had +telegraphed, by favour of a Karkeek office-boy, to Miss Gailey, saying that +she would come by the first train on the morrow--Saturday, and she had +therefore much to do at home. Nevertheless, she sat idle in the office, +unable to leave. Her whole life was in that office, and it was just when +she was most weary of the environment that she would vacillate longest +before quitting it. She was unhappy and apprehensive, much less about her +mother than about the attitude of her conscience towards the morals of this +new world of hers. The dramatic Enville incident had spoiled the pleasure +which she had felt in sacrificing her formal duty as a daughter to her duty +as a clerk. She had been disillusioned. She foresaw the future with +alarm.</p> + +<p>And yet, strangely, the disillusion and the fear were a source of +pleasure. She savoured them with her loyalty, that loyalty which had +survived even the frightful blow of George Cannon's casual disdain at her +mother's tea-table! Whatever this new world might be, it was hers, it was +precious. She would no more think of abandoning it than a young mother +would think of abandoning a baby obviously imperfect.... Nay, she would +cling to it the tighter!</p> + +<p>George Cannon came up the stairs with his decisive and rapid step. She +rose from her chair at the table as he entered. He was wearing a new +overcoat, that she had never seen before, with a fine velvet collar.</p> + +<p>"You're going?" he asked, a little breathless.</p> + +<p>"I <i>was</i> going," she replied in her clear, timid voice, implying +that she was ready to stay.</p> + +<p>"Everything all right?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Dayson said so."</p> + +<p>"He's gone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Mr. Sowter's gone too."</p> + +<p>"Good!" he murmured. And he straightened his shoulders, and, putting his +hands in the pockets of his trousers, began to walk about the room.</p> + +<p>Hilda moved to get her bonnet and jacket. She moved very quietly and +delicately, and, because he was there, she put on her bonnet and jacket +with gestures of an almost apologetic modesty. He seemed to ignore her, so +that she was able to glance surreptitiously at his face. He was now +apparently less worried. Still, it was an enigmatic face. She had no notion +of what he had been doing since his hurried exit in the afternoon. He might +have been attending to his legal practice, or he might have been abroad on +mysterious errands.</p> + +<p>"Funny business, this newspaper business is, isn't it?" he remarked, +after a moment. "Just imagine Enville, now! Upon my soul I didn't think he +had it in him!... Of course,"--he threw his head up with a careless +laugh,--"of course, it would have been madness for us to miss such a +chance! He's one of the men of the future, in this town."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she agreed, in an eager whisper.</p> + +<p>In an instant George Cannon had completely changed the attitude of her +conscience,--by less than a phrase, by a mere intonation. In an instant he +had reassured her into perfect security. It was plain, from every accent of +his voice, that he had done nothing of which he thought he ought to be +ashamed. Business was business, and newspapers were newspapers; and the +simple truth was that her absurd conscience had been in the wrong. Her duty +was to accept the standards of her new world. Who was she? Nobody! She did +accept the standards of her new world, with fervour. She was proud of them, +actually proud of their apparent wickedness. She had accomplished an act of +faith. Her joy became intense, and shot glinting from her eyes as she put +on her gloves. Her life became grand to her. She knew she was known in the +town as 'the girl who could write shorthand.' Her situation was not +ordinary; it was unique. Again, the irregularity of the hours, and the fact +that the work never commenced till the afternoon, seemed to her romantic +and beautiful. Here she was, at nine o'clock, alone with George Cannon on +the second floor of the house! And who, gazing from the Square at the +lighted window, would guess that she and he were there alone?</p> + +<p>All the activities of newspaper production were poetized by her fervour. +The <i>Chronicle</i> was not a poor little weekly sheet, struggling into +existence anyhow, at haphazard, dependent on other newspapers for all +except purely local items of news. It was an organ! It was the courageous +rival of the ineffable <i>Signal</i>, its natural enemy! One day it would +trample on the <i>Signal</i>! And though her rôle was humble, though +she understood scarcely anything of the enterprise beyond her own duties, +yet she was very proud of her rôle too. And she was glad that the men +were seemingly so careless, so disorderly, so forgetful of details, so--in +a word--childish! For it was part of her rôle to remind them, to set +them right, to watch over their carelessness, to restore order where they +had left disorder. In so far as her rôle affected them, she +condescended to them.</p> + +<p>She informed George Cannon of her mother's indisposition, and that she +meant to go to London the next morning, and to return most probably in a +few days. He stopped in his walk, near her. Like herself, he was not +seriously concerned about Mrs. Lessways, but he showed a courteous +sympathy.</p> + +<p>"It's a good thing you didn't go to London when your mother went," he +said, after a little conversation.</p> + +<p>He did not add: "You've been indispensable." He had no air of +apologizing for his insult at the tea-table. But he looked firmly at her, +with a peculiar expression.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she felt all her slimness and fragility; she felt all the girl +in herself and all the dominant man in him, and all the empty space around +them. She went hot. Her sight became dim. She was ecstatically blissful; +she was deeply ashamed. She desired the experience to last for ever, and +him and herself to be eternally moveless; and at the same time she desired +to fly. Or rather, she had no desire to fly, but her voice and limbs acted +of themselves, against her volition.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, then."</p> + +<p>"But I say! Your wages. Shall I pay you now?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! It doesn't matter in the least, thanks."</p> + +<p>He shook hands with a careless, good-natured smile, which seemed to be +saying: "Foolish creature! You can't defend yourself, and these airs are +amusing. But I am benevolent." And she was ashamed of her shame, and +furious against the childishness that made her frown, and lower her eyes, +and escape out of the room like a mouse.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b1c14">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /> TO LONDON</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>In the middle of the night Hilda woke up, and within a few seconds she +convinced herself that her attitude to Miss Gailey's telegram had been +simply monstrous. She saw it, in the darkness, as an enormity. She ought to +have responded to the telegram at once; she ought to have gone to London by +the afternoon train. What had there been to prevent her from knocking at +the door of the inner room, and saying to Mr. Cannon, in the presence of no +matter whom: "I am very sorry, Mr. Cannon, but I've just had a telegram +that mother is ill in London, and I must leave by the next train"? There +had been nothing to prevent her! At latest she should have caught the +evening train. Business was of no account in such a crisis. Her mother +might be very ill, might be dying, might be dead. It was not for trifles +that people sent such telegrams. The astounding thing was that she should +have been so blind to her obvious duty.... And she said to herself, +thinking with a mysterious and beautiful remorse of the last minute of her +talk with Mr. Cannon: "If I had done as I ought to have done, I should have +been in London, or on my way to London, instead of in the room with him +there; and <i>that</i> would not have occurred!" But what 'that' was, she +could not have explained. Nevertheless, Mr. Cannon's phrase, "It's a good +thing you didn't go to London," still gave her a pleasure, though the +pleasure was dulled.</p> + +<p>Then she tried to reassure herself. Sarah Gailey was nervous and easily +frightened. Her mother had an excellent constitution. The notion of her +mother being seriously ill was silly. In a few hours she would be with her +mother, and would be laughing at these absurd night-fears. In any case +there would assuredly be a letter from Sarah Gailey by the first post, so +that before starting she would have exact information. She succeeded, +partially, in reassuring herself for a brief space; but soon she was more +unhappy than ever in the clear conviction of her wrongdoing. Again and +again she formulated, in her fancy, scenes of the immediate future, as for +example at her mother's dying bed, and she imagined conversations and +repeated the actual words used by herself and others, interminably. And +then she returned to the previous day, and hundreds of times she went into +the inner room and said to Mr. Cannon: "I'm very sorry, Mr. Cannon, but +I've just had a telegram--" etc. Why had she not said it?... Thus worked +the shuttles of her mind, with ruthless, insane insistence, until she knew +not whether she was awake or asleep, and the very tissues of her physical +brain seemed raw.</p> + +<p>She thought feebly: "If I got up and lighted the candle and walked +about, I should end this." But she could not rise. She was netted down to +the bed. And when she tried to soothe herself with other images--images of +delight--she found that they had lost their power. Undressing, a few hours +earlier, she had lived again, in exquisite and delicious alarm, through the +last minute of her talk with Mr. Cannon; she had gone to sleep while +reconstituting those instants. But now their memory left her indifferent, +even inspired repugnance. And her remorse little by little lost its +mysterious beauty.</p> + +<p>She clung to the idea of the reassuring letter which she would receive. +That was her sole glint of consolation.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>At six she was abroad in the house, intensely alive, intensely conscious +of every particle of her body, and of every tiniest operation of her mind. +In less than two hours the letter would drop into the lobby! At half-past +six both she and Florrie were dressed, and Florrie, stern with the +solemnity and importance of her mission, was setting forth to the Saracen's +Head to order a cab to be at the door at eight o'clock.</p> + +<p>Hilda had much to do, for it was of course necessary to shut up the +house, and the packing of her trunk had to be finished, and the trunk +locked and corded, and a label found; and there was breakfast to cook. Mrs. +Lessways would have easily passed a couple of days in preparing the house +for closure. Nevertheless, time, instead of flying, lagged. At seven-thirty +Hilda, in the partially dismantled parlour, and Florrie in the kitchen, +were sitting down to breakfast. "In a quarter of an hour," said Hilda to +herself, "the post will be here." But in four minutes she had eaten the +bacon and drunk the scalding tea, and in five she had carried all the +breakfast-things into the kitchen, where Florrie was loudly munching over +the sloppy deal table. She told Florrie sharply that there would be ample +time to wash up. Then she went to her bedroom, and, dragging out her trunk, +slid it unaided down the stairs. Back again in the bedroom, she carelessly +glanced at the money in her purse, and then put on her things for the +journey. Waiting, she stood at the window to look for the postman. +Presently she saw him in the distance; he approached quickly, but spent an +unendurable minute out of sight in the shop next door. When he emerged +Hilda was in anguish. Had he a letter for her? Had he not? He seemed to +waver at the gateway, and to decide to enter.... She heard the double blow +of his drumstick baton.... Now in a few seconds she would know about her +mother.</p> + +<p>Proudly restraining herself, she walked with composure to the stairs. +She was astonished to see Florrie bending down to pick up the letter. +Florrie must have been waiting ready to rush to the front door. As she +raised her body and caught sight of Hilda, Florrie blushed.</p> + +<p>The stairs were blocked by the trunk which Hilda had left on the +stair-mat for the cabman to deal with. Standing behind the trunk, Hilda +held forth her hand for the letter.</p> + +<p>"Please, miss, it's for me," Florrie whispered, like a criminal.</p> + +<p>"For you?" Hilda cried, startled.</p> + +<p>In proof Florrie timidly exposed the envelope, on which Hilda plainly +saw, in a coarse, scrawling masculine hand, the words "Miss Florrie +Bagster." Florrie's face was a burning peony.</p> + +<p>Hilda turned superciliously away, too proud to demand any explanations. +All her alarms were refreshed by the failure of a letter from Miss Gailey. +In vain she urged to herself that Miss Gailey had thought it unnecessary to +write, expecting to see her; or that the illness having passed, Miss +Gailey, busy, had put off writing. She could not dismiss a vision of a +boarding-house in London upset from top to bottom by the grave illness of +one person in it, and a distracted landlady who had not a moment even to +scribble a post card. And all the time, as this vision tore and desolated +her, she was thinking: "Fancy that child having a follower, at her age! +She's certainly got a follower!"</p> + +<p>The cab came five minutes before it was due.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>As the cab rolled through Market Square, where the Saturday stalls were +being busily set up, the ironmongery building was framed for an instant by +the oblong of the rattling window. Hilda seemed to see the place anew--for +the first time. A man was taking down the shutters of the shop. Above that +were the wire-blinds with the name of "Q. Karkeek"; and above the blinds +the blue posters of the <i>Five Towns Chronicle</i>. No outward sign of Mr. +Cannon! And yet Mr. Cannon.... She had an extremely disconcerting sensation +of the mysteriousness of Mr. Cannon, and of the mysteriousness of all +existence. Mr. Cannon existed somewhere at that moment, engaged in some +activity. In a house afar off, unknown to her, her mother existed--if she +was not dead! Florrie, with a bundle of personal goods on her lap, and +doubtless the letter in her bosom, sat impressed and subdued, opposite to +her in the shifting universe of the cab, which was moving away from the +empty and silent home. Florrie was being thrown back out of luxury into her +original hovel, and was accepting the stroke with the fatalism of the young +and of the poor. And one day Hilda and her mother and Florrie would be +united again in the home now deserted, whose heavy key was in the +traveller's satchel.... But would they?</p> + +<p>At the station there was a quarter of an hour to wait. Hilda dismissed +Florrie, with final injunctions, and followed her trunk to the bleak +platform. The old porter was very kind. She went to the little yellow +bookstall. There, under her hand, was a low pile of <i>The Five Towns +Chronicle.</i> Miracle! Miraculous George Cannon! She flushed with pride, +with a sense of ownership, as she took a penny from her purse to pay for a +copy.</p> + +<p>"It's th' new peeper," drawled the bookstall lad, with a most foolish +condescension towards the new paper.</p> + +<p>"Lout!" she addressed him in her heart. "If you knew whom you were +talking to--!"</p> + +<p>With what pride, masked by careful indifference, she would hand the copy +of the <i>Chronicle</i> to her mother! Her mother would exclaim "Bless us!" +and spend a day or two in conning the thing, making singular discoveries in +it at short intervals.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>It was not until she had reached Euston, and driven through a tumultuous +and shabby thoroughfare to King's Cross, and taken another ticket, and +installed herself in another train, that Hilda began to feel suddenly, like +an abyss opening beneath her strength, the lack of food. Meticulous in her +clerical duties, and in many minor mechanical details of her personal daily +existence, she was capable of singular negligences concerning matters which +the heroic part of her despised and which did not immediately bear on a +great purpose in hand. Thus, in her carelessness, she found herself with +less than two shillings in her pocket after paying for the ticket to +Hornsey. She thought, grimly resigned: "Never heed! I shall manage. In half +an hour I shall be there, and my anxiety will be at an end."</p> + +<p>The train, almost empty, waited forlornly in a forlorn and empty part of +the huge, resounding ochreish station. Then, without warning or signal, it +slipped off, as though casually, towards an undetermined goal. Often it ran +level with the roofs of vague, far-stretching acres of houses--houses vile +and frowsy, and smoking like pyres in the dank air. And always it travelled +on a platform of brick arches. Now and then the walled road received a +tributary that rounded subtly into it, and this tributary could be seen +curving away, on innumerable brick arches, through the chimneypots, and +losing itself in a dim horizon of gloom. At intervals a large, lifeless +station brought the train to a halt for a moment, and the march was +resumed. A clock at one of these stations said a quarter to two.</p> + +<p>Then the name of Hornsey quickened her apprehensive heart. As she +descended nervously from the train, her trunk was shot out from the guard's +van behind. She went and stood over it, until the last of a series of +kindly porters came along and touched his cap. When she asked for a cab, he +seemed doubtful whether a cab was available, and looked uncertainly along +the immense empty platform and across at other platforms. The train had +wandered away. She strove momentarily to understand the reason of these +great sleeping stations; but fatigue, emotional and physical, had robbed +her of all intelligent curiosity in the phenomena of the mysterious and +formidable city.</p> + +<p>Presently the porter threw the trunk on his shoulder and she trudged +after him up steps and over an iron bridge and down steps; and an express +whizzed like a flying shell through the station and vanished. And at a +wicket, in a ragged road, there actually stood a cab and a skeleton of a +horse between the shafts. The driver bounced up, enheartened at sight of +the trunk and the inexperienced, timid girl; but the horse did not stir in +its crooked coma.</p> + +<p>"What address, miss?" asked the cabman.</p> + +<p>"Cedars House, Harringay Park Road."</p> + +<p>The cabman paused in intense thought, and after a few seconds responded +cheerfully: "Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>The porter touched his cap for threepence. The lashed horse plunged +forward. Hilda leaned back in the creaking and depraved vehicle, and +sighed, "So this is their London!"</p> + +<p>She found herself travelling in the direction from which she had come, +parallel to the railway, down the longest street that she had ever seen. On +her left were ten thousand small new houses, all alike. On her right were +broken patches of similar houses, interspersed with fragments of green +field and views of the arches of the railway; the conception of the +horrible patience which had gone to the construction of these endless, +endless arches made her feel sick.</p> + +<p>The cab turned into another road, and another; and then stopped. She saw +the words "Cedars House" on a gateway. She could not open the door of the +cab. The cabman opened it.</p> + +<p>"Blinds down here, miss!" he said, with appropriate mournfulness.</p> + +<p>It seemed a rather large house; and every blind was drawn. Had the +incredible occurred, then? Had this disaster befallen just her, of all the +young women in the world?</p> + +<p>She saw the figure of Sarah Gailey.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon," she called out calmly. "Here I am. Only I'm afraid I +haven't got enough to pay the cabman."</p> + +<p>But while she was speaking she knew from Sarah Gailey's face that the +worst and the most ridiculous of her night-fears had been justified by +destiny.</p> + +<p>Three days previously Mrs. Lessways had been suddenly taken ill in the +street. A doctor passing in his carriage had come to her assistance and +driven her home. Food eaten on the previous evening had 'disagreed' with +her. At first the case was not regarded as very serious. But as the patient +did not improve in the night Miss Gailey telegraphed to Hilda. Immediately +afterwards, the doctor, summoned in alarm, diagnosed peritonitis caused by +a perforating cancer. Mrs. Lessways had died on the third day at eleven in +the morning, while Hilda was in the train. Useless to protest that these +catastrophes were unthinkable, that Mrs. Lessways had never been ill in her +life! The catastrophe had happened. And upstairs a corpse lay in proof.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="b2">BOOK II</a><br /> HER RECOVERY</h1> + + + + +<h2><a name="b2c1">CHAPTER I</a><br /> SIN</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>From her bed Hilda could see the trees waving in the wind. Every morning +she had thus watched them, without interest. At first the branches had been +utterly bare, and beyond their reticulation had been visible the rosy +façade of a new Board-school. But now the branches were rich with +leafage, hiding most of the Board-school, so that only a large upper window +of it could be seen. This window, upon which the sun glinted dazzlingly, +threw back the rays on to Hilda's bed, giving her for a few moments the +illusion of direct sunlight. The hour was eleven o'clock. On the +night-table lay a tea-tray in disorder, and on the turned-down sheet some +crumbs of toast. A low, nervous tap at the door caused Hilda to stir in the +bed. Sarah Gailey entered hurriedly. In her bony yellowed hand she held a +collection of tradesmen's account-books.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, dear, how are you?" she asked, bending awkwardly over the +bed. In the same instant she looked askance at the tray.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right, thanks," said Hilda lazily, observing the ceiling.</p> + +<p>"You haven't been too cold without the eiderdown? I forgot to ask you +before. You know I only took it off because I thought the weather was +getting too warm.... I didn't want it for another bed. I assure you it's in +the chest of drawers in my room." Sarah Gailey added the last words as if +supplicating to be believed.</p> + +<p>"You needn't tell me that," said Hilda. She was not angry, but bored, by +this characteristic remark of Miss Gailey's. In three months she had learnt +a great deal about the new landlady of the Cedars, that strange neurotic +compound of ability, devotion, thin-skinned vanity, and sheer, narrow +stupidity. "I've been quite warm enough," Hilda added as quickly as she +could, lest Miss Gailey might have time to convince herself to the +contrary.</p> + +<p>"And the toast? I do hope--after all I've said to that Hettie +about--"</p> + +<p>"You see I've eaten it all," Hilda interrupted her, pointing to the +plate.</p> + +<p>Their faces were close together; they exchanged a sad smile. Miss Gailey +was still bending over her, anxiously, as over a child. Yet neither the +ageing and worn woman nor the flaccid girl felt the difference between them +in age. Nor was Hilda in any ordinary sense ill. The explanation of Miss +Gailey's yearning attitude lay in an exaggerated idea of her duty to Hilda, +whose mother's death had been the result of an act of friendliness to her. +If Mrs. Lessways had not come to London in order to keep company with +Sarah, she might--she would, under Providence--have been alive and well +that day; such was Sarah's reasoning, which by the way ignored certain +statements of the doctor. Sarah would never forgive herself. But she +sought, by an infatuated devotion, to earn the forgiveness of Caroline's +daughter. Her attentions might have infuriated an earlier Hilda, or at +least have been met with disdain only half concealed. But on the present +actual Hilda they produced simply no effect of any kind. The actual Hilda, +living far within the mysterious fastness of her own being, was too +solitary, too preoccupied, and too fatigued, to be touched even by the +noble beauty that distinguished the expiatory and protective gesture of the +spinster, otherwise somewhat ludicrous, as she leaned across the bed and +cut off the sunshine.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>On the morning of her mother's funeral, Hilda had gone to Hornsey +Station to meet an uncle of Mrs. Lessways, who was coming down from +Scotland by the night-train. She scarcely knew him, but he was to be +recognizable by his hat and his muffler, and she was to await him at the +ticket-gate. An entirely foolish and unnecessary arrangement, contrived by +a peculiar old man: the only possible course was to accept it.</p> + +<p>She had waited over half an hour, between eight and nine, and in that +time she had had full opportunity to understand why those suburban stations +had been built so large. A dark torrent of human beings, chiefly men, +gathered out of all the streets of the vicinity, had dashed unceasingly +into the enclosure and covered the long platforms with tramping feet. Every +few minutes a train rolled in, as if from some inexhaustible magazine of +trains beyond the horizon, and, sucking into itself a multitude and +departing again, left one platform for one moment empty,--and the next +moment the platform was once more filled by the quenchless stream. Less +frequently, but still often, other trains thundered through the station on +a line removed from platforms, and these trains too were crammed with dark +human beings, frowning in study over white newspapers. For even in 1880 the +descent upon London from the suburbs was a formidable phenomenon. Train +after train fled downwards with its freight towards the hidden city, and +the torrent still surged, more rapid than ever, through the narrow gullet +of the station. It was like the flight of some enormous and excited +population from a country menaced with disaster.</p> + +<p>Borne on and buffeted by the torrent, Hilda had seen a well-dressed +epileptic youth, in charge of an elderly woman, approaching the station. He +had passed slowly close by her, as she modestly waited in her hasty +mourning, and she had had a fearful vision of his idiotic greenish face +supported somehow like a mask at the summit of that shaky structure of +limbs. He had indeed stared at her with his apelike eyes. She had watched +him, almost shuddering, till he was lost amid the heedless crowd within. +Then, without waiting longer for her relative, without reflecting upon what +she did, she had walked tremblingly back to the Cedars, checked by +tributaries of the torrent at every street corner....</p> + +<p>She had known nothing of the funeral. She had not had speech with the +relative. She was in bed, somehow. The day had elapsed. And in the +following night, when she was alone and quite awake, she had become aware +that she, she herself, was that epileptic shape; that that epileptic shape +was lying in her bed and that there was none other in the bed. Nor was this +a fancy of madness! She knew that she was not mad, that she was utterly +sane; and the conviction of sanity only intensified her awful discovery. +She passed a trembling hand over her face, and felt the skin corrupt and +green. Gazing into the darkness, she knew that her stare was apelike. She +had felt, then, the fullest significance of horror. In the morning she had +ceased to be the epileptic shape, but the risk of re-transformation had +hovered near her, and the intimidation of it was such that she had wept, +aghast and broken as much by the future as by the past. She had been +discovered weeping....</p> + +<p>Later, the phrase 'nervous breakdown' had lodged in her confused memory. +The doctor had been very matter-of-fact, logical, and soothing. Overwork, +strain, loss of sleep, the journey, anxiety, lack of food, the supreme +shock, the obstinate refusal of youth to succumb, and then the sudden sight +of the epileptic (with whom the doctor was acquainted): thus had run the +medical reasoning, after a discreet but thorough cross-examination of her; +and it had seemed so plausible and so convincing that the doctor's pride in +it was plain on his optimistic face as he gave the command: "Absolute +repose." But to Hilda the reasoning and the resultant phrase, 'nervous +breakdown,' had meant nothing at all. Words! Empty words! She knew, +profoundly and fatally, the evil principle which had conquered her so +completely that she had no power left with which to fight it. This evil +principle was Sin; it was not the force of sins, however multifarious; it +was Sin itself. She was the Sinner, convicted and self-convicted. One of +the last intelligent victims of a malady which has now almost passed away +from the civilized earth, she existed in the chill and stricken desolation +of incommutable doom.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>She had sinned against her mother, and she could not make amends. The +mere thought of her mother, so vivacious, cheerful, life-loving, +even-tempered, charitable, disorderly, incompetent, foolish, and yet +shrewd, caused pain of such intensity that it ceased to be pain. She ought +to have seen her mother before she died; she might have seen her, had she +done what was obviously her duty. It was inconceivable to her, now, that +she should have hesitated to fly instantly to London on receipt of the +telegram. But she had hesitated, and her mother had expired without having +sight of her. All exculpatory arguments were futile against the fact +itself. In vain she blamed the wording of the telegram! In vain she tried +to reason that chance, and not herself, was the evil-doer! In vain she +invoked the aid of simple common sense against sentimental fancy! In vain +she went over the events of the afternoon preceding the death, in order to +prove that at no moment had she been aware of not acting in accordance with +her conscience! The whole of her conduct had been against her conscience, +but pride and selfishness had made her deaf to conscience. She was the +Sinner.</p> + +<p>Her despair, except when at intervals she became the loathed epileptic +shape, had been calm. Its symptoms had been, and remained, a complete lack +of energy, and a most extraordinary black indifference to the surrounding +world. Save in the deep centre of her soul, where she agonized, she seemed +to have lost all capacity for emotion. Nothing moved her, or even +interested her. She sat in the house, and ate a little, and talked a +little, like an automaton. She walked about the streets like a bored exile, +but an exile who has forgotten his home. Her spirit never responded to the +stimulus of environment. Suggestions at once lost their tonic force in the +woolly cushion of her apathy. If she continued to live, it was by inertia; +to cease from life would have required an effort. She did not regret the +vocation which she had abandoned; she felt no curiosity about the fortunes +of the newspaper. A tragic nonchalance held her.</p> + +<p>After several weeks she had naturally begun to think of religion; for +the malady alone was proof enough that she had a profoundly religious +nature. Miss Gailey could rarely go to church, but one Sunday +morning--doubtless with intent--she asked Hilda if they should go together, +and Hilda agreed. As they approached the large, high-spired church, Hilda +had vague prickings of hope, and was thereby much astonished. But the +service in no way responded to her expectations. "How silly I am!" she +thought disdainfully. "This sort of thing has never moved me before. Why +should it move me now?" The sermon, evangelical, was upon the Creed, and +the preacher explained the emotional quality of real belief. It was a +goodish sermon. But the preacher had effectually stopped the very last of +those exquisite vague prickings of hope. Hilda agreed with his definition +of real belief, and she knew that real belief was impossible for her. She +could never say, with joyous fervour: "I believe!" At best she could only +assert that she did not disbelieve--and was she so sure even of that? No! +Belief had been denied to her; and to dream of consolation from religion +was sentimentally womanish; even in her indifference she preferred +straightforward, honest damnation to the soft self-deceptions of feminine +religiosity. Ah! If she could have been a Roman Catholic, genuine and +convinced--with what ardour would she have cast herself down before the +confessional, and whispered her sinfulness to the mysterious face within; +and with what ecstasy would she have received the absolution--that +cleansing bath of the soul! Then--she could have recommenced!... But she +was not a Roman Catholic. She could no more become a Roman Catholic than +she could become the queen of some romantic Latin country of palaces and +cathedrals. She was a young provincial girl staying in a boarding-house at +Hornsey, on the Great Northern line out of London, and she was suffering +from nervous breakdown. Such was the exterior common sense of the +situation.</p> + +<p>Occasionally the memory of some verse of Victor Hugo, sounding the beat +of one of his vast melancholies, would float through her mind and cause it +to vibrate for an instant with a mournful sensation that resembled +pleasure.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>"Are you thinking of getting up, dear?" asked Sarah Gailey, as she +arranged more securely the contents of the tray and found space on it for +her weekly books.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose I may as well," Hilda murmured. "It'll be lunch-time +soon." The days were long, yet somehow they seemed short too. Already +before getting up, she would begin to think of the evening and of going to +bed; and Saturday night followed quickly on Monday morning. It was scarcely +credible that sixteen weeks had passed, thus, since her mother's +death,--sixteen weeks whose retrospect showed no achievement of any kind, +and hardly a desire.</p> + +<p>"I've given those Boutwoods notice," said Sarah Gailey suddenly, the +tray in her hands ready to lift.</p> + +<p>"Not really?"</p> + +<p>"They were shockingly late for breakfast again, this morning, both of +them. And Mr. Boutwood had the face to ask for another egg. Hettie came and +told me, so I went in myself. I told him breakfast was served in my house +at nine o'clock, and there was a notice to that effect in the bedrooms, not +to mention the dining-room. And as good a breakfast as they'd get in any of +their hotels, I lay! If the eggs are cold at ten o'clock and after, that's +not my fault. They're both of them perfectly healthy, and yet they're +bone-idle. They never want to go to bed and they never want to get up. It +isn't as if they went to theatres and got home late and so on. I could make +excuses for that--now and then. No! It's just idleness and carelessness. +And if you saw their bedroom! Oh, my! A nice example to servants! Well, he +was very insulting--most insulting. He said he paid me to give him not what +I wanted, but what <i>he</i> wanted! He said if I went into a shop, and +they began to tell me what I ought to want and when I ought to want it, I +should be annoyed. I said I didn't need anyone to tell me that, I said! And +my house wasn't a shop. He said it was a shop, and if it wasn't, it ought +to be! Can you imagine it?"</p> + +<p>Hilda tried to exhibit a tepid sympathy. Miss Gailey's nostrils were +twitching, and the tears stood in those watery eyes. She could manage the +house. By the exertion of all her powers and her force she had made of +herself an exceptionally efficient mistress. But she could not manage the +boarders, because she had not sufficient imagination to put herself in +their place. Presiding over all her secret thoughts was the axiom that the +Cedars was a perfect machine, and that the least that a grateful boarder +could do was to fit into the machine.</p> + +<p>"And so you said they could go?"</p> + +<p>"That I did! And I'll tell you another thing, my dear, I--"</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door. Sarah Gailey stopped in her confidences +like a caught conspirator, and opened the door. Hettie stood on the +mat--the Hettie who despite frequent protests would leave Hilda's toast to +cool into leather on the landing somewhere between the kitchen and the +bedroom. In Hettie's hand was a telegram, which Miss Gailey accepted.</p> + +<p>"Here, take the tray, Hettie," said she, nervously tearing at the +envelope. "Put these books in my desk," she added.</p> + +<p>"And I wonder what <i>he'll</i> say!" she observed, staring absently at +the opened telegram, after Hettie had gone.</p> + +<p>"Who?"</p> + +<p>"George. He says he'll be up here for lunch. He's bound to be vexed +about the Boutwoods. But he doesn't understand. Men don't, you know! They +don't understand the strain it is on you." The appeal of her eyes was +strangely pathetic.</p> + +<p>Hilda said:</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall get up for lunch to-day."</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey moved to the bed, forgetting her own trouble.</p> + +<p>"You aren't so well, then, after all!" she muttered, with mournful +commiseration. "But, you know, he'll have to see you, <i>this</i> time. He +wants to."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"Your affairs, I suppose. He says so. 'Coming lunch one. Must see +Hilda.--George.'"</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey offered the telegram. But Hilda could not bear to take it. +This telegram was the first she had set eyes on since the telegram handed +to her by Florrie in George Cannon's office. The mere sight of the +salmon-tinted paper agitated her. "Is it possible that I can be so silly?" +she thought, "over a bit of paper!" But so it was.</p> + +<p>On a previous visit of George Cannon's to Hornsey she had kept her bed +throughout the day, afraid to meet him, ashamed to meet him, inexplicably +convinced that to meet him would be a crime against filial piety. There +were obscure grottoes in her soul which she had not had the courage to +explore candidly.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Sarah Gailey, reflective and anxious, "I think if you +<i>could</i> get up, it would be nicer than him seeing you here in +bed."</p> + +<p>Hilda perceived that at last she would be compelled to face George +Cannon.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b2c2">CHAPTER II</a><br /> THE LITTLE ROOM</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>After lunch Sarah Gailey left Hilda and Mr. Cannon in 'the little room' +together.</p> + +<p>'The little room'--about eight feet square--had no other name; it was +always spoken of affectionately by the boarders, and by the landlady with +pride in its coziness. Situated on the first floor, over the front part of +the hall, it lay between the two principal bedrooms. Old boarders would +discover the little room to new boarders, or new boarders would discover it +for themselves, with immense satisfaction. It was the chamber of intimacy +and of confidences; it was a refuge from the public life of the Cedars, +and, to a certain extent, from the piano. Two women, newly acquainted, and +feeling a mutual attraction, would say to each other: "Shall we go up to +the little room?" "Oh yes, do let us!" And they would climb the stairs in a +fever of anticipation. "Quite the most charming room in the house, dear +Miss Gailey!" another simpering spinster would say. Yet it contained +nothing but an old carpet, two wicker arm-chairs, a small chair, a nearly +empty dwarf bookcase, an engraving of Marie Antoinette regally facing the +revolutionary mob, and a couple of photographs of the Cedars.</p> + +<p>Hilda sat down in one of the arm-chairs, and George Cannon in the other; +he had a small black bag which he placed on the floor by his side. Hilda's +diffidence was extreme. Throughout lunch she had scarcely spoken; but as +there had been eight people at the table, and George Cannon had chatted +with all of them, her taciturnity had passed inconspicuous. Now she would +be obliged to talk. And the sensations which she had experienced on first +meeting George Cannon in the dining-room were renewed in a form even more +acute.</p> + +<p>She had, in the first place, the self-consciousness due to her mourning +attire, which drew attention to herself; it might have been a compromising +uniform; and the mere fact of her mother's death--quite apart from the +question of her conduct in relation thereto--gave her, in an interview with +a person whom she had not seen since before the death, a feeling akin to +guiltiness--guiltiness of some misdemeanour of taste, some infraction of +the social law against notoriety. She felt, in her mourning, like one who +is being led publicly by policemen to the police-station. In her fancy she +could hear people saying: "Look at that girl in deep mourning," and she +could see herself blushing, as it were apologetic.</p> + +<p>But much worse than this general mortification in presence of an +acquaintance seen after a long interval was the special constraint due to +the identity of the acquaintance. It was with George Cannon that she had +first deceived and plotted against her ingenuous mother's hasty plans. It +was her loyalty to George Cannon that had been the cause of her +inexplicable disloyalty to her mother. She could not recall her peculiar +and delicious agitations during the final moments of her previous interview +with Cannon--that night of February in the newspaper office, while her +mother was dying in London--without a profound unreasoning shame which +intensified most painfully her natural grief as an orphan.</p> + +<p>There was this to be said: she was now disturbed out of her torpid +indifference to her environment. As she fidgeted there, pale and frowning, +in the noisy basket-chair, beneath George Cannon's eyes, she actually +perceived again that romantic quality of existence which had always so +powerfully presented itself to her in the past. She reflected: "How strange +that the dreaded scene has now actually begun! He has come to London, and +here we are together, in this house, which at the beginning of the year was +nothing but a name to me! And mother is away there in the churchyard, and I +am in black! And it is all due to him. He sent Miss Gailey and mother to +London. He willed it!... No! It is all due to me! I went to see him one +late afternoon. I sought him out. He didn't seek me out. And just because I +went to see him one afternoon, mother is dead, and I am here! Strange!" +These reflections were dimly beautiful to her, even in her sadness and in +her acute distress. The coma had assuredly passed, if only for a space.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"Well, now," he said, after a few inanities had been succeeded by an +awkward pause. "I've got to talk business with you, so I suppose we may as +well begin, eh?" His tone was fairly blithe, but it was that of a man who +was throwing off with powerful ease the weariness of somewhat exasperating +annoyances. Since lunch he had had a brief interview with Sarah Gailey.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she agreed glumly.</p> + +<p>"Have you decided what you're going to do?" He began to smile +sympathetically as he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going back to the paper," she curtly answered, cutting short +the smile with fierceness, almost with ferocity. Beyond question she was +rude in her bitterness. She asked herself: "Why do I talk like this? Why +can't I talk naturally and gently and cheerfully? I've really got nothing +against him." But she could not talk otherwise than she did talk. It was by +this symptom of biting acrimony that her agitation showed itself. She knew +that she was scowling as she looked at the opposite wall, but she could not +smooth away the scowl.</p> + +<p>"No, I suppose not," he said quietly. "But are you thinking of coming +back to Turnhill?"</p> + +<p>She remained mute for some seconds. A feeling of desolation came over +her, and it seemed to her that she welcomed it, trying to intensify it, and +yielding her features to it. "How do I know?" she muttered at length, +shrugging her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Because if you aren't," he resumed, "it's no use you keeping that house +of yours empty. You must remember it's just as you left it; and the things +in it aren't taking any good, either."</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders again.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it matters to anybody but me," she said, after another +pause, with a sort of frigid and disdainful nonchalance. And once more she +reflected: "Is it possible that I can behave so odiously?"</p> + +<p>He stood up suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you and Sarah have been plotting together," he said, +wounded and contemptuous, yet with lightness. "But I'm sure I don't want to +interfere in your affairs. With Sarah's I've got to interfere, +unfortunately, and a famous time I'm having!" His nostrils grew fastidious. +"But not yours! I only promised your uncle.... Your uncle told me you +wanted me to--" He broke off.</p> + +<p>In an instant she grew confused, alarmed, and extremely ashamed. Her +mood had changed in a flash. It seemed to her that she was in presence of a +disgraceful disaster, which she herself had brought about by wicked and +irresponsible temerity. She was like a child who, having naughtily trifled +with danger, stands aghast at the calamity which his perverseness has +caused. She was positively affrighted. She reflected in her terror: "I +asked for this, and I've got it!"</p> + +<p>George Cannon stooped and picked up his little bag. There he towered, +high and massive, above her! And she felt acutely her slightness, her +girlishness, and her need of his help. She could not afford to transform +sympathy into antipathy. She was alone in the world. Never before had she +realized, as she realized then, the lurking terror of her loneliness. The +moment was critical. In another moment he might be gone from the room, and +she left solitary to irremediable humiliation and self-disgust.</p> + +<p>"Please!" she whispered appealingly. The whole of her being became an +appeal--the glance, the gesture, the curve of the slim and fragile body. +She was like a slave. She had no pride, no secret reserve of thought. She +was an instinct. Tears showed in her eyes and affected her voice.</p> + +<p>He gave the twisted, difficult, rather foolish smile of one who is +cursing the mortification of a predicament into which he has been cast +through no fault of his own.</p> + +<p>"Please what?"</p> + +<p>"Please sit down."</p> + +<p>He waved a hand, deprecatingly, and obeyed.</p> + +<p>"It's all right," he said. "All right! I ought to have known--" Then he +smiled generously.</p> + +<p>"Known what?" Her voice was now weak and liquid with woe.</p> + +<p>"You'd be likely to be upset."</p> + +<p>Not furtively, but openly, she wiped her eyes.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she protested honestly. "It's not that. It's--but--I'm very +sorry."</p> + +<p>"I reckon I know a bit what worry is, myself!" he added, with a brief, +almost harsh, laugh.</p> + +<p>These strange words struck her with pity.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>"Well, now,"--he seemed to be beginning again--let's leave Lessways +Street for a minute.... I can sell the Calder Street property for you, if +you like. And at a pretty good price. Sooner or later the town will have to +buy up all that side of the street. You remember I told your mother last +year but one I could get a customer for it? but she wasn't having any."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hilda eagerly; "I remember."</p> + +<p>In her heart she apologized to George Cannon, once more, for having +allowed her mother to persuade her, even for a day, that that attempt to +buy was merely a trick on his part invented to open negotiations for the +rent-collecting.</p> + +<p>"You know what the net rents are," he went on, "as you've had 'em every +month. I dare say the purchase money if it's carefully invested will bring +you in as much. But even if it doesn't bring in quite as much, you mustn't +forget that Calder Street's going down--it's getting more and more of a +slum. And there'll always be a lot of bother with tenants of that +class."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could sell everything--everything!" she exclaimed +passionately. "Lessways Street as well! Then I should be absolutely +free!"</p> + +<p>"You can!" he said, with dramatic emphasis. "And let me tell you that +ten years hence those Lessways Street houses won't be worth what they are +now!"</p> + +<p>"Is that property going down, too?" she asked. "I thought they were +building all round there."</p> + +<p>"So they are," he answered. "But cheap cottages. Your houses are too +good for that part of the town; that's what's the matter with them. People +who can afford £25 a year--and over--for rent won't care to live there much +longer. You know the end house is empty."</p> + +<p>All houses seemed to her to be a singularly insecure and even perilous +form of property. And the sale of everything she possessed presented itself +to her fancy as a transaction which would enfranchise her from the past. It +symbolized the starting-point of a new life, of a recommencement unhampered +by the vestiges of grief and error. She could go anywhere, do what she +chose. The entire world would lie before her.</p> + +<p>"Please do sell it all for me!" she pleaded wistfully. "Supposing you +could, about how much should I have--I mean income?"</p> + +<p>He glanced about, and then, taking a pencil from his waistcoat pocket, +scribbled a few figures on his cuff.</p> + +<p>"Quite three pounds a week," he said.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>After a perfunctory discussion, which was somewhat self-consciously +prolonged by both of them in order to avoid an appearance of hastiness in +an important decision, George Cannon opened his black bag and then looked +round for ink. The little room, having no table, had no inkpot, and the +lawyer took from his pocket an Eagle indelible pencil--the fountain-pen of +those simple days. It needed some adjustment; he stepped closer to the +window, and held the pointed end of the case up to the light, while +screwing the lower end; he was very fastidious in these mechanical details +of his vocation. Hilda watched him from behind, with an intentness that +fascinated herself.</p> + +<p>"And how's the <i>Chronicle</i> getting on?" she asked, in a tone of +friendly curiosity which gave an exaggerated impression of her actual +feeling. She was more and more ashamed that during lunch she had not +troubled to put a question about the paper. She was even ashamed of her +social indifference. That Sarah Gailey, narrow and preoccupied, should be +indifferent, should never once in three months have referred to her +brother's organ, was not surprising; but it was monstrous that she, Hilda, +the secretary, the priestess, should share this uncivil apathy; and it was +unjust to mark the newspaper, as somehow she had been doing, with the +stigma of her mother's death. She actually began to characterize her recent +mental attitude to her past life as morbid.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he murmured absently, with gloomy hesitation, as he manipulated +the pencil.</p> + +<p>She went on still more persuasively:</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've got a new secretary?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, as though it fatigued and annoyed him to dwell on the +subject. "I told 'em they must manage without.... It's no fun starting a +new paper in a God-forsaken hole like the Five Towns, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>Plainly his high exuberant hopes had been dashed, had perhaps been +destroyed.</p> + +<p>She did not reply. She could not. She became suddenly sad with sympathy, +and this sadness was beautiful to her. Already, when he was scribbling on +it, she had noticed that his wristband was frayed. Now, silhouetted against +the window, the edge of the wristband caught her attention again, and grew +strangely significant. This man was passing through adversity! It seemed +tragic and shocking to her that he should have to pass through adversity, +that he could not remain for ever triumphant, brilliant, cocksure in all +his grand schemes, and masculinely scathless. It seemed wrong to her that +he should suffer, and desirable that anybody should suffer rather than he. +George Cannon with faulty linen! By what error of destiny had this +heart-rending phenomenon of discord been caused? (Yes, heart-rending!) Was +it due to weary carelessness, or to actual, horrible financial straits? +Either explanation was very painful to her. She had a vision of a whole +sisterhood of women toiling amid steam and soapsuds in secret, and in +secret denying themselves, to provide him with all that he lacked, so that +he might always emerge into the world unblemished and glitteringly perfect. +She would have sacrificed the happiness of multitudes to her sense of +fitness.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>There being no table, George Cannon removed a grotesque ornament from +the dwarf bookcase, and used the top of the bookcase as a writing-board. +Hilda was called upon to sign two papers. He explained exactly what these +papers were, but she did not understand, nor did she desire to understand. +One was an informal sale-note and the other was an authority; but which was +which, and to what each had reference, she superbly and wilfully ignored. +She could, by a religious effort of volition, make of herself an excellent +clerk, eagerly imitative and mechanical, but she had an instinctive +antipathy to the higher forms of business. Moreover, she wanted to trust +herself to him, if only as a mystic reparation of her odious rudeness at +the beginning of the interview. And she thought also: "These transactions +will result in profit to him. It is by such transactions that he lives. I +am helping him in his adversity."</p> + +<p>When he gave her the Eagle pencil, and pointed to the places where she +was to sign, she took the pencil with fervour, more and more anxious to +atone to him. For a moment she stood bewildered, in a dream, staring at the +scratched mahogany top of the bookcase. And the bookcase seemed to her to +be something sentient, patient, and helpful, that had always been waiting +there in the corner to aid George Cannon in this crisis--something human +like herself. She loved the bookcase, and the Eagle pencil, and the papers, +and the pattern on the wall. George Cannon was standing behind her. She +felt his presence like a delicious danger. She signed the papers, in that +large scrawling hand which for a few brief weeks she had by force cramped +down to the submissive caligraphy of a clerk. As she signed, she saw the +name "Karkeek" in the midst of one of the documents, and remembered, with +joyous nonchalance, that George Cannon's own name never appeared in George +Cannon's affairs.</p> + +<p>He took her place in front of the little bookcase, and folded the +documents. There he was, beside her, in all his masculinity--his moustache, +his blue chin, his wide white hands, his broadcloth--there he was planted +on his massive feet as on a pedestal! She did not see him; she was aware of +him. And she was aware of the closed door behind them. One of the +basket-chairs, though empty, continued to creak, like a thing alive. +Faintly, very faintly, she could hear the piano--Mrs. Boutwood playing! +Overhead were the footsteps of Sarah Gailey and Hettie--they were checking +the linen from the laundry, as usual on Saturday afternoon. And she was +aware of herself, thin, throbbing, fragile, mournful, somehow +insignificant!</p> + +<p>He looked round at her, with a half-turn of the head. In his glance was +good humour, good nature, protectiveness, and rectitude; and, more than +these, some of the old serenely smiling triumphant quality. He was not +ruined! He was not really in adversity! He remained the conqueror! She +thrilled with her relief.</p> + +<p>"You're in my hands now--no mistake!" he murmured roguishly, picking up +the documents, and bending over the bag.</p> + +<p>Hilda could hear a heavy footstep on the stairs, ascending.</p> + +<p>In the same instant she had an extraordinary and disconcerting impulse +to seize his hand--she knew not why, whether it was to thank him, to +express her sympathy, or to express her submission. She struggled against +this impulse, but the impulse was part of herself and of her inmost self; +She was afraid, but her fear was pleasurable. She was ashamed, but her +shame was pleasurable. She wanted to move away from where she stood. She +thought: "If only I willed to move away, I could move away. But, no! I +shall not will it. I like remaining just here, in this fear, this shame, +and this agitation." She had a clear, dazzling perception of the splendour +and the fineness of sin; but she did not know what sin! And all the time +the muscles of her arm were tense in the combat between the weakening +desire to keep her arms still and the growing desire to let her hand seize +the hand of George Cannon. And all the time the heavy footstep was +ascending the interminable staircase. And all the time George Cannon, with +averted head, was fumbling in the bag. And then, in a flash, she was really +afraid; the fear was no longer pleasurable, and her shame had become a +curse. She said to herself: "I cannot move, now. In a minute I shall do +this horrible thing. Nothing can save me." Despairing, she found a dark and +tumultuous joy in despair. The trance endured for ages, while disaster +approached nearer and nearer.</p> + +<p>Then, after the heavy footstep had been climbing the staircase since +earth began, the door was brusquely opened, and the jovial fat face of Mr. +Boutwood appeared, letting in the louder sound of the piano.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg pardon!" he muttered, pretending that he had assumed the +little room to be empty. The fact was that he was in search of George +Cannon, in whom he had recognized a fraternal spirit.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Mr. Boutwood," said Hilda, with an easy, disdainful calm which +absolutely astounded herself. "That's all, then?" she added, to George +Cannon, glancing at him indifferently. She departed without waiting for an +answer.</p> + + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p>Putting on a bonnet, and taking an umbrella to occupy her hands, she +went out into the remedial freedom of the streets. And after turning the +first corner she saw coming towards her the figure of a woman whom she +seemed to know, elegant, even stately, in youthful grace. It was Janet +Orgreave, wearing a fashionable fawn-coloured summer costume. As they +recognized each other the girls blushed slightly. Janet hastened forward. +Hilda stood still. She was amazed at the chance which had sent her two +unexpected visitors in the same day. They shook hands and kissed.</p> + +<p>"So I've found you!" said Janet. "How are you, you poor dear? Why didn't +you answer my letter?"</p> + +<p>"Letter?" Hilda repeated, wondering. Then she remembered that she had +indeed received a letter from Janet, but in her comatose dejection had +neglected to answer it.</p> + +<p>"I'm up in London with father for the weekend. We want you to come with +us to the Abbey to-morrow. And you must come back with us to Bursley on +Monday. You <i>must</i>! We're quite set on it. I've left father all alone +this afternoon, to come up here and find you out. Not that he minds! What a +way it is! But how are you, Hilda?"</p> + +<p>Hilda was so touched by Janet's affectionate solicitude that her eyes +filled with tears. She looked at that radiating and innocent goodness, and +thought: "How different I am from her! She hasn't the least idea how +different I am!"</p> + +<p>For a moment, Janet seemed to her to be a sort of angel--modish, but +exquisitely genuine. She saw in the invitation to the Five Towns a +miraculous defence against a peril the prospect of which was already +alarming her. She would be compelled to go to Turnhill in order to visit +Lessways Street and decide what of her mother's goods she must keep. She +would of course take Janet with her. In all the Turnhill affairs Janet +should accompany her. Her new life should begin under the protection of +Janet's society. And her heart turned from the old life towards the new +with hope and a vague brightening expectation of happiness.</p> + +<p>At the Cedars she led Janet to her bedroom, and then came out of the +bedroom to bid good-bye to George Cannon. The extreme complexity of +existence and of her sensations baffled and intimidated her.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b2c3">CHAPTER III</a><br /> JOURNEY TO BLEAKRIDGE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Hilda and Janet were mounting the precipitous Sytch Bank together on +their way from Turnhill into Bursley. It was dark; they had missed one +train at Turnhill and had preferred not to wait for the next. Although they +had been very busy in Hilda's house throughout all the afternoon and a part +of the evening, and had eaten only a picnic meal, neither of them was aware +of fatigue, and the two miles to Bursley seemed a trifle.</p> + +<p>Going slowly up the steep slope, they did not converse. Janet said that +the weather was changing, and Hilda, without replying, peered at the black +baffling sky. The air had, almost suddenly, grown warmer. Above, in the +regions unseen, mysterious activities were in movement, as if marshalling +vast forces. The stars had vanished. A gentle but equivocal wind on the +cheek presaged rain, and seemed to be bearing downwards into the homeliness +of the earth some strange vibration out of infinite space. The primeval +elements of the summer night encouraged and intensified Hilda's mood, half +joyous, half apprehensive. She thought: "A few days ago, I was in Hornsey, +with the prospect of the visit to Turnhill before me. Now the visit is +behind me. I said that Janet should be my companion, and she has been my +companion. I said that I would cut myself free, and I have cut myself free. +I need never go to Turnhill again, unless I like. The two trunks will be +sent for to-morrow; and all the rest will be sold--even the clock. The +thing is done. I have absolute liberty, and an income, and the intimacy of +this splendid affectionate Janet.... How fortunate it was that Mr. Cannon +was not at his office when we called! Of course I was obliged to call.... +And yet would it not be more satisfactory if I had seen him?... I must have +been in a horribly morbid state up at Hornsey.... Soon I must decide about +my future. Soon I shall actually have decided!... Life is very queer!" She +had as yet no notion whatever of what she would do with her liberty and her +income and the future; but she thought vaguely of something heroic, +grandiose, and unusual.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>In her hand she carried a small shabby book, bound in blue and gold, +with gilt edges a little irregular. She had found this book while sorting +out the multitudinous contents of her mother's wardrobe, and at the last +moment, perceiving that it had been overlooked, and being somehow ashamed +to leave it to the auctioneers, she had brought it away, not knowing how +she would ultimately dispose of it. The book had possibly been dear to her +mother, but she could not embarrass her freedom by conserving everything +that had possibly been dear to her mother. It was entitled <i>The Girl's +Week-day Book</i>, by Mrs. Copley, and it had been published by the +Religious Tract Society, no doubt in her mother's girlhood. The +frontispiece, a steel engraving, showed a group of girls feeding some swans +by the terraced margin of an ornamental water, and it bore the legend, +"Feeding the Swans." And on the title-page was the text: "That our +daughters may be as corner-stones, polished after the similitude of a +palace. Psalm cxliv. 12." In the table of contents were such phrases as: +"One thing at a time. Darkness and Light. Respect for Ministers. The +Drowning Fly. Trifling with words of Scripture. Goose and Swan. Delicate +Health. Conscientious Regard to Truth. Sensibility and Gentleness +contrasted with Affectation. Curiosity and Tattling. Instability of Worldly +Possessions." A book representing, for Hilda, all that was most grotesque +in an age that was now definitely finished and closed! A silly book!</p> + +<p>During the picnic meal she had idly read extracts from it to Janet, +amusing sentences; and though the book had once been held sacred by her who +was dead, and though they were engaged in stirring the scarce-cold ashes of +a tragedy, the girls had nevertheless permitted themselves a kindly, +moderate mirth. Hilda had quoted from a conversation in it: "Well, I would +rather sit quietly round this cheerful fire, and talk with dear mamma, than +go to the grandest ball that ever was known!" and Janet had plumply +commented: "What a dreadful lie!" And then they had both laughed openly, +perhaps to relieve the spiritual tension caused by the day's task and the +surroundings. After that, Hilda had continued to dip into the book, but +silently. And Janet had imagined that Hilda was merely bored by the +monotonous absurdity of the sentiments expressed.</p> + +<p>Janet was wrong. Hilda had read the following: "One word more. Do not +rest in your religious impressions. You have, perhaps, been the subject of +terror on account of sin; your mind has been solemnized by some event in +Providence; by an alarming fit of sickness, or the death of a relative, or +a companion.... This is indeed to be reckoned a great mercy; but then the +danger is, lest you should rest here; lest those tears, and terrors, and +resolutions, should be the only evidences on which you venture to conclude +on the safety of your immortal state. What is your present +condition?..."</p> + +<p>Which words intimidated Hilda in spite of herself. In vain she repeated +that the book was a silly book. She really believed that it was silly, but +she knew also that there was an aspect of it which was not silly. She was +reminded by it that she had found no solution of the problem which had +distracted her in Hornsey. 'What is your present condition?' Her present +condition was still that of a weakling and a coward who had sunk down +inertly before the great problem of sin. And now, in the growing strength +of her moral convalescence, she was raising her eyes again to meet the +problem. Her future seemed to be bound up with the problem. As she breasted +the top of the Sytch under the invisible lowering clouds, with her new, +adored friend by her side, and the despised but powerful book in her hand, +she mused in an ambiguous reverie upon her situation, dogged by the problem +which alone was accompanying her out of the past into the future. Her +reverie was shot through by piercing needles of regret for her mother; and +even with the touch of Janet's arm against her own in the darkness she had +sharp realizations of her extreme solitude in the world. Withal, the sense +of life was precious and beautiful. She was not happy; but she was filled +with the mysterious vital elation which surpasses happiness.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>They descended gently into Bursley, crossing the top of St. Luke's +Square and turning eastwards into Market Square, ruled by the sombre and +massive Town Hall in whose high tower an illuminated dial shone like a +topaz. To Hilda, this nocturnal entry into Bursley had the romance of an +entry into a town friendly but strange and recondite. During the few days +of her stay with the Orgreaves in the suburb of Bleakridge, she had +scarcely gone into the town once. She had never seen it at night. In the +old Turnhill days she had come over to Bursley occasionally with her +mother; but to shoppers from Turnhill, Bursley meant St. Luke's Square and +not a yard beyond.</p> + +<p>Now the girls arrived at the commencement of the steam-car track, where +a huge engine and tram were waiting, and as they turned another corner, the +long perspective of Trafalgar Road, rising with its double row of lamps +towards fashionable Bleakridge, was revealed to Hilda. She thought, +naturally, that every other part of the Five Towns was more impressive and +more important than the poor little outskirt, Turnhill, of her birth. In +Turnhill there was no thoroughfare to compare with Trafalgar Road, and no +fashionable suburb whatever. She had almost the feeling of being in a +metropolis, if a local metropolis.</p> + +<p>"It's beginning to rain, I think," said Janet.</p> + +<p>"Who's that?" Hilda questioned abruptly, ignoring the remark in the +swift, unreflecting excitement of a sensibility surprised.</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>"There!"</p> + +<p>They were going down Duck Bank into the hollow. On the right, opposite +the lighted Dragon Hotel, lay Duck Square in obscure somnolence; at the +corner of Duck Square and Trafalgar Road was a double-fronted shop, of +which all the shutters were up except two or three in the centre of the +doorway. Framed thus in the aperture, a young man stood within the shop +under a bright central gas-jet; he was gazing intently at a large sheet of +paper which he held in his outstretched hands, and the girls saw him in +profile: tall, rather lanky, fair, with hair dishevelled, and a serious, +studious, and magnanimous face; quite unconscious that he made a picture +for unseen observers.</p> + +<p>"That?" said Janet, in a confidential and interested tone. "That's young +Clayhanger--Edwin Clayhanger.<sup><a href="#fn1" name="rfn1">[1]</a></sup> +His father's the printer, you know. Came from Turnhill, originally."</p> + + +<p>"I never knew," said Hilda. "But I seem to have heard the name."</p> + +<p>"Oh! It must have been a long time ago. He's got the best business in +Bursley now. Father says it's one of the best in the Five Towns. He's built +that new house just close to ours. Don't you remember I pointed it out to +you? Father's the architect. They're going to move into it next week or the +week after. I expect that's why the son and heir's working so late +to-night, packing and so on, perhaps."</p> + +<p>The young man moved out of sight. But his face had made in those few +thrilling seconds a deep impression on Hilda; so that in her mind she still +saw it, with an almost physical particularity of detail. It presented +itself to her, in some mysterious way, as a romantic visage, wistful, full +of sad subtleties, of the unknown and the seductive, and of a latent +benevolence. It was as recondite and as sympathetic as the town in which +she had discovered it.</p> + +<p>She said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Old Mr. Clayhanger is a regular character," Janet eagerly went on, to +Hilda's great content. "Some people don't like him. But I rather do like +him." She was always thus kind. "Grandmother once told me he sprang from +simply nothing at all--worked on a potbank when he was quite a child."</p> + +<p>"Who? The father, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the father. Now, goodness knows how much he isn't worth I Father +is always saying he could buy <i>us</i> up, lock, stock, and barrel." Janet +laughed. "People often call him a miser, but he can't be so much of a +miser, seeing that he's built this new house."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose the son's in the business?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He wanted to be an architect. That was how father got to know him. +But old Mr. Clayhanger wouldn't have it. And so he's a printer, and one day +he'll be one of the principal men in the town."</p> + +<p>"Oh! So you know him?"</p> + +<p>"Well, we do and we don't. I go into the shop sometimes; and then I've +seen him once or twice up at the new house. We've asked him to come in and +see us. But he's never come, and I don't think he ever will. I believe his +father does keep him grinding away rather hard. I'm sure he's frightfully +clever."</p> + +<p>"How can you tell?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! From bits of things he says. And he's read everything, it seems! +And once he saved a great heavy printing-machine from going through the +floor of the printing-shop into the basement. If it hadn't been for him +there'd have been a dreadful accident. Everybody was talking about that. He +doesn't look it, does he?"</p> + +<p>They were now passing the corner at which stood the shop. Hilda peered +within the narrowing, unshuttered slit, but she could see no more of Edwin +Clayhanger.</p> + +<p>"No, he doesn't," she agreed, while thinking nevertheless that he did +look precisely that. "And so he lives all alone with his father. No +mother?"</p> + +<p>"No mother. But there are two sisters. The youngest is married, and just +going to have a baby, poor thing! The other one keeps house. I believe +she's a splendid girl, but neither of them is a bit like Edwin. Not a bit. +He's--"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Look here, miss! What about this rain? I vote we take the +car up the hill."</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The steam-car was rumbling after them down Duck Bank. It stopped, huge +above them, and they climbed into it through an odour of warm grease that +trailed from the engine. The conductor touched his hat to Janet, who smiled +like a sister upon this fellow-being. Two middle-aged men were the only +other occupants of the interior of the car; both raised their hats to +Janet. The girls sat down in opposite corners next to the door. Then, with +a deafening continuous clatter of loose glass-panes and throbbing of its +filthy floor, the vehicle started again, elephantine. It was impossible to +talk in that unique din. Hilda had no desire to talk. She watched Janet pay +the fares as in a dream, without even offering her own penny, though as a +rule she was touchily punctilious in sharing expenses with the sumptuous +Janet. Without being in the least aware of it, and quite innocently, Janet +had painted a picture of the young man, Edwin Clayhanger, which intensified +a hundredfold the strong romantic piquancy of Hilda's brief vision of him. +In an instant Hilda saw her ideal future--that future which had loomed +grandiose, indefinite, and strange--she saw it quite precise and simple as +the wife of such a creature as Edwin Clayhanger. The change was astounding +in its abruptness. She saw all the delightful and pure vistas of love with +a man, subtle, baffling, and benevolent, and above all superior; with a man +who would be respected by a whole town as a pillar of society, while +bringing to his intimacy with herself an exotic and wistful quality which +neither she nor anyone could possibly define. She asked: "What attracts me +in him? I don't know. <i>I like him</i>." She who had never spoken to him! +She who never before had vividly seen herself as married to a man! He was +clever; he was sincere; he was kind; he was trustworthy; he would have +wealth and importance and reputation. All this was good; but all this would +have been indifferent to her, had there not been an enigmatic and +inscrutable and unprecedented something in his face, in his bearing, which +challenged and inflamed her imagination.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to her to think of Janet as in the future a married +woman. But of herself she thought, with new agitations: "I am innocent now! +I am ignorant now! I am a girl now! But one day I shall be so no longer. +One day I shall be a woman. One day I shall be in the power and possession +of some man--if not this man, then some other. Everything happens; and this +will happen!" And the hazardous strangeness of life enchanted her.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b2c4">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> WITH THE ORGREAVES</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>The Orgreave family was holding its nightly session in the large +drawing-room of Lane End House when Hilda and Janet arrived. The bow-window +stood generously open in three different places, and the heavy outer +curtains as well as the lace inner ones were moving gently in the +capricious breeze that came across the oval lawn. The multitudinous sound +of rain on leaves entered also with the wind; and a steam-car could be +heard thundering down Trafalgar Road, from which the house was separated by +only a few intervening minor roofs.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Orgreave, the plump, faded image of goodness, with Janet's full red +lips and Janet's kindly eyes, sat as usual, whether in winter or in summer, +near the fireplace, surveying with placidity the theatre where the +innumerable dramas of her motherhood had been enacted. Tom, her eldest, the +thin, spectacled lawyer, had, as a boy of seven, rampaged on that identical +Turkey hearthrug, when it was new, a quarter of a century earlier. He was +now seated at the grand piano with the youngest child, Alicia, a gawky +little treasure, always alternating between pertness and timidity, aged +twelve. Jimmie and Johnnie, young bloods of nineteen and eighteen, were +only present in their mother's heart, being in process of establishing, by +practice, the right to go forth into the world of an evening and return +when they chose without suffering too much from family curiosity. Two other +children--Marian, eldest daughter and sole furnisher of grandchildren to +the family, and Charlie, a young doctor--were permanently away in London. +Osmond Orgreave, the elegant and faintly mocking father of the brood, a +handsome grizzled man of between fifty and sixty, was walking to and fro +between the grand piano and the small upright piano in the farther half of +the room.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear?" said Mrs. Orgreave to Hilda. "You aren't wet?" She drew +Hilda towards her and stroked her shoulder, and then kissed her. The +embrace was to convey the mother's sympathy with Hilda in the ordeal of the +visit to Turnhill, and her satisfaction that the ordeal was now over. The +ageing lady seemed to kiss her on behalf of the entire friendly family; all +the others, appreciating the delicacy of the situation, refrained from the +peril of clumsy speech.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, mother!" Janet exclaimed reassuringly. "We came up by car. And I +had my umbrella. And it only began to rain in earnest just as we got to the +gate."</p> + +<p>"Very thoughtful of it, I'm sure!" piped the pig-tailed Alicia from the +piano. She could talk, in her pert moments, exactly like her brothers.</p> + +<p>"Alicia, darling," said Janet coaxingly, as she sat on the sofa flanked +by the hat, gloves, and jacket which she had just taken off, "will you run +upstairs with these things, and take Hilda's too? I'm quite exhausted. +Father will swoon if I leave them here. I suppose he's walking about +because he's so proud of his new birthday slippers."</p> + +<p>"But I'm just playing the symphony with Tom!" Alicia protested.</p> + +<p>"I'll run up--I was just going to," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"You'll do no such thing!" Mrs. Orgreave announced, sharply. "Alicia, +I'm surprised at you! Here Janet and Hilda have been out since noon, and +you--"</p> + +<p>"And so on and so on," said Alicia, jumping up from the piano in +obedience.</p> + +<p>"We didn't wait supper," Mrs. Orgreave went on. "But I told Martha to +leave--"</p> + +<p>"Mother, dearest," Janet stopped her. "Please don't mention food. We've +stuffed ourselves, haven't we, Hilda? Anyone been?"</p> + +<p>"Swetnam," said Alicia, as she left the room with her arms full.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mr</i>. Swetnam," corrected Mrs. Orgreave.</p> + +<p>"Which one? The Ineffable?"</p> + +<p>"The Ineffable," replied Mr. Orgreave, who had wandered, smiling +enigmatically, to the sofa. His legs, like the whole of his person, had a +distinguished air; and he held up first one slippered foot and then the +other to the silent, sham-ecstatic inspection of the girls. "He may look in +again, later on. It's evidently Hilda he wants to see." This said, Mr. +Orgreave lazily sank into an easy chair, opposite the sofa, and lighted a +cigarette. He was one of the most industrious men in the Five Towns, and +assuredly the most industrious architect; but into an idle hour he could +pack more indolence than even Johnnie and Jimmie, alleged wastrels, could +accomplish in a week.</p> + +<p>"I say, Janet," Tom sang out from the piano, "you aren't really +exhausted, are you?"</p> + +<p>"I'm getting better."</p> + +<p>"Well, let's dash through the scherzo before the infant comes back. She +can't take it half fast enough."</p> + +<p>"And do you think I can?" said Janet, rising. In theory, Janet was not a +pianist, and she never played solos, nor accompanied songs; but in the +actual practice of duet-playing her sympathetic presence of mind at +difficult crises of the music caused her to be esteemed by Tom, the expert +and enthusiast, as superior to all other performers in the family.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Hilda listened with pleasure and with exaltation to the scherzo. Beyond +a little part-singing at school she had no practical acquaintance with +music; there had never been a piano at home. But she knew that this music +was Beethoven's; and from the mere intonation of that name, as it was +uttered in her presence in the house of the Orgreaves, she was aware of its +greatness, and the religious faculty in her had enabled her at once to +accept its supremacy as an article of genuine belief; so that, though she +understood it not, she felt it, and was uplifted by it. Whenever she heard +Beethoven--and she heard it often, because Tom, in the words of the family, +had for the moment got Beethoven on the brain--her thoughts and her +aspirations were ennobled.</p> + +<p>She was singularly content with this existence amid the intimacy of the +Orgreaves. The largeness and prodigality and culture of the family life, so +different from anything she had ever known, and in particular so different +from the desolating atmosphere of the Cedars, soothed and flattered her in +a manner subtly agreeable. At the same time she was but little irked by it, +for the reason that her spirit was not one to be unduly affected by +exterior social, intellectual, and physical conditions. Moreover, the +Orgreaves, though obviously of a class superior to her own, had the facile +and yet aristocratic unceremoniousness which, unconsciously, repudiates +such distinctions until circumstances arise that compel their +acknowledgment. To live among the Orgreaves was like living in a small +private republic that throbbed with a hundred activities and interests. +Each member of it was a centre of various energy. And from each, Hilda drew +something that was precious: from Mrs. Orgreave, sheer love and calm +wisdom; from Janet, sheer love and the spectacle of elegance; from little +Alicia candour and admiration; from Tom, knowledge, artistic enthusiasm, +and shy, curt sympathy; from Johnnie and Jimmie the homage of their proud +and naïve mannishness: as for Mr. Orgreave, she admired him perhaps as +much as she admired even Janet, and once when he and she had taken a walk +together up to Toft End, she had thought him quite exquisite in his +attitude to her, quizzical, worldly, and yet sensitively understanding and +humane. And withal they never worried her by interferences and criticisms; +they never presumed on their hospitality, but left her as free as though +her age had been twice what it was. Undoubtedly, in the ardour of her +gratitude she idealized every one of them. The sole reproach which in +secret she would formulate against them had reference to their +quasi-cynical levity in conversation. They would never treat a serious +topic seriously for more than a few minutes. Either one or another would +yield to the temptation of clever facetiousness, and clever facetiousness +would always carry off the honours in a discussion. This did not apply to +Mrs. Orgreave, who was incapable of humour; but it applied a little even to +Janet.</p> + +<p>The thought continually arising in Hilda's mind was: "Why do they care +for me? What can they see in me? Why are they so good to me? I was never +good to them." She did not guess that, at her very first visit to Lane End +House, the force and mystery of her character had powerfully attracted +these rather experienced amateurs of human nature. She was unaware that she +had made her mark upon Janet and Charlie so far back as the days of the +dancing-classes. And she under-estimated the appeal of her situation as an +orphan and a solitary whose mother's death, in its swiftness, had amounted +to a tragedy.</p> + +<p>The scherzo was finished, and Alicia had not returned into the +drawing-room. The two pianists sat hesitant.</p> + +<p>"Where is that infant?" Tom demanded. "If I finish it all without her +she'll be vexed."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you where she ought to be," said Mrs. Orgreave placidly. +"She ought to be in bed. No wonder she looks pale, stopping up till this +time of night!"</p> + +<p>Then there were unusual and startling movements behind the door, +accompanied by giggling. And Alicia entered, followed by Charlie--Charlie +who was supposed at that precise instant to be in London!</p> + +<p>"Hello, mater!" said the curly-headed Charlie, with a sublime +affectation of calmness, as though he had slipped out of the next room. He +produced an effect fully equal to his desires.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>In a little while, Charlie, on the sofa, was seated at a small table +covered with viands and fruit; the white cloth spread on the table made a +curiously charming patch amid the sombre colours of the drawing-room. He +had protested that, having consumed much food en route, he was not hungry; +but in vain. Mrs. Orgreave demolished such arguments by the power of her +notorious theory, which admitted no exceptions, that any person coming off +an express train must be in need of sustenance. The odd thing was that all +the others discovered mysterious appetites and began to eat and drink with +gusto, sitting, standing, or walking about, while Charlie, munching, +related how he had miraculously got three days' leave from the hospital, +and how he had impulsively 'cabbed it' to Euston, and how, having arrived +at Knype, he had also 'cabbed it' from Knype to Bleakridge instead of +waiting for the Loop Line train. The blot on his advent, in the eyes of +Mrs. Orgreave, was that he had no fresh news of Marian and her +children.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem very surprised to find Hilda here," said Alicia.</p> + +<p>"It's not my business to be surprised at anything, kid," Charlie +retorted, smiling at Hilda, who sat beside him on the sofa. "Moreover, +don't I get ten columns of news every three days? I know far more about +this town than you do, I bet!"</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed at Mrs. Orgreave, the great letter-writer and +universal disseminator of information.</p> + +<p>"Now, Alicia, you must go to bed," said Mrs. Orgreave. And Alicia +regretted that she had been so indiscreet as to draw attention to +herself.</p> + +<p>"The kid can stay up if she will say her piece," said Charlie mockingly. +He knew that he could play the autocrat, for that evening at any rate.</p> + +<p>"What piece?" the child demanded, blushing and defiant.</p> + +<p>"Her 'Abou Ben Adhem,'" said Charlie. "Do you think I don't know all +about that too?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, you are a bore!" Alicia exclaimed, pouting. "Why did you +tell him that?... Well, I'll say it if Hilda will recite something as +well."</p> + +<p>"Me!" murmured Hilda, staggered. "I never recite!"</p> + +<p>"I've always understood you recite beautifully," said Mrs. Orgreave.</p> + +<p>"You know you do, Hilda!" said Janet.</p> + +<p>"Of course you do," said Charlie.</p> + +<p>"<i>You've</i> never heard me, anyhow!" she replied to him obstinately. +How could they have got it fixed into their heads that she was a reciter? +This renown was most disconcerting.</p> + +<p>"Now, Hilda!" Mr. Orgreave soothingly admonished her from the back of +the sofa. She turned her head and looked up at him, smiling in her +distress.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, then, kid! It's agreed," said Charlie.</p> + +<p>And Alicia galloped through Leigh Hunt's moral poem, which she was +preparing for an imminent speech-day, in an extraordinarily short space of +time.</p> + +<p>"But I can't remember anything. I haven't recited for years and years," +Hilda pleaded, when the child burst out, "Now, Hilda!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Stuff</i>!" Charlie pronounced.</p> + +<p>"Some Tennyson?" Mrs. Orgreave suggested. "Don't you know any Tennyson? +We must have something, now." And Alicia, exulting in the fact that she had +paid the penalty imposed, cried that there could be no drawing back.</p> + +<p>Hilda was lost. Mrs. Orgreave's tone, with all its softness, was a +command. "Tennyson? I've forgotten 'Maud,'" she muttered.</p> + +<p>"I'll prompt you," said Charlie. "Thomas!"</p> + +<p>Everybody looked at Tom, expert in literature as well as in music; Tom, +the collector, the owner of books and bookcases. Tom went to a bookcase and +drew forth a green volume, familiar and sacred throughout all England.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" Hilda moaned.</p> + +<p>"Where do you mean to begin?" Charlie sternly inquired. "It just happens +that I'm reading 'In Memoriam,' myself. I read ten stanzas a day."</p> + +<p>Hilda bent over the book with him.</p> + +<p>"But I must stand up," she said, with sudden fire. "I can't recite +sitting down."</p> + +<p>They all cried "Bravo!" and made a circle for her. And she stood up.</p> + +<p>The utterance of the first lines was a martyrdom for her. But after that +she surrendered herself frankly to the mood of the poem and forgot to +suffer shame, speaking in a loud, clear, dramatic voice which she +accompanied by glances and even by gestures. After about thirty lines she +stopped, and, regaining her ordinary senses, perceived that the entire +family was staring at her with an extreme intentness.</p> + +<p>"I can't do any more," she murmured weakly, and dropped on to the +sofa.</p> + +<p>Everybody clapped very heartily.</p> + +<p>"It's wonderful!" said Janet in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"I should just say it was!" said Tom seriously, and Hilda was saturated +with delicious joy.</p> + +<p>"You ought to go on the stage; that's what you ought to do!" said +Charlie.</p> + +<p>For a fraction of a second, Hilda dreamt of the stage, and then Mrs. +Orgreave said softly, like a mother:</p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure Hilda would never dream of any such thing!"</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>There was an irruption of Jimmie and Johnnie, and three of the Swetnam +brothers, including him known as the Ineffable. Jimmie and Johnnie played +the rôle of the absolutely imperturbable with a skill equal to +Charlie's own; and only a series of calm "How-do's?" marked the greetings +of these relatives. The Swetnams were more rollickingly demonstrative. Now +that the drawing-room was quite thickly populated, Hilda, made nervous by +Mr. Orgreave's jocular insinuation that she herself was the object of the +Swetnams' call, took refuge, first with Janet, and then, as Janet was drawn +into the general crowd, with Charlie, who was absently turning over the +pages of "In Memoriam."</p> + +<p>"Know this?" he inquired, friendly, indicating the poem.</p> + +<p>"I don't," she said. "It's splendid, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he answered. "It's rather on the religious tack, you know. +That's why I'm reading it." He smiled oddly.</p> + +<p>"Really?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated, and then nodded. It was the strangest avowal from this +young dandy of twenty-three with the airy and cynical tongue. Hilda +thought: "Here, then, is another!" And her own most secret troubles +recurred to her mind.</p> + +<p>"What's that about Teddy Clayhanger?" Charlie cried out, suddenly +looking up. He had caught the name in a distant conversation.</p> + +<p>Janet explained how they had seen Edwin, and went on to say that it was +impossible to persuade him to call.</p> + +<p>"What rot!" said Charlie. "I bet you what you like I get him here +to-morrow night." He added to Hilda: "Went to school with him!" Hilda's +face burned.</p> + +<p>"I bet you don't," said Janet stoutly, from across the room.</p> + +<p>"I'll bet you a shilling I do," said Charlie.</p> + +<p>"Haven't a penny left," Janet smiled. "Father, will you lend me a +shilling?"</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm here for," said Mr. Orgreave.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Orgreave," the youngest Swetnam put in, "you talk exactly like the +dad talks."</p> + +<p>The bet was made, and according to a singular but long-established +family custom, Tom had to be stake-holder.</p> + +<p>Hilda became troubled and apprehensive. She hoped that Charlie would +lose, and then she hoped that he would win. Looking forward to the intimate +bedroom chat with Janet which brought each evening to a heavenly close, she +said to herself: "If he <i>does</i> come, I shall make Janet promise that +I'm not to be asked to recite or anything. In fact, I shall get her to see +that I'm not discussed."</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b2c5">CHAPTER V</a><br /> EDWIN CLAYHANGER</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>The next evening, Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave, Hilda, Janet, and Alicia were +in the dining-room of the Orgreaves awaiting the advent at the supper-table +of sundry young men whose voices could be heard through open doors in the +distance of the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Charlie Orgreave had won his bet: and Edwin Clayhanger was among those +young men who had remained behind in the drawing-room to exchange, +according to the practice of young men, ideas upon life and the world. +Hilda had been introduced to him, but owing to the performance of another +Beethoven symphony there had been almost no conversation before supper, and +she had not heard him talk. She had stationed herself behind the grand +piano, on the plea of turning over the pages for the musicians (though it +was only with great uncertainty, and in peril of missing the exact instant +for turning, that she followed the music on the page), and from this +security she had furtively glanced at Edwin when her task allowed. "Perhaps +I was quite mistaken last night," she said to herself. "Perhaps he is +perfectly ordinary." The strange thing was that she could not decide +whether he was ordinary or not. At one moment his face presented no +interest, at another she saw it just as she had seen it, framed in the +illuminated aperture of the shop-shutters, on the previous night. Or she +fancied that she saw it thus. The more she tried to distinguish between +Edwin's reality and her fancies concerning Edwin, the less she succeeded. +She would pronounce positively that her fancies were absurd and even +despicable. But this abrupt positiveness did not convince. Supposing that +he was after all marvellous among men! During the day she had taken +advantage of the mention of his name to ascertain discreetly some details +of the legendary feat by which as a boy he had saved his father's +printing-shop from destruction. The details were vague, and not very +comprehensible, but they seemed to indicate on his part an astounding +presence of mind, a heroic promptitude in action. Assuredly, the Orgreaves +regarded him as a creature out of the common run. And at the same time they +all had the air of feeling rather sorry for him.</p> + +<p>Standing near the supper-table, Hilda listened intently for the sound of +his voice among the other voices in the drawing-room. But she could not +separate it from the rest. Perhaps he was keeping silence. She said to +herself: "Yet what do I care whether he is keeping silence or not?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Orgreave remarked, in the suspense, glancing ironically at his +wife:</p> + +<p>"I think I'll go upstairs and do an hour's planning. They aren't likely +to be more than an hour, I expect?"</p> + +<p>"Hilda," said Mrs. Orgreave, quite calm, but taking her husband quite +seriously, "will you please go and tell those young men from me that supper +is waiting?"</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Of course Hilda obeyed, though it appeared strange to her that Mrs. +Orgreave had not sent Alicia on such an errand. Passing out of the bright +dining-room where the gas was lit, she hesitated a moment in the dark broad +corridor that led to the drawing-room. The mission, she felt, would make +her rather prominent in front of Edwin Clayhanger, the stranger, and she +had an objection to being prominent in front of him; she had, indeed, taken +every possible precaution against such a danger. "How silly I am to loiter +here!" she thought. "I might be Alicia!"</p> + +<p>The boys, she could now hear, were discussing French literature, and in +particular Victor Hugo. When she caught the name of Victor Hugo she lifted +her chin, and moved forward a little. She worshipped Victor Hugo with a +passion unreflecting and intense, simply because certain detached lines +from his poems were the most splendid occupants of her memory, dignifying +every painful or sordid souvenir. At last Charlie's clear, gay voice +said:</p> + +<p>"It's all very well, and Victor Hugo <i>is</i> Victor Hugo; but you can +say what you like--there's a lot of this that'll bear skipping, your +worships."</p> + +<p>Already she was at the doorway. In the dusk of the unlighted chamber the +faces of the four Orgreaves and Clayhanger showed like pale patches on the +gloom.</p> + +<p>"Not a line!" she said fiercely, with her extremely clear articulation. +She had no right to make such a statement, for she had not read the +twentieth part of Victor Hugo's work; she did not even know what book they +were discussing--Charlie held the volume lightly in his hand--but she was +incensed against the mere levity of Charlie's tone.</p> + +<p>She saw Edwin Clayhanger jump at the startling interruption. And all +five looked round. She could feel her face burning.</p> + +<p>Charlie quizzed her with a word, and then turned to Edwin Clayhanger for +support. "Don't <i>you</i> think that some of it's dullish, Teddy?"</p> + +<p>Edwin Clayhanger, shamefaced, looked at Hilda wistfully, as if in +apology, as if appealing to her clemency against her fierceness; and said +slowly:</p> + +<p>"Well--yes."</p> + +<p>He had agreed with Charlie; but while disagreeing with Hilda he had +mysteriously proved to her that she had been right in saying to herself on +the previous evening: "<i>I like him</i>."</p> + +<p>The incident appeared to her to be enormous and dramatic. She moved +away, as it were breathless under emotion, and then, remembering her +errand, threw over her shoulder:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Orgreave wants to know when you're coming to supper."</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The supper-table was noisy and joyous--more than usually so on account +of the presence of Charlie, the gayest member of the family. At either end +of the long, white-spread board sat Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave; Alicia stood by +Mr. Orgreave, who accepted her caresses with the negligence of a handsome +father. Along one side sat Hilda, next to Janet, and these two were flanked +by Jimmie and Johnnie, tall, unbending, apparently determined to prove by a +politely supercilious demeanor that to pass a whole evening thus in the +home circle was considered by them to be a concession on their part rather +than a privilege. Edwin Clayhanger sat exactly opposite to Hilda, with +Charlie for sponsor; and Tom's spectacles gleamed close by.</p> + +<p>Hilda, while still constrained, was conscious of pleasure in the scene, +and of a certain pride in forming part of it. These prodigal and splendid +persons respected and liked her, even loved her. Her recitation on the +previous evening had been a triumph. She was glad that she had shown them +that she could at any rate do one thing rather well; but she was equally +glad that she had obtained Janet's promise to avoid any discussion of her +qualities or her situation. After all, with her self-conscious restraint +and her pitiful assured income of three pounds a week, she was a poor +little creature compared with the easy, luxurious beings of this household, +whose upkeep could not cost less than three pounds a day. Janet, in rich +and complicated white, and glistening with jewels at hand and neck, was a +princess beside her. She hated her spare black frock, and for the second +time in her life desired expensive clothes markedly feminine. She felt that +she was at a grave disadvantage, and that to remedy this disadvantage would +be necessary, not only dresses and precious stones, but an instinctive +faculty of soft allurement which she had not. Each gesture of Janet's +showed seductive grace, while her own rare gestures were stiffened by a +kind of masculine harshness. Every time that the sad-eyed and modest Edwin +Clayhanger glanced at Janet, and included herself in the glance, she +fancied that he was unjustly but inevitably misprising herself. And at +length she thought: "Why did I make Janet promise that I shouldn't be +talked about? Why shouldn't he know all about my mourning, and that I'm the +only girl in the Five Towns that can write shorthand. Why should I be +afraid to recite again? However much I might have suffered through +nervousness if I'd recited, I should have shown I'm not such a poor little +thing as all that! Why am I such a baby?" She wilted under her own +disdain.</p> + +<p>It was strange to think that Edwin Clayhanger, scarcely older than the +irresponsible Charlie, was the heir to an important business, was +potentially a rich and influential man. Had not Mr. Orgreave said that old +Mr. Clayhanger could buy up all the Orgreaves if he chose? It was strange +to think that this wistful and apparently timid young man, this nice boy, +would one day be the head of a household, and of a table such as this! Yes, +it would assuredly arrive! Everything happened. And the mother of that +household? Would it be she? Her imagination leaped far into the future, as +she exchanged a quiet, furtive smile with Mrs. Orgreave, and she tried to +see herself as another Mrs. Orgreave, a strenuous and passionate past +behind her, honoured, beloved, teased, adored. But she could not quite see +herself thus. Impossible that she, with her temperament so feverish, +restive, and peculiar, should ever reach such a haven! It was fantastically +too much to expect! And yet, if not with Edwin Clayhanger, then with +another, with some mysterious being whom she had never seen!... Did not +everything happen?... But then, equally, strange and terrible misfortunes +might be lying in wait for her!... The indescribable sharp savour of life +was in her nostrils.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>The conversation had turned upon Bradlaugh, the shameless free-thinker, +the man who had known how to make himself the centre of discussion in every +house in England. This was the Bradlaugh year, the apogee of his notoriety. +Dozens of times at the Cedar's meal-table had she heard the shocking name +of Bradlaugh on outraged tongues, but never once had a word been uttered in +his favour. The public opinion of the boarding-house was absolutely +unanimous in reckoning him a scoundrel. In the dining-room of the Orgreaves +the attitude towards him was different. His free-thought was not precisely +defended, but champions of his right to sit in the House of Commons were +numerous. Hilda grew excited, and even more self-conscious. It was as if +she were in momentary expectation of being challenged by these hardy +debaters: "Are not <i>you</i> a free-thinker?" Her interest was personal; +the interest of one in peril. Compared to the discussions at the Cedars, +this discussion was as the open, tossing, windy sea to a weed-choked canal. +The talk veered into mere profane politics, and Mr. Orgreave, entrenching +himself behind an assumption of careless disdain, was severely attacked by +all his sons except Jimmie, who, above Hilda's left shoulder, pretended to +share the paternal scorn. The indifference of Hilda to politics was +complete. She began to feel less disturbed; she began to dream. Then she +suddenly heard, through her dream, the name of Bradlaugh again; and Edwin +Clayhanger, in response to a direct question from Mr. Orgreave, was +saying:</p> + +<p>"You can't help what you believe. You can't make yourself believe +anything. And I don't see why you should, either. There's no virtue in +believing."</p> + +<p>And Tom was crying "Hooray!"</p> + +<p>Hilda was thunderstruck. She was blinded as though by a mystic +revelation. She wanted to exult, and to exult with all the ardour of her +soul. This truth which Edwin Clayhanger had enunciated she had indeed +always been vaguely aware of; but now in a flash she felt it, she faced it, +she throbbed to its authenticity, and was free. It solved every difficulty, +and loosed the load that for months past had wearied her back. "There's no +virtue in believing." It was fundamental. It was the gift of life and of +peace. Her soul shouted, as she realized that just there, in that instant, +at that table, a new epoch had dawned for her. Never would she forget the +instant and the scene--scene of her re-birth!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Orgreave remonstrated with mild sadness:</p> + +<p>"No virtue in believing! Eh, Mr. Edwin!" And Hilda, under the ageing +lady's grieved glance, tried to quench the exultation on her face, somewhat +like a child trapped. But she could not. Tom again cried "Hooray!" His +tone, however, grated on her sensibility. It lacked emotion. It was the +tone of a pugilist's backer. And Janet permitted herself some pleasantry. +And Charlie became frankly facetious. Was it conceivable that Charlie could +be interested in religion? She liked him very much, partly because he and +she had learnt to understand each other at the dancing-classes, and partly +because his curly hair and his candid smile compelled sympathy. But her +esteem for him had limits. It was astonishing that a family otherwise +simply perfect should be content with jocosity when jocosity was so +obviously out of place. Were they, then, afraid of being serious?... Edwin +Clayhanger was not laughing; he had blushed. Her eyes were fixed on him +with the extremest intensity, studying him, careless of the danger that his +gaze might catch hers. She was lost in him. And then, he caught her; and, +burning with honest shame, she looked downwards.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b2c6">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> IN THE GARDEN</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>That evening Janet did not stay long in Hilda's bedroom, having +perceived that Hilda was in one of her dark, dreamy moods.</p> + +<p>As soon as she was gone, Hilda lowered the gas a little, and then went +to the window, and opened it wider, and, drawing aside the blind, looked +forth. The night was obscure and warm; and a wet wind moved furtively about +in the elm-trees of the garden. The window was at the side of the house; it +gave on the west, and commanded the new house just finished by Mr. Orgreave +for the Clayhanger family. The block of this generously planned dwelling +rose massively at a distance of perhaps forty feet, dwarfing a whole row of +cottages in the small street behind Lane End House; its various chimneypots +stood out a deeper black against the enigmatic sky. Beyond the Clayhanger +garden-plot, as yet uncultivated, and its high boundary wall, ran the great +silent thoroughfare, Trafalgar Road, whose gas-lamps reigned in the +nocturnal silence that the last steam-car had left in its wake.</p> + +<p>Hilda gazed at the house; and it seemed strange to her that the house, +which but a short time ago had no existence whatever, and was yet cold and +soulless, was destined to be the living home of a family, with history in +its walls and memories clinging about it. The formidable magic of life was +always thus discovering itself to her, so that she could not look upon even +an untenanted, terra-cotta-faced villa without a secret thrill; and the +impenetrable sky above was not more charmed and enchanted than those brick +walls. When she reflected that one day the wistful, boyish Edwin Clayhanger +would be the master of that house, that in that house his will would be +stronger than any other will, the mystery that hides beneath the surface of +all things surged up and overwhelmed thought. And although scarcely a +couple of hours had elapsed since the key of the new life had been put into +her hands, she could not make an answer when she asked herself: "Am I happy +or unhappy?"</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The sound of young men's voices came round the corner of the house from +the lawn. Some of the brothers Orgreave were saying good-night to Edwin +Clayhanger in the porch. She knew that they had been chatting a long time +in the hall, after Clayhanger had bidden adieu to the rest of the family. +She wondered what they had been talking about, and what young men did in +general talk about when they were by themselves and confidential. In her +fancy she endowed their conversations with the inexplicable attractiveness +of masculinity, as masculinity is understood by women alone. She had an +intense desire to overhear such a conversation, and she felt that she would +affront the unguessed perils of it with delight, drinking it up eagerly, +every drop, even were the draught deadly. Meanwhile, the mere inarticulate +sound of those distant voices pleased her, and she was glad that she was +listening and that the boys knew it not.</p> + +<p>Silence succeeded the banging of the front door. And then, after a +pause, she was startled to hear the crunching of gravel almost under her +window. In alarm she dropped the blind, but continued to peer between the +edge of the blind and the window-frame. At one point the contiguous +demesnes of the Orgreaves and the Clayhangers were separated only by a +poor, sparse hedge, a few yards in length. Somebody was pushing his way +through this hedge. It was Edwin Clayhanger. Despite the darkness of the +night she could be sure that the dim figure was Edwin Clayhanger's by the +peculiar, exaggerated swing of the loose arms. He passed the hedge, +carelessly brushed his clothes with his hands, and walked slowly up the +Clayhanger garden towards the new house, and in the deep shadow of the +house was lost. Still, she could catch vague noises of movement. In a state +of extreme excitation she wondered what he could be doing. It seemed to her +that he and she were sharing the night together.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>She thought:</p> + +<p>"I would give anything to be able to speak to him privately and ask him +a little more about what he said to-night. I ought to. I may never see him +again. At any rate, I may never have another chance. He may have meant +something else. He may not have been serious...." The skin of her face +prickled, and a physical wave of emotion seemed to sweep downwards through +her whole body. The thrill was exquisite, but it was intimidating.</p> + +<p>She whispered to herself:</p> + +<p>"I could go downstairs and outside, and find him, and just ask him."</p> + +<p>The next instant she was opening the door of her bedroom.... No, all the +household had not yet retired, for a light was still burning in the +corridor. Nevertheless she might go. She descended the stairs, asking +herself aghast: "Why am I doing this?" Another light was burning in the +hall, and through the slit of the half-shut door of the breakfast-room she +could see light. She stood hesitant. Then she heard the striking of a match +in the breakfast-room, and she boldly pushed the door open. Tom, with a +book before him, was lighting his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" he said. "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing!" she replied. "Only, I'm just going to walk about in the +garden a minute. I shan't go to sleep unless I do." She spoke quite +easily.</p> + +<p>"All serene!" he agreed. "So long as you keep off the grass! It's bound +to be damp. I'll unchain the door for you, shall I?"</p> + +<p>She said that she could unfasten the door for herself, and he did not +insist. The hospitality of the Orgreaves was never irksome. Tom had +scarcely half-risen from his chair.</p> + +<p>"I shan't be long," she added casually.</p> + +<p>"That's all right, Hilda," he said. "I'm not going to bed just yet."</p> + +<p>"All the others gone?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. She pulled the door to, tripped delicately through the hall, +and unchained the heavy front door as quietly as she could.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>She was outside, amid all the influences of the night. Gradually her +eyes accustomed themselves again to the gloom. She passed along the facade +of the house until she came to the corner, where the breeze surprised her, +and whence she could discern the other house and, across the indistinct +hedge, the other garden. Where was Edwin Clayhanger? Was he wandering in +the other garden, or had he entered the house? Then a brief flare lit up a +lower window of the dark mass for a few instants. He was within. She +hesitated. Should she go forward, or should she go back? At length she went +forward, and, finding in the hedge the gap which Clayhanger had made, +forced her way through it. Her skirt was torn by an obstinate twig. Quite +calmly she bent down and with her fingers examined the rent; it was not +important. She was now in the garden of the Clayhangers, and he whom she +sought was moving somewhere in the house. "Supposing I <i>do</i> meet him," +she thought, "what shall I say to him?" She did not know what she should +say to him, nor why she had entered upon this singular adventure. But the +consciousness of self, the fine, disturbing sense of being alive in every +vein and nerve, was a rich reward for her audacity. She wished that that +tense moment of expectation might endure for ever.</p> + +<p>She approached the house, trembling. It was not by volition that she +walked over the uneven clayey ground, but by instinct. She was in front of +the garden-porch, and here she hesitated again, apparently waiting for a +sign from the house. She glanced timidly about her, as though in fear of +marauders that might spring out upon her from the shadow. Just over the +boundary wall the placid flame of a gas-lamp peeped. Then, feeling with her +feet for the steps, she ascended into the shelter of the porch. Almost at +the same moment there was another flare behind the glass of the door; she +heard the sound of unlatching; the flare expired. She was absolutely +terror-struck now.</p> + +<p>The door opened, grating on some dirt or gravel.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" demanded a queer, shaking voice.</p> + +<p>She could see his form.</p> + +<p>"Me!" she answered, in a harsh tone which was the expression of her +dismay.</p> + +<p>The deed was done, irretrievably. In her bedroom she had said that she +would try to speak with him, and lo! they were face to face, in the dark, +in secret! Her terror was now, at any rate, desperately calm. She had +plunged; she was falling into the deep sea; she was hopelessly cut off from +the past.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" came the uncertain voice weakly. "Did you want me? Did anyone want +me?"</p> + +<p>She heard the door being closed behind him.</p> + +<p>She told him, with peculiar curtness, how she had seen him from her +window, and how she wished to ask him an important question.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you think it's very queer of me," she added.</p> + +<p>"Not at all," he said, with an insincerity that annoyed her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do!" she sharply insisted. "But I want to know"--what did she +want to know?--"I want to know--did you mean it when you said--you know, at +supper--that there's no virtue in believing?"</p> + +<p>He stammered: "Did I say there was no virtue in believing?"</p> + +<p>She cried out, irritated: "Of course you did! Do you mean to say you can +say a thing like that and then forget about it? If it's true, it's one of +the most wonderful things that were ever said. And that's why I wanted to +know if you meant it, of whether you were only saying it because it sounded +clever."</p> + +<p>She stopped momentarily, wondering why she was thus implying an untruth; +for the fact was that she had never doubted that he had been in +earnest.</p> + +<p>"That's what they're always doing in that house, you know--being +clever!" she went on, in a tone apparently inimical to 'that house.'</p> + +<p>"Yes," came the voice. "I meant it. Why?"</p> + +<p>And the voice was so simple and so sincere that it pierced straight to +her heart and changed her secret mood swiftly to the religious, so that she +really was occupied by the thoughts with which, a moment previously, she +had only pretended to be occupied; and the splendour of the revelation was +renewed. Nevertheless, some impulse, perverse or defensive, compelled her +to assume a doubt of his assurance. She suspected that, had she not adopted +this tactic, she might have melted before him in gratitude.</p> + +<p>"You did?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>She thanked him, after that, rather coldly; and they talked a little +about the mere worry of these religious questions. He protested that they +never worried him, and reaffirmed his original proposition.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are right," she said softly, in a thrilled voice. She was +thinking that this was the most wonderful, miraculous experience that she +had ever had.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>"Now," she thought, "I must go back." Inwardly she gave a delicious +sigh.</p> + +<p>But just as she was about to take her prim leave, the scarce-discerned +figure of her companion stepped out into the garden.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" said Edwin Clayhanger. "It's beginning to rain, I do +believe."</p> + +<p>The wind blew, and she felt rain on her cheek. Clayhanger advised her to +stand against the other wall of the porch for better protection. She +obeyed. He re-entered the porch, but was still exposed to the rain. She +called him to her side. Already he was so close that she could have touched +his shoulder by outstretching her arm.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I'm all right!" he said lightly, and did not move.</p> + +<p>"You needn't be afraid of me!" She was hurt that he had refused her +invitation to approach her. The next instant she would have given her +tongue not to have uttered those words. But she was in such a tingling +state of extreme sensitiveness as rendered it impossible for her to +exercise a normal self-control.</p> + +<p>Scarcely conscious of what she did, she asked him the time. He struck a +match to look at his watch. The wind blew the match out, but she saw his +wistful face, with his disordered hair under the hat. It had the quality of +a vision.</p> + +<p>He offered to get a light in the house, but abruptly she said good +night.</p> + +<p>Then they were shaking hands--she knew not how or why. She could not +loose his hand. She thought: "Never have I held a hand so honest as this +hand." At last she dropped it. They stood silent while a trap rattled up +Trafalgar Road. It was as if she was bound to remain moveless until the +sounds of the trap had died away.</p> + +<p>She walked proudly out into the rain. He called to her: "I say, Miss +Lessways!" But she did not stop.</p> + +<p>In a minute she was back again in Lane End House.</p> + +<p>"That you?" Tom's voice from the breakfast-room!</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered clearly. "I've put the chain on. Good night."</p> + +<p>"Good night. Thanks."</p> + +<p>She ascended the stairs, smiling to herself, with the raindrops fresh on +her cheek. In her mind were no distinct thoughts, either concerning the +non-virtue of belief, or the new epoch, or Edwin Clayhanger, or even the +strangeness of her behaviour. But all her being vibrated to the mysterious +and beautiful romance of existence.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b2c7">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> THE NEXT MEETING</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>For several days the town of Bursley was to Hilda simply a place made +perilous and redoubtable by the apprehension of meeting Edwin Clayhanger +accidentally in the streets thereof. And the burden of her meditations was: +"What can he have thought of me?" She had said nothing to anybody of the +deliberately-sought adventure in the garden. And with the strangest +ingenuous confidence she assumed that Edwin Clayhanger, too, would keep an +absolute silence about it. She had therefore naught to fear, except in the +privacy of his own mind. She did not blame herself--it never occurred to +her to do so--but she rather wondered at herself, inimically, prophesying +that one day her impulsiveness would throw her into some serious +difficulty. The memory of the night beautifully coloured her whole daily +existence. In spite of her avoidance of the town, due to her dread of +seeing Clayhanger, she was constantly thinking: "But this cannot continue +for ever. One day I am bound to meet him again." And she seemed to be +waiting for that day.</p> + +<p>It came with inevitable quickness. The last day but one of June was +appointed throughout the country for the celebration of the Centenary of +Sunday Schools. Neither Hilda nor any of the Orgreave children had ever +seen the inside of a Sunday School; and the tendency up at Lane End House +was to condescend towards the festival as towards a rejoicing of the +proletariat. But in face of the magnitude of the affair, looming more +enormous as it approached, this attitude could not be maintained. The +preparations for the Centenary filled newspapers and changed the +physiognomy of towns. And on the morning of the ceremonial service, +gloriously flattered by the sun, there was candid excitement at the +breakfast-table of the Orgreaves. Mr. Orgreave regretted that pressure of +work would prevent him from seeing the fun. Tom was going to see the fun at +Hanbridge. Jimmie and Johnnie were going to see the fun, but they would not +say where. The servants were going to see the fun. Charlie had returned to +London. Alicia wanted to go and see the fun, but as she was flushed and +feverish, Mrs. Orgreave forbade and decided to remain at home with Alicia. +Otherwise, even Mrs. Orgreave would have gone to see the fun. Hilda and +Janet apparently hesitated about going, but Mr. Orgreave, pointing out that +there could not under the most favourable circumstance be another Centenary +of Sunday Schools for at least a hundred years, sarcastically urged them to +set forth. The fact was, as Janet teasingly told him while she hung on his +neck, that he wished to accentuate as much as possible his own martyrdom to +industry. Were not all the shops and offices of the Five Towns closed? Did +not every member of his family, save those detained by illness, attend the +historic spectacle of the Centenary? He alone had sacrificed pleasure to +work. Thus Janet's loving, ironic smiles foretold, would the father of the +brood discourse during the next few days.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Hilda and Janet accordingly went down a be-flagged and sunlit Trafalgar +Road together. Janet was wearing still another white dress, and Hilda, to +her marked relief, had abandoned black for a slate-coloured frock made by a +dressmaker in Bleakridge. It was Mrs. Orgreave herself who had first +counselled Hilda, if she hated black, as she said she did, to abandon +black. The entire family chorus had approved.</p> + +<p>The risk of encountering Edwin Clayhanger on that day of multitudes was +surely infinitesimal. Nevertheless, in six minutes the improbable had +occurred. At the corner of Trafalgar Road and Duck Square Janet, attracted +by the sight of banners in the distance, turned to the left along Wedgwood +Street and past the front of Clayhanger's shop. Theoretically shops were +closed, but one shutter of Clayhanger's was down, and in its place stood +Edwin Clayhanger. Hilda felt her features stiffening into a sort of wilful +and insincere hostility as she shook hands. Within the darkness of the shop +she saw the figure of two dowdy women--doubtless the sisters of whom Janet +had told her; they disappeared before Janet and Hilda entered.</p> + +<p>"It has happened! I have seen him again!" Hilda said to herself as she +sat in the shop listening to Janet and to Edwin Clayhanger. It appeared +likely that Edwin Clayhanger would join them in the enterprise of +witnessing the historic spectacle.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later everybody was startled by the gay apparition of +Osmond Orgreave swinging his cane. Curiosity had been too much for +industriousness, and Osmond Orgreave had yielded himself to the general +interest.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Father!" cried Janet. "What a deceitful thing you are!"</p> + +<p>"Only a day or two ago," Hilda was thinking, "I had never even heard of +him. And his shop seemed so strange and romantic to me. And now I am +sitting in his shop like an old friend. And nobody suspects that he and I +have had a secret meeting!" The shop itself seemed to be important and +prosperous.</p> + +<p>Mr. Orgreave, having decided for pleasure, was anxious to find it at +once, and, under his impatience, they left the shop. Janet went out first +with her gay father. Edwin Clayhanger waited respectfully for Hilda to +pass. But just as she was about to step forth she caught sight of George +Cannon coming along the opposite side of Wedgwood Street in the direction +of Trafalgar Road; he was in close conversation with another man. She kept +within the shelter of the shop until the two had gone by. She did not want +to meet George Cannon, with whom she had not had speech since the interview +at the Cedars; he had written to her about the property sales, and she had +replied. There was no reason why she should hesitate to meet him. But she +wished not to complicate the situation. She thought: "If he saw me, he'd +come across and speak to me, and I might have to introduce him to all these +people, and goodness knows what!" The contretemps caused her heart to +beat.</p> + +<p>When they emerged from the shop Janet, a few yards ahead with Mr. +Orgreave, was beckoning.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Hilda stood on a barrel by the side of Edwin Clayhanger on another +barrel. There, from the top of St. Luke's Square, they surveyed a vast +rectangular carpet of upturned faces that made a pattern of pale dots on a +coloured and black groundwork. Nearly all the children of Bursley, +thousands upon thousands, were massed in the Square, wedged in tight +together, so that there seemed not to be an inch of space anywhere between +the shuttered shop fronts on the east of the Square and the shuttered shop +fronts on the west of the Square. At the bottom of the Square a row of +railway lorries were crammed with tiny babes--or such they +appeared--toddlers too weak to walk in processions. At the top of the +Square a large platform full of bearded adults rose like an island out of +the unconscious sea of infants. And from every window of every house adults +looked down in safe ease upon that wavy ocean over which banners gleamed in +the dazzling and fierce sunshine.</p> + +<p>She might have put up her sunshade. But she would not do so. She +thought: "If all those children can stand the sun without fainting, I can!" +She was extraordinarily affected by the mere sight of the immense multitude +of children; they were as helpless and as fatalistic as sheep, utterly at +the mercy of the adults who had herded them. There was about them a +collective wistfulness that cut the heart; to dwell on the idea of it would +have brought her to tears. And when the multitude sang, so lustily, so +willingly, so bravely, pouring forth with the brass instruments a volume of +tone enormous and majestic, she had a tightness of the throat that was +excrutiating. The Centenary of Sunday Schools was quite other than she had +expected; she had not bargained for these emotions.</p> + +<p>It was after the hymn "There is a fountain filled with blood," during +the quietude of a speech, that Edwin Clayhanger, taking up an evangelistic +phrase in the speech, whispered to her:</p> + +<p>"More blood!"</p> + +<p>"What?" she asked, amazed by his ironical accent, which jarred on her +mood, and also by his familiar manner of leaning towards her and dropping +the words in her ear.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said. "Look at it! It only wants the Ganges at the bottom of +the Square!"</p> + +<p>Evidently for Edwin Clayhanger all religions were equally heathenish! +She was quite startled out of her amazement, and her response was an almost +humble entreaty not to make fun. The next moment she regretted that she had +not answered him with sharp firmness. She was somewhat out of humour with +him. He had begun by losing sight of Mr. Orgreave and Janet--and of course +it was hopeless to seek for them in those thronging streets around St. +Luke's Square. Then he had said to her, in a most peculiar tone: "I hope +you didn't catch cold in the rain the other night," and she had not liked +that. She had regarded it as a fault in tact, almost as a sexual disloyalty +on his part to refer at all to the scene in the garden. Finally, his way of +negotiating with the barrel man for the use of two barrels had been +lacking, for Hilda, in the qualities of largeness and masterfulness; any +one of the Orgreave boys would, she was sure, have carried the thing off in +a more worldly manner.</p> + +<p>The climax of the service came with the singing of "When I survey the +wondrous Cross." The physical effect of it on Hilda was nearly +overwhelming. The terrible and sublime words seemed to surge upon her +charged with all the multitudinous significance of the crowd. She was +profoundly stirred, and to prevent an outburst of tears she shook her +head.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" said Edwin Clayhanger.</p> + +<p>"Clumsy dolt!" she thought. "Haven't you got enough sense to leave me +alone?" And she said aloud, passionately transforming her weakness into +ferocity: "That's the most splendid religious verse ever written! You can +say what you like. It's worth while believing anything, if you can sing +words like that and mean them!"</p> + +<p>He agreed that the hymn was fine.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who wrote it?" she demanded threateningly.</p> + +<p>He did not. She was delighted.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Watts, of course!" she said, with a scornful sneer. What did Janet +mean by saying that he had read simply everything?</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>An episode which supervened close to their barrels did a great deal to +intensify the hostility of her mood. On the edge of the crowd an old man, +who had been trying to force his way through it, was being guyed by a gang +of louts who had surrounded an ice-cream barrow. Suddenly she recognized +this old man. His name was Shushions; he was a familiar figure of the +streets of Turnhill, and he had the reputation of being the oldest Sunday +School teacher in the Five Towns. He was indeed exceedingly old, foolish, +and undignified in senility; and the louts were odiously jeering at his +defenceless dotage, and a young policeman was obviously with the louts and +against the aged, fatuous victim.</p> + +<p>Hilda gave an exclamation of revolt, and called upon Edwin Clayhanger to +go to the rescue of Mr. Shushions. Not he, however, but she jumped down +first and pushed towards the barrow. She made the path, and he followed. +She protested to the policeman, and he too modestly seconded her. Yet the +policeman, ignoring her, addressed himself to Edwin Clayhanger. Hilda was +infuriated. It appeared that old Mr. Shushions had had a ticket for the +platform, but had lost it.</p> + +<p>"He must be got on to the platform somehow!" she decided, with a fiery +glance.</p> + +<p>But Edwin Clayhanger seemed to be incapable of an heroic action. He +hesitated. The policeman hesitated. Fortunately, the plight of the doting +oldest Sunday School teacher in the Five Towns had been observed from the +platform, and two fussy, rosetted officials bustled up and offered to take +charge of him. And Hilda, dissolving in painful pity, bent over him softly +and arranged his disordered clothes; she was weeping.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go back to our barrels?" Edwin Clayhanger rather sheepishly +suggested after Mr. Shushions had been dragged away.</p> + +<p>But she would not go back to the barrels.</p> + +<p>"I think it's time we set about to find Janet and Mr. Orgreave," she +replied coldly, and they drew out of the crowd. She was profoundly deceived +in Edwin Clayhanger, so famous for his presence of mind in saving +printing-shops from destruction! She did not know what he ought to have +done; she made no attempt to conceive what he ought to have done. But that +he ought to have done something--something decisive and grandly +masculine--she was sure.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Later, after sundry adventures, and having found Mr. Orgreave and Janet, +they stood at the tail of the steam-car, which Janet had decided should +carry her up to Bleakridge; and Edwin shook hands. Yes, Hilda was +profoundly deceived in him. Nevertheless, his wistful and honest glance, as +he parted from her, had its effect. If he had not one quality, he had +another. She tried hard to maintain her scorn of him, but it was +exceedingly difficult to do so.</p> + +<p>Mr. Orgreave wiped his brow as the car jolted them out of the tumult of +the Centenary. It was hot, but he did not seem to be in the slightest +degree fatigued or dispirited, whereas Janet put back her head and shut her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Caught sight of a friend of yours this morning, Hilda!" he said +pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Mr. Cannon. By the way, I forgot to tell you yesterday that his +famous newspaper--<i>yours</i>--has come to an end." He spoke, as it were, +with calm sympathy. "Yes! Well, it's not surprising, not surprising! +Nothing's ever stood up against the <i>Signal</i> yet!"</p> + +<p>Hilda was saddened. When they reached Lane End House, a few seconds in +front of the hurrying and apologetic servants, Mrs. Orgreave told her that +Mr. George Cannon had called to see her, and had left a note for her. She +ran up to her room with the note. It said merely that the writer wished to +have an interview with her at once.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="b3">BOOK III</a><br /> HER BURDEN</h1> + + + + +<h2><a name="b3c1">CHAPTER I</a><br /> HILDA INDISPENSABLE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Hilda made no response of any kind to George Cannon's request for an +immediate interview, allowing day after day to pass in inactivity, and +wondering the while how she might excuse or explain her singular conduct +when circumstances should bring the situation to a head. She knew that she +ought either to go over to Turnhill, or write him with an appointment to +see her at Lane End House; but she did nothing; nor did she say a word of +the matter to Janet in the bedroom at nights. All that she could tell +herself was that she did not want to see George Cannon; she was not +honestly persuaded that she feared to see him. In the meantime, Edwin +Clayhanger was invisible, though the removal of the Clayhanger household to +the new residence at Bleakridge had made a considerable stir of straw and +litter in Trafalgar Road.</p> + +<p>On Tuesday in the following week she received a letter from Sarah +Gailey. It was brought up to her room early in the morning by a +half-dressed Alicia Orgreave, and she read it as she lay in bed. Sarah +Gailey, struggling with the complexities of the Cedars, away in Hornsey, +was unwell and gloomily desolate. She wrote that she suffered from terrible +headaches on waking, and that she was often feverish, and that she had no +energy whatever. "I am at a very trying age for a woman," she said. "I +don't know whether you understand, but I've come to a time of life that +really upsets one above a bit, and I'm fit for nothing." Hilda understood; +she was flattered, even touched, by this confidence; it made her feel +older, and more important in the world, and a whole generation away from +Alicia, who was drawing up the blind with the cries and awkward gestures of +a prattling infant. To the letter there was a postscript: "Has George been +to see you yet about me? He wrote me he should, but I haven't heard since. +In fact, I've been waiting to hear. I'll say nothing about that yet. I'm +ashamed you should be bothered. It's so important for you to have a good +holiday. Again, much love, S.G." The prim handwriting got smaller and +smaller towards the end of the postscript and the end of the page, and the +last lines were perfectly parallel with the lower edge of the paper; all +the others sloped feebly downwards from left to right.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" piped Alicia from the window. "Maggie Clayhanger has got her +curtains up in the drawing-room! Oh! Aren't they proud things! +<i>Oh</i>!--I do believe she's caught me staring at her!" And Alicia +withdrew abruptly into the room, blushing for her detected sin of ungenteel +curiosity. She bumped down on the bed. "Three days more," she said. "Not +counting to-day. Four, counting to-day."</p> + +<p>"School?"</p> + +<p>Alicia nodded, her finger in her mouth. "Isn't it horrid, going to +school on a day like this? I hear you and Janet are off up to Hillport this +afternoon again, to play tennis. You do have times!"</p> + +<p>"No," said Hilda. "I've got to go to Turnhill this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"But Janet told me you were--" Her glance fell on the letter. "Is it +business?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>The child was impressed, and her change of tone, her frank awe, gave +pleasure to Hilda's vanity. "Shall I go and tell Jane? She isn't near +dressed."</p> + +<p>"Yes, do."</p> + +<p>Off scampered Alicia, leaving the door unlatched behind her.</p> + +<p>Hilda gazed at the letter, holding it limply in her left hand amid the +soft disorder of the counterpane. It had come to her, an intolerably +pathetic messenger and accuser, out of the exacerbating frowsiness of the +Cedars. Yesterday afternoon care-ridden Sarah Gailey was writing it, with +sighs, at the desk in her stuffy, uncomfortable bedroom. As Hilda gazed at +the formation of the words, she could see the unhappy Sarah Gailey writing +them, and the letter was like a bit of Sarah Gailey's self, magically and +disconcertingly projected into the spacious, laughing home of the +Orgreaves, and into the mysterious new happiness that was forming around +Hilda. The Orgreaves, so far as Hilda could discover, had no real +anxieties. They were a joyous lot, favoured alike by temperament and by +fortune. And she, Hilda--what real anxieties had she? None! She was sure of +a small but adequate income. Her grief for her mother was assuaged. The +problem of her soul no longer troubled: in part it had been solved, and in +part it had faded imperceptibly away. Nor was she exercised about the +future, about the 'new life.' Instead of rushing ardently to meet the +future, she felt content to wait for its coming. Why disturb oneself? She +was free. She was enjoying existence with the Orgreaves. Yes, she was happy +in this roseate passivity.</p> + +<p>The letter shook her, arousing as it did the sharp sense of her +indebtedness to Sarah Gailey, who alone had succoured her in her long +period of despairing infelicity. Had she guessed that it was Sarah Gailey's +affair upon which George Cannon had desired to see her, she would not have +delayed an hour; no reluctance to meet George Cannon would have caused her +to tarry. But she had not guessed; the idea had never occurred to her.</p> + +<p>She rose, picked up the envelope from the carpet, carefully replaced the +letter in it, and laid it with love on the glittering dressing-table. +Through the unlatched door she heard a tramping of unshod masculine feet in +the passage, and the delightful curt greeting of Osmond Orgreave and his +sleepy son Jimmie--splendid powerful males. She glanced at the garden, and +at the garden of the Clayhangers, swimming in fresh sunshine. She glanced +in the mirror, and saw the deshabille of her black hair and of her insecure +nightgown, and thought: "Truly, I am not so bad-looking! And how well I +feel! How fond they all are of me! I'm just at the right age. I'm young, +but I'm mature. I've had a lot of experience, and I'm not a fool. I'm +strong--I could stand anything!" She put her shoulders back, with a +challenging gesture. The pride of life was hers.</p> + +<p>And then, this disturbing vision of Sarah Gailey, alone, unhappy, +unattractive, enfeebled, ageing--ageing! It seemed to her inexpressibly +cruel that people must grow old and weak and desolate; it seemed monstrous. +A pang, momentary but excruciating, smote her. She said to herself: "Sarah +Gailey has nothing to look forward to, except worry. Sarah Gailey is at the +end, instead of at the beginning!"</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>When she got off the train at Turnhill station, early that afternoon, +she had no qualm at the thought of meeting George Cannon; she was not even +concerned to invent a decent excuse for her silence in relation to his +urgent letter. She went to see him for the sake of Sarah Gailey, and +because she apparently might be of use in some affair of Sarah's--she knew +not what. She was proud that either Sarah or he thought that she could be +of use, or that it was worth while consulting her. She had a grave air, as +of one to whom esteem has brought responsibilities.</p> + +<p>In Child Street, leading to High Street, she passed the office of +Godlimans, the auctioneers. And there, among a group of white posters +covering the large window, was a poster of the sale of "valuable household +furniture and effects removed from No. 15 Lessways Street." And on the +poster, in a very black line by itself, stood out saliently the phrase: +"Massive Bedroom Suite." Her mother's! Hers! She had to stop and read the +poster through, though she was curiously afraid of being caught in the act. +All the principal items were mentioned by the faithful auctioneers; and the +furniture, thus described, had a strange aspect of special importance, as +if it had been subtly better, more solid, more desirable, than any other +houseful of furniture in the town,--Lessways' furniture! She sought for the +date. The sale had taken place on the previous night, at the very hour when +she was lolling and laughing in the drawing-room of Lane End House with the +Orgreaves! The furniture was sold, dispersed, gone! The house was empty! +The past was irremediably closed! The realization of this naturally +affected her, raising phantoms of her mother, and of the face of the +cab-driver as he remarked on the drawn blinds at the Cedars. But she was +still more affected by the thought that the poster was on the window, and +the furniture scattered, solely because she had willed it. She had said: +"Please sell all the furniture, and you needn't consult me about the sale. +I don't want to know. I prefer not to know. Just get it done." And it had +been done! How mysteriously romantic! Some girls would not have sold the +furniture, would not have dared to sell it, would have accepted the +furniture and the house as a solemn charge, and gone on living among those +relics, obedient to a tradition. But she had dared! She had willed--and the +solid furniture had vanished away! And she was adventurously free!</p> + +<p>She went forward. At the corner of Child Street and High Street the new +Town Hall was rising to the skies. Already its walls were higher than the +highest house in the vicinity. And workmen were crawling over it, amid +dust, and a load of crimson bricks was trembling and revolving upwards on a +thin rope that hung down from the blue. Glimpses of London had modified old +estimates of her native town. Nevertheless, the new Town Hall still +appeared extraordinarily large and important to her.</p> + +<p>She saw the detested Arthur Dayson in the distance of the street, and +crossed hurriedly to the Square, looking fixedly at the storeys above the +ironmonger's so that Arthur Dayson could not possibly catch her eye. There +was no sign of the <i>Five Towns Chronicle</i> in the bare windows of the +second storey. This did not surprise her; but she was startled by the +absence of the Karkeek wire-blinds from the first-floor windows, equally +bare with those of the second. When she got to the entrance she was still +more startled to observe that the Karkeek brass-plate had been removed. She +climbed the long stairs apprehensively.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>"Anybody here?" she called out timidly. She was in the clerk's office, +which was empty; but she could hear movements in another room. The place +seemed in process of being dismantled.</p> + +<p>Suddenly George Cannon appeared in a doorway, frowning.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Cannon!"</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Miss Lessways." He spoke with stiff politeness. His +face looked weary.</p> + +<p>After a slight hesitation he advanced, and they shook hands. Hilda was +nervous. Her neglect of his letter now presented itself to her as +inexcusable. She thought: "If he is vexed about it I shall have to humour +him. I really can't blame him. He must think me very queer."</p> + +<p>"I was wondering what had become of you," he said, amply polite, but not +cordial.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "every day I was expecting you to call again, or to +send me a note or something.... And what with one thing and another--"</p> + +<p>"I dare say your time's been fully occupied," he filled up her pause. +And she fancied that he spoke in a peculiar tone. She absurdly fancied that +he was referring to the time which she had publicly spent with Edwin +Clayhanger at the Centenary. She conceived that he might have seen her and +Edwin Clayhanger together.</p> + +<p>"I had a letter from Miss Gailey this morning," she said. "And it seems +that it's about her that you wanted--"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I do wish I'd known. If I'd had the slightest idea I should have come +over instantly." She spoke with eager seriousness, and then added, smiling +as if in appeal to be favourably understood: "I thought it was only about +<i>my</i> affairs--sale or what not. And as I'd asked you to manage all +these things exactly as you thought best, I didn't trouble--"</p> + +<p>He laughed, and either forgave or forgot.</p> + +<p>"Will you come this way?" he invited, in a new tone of friendliness. +"We're rather in a mess here."</p> + +<p>"You're all alone, too," she said, following him into his room.</p> + +<p>"Sowter's out," he answered laconically, waiting for her to precede him. +He said nothing as to the office-boy, nor as to Mr. Karkeek. Hilda was now +sure that something strange had happened.</p> + +<p>"So you've heard from Sarah, have you?" he began, when they were both +seated in his own room. There were still a lot of papers, though fewer than +of old, on the broad desk; but the bookcase was quite empty, and several of +the shelves in it had supped from the horizontal; the front part of the +shelves was a pale yellow, and behind that, an irregular dark band of dust +indicated the varying depths of the vanished tomes. The forlornness of the +bookcase gave a stricken air to the whole room.</p> + +<p>"She's not well."</p> + +<p>"Or she imagines she's not well."</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" said Hilda warmly. "It isn't imagination. She really isn't +well."</p> + +<p>"You think so?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think--I know!" Hilda spoke proudly, but with the restraint +which absolute certainty permits. She crushed, rather than resented, George +Cannon's easy insinuation, full of the unjustified superiority of the male. +How could he judge--how could any man judge? She had never before felt so +sure of herself, so adult and experienced, as she felt then.</p> + +<p>"But it's nothing serious?" he suggested with deference.</p> + +<p>"N--no--not what you'd call serious," said Hilda judicially, +mysteriously.</p> + +<p>"Because she wants to give up the boarding-house business +altogether--that's all!"</p> + +<p>Having delivered this dramatic blow, George Cannon smiled, as it were, +quizzically. And Hilda was reassured about him. She had been thinking: "Is +he ruined? If he is not ruined, what is the meaning of these puzzling +changes here?" And she had remembered her shrewd mother's hints, and her +own later fears, concerning the insecurity of his position: and had studied +his tired and worn face for an equivocal sign. But this smile, +self-confident and firm, was not the smile of a ruined man; and his +flashing glance seemed to be an omen of definite success.</p> + +<p>"Wants to give it up?" exclaimed Hilda.</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"But why? I thought she was doing rather well."</p> + +<p>"So she is."</p> + +<p>"Then why?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" George Cannon lifted his head with a gesture signifying enigma. +"That's just what I wanted to ask you. Hasn't she said anything to +you?"</p> + +<p>"As to giving it up? No!... So it was this that you wanted to see me +about?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "She wrote me a few days after you came away, and suggested I +should see you and ask you what you thought."</p> + +<p>"But why me?"</p> + +<p>"Well, she thinks the world of you, Sarah does."</p> + +<p>Hilda thought: "How strange! She did nothing but look after me, and wait +on me hand and foot, and I never helped her in any way; and yet she turns +to me!" And she was extremely flattered and gratified, and was aware of a +delicious increase of self-respect.</p> + +<p>"But supposing she does give it up?" Hilda said aloud. "What will she +do?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly!" said George Cannon, and then, in a very confidential, +ingratiating manner: "I wish you'd write to her and put some reason into +her. She mustn't give it up. With her help--and you know in the management +she's simply wonderful--with her help, I think I shall be able to bring +something about that'll startle folks. Only, she mustn't throw me over. And +she mustn't get too crotchety with the boarders. I've had some difficulty +in that line, as it is. In fact, I've had to be rather cross. You know +about the Boutwoods, for instance! Well, I've smoothed that over.... It's +nothing, nothing--if she'll keep her head. If she'll keep her head it's a +gold mine--you'll see! Only--she wants a bit of managing. If you'd +write--"</p> + +<p>"I shan't write," said Hilda. "I shall go and see her--at once. I should +have gone in any case, after her letter this morning saying how unwell she +is. She wants company. She was so kind to me I couldn't possibly leave her +in the lurch. I can't very well get away to-day, but I shall go to-morrow, +and I shall drop her a line to-night."</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you, I'm sure," said George Cannon. Obviously he was +much relieved.</p> + +<p>"Not at all!" Hilda protested. She felt very content and happy.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," he went on, "there's nobody but you can do it. Your +mother was the only real friend she ever had. And this is the first time +she's been left alone up there, you see. I'm quite sure you can save the +situation."</p> + +<p>He was frankly depending on her for something which he admitted he could +not accomplish himself. Those two people, George Cannon and Sarah Gailey, +had both instinctively turned to her in a crisis. None could do what she +could do. She, by the force of her individuality, could save the situation. +She was no longer a girl, but a mature and influential being. Her ancient +diffidence before George Cannon had completely gone; she had no qualms, no +foreboding, no dubious sensation of weakness. Indeed, she felt herself in +one respect his superior, for his confidence in Sarah Gailey's housewifely +skill, his conviction that it was unique and would be irreplaceable, struck +her as somewhat naif, as being yet another example of the absurd family +pride which she and her mother had often noticed in the Five Towns. She was +not happy at the prospect of so abruptly quitting the delights of Lane End +House and the vicinity of Edwin Clayhanger; she was not happy at the +prospect of postponing the consideration of plans for her own existence; +she was not happy at the prospect of Sarah Gailey's pessimistic +complainings. She was above happiness. She was above even that thrill of +sharp and intense vitality which in times past had ennobled trouble and +misery. She had the most exquisite feeling of triumphant +self-justification. She was splendidly conscious of power. She was +indispensable.</p> + +<p>And the dismantled desolation of the echoing office, and the mystery of +George Cannon's personal position, somehow gave a strange poignancy to her +mood.</p> + +<p>They talked of indifferent matters: her property, the Orgreaves, even +the defunct newspaper, as to which George Cannon shrugged his shoulders. +Then the conversation drooped.</p> + +<p>"I shall go up by the four train to-morrow," she said, clinching the +interview, and rising.</p> + +<p>"I may go up by that train myself," said George Cannon.</p> + +<p>She started. "Oh! are you going to Hornsey, too?"</p> + +<p>"No! Not Hornsey. I've other business."</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b3c2">CHAPTER II</a><br /> SARAH'S BENEFACTOR</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>On the following afternoon Hilda travelled alone by the local train from +Bleakridge to Knype, the central station where all voyagers for London, +Birmingham, and Manchester had to foregather in order to take the fast +expresses that unwillingly halted there, and there only, in their skimming +flights across the district. It was a custom of Five Towns hospitality that +a departing guest should be accompanied as far as Knype and stowed with +personal attentions into the big train. But on this occasion Hilda had +wished otherwise. "I should <i>prefer</i> nobody to go with me to Knype," +she had said, in a characteristic tone, to Janet. It was enough. The family +had wondered; but it was enough. The family knew its singular, its +mysterious Hilda. And instead of at Knype, the leave-takings had occurred +at the little wayside station of Bleakridge, with wavy moorland behind, +factory chimneys in front, and cinder and shawd heaps all around. Hilda had +told Janet: "Mr. Cannon may be meeting me at Knype. He's probably going to +London too." And the discreet Janet, comprehending Hilda, had not even +mentioned this fact to the rest of the family.</p> + +<p>George Cannon, in a light summer suit and straw hat, was already on the +platform at Knype. Hilda had feared that at Bleakridge he might be looking +out of the window of the local train, which started from Turnhill; she had +desired not to meet him in the presence of any of the Orgreaves. But either +he had caught the previous train to Knype, or he had driven down. Holding a +Gladstone bag and a stick in one hand, he stood talking to another man of +about his own age and height. The conversation was vivacious, at any rate +on George Cannon's part. Hilda passed close by him amid the populous stir +of the expectant platform. He saw her, turned, and raised his hat, but in a +perfunctory, preoccupied manner; and instantly resumed the speech to his +companion. Hilda recognized the latter. It was 'young Lawton,' son and +successor to 'old Lawton,' the most famous lawyer in the Five Towns. Young +Lawton had a branch office at Turnhill, and lived in an important house +half-way between Turnhill and Bursley, where, behind the Town Hall, was the +historic principal office of the firm.</p> + +<p>The express came loudly in, and Hilda, having climbed into a +second-class compartment, leaned out from it, to descry her porter and +bestow on him a threepenny bit. George Cannon and young Lawton were still +in argument, and apparently quite indifferent to the train. Young Lawton's +thin face had its usual faint, harsh smile; his limbs were moveless in an +exasperating and obstinate calm; Hilda detested the man from his mere +looks. But George Cannon was very obviously under excitement. His face was +flushed; he moved his free arm violently--even the Gladstone bag swung to +and fro; he punctuated his sentences with sharp, angry nods of the head, +insisting and protesting and insisting, while the other, saying much less, +maintained his damnable stupid disdainful grin.</p> + +<p>Would he let the train go, in his feverish preoccupation? Hilda was +seriously afraid that he would. The last trunks were flung into the front +van, the stationmaster in his tall hat waved curtly to the glittering +guard; the guard waved his flag, and whistled; a porter banged the door of +Hilda's compartment, ignoring her gestures; the engine whistled. And at +that moment George Cannon, throwing apparently a last malediction at young +Lawton, sprang towards the train, and, seeing Hilda's face, rushed to the +door which she strained to open again.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid you'd be left behind," she said, as he dropped his bag on +the seat and the affronted stationmaster himself shut the door.</p> + +<p>"Not quite!" ejaculated Cannon grimly.</p> + +<p>The smooth, irresistible gliding of the train became apparent, +establishing a sudden aloof calm. Hilda perceived that all her muscles were +tense.</p> + +<p>In the compartment was a middle-aged couple.</p> + +<p>"What's this place?" asked the woman.</p> + +<p>"Looks like Tamworth," said the man sleepily.</p> + +<p>"Knype, sir!" George Cannon corrected him very sharply. He was so +wrought up that he had omitted even to shake hands with Hilda. Making no +effort to talk, and showing no curiosity about Hilda's welfare or doings, +he moved uneasily on his seat, and from time to time opened and shut the +Gladstone bag. Gradually the flush paled from his face.</p> + +<p>At Lichfield the middle-aged couple took advice from a porter and +stumbled out of the train.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"We're fairly out of the smoke now," said Hilda, when the train began to +move again. As a fact, they had been fairly out of the smoke of the Five +Towns for more than half an hour; but Hilda spoke at random, timidly, +nervously, for the sake of speaking. And she was as apologetic as though it +was she herself who by some untimely discretion had annoyed George +Cannon.</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank God!" he replied fiercely, blowing with pleasure upon the +embers of his resentment. "And I'll take good care I never go into it +again--to live, that is!"</p> + +<p>"Really?" she murmured, struck into an extreme astonishment.</p> + +<p>He produced a cigar and a match-box.</p> + +<p>"May I?" he demanded carelessly, and accepted her affirmative as of +course.</p> + +<p>"You've heard about my little affair?" he asked, after lighting the +cigar. And he gazed at her curiously.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that none of the Orgreaves have said anything this +last day or two?" He leaned forward. They were in opposite corners.</p> + +<p>"No," she repeated stiffly. Nevertheless, she remembered a peculiar +glance of Tom's to his father on the previous day, when George Cannon's +name had been mentioned.</p> + +<p>"Well," said he. "You surprise me! That's all!"</p> + +<p>"But--" She stopped, full of misgivings.</p> + +<p>"Never heard any gossip about me--never?" he persisted, as it were, +menacing her.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Never heard that I'm not really a solicitor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! well--I think mother once did say something--"</p> + +<p>"I thought so."</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand those things," she said simply. "Is anything the +matter? Is--"</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" he replied, calm and convincing. "Only I've been done! Done! +You'll hear about it some day, I dare say.... Shall I tell you? Would you +like me to tell you?" He smiled rather boyishly and leaned back.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she nodded.</p> + +<p>His attitude was very familiar, recalling their former relation of +employer and employed. It seemed as natural to her as to him that he should +not too ceremoniously conceal his feelings or disguise his mood.</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I expect I know as much about law as any of 'em, but +I've never been admitted, and so--" He stopped, perceiving that she did not +comprehend the significance of such a word as 'admitted.' "If you want to +practise as a solicitor you have to pass examinations, and I never have +passed examinations. Very expensive, all that! And I couldn't afford when I +was young. It isn't the exams that are difficult--you may tell that from +the fellows that pass them. Lawton, for instance. But after a certain age +exams become a nuisance. However, I could do everything else. I might have +had half a dozen situations as managing clerk in the Five Towns if I'd +wanted. Only I didn't want! I wanted to be on my own. I could get clients +as quick as any of them. <i>And</i> quicker! So I found Karkeek--the +excellent Mr. Karkeek! Another of the bright ones that could pass the +exams! Oh! He'd passed the exams all right! He'd spent five years and I +don't know how many hundred pounds in passing the exams, and with it all he +couldn't get above a couple of pounds a week. There are hundreds of real +solicitors up and down the country who aren't earning more. And they aren't +worth more. But I gave him more, and a lot more. Just to use his name on my +door and my blinds. See? In theory I was his clerk, but in reality he was +mine. It was all quite clear. He understood--I should think he did, by +Jove!" George Cannon laughed shortly. "Every one understood. I got a +practice together in no time. <i>He</i> didn't do it. He wouldn't have got +a practice together in a thousand years. I had the second-best practice in +Turnhill, and I should soon have had the best--if I hadn't been done."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Hilda. The confidence flattered her.</p> + +<p>"Well, Karkeek came into some money,--and he simply walked out of the +office! Simply walked out! Didn't give me time to turn round. I'd always +treated him properly. But he was jealous."</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" Hilda's scorn shrivelled up Mr. Karkeek. There was +nothing that she detested so much as a disloyalty.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I couldn't stop him, of course. No formal agreement between us. +Couldn't be, in a case like ours! So he had me. He'd taken my wages quick +enough as long as it suited him. Then he comes into money, and behaves like +that. Jealousy! They were all jealous,--always had been. I was doing too +well. So I had the whole gang down on me instantly like a thousand of +bricks. They knew I was helpless, and so they came on. Special meeting of +the committee of the North Staffordshire Law Society, if you please! +Rumours of prosecution--oh yes! I don't know what!... All because I +wouldn't take the trouble to pass their wretched exams.... Why, I could +pass their exams on my head, if I hadn't anything better to do. But I have. +At first I thought I'd retire for five years and pass their exams, and then +come back and make 'em sit up. And wouldn't I have made 'em sit up! But +then I said to myself, 'No. It isn't good enough.'"</p> + +<p>Hilda frowned. "What isn't?"</p> + +<p>"What? The Five Towns isn't good enough! I can find something better +than the law, and I can find something better than the Five Towns!... And +here young Lawton has the impudence to begin to preach to me on Knype +platform, and to tell me I'm wise in going! He's the President of the local +Law Society, you know! No end of a President! And hasn't even got gumption +enough to keep his father's practice together! Stupid ass! Well, I let him +have it, and straight! He's no worse than the rest. They've got no brains +in this district. And they're so narrow--narrow isn't the word! +Thick-headed's the word. Stupid! Mean!... Mean!... What did it matter to +them? I kept to all their rules. There was a real solicitor on the +premises, and there'd soon have been another, if I'd had time. No concern +of theirs how the money was divided between me and the real solicitor. But +they were jealous--there you are! They don't understand enterprise. They +hate it. Nothing ever moves in the Five Towns. And they've got no +manners--I do believe that's the worst. Look at Lawton's manners! Nothing +but a boor! They aren't civilized yet--that's what's the matter with them! +That's what my father used to say. Barbarians, he used to say. '<i>Ce sont +des barbares!</i>'... Kids used to throw stones at him because of his +neck-tie. The grown-ups chuck a brick at anything they don't quite fancy. +That's their idea of wit."</p> + +<p>Hilda was afraid of his tempestuous mood. But she enjoyed her fear, as +she might have enjoyed exposure to a dangerous storm. She enjoyed the +sensation of her fragility and helplessness there, cooped up with him in +the close intimacy of the compartment. She was glad that he did not +apologize to her for his lack of restraint, nor foolishly pretend that he +was boring her.</p> + +<p>"It does seem a shame!" she murmured, her eyes candidly admitting that +she felt enormously flattered.</p> + +<p>He sighed and laughed. "How often have I heard my father say +that--'<i>Ce sont des barbares</i>!' Peels only brought him over because +they could find nobody in the Five Towns civilized enough to do the work +that he did.... I can imagine how he must have felt when he first came +here!... My God!... Environment!... I tell you what--it's only lately I've +realized how I loathe the provinces!"</p> + +<p>The little interior in which they were, swept steadily and smoothly +across the central sunlit plain of England, passing canals and brooks and +cottages and churches--silent and stolid in that English stupidity that he +was criticizing. And Hilda saw of George Cannon all that was French in him. +She saw him quite anew, as something rather exotic and entirely marvellous. +She thought: "When I first met him, I said to myself he was a most +extraordinary man. And I was right. I was more right than I ever imagined. +No one down there has any idea of what he really is. They're too stupid, as +he says."</p> + +<p>He imposed on her his scorn of the provincial. She had to share it. She +had a vision of the Five Towns as a smoky blotch on the remote +horizon,--negligible, crass, ridiculous in its heavy self-complacency. The +very Orgreaves themselves were tinged with this odious English +provincialism.</p> + +<p>He smiled to himself, and then said, very quietly: "It isn't of the +least importance, you know. In fact I'm rather glad. I've never had any +difficulty in making money, and when I've settled up everything down there +I shan't be precisely without. And I shall have no excuse for not branching +out in a new line."</p> + +<p>She meekly encouraged him to continue.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" he went on. "The law isn't the only thing--not by a long way. +And besides, I'm sick of it. Do you know what the great thing of the future +is, I mean the really great thing--the smashing big thing?" He smiled, +kindly and confidential.</p> + +<p>She too smiled, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll tell you. Hotels!"</p> + +<p>"Hotels?" She was perfectly nonplussed.</p> + +<p>"Hotels! There'll be more money and more fun to be got out of hotels, +soon, than out of any other kind of enterprise in the world. You should see +those hotels that are going up in London! They'd give you a start, and no +mistake! Yes, hotels! There aren't twenty people in England who know what a +hotel is! But I know!" He paused, and added reflectively, in a comically +naïve tone: "Curious how these things come to you, bit by bit! Now, if +it hadn't been for Sarah--and that boarding-house--"</p> + +<p>He was using his straw hat as a fan. With an unexpected and almost +childlike gesture he suddenly threw the hat up on to the rack above his +head, "How's that?"</p> + +<p>"What a boy he is, after all!" thought Hilda sympathetically, wondering +why in the midst of all her manifold astonishment she felt so light-hearted +and gay.</p> + +<p>"Funny parcel you've got up there!" he idly observed, glancing from one +rack to the other.</p> + +<p>The parcel contained Mrs. Orgreave's generous conception of a repast +proper to be eaten in a train in place of high tea. He helped her to eat +it.</p> + +<p>As the train approached London he resumed his manhood. And he was +impeccably adult as he conducted her from Euston to King's Cross, and put +her into a train in a corner of the station that the summer twilight had +already taken possession of.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Late at night Hilda sat with Sarah Gailey in the landlady's small +bedroom at the Cedars. It was lighted by a lamp, because the builder of the +house, hating excess, had thought fit not to carry gas-pipes higher than +the first floor. A large but old bedstead filled half the floor space. On +the shabby dressing-table a pile of bills and various papers lay near the +lamp. Clothes were hung behind the door, and a vague wisp of muslin moved +slightly in the warm draught from the tiny open window. There were two +small cane-chairs, enamelled, on which the women sat, close to each other, +both incommoded by the unwholesome sultriness of the only chamber that +could be spared for the private use of the house-mistress. This small +bedroom was Sarah Gailey's home; its amenities were the ultimate nightly +reward of her labours. If George Cannon had obtained possession of the +Cedars as an occupation for Sarah, this room and Sarah's pleasure therein +were the sole justification of the entire mansion.</p> + +<p>As Hilda looked at Sarah Gailey's bowed head, but little greyed, beneath +the ray of the lamp, and at her shrivelled, neurotic, plaintive face in +shadow, and at her knotty hands loosely clasped, she contrasted her +companion and the scene with the youthfulness and the spaciousness and the +sturdy gay vigour of existence in the household of the Orgreaves. She +thought, with a renewed sense of the mysterious strangeness of life: "Last +night I was there, far away--all those scores of miles of fields and towns +are between!--and to-night I am here. Down there I was nothing but an +idler. Here I am the strongest. I am indispensable. I am the one person on +whom she depends. Without me everything will go to pieces." And she thought +of George Cannon's vast enigmatic projects concerning grand hotels. In +passing the immense pile of St. Pancras on the way from Euston to King's +Cross, George Cannon had waved his hand and said: "Look at that! Look at +that! It's something after that style that I want for a toy! And I'll have +it!" Yes, the lofty turrets of St. Pancras had not intimidated him. He, +fresh from little Turnhill and from defeats, could rise at once to the +height of them, and by the force of imagination make them his own! He could +turn abruptly from the law--to hotels! A disconcerting man! And the mere +tone in which he mentioned his enterprise seemed, in a most surprising way, +to dignify hotels, and even boarding-houses; to give romance to the +perfectly unromantic business of lodging and catering!... And the seed from +which he was to grow the magic plant sat in the room there with Hilda: that +bowed head! The ambition and the dream resembled St. Pancras: the present +reality was the Cedars, and Sarah's poor, stuffy little bedroom in the +Cedars.</p> + +<p>Sarah began to cry, weakly.</p> + +<p>"But what's the matter?" asked Hilda, the strong succourer.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Only it's such a relief to me you've come."</p> + +<p>Hilda deprecated lightly. "I should have come sooner if I'd known. You +ought to have sent word before."</p> + +<p>"No, I couldn't. After all, what is it? I'm only silly. There's nothing +really the matter. The minute you come I can see that. I can even stand +those Boutwoods if you're here. You know George made it up with them; and I +won't say he wasn't right. But I had to put my pride in my pocket. And +yesterday it nearly made me scream out to see Mrs. Boutwood stir her +tea."</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. It's nerves, that's what it is.... Well, I've got to go +through these." She fingered the papers on the dressing-table with her left +hand while drying her tears with the right. "He's very wishful for proper +accounts, George is. That's right enough. But--well--I think I can make a +shilling go as far as anyone, and choose flesh-meat with anyone, too--that +I will say--but these accounts...! George is always wanting to know how +much it costs a head a week for this that and the other.... It's all very +well for him, but if he had the servants to look after and--"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to keep your accounts for you," Hilda soothed her.</p> + +<p>"But--"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to keep your accounts for you," And she thought: "How exactly +like mother I was just then!"</p> + +<p>It appeared to Hilda that she was making a promise, and shouldering a +responsibility, against her will, and perhaps against her common sense. She +might keep accounts at the Cedars for a week, a fortnight, a month. But she +could not keep accounts there indefinitely. She was sowing complications +for herself. Freedom and change and luxury were what she deemed she +desired; not a desk in a boarding-house. And yet something within her +compelled her to say in a firm, sure, kindly voice:</p> + +<p>"Now give me all those papers, Miss Gailey."</p> + +<p>And amid indefinite regret and foreboding, she was proud and happy in +her rôle of benefactor.</p> + +<p>When Hilda at length rose to go to her own room, Sarah Gailey had to +move her chair so that she might pass. At the door both hesitated for an +instant, and then Hilda with a sudden gesture advanced her lips. It was the +first time she and Sarah had ever kissed. The contact with that desiccated +skin intensified to an extraordinary degree Hilda's emotional sympathy for +the ageing woman. She thought, poignantly: "Poor old thing!"</p> + +<p>And when she was on the dark little square landing under the roof, +Sarah, holding the lamp, called out in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Hilda!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Did he say anything to you about Brighton?"</p> + +<p>"Brighton?" She perceived with certainty from Sarah's eager and yet +apologetic tone, that the question had been waiting for utterance +throughout the evening, and that Sarah had lacked courage for it until the +kiss had enheartened her. And also she perceived that Sarah was suspecting +her of being somehow in conspiracy with George Cannon.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sarah. "He's got into his head that Brighton's the only +place for this boarding-house business if it's to be properly done."</p> + +<p>"He never said a word to me about Brighton," Hilda whispered +positively.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>Hilda descended the stairs, groping. Brighton? What next?</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b3c3">CHAPTER III</a><br /> AT BRIGHTON</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>She thought vividly, one afternoon about three months later, of that +final scrap of conversation. Just as she had sat opposite George Cannon in +a second-class compartment, so now she was sitting opposite Sarah Gailey in +a second-class compartment. The train, having passed Lewes, was within a +few minutes of Brighton. And following behind them, somewhere at the tail +of the train, were certain trunks containing all that she possessed and all +that Sarah Gailey possessed of personal property--their sole chattels and +paraphernalia on earth. George Cannon had willed it and brought it about. +He was to receive them on the platform of Brighton Station. She had not +seen very much of him in the interval, for he had been continually on the +move between Brighton and Turnhill. "In a moment we shall all be together +again," she reflected. "This meeting also will happen, as everything else +has happened, and a new period will definitely have begun." And she sat and +stared at the closed eyes of the desiccated Sarah Gailey, and waited for +the instant of arrival apprehensively and as it were incredulously--not +with fear, not with pleasure, but with the foreboding of adventure and a +curious idea that the instant of arrival never would come.</p> + +<p>For thirteen weeks, which had gone very quickly, she had devoted herself +to Sarah Gailey, acting as George Cannon's precursor, prophet, and +expounder. While the summer cooled into autumn, and the boarding-house +season slackened and once more feebly brightened, she had daily conversed +with Sarah about George's plans, making them palatable to her, softening +the shocks of them, and voluntarily promising not to quit her until the +crisis was past. She had had to discourse on the unique advantages of +Brighton as a field for George's enterprise, and on George's common sense +and on Sarah's common sense, and the interdependence of the two. When the +news came that George had acquired down there a house in going order, she +had had to prove that it was not the end of the world that was announced. +When the news came that George had re-sold the Cedars to its original +occupier, she had had to prove that the transaction did not signify a +mysterious but mortal insult to Sarah. When the news came that the Cedars +must be vacated before noon on a given Saturday, she had had to begin all +her demonstrations afresh, and in addition attempt to persuade Sarah that +George was not utterly mad--buying and selling boarding-house tenancies all +over the South of England!--and that the exit from the Cedars would not be +the ruin of dignity and peace, and the commencement of fatal disasters. In +the hour when Sarah Gailey learnt the immutable Saturday of departure, the +Cedars, which had been her hell, promised to become, on that very Saturday, +a paradise.</p> + +<p>On the whole, the three months had constituted a quarter of exceeding +difficulty and delicacy. The first month had been rendered memorable by +Sarah's astonishing behaviour when Hilda had desired to pay, as before, for +her board and lodging. The mere offer of the money had made plain to +Sarah--what she then said she had always suspected--that Hilda was her +enemy in disguise and (like the rest) bent on humiliating her, and +outraging her most sacred feelings. In that encounter, but in no other, +Sarah had won. The opportune withdrawal of the Boutwoods from the +boarding-house had assisted the establishment of peace. When the Boutwoods +left, Miss Gailey seemed to breathe the drawing-room air as though it were +ozone of the mountains. But her joy had been quickly dissipated, for to +dissipate joy was her chief recreation. A fortnight before the migration to +Brighton Hilda, contemplating all that had to be done, had thought, aghast: +"I shall never he able to humour her into doing it all!" Closing of +accounts, dismissals, inventories, bills, receipts, packing, decision +concerning trains, reception of the former proprietor (especially that!), +good-byes, superintending the stowage of luggage on the cab...! George +Cannon had not once appeared in the last sensitive weeks, and he had +therein been wise. And all that had to be done had been done--not by Hilda, +but by Sarah Gailey the touchy and the competent. Hilda had done little but +the humouring.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>And there sat Sarah Gailey, deracinated and captive, to prove how +influential a person Hilda was! With the eyes shut, Sarah's worn face under +her black bonnet had precisely the aspect of a corpse--and the corpse of +somebody who had expired under the weight of all the world's woe! Hilda +thought: "When she is dead she will look just like that!... And one day, +sooner or later, she will be dead." Strange that Sarah Gailey, with no +malady except her chronic rheumatism, and no material anxiety, and every +prospect of security in old age, could not be content, could not at any +rate refrain from being miserable! But she could not. She was an +exhaustless fount of worry and misery. "I suppose I like her," thought +Hilda. "But why do I like her? She isn't agreeable. She isn't amusing. She +isn't pretty. She isn't even kind, now. She's only depressing and tedious. +As soon as she's fixed up here, I shall go. I shall leave her. I've done +enough, and I've had enough. I must attend to my own affairs a bit. After +all--" And then Hilda's conscience interrupted: "But can you leave her +altogether? Without you, what will happen to her? She's getting older and +worse every day. Perhaps in a few years she won't even be competent. +Already she isn't perhaps quite, quite as competent as she was." And Hilda +said: "Well, of course, I shall have to keep an eye on her; come and see +her sometimes--often." And she knew that as long as they both lived she +could never be free from a sense of responsibility towards Sarah Gailey. +Useless to argue: "It's George Cannon's affair, not mine!" Useless to ask: +"<i>Why</i> should I feel responsible?" Only after she had laid Sarah +Gailey in the tomb would she be free. "And that day too will come!" she +thought again. "I shall have to go through it, and I shall go through +it!"</p> + +<p>The poignant romance of existence enveloped her in its beautiful veils. +And through these veils she saw, vague and diminished, the far vista of the +hours which she had spent with the Orgreaves. She saw the night of Edwin +Clayhanger's visit, and herself and him together in the porch, and she +remembered the shock of his words, "There's no virtue in believing." The +vision was like that of another and quite separate life. Would she ever go +back to it? Janet was her friend, in theory her one intimate friend: she +had seen her once in London,--beautiful, agreeable, affectionate, +intelligent; all the Orgreaves were lovable. The glance of Edwin +Clayhanger, and the sincerity of his smile, had affected her in a manner +absolutely unique.... But would she ever go back? It seemed to her +fantastic, impossible, that she should ever go back. It seemed to her that +she was netted by destiny. In any case she knew that she could not, +meanwhile, give to that group in Bursley even a part of herself. Hilda +could never give a part of herself. Moreover, she was a bad letter-writer. +And so, if among themselves the group at Bursley charged her with +inconstancy, she must accept the accusation, to which she was inevitably +exposed by the very ardour of her temperament.</p> + +<p>The putting-on of brakes took her unawares. The train was in Brighton, +sliding over the outskirts of the town. Miss Gailey opened her apprehensive +eyes. Hilda saw steep streets of houses that sprawled on the hilly mounds +of the great town like ladders: reminiscent of certain streets of her +native district, yet quite different, a physiognomy utterly foreign to her. +This then, was Brighton. That which had been a postmark became suddenly a +reality, shattering her preconceptions of it, and disappointing her she +knew not why. She glanced forward, through the window, and saw the cavern +of the station. In a few seconds they would have arrived, and her formal +mission would be over. She was very agitated and very nervous. George +Cannon had promised to meet them. Would he meet them?</p> + +<p>The next instant she saw the platform. She saw George Cannon, +conspicuous and debonair in a new suit, swinging his ebony stick. The train +stopped. He descried them.</p> + +<p>"There he is!" she said, bravely pretending to be gay. And she thought: +"I could not believe that this moment would come, but it has come."</p> + +<p>She had anticipated relief from this moment, but she was aware of no +relief. On the contrary, she felt most uncomfortably apologetic to Sarah +Gailey for George Cannon, and to George Cannon for Sarah Gailey. She had +the constraint of a sinner. And, by the side of George Cannon on the +platform, she was aware of her shabbiness and of her girlish fragility. +Nevertheless, she put her shoulders back with a gesture like his own, +thinking proudly, and trying to make her eyes speak: "Well, here is Sarah +Gailey,--thanks to me!"</p> + +<p>As Sarah greeted him, Hilda observed, with some dismay, a curious, very +slight stiffening of her demeanour--familiar phenomenon, which denoted that +Sarah was in the grip of a secret grievance. "Poor old thing!" she thought +ruefully. "I'd imagined she'd forgiven him for bringing her here; but she +hasn't."</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>They drove down from the station in an open carriage, unencumbered by +the trunks, which George Cannon had separately disposed of. He sat with his +back to the horse, opposite the two women, and talked at intervals about +the weather, the prospects of the season, and the town. His familiarity +with the town was apparently such that he seemed to be a native of it, and +even in some mysterious way to have assisted in its creation and +development; so that he took pride in its qualities and accepted +responsibility for its defects. When he ceremoniously saluted two women who +went by in another carriage, Hilda felt sharply the inferiority of an +ignorant stranger in presence of one for whom the place had no secrets.</p> + +<p>Her first disappointment changed slowly into expectant and hopeful +curiosity. The quaint irregularities of the architecture, and the vastness +of the thronged perspectives, made promises to her romantic sense. The town +seemed to be endless as London. There were hotels, churches, chapels, +libraries, and music-shops on every hand. The more ordinary features of +main streets--the marts of jewellery, drapery, and tobacco--had an air of +grandiose respectability; while the narrow alleys that curved enigmatically +away between the lofty buildings of these fine thoroughfares beckoned +darkly to the fancy. The multiplicity of beggars, louts, and organ-grinders +was alone a proof of Brighton's success in the world; the organ-grinders, +often a man and a woman yoked together, were extraordinarily English, +genteel, and prosperous as they trudged in their neat, middle-class raiment +through the gritty mud of the macadam, stolidly ignoring the menace of +high-stepping horses and disdainful glittering wheels. Brighton was +evidently a city apart. Nevertheless, Hilda did not as yet understand why +George Cannon should have considered it to be the sole field worthy of his +enterprise.</p> + +<p>Then the carriage rounded into King's Road, and suddenly she saw the +incredible frontage of hotels, and <i>pensions</i> and apartments, and she +saw the broad and boundless promenade alive with all its processions of +pleasure, and she saw the ocean. And everything that she had seen up to +that moment fell to the insignificance of a background. She understood.</p> + +<p>After a blusterous but mild autumn day the scarlet sun was setting +calmly between a saffron sky and saffron water; it flashed upon waves and +sails and flags, and upon the puddles in the road, and upon bow-windows and +flowered balconies, giving glory to human pride. The carriage, merged in a +phalanx of carriages, rolled past innumerable splendid houses, and every +house without exception was a hostel and an invitation. Some were higher +than any she had ever seen; and one terrific building, in course of +construction, had already far overtopped the highest of its neighbours. She +glanced at George Cannon, who, by a carefully casual demeanour, was trying +not to take the credit of the entire spectacle; and she admitted that he +was indeed wonderful.</p> + +<p>"Of course, Sarah," he said, as the carriage shortly afterwards turned +up Preston Street, where the dying wind roughly caught them, "we aren't +beginning with anything as big as all that, so you needn't shiver in your +shoes. You know what my notion is"--he included Hilda in his address--"my +notion is to get some experience first in a smaller house. We must pay for +our experience, and my notion is to pay as little as possible. I can tell +you there's quite a lot of things that have to be picked up before you've +got the hang of a town like this--quite a lot."</p> + +<p>Sarah grimly nodded. She had scarcely spoken.</p> + +<p>"We're beginning rather well. I've told you all about the Watchett +sisters, haven't I? They're an income, a positive income! And then Boutwood +and his wife have decided to come--did I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Bou--"</p> + +<p>The syllable escaped explosively from Sarah Gailey's mouth, overcoming +her stern guard. Instantly, by a tremendous effort, she checked the flow. +But the violent shock of the news had convulsed her whole being. The look +on her face was changed to desperation. Hilda trembled, and even the +splendid and ever-resurgent George Cannon was discountenanced. Not till +then had Hilda realized with what intense bitterness the souvenir of the +Boutwoods festered in Sarah Gailey's unreasoning heart.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>"Here we are!" said George Cannon jauntily, as the carriage stopped in +front of No. 59 Preston Street. But his jauntiness seemed factitious. The +demeanour of all three was diffident and unnatural, for now had arrived the +moment when George Cannon had to submit his going concern to the ordeal of +inspection by the women, and especially by Sarah Gailey. There the house +stood, a physical fact, forcing George to justify it, and beseeching +clemency from the two women. The occasion was critical; therefore everybody +had to pretend that it was a perfectly ordinary occasion, well knowing the +futility of the pretence. And the inevitable constraint was acutely +aggravated by Sarah's silent and terrible reception of the news concerning +the Boutwoods.</p> + +<p>While George Cannon was paying the driver, Sarah and Hilda hesitated +awkwardly on the pavement, their hands occupied with small belongings. They +had the sensation of being foreigners to the house; they could not even +mount the steps without his protection; scarcely might they in decency +examine the frontage of the house. They could not, however, avoid seeing +that a workman was fixing a new and splendid brass-plate at the entrance, +and that this plate bore the words, "Cannon's Boarding-house." Hilda +thought, startled: "At last he is using his own name!"</p> + +<p>He turned to them.</p> + +<p>"You have a view of the sea from the bow-window of the drawing-room--on +the first floor," he remarked.</p> + +<p>Neither Hilda nor Sarah responded.</p> + +<p>"And of course from the other bow-window higher up," he added, almost +pitifully, in his careful casualness.</p> + +<p>Hilda felt sorry for him, and she could not understand why she felt +sorry, why it seemed a shame that he should be mysteriously compelled thus +to defend the house before it had been attacked.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" she murmured foolishly, almost fatuously.</p> + +<p>The street and the house were disappointing. After the grandeur of the +promenade, the street appeared shabby and third-rate; it had the +characteristics of a side street; it was the retreat of those who could not +afford anything better, and its base inhabitants walked out on to the +promenade and swaggeringly feigned to be the equals of their superiors. The +house also was shabby and third-rate--with its poor little glimpse of the +sea. Although larger than the Cedars, it was noticeably smaller and meaner +than any house on the promenade, and whereas the Cedars was detached, No. +59 was not even semi-detached, but one of a gaunt, tall row of stuccoed and +single-fronted dwellings. It looked like a boarding-house (which the Cedars +did not), and not all the style of George Cannon's suit and cane and +manner, as he mounted the steps, nor the polish of his new brass-plate, +could redeem it from the disgrace of being a very ordinary +boarding-house.</p> + +<p>George Cannon had made a serious mistake in bringing the carriage round +by the promenade. True, he had exhibited the glory of Brighton, but he had +done so to the detriment of his new enterprise. That No. 59 ought to be +regarded as merely an inexpensive field for the acquiring of preliminary +experience did not influence the judgment of the women in the slightest +degree. For them it was a house that rightly apologized for itself, and +whose apologetic air deserved only a condescending tolerance.</p> + +<p>The front door stood open for the convenience of the artisan who was +screwing at the brass-plate. He moved aside, with the servility that always +characterizes the worker in a city of idlers, and the party passed into a +long narrow hall, whose walls were papered to imitate impossible blocks of +mustard-coloured marble. The party was now at home.</p> + +<p>"Here we are!" said Hilda, with a gaiety that absolutely desolated +herself, and in the same instant she remembered that George Cannon had +preceded her in saying 'Here we are!' She looked from the awful glumness of +Sarah Gailey to the equally awful alacrity of George Cannon, and felt as +though she had committed some crime whose nature she could not guess.</p> + +<p>A middle-aged maid appeared, like a suspicious scout, at the far end of +the hall, beyond the stairs, having opened a door which showed a glimpse of +a kitchen.</p> + +<p>"That tea ready?" asked George Cannon.</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the maid plumply.</p> + +<p>"Well, let it be got ready."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." The maid vanished, flouncing.</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey, with a heavy sigh, dropped her small belongings on to a +narrow bare table that stood against the wall near the foot of the stairs. +Daylight was fading.</p> + +<p>"Well," said George Cannon, balancing his hat on his cane, "your luggage +will be here directly. This is the dining-room." He pushed at a +yellow-grained door.</p> + +<p>The women followed him into the dining-room, and stared at the +dining-room in silence.</p> + +<p>"There's a bedroom behind," he said, as they came out, and he displayed +the bedroom behind. "That's the kitchen." He pointed to the adjoining +door.</p> + +<p>"The drawing-room's larger," he said. "It includes the width of the +hall."</p> + +<p>They climbed the narrow stairs after him wearily. The door of the +drawing-room was ajar, and the chatter of thin feminine voices could be +heard within. George Cannon gave a soundless warning whisper: "The +Watchetts." And Sarah Gailey frowned back the information that she did not +wish to meet the Watchetts just then. With every precaution against noise, +George Cannon opened two other doors, showing bedrooms. And then, as it +were, hypnotized by him, the women climbed another flight of narrow stairs, +darkening, and saw more rooms, and then still another flight, and still +more rooms, and finally the boasted view of the sea! After all, Hilda was +obliged to admit to herself that the house was more impressive than she had +at first supposed. Although single-fronted, it was deep, and there were two +bedrooms on the first floor, and four each--two large and two small--on the +second and third. Eleven in all, they had seen, of which three were +occupied by the Watchetts, and one, temporarily, by George Cannon. The rest +were empty; but the season had scarcely begun, and the Boutwoods were +coming. George Cannon had said grandly that Hilda must choose her room; she +chose the smallest on the top floor. The furniture, if shabby and +old-fashioned, was everywhere ample.</p> + +<p>They descended, and not a word had been said about Sarah's room.</p> + +<p>On the first-floor landing, where indeed the danger was acutest, they +were trapped by two of the Watchetts. These elderly ladies shot almost +roguishly out of the drawing-room, and by their smiles struck the +descending party into immobility.</p> + +<p>"Oh! We saw you arrive, Mr. Cannon!" said the elder, shaking her head. +"So this is Miss Gailey! Good afternoon, Miss Gailey! So pleased to make +your acquaintance!"</p> + +<p>There was handshaking. Then it was Hilda's turn.</p> + +<p>"We're so sorry our eldest sister isn't here to welcome you to No. 59," +said the younger. "She's had to go to London for the day. We're very fond +of No. 59. There's no place quite like it, to our minds. And we're quite +sure we shall be quite as comfortable with dear Miss Gailey as we were with +dear Mrs. Granville, poor thing. It was quite a wrench when we had to say +good-bye to her last night. Do come into the drawing-room, please! There's +a beautiful view of the sea!"</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey hesitated. A noise of bumping came from the hall below.</p> + +<p>"I think that's the luggage," she said. The smile with which she forced +herself to respond to the fixed simper of the Watchetts seemed to cause her +horrible torment. She motioned nervously to George Cannon, who was nearest +the stairs.</p> + +<p>"A little later, then! A little later, then!" said both the Watchetts, +bowing the party away with the most singular grimaces.</p> + +<p>In the hall, a lad, perspiring and breathing quickly, stood behind the +trunks.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," George Cannon said to him, and murmured to Sarah: "This +is the basement, here."</p> + +<p>The middle-aged maid appeared at the kitchen door with a large loaded +tray. "Come along with that tea, Louisa," he added pleasantly.</p> + +<p>He went first, Sarah next, and Hilda last, cautiously down a short, dark +flight of stone steps beneath the stairs; the servant followed. At the foot +a gas-jet burned.</p> + +<p>"Those Watchetts might be the landladies!" muttered Sarah, strangely +ignoring the propinquity of the maid; and sniffed.</p> + +<p>Hilda gave a short, uneasy laugh. She had a desire to laugh loudly and +wildly, and by so doing to snap the nervous tension, which seemed to grow +tighter and tighter every minute. Her wretchedness had become so exquisite +that she could begin to enjoy it, to savour it like a pleasure.</p> + +<p>And she thought, with conscious and satisfied grimness:</p> + +<p>"So this is Brighton!"</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b3c4">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> THE SEA</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>In the evening Hilda, returning from a short solitary walk as far as the +West Pier, found Sarah Gailey stooping over her open trunks in the bedroom +which had been assigned to her. There were two quite excellent though +low-ceiled rooms, of which this was one, in the basement; the other was to +be used as a private parlour by the managers of the house. At night, with +the gas lighted and the yellow blind drawn and the loose bundle of strips +paper gleaming in the grate, the bedroom seemed very cozy and habitable in +its shabbiness; like the rest of the house it had an ample supply of +furniture, and especially of those trifling articles, useful or useless, +which collect only by slow degrees, and which are a proof of long +humanizing habitation. In that room Sarah Gailey was indeed merely the +successor of the regretted Mrs. Granville, the landlady who had +mysteriously receded into the unknown before the advent of Sarah and Hilda, +but with whom George Cannon must have had many interviews. No doubt the +room was an epitome of the character of Mrs. Granville, presumably a fussy +and precise celibate, with a place for everything and everything in its +place, and an indiscriminating tendency to hoard.</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey was at that stage of unpacking when, trunks being nearly +empty and drawers having scarcely begun to fill, bed, table, and chairs are +encumbered with confused masses of goods apparently far exceeding the +cubical contents of the trunks.</p> + +<p>"Can I do anything for you?" asked Hilda.</p> + +<p>The new landlady raised her watery and dejected eyes. "If you wouldn't +mind taking every single one of those knick-knacks off the mantelpiece and +putting them away on the top shelf of the cupboard--"</p> + +<p>Hilda smiled. "It's a bit crowded, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Crowded!" By her intonation of this one word Sarah Gailey condemned +Mrs. Granville's whole life.</p> + +<p>"Can I empty this chair? I shall want something to stand on," said +Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Better see if the shelf's dusty," Sarah gloomily warned her.</p> + +<p>"Well," murmured Hilda, on the chair. "If my feather doesn't actually +touch the ceiling!" Sarah Gailey made no response to this +light-heartedness, and Hilda, with her hands full of vain gewgaws, tried +again: "I wonder what Mrs. Granville would say if she saw me!... My word, +it's quite hot up here!"</p> + +<p>A resonant, very amiable voice came from beyond the door: "Is she +there?"</p> + +<p>"Who?" demanded Sarah, grievous.</p> + +<p>"Miss Lessways." It was George Cannon.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I just want to speak to her if she's at liberty," said George +Cannon.</p> + +<p>Hilda cried from the ceiling: "I'll come as soon as I've--"</p> + +<p>"Please go now," Sarah interrupted in tense accents. Hilda glanced down +at her, astonished, and saw in her eyes an almost childish appeal, weak and +passionate, which gripped the heart painfully.</p> + +<p>She jumped from the chair. Sarah Gailey was now sitting on the bed. Yes, +in her worn face of a woman who has definitely passed the climacteric, and +in the abandoned pose of those thin arms, there was the look and gesture of +a young girl desperately beseeching. Hilda was puzzled and intimidated. She +had meant to be jocular, and to insist on staying till the task was +finished. But she kept silence and obeyed the supplication, from a motive +of prudence.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't keep you from him for anything," murmured Sarah Gailey +tragically, as Hilda opened the door and left her sitting forlorn among all +her skirts and linen.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"I'm here," George Cannon called out from the parlour when he heard the +sound of the door. He was looking from the window up at the street; the +blind had not been drawn. He turned as Hilda entered.</p> + +<p>"You've been out!" he said, observing that she was in street attire.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked nervously, fearing that some altercation had +already occurred between brother and sister.</p> + +<p>"It's about your private affairs--that's all," he said easily, and +half-humourously. "If you'll just come in."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she smiled her relief; but nevertheless she was still preoccupied +by the image of the woman in the next room.</p> + +<p>"They've been dragging on quite long enough," said George Cannon, as he +stooped to poke the morsel of fire in the old-fashioned grate, which had a +hob on either side. On one of these hobs was a glass of milk. Hilda had +learnt that day for the first time that at a certain hour every evening +George Cannon drank a glass of warm milk, and that this glass of warm milk +was an important factor in his daily comfort. He now took the glass and +drank it off. And Hilda had a peculiar sensation of being more intimate +with him than she had ever been before.</p> + +<p>They sat down to the square table in the middle of the room crowded with +oddments of furniture, including a desk which George Cannon had +appropriated to his own exclusive use. This desk was open and a portion of +its contents were spread abroad on the crimson cloth of the table. Among +them Hilda noticed, with her accustomed clerkly eye, two numbers of <i>The +Hotel-Keeper and Boarding-House Review</i>, several sheets of +advertisement-scales, and a many-paged document with the heading, +"Inventory of Furniture at No. 59 Preston Street"; also a large legal +envelope inscribed, "Lessways Estate."</p> + +<p>From the latter George Cannon drew forth an engraved and flourished +paper, which he silently placed in front of her. It was a receipt signed by +the manager of the Brighton branch of the Southern Counties Bank for the +sum of three thousand four hundred and forty-five pounds deposited at call +by Miss Hilda Lessways.</p> + +<p>"Everything is now settled up," he said. "Here are all the figures," and +he handed her another paper showing the whole of the figures for the +realization of her real property and of her furniture. "It's in your name, +and nobody can touch it but you."</p> + +<p>She glanced at the figures vaguely, not attempting to comprehend them. +As for the receipt, it fascinated her. The fragile scrap represented her +livelihood, her future, her salvation. It alone stood between her and +unimagined terrors. And she was surprised to see it, surprised by its +assurance that no accident had happened to her possessions during the +process of transformation carried out by George Cannon. For, though he had +throughout been almost worryingly meticulous in his business formalities +and his promptitudes--never had any interest or rent been a day late!--she +admitted to herself now that she had been afraid... that, in fact, she had +not utterly trusted him.</p> + +<p>"And what's got to be done with this?" she asked simply, fingering the +receipt.</p> + +<p>He smiled at her, with a touch of protective and yet sardonic +condescension, without saying a word.</p> + +<p>And suddenly it struck her that ages had elapsed since her first +interview with him in the office over the ironmonger's at Turnhill, and +that both of them were extraordinarily changed. (She was reminded of that +interview not by his face and look, nor by their relative positions at the +table, but by a very faint odour of gas-fumes, for at Turnhill also a +gas-jet had been between them.) After an interval of anxiety and depression +he had regained exactly the triumphant self-sure air which was her earliest +recollection of him. He was not appreciably older. But for her he was no +longer the same man, because she saw him differently; knowing much more of +him, she read in his features a thousand minor significances to which +before she had been blind. The dominating impression was not now the +impression of his masculinity; there was no clearly dominating impression. +He had lost, for her, the romantic allurement of the strange and the +unknown.</p> + +<p>Still, she liked and admired him. And she felt an awe, which was +agreeable to her, of his tremendous enterprise and his obstinate volition. +That faculty which he possessed, of uprooting himself and uprooting others, +put her in fear of him. He had willed to be established as a caterer in +Brighton--he who but yesterday (as it seemed) was a lawyer in +Turnhill--and, on this very night, he was established in Brighton, and his +sister with him, and she with his sister! The enormous affair had been +accomplished. This thought had been obsessing Hilda all the afternoon and +evening.</p> + +<p>When she reflected upon the change in herself, the untravelled Hilda of +Turnhill appeared a stranger to her, and a simpleton!; no more!</p> + +<p>As George Cannon offered no answer to her question, she said:</p> + +<p>"I suppose it will have to be invested, all this?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Well, considering it's only been bringing in one per cent. per annum +for the last week... Of course I needn't have put it on deposit, but I +always prefer that way. It's more satisfactory."</p> + +<p>Hilda could hear faintly, through the thin wooden partition, the +movements of Sarah Gailey in the next room. And the image of the mournful +woman returned to disquiet her. What could be the meaning of that hysteric +appeal and glance? Then she heard the door of the bedroom open violently, +and the figure of Sarah Gailey passed like a flash across the doorway of +the parlour. And the footsteps of Sarah Gailey pattered up the stone +stairs; and the front door banged; and the skirts and feet of Sarah Gailey +intercepted for an instant the light of the street-lamp that shone on the +basement-window of the parlour.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me a minute," muttered Hilda, frowning. By one of her swift and +unreflecting impulses she abandoned George Cannon and her private affairs, +and scurried by the area steps into the street.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Bareheaded, and with no jacket or mantle, Sarah Gailey was walking +quickly down Preston Street towards the promenade, and Hilda, afraid but +courageous, followed her at a distance of thirty or forty yards. Hilda +could not decide why she was afraid, nor why it should be necessary, in so +simple an undertaking as a walk down Preston Street, to call upon her +courage. Assuming even that Sarah Gailey turned round and caught her--what +then? The consequences could not be very terrible. But Sarah Gailey did not +turn round. She went straight forward, as though on a definite errand in a +town with which she was perfectly familiar, and, having arrived at the +corner of Preston Street and the promenade, unhesitatingly crossed the +muddy roadway of the promenade, and, after a moment's halt, vanished down +the steps in the sea-wall to the left-hand of the pier. The pier, a double +rope of twinkling lamps, hung magically over the invisible sea, and at the +end of it, constant and grave, a red globe burned menacingly in the +wind-haunted waste of the night. And Hilda thought, as she hastened with +gathering terror across the promenade: "Out there, at the end of the pier, +the water is splashing and beating against the piles!"</p> + +<p>She stopped at the parapet of the sea-wall, and looked behind her, like +a thief. The wrought-iron entrance to the pier was highly illuminated, but +except for a man's head and shoulders caged in the ticket-box of the +turnstile, there was no life there; the man seemed to be waiting solitary +with everlasting patience in the web of wavering flame beneath the huge +dark sky. Scores of posters, large and small, showed that Robertson's +"School" was being performed in the theatre away over the sea at the +extremity of the pier. The promenade, save for one gigantic policeman, and +a few distant carriages, was apparently deserted, and the line of dimly +lighted hotels, stretching vaguely east and west, had an air grim and +forlorn at that hour.</p> + +<p>Hilda ran down the steps; at the bottom another row of lamps defined the +shore, and now she could hear the tide lapping ceaselessly amid the +supporting ironwork of the pier. She at once descried the figure of Sarah +Gailey in the gloom. The woman was moving towards the faintly white edge of +the sea. Hilda started to run after her, first across smooth asphalt, and +then over some sails stretched out to dry; and then her feet sank at each +step into descending ridges of loose shingle, and she nearly fell. At +length she came to firm sand, and stood still.</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey was now silhouetted against the pale shallows of foam that +in ever-renewed curves divided the shore from the sea. After a time, she +bent down, rose again, moved towards the water, and drew back. Hilda did +not stir. She could not bring herself to approach the lonely figure. She +felt that to go and accost Sarah Gailey would be indelicate and +inexcusable. She felt as if she were basely spying. She was completely at a +loss, and knew not how to act. But presently she discerned that the white +foam was circling round Sarah's feet, and that Sarah was standing careless +in the midst of it. And at last, timid and shaking with agitation, she +ventured nearer and nearer. And Sarah heard her on the sand, and looked +behind.</p> + +<p>"Miss Gailey!" she appealed in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>Sarah made no response of any kind, and Hilda reached the edge of the +foam.</p> + +<p>"Please, please don't stand there! You'll catch a dreadful cold, and +you've got nothing on your shoulders, either!"</p> + +<p>"I want to make a hole in the water," said Sarah miserably. "I wanted to +make a hole in the water!"</p> + +<p>"Please do come back with me!" Hilda implored; but she spoke +mechanically, as though saying something which she was bound to say, but +which she did not feel.</p> + +<p>The foam capriciously receded, and Hilda, still without any effort of +her own will, stepped across the glistening, yielding sand and took Sarah +Gailey's arm. There was no resistance.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to make a hole in the water," Sarah repeated. "But I made a +mistake. I ought to have gone to that groin over there. I knew there was a +groin near here, only it's so long since I was here. I'd forgotten just the +place."</p> + +<p>"But what's the matter?" Hilda asked, leading her away from the sea.</p> + +<p>She was not extremely surprised. But she was shocked into a most solemn +awe as she pressed the arm of the poor tragic woman who, but for an +accident, might have plunged off the end of the groin into water deep +enough for drowning. She did really feel humble before this creature who +had deliberately invited death; she in no way criticized her; she did not +even presume to condescend towards the hasty clumsiness of Sarah Gailey's +scheme to die. She was overwhelmed by the woman's utterly unconscious +impressiveness, which exceeded that of a criminal reprieved on the +scaffold, for the woman had dared an experience that only the fierce and +sublime courage of desperation can affront. She had a feeling that she +ought to apologize profoundly to Sarah Gailey for all that Sarah must have +suffered. And as she heard the ceaseless, cruel play of the water amid the +dark jungle of ironwork under the pier, and the soft creeping of the +foam-curves behind, and the vague stirrings of the night-wind round +about--these phenomena combined mysteriously with the immensity of the dome +above and with the baffling strangeness of the town, and with the grandeur +of the beaten woman by her side; and communicated to Hilda a thrill that +was divine in its unexampled poignancy.</p> + +<p>The great figure of the policeman, suspicious, was descending from the +promenade discreetly towards them. To avoid any encounter with him Hilda +guided her companion towards the pier, and they sheltered there under the +resounding floor of the pier. By the light of one of the lower lamps Hilda +could now clearly see Sarah Gailey's face. It showed no sign of terror. It +was calm enough in its worn, resigned woe. It had the girlish look again, +beneath the marks of age. Hilda could distinguish the young girl that Sarah +had once been.</p> + +<p>"Come home, will you?" she entreated.</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey sighed terribly. "I give it up," she said, with weariness. +"I could never do it! I could never do it--now!"</p> + +<p>Hilda pulled gently at her unwilling arm. She could not speak. She could +not ask her again: "What's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that the house is too large," Sarah Gailey went on half +meditatively; "though just think of all those stairs, and not a tap on any +of the upper floors! No! And it isn't that I'm not ready enough to oblige +him. No! I know as well as anybody there's only him between me and +starvation. No! It isn't that he doesn't consider me! No! But when he goes +and settles behind my back with those Boutwoods--" She began to weep. "And +when I can hear you and him discussing me in the next room, and plotting +against me--it's--it's more--" The tears gradually drowned her voice, and +she ceased.</p> + +<p>"I assure you, you're quite mistaken," Hilda burst out, with passionate +and indignant persuasiveness. "We never mentioned you. He wanted to talk to +me about my money. And if you feel like that over the Boutwoods, I'm +certain he'll tell them they mustn't come."</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey shook her head blankly.</p> + +<p>"I'm certain he will!" Hilda persisted. "Please--"</p> + +<p>The other began to walk away, dragging Hilda with her. The policeman, +inspecting them from a distance, coughed and withdrew. They climbed a +flight of steps on the far side of the pier, crossed the promenade, and +went up Preston Street in silence.</p> + +<p>"I should prefer not to be seen going in with you," said Sarah Gailey +suddenly. "It might--" she freed her arm.</p> + +<p>"Go down the area steps," said Hilda, "and I'll wait a moment and then +go in at the front door."</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey hurried forward alone.</p> + +<p>Hilda, watching her, and observing the wet footmarks which she left on +the pavement, was appalled by the sense of her own responsibility as to the +future of Sarah Gailey. Till this hour, even at her most conscientious, she +had under-estimated the seriousness of Sarah Gailey's case. Everybody had +under-estimated the seriousness of Sarah Gailey's case.</p> + +<p>She became aware of some one hurrying cautiously up the street on the +other side. It was George Cannon. As soon as Sarah had disappeared within +the house he crossed over.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" he inquired anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Well--"</p> + +<p>"She hasn't been trying to drown herself, has she?"</p> + +<p>Hilda nodded, and, speechless, moved towards the house. He turned +abruptly away.</p> + +<p>The front door of No. 59 was still open. Hilda passed through the silent +hall, and went timorously down the steps to the basement. The gas was still +burning, and the clothes were still strewn about in Sarah Gailey's bedroom, +just as though naught had happened. Sarah stood between her two trunks in +the middle of the floor.</p> + +<p>"Where's George?" she asked, in a harsh, perfectly ordinary voice.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he's in the parlour," Hilda prevaricated.</p> + +<p>"Promise me you won't tell him!"</p> + +<p>"Of course I won't!" said Hilda kindly. "Do get into bed, and let me +make you some tea."</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey rushed at her and embraced her.</p> + +<p>"I know I'm all wrong! I know it's all my own fault!" she murmured, with +plaintive, feeble contrition, crying again. "But you've no idea how I try! +If it wasn't for you--"</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>That night Hilda, in her small bedroom at the top of the house, was +listlessly arranging, at the back of the dressing-table, the few volumes +which had clung to her, or to which she had clung, throughout the +convulsive disturbances following her mother's death. Among them was one +which she did not wish to keep, <i>The Girls' Week-day Book,</i> and also +the whole set of Victor Hugo, which did not belong to her. George Cannon +had lent her the latter in instalments, and she had omitted to return it. +She was saying to herself that the opportunity to return it had at length +arrived, when she heard a low, conspiratorial tapping at the door. All her +skin crept as, after a second's startled hesitation, she moved to open the +door.</p> + +<p>George Cannon, holding a candle, stood on the landing. She had not seen +him since the brief colloquy between them outside the house. Having +satisfied herself that Sarah Gailey was safe, and to a certain extent +tranquillized, for the night, she had awaited George Cannon's reappearance +a long time in vain, and had then retired upstairs.</p> + +<p>"You aren't gone to bed!" he whispered very cautiously. Within a few +feet of them was an airless kennel where Louisa, the chambermaid, +slept.</p> + +<p>"No! I'm just--I stayed up for you I don't know how long."</p> + +<p>"Is she all right?"</p> + +<p>"Well--she's in bed."</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd come to one of these other rooms," he continued to +whisper. All the sibilants in his words seemed to detach themselves, +hissing, from the rest of the sounds.</p> + +<p>She gave a gesture of assent. He tiptoed over the traitorous boards of +the landing, and slowly turned the knob of a door in the end wall. The door +exploded like the firing of a pistol; frowning, he grimly pushed it open. +Hilda followed him, noiselessly creeping. He held the door for her. She +entered, and he shut the door on the inside. They were in a small bedroom +similar to Hilda's own; but the bed was stripped, the square of carpet +rolled, the blind undrawn, and the curtains looped up from the floor. He +put the candle on the tiny iron mantelpiece, and sat on the bed, his hands +in his pockets.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say she was wanting to commit suicide?" he said, +after a short reflective silence, with his head bent but his eyes raised +peeringly to Hilda's.</p> + +<p>The crudity of the word, 'suicide,' affected Hilda painfully.</p> + +<p>"If you ask me," said she, standing with her back rubbing against the +small wardrobe, "she didn't know quite what she was doing; but there's no +doubt that was what she went out for."</p> + +<p>"You overtook her? I saw you coming up from the beach."</p> + +<p>Hilda related what had happened.</p> + +<p>"But had you any notion--before--"</p> + +<p>"Me? No! Why?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing! Only the way you rushed out like that!"</p> + +<p>"Well--it struck me all of a sudden!... You've not seen her since you +came in?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "I thought I'd better keep out of the way. I thought +I'd better leave it all to you. It's appalling, simply appalling!... Just +when everything was shaping so well!"</p> + +<p>Hilda thought, bewildered: 'Shaping so well?' With her glance she took +in the little cheerless bedroom, and herself and George Cannon within it, +overwhelmed. In imagination she saw all the other bedrooms, dark, forlorn, +and inanimate, waiting through long nights and empty days until some human +creature as pathetic as themselves should come and feebly vitalize them +into a spurious transient homeliness; and she saw George Cannon's +bedroom--the harsh bedroom of the bachelor who had never had a home; and +the bedrooms of those fearsome mummies, the Watchetts, each bed with its +grisly face on the pillow in the dark; and the kennels of the unclean +servants; and so, descending through the floors, to Sarah Gailey's bedroom +in the very earth, and the sleepless form on that bed, beneath the whole! +And the organism of the boarding-house seemed absolutely tragic to her, +compact of the stuff of sorrow itself! And yet George Cannon had said, +'Shaping so well!'</p> + +<p>"What's to be done?" he inquired plaintively.</p> + +<p>"Nothing that I can see!" she said. She had a tremendous desire to +escape from the responsibility thrust on her by the situation; but she knew +that she could never escape from it; that she was immovably pinned down by +it.</p> + +<p>"I can't see anything either," said he, quietly responsive, and speaking +now in a gentle voice. "Supposing I tell her that she can go, and that I'll +make her an allowance? What could she do, then? It would be madness for her +to live alone any more. She's the very last person who ought to live alone. +Moreover, she wouldn't accept the allowance. Well, then, she must stay with +me--here. And if she stays here she must work, otherwise she'd never +stay--not she! And she must be the mistress. She wouldn't stand having +anyone above her, or even equal with her, that's a certainty! Besides, +she's so good at her job. She hasn't got a great deal of system, so far as +I can see, but she can get the work out of the servants without too much +fuss, and she's so mighty economical in her catering! Of course she can't +get on the right side of a boarder--but then I <i>can</i>! And that's the +whole point! With me on the spot to <i>run</i> the place, she'd be +perfect--perfect! Couldn't wish for anything better! And now she--I assure +you I'm doing the best I can do for her. I do honestly assure you! If +anybody can suggest to me anything else that I can do--I'll do it like a +shot." He threw up his arms.</p> + +<p>Hilda was touched by the benevolence of his tone. Nevertheless, it only +intensified her helpless perplexity. Sarah Gailey was inexpressibly to be +pitied, but George Cannon was not to be blamed. She had a feeling that for +any piteous disaster some one ought to be definitely blamable.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she'll settle down?" George Cannon asked, in a new +voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" said Hilda. "I think she will. It was just a sort of--attack +she had, I think."</p> + +<p>"She's not vexed with me?"</p> + +<p>Hilda could not find courage to say: "She thinks you and I are plotting +against her." And yet she wondered why she should hesitate to say it. After +a pause she murmured, as casually as possible: "She doesn't like the +Boutwoods coming back."</p> + +<p>"I knew you were going to say that!" he frowned.</p> + +<p>"If you could manage to stop them--"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" He interrupted--nervous, impatient. "It wouldn't do, that +wouldn't! It'd never do! A boarding-house can't be run on those lines. It +isn't that I care so much as all that about losing a couple of boarders, +and I'm not specially keen on the Boutwoods. But it wouldn't do! It's the +wrong principle. You haven't got to let customers get on your nerves, so +long as they pay and behave respectably. If I gave way, the very first +thing Sarah would do would be to find a grievance against some other +boarder, and there'd be no end to it. The fact is she wants a grievance, +she must have a grievance--whether it's the Boutwoods or somebody else +makes no matter!... Oh no!" He repeated softly, gently, "Oh no!"</p> + +<p>She knew that his argument was unanswerable. She was perfectly aware +that she ought to yield to it. Nevertheless, the one impulse of her being +in that moment was to fight blindly and irrationally against it. Her +instinct said: "I don't care for arguments. The Boutwoods must be stopped +from coming. If they aren't stopped, I don't know what I shall do! I can't +bear to think of that poor woman meeting them again! I can't bear it." She +drew breath sharply. Startling hot tears came into her eyes; and she +stepped forward on her left foot.</p> + +<p>"Please!" she entreated, "please don't let them come!"</p> + +<p>There was a silence. In the agonizing silence she felt acutely her +girlishness, her helplessness, her unreason, confronted by his strong and +shrewd masculinity. At the bottom of her soul she knew how wrong she was. +But she was ready to do anything to save Sarah Gailey from the distress of +one particular humiliation. With the whole of her volition she wanted to +win.</p> + +<p>"Oh well!" he said. "Of course, if you take it so much to heart--"</p> + +<p>A peculiar bright glance shot from his eyes--the old glance that at once +negligently asserted his power over her, and reassured her against his +power. Her being was suffused with gladness and pride. She had won. She had +won in defiance of reason. She had appealed and she had conquered. And she +enjoyed his glance. She gloried in it. She blushed. A spasm of exquisite +fear shot through her, and she savoured it deliciously. The deep organic +sadness of the house presented itself to her in a new light. It was still +sadness, but it was beautiful in the background. Her sympathy for Sarah +Gailey was as keen as ever, but it had a different quality--an anguish less +desolating. And the fact that a joint responsibility for Sarah Gailey's +welfare bound herself and George Cannon together in spite of +themselves--this fact seemed to her grandiose and romantic, no longer +oppressive. To be alone with him in the secrecy of the small upper room +seemed to endow her with a splendid worldly importance. And yet all the +time a scarce-heard voice was saying clearly within her: "This appeal and +this abandonment are unworthy. No matter if this man is kind and sincere +and admirable! This appeal and this abandonment are unworthy!" But she did +not care. She ignored the voice.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell Sarah in the morning," he said.</p> + +<p>"Please don't!" she begged. "You might pretend later on that you've had +a letter from the Boutwoods and they can't come. If you tell her to-morrow, +she'll guess at once I've been talking to you; and you're not supposed to +know anything at all about what happened to-night. She made me promise. But +of course she didn't know that you'd found out for yourself, you see!"</p> + +<p>George Cannon walked away to the window, and then to the mantelpiece, +from which he took up the candle.</p> + +<p>"I'm very much obliged to you," he said simply, putting a faint emphasis +on the last word. She knew that he meant it, without any reserves. But in +his urbane tone there was a chill tranquillity that astonished and vaguely +disappointed her.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="b4">BOOK IV</a><br /> HER FALL</h1> + + + + +<h2><a name="b4c1">CHAPTER I</a><br /> THE GOING CONCERN</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>On a Saturday afternoon of the following August, Hilda was sitting at a +book in the basement parlour of "Cannon's Boarding-house" in Preston +Street. She heard, through the open window, several pairs of feet mounting +wearily to the front door, and then the long remote tinkling of the bell. +Within the house there was no responsive sound; but from the porch came a +clearing of throats, a muttering, impatient and yet resigned, and a vague +shuffling. After a long pause the bell rang again; and then the gas globe +over Hilda's head vibrated for a moment to footsteps in the hall, and the +front door was unlatched. She could not catch the precise question; but the +reply of Louisa, the chambermaid--haughty, scornful, and negligently +pitying--was quite clear:</p> + +<p>"Sorry, sir. We're full up. We've had to refuse several this very +day.... No! I couldn't rightly tell you where.... You might try No. 51, +'Homeleigh' as they call it; but we're full up. Good afternoon, sir, 'd +afternoon 'm."</p> + +<p>The door banged arrogantly. The feet redescended to the pavement, and +Hilda, throwing a careless glance at the window, saw two men and a woman +pass melancholy down the hot street with their hand-luggage.</p> + +<p>And although she condemned and despised the flunkey-souled Louisa, who +would have abased herself with sickly smiles and sweet phrases before the +applicants, if the house had needed custom; although in her mind she was +saying curtly to the mature Louisa: "It's a good thing Mr. Cannon didn't +hear you using that tone to customers, my girl;" nevertheless, she could +not help feeling somewhat as Louisa felt. It was indubitably agreeable to +hear a prosperous door closed on dusty and disappointed holiday-makers, and +to realize, in her tranquil retreat, that she was part of a very thriving +and successful concern.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>George Cannon, in a light and elegant summer suit, passed slowly in +front of the window, and, looking for Hilda in her accustomed place, saw +her and nodded. Surprised by the unusual gesture, she moved uneasily and +blushed; and as she did so, she asked herself resentfully: "Why do I behave +like this? I'm only his clerk, and I shall never be anything else but his +clerk; and yet I do believe I'm getting worse instead of better." George +Cannon skipped easily up to the porch; he had a latchkey, but before he +could put it into the keyhole Louisa had flown down the stairs and opened +the door to him; she must have been on the watch from an upper floor. +George Cannon would have been well served, whatever his situation in the +house, for he was one of those genial bullies who are adored by the menials +whom they alternately cajole and terrorize. But his situation in the house +was that of a god, and like a god he was attended. He was the very creator +of the house; all its life flowed from him. Without him the organism would +have ceased to exist, and everybody in it was quite aware of this. He had +fully learnt his business. He had learnt it in the fishmarket on the beach +at seven o'clock in the morning, and in the vegetable market at eight, and +in the shops; he had learnt it in the kitchen and on the stairs while the +servants were cleaning; and he had learnt it at the dinner-table surrounded +by his customers. There was nothing that he did not know and, except actual +cooking and mending, little that he could not do. He always impressed his +customers by the statement that he had slept in every room in the house in +order to understand personally its qualities and defects; and he could and +did in fact talk to each boarder about his room with the intimate +geographical knowledge of a native. The boarders were further flattered by +the mien and appearance of this practical housekeeper, who did not in the +least resemble his kind, but had rather the style of a slightly doggish +stockbroker. To be strolling on the King's Road in converse with George +Cannon was a matter, of pride to boarders male and female. And there was +none with whom he could not talk fluently, on any subject from cigars to +ozone, according to the needs of the particular case. Nor did he ever seem +to be bored by conversations. But sometimes, after benignantly speeding, +for instance, one of the Watchetts on her morning constitutional, he would +slip down into the basement and ejaculate, 'Cursed hag!' with a calm and +natural earnestness, which frightened Hilda, indicating as it did that he +must be capable of astounding duplicities.</p> + +<p>He came, now, directly to the underground parlour, hat on head and ebony +stick in hand. Hilda did not even look up, but self-consciously bent a +little lower over her volume. Her relation to George Cannon in the +successful enterprise was anomalous, and yet the habit of ten months had in +practice defined it. Neither paying board nor receiving wages, she had +remained in the house apparently as Sarah Gailey's companion and moral +support; she had remained because Sarah Gailey had never been in a +condition to be left--and the months had passed very quickly. But her lack +of occupation and her knowledge of shorthand, and George Cannon's obvious +need of clerical aid, had made it inevitable that they should resume their +former rôles of principal and clerk. Hilda worked daily at letters, +circularizing, advertisements, and--to a less extent--accounts and bills; +the second finger of her right hand had nearly always an agreeable stain of +ink at the base of the nail; and she often dreamed about letter-filing. In +this prosperous month of August she had, on the whole, less work than +usual, for both circulating and advertisements were stopped.</p> + +<p>George Cannon went to the desk in the dark corner between the window and +the door, where all business papers were kept, but where neither he nor she +actually wrote. When his back was turned she surreptitiously glanced at him +without moving her head, and perceived that his hand was only moving idly +about among the papers while he stared at the wall. She thought, half in +alarm: "What is the matter now?" Then he came over to the table and +hesitated by her shoulder. Still, she would not look up. She could no +longer decipher a single word on the page. Her being was somehow +monopolized by the consciousness of his nearness.</p> + +<p>"Interesting?" he inquired.</p> + +<p>She turned her head at last and glanced at him with a friendly smile of +affirmation, fingering the leaves of the book nervously. It was Cranswick's +<i>History of Printing</i>. One day, a fortnight earlier, while George +Cannon, in company with her, was bargaining for an old London Directory +outside a bookseller's shop in East Street, she had seen Cranswick's +<i>History of Printing</i> (labelled "published at <i>£1</i> 1s., our price +6s. 6d.") and had opened it curiously. George Cannon, who always kept an +eye on her, had said teasingly: "I suppose it's your journalistic past that +makes you interested in that?" "I suppose it is," she answered. Which +statement was an untruth, for the sole thought in her mind had been that +Edwin Clayhanger was a printer. A strange, idle thought! She had laid the +book down. The next day, however, George Cannon had brought it home, saying +carelessly: "I bought that book--five and six; the man seemed anxious to do +business, and it's a book to have." He had not touched it since.</p> + +<p>"Page 473!" he murmured, looking at the number of the page. "If you keep +on at this rate, you'll soon know more about printing than young Clayhanger +himself!"</p> + +<p>She was thunderstruck. Never before had the name of Clayhanger been +mentioned between them! Could he, then, penetrate her thoughts? Could he +guess that in truth she was reading Cranswick solely because Edwin +Clayhanger happened to be a printer? No! It was impossible! The reason of +her interest in Cranswick, inexplicable even to herself, was too fantastic +to be divined. And yet was not his tone peculiar? Or was it only in her +fancy that his tone was peculiar? She blushed scarlet, and her muscles grew +rigid.</p> + +<p>"I say," George Cannon continued, in a tone that now was unmistakably +peculiar, "I want you to come out with me. I want to show you something on +the front. Can you come?"</p> + +<p>"At once?" she muttered glumly and painfully. What could be the mystery +beneath this most singular behaviour?</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Florrie will be arriving at five," said Hilda, after artificially +coughing. "I ought to be here then, oughtn't I?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he cried. "We shall be back long before five."</p> + +<p>"Very well," she agreed.</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready in three minutes," he said, going gaily towards the door. +From the door he gave her a glance. She met it, courageously exposing her +troubled features and nodded.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Hilda went into the bedroom behind the parlour, to get her hat and +gloves. A consequence of the success of the boarding-house was that she was +temporarily sharing this chamber with Sarah Gailey. She had insisted on +making the sacrifice, and she enjoyed the personal discomfort which it +involved. When she cautiously lay down on the narrow and lumpy truckle-bed +that had been insinuated against an unoccupied wall, and when she turned +over restlessly in the night and the rickety ironwork creaked and Sarah +Gailey moaned, and when she searched vainly for a particular garment lost +among garments that were hung pell-mell on insecure hooks and jutting +corners of furniture,--she was proud and glad because her own comfortable +room was steadily adding thirty shillings or more per week to the gross +receipts of the enterprise. The benefit was in no way hers, and yet she +gloated on it, thinking pleasurably of George Cannon's great japanned +cash-box, which seemed to be an exhaustless store of gold sovereigns and +large silver, and of his mysterious--almost furtive--visits to the Bank. +Her own capital, invested by George Cannon in railway stock, was bringing +in four times as much as she disbursed; and she gloated also on her +savings. The more money she amassed, the less willing was she to spend. +This nascent avarice amused her, as a new trait in his character always +amuses the individual. She said to herself: "I am getting quite a miser," +with the assured reservation: "Of course I can stop being a miser whenever +I feel like stopping."</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey was lulling herself in a rocking-chair when Hilda entered, +and she neither regarded Hilda nor intermitted her see-saw. Her features +were drawn into a preoccupied expression of martyrdom, and in fact she +constantly suffered physical torture. She had three genuine +complaints--rheumatism, sciatica, and neuritis; they were all painful. The +latest and worst was the neuritis, which had attacked her in the wrist, +producing swollen joints that had to be fomented with hot water. Sarah +Gailey's life had indeed latterly developed into a continual fomentation +and a continual rocking. She was so taken up with the elemental business of +fomenting and of keeping warm, that she had no energy left for other +remedial treatments, such as distraction in the open air. She sat for ever +shawled, generally with heavy mittens on her arms and wrists, and either +fomenting or rocking, in the eternal twilight of the basement bedroom. She +eschewed aid--she could manage for herself--and she did not encourage +company, apparently preferring to be alone with fate. In her easier hours, +one hand resting on another and both hugged close to her breast, rocking to +and fro with an astounding monotonous perseverance, she was like a +mysterious Indian god in a subterranean temple. Above her, unseen by her, +floor beyond floor, the life of the boarding-house functioned in the great +holiday month of August.</p> + +<p>"I quite forgot about the make-up bed for Florrie," said Sarah Gailey +plaintively as she rocked. "Would you have time to see to it? Of course she +will have to be with Louisa."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Hilda curtly, and not quite hiding exasperation.</p> + +<p>There were three reasons for her exasperation. In the first place, the +constant spectacle of Sarah Gailey's pain, and the effect of the pain on +Sarah's character, was exasperating--to Hilda as well as to George Cannon. +Both well knew that the watery-eyed, fretful spinster was a victim, utterly +innocent and utterly helpless, of destiny, and that she merited nothing but +patient sympathy; yet often the strain of relationship with Sarah produced +in them such a profound feeling of annoyance that they positively resented +Sarah's sufferings, and with a sad absence of logic blamed her in her +misfortune, just as though she had wilfully brought the maladies upon +herself in order to vex them. Then, further, it was necessary always to +minister to Sarah's illusion that Sarah was the mainstay of the house, that +she attended to everything and was responsible for everything, and that +without her governance the machine would come to a disastrous standstill: +the fact being that she had grown feeble and superfluous. Sarah had taught +all she knew to two highly intelligent pupils, and had survived her +usefulness. She had no right place on earth. But in her morose inefficiency +she had developed into an unconscious tyrant--a tyrant whose power lay in +the loyalty of her subjects and not at all in her own soul. She was indeed +like a deity, immanent, brooding, and unaware of itself!... Thus, the +question of Florrie's bed had been discussed and settled long before Sarah +Gailey had even thought of it; but Hilda might not tell her so. Lastly, +this very question of Florrie's bed was exasperating to Hilda. Already +Louisa's kennel was inadequate for Louisa, and now another couch had been +crowded into it. Hilda was ashamed of the shift; but there was no +alternative. Here, for Hilda, was the secret canker of George Cannon's +brilliant success. The servants were kindly ill-treated. In the commercial +triumph she lost the sense of the tragic forlornness of boarding-house +existence, as it had struck her on the day of her arrival. But the image of +the Indian god in the basement and of the prone forms of the servants in +stifling black cupboards under the roof and under the stairs--these images +embittered at intervals the instinctive and reflecting exultation of her +moods.</p> + +<p>She adjusted her small, close-fitting flowered hat, dropped her parasol +across the bed, and began to draw on her cotton gloves.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, dear?" asked Sarah Gailey.</p> + +<p>"Out with Mr. Cannon."</p> + +<p>"But where?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know." In spite of herself there was a certain unnecessary +defiance in Hilda's voice.</p> + +<p>"You don't know, dear?" Sarah Gailey suddenly ceased rocking, and +glanced at Hilda with the mournful expression of acute worry that was so +terribly familiar on her features. Although it was notorious that baseless +apprehensions were a part of Sarah's disease, nevertheless Hilda could +never succeed in treating any given apprehension as quite baseless. And now +Sarah's mere tone begot in Hilda's self-consciousness a vague alarm.</p> + +<p>She continued busy with her gloves, silent.</p> + +<p>"And on Saturday afternoon too, when everybody's abroad!" Sarah Gailey +added gloomily, with her involuntary small movements of the head.</p> + +<p>"He asked me if I could go out with him for a minute or two at once," +said Hilda, and picked up the parasol with a decisive gesture.</p> + +<p>"There's a great deal too much talk about you and George as it is," said +Sarah with an acrid firmness.</p> + +<p>"Talk about me and--!" Hilda cried, absolutely astounded.</p> + +<p>She had no feeling of guilt, but she knew that she was looking guilty, +and this knowledge induced in her the actual sensations of a criminal.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't want--" Sarah Gailey began, and was interrupted by a +quiet tap at the door.</p> + +<p>George Cannon entered.</p> + +<p>"Ready, miss?" he demanded, smiling, before he had caught sight of her +face.</p> + +<p>For the second time that afternoon he saw her scarlet, and now there +were tears in her eyes, too.</p> + +<p>She hesitated an instant.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered with a painful gulp, and moved towards the door.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b4c2">CHAPTER II</a><br /> THE UNKNOWN ADVENTURE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>When they were fairly out in the street Hilda felt like a mariner who +has escaped from a lee shore, but who is beset by the vaguer and even more +formidable perils of the open sea. She was in a state of extreme agitation, +and much too self-conscious to be properly cognisant of her surroundings; +she did not feel the pavement with her feet; she had no recollection of +having passed out of the house. There she was walking along on nothing, by +the side of a man who might or might not be George Cannon, amid tall +objects that resembled houses! Her situation was in a high degree painful, +but she could not have avoided it. She could not, in Sarah's bedroom, have +fallen into sobs, or into a rage, or into the sulks, and told George Cannon +that she would not go with him; she could not have dashed hysterically away +and hidden herself on an upper floor, in the manner of a startled fawn. Her +spirit was too high for such tricks. On the other hand, she was by no means +sufficiently mistress of herself to be able to hide from him her shame. +Hence she faced him and followed him, and let him see it. Their long +familiarity had made this surrender somewhat easier for her. After all, in +the countless daily contacts, they had grown accustomed to minor +self-exposures--and Hilda more so than George Cannon; Hilda was too +impatient and impulsive not to tear, at increasingly frequent intervals, +the veil of conventional formality.</p> + +<p>Her mood now, as she accompanied George Cannon on the unknown adventure, +was one of abashed but still fierce resentment. She of course believed +Sarah Gailey's statement that there had been "talk" about herself and the +landlord, and yet it was so utterly monstrous as to be almost incredible. +She was absolutely sure that she had never by her behaviour furnished the +slightest excuse for such "talk." No eavesdropper could ever have caught +the least word or gesture to justify it. Could a malicious eavesdropper +have assisted at the secret operations of her inmost mind, even then he +could scarcely have seen aught to justify it. Existence at Brighton had +been too strenuous and strange--and, with Sarah Gailey in the house, too +full of responsibilities--to favour dalliance. Hilda, examining herself, +could not say that she had not once thought of George Cannon as a husband; +because just as a young solitary man will imagine himself the spouse of a +dozen different girls in a week, so will an unmated girl picture herself +united to every eligible and passably sympathetic male that crosses her +path. It is the everyday diversion of the fancy. But she could say that she +had not once thought seriously of George Cannon as a husband. Why, he was +not of her generation! Although she did not know his age, she guessed that +he must be nearer forty than thirty. He was of the generation of Sarah +Gailey, and Sarah Gailey was the contemporary of her dead mother! And he +had never shown for her any sentiment but that of a benevolently teasing +kindliness. Moreover, she was afraid of him, beyond question. And withal, +he patently lacked certain qualities which were to be found in her image of +a perfect man. No! She had more often thought of Edwin Clayhanger as a +husband. Indeed she had married Edwin Clayhanger several times. The +haunting youth would not leave her alone. And she said to herself, hot and +indignant: "I shall have to leave Brighton! I can see that! Sarah Gailey's +brought it on herself!" Yes, she was actually angry with Sarah Gailey, who +however had only informed her of a fact which she would have been sorry not +to know! And in leaving Brighton, that fancy of hers took her straight to +Bursley, to stay with Janet Orgreave in the house next to the new house of +the Clayhangers!</p> + +<p>Whither was George Cannon leading her? He had not yet said a word in +explanation of the errand, nor shown in any way that he had observed her +extraordinary condition. He was silent, swinging his stick. She also was +silent. She could not have spoken, not even to murmur: "Where are you +taking me to?" They went forward as in an enchantment.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>They were on the King's Road; and to the left were the high hotels and +houses, stretching east and west under the glare of the sun into +invisibility, and to the right was the shore, and the sea so bright that +the eye could scarcely rest on it. Both the upper and the lower promenades +were crowded with gay people surging in different directions. The dusty +roadway was full of carriages, and of the glint of the sun on wheelspokes +and horses' flanks, and of rolling, clear-cut shadows. The shore was +bordered with flags and masts and white and brown sails; and in the +white-and-green of billows harmlessly breaking could be seen the yellow +bodies of the bathers. A dozen bare-legged men got hold of a yacht under +sail with as many passengers on board, and pushed it forcibly right down +into the sea, and then up sprang its nose and it heeled over and shot +suddenly off, careering on the waves into the offing where other yachts +were sliding to and fro between the piers, dominating errant fleets of +rowboats. And the piers also were loaded with excited humanity and radiant +colour. And all the windows of all the houses and hotels were open, and +blowing with curtains and flowers and hats. The whole town was +enfevered.</p> + +<p>Hilda thought, her heart still beating, but less noisily, "I scarcely +ever come here. I don't come here often enough." And she saw Sarah Gailey +rocking and sighing and rocking and shaking her head in the mournful +twilight of the basement in Preston Street. The contrasts of existence +struck her as magnificent, as superb. The very misery and hopelessness of +Sarah's isolation seemed romantic, splendid, touchingly beautiful. And she +thought, inexplicably: "Why am I here? Why am I not at home in Turnhill? +Why am I so different from what mother was? What am I going to be and to +do? This that I now am can't continue for ever." She saw thousands of women +with thousands of men. And, quite forgetting that to the view of the +multitude she was just as much as any of them with a man (and a rather fine +man, too!), she began to pity herself because she was not with a man! She +dreamed, in her extreme excitation, of belonging absolutely to some man. +And despite all her pride and independence, she dwelt with pleasure and +longing on the vision of being his, of being at his disposal, of being +under his might, of being helpless before him. She thought, desolated: "I +am nobody's. And so there is 'talk'!" She scorned herself for being +nobody's. To belong utterly to some male seemed to be the one tolerable +fate for her in the world. And it was a glorious fate, whether it brought +good or evil. Any other was ignobly futile, was despicable. And then she +thought, savagely: "And just see my clothes! Why don't I take the trouble +to look nice?"</p> + +<p>Suddenly George Cannon stopped on the edge of the pavement, and turned +towards the houses across the street.</p> + +<p>"You see that?" he said, pointing with his stick.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"The Chichester."</p> + +<p>She saw, in gold letters over the front of a tall corner house: "The +Chichester Private Hotel."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"I've taken it--from Christmas. I signed about an hour ago. I just had +to tell someone."</p> + +<p>"Well I never!" Hilda exclaimed.</p> + +<p>He was beyond question an extraordinary and an impressive man. He had +said that, after experimenting in Preston Street, he should take a larger +place, and lo! in less than a year, he had fulfilled his word. He had +experimented in Preston Street, with immense success and now he was coming +out into the King's Road! (Only those who have lived in a side street can +pronounce the fine words 'King's Road' with the proper accent of +deference.) And every house in the King's Road, Hilda now newly perceived, +was a house of price and distinction. Nothing could be common in the King's +Road: the address and the view were incomparably precious. Being +established there, George Cannon might, and no doubt would, ultimately +acquire one of the largest public hotels; indeed, dominate the promenade! +It would be just like him to do so! A year ago he was a solicitor in +Turnhill. To-day he was so perfectly and entirely a landlord that no one +could ever guess his first career. He was not merely extraordinary: he was +astounding. There could not be many of his calibre in the whole world.</p> + +<p>"How does it strike you?" he asked, with an eagerness that touched +her.</p> + +<p>"Oh! It's splendid!" she answered, trying to put more natural enthusiasm +into her voice. But the fact was that the Chichester had not yet struck her +at all. It was only the idea of being in the King's Road that had struck +her--and with such an effect that her attention was happily diverted from +her trouble, and her vexatious self-consciousness disappeared. She had from +time to time remarked the Chichester, but never with any particularity; it +had been for her just an establishment among innumerable others, and not +one of the best,--the reverse of imposing. It stood at the angle of King's +Road and Ship Street, and a chemist's shop occupied the whole of the +frontage, the hotel-entrance being in Ship Street; its architecture was +fiat and plain, and the place seemed neglected, perhaps unprosperous.</p> + +<p>"Twenty bow-windows!" murmured George Cannon, and then smiled at +himself, as if ashamed of his own naïveté.</p> + +<p>And Hilda counted the windows. Yes, there were eight on King's Road and +twelve at the side. The building was high, and it was deep, stretching far +down Ship Street. In a moment it began to put on, for Hilda, quite special +qualities. How high it was! How deep it was! And in what a situation! It +possessed mysterious and fine characteristics which set it apart. Strange +that hitherto she had been so blind to it! She and George Cannon were +divided from the house by the confused and noisy traffic of the roadway, +and by the streaming throngs on the opposite pavement. And none of these +people riding or driving or walking, and none of the people pushing past +them on the pavement behind, guessed that here on the kerb was the future +master of the Chichester, an amazing man, and that she, Hilda Lessways, by +his side, was the woman to whom he had chosen first to relate his triumph! +This unrecognised secrecy in the great animated street was piquant and +agreeable to Hilda, a source of pride.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've bought it?" she ventured. She had no notion of his +financial resources, but her instinct was to consider them infinite.</p> + +<p>"No! I've not exactly bought it," he laughed. "Not quite! I've got the +lease, from Christmas. How much d'ye think the rent is?" He seemed to +challenge her.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Don't ask me!"</p> + +<p>"Five hundred a year," he said, and raised his chin. "Five hundred a +year! Ten pounds a week! Nearly thirty shillings a day! You've got to pay +that before you can even begin to think of your own profits."</p> + +<p>"But it's enormous!" Hilda was staggered. All her mother's houses put +together had brought in scarcely a third of the rental of that single +house, which was nevertheless only a modest unit in several miles of +houses. "But can you make it pay?"</p> + +<p>"I fancy so! Else I shouldn't have taken it. The present man can't. But +then he's paying £550 for one thing, and he's old. And he doesn't know his +business.... Oh yes! I think I can see my money back.... Wait till +Christmas is turned and I make a start!"</p> + +<p>She knew that the future would justify his self-confidence. How he +succeeded she could not define. Why should he succeed where another was +failing? He could not go out and drag boarders by physical force into his +private hotel! Yet he would succeed. In every gesture he was the successful +man. She looked timidly up at his eyes under the strong black eyelashes. +His glance caught hers. He smiled conqueringly.</p> + +<p>"Haven't said a word to Sarah yet!" he almost whispered, so low was his +voice; and he put on a mock-rueful smile. Hilda smiled in response.</p> + +<p>"Shall you keep Preston Street?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course!" he said with pride--"I shall run the two, naturally." He +put his shoulders back. "One will help the other, don't you see?"</p> + +<p>She thought she saw, and nodded appreciatively. He meant to run two +establishments! At the same moment a young and stylish man drove rather +slowly by in a high dog-cart. He nodded carelessly to George Cannon, and +then, perceiving that George Cannon was with a lady, raised his hat in +haste. George Cannon responded. The young man gazed for an instant hard at +Hilda, with a peculiar expression, and passed on. She did not know who he +was. Of George Cannon's relationships in the town she was entirely +ignorant, but that he had relationships was always obvious.</p> + +<p>She blushed, thinking of what Sarah Gailey had said about 'talk' +concerning herself and George Cannon. In the young man's glance there had +been something to annoy and shame her.</p> + +<p>"Come across and have a look at the place," said George Cannon, suddenly +stepping down into the gutter, with a look first in one direction and then +in the other for threatening traffic.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I'll come now," she replied.</p> + +<p>"But why not? Are you in a hurry? You've plenty of time before five +o'clock--heaps!"</p> + +<p>"I'd prefer not to come," she insisted, in an abashed and diffident +voice.</p> + +<p>"But what's up?" he demanded, stepping back to the pavement, and +glancing directly into her eyes.</p> + +<p>She blushed more and more, dropping her eyelids.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be talked about <i>too</i> much!" she muttered, +mortified. Her inference was unmistakable. The whole of her mind seemed now +to be occupied with an enormous grievance which she somehow had against the +world in general. Her very soul, too, was bursting with this grievance.</p> + +<p>"Talked about? But who--"</p> + +<p>"Never mind! I know! I've been told!" she interrupted him.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I see!" He was now understanding the cause of her trouble in Sarah +Gailey's bedroom.</p> + +<p>"Now look here!" He went on. "I've just got to have a few words with +you. You come across the road, please." He was imperious.</p> + +<p>She raised her glance for a timid moment to his face, and saw to her +intense astonishment that he also was blushing. Never before had she seen +him blush.</p> + +<p>"Come along!" he urged.</p> + +<p>She followed him obediently across the dangerous road. He waited for her +at the opposite kerb, and then they went up Ship Street. He turned into the +entrance of the Chichester, which was grandiose, with a flight of shallow +steps, and then a porch with two basket chairs, and then another flight of +shallow steps ending in double doors which were noticeably higher than the +street level. She still followed.</p> + +<p>"Nobody in here, I expect," said George Cannon, indicating a door on the +right, to an old waiter who stood in the dark hall.</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>George Cannon opened the door as a master, ushered Hilda into a tiny +room furnished with a desk and two chairs, and shut the door.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The small window was of ground glass and gave no prospect of the outer +world, from which it seemed to Hilda that she was as completely cut off as +in a prison. She was alone with George Cannon, and beyond the narrow walls +which caged them together, and close together, there was nothing! All +Brighton, save this room, had ceased to exist. Hilda was now more than ever +affrighted, shamed, perturbed, agonised. Yet at the same time she had the +desperate calm of the captain of a ship about to founder with all hands. +And she saw glimpses, beautiful and compensatory, of the romantic quality +of common life. She was in a little office of a perfectly ordinary +boarding-house--(she could even detect the stale odours of cooking)--with a +realistic man of business, and they were about to discuss a perfectly +ordinary piece of scandal; and surely they might be called two common-sense +people! And withal, the ordinariness and the midland gumption of the scene +were shot through with the bright exotic rays of romance! She thought: "It +is painful and humiliating to be caught and fixed as I am. But it is +wonderful too!"</p> + +<p>"The fact is," said George Cannon, in an easy reassuring tone, "we never +get the chance of a bit of quiet chat. Upon my soul we don't! Now I suppose +it's Sarah who's been worrying you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What did she say?... You'd better sit down, don't you think?" He swung +round the pivoted arm-chair in front of the closed desk and pointed her to +it.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Hilda hesitated, and then sank on to the chair without looking at +it. "She simply said there was a lot of talk about you and me. Has she been +saying anything to you?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head, staring down at her. Hilda put her arms on the arms +of the chair, and, shirking the man's gaze, stared down at the worn carpet +and at his boots thereon. One instinct in her desired that he should move +away or that the room should be larger, but another instinct wanted him to +remain close, lest the savour of life should lose its sharpness.</p> + +<p>"It passes me how people can say such things!" she went on, in a low, +thrilled, meditative voice. "I can't understand it!" She was quite sincere +in her astonished indignation. Nevertheless, she experienced a positive +pride at being brought into a scandal with George Cannon; she derived from +it a certain feeling of importance; it proved that she was no longer a mere +girlish miss.</p> + +<p>George Cannon kept silence.</p> + +<p>"I shall leave Brighton," Hilda continued. "That I've quite decided! I +don't like leaving your sister, as ill as she is! But really--" And she +thought how prudent she was, and how capable of taking care of herself--she +all alone in the world!</p> + +<p>"Where should you go to? Bursley? The Orgreaves?" George Cannon asked +absently and carelessly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Hilda, with curtness.</p> + +<p>He stepped aside, in the direction of the window, and examined curiously +the surface of the glass, as though in search of a concealed message which +it might contain. In a new and much more animated voice he said to the +window:</p> + +<p>"Of course I know it's all my fault!"</p> + +<p>Hilda glanced up at his back; he was still not more than three feet away +from her.</p> + +<p>"How is it your fault?" she asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>He made another pause.</p> + +<p>"The way I look at you," he said.</p> + +<p>These apparently simple words made Hilda tremble, and deprived her of +speech. They shifted the conversation to another plane. 'The way I look at +you! The way I look at you!' What did he mean? How did he look at her? She +could not imagine what he was driving at! Yes, she could! She knew quite +well. All the time, while pretending to herself not to understand, she +understood. It was staggering, but she perfectly understood. He had looked +at her 'like that' on the very first day of their acquaintance, in his +office at Turnhill, and again at the house in Lessways Street, and again in +the newspaper office, and on other occasions, and again on the night of +their arrival at Brighton. But surely not lately! Or did he look at her +'like that' behind her back? Was it possible that people noticed it?... +Absurd! His explanation of the origin of the gossip did not convince her. +She had, however, suddenly lost interest in the origin of the gossip. She +was entirely occupied with George Cannon's tone, and his calm, audacious +reference to a phenomenon which had hitherto seemed to her to be far beyond +the region of words.</p> + +<p>She was frightened. She was like some one walking secure in the night, +who is stopped by the sound of rushing water and stands with all his senses +astrain, afraid to move a step farther, too absorbed and intimidated to be +aware of astonishment. The point was not whether or not she had known or +guessed the existence of this unseen and formidable river; the point was +that she was thrillingly on its brink, in the dark. Every instant she heard +its swelling current plainer and plainer. She thought: "Am I lost? How +strange that this awful and exquisite thing should happen to just me!" She +was quite fatalistic.</p> + +<p>He turned his head suddenly and caught her guilty eyes for an instant +before she could lower them.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say you don't know what I mean?" he said.</p> + +<p>She still could not speak. Her trouble was acute, her self-consciousness +far keener than it had ever been before. She thought: "But it's impossible +that this awful and exquisite thing should happen in this fashion!" George +Cannon moved a step towards her. She could not see his face, but she knew +that he was looking at her with his expression at once tyrannic and +benevolent. She could feel, beating upon her, the emanating waves of his +personality. And she was as confused as though she had been sitting naked +in front of him.... And he had brought all this about by simply putting +something into words--by saying: "It's the way I look at you!"</p> + +<p>He went on:</p> + +<p>"I can't help it, you know.... The very first minute I ever set eyes on +you.... Of course I'm thirty-six. But there it is!... I've never seen any +one like you; and I've seen a few! The fact is, Hilda, I do believe you +don't know how fine you are." He spoke more quickly and with boyish +enthusiasm; his voice became wonderfully persuasive. "You are fine, you +know! And you're beautiful! I didn't think so at first, but you are! You're +being wasted. Why, a woman like you...! You've no idea. You're so proud and +stiff, when you want to be... I'd trust you with anything. You're +absolutely the only woman I ever met that I'd trust like a man! And that's +a fact.... Now, nobody could ever think as much of you as I do. I'm quite +certain of it. It couldn't be done. I <i>know</i> you, you see! I +understand everything you do, and whatever you do, it's just fine for me. +You couldn't be as happy with any one else! You couldn't! I feel that in my +bones.... Now--now, I must tell you something--"</p> + +<p>The praise, the sympathy, the passion were astounding, marvellous, and +delicious to her. Was it conceivable that this experienced and worldly man +had been captivated by such a mere girl as herself? She had never guessed +it! Or had she always guessed it? An intense pride warmed her blood like a +powerful cordial. Life was even grander than she had thought!... She +drooped into an intoxication. Among all that he had said, he had not said +that he was not stronger than she. He had not relinquished his authority. +She felt it, sitting almost beneath him in the slippery chair. She knew +that she would yield to him. She desired to yield to him. Her mind was full +of sensuous images based on the abdication of her will in favour of +his.</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, Hilda. I want to tell you--"</p> + +<p>He perhaps did not intend that she should look up; but she looked up. +And she was surprised to see that his face was full of troubled +hesitations, showing almost dismay. He made the motion of swallowing. She +smiled; and set her shoulders back--the very gesture that she had learned +from him.</p> + +<p>"What?" she questioned, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Her brief mood of courage was over. She sank before him again, and +waited with bowed head.</p> + +<p>Profoundly disturbed, he stood quite still for a few seconds, with shut +lips, and then he made another step to approach.</p> + +<p>"Your name's got to be Cannon," she heard him say.</p> + +<p>She thought, still waiting: "If this goes on a moment longer I shall die +of anticipation, in bliss." And when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and +the great shadow of him on part of her face, her body seemed to sigh, +acquiescent and for the moment assuaged: "This is a miracle, and life is +miraculous!" She acknowledged that she had lacked faith in life.</p> + +<p>She was now on the river, whirling. But at the same time she was in the +small, hot room, and both George Cannon's hands were on her unresisting +shoulders; and then they were round her, and she felt his physical +nearness, the texture of his coat and of his skin; she could see in a mist +the separate hairs of his tremendous moustache and the colours swimming in +his eyes; her nostrils expanded in transient alarm to a faint, exciting +masculine odour. She was disconcerted, if not panic-struck, by the violence +of his first kiss; but her consternation was delectable to her.</p> + +<p>And amid her fright and her joy, and the wonder of her extreme surprise, +and the preoccupation of being whirled down the river, she calmly +reflected, somewhere in her brain: "The door is not locked. Supposing some +one were to come in and see us!" And she reflected also, in an ecstasy of +relief: "My life will be quite simple, now. I shall have nothing to worry +about. And I can help him." For during a year past she had never ceased to +ask herself what she must do to arrange her life; her conscience had never +ceased to tell her that she ought not to be content to remain in the narrow +ideas of her mother, and that though she preferred marriage she ought to +act independently of the hope of it. Throughout her long stay in Preston +Street she had continually said: "After this--what? This cannot last for +ever. When it comes to an end what am I to do to satisfy my conscience?" +And she had thought vaguely of magnificent activities and purposes--she +knew not what.... The problem existed no more. Her life was arranged. And +now, far more sincerely than in the King's Road twenty minutes earlier, she +regarded the career of a spinster with horror and with scorn. At best, she +suddenly perceived with blinding clearness, it would have been +pitiful--pitiful! Twenty minutes earlier, in the King's Road, she had +dreamt of belonging absolutely to some man, of being at his disposal, of +being under his might, of being helpless before him. And now!... Miracle +thrice miraculous! Miracle unconceived, inconceivable!... No more 'talk' +now!...</p> + +<p>She told herself how admirable was the man. She assured herself that he +was entirely admirable. She reminded herself that she had always deemed him +admirable, that only twenty minutes earlier, in the King's Road, when there +was in her mind no dimmest, wildest notion of the real future, she had +genuinely admired him. How clever, how tactful, how indomitable, how +conquering, how generous, how kind he was! How kind to his half-sister! How +forbearing with her! Indeed, she could not recall his faults. And he was +inevitably destined to brilliant success. She would be the wife of a great +and a wealthy man. And in her own secret ways she could influence him, and +thus be greater than the great.</p> + +<p>Love? It is an absolute fact that the name of 'love' did not in the +first eternal moments even occur to her. And when it did she gave it but +little importance. She had to admit that she had not consciously thought of +George Cannon with love--at any rate with love as she had imagined love to +be. Indeed, her immediate experience would not fit any theory that she +could formulate. But with the inexorable realism of her sex she easily +dismissed inconvenient names and theories, and accommodated herself to the +fact. And the fact was that she overwhelmingly wanted George Cannon, and, +as she now recognized, had wanted him ever since she first saw him. The +recognition afforded her intense pleasure. She abandoned herself candidly +to this luxury of an unknown desire. It was incomparably the most splendid +and dangerous experience that she had ever had. She did not reason and she +had no wish to reason. She was set above reason. Happy to the point of +delicious pain, she yet yearned forward to a happiness far more +excruciating. She was perfectly aware that her bliss would be torment until +George Cannon had married her, until she had wholly surrendered to him.</p> + +<p>Yet at intervals a voice said very clearly within her: "All this is +wrong. This is base and shameful. This is something to blush for, really!" +She did blush. But her blushes were a part of the delight. And the voice +was not persistent. She could silence it with scarcely an effort, despite +its clarity.</p> + +<p>"Kiss me!" George Cannon demanded of her, with eager masterfulness.</p> + +<p>The request shocked her for an instant, and the young girl in her was +about to revolt. But she kissed him--an act which combined the sweetness of +submission with the glory of triumph! She looked at him steadily, confident +in herself and in him. She felt that he knew how to love. His emotion +filled her with superb pride. She seemed to be saying to him in a doomed +rapture: "Do you think I don't know what I am doing? I know! I know!"</p> + +<p>The current of the river was tremendous. She foresaw the probability of +disaster. She was aware that she had definitely challenged the hazard of +fate. But she was not terrified in the dark, swirling night of her destiny. +She straightened her shoulders. With all her innocence and ignorance and +impulsiveness and weakness, she had behind her the unique and priceless +force of her youth. She was young, and she put her trust in life.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b4c3">CHAPTER III</a><br /> FLORRIE AGAIN</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>As they were walking home along the King's Road, Hilda suddenly stopped +in front of a chemist's shop. "I've got something to buy here," she said +diffidently, and then added: "I'll follow you."</p> + +<p>"And what have you got to buy?" he asked, facing her, with his +benevolent, ironical expression.</p> + +<p>"Never mind!" she gently laughed. "I shan't be many minutes after you." +She pretended to make a mystery. But her sole purpose was to avoid +re-entering the house in his company; and she knew that he had divined +this. Nevertheless, she found pleasure in the perfectly futile pretence of +a mysterious purchase.</p> + +<p>She was very self-conscious as they stood there on the dusty footpath +amid the promenaders gay and gloomy, chattering and silent, who were taking +the sun and the salt breeze. Despite her reason, she had a fear that +numbers of people would perceive her to be newly affianced and remark upon +the contrast between her girlishness and his maturity. But George Cannon +was not in the slightest degree self-conscious. He played the lover with +ease and said quite simply and convincingly just the things which she would +have expected a lover to say. Indeed, the conversation, as carried on by +him, between the moment of betrothal and the arrival at the chemist's shop, +was the one phenomenon of the engagement which corresponded with her +preconceived ideas concerning such an affair. It convinced her that she +really was affianced.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he murmured fondly and yet quizzically, as they remained +wordless, deliciously hesitating to part. "What are you thinking +about?"</p> + +<p>She replied with brave candour, appealing to him by a soft glance:</p> + +<p>"I was only thinking how queer it is I should be engaged in a room I'd +never seen before in my life--going into it like that!"</p> + +<p>He looked at her uncomprehending; for an instant his features were +blank; then he smiled kindly.</p> + +<p>"It's so strange!" she encouraged him.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Isn't it?" he agreed, with charming, tranquil politeness.</p> + +<p>"He doesn't see it!" she thought, as she watched the play of his face. +"He doesn't see how wonderful it is that I should go into a room that was +absolutely unknown to me and then this should happen at once. Why! I never +knew there was such a room!" She could not define how she was affected by +this fact, but she regarded the fact as tremendously romantic, and its +effect on her was profound. And George saw in it no significance! She was +disconcerted. She felt a tremor; it was as though the entire King's Road +had quivered for a fraction of a second and then, feigning nonchalance, +resumed its moveless solidity.</p> + +<p>Inside the chemist's she demanded the first thing she set eyes on--a +tooth-brush. All the while she was examining various shapes of +toothbrushes, she had a vision of George raising his hat to take leave of +her, and she could see not only the curve of his hand and the whiteness of +his cuff, but also the millions of tiny marks and creases on the coarse +skin of his face, extraordinarily different from her own smooth, pure, +delicate, silky complexion. And she remembered that less than three years +ago she had regarded him as of another generation, as indefinitely older +and infinitely more experienced than her childish and simple self. This +reflection produced in her a consternation which was curiously +blissful.</p> + +<p>"No, madam," the white-aproned chemist was saying. "It's this size that +we usually sell to ladies."</p> + +<p>She put on the serious judicial air of an authentic adult woman, and +frowned at the chemist.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>When, in Preston Street, she was reluctantly approaching the house, she +saw a cab, coming downwards in the opposite direction, stop at No. 59.</p> + +<p>"That must be Florrie!" she said, half-aloud.</p> + +<p>The boarding-house being in need of another servant, young, strong, and +reliable, Hilda had suggested that Miss Florence Bagster might be invited +to accept the situation. Sarah Gailey had agreed that it would be wise to +have a servant from Turnhill; she mistrusted southern servants, and +appeared to believe that there was no real honesty south of the Trent. +Florence Bagster had accepted the situation with enthusiasm, writing that +she longed to be again with her former mistress; she did not write that the +mysterious and magnetic name of Brighton called her more loudly than the +name of her former mistress. And now Florence was due.</p> + +<p>But it was not Florence who emerged from the cab. It was a tall and +full-bosomed young lady in a gay multi-coloured costume, and gloves and a +sunshade and a striking hat. This young lady stood by the cab expectant and +smiling while the cabman pulled a tin trunk off the roof of the vehicle, +and then, when the cabman had climbed down and was dragging the trunk after +him, she put out an arm and seized one handle of the trunk to help him, +which act, so strange on the part of a young lady, made Hilda, coming +nearer and nearer, look more carefully. She was astounded as she realized +that the unknown young lady was not a young lady after all, but the +familiar Florrie at the advanced age of sixteen.</p> + +<p>The aged cabman had made no mistake. He left the tin trunk on the +pavement and took timid Florrie's money without touching his hat for it. +Florrie was laying her sunshade rather forlornly on the top of the tin +trunk and preparing to lift the trunk unaided, when Mr. Boutwood, stout and +all in black, came gallantly forth from the house to assist her. Sarah +Gailey's opposition had not been persistent enough to keep the jovial Mr. +Boutwood out of No. 59. Shortly after Christmas his wife had died suddenly, +and Mr. Boutwood, with plenty of time and plenty of money on his hands, had +found himself desolated. In his desolation he had sought his old +acquaintance George Cannon, and the result had somehow been that bygones +had become bygones and a new boarder had increased the prosperity of No. +59. Sarah Gailey could not object. Indeed, she had actually wept for the +death of one enemy and the affliction of another. Moreover, she seldom had +contact with the boarders now.</p> + +<p>The rather peculiar circumstances of Florrie's arrival almost cured +Hilda's self-consciousness, and she entered the house, in the wake of the +trunk, with a certain forgetful ease. There was Mr. Boutwood, still +dallying with Florrie and the trunk, in the narrow hall! The shocking +phenomenon of a boarder helping a domestic servant with her luggage had +been rendered possible only by a series of accidents. The front door being +left open on account of the weather, Mr. Boutwood had had a direct view of +the maiden, and the maiden had not been obliged to announce her arrival +officially by ringing a bell. Hence the other servants had not had notice. +And of the overseers of the house one was imprisoned in the basement and +the other two had been out betrothing themselves! In the ordinary way the +slightest unusualness in the hall would instantly attract the attention of +somebody in authority.</p> + +<p>Mr. Boutwood was not immediately aware of Hilda. His attitude towards +Florrie was shocking to Hilda in a double sense; it shocked her as an +overseer, but it shocked her quite as much as a young woman newly jealous +for the pride of all her sex. Florrie was beyond question exceedingly +pretty; in particular the chin pouted more deliriously than ever. Her +complexion was even finer than Hilda's own. She had a simple, good-natured +glance, a quick and extraordinarily seductive smile, and the unique bodily +grace of her years. Her costume, though vulgar and very ill-made, was +effective at a little distance; her form and movements gave it a fictitious +worth. Indeed, she was an amazing blossom to have come off the dunghill of +Calder Street. Domestic drudgery had not yet dehumanized nor disfigured +her--it is true that her hands were concealed in gloves, and her feet +beneath a flowing skirt. Now, Mr. Boutwood's attitude showed very plainly +that the girlish charms of Florrie had produced in him a definite and +familiar effect. He would have been ready to commit follies for the young +woman, and to deny that she was a drudge or anything but a beautiful +creature.</p> + +<p>Hilda objected. She objected because Mr. Boutwood was a widower, holding +that he had no right to joy, and that he ought to mourn practically for +ever in solitude. She would make no allowance for his human instincts, his +needs of intimate companionship, his enormous unoccupied leisure. She would +have condemned him utterly on the score of his widowhood alone. But she +objected far more strongly to his attitude because he was fat and looked +somewhat coarse. She counted his obesity to him for a sin. And it was +naught to her that he had been a martyr to idleness and wealth, which +combination had prematurely aged him. Mr. Boutwood was really younger than +George Cannon, and Florence Bagster certainly seemed as old as Hilda. Yet +the juxtaposition of the young, slim, and virginal Florrie and the large, +earth-worn Mr. Boutwood profoundly offended her.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Boutwood who first discovered that Hilda was in the doorway. +He was immediately abashed, and presented the most foolish appearance. +Whereupon Hilda added scorn to her disgust. Florrie, however, easily kept +her countenance, and with a pert smile took the hand which her former +mistress graciously extended. By universal custom a servant retains some of +the privileges of humanity for several minutes after entering upon a new +servitude. Mr. Boutwood vanished.</p> + +<p>"Louisa will help you upstairs with the trunk," said Hilda, when she had +made inquiries about the wonderful journey which Florrie had accomplished +alone, and about the health of Florrie's aunt and of her family. "Louisa!" +she called loudly up the stairs and down into the basement.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>She followed the procession of the trunk upstairs, and, Louisa having +descended again, showed Florrie into the kennel. This tiny apartment had in +it two truckle-beds, and a wash-bowl on a chair, and little else. A very +small square trap-window in the low ceiling procured a dusky light in the +middle hours of the day. Florence seemed delighted with the room; she might +have had to sleep under the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Put on your afternoon apron, and then you can go down and see Miss +Gailey," said Hilda, and shut the door upon Florrie in her new home.</p> + +<p>When she turned, there was George Cannon on the half-landing beneath the +skylight! She knew not how he had come there, nor whether he had entered +the house before or after herself.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad he isn't fat!" she thought. And it was as though she had +thought: "If he were fat everything would be different." Her features did +not relax as she went down the five steps to the half-landing where he +waited, smiling faintly. She thought: "We must be very serious and +circumspect in the house. There must never be the slightest--" But while +she was yet on the last step, he firmly put his hands on her ears and, +drawing her head towards him, kissed her full on the mouth, and she saw +again, through her eyelashes, all the details of his face. She yielded. All +her ideas of circumspection melted magically away in an abandoned +tenderness of which she was ashamed, but for which she would have +unreflectingly made any sacrifice. The embrace was over in an instant. +Besides being guiltless of obesity, George Cannon was free from the +unpardonable fault of clumsiness. He was audacious, but he was not +foolhardy, and he would never be abashed. True, she had seen dismay on his +face at the moment of his declaration, but that moment was unique, and his +dismay had ineffably flattered her. Now, on the half-landing, she was +drenched in bliss. And she felt dissolute; she felt even base. But she did +not care. She thought, as it were, startled: "This is love. This must be +what love is. I must have been in love without knowing it. And as for a +girl always knowing when a man's in love with her, and foreseeing the +proposal, and all that sort of thing...." Her practical contempt for all +that sort of thing could not be stated in words.</p> + +<p>"Florrie's just come," she whispered, and by a movement of the head +indicated that Florrie was in the kennel.</p> + +<p>They went together to the drawing-room on the first floor. It was, +empty, the entire population of the boarding-houses being still on the +seashore. Hilda stood near the door, which she left open, and gave detailed +news of Florrie in a tone very matter-of-fact. There was no reference to +love, or to the new situation created, or to the vast enterprise of the +Chichester. The topic was Florrie, and somehow it held the field despite +efforts to dislodge it.</p> + +<p>Then the stairs creaked. Already Florrie was coming down. In a trice she +had made herself ready for work. She came down timidly, not daring to look +to right nor left, but concentrating her attention on the stairs. She +passed along the landing outside the drawing-room door, and Hilda, opening +the door a little wider, had a full surreptitious view of her back; and +George Cannon, farther within the room, also saw her. They watched her +disappear on her way to find the basement and the formidable Sarah Gailey. +Hilda was touched by the spectacle of this child disguised as a strapping +woman, far removed from her family and her companions and her familiar +haunts, and driven or drawn into exile at Brighton, where she would only +see the sea once a week, except through windows, and where she would have +to work from fourteen to sixteen hours a day for a living, and sleep in a +kennel. The prettiness, the pertness, and the naïve contentedness of +the child thus realizing an ambition touched her deeply.</p> + +<p>"It does seem a shame, doesn't it?" she said.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Bringing her all the way up here, like this! She doesn't know a soul in +Brighton. She's bound to be frightfully home-sick--"</p> + +<p>"What about you?" George Cannon interrupted politely. "Doesn't she know +you?" He smiled with all his kindness.</p> + +<p>"Yes--but--"</p> + +<p>Hilda did not finish. It was not worth while. George Cannon had not +understood. He did not feel as she felt, and her emotion was incommunicable +to him. A tremendous misgiving seized her, and she had a physical feeling +of emptiness in the stomach. It passed, swiftly as a hallucination. Just +such a misgiving as visits nearly every normal person immediately before or +immediately after marriage! She ignored it. She was engaged--that was the +paramount fact! She was engaged, and joyously determined to prosecute the +grand adventure to the end. The immensity of the risks forced her to accept +them.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>That evening Sarah Gailey was in torment from the pain in her wrists. +There was nothing to be done. She had had the doctor, and no article of the +prescribed treatment had been neglected. With unaccustomed aid from Hilda +she had accomplished the business of undressing and getting into bed, and +now she sat up in bed, supported by her own pillows and one from Hilda's +bed, and nursed her wrists, while Hilda poured drops of a narcotic for her +into a glass of water. Apart from the serious local symptoms, her health +was fairly good. She could eat, she could talk, she could walk, and her +brain was clear. Hilda held the glass for her to drink, for it was prudent +to keep her hands as much as possible in repose.</p> + +<p>"There!" said Hilda, as if to a young child who had been querulous. "I'm +sure you'll sleep now!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall," the sufferer whined.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you will!" Hilda insisted firmly, although she was by no means +sure. "Let me take this extra pillow away, and then you can lie down +properly." She was thinking reproachfully: "What a pity it is for all of us +that the poor thing can't bear her pain with a little less fuss!" It was +not Sarah alone who was embittered and fatigued by Sarah's pain.</p> + +<p>"Where's George?" asked the invalid, when she was laid down.</p> + +<p>"In the parlour. Why?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing!"</p> + +<p>"By the way," said Hilda, seized by a sudden impulse, which had its +origin in Sarah's tone at once martyrized and accusing,--"by the way, who +<i>is</i> it that's been talking scandal about me and George?"</p> + +<p>"Scandal?" Sarah Gailey seemed weakly to protest against the word.</p> + +<p>"Because, if you want to know," Hilda continued, "we're engaged to be +married!" She reflected, contrite: "This won't help her to sleep!" And then +added, in a new, endearing accent, awaiting an outburst of some kind from +Sarah: "Of course it's a secret, dear. I'm telling no one but you."</p> + +<p>After a moment's silence, Sarah remarked casually, with shut eyes: +"It'll be much the best not to tell anyone. And the shorter the engagement +the better! Don't let anybody in the house know till you're married." She +sighed, put her cheek into the pillow, and moved her bound wrists for a few +seconds, restlessly. "If you turn the gas down," she finished very wearily, +"I dare say I may get off. If only they'd stop that piano upstairs!"</p> + +<p>She had displayed no surprise at the tremendous event, no sentimental +interest in it. The fact was that Sarah Gailey's wrists were infinitely +more interesting to her than any conceivable project of marriage. +Continuous and acute pain had withdrawn her from worldly affairs, making +her more than ever like a god.</p> + +<p>Hilda was startled. But she was relieved. Now for the first time she had +the authentic sensation of being engaged. And it appeared to her that she +had been engaged for a very long period, and that the engagement was a +quite ordinary affair. She was relieved; yet she was also grievously +saddened. She lowered the gas, and in the gloom gazed for a few seconds at +the vague, huddled, sheeted, faintly moaning figure on the bed; the untidy +grey hair against the pillow struck her as intolerably pathetic.</p> + +<p>"Good night," she said softly.</p> + +<p>And the feeble, plaintive voice responded: "Good night."</p> + +<p>She went out, leaving the door slightly ajar.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>In the parlour adjoining George Cannon was seated at the table. When +Hilda saw him and their eyes met, she was comforted; a wave of tenderness +seemed to agitate her. She realized that this man was hers, and the +realization was marvellously reassuring. The sound of the piano descended +delicately from the drawing-room as from a great distance. From the kitchen +came the muffled clatter of earthenware and occasionally a harsh, loud +voice; it was the hour of relaxed discipline in the kitchen, where amid the +final washing-up and much free discussion and banter, Florrie was +recommencing her career on a grander basis. Hilda closed the door very +quietly. When she had closed it and was shut in with George Cannon her +emotion grew intenser.</p> + +<p>"I think she'll get off now," she whispered, standing near the door.</p> + +<p>"Have you told her?"</p> + +<p>Hilda nodded.</p> + +<p>"What does she say?"</p> + +<p>Hilda raised her eyebrows: "Oh!... Well, she says we'd better keep it +quiet, and make the engagement as short as possible." She blushed.</p> + +<p>"Look here," said George. "Let's go out, eh?"</p> + +<p>"But--what will people say?"</p> + +<p>"What the devil does it matter what they say? I want you to come out +with me."</p> + +<p>The whispered oath, and his defiant smile, enchanted her.</p> + +<p>"We can go out by the area steps," he continued. "There's two of 'em +sitting in the hall, but the front door's shut. Do go and get your +hat."</p> + +<p>She left the room with an obedient smile. Pushing open Sarah's door very +gently, she groped on the hooks behind it for her hat. "It won't matter +about gloves--in the dark," she thought. "Besides, I mustn't disturb her." +Before drawing-to the door she looked again at the bed. There was neither +sound nor movement. Probably Sarah Gailey slept. The dim vision of the form +on the bed and the blue spark of gas in the corner produced in Hilda a mood +of poignant and yet delicious sorrow.</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" George Cannon asked when she had returned to +the parlour.</p> + +<p>She knew that her eyes were humid with tears. Both her arms were raised +above her head as she fixed the hat. This act of fixing the hat in George's +presence gave her a new pleasure. She smiled at him.</p> + +<p>"Nothing!" she said, whispering mysteriously. "I think she's gone off. +I'm so glad. You know she really does suffer dreadfully."</p> + +<p>His look was uncomprehending; but she did not care. The anticipation of +going out with him was now utterly absorbing her.</p> + +<p>He waited with his hand on the gas-tap till she was ready, and then he +lowered the gas.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," she whispered at the door, and with a gesture called +him back into the room from the flagged passage leading to the area +steps.</p> + +<p>On the desk was his evening glass of milk, which he drank cold in +summer. She offered it to him in the twilit room like an enraptured +handmaid. He had forgotten it. The fact that he had forgotten it and she +had remembered it yet further increased her strange, mournful, ecstatic +bliss.</p> + +<p>"Have some," he whispered, when he had drunk.</p> + +<p>She finished the glass, trembling. They went forth, climbing the area +steps with proper precautions and escaping as thieves escape, down the +street. For an instant she glimpsed the wide-open windows of the +drawing-room, and the dining-room, from behind whose illuminated blinds +came floating, as it were wistfully, the sound of song and chatter. She +thought of Sarah Gailey prone and unconscious in the basement. And she felt +the moisture of the milk on her lips. "Am I happy or unhappy?" she +questioned herself, and could not reply. She knew only that she was +thrillingly, smartingly alive.</p> + +<p>At the corner of Preston Street and King's Road a landau waited.</p> + +<p>"This is ours," said George casually.</p> + +<p>"Ours?"</p> + +<p>What a splendid masculine idea! How it proved that he too had been +absorbed in the adventure! She admired him humbly, like a girl, like a +little girl. With the most formal deference he helped her into the +carriage.</p> + +<p>"Drive towards Shoreham," he commandingly directed the driver, and took +his place by her side.</p> + +<p>Yes! He was mature. He was a man of the world. He had had every +experience. He knew how to love. That such a being was hers, that she +without any effort had captured such a being, flattered her to an extreme +degree. She was glorious with pride. She leaned back in the carriage +negligently, affecting an absolute calm. She armed herself in her +virginity. Not George Cannon himself could have guessed that only by a +miracle of self-control did she prevent her hand from seeking his beneath +the light rug that covered their knees! She intimidated George Cannon in +that hour, and the while her heart burned with shame at the secret violence +of her feelings. She thought: "This must be love. This is love!" And yet +her conscience inarticulately accused her of obliquity. But she did not +care, and she would not reflect. She thought that she wilfully, perversely, +refused to reflect; but in reality she was quite helpless.</p> + +<p>Under the still and feverish night the landau rolled slowly along +between the invisible murmuring sea and the lighted facades of Hove. +Occasionally other carriages, containing other couples, approached, were +plain for a moment, and dissolved away.</p> + +<p>"So she thinks the engagement ought to be short?" said George +Cannon.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"So do I!" he pronounced with emphasis.</p> + +<p>Hilda desired to ask him: "How short?" But she could not. She could not +bring herself to put the question. She was too proud. By a short +engagement, did he mean six months, three months, a month? Dared she hope +that he meant... a month? This was a thought buried in the deepest fastness +of her soul, a thought that she would have perished in order not to expose; +but it existed.</p> + +<p>"I think I should like to go back now," she breathed timidly, before +they were beyond Hove. It was not a request to be ignored. The carriage +turned. She felt relief. The sensation of being alive had been too acute to +be borne, and it was now a little eased. She knew that her destiny was +irrevocable, that nothing could prevent her from being George Cannon's. +Whether the destiny was evil or good did not paramountly interest her. But +she wanted to rush forward into the arms of fate and know her fate. She +dreamed only of the union.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="b5">BOOK V</a><br /> HER DELIVERANCE</h1> + + + + +<h2><a name="b5c1">CHAPTER I</a><br /> LOUISA UNCONTROLLED</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Hilda, after a long railway journey, was bathing her face, arms, and +neck at the large double washstand in the large double bedroom on the +second floor of No. 59 Preston Street. At the back of the washstand was an +unused door which gave into a small bedroom occupied by the youngest Miss +Watchett. George Cannon came up quietly behind her. She pretended not to +hear him. He put his hands lightly on her wet arms. Smiling with +condescending indulgence, half to herself, she still pretended to ignore +him, and continued her toilet.</p> + +<p>The return from the honeymoon, which she had feared, had accomplished +itself quite simply and easily. She had feared the return, because only +upon the return was the marriage to be formally acknowledged and published. +It had been obviously impossible to announce, during the strenuous summer +season, the engagement of the landlord to a young woman who lived under the +same roof with him. The consequences of such an indiscretion would have +been in various ways embarrassing. Hence not a word was said. Nor were +definite plans for the wedding made until George remarked one evening that +he would like to be married at Chichester, Chichester being the name of his +new private hotel. Which exhibition of sentimentality had both startled and +touched Hilda. Chichester, however, had to be renounced, owing to the +difficulty of residence. The subject having been thus fairly broached, +George had pursued it, and one day somewhat casually stated that he had +taken a room in Lewes and meant to sleep there every night for the term +imposed by the law. Less than three weeks later, Hilda had inobtrusively +departed from No. 59, the official account being that she was to take a +holiday with friends after the fatigues of August and early September. She +left the train at Lewes, and there, in the presence of strangers, was +married to George Cannon, who had quitted Brighton two days earlier and was +supposed to be in London on business. Even Sarah Gailey, though her health +had improved, did not assist at the wedding. Sarah, sole depositary of the +secret, had to remain in charge of No. 59.</p> + +<p>A strange wedding! Not a single wedding present, except those +interchanged by the principals! Nor had any of the problems raised by the +marriage been solved, or attacked. The future of Sarah Gailey, for example! +Was Sarah to go on living with them? It was inconceivable, and yet the +converse was also inconceivable. Sarah had said nothing, and nothing had +been said to Sarah. Matters were to settle themselves. It had not even been +decided which room Mr. and Mrs. Cannon should inhabit as man and wife. It +was almost certain that, in the dead period between the popular summer +season and the fashionable autumn season, there would be several bedrooms +empty. Hilda, like George, did not want to bother with a lot of tedious +details, important or unimportant. The attitude of each was: "Let me get +married first, and then I'll see to all that."</p> + +<p>Thus had the return been formidable to Hilda. All the way from Ireland +she had been saying to herself: "I shall have to go up the steps, and into +the house, and be spoken to as Mrs. Cannon! And then there'll be Sarah...!" +But the entry into the house had produced no terror. Everywhere George's +adroitness had been wonderful, extraordinarily comforting and reassuring, +and nowhere more so than in the vestibule of No. 59. The tone in which he +had said to Louisa, "Take Mrs. Cannon's handbag, Louisa," had been a marvel +of ease. Louisa had incontestably blenched, for the bizarre Sarah, who +conserved in Brighton the inmost spirit of the Five Towns, had thought fit +to tell the servants nothing whatever. But the trained veteran in Louisa +had instantly recovered, and she had replied "Yes, sir," with a simplicity +which proved her to be the equal of George Cannon.... The worst was over +for Hilda. And the next moments were made smooth by reason of a great piece +of news which, forcing Sarah Gailey to communicate it at once, monopolized +attention, and so entirely relieved the bride's self-consciousness.</p> + +<p>Florence Bagster, having insolently quarrelled with her mistress, had +left her service without notice. Mr. Boutwood had also gone, and the +connection between the two departures was only too apparent, not merely to +Sarah, but also to the three Miss Watchetts, who had recently arrived. +Florence, who could but whisper, had shouted at her mistress. Little, +flushing, modest Florrie, who yesterday in the Five Towns was an infant, +had compromised herself with a fat widower certainly old enough to be her +father. And the widower, the friend of the house, had had so little regard +for the feelings of the house that he had not hesitated to flaunt with +Florrie in the town. It was known that they were more or less together, and +that he stood between Florrie and the world.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"I suppose I'd better write at once to her mother--or perhaps her aunt; +her aunt's got more sense," said Hilda, as she dropped the sponge and +groped for a towel, her eyes half blinded.</p> + +<p>In moving she had escaped from his hands.</p> + +<p>"What do you say?" she asked, having heard a vague murmur through the +towel.</p> + +<p>"I say you can write if you like." George spoke with a careless +smile.</p> + +<p>Now, facing her, he put his hands on her damp shoulders. She looked up +at him over the towel, leaning her head forward, and suspending action. Her +nose was about a foot from his. She saw, as she had seen a hundred times, +every detail of his large, handsome and yet time-worn face, every hair of +his impressive moustache, all the melting shades of colour in his dark +eyes. His charm was coarse and crude, but he was very skilful, and there +was something about his experienced, weather-beaten, slightly depraved air, +which excited her. She liked to feel young and girlish before him; she +liked to feel that with him, alone of all men, her modesty availed nothing. +She was beginning to realize her power over him, and the extent of it. It +was a power miraculous and mysterious, never claimed by her, and never +admitted by him save in glance and gesture. This power lay in the fact that +she was indispensable to him. He was not her slave--she might indeed have +been considered the human chattel--but he was the slave of his need of her. +He loved her. In him she saw what love was; she had seen it more and more +clearly ever since the day of their engagement. She was both proud and +ashamed of her power. He did not possess a similar power over herself. She +was fond of him, perhaps getting fonder; but his domination of her senses +was already nearly at an end. She had passed through painful, shattering +ecstasies of bliss, hours unforgettable, hours which she knew could never +recur. And she was left sated and unsatisfied. So that by virtue of this +not yet quite bitter disillusion, she was coming to regard herself as his +superior, as being less naïve than he, as being even essentially older +than he. And in speaking to him sometimes she would put on a grave and +precociously sapient mien, as if to indicate that she had access to sources +of wisdom for ever closed to him.</p> + +<p>"But don't you think we <i>ought</i> to write?" she frowned.</p> + +<p>"Certainly if you like! It won't do any good. You don't suppose her aunt +will come down here, do you? And even if she did.... There it is, and there +you are!"</p> + +<p>"Just let me wipe my shoulders, will you?" she said.</p> + +<p>He lifted his hands obediently, and as they were damp he rubbed them on +the loose corner of the towel.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I must be off, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"Shall you see Mr. Boutwood?"</p> + +<p>"I might.... I know where to catch him, I fancy."</p> + +<p>She seemed to have a glimpse of her husband's separate life in the +town--masculine haunts and habits of which she knew nothing and would +always know nothing. And the large existence of the male made her +envious.</p> + +<p>"Going to see him now?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes." George smiled roguishly.</p> + +<p>"What shall you say to him?"</p> + +<p>"What can I say to him? No business of mine, you know, except that we've +lost a decent servant. But I expect that's Sarah's fault. She's no use +whatever with servants, now, Sarah isn't."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> shall never speak to Mr. Boutwood again!" Hilda exclaimed +almost passionately.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but--"</p> + +<p>"His behaviour is simply scandalous. It's really wicked. A man like +him!"</p> + +<p>George put his lips out deprecatingly. "You may depend she asked for +it," he said.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"She asked for it," he repeated with convinced firmness, and looked at +her steadily.</p> + +<p>A flush slowly spread over her face and neck, and she lowered her gaze. +In her breast pride and shame were again mingled.</p> + +<p>"You keep your hair on, littl'un," said George soothingly, and kissed +her. Then he took his hat and stick, which were with a lot of other things +on the broad white counterpane, and went off stylishly.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand," she threw at him with a delicious side-glance of +reproof as he opened the door. She reproached herself for the deceiving +coquetry of the glance.</p> + +<p>"Don't I?" he returned airily.</p> + +<p>He was quite sure that nothing escaped his intelligence. To Hilda, +shocked by the coarseness and the obtuseness which evidently characterized +his attitude, now as on other occasions, this self-confidence was +desolating; it was ominously sinister.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>She was alone with her image in the mirror, and the image was precisely +the same that she had always seen; she could detect no change in it +whatever. She liked the sensation of being alone and at home in this room +which before she had only entered as an overseer and which she had never +expected to occupy. She savoured the intimacy of the room--the necessaries +on the washstand, the superb tortoiseshell brushes, bought by George in +Dublin, on the dressing-table, the open trunks, George's clothes on a +chair, and her own flimsy trifles on the bed. Through the glass she saw, +behind her image, the image of the closed door; and then she turned round +to look at the real door and to assure herself that it was closed. +Childish! And yet...! George had shut the door. She remembered the noise of +its shutting. And that noise, in her memory, seemed to have transformed +itself into the sound of fate's deep bell. She could hear the clang, sharp, +definite. She realized suddenly and with awe that her destiny was fixed +hereafter. She had come to the end of her adventures and her vague dreams. +For she had always dreamt vaguely of an enlarged liberty, of wide +interests, and of original activities--such as no woman to her knowledge +had ever had. She had always compared the life of men with the life of +women, and admitted and resented the inferiority of the latter. She had had +glimpses, once, of the male world; she had made herself the only woman +shorthand-writer in the Five Towns, and one of the earliest in +England--dizzy thought! But the glimpses had been vain and tantalizing. She +had been in the male world, but not of it, as though encircled in a glass +ball which neither she nor the males could shatter. She had had money, +freedom, and ambition, and somehow, through ignorance or through lack of +imagination or opportunity, had been unable to employ them. She had never +known what she wanted. The vision had never been clear. And she reflected: +"I wonder if my daughter, supposing I had one, would be as different from +me as I am from my mother!"</p> + +<p>She could recall with intense vividness the moment when she had first +really contemplated marriage. It was in the steam-tram after having seen +Edwin Clayhanger at the door of Clayhanger's shop. And she could recall the +sense of relief with which she had envisaged a union with some man stronger +and more experienced than herself. In the relief was a certain secret +shame, as though it implied cowardice, a shrinking away from the challenge +of life and from the call of a proud instinct. In the steam-tram she had +foreseen the time when she would belong utterly to some man, surrendering +to him without reserve, the time when she would be a woman. And the thing +had come about! Only yesterday she had been a little girl entering George +Cannon's office with timid audacity to consult him. Only yesterday George +Cannon had been a strange, formidable man, indefinitely older and +infinitely cleverer than she. And now they were man and wife! Now she was +his! Now she profoundly knew him, and he was no longer formidable, in spite +of his force. She had a recondite dominion over him. She guessed herself to +be his superior in certain qualities. He was revealed to her; she felt that +she was not revealed to him, and that in spite of her wholehearted +surrender she had not given all because of his blindness to what she +offered. She could not completely respect him. But she was his. She was +naught apart from him. She was the wife. His existence went on mainly as +before; hers was diverted, narrowed--fundamentally altered. Never now could +she be enfranchised into the male world!</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>She slipped her arms into a new bodice purchased in London on the second +day of the marriage. Blushing, she had tried on that bodice in a great shop +in Oxford Street; then it was that she had first said 'my husband' in +public. All that day she had felt so weak and shy and light and helpless +and guilty that she had positively not known what she was doing; she had +moved in a phantom world. Only, she had perceived quite steadily and +practically that she must give more attention to her clothes. Her old +contempt for finery expired in the glory of her new condition. And now, as +she settled the elegant bodice on her shoulders, and fastened it, and +patted her hair, and picked up the skirt and poised it over her head, she +had a stern, preoccupied look, as of one who said: "This that I am doing is +important. I must not be hurried in doing it. It is vital that I should +look well and that no detail of my appearance should jar." Already she +could see herself standing before George when he returned for the meal--the +first meal which they would take together in the home. She could feel his +eyes on her: she could anticipate her own mood--in which would be mingled +pride, misgiving, pleasure, helplessness, abandonment--and the secret +condescension towards him of her inmost soul.</p> + +<p>All alone in the room she could feel his hands again on her shoulders: a +mysterious excitation.... She was a married woman. She had the right to +discuss Florrie's case with aloof disdain, if she chose. Her respectability +was unassailable. None might penetrate beyond the fact of her marriage. And +yet, far within her, she was ashamed. She dimly admitted once more, as on +several occasions previous to her marriage, that she had dishonoured an +ideal. Her conscience would not chime with the conscience of society. She +thought, as she prepared with pleasurable expectancy for her husband: "This +is not right. This cannot lead to good. It must lead to evil. I am bound to +suffer for it. The whole thing is wrong. I know it and I have always known +it."</p> + +<p>Already she was disappointed with her marriage. Amid the fevers of +bodily appetite she could clearly distinguish the beginning of lassitude; +she no longer saw her husband as a romantic and baffling figure; she had +explored and chartered his soul, and not all his excellences could atone +for his earthliness. She wondered grimly where and under what circumstances +he had acquired the adroitness which had charmed and still did charm her. +She saw in front of her a vista of days and years in which ennui would +probably increase and joy diminish. And she put her shoulders back +defiantly, and thought: "Well, here I am anyhow! I wanted him and I've got +him. What I have to go through I shall go through!"</p> + +<p>And all the time, floating like vapour over these depths was a sheeny +mood of bright expectation and immediate naïve content. And she said +gaily that she must write at once to Janet Orgreave to announce the +marriage, and that her mother's uncle up in the north must also be +informed.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>Unusual phenomena made themselves apparent on the top staircase: raised +voices which Hilda could hear more and more plainly, even through the shut +door. At No. 59, in the off-seasons, nobody ever spoke in a loud tone, +particularly on the staircase, except perhaps Florrie when, in conversation +with Louisa, she thought she was out of all other hearing. Hilda's voice +was very clear and penetrating, but not loud. George Cannon's voice in +public places such as the staircase had an almost caressing softness. The +Watchetts cooed like faint doves, thereby expressing the delicate +refinement of their virginal natures. The cook's voice was unknown beyond +the kitchen. And nobody was more grimly self-controlled in speech than +Sarah Gailey and Louisa. These two--and especially Louisa--seemed generally +to be restraining with ease tremendous secret forces of bitterness and +contempt. And now it was just these two who were noisy, and becoming +noisier, to the dismay of a scandalized house. Owing to some accident or +negligence the secret forces had got loose.</p> + +<p>Hilda shook her head. It was clear that the problem of Sarah Gailey +would have to be tackled and settled very soon. The poor woman's physical +sufferings had without doubt reacted detrimentally on her temperament and +temper. She used to be quite extraordinarily adroit in the directing of +servants, though her manner to them never approached geniality. But she had +quarrelled with Florrie, and now she was breaking the peace with Louisa! It +was preposterous and annoying, and it could not be allowed to continue. +Hilda was not seriously alarmed, because she had the most perfect +confidence in George's skill to restore order and calm, and to conquer +every difficulty of management; and she also put a certain trust in +herself; but the menacing and vicious accents of Louisa startled her, and +she sympathized with Sarah Gailey, for whom humiliation was assuredly in +store--if not immediately at the tongue of Louisa, then later when George +would have to hint the truth to her about her decadence.</p> + +<p>The dispute on the attic landing appeared to be concerning linen which +Louisa had omitted to remove from Florrie's abandoned couch in her +kennel.</p> + +<p>"I ain't going to touch her sheets, not for nobody!" Louisa proclaimed +savagely. And by that single phrase, with its implications, she laid +unconsciously bare the sordid baseness of her ageing heart; she exposed by +her mere intonation of the word 'sheets' all the foulness of jealousy and +thwarted salacity that was usually concealed beneath her tight dress and +neat apron, and beneath her prim gestures and deferential tones. Her +undisciplined voice rang spinsterishly down the staircase, outraging it, +defiling the whole interior.</p> + +<p>Hilda as silently as possible unlatched the door of the bedroom, and +stood with ear cocked. Should she issue forth and interfere, or should she +remain discreetly where she was? Almost in the same instant she heard the +cautious unlatching of the drawing-room door; two of the Watchetts were +there listening also. And there came up from the ground floor a faint +giggle. The cook, at the kitchen door, was enjoying herself and giggling +moral support to her colleague. The giggle proved that the master was out, +that the young mistress had not yet established a definite position, and +that during recent weeks the old mistress must have been steadily +dissipating her own authority. Hilda peered along the landing from her +lair, and upstairs and downstairs; she could see nothing but senseless +carpets and brass rods and steps and banisters; but she knew that the +entire household--she had the sensation that the very house itself--was +alert and eavesdropping.</p> + +<p>There was a hesitating movement on the unseen stairs above, and then +Hilda could see Sarah Gailey's felt slippers and the valance of her skirt. +And she could hear Sarah's emotional breathing.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Louisa, I've done!" Sarah's voice was quieter now. She was +trying to control it, and to a limited extent was controlling its volume. +It shook in spite of her. She spoke true. She had indeed done. She was at +the end of her resources.</p> + +<p>"I've been in houses," Louisa conqueringly sneered, "that I have! But I +never been in a house afore where one as ought to have been scullery-girl +went off with a boarder, and nothing said, and him the friend of the +master! And it isn't as if that was all!... Sheets, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I've nothing further to say," Sarah returned unnecessarily, and +descended the stair. "I shall simply report to Mr. Cannon. We shall +see."</p> + +<p>"And what's this about <i>Mrs</i>. Cannon?" Louisa shouted, beside +herself.</p> + +<p>The peculiarity of her tone arrested Sarah Gailey. Hilda flushed. The +Watchetts were listening. The Watchetts had not yet been told of the +marriage. The announcement was to be made to them formally, a little later. +And now it was Louisa who was making the announcement, brutally, coarsely. +The outrage of the episode was a hundredfold intensified; it grew into an +inconceivable ghastly horror. Hilda's self-respect seemed to have a +physical body and Louisa to be hacking at it with a jagged knife.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Cannon has brought his wife home," said Sarah Gailey shortly, with +a dignity and courage that increased as her distance from the appalling, +the incredible Louisa. Hilda could see her pale face now. The eyebrows and +chin were lifted in scorn of the vile menial, but the poor head was +trembling.</p> + +<p>"And what about his other wife?"</p> + +<p>"Louisa!"--Sarah Gailey looked again up the stairs--"I know you're in a +temper and not responsible for what you say. But you'd better be careful." +She spoke with elaborate haughty negligence.</p> + +<p>"Had I?" Louisa shrilled. "What I say is, what about his other wife? +What about the old woman he married in Devonshire? Why, God bless me, +Florrie was full of it--couldn't talk about anything else in bed of a +night! Didn't you know the old woman'd been inquiring for her beautiful +'usband down your way?" She laughed loudly. "Turnhill--what's-its-name?... +And all of you lying low, and then making out all of a sudden as he's +brought his wife home! A nice house! And I've been in a few, too!"</p> + +<p>Hilda could feel her heart beating with terrific force against her +bodice, but she was conscious of no other sensation. She heard a loud snort +of shattering contempt from Louisa; and then a strange and terrific silence +fell on the stairs. There was no sound even of a movement. The Watchetts +did not stir; the cook did not stir; Sarah Gailey did not stir; Louisa's +fury was sated. The empty landing lay, as it were, expectant at Hilda's +door.</p> + +<p>Then Sarah Gailey perceived Hilda half hidden in the doorway, and +staggeringly rushed towards her. In an instant they were both in the +bedroom and the door shut.</p> + +<p>"When will George be back so that he can put her out of the house?" +Sarah whispered frantically.</p> + +<p>"Soon, I expect," said Hilda, and felt intensely self-conscious.</p> + +<p>They said no more. And it was as though the house were besieged and +invested, and only in that room were they safe, and even in that room only +for a few moments.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b5c2">CHAPTER II</a><br /> SOME SECRET HISTORY</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Without a word, Sarah had left the bedroom. Hilda waited, sitting on the +bed, for George to come back from his haunts in the town. She both +intensely desired and intensely feared his return. A phrase or two of an +angry and vicious servant had almost destroyed her faith in her husband. It +seemed very strange, even to her, that this should be so; and she wondered +whether she had ever had a real faith in him, whether--passion apart--her +feeling for him had ever been aught but admiration of his impressive +adroitness. Was it possible that he had another wife alive? No, it was not +possible! That is to say, it was not possible that such a catastrophe +should have happened to just her, to Hilda Lessways, sitting there on the +bed with her hands pressing on the rough surface of the damask counterpane. +And yet--how could Louisa or Florrie have invented the story?... Wicked, +shocking, incredible, that Florrie, with her soft voice and timid, +affectionate manner, should have been chattering in secret so scandalously +during all these weeks! She remembered the look on Florrie's blushing face +when the child had received the letter on the morning of their departure +from the house in Lessways Street. Even then the attractively innocent and +capable Florrie must have had her naughty secrets!... An odious world. And +Hilda, married, had seriously thought that she knew all about the world! +She had to admit, bewildered: "I'm only a girl after all, and a very simple +one." She compared her own heart in its simplicity with that of Louisa. +Louisa horrified and frightened her.... Louisa and Florrie were mischievous +liars. Florrie had seized some fragment of silly gossip--Turnhill was +notorious for its silly gossip--and the two of them had embroidered it in +the nastiness of their souls. She laughed shortly, disdainfully, to wither +up silly gossip.... Preposterous!</p> + +<p>And yet--when George had shown her the licence, in the name of Cannon, +and she had ventured to say apologetically and caressingly: "I always +understood your real name was Canonges,"--how queerly he had looked as he +answered: "I changed it long ago--legally!" Yes, and she had persuaded +herself that the queerness of his look was only in her fancy! But it was +not only in her fancy. Suspicions, sinister trifling souvenirs, crowded +into her mind. Had she not always doubted him? Had she not always said to +herself that she was doing wrong in her marriage and that she would thereby +suffer? Had she not abandoned the pursuit of religious truth in favour of +light enjoyments?... Foolish of course, old-fashioned of course, to put two +and two together in this way! But she could not refrain.</p> + +<p>"I am ruined!" she decided, in awe.</p> + +<p>And the next instant she was saying: "How absurd of me to be like this, +merely because Louisa..."</p> + +<p>She thought she heard a noise below. Her heart leapt again into violent +activity. Trembling, she crept to the door, and gently unlatched it. No +slightest sound in the whole house! Dusk was coming on swiftly. Then she +could hear all the noises, accentuated beyond custom, of Louisa setting tea +in the dining-room for the Watchetts, and then the tea-bell rang. Despite +her fury, apparent in the noises, Louisa had not found courage to neglect +the sacred boarders. She made a defiant fuss, but she had to yield, +intimidated, to the force of habit and tradition. The Watchetts descended +the staircase from the drawing-room, practising as usual elaborate +small-talk among themselves. They had heard every infamous word of Louisa's +tirade; which had engendered in them a truly dreadful and still delicious +emotion; but they descended the staircase in good order, discussing the +project for a new pier.... They reached the dining-room and shut the door +on themselves.</p> + +<p>Silence again! Louisa ought now to have set the tea in the basement +parlour. But Louisa did not. Louisa was hidden in the kitchen, doubtless +talking fourteen to the dozen with the cook. She had done all she meant to +do. She knew that she would be compelled to leave at once, and not another +stroke would she do of any kind! The master and the mistresses must manage +as best they could. Louisa was already wondering where she would sleep that +night, for she was alone on earth and owned one small trunk and a Post +Office Savings Bank book.... All this trouble on account of Florrie's +sheets!</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey was in her bedroom, and did not dare to came out of it even +to accuse Louisa of neglecting the basement tea. And Hilda continued to +stand for ages at the bedroom door, while the dusk grew deeper and deeper. +At last the front door opened, and George's step was in the hall. Hilda +recognized it with a thrill of terror, turning pale. George ran down into +the basement and stumbled. "Hello!" she heard him call out, "what about +tea? Where are you all? Sarah!" No answer, no sound in response! He ran up +the basement steps. Would he call in at the dining-room, or would he come +to the bedroom in search of her? He did not stop at the dining-room. Hilda +wanted to shut the bedroom door, but dared not because she could not do it +noiselessly. Now he was on the first floor! She rushed to the bed, and sat +on it, as she had been sitting previously, and waited in the most painful +and irrational agony. She was astonished at the darkness of the room. +Turning her head, she saw only a whitish blur instead of a face in the +dressing-table mirror.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>"What's up?" he demanded, bursting somewhat urgently into the bedroom +with his hat on. "What price the husband coming home to his tea? No tea! No +light! I nearly broke my neck down the basement stairs."</p> + +<p>He put his hands against her elbows and kissed her, rather clumsily, +owing to the gloom, between her nose and her mouth. She did not shrink +back, but accepted the embrace quite insensibly. The contact of his +moustache and of his lips, and his slight, pleasant masculine odour, +produced no effect on her whatever.</p> + +<p>"Why are you sitting here? Look here, I've signed the transfer of those +Continental shares, and paid the cheque! So it's domino, now!"</p> + +<p>Between the engagement and the marriage there had been an opportunity of +purchasing three thousand pounds' worth of preference shares in the +Brighton Hotel Continental Limited, which hotel was the latest and largest +in the King's Road, a vast affair of eight storeys and bathrooms on every +floor. The chance of such an investment had fascinated George. It helped +his dreams and pointed to the time when he would be manager and part +proprietor of a palace like the Continental. Hilda being very willing, he +had sold her railways shares and purchased the hotel shares, and he knew +that he had done a good thing. Now he possessed an interest in three +different establishments, he who had scarcely been in Brighton a year. The +rapid progress, he felt, was characteristic of him.</p> + +<p>Hilda kept silence, for the sole reason that she could think of no words +to say. As for the matter of the investment, it appeared to her to be +inexpressibly uninteresting. From under the lashes of lowered eyes she saw +his form shadowily in front of her.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say Sarah's been making herself disagreeable +already!" he said. And his tone was affectionate and diplomatic, yet +faintly ironical. He had perceived that something unusual had occurred, +perhaps something serious, and he was anxious to soothe and to justify his +wife. Hilda perfectly understood his mood and intention, and she was +reassured.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't Sarah told you?" she asked in a harsh, uncontrolled voice, +though she knew that he had not seen Sarah.</p> + +<p>"No; where is she?" he inquired patiently.</p> + +<p>"It's Louisa," Hilda went on, with the sick fright of a child compelled +by intimidation to affront a danger. Her mouth was very dry.</p> + +<p>"Oh!"</p> + +<p>"She lost her temper and made a fearful scene with Sarah, on the stairs; +she said the most awful things."</p> + +<p>George laughed low, and lightly. He guessed Louisa's gift for foul +insolence and invective.</p> + +<p>"For instance?" George encouraged. He was divining from Hilda's singular +tone that tact would be needed.</p> + +<p>"Well, she said you'd got a wife living in Devonshire."</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p>"And who'd told her that?"</p> + +<p>"Florrie."</p> + +<p>"<i>In</i>deed!" muttered George. Hilda could not decide whether his +voice was natural or forced.</p> + +<p>Then he stepped across to the door, and opened it.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do to her?" Hilda questioned, as it were +despairingly.</p> + +<p>He left the room and banged the door.</p> + +<p>"It's not true," Hilda was beginning to say to herself, but she seemed +to derive no pleasure from the dawning hope of George's innocence.</p> + +<p>Then George came into the room again, hesitated, and shut the door +carefully.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's no good shilly-shallying about," he said, in such a tone +as he might have used had he been vexed and disgusted with Hilda. "I have +got a wife living, and she's in Devonshire! I expect she's been inquiring +in Turnhill if I'm still in the land of the living. Probably wants to get +married again herself."</p> + +<p>Hilda glanced at his form, and suddenly it was the form of a stranger, +but a stranger who had loved her. And she thought: "Why did I let this +stranger love me?" It was scarce believable that she had ever seriously +regarded him as a husband. And she found that tears were running down her +cheeks; and she felt all her girlishness and fragility. "Didn't I always +know," she asked herself with weak resignation, "that it was unreal? What +am I to do now?" The catastrophe had indeed happened to her, and she could +not deal with it! She did not even feel tragic. She did not feel +particularly resentful against George. She had read of such catastrophes in +the newspapers, but the reality of experience nonplussed her. "I ought to +do something," she reflected. "But what?"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of me saying I'm sorry?" he asked savagely. "I acted for +the best. The chances were ten thousand to one against me being spotted. +But there you are! You never know your luck." He spoke meditatively, in a +rather hoarse, indistinct voice. "All owing to Florrie, of course! When it +was suggested we should have that girl, I knew there was a danger. But I +pooh-poohed it! I said nothing could possibly happen.... And just look at +it now!... I wanted to cut myself clear of the Five Towns, +absolutely--absolutely! And then like a damnation fool I let Florrie come +here! If she hadn't come, that woman might have inquired about me in +Turnhill till all was blue, without you hearing about her! But there it +is!" He snapped his fingers. "It's my fault for being found out! That's the +only thing I'm guilty of.... And look at it! Look at it!"</p> + +<p>Hilda could tell from the movements of the vague form in the corner by +the door, and by the quality of his voice, that George Cannon was in a +state of extreme emotion. She had never known him half so moved. His +emotion excited her and flattered her. She thought how wonderful it was +that she, the shaking little girl who yesterday had run off with fourpence +to buy a meal at a tripe-shop, should be the cause of this emotion in such +a man. She thought: "My life is marvellous." She was dizzied by the +conception of the capacity of her own body and soul for experience. No +factors save her own body and soul and his had been necessary to the +bringing about of the situation. It was essential only that the man and the +woman should be together, and their companionship would produce miracles of +experience! She ceased crying. Astounding that she had never, in George's +eyes, suspected his past! It was as if he had swiftly opened a concealed +door in the house of their passion and disclosed a vista of which she had +not dreamed.</p> + +<p>"But surely that must have been a long time ago!" she said in an +ordinary tone.</p> + +<p>"Considering that I was twenty-two--yes!"</p> + +<p>"Why did you leave her?"</p> + +<p>"Why did I leave her? Because I had to! I'd gone as a clerk in a +solicitor's office in Torquay, and she was a client. She went mad about me. +I'm only telling you. She was a spinster. Had one of those big houses high +up on the hill behind the town!" He stopped; and then his voice began to +come again out of the deep shadow in the corner. "She wanted me, and she +got me. And she didn't care who knew! The wedding was in the <i>Torquay +Directory</i>. I told her I'd got no relations, and she was jolly +glad."</p> + +<p>"But how old was she? Young?"</p> + +<p>George sneered. "She'd never see thirty-six again, the day she was +married. Good-looking. Well-dressed. Very stylish and all that! Carried me +off my feet. Of course there was the money.... I may as well out with it +all while I'm about it! She made me an absolute present of four thousand +pounds. Insisted on doing it. I never asked. Of course I know I married for +money. It happens to youths sometimes just as it does to girls. It may be +disgusting, but not more disgusting for one than for the other. Besides, I +didn't realize it was a sale and purchase, at the time!... Oh! And it +lasted about ten days. I couldn't stand it, so I told her so and chucked +it. She began an action for restitution of conjugal rights, but she soon +tired of that. She wouldn't have her four thousand back. Simply wouldn't! +She was a terror, but I'll say that for her. Well, I kept it. Four thousand +pounds is a lot of brass. That's how I started business in Turnhill, if you +want to know!" He spoke defiantly. "You may depend I never let on in the +Five Towns about my beautiful marriage.... That's the tale. You've got to +remember I was twenty-two!"</p> + +<p>She thought of Edwin Clayhanger and Charlie Orgreave as being about +twenty-two, and tried in her imagination to endow the mature George Cannon +with their youth and their simplicity and their freshness. She was saddened +and overawed; not wrathful, not obsessed by a sense of injury.</p> + +<p>Then she heard a sob in the corner, and then another. The moment was +terrible for her. She could only distinguish in the room the blur of a +man's shape against the light-coloured wall-paper, and the whiteness of the +counterpane, and the dark square of the window broken by the black +silhouette of the mirror. She slipped off the bed, and going in the +direction of the dressing-table groped for a match-box and lit the gas. +Dazzled by the glare of the gas, she turned to look at the corner where +stood George Cannon.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>The whole aspect of the room was now altered. The window was blacker +than anything else; light shone on the carved frame of the mirror and on +the vessels of the washstand; the trunks each threw a sharply defined +shadow; the bed was half in the shadow of its mahogany foot, and half a +glittering white; all the array of requisites on the dressing-table lay +stark under the close scrutiny of the gas; and high above the bed, partly +on the wall and partly on the ceiling, was a bright oblong reflection from +the upturned mirror.</p> + +<p>Hilda turned to George with a straightening of the shoulders, as if to +say: "It is I who have the courage to light the gas and face the +situation!" But when she saw him her challenging pride seemed to die slowly +away. Though there was no sign of a tear on his features, and though it was +difficult to believe that it was he who had just sobbed, nevertheless, his +figure was dismayingly tragic. Every feature was distorted by agitation. He +was absorbed in himself, shameless and careless of appearances. He was no +more concerned about appearances and manly shame than a sufferer dying in +torment. He was beyond all that--in truth a new George Cannon! He left the +corner, and sat down on the bed in the hollow made by Hilda, and stared at +the wall, his hands in the pockets of his gay suit. His gestures as he +moved, and his posture as he sat, made their unconscious appeal to her in +their abandonment. He was caught; he was vanquished; he was despairing; but +he instinctively, and without any wish to do so, kept his dignity. He was +still, in his complete overthrow, the mature man of the world, the man to +whom it was impossible to be ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Hilda in a curious way grew proud of him. With an extraordinary +inconsequence she dwelt upon the fact that, always grand--even as a +caterer, he had caused to be printed at the foot of the menu forms which he +had instituted, the words: "A second helping of all or any of the above +dishes will willingly be served if so desired." And in the general havoc of +the shock she began to be proud also of herself, because it was the +mysterious power of her individuality that had originated the disaster. The +sense of their intimate withdrawn seclusion in the room, disordered and +littered by arrival, utterly alone save for the living flame of the gas, +the sense of the tragedy, and of the responsibility for it, and especially +her responsibility, the sense of an imposed burden to be grimly borne and +of an unknown destiny to be worked out, the sense of pity, the sense of +youth and force,--these things gradually exalted her and ennobled her +desolation.</p> + +<p>"Why did you keep it from me?" she asked in a very clear and precise +tone, not aggrieved, but fatalistic and melancholy.</p> + +<p>"Keep what from you?" At length he met her eyes, darkly.</p> + +<p>"All this about your being married."</p> + +<p>"Why did I keep it from you?" he repeated harshly, and then his tone +changed from defiance to a softened regret: "I'll tell you why I kept it +from you! Because I knew if I told you I should have no chance with a girl +like you. I knew it'd be all up--if I so much as breathed a hint of it! I +don't suppose you've the slightest idea how stand-offish you are!"</p> + +<p>"Me stand-offish!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"Look here!" he said persuasively. "Supposing I'd told you I wanted you, +and then that I'd got a wife living--what would you have said?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"No! But <i>I</i> know! And suppose I'd told you I'd got a wife living +and then told you I wanted you--what then? No, Hilda! Nobody could fool +about with you!"</p> + +<p>She was flattered, but she thought secretly: "He could have won me on +any terms he liked!... I wonder whether he <i>could</i> have won me on any +terms!... That first night in this house, when we were in the front +attic--suppose he'd told me then--I wonder! What should I have said?" But +the severity of her countenance was a perfect mask for such weak and +uncertain ideas, and confirmed him deeply in his estimate of her.</p> + +<p>He continued:</p> + +<p>"Now that first night in this house, upstairs!" He jerked his head +towards the ceiling. She blushed, not from any shame, but because his +thought had surprised hers. "I was as near as dammit to letting out the +whole thing and chancing it with you. But I didn't--I saw it'd be no use. +And that's not the only time either!"</p> + +<p>She stood silent by the dressing-table, calmly looking at him, and she +asked herself, eagerly curious: "When were the other times?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it's all my fault!" he said.</p> + +<p>"What is?"</p> + +<p>"This!... All my fault! I don't want to excuse myself. I've nothing to +say for myself."</p> + +<p>In her mind she secretly interrupted him: "Yes, you have. You couldn't +do without me--isn't that enough?"</p> + +<p>"I'm ashamed!" he said, without reserve, abasing himself. "I'm utterly +ashamed. I'd give anything to be able to undo it."</p> + +<p>She was startled and offended. She had not expected that he would kiss +the dust. She hated to see him thus. She thought: "It isn't all your fault. +It's just as much mine as yours. But even if I was ashamed I'd never +confess it. Never would I grovel! And never would I want to undo anything! +After all you took the chances. You did what you thought best. Why be +ashamed when things go wrong? You wouldn't have been ashamed if things had +gone right."</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said, after a pause, "I'm completely done for!"</p> + +<p>He spoke so solemnly, and with such intense conviction, that she was +awed and appalled. She felt as one who, having alone escaped destruction in +an earthquake, stands afar off and contemplates the silent, corpse-strewn +ruin of a vast city.</p> + +<p>And the thought ran through her mind like a squirrel through a tree: +"How <i>could</i> he refuse her four thousand pounds? And if she wouldn't +have it back,--well, what was he to do? She must be a horrible woman!"</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>Both of them heard a heavy step pass up the staircase. It was Louisa's; +she paused to strike a match and light the gas on the landing; and went on. +But Sarah Gailey had given no sign, and the Watchetts were still shut in +the dining-room. All these middle-aged women were preoccupied by the affair +of George Cannon. All of them guessed now that Louisa's charge was not +unfounded--otherwise, why the mysterious and interminable interview between +George Cannon and Hilda in the bedroom? Hilda pictured them all. And she +thought: "But it is <i>I</i> who am in the bedroom with him! It is I who am +living through it and facing it out! They are all far older than me, but +they are outsiders. They don't know what life is!"</p> + +<p>George rose, picked up a portmanteau, and threw it open on the bed.</p> + +<p>"And what is to be done?" Hilda asked, trembling.</p> + +<p>He turned and looked at her.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I mustn't stay here?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head, with lips pressed tight.</p> + +<p>His voice was thick and obscure when he asked: "You won't come with +me?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head again. She could not have spoken. She was in acute +torture.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I suppose I can count on you not to give me up to the +police?"</p> + +<p>"The police?" she exclaimed. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know,--it's a three years' job--at least. Ever heard the word +'bigamy'?" His voice was slightly ironical.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" she breathed, already disconcerted. It had positively not +occurred to her to consider the legal aspect of George's conduct.</p> + +<p>"But what can you do?" she asked, with the innocent, ignorant +helplessness of a girl.</p> + +<p>"I can disappear," he replied. "That's all I can do! I don't see myself +in prison. I went over Stafford Prison once. The Governor showed several of +us over. And I don't see myself in prison."</p> + +<p>He began to cast things into the portmanteau, and as he did so he +proceeded, without a single glance at Hilda:</p> + +<p>"You'll be all right for money and so on. But I should advise you to +leave here and not to come back any sooner than you can help. That's the +best thing you can do. And be Hilda Lessways again!... Sarah will have to +manage this place as best she can. Fortunately, her health's improved. She +can make it pay very well if she likes. It's a handsome living for her. My +deposit on the Chichester and so on will have to be forfeited."</p> + +<p>"And you?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>His back was towards her. He turned his head, looked at her +enigmatically for an instant, and resumed his packing.</p> + +<p>She desired to help him with the packing, she desired to show him some +tenderness; her heart was cleft in two with pity; but she could not move; +some harshness of pride or vanity prevented her from moving.</p> + +<p>When he had carelessly finished the portmanteau, he strode to the door, +opened it wide, and called out in a loud, firm voice:</p> + +<p>"Louisa!"</p> + +<p>A reply came weakly from the top floor:</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"I want you." He had a short way with Louisa.</p> + +<p>After a brief delay, she came to the bedroom door.</p> + +<p>"Run down to the King's Road and get me a cab," he said to her at the +door, as it were confidentially.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir." The woman was like a Christian slave.</p> + +<p>"Here! Take the portmanteau down with you to the front door." He gave +her the portmanteau.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>She disappeared; and then there was the noise of the front door +opening.</p> + +<p>George picked up his hat and abruptly left the room. Hilda moved to and +fro nervously, stiff with having stood still so long. She wondered how he, +and how she, would comport themselves in the ordeal of adieu. In a few +moments a cab drove up--Louisa had probably encountered it on the way. +Hilda waited, tense. Then she heard the cab driving off again. She rushed +aghast to the window. She saw the roof of the disappearing cab, and the +unwieldy portmanteau on it.... He had gone! He had gone without saying +good-bye! That was his device for simplifying the situation. It was +drastic, but it was magnificent. He had gone out of the house and out of +her life. As she gazed at the dim swaying roof of the cab, magically the +roof was taken off, and she could see the ravaged and stricken figure +within, sitting grimly in the dark between the wheels that rolled him away +from her. The vision was intolerable. She moved aside and wept +passionately. How could he help doing all he had done? She had possessed +him--the memories of his embrace told her how utterly! All that he had said +was true; and this being so, who could blame his conduct? He had only +risked and lost.</p> + +<p>Sarah Gailey suddenly appeared in the room, and shut the door like a +conspirator.</p> + +<p>"Then--" she began, terror-struck.</p> + +<p>And Hilda nodded, ceasing to cry.</p> + +<p>"Oh! My poor dear!" Sarah Gailey moaned feebly, her head bobbing with +its unconscious nervous movements. The sight of her worn, saddened features +sharpened Hilda's appreciation of her own girlishness and inexperience.</p> + +<p>But despite the shock, despite her extreme misery, despite the anguish +and fear in her heart and the immense difficulty of the new situation into +which she was thus violently thrust, Hilda was not without consolation. She +felt none of the shame conventionally proper to a girl deceived. On the +contrary, deep within herself, she knew that the catastrophe was a +deliverance. She knew that fate had favoured her by absolving her from the +consequences of a tragic weakness and error. These thoughts inflamed and +rendered more beautiful the apprehensive pity for the real victim--now +affronted by a new danger, the menace of the law.</p> + +<hr /> + + + + +<h1><a name="b6">BOOK VI</a><br /> HER PUNISHMENT</h1> + + + + +<h2><a name="b6c1">CHAPTER I</a><br /> EVENING AT BLEAKRIDGE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>When Hilda's cab turned, perilously swaying, through the gate into the +dark garden of the Orgreaves, Hilda saw another cab already at the open +house door, and in the lighted porch stood figures distinguishable as Janet +and Alicia, all enwrapped for a journey, and Martha holding more wraps. The +long façade of the house was black, save for one window on the first +floor, which threw a faint radiance on the leafless branches of elms, and +thus intensified the upper mysteries of the nocturnal garden. The arrival +of the second cab caused excitement in the porch; and Hilda, leaning out of +the window into the November mist, shook with apprehension, as her vehicle +came to a halt behind the other one. She was now to meet friends for the +first time after her secret and unhappy adventure. She feared that Janet, +by some magic insight of affection, would read at once in her face the +whole history of the past year.</p> + +<p>Janet had written to her, giving and asking for news, and urging a +visit, on the very day after the scene in which George Cannon admitted his +turpitude. Had the letter been sent a day or two sooner, reaching Hilda on +her honeymoon, she would certainly have replied to it with the tremendous +news of her marriage, and, her marriage, having been made public in the +Five Towns, her shame also would necessarily be public. But chance had +saved her from this humiliation. Nobody in the district was aware of the +marriage. By a characteristic instinct, she had been determined not to +announce it in any way until the honeymoon was over. In answer to Janet, +she had written very briefly, as was usual with her, and said that she +would come to Lane End House as soon as she could. "Shall I tell her, or +shan't I?" she had cogitated, and the decision had been for postponement. +But she strongly desired, nevertheless, to pay the visit. She had had more +than enough of Preston Street and of Brighton, and longed to leave at any +price.</p> + +<p>And, at length, one dull morning, after George Cannon had sailed for +America, and all affairs were somehow arranged or had arranged themselves, +and Sarah Gailey was better and the autumn season smoothly running with new +servants, she had suddenly said to Sarah: "I have to go to Bursley to-day, +for a few days." And she had gone, upon the impulse, without having +previously warned Janet. Changing at Knype, she had got into the wrong +train, and had found herself at Shawport, at the far, lower end of Bursley, +instead of up at Bleakridge, close by the Orgreaves! And there was, of +course, no cab for her. But a cabman who had brought a fare to the station, +and was driving his young woman back, had offered in a friendly way to take +Hilda too. And she had sat in the cab with the young woman, who was a +paintress at Peel's great manufactory at Shawport, and suffered from a weak +chest; and they had talked about the potters' strike which was then +upheaving the district, and the cab had overtaken a procession of thinly +clad potters, wending in the bitter mist to a mass meeting at Hanbridge; +and Hilda had been thereby much impressed and angered against all +employers. And the young woman had left the cab, half-way up Trafalgar +Road, with a delicious pink-and-white smile of adieu. And Hilda had thought +how different all this was from Brighton, and how much better and more +homely and understandable. And now she was in the garden of the +Orgreaves.</p> + +<p>Martha came peeping, to discover the explanation of this singular +concourse of cabs in the garden, and she cried joyously:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Janet, it's Miss Hilda--Miss Lessways, I mean!"</p> + +<p>Alicia shrieked. The first cab drew forward to make room for Hilda's, +and Hilda stepped down into the glare of the porch, and was plainly beheld +by all three girls.</p> + +<p>"Will they notice anything?" she asked herself, self-conscious, almost +trembling, as she thought of the terrific changes that had passed in her +since her previous visit.</p> + +<p>But nobody noticed anything. Nobody observed that this was not the same +Hilda. Even in the intimacy of the affectionate kiss, for which she lifted +her veil, Janet seemed to have no suspicion whatever.</p> + +<p>"We were just off to Hillport," said Janet. "How splendid of you to come +like this!"</p> + +<p>"Don't let's go to Hillport!" said Alicia.</p> + +<p>Janet hesitated, pulling down her veil.</p> + +<p>"Of course you must go!" Hilda said positively.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid we shall have to go," said Janet, with reluctance. "You see, +it's the Marrions--Edie's cousins--and Edie will be there!"</p> + +<p>"Who's Edie?"</p> + +<p>"Why! Tom's fiancée! Surely I told you!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Hilda; "only I didn't just remember the name. How nice!"</p> + +<p>(She thought: "No sooner do I get here than I talk like they do! Fancy +me saying, 'How nice'!")</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's all Edie nowadays!" said Alicia lightly. "We have to be +frightfully particular, or else Tom would cut our heads off. That's why +we're going in a cab! We should have walked,--shouldn't we, Janet?--only it +would never do for us to <i>walk</i> to the Marrions' at night! 'The Misses +Lessways' carriage!'" she mimicked, and finicked about on her toes.</p> + +<p>Janet was precisely the same as ever, but the pig-tailed Alicia had +developed. Her childishness was now shot through with gestures and tones of +the young girl. She flushed and paled continuously, and was acutely +self-conscious and somewhat vain, but not offensively vain.</p> + +<p>"I say, Jan," she exclaimed, "why shouldn't Hilda come with us?"</p> + +<p>"To the Marrions'? Oh no, thanks!" said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"But do, Hilda! I'm sure they'd be delighted!" Janet urged. "I never +thought of it."</p> + +<p>Though she was flattered and, indeed, a little startled by the +extraordinary seriousness of Janet's insistence, Hilda shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Where's Tom?" she inquired, to change the subject.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Alicia burst out again. "He's gone off <i>hours</i> ago to escort +his ladylove from Hanbridge to Hillport."</p> + +<p>"You wait till you're engaged, Alicia!" Janet suggested. But Janet's +eyes, too, twinkled the admission that Tom was just then providing much +innocent amusement to the family.</p> + +<p>"You'll sleep in my room to-night, anyhow, dear," said Janet, when +Martha and Hilda's cabman had brought a trunk into the hall, and Hilda had +paid the cabman far more than his fare because he was such a friendly young +cabman and because he possessed a pulmonary sweetheart. "Come along, +dear!... Alicia, ask Swindells to wait a minute or two."</p> + +<p>"Swindells," Alicia shouted to the original cabman, "just wait a +jiff!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss." The original cabman, being old and accustomed to +evening-party work in the Five Towns, knew the length of a jiff, and got +down from his seat to exercise both arms and legs. With sardonic pleasure +he watched the young cabman cut a black streak in the sodden lawn with his +near front-wheel as he clumsily turned to leave. Then Martha banged the +front door, and another servant appeared in the hall to help the trunk on +its way upstairs.</p> + +<p>"No! I shall never be able to tell them!" thought Hilda, following the +trunk.</p> + +<p>Alicia had scampered on in front of the trunk, to inform her parents of +the arrival. Mrs. Orgreave, Hilda learnt, was laid up with an attack of +asthma, and Osmond Orgreave was working in their bedroom.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Hilda stood in front of the fire in Janet's bedroom, and Janet was +unlocking her trunk.</p> + +<p>"Why! What a pretty bodice!" said Janet, opening the trunk. She stood +up, and held forth the bodice to inspect it; and beneath Janet's cloak +Hilda could see the splendour of her evening dress. "Where did you get +it?"</p> + +<p>"In London," Hilda was about to answer, but she took thought. "Oh! +Brighton." It was a lie.</p> + +<p>She had a longing to say:</p> + +<p>"No, not Brighton! What am I thinking of? I got it in London on my +honeymoon!"</p> + +<p>What a unique sensation that one word would have caused! But she could +not find courage to utter it.</p> + +<p>Alicia came importantly in.</p> + +<p>"Mother's love, and you are to go into her room as soon as you're ready. +Martha will bring up a tray for you, and you'll eat there by the fire. It's +all arranged."</p> + +<p>"And what about father's love?" Hilda demanded, with a sprightliness +that astonished herself. And she thought: "Why are these people so fond of +me? They don't even ask how it was I didn't write to tell them I was +coming. They just accept me and welcome me without questions.... No! I can +never tell them! It simply couldn't be told, here! If they find out, so +much the worse!"</p> + +<p>"You must ask him!" Alicia answered, blushing.</p> + +<p>"All right, Alicia. We'll be ready in a minute or two," said Janet in a +peculiar voice.</p> + +<p>It was a gentle command to Alicia to leave her elders alone to their +adult confidences. And unwilling Alicia had to obey.</p> + +<p>But there were no confidences. The talk, as it were, shivered on the +brink of a confidence, but never plunged.</p> + +<p>"Does she guess?" Hilda reflected.</p> + +<p>The conversation so halted that at length Janet was driven to the +banality of saying:</p> + +<p>"I'm so sorry we have to go out!"</p> + +<p>And Hilda protested with equal banality, and added: "I suppose you're +going out a lot just now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no!" said Janet. "We go out less and less, and we get quieter and +quieter. I mean <i>us</i>. The boys are always out, you know." She seemed +saddened. "I did think Edwin Clayhanger would come in sometimes, now +they're living next door--"</p> + +<p>"They're in their new house, then!" said Hilda, with casualness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, long ago! And I'm sure it's ages since he was here. I like +Maggie--his sister."</p> + +<p>Hilda knelt to her trunk.</p> + +<p>"Did he ever inquire after me?" she demanded, with an air of archness, +but hiding her face.</p> + +<p>"As a matter of fact he <i>did</i>--once," said Janet, imitating Hilda's +manner.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's something," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>There was a sharp knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"Hot water, miss!" cried the voice of Martha.</p> + +<p>The next instant Martha was arranging the ewer and the can and some +clean towels on the washstand. Her face was full of joy in the unexpected +arrival. She was as excited as if Hilda had been her own friend instead of +Janet's.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear, shall you be all right now?" said Janet. "Perhaps I ought +to be going. You may depend on it I shall get back as early as ever I +can."</p> + +<p>The two girls kissed, with even more freedom than in the hall. It seemed +astonishing to Hilda, as her face was close to Janet's, that Janet did not +exclaim: "Something has happened to you. What is it? You are not as you +used to be! You are not like me!" She felt herself an imposter.</p> + +<p>"Why should I tell?" Hilda reflected. "What end will it serve? It's +nobody's business but mine. <i>He</i> is gone. He'll never come back. +Everything's over.... And if it does get about, well, they'll only praise +me for my discretion. They can't do anything else."</p> + +<p>Still, she longed timorously to confide in Janet. And when Janet had +departed she breathed relief because the danger of confiding in Janet was +withdrawn for the moment.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Later, as the invalid had ordained, Hilda, having eaten, sat by the fire +in the large, quiet bedroom of Mr. and Mrs. Orgreave. The latter was +enjoying a period of ease, and lay, with head raised very high on pillows, +in her own half of the broad bed. The quilt extended over her without a +crease in its expanse; the sheet was turned down with precision, making a +level white border to the quilt; and Mrs. Orgreave did not stir; not one of +her grey locks stirred; she spoke occasionally in a low voice. On the +night-table stood a Godfrey's Chloride of Ammonia Inhaler, with its glass +cylinder and triple arrangement of tubes. There was only this, and the dark +lips and pale cheeks of the patient, to remind the beholder that not long +since the bed had been a scene of agony. Mr. Orgreave, in bright carpet +slippers, and elegant wristbands blossoming out of the sleeves of his black +house-jacket, stood bending above a huge board that was laid horizontally +on trestles to the left of the fireplace. This board was covered by a wide +length of bluish transparent paper which at intervals he pulled towards +him, making billows of paper at his feet and gradually lessening a roll of +it that lay on the floor beyond the table. A specially arranged gas-bracket +with a green shade which threw a powerful light on the paper showed that +Osmond Orgreave's habit was to work in that spot of an evening.</p> + +<p>"Astonishing I have to do this myself, isn't it?" he observed, stooping +to roll up the accumulated length of paper about his feet.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Hilda asked.</p> + +<p>"It's a full-sized detail drawing. Simple!... But do you suppose I could +trust either of my ingenious sons to get the curves of the mouldings +right?"</p> + +<p>"You'll never be able to trust them unless you begin to trust them," +said Mrs. Orgreave sagely from the bed.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" ejaculated Osmond Orgreave satirically. This remark was one of his +most effective counters to argument.</p> + +<p>"The fact is he thoroughly enjoys it, doesn't he, Mrs. Orgreave?" said +Hilda.</p> + +<p>"You're quite right, my dear," said Mrs. Orgreave.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" from Mr. Orgreave.</p> + +<p>He sketched with a pencil and rubbed out, vigorously. Then his eye +caught Hilda's, and they both smiled, very content. "They'd look nice if I +took to drink instead of to work, for a change!" he murmured, pausing to +caress his handsome hair.</p> + +<p>There was a sharp knock at the door, and into this room also the +watchful Martha entered.</p> + +<p>"Here's the <i>Signal</i>, sir. The boy's only just brought it."</p> + +<p>"Give it to Miss Hilda," said Mr. Orgreave, without glancing up.</p> + +<p>"Shall I take the tray away, 'm?" Martha inquired, looking towards the +bed, the supreme centre of domestic order and authority.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps Miss Hilda hasn't finished?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I have, thanks."</p> + +<p>Martha rearranged the vessels and cutlery upon the tray, with quick, +expert movements of the wrists. Her gaze was carefully fixed on the tray. +Endowed though she was with rare privileges, as a faithful retainer, she +would have been shocked and shamed had her gaze, improperly wandering, +encountered the gaze of the master or the guest. Then she picked up the +tray, and, pushing the small table into its accustomed place with a deft +twist of the foot, she sailed erect and prim out of the room, and the door +primly clicked on her neat-girded waist and flying white ribbons.</p> + +<p>"And what am I to do with this <i>Signal</i>" Hilda asked, fingering the +white, damp paper.</p> + +<p>"I should like you to read us about the strike," said Mrs. Orgreave. +"It's a dreadful thing."</p> + +<p>"I should thing it was!" Hilda agreed fervently. "Oh! Do you know, on +the way from Shawport, I saw a procession of the men, and anything more +terrible--"</p> + +<p>"It's the children I think of!" said Mrs. Orgreave softly.</p> + +<p>"Pity the men don't!" Mr. Orgreave murmured, without raising his +head.</p> + +<p>"Don't what?" Hilda asked defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Think of the children."</p> + +<p>Bridling, but silent, Hilda opened the sheet, and searched round and +about its columns with the embarrassed bewilderment of one unaccustomed to +the perusal of newspapers.</p> + +<p>"Look on page three--first column," said Mr. Orgreave.</p> + +<p>"That's all about racing," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, dear!" from the bed.</p> + +<p>"Well, second column."</p> + +<p>"The Potters' Strike. The men's leaders," she read the headlines. "There +isn't much of it."</p> + +<p>"How beautifully clearly you read!" said Mrs. Orgreave, with mild +enthusiasm, when Hilda had read the meagre half-column.</p> + +<p>"Do I?" Hilda flushed.</p> + +<p>"Is that all there is about it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. They don't seem to think it's very important that half the people +are starving!" Hilda sneered.</p> + +<p>"Whose fault is it if they do starve?" Osmond Orgreave glanced at her +with lowered head.</p> + +<p>"I think it's a shame!" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that the men broke the last award, not so very long since?" +said Osmond Orgreave. "What can you do with such people?"</p> + +<p>"Broke the last award?" She was checked.</p> + +<p>"Broke the last award! Wouldn't stick by their own agreement, their own +words. I'll just tell you. A wise young woman like you oughtn't to be +carried away by the sight of a procession on a cold night."</p> + +<p>He smiled; and she smiled, but awkwardly.</p> + +<p>And then he told her something of the case for the employers.</p> + +<p>"How hard you are on the men!" she protested, when he had done.</p> + +<p>"Not at all! Not at all!" He stretched himself, and came round his +trestles to poke the fire. "You should hear Mr. Clayhanger on the men, if +you want to know what hard is."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Clayhanger? You mean old Mr. Clayhanger?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But he isn't a manufacturer."</p> + +<p>"No. But he's an employer of labour."</p> + +<p>Hilda rose uneasily from her chair, and walked towards the distant, +shadowed dressing-table.</p> + +<p>"I should like to go over a printing-works," she said abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Very easy," said Mr. Orgreave, resuming his work with a great expulsion +of breath.</p> + +<p>Hilda thought: "Why did I say that?" And, to cover her constraint, she +cried out: "Oh, what a lovely book!"</p> + +<p>A small book, bound in full purple calf, lay half hidden in a nest of +fine tissue paper on the dressing-table.</p> + +<p>"Yes, isn't it?" said Mrs. Orgreave. "Tom brought it in to show me, +before he went this afternoon. It's a birthday present for Edie. He's had +it specially bound. I must write myself, and ask Edie to come over and meet +you. I'm sure you'd like her. She's a dear girl. I think Tom's very +fortunate."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't," Osmond Orgreave contradicted her, with a great rustling +of paper. "You think Edie's very fortunate."</p> + +<p>Hilda looked round, and caught the architect's smile.</p> + +<p>"I think they're both fortunate," said Mrs. Orgreave simply. She had +almost no sense of humour. "I'm sure she's a real good girl, and clever +too."</p> + +<p>"Clever enough to get on the right side of her future mother-in-law, +anyway!" growled Mr. Orgreave.</p> + +<p>"Anyone might think Osmond didn't like the girl," said Mrs. Orgreave, +"from the way he talks. And yet he adores her! And it's no use him +pretending he doesn't!"</p> + +<p>"I only adore you!" said Osmond.</p> + +<p>"You needn't try to turn it off!" his wife murmured, beaming on +Hilda.</p> + +<p>Tears came strangely into Hilda's eyes, and she turned again to the +dressing-table. And through a blur, she saw all the objects ranged in a +long row on the white cloth that covered the rosewood; and she thought: +"All this is beautiful." And she saw the pale blinds drawn down behind the +dressing-table, and the valance at the top, and the draped curtains; and +herself darkly in the glass. And she could feel the vista of the large, +calm, comfortable room behind her, and could hear the coals falling +together in the grate, and the rustling of the architect's paper, and Mrs. +Orgreave's slight cough. And, in her mind, she could see all the other +rooms in the spacious house, and the dim, misted garden beyond. She +thought: "All this house is beautiful. It is the most beautiful thing I +have ever known, or ever shall know. I'm happy here!" And then her +imagination followed each of the children. She imagined Marian, the eldest, +and her babies, in London; and Charlie, also in London, practising +medicine; and Tom and Janet and Alicia at the party at Hillport; and Jimmie +and Johnnie seeing life at Hanbridge; while the parents remained in +tranquillity in their bedroom. All these visions were beautiful; even the +vision of Jimmie and Johnnie flourishing billiard-cues and glasses and +pipes in the smoky atmosphere of a club--even this was beautiful; it was as +simply touching as the other visions.... And she was at home with the +parents, and so extremely intimate with them that she could nearly conceive +herself a genuine member of the house. She was in bliss. Her immediate past +dropped away from her like an illusion, and she became almost the old +Hilda: she was almost born again into innocence. Only the tragic figure of +George Cannon hung vague in the far distance of memory, and the sight +thereof constricted her heart. Utterly her passion for him had expired: she +was exquisitely sad for him; she felt towards him kindly and guiltily, as +one feels towards an old error.... And, withal, the spell of the home of +the Orgreaves took away his reality.</p> + +<p>She was fingering the book. Its title-page ran: <i>The English Poems of +Richard Crashaw</i>. Now she had never even heard of Richard Crashaw, and +she wondered who he might be. Turning the pages, she read:</p> + +<blockquote> +All thy old woes shall now smile on thee,<br /> +And thy pains sit bright upon thee,<br /> +All thy sorrows here shall shine,<br /> +All thy sufferings be divine:<br /> +Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems,<br /> +And wrongs repent to diadems.<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>And she read again, as though the words had been too lovely to be real, +and she must assure herself of them:</p> + +<blockquote> +Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems,<br /> +And wrongs repent to diadems.<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>She turned back to the beginning of the poem, and read the title of it: +"A Hymn, to the name and honour of the admirable Saint Teresa--Foundress of +the Reformation of the discalced Carmelites, both men and women: a woman +for angelical height of speculation, for masculine courage of performance +more than a woman: who yet a child outran maturity, and durst plot a +martyrdom."</p> + +<p>The prose thrilled her even more intimately than the verse. She cried +within herself: "Why have I never heard of Richard Crashaw? Why did Tom +never tell me?" She became upon the instant a devotee of this Saint Teresa. +She thought inconsequently, with a pang that was also a reassurance: +"George Cannon would never have understood this. But everyone here +understands it." And with hands enfevered, she turned the pages again, and, +after several disappointments, read:</p> + +<blockquote> +Oh, thou undaunted daughter of desires!<br /> +By all thy dower of lights and fires;<br /> +By all the eagle in thee, all the dove:<br /> +By all thy lives and deaths of love:<br /> +By thy large draughts of intellectual day;<br /> +And by thy thirsts of love more large than they:<br /> +By all thy brim-filled bowls of fierce desire,<br /> +By this last morning's draught of liquid fire:<br /> +By the full kingdom of that final kiss----<br /> +</blockquote> + +<p>She ceased to read. It was as if her soul was crying out: "I also am +Teresa. This is I! This is I!"</p> + +<p>And then the door opened, and Martha appeared once more:</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir, Mr. Edwin Clayhanger's called."</p> + +<p>"Oh... well, I'm nearly finished. Where is he?"</p> + +<p>"In the breakfast-room, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell him I'll be down in a minute."</p> + +<p>"Hilda," said Mrs. Orgreave, "will <i>you</i> mind going and telling +him?"</p> + +<p>Hilda had replaced the book in its nest, and gone quickly back to her +chair. The entrance of the servant at that moment, to announce Edwin +Clayhanger, seemed to her startlingly dramatic. "What," she thought, "I am +just reading that and he comes!... He hasn't been here for ages, and, on +the very night that I come, he comes!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she replied to Mrs. Orgreave. And she thought: "This is the +second time she has sent me with a message to Edwin Clayhanger."</p> + +<p>Suddenly, she blushed in confusion before the mistress of the home. "Is +it possible," she asked herself,--"is it possible that Mrs. Orgreave +doesn't guess what has happened to me? Is it possible she can't see that +I'm different from what I used to be? If she knew... if they knew... +here!"</p> + +<p>She left the room like a criminal. When she was going down the stairs, +she discovered that she held the <i>Signal</i> in her hand. She had no +recollection of picking it up, and there was no object in taking it to the +breakfast-room! She thought: "What a state I must be in!"</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b6c2">CHAPTER II</a><br /> A RENDEZVOUS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>"I suppose you've never thought about me once since I've left!"</p> + +<p>She was sitting on the sofa in the small, shelved breakfast-room, and +she shot these words at Edwin Clayhanger, who was standing near her. The +singular words were certainly uttered out of bravado: they were a challenge +to adventure. She thought: "It is madness for me to say such a thing." But +such a thing had, nevertheless, come quite glibly out of her mouth, and she +knew not why. If Edwin Clayhanger was startled, so was she startled.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I have!" he stammered--of course, she had put him out of +countenance.</p> + +<p>She smiled, and said persuasively: "But you've never inquired after +me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have," he answered, with a hint of defiance, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Only once." She continued to smile.</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Then she told him very calmly, extinguishing the smile, that her source +of information was Janet.</p> + +<p>"That's nothing to go by!" he exclaimed, with sudden roughness. "That's +nothing to go by--the number of <i>times</i> I've inquired!"</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>She was silenced. She thought: "If I am thus intimate with him, it must +be because of the talk we had in the garden that night." And it seemed to +her that the scene in the garden had somehow bound them together for ever +in intimacy, that, even if they pretended to be only acquaintances, they +would constantly be breaking through the thin shell of formality into some +unguessed deep of intimacy. She regarded--surreptitiously--his face, with a +keen sense of pleasure. It was romantic, melancholy, wistful, +enigmatic--and, above all, honest. She knew that he had desired to be an +architect, and that his father had thwarted his desire, and this fact +endowed him for her with the charm of a victim. The idea that all his life +had been embittered and shadowed by the caprice of an old man was beautiful +to her in its sadness: she contemplated it with vague bliss. At their last +meeting, during the Sunday School Centenary, he had annoyed her; he had +even drawn her disdain, by his lack of initiative and male force in the +incident of the senile Sunday School teacher. He had profoundly +disappointed her. Now, she simply forgot this; the sinister impression +vanished from her mind. She recalled her first vision of him in the lighted +doorway of his father's shop. Her present vision confirmed that sympathetic +vision. She liked the feel of his faithful hand, and the glance of his +timid and yet bellicose eye. And she reposed on his very apparent honesty +as on a bed. She knew, with the assurance of perfect faith, that he had +nothing dubious to conceal, and that no test could strain his magnanimity. +And, while she so reflected, she was thinking, too, of Janet's fine dress, +and her elegance and jewels, and wishing that she had changed the old black +frock in which she travelled. The perception that she could never be like +Janet cast her down. But, the next moment, she was saying to herself +proudly: "What does it matter? Why should I be like Janet?" And, the next +moment after that, she was saying, in another phase of her pride: "I +<i>will</i> be like Janet!"</p> + +<p>They began to discuss the strike. It was a topic which, during those +weeks, could not be avoided, either by the rich or by the poor.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're like all the rest--against the men?" she challenged +him again, inviting battle.</p> + +<p>He replied bluntly: "What earthly right have you to suppose that I'm +like all the rest?"</p> + +<p>She bent her head lower, so that she could only see him through the veil +of her eyelashes.</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry," she said, in a low, smiling, meditative voice. "I knew +all the time you weren't."</p> + +<p>The thought shot through her mind like a lance: "It is incredible, and +horribly dangerous, that I should be sitting here with him, after all that +has happened to me, and him without the slightest suspicion!... And yet +what can stop it from coming out, sooner or later? Nothing can stop +it."</p> + +<p>Edwin Clayhanger continued to talk of the strike, and she heard him +saying: "If you ask me, I'll tell you what I think--workmen on strike are +always in the right... you've only got to look at them in a crowd together. +They don't starve themselves for fun."</p> + +<p>What he said thrilled her. There was nothing in it, but there was +everything in it. His generosity towards the oppressed was everything to +her. His whole attitude was utterly and mysteriously different from that of +any other man whom she had known.... And with that simple, wistful +expression of his!</p> + +<p>They went on talking, and then, following in secret the train of her own +thoughts, she suddenly burst out:</p> + +<p>"I never met anybody like you before." A pause ensued. "No, never!" she +added, with intense conviction.</p> + +<p>"I might say the same of you," he replied, moved.</p> + +<p>"Oh no! I'm nothing!" she breathed.</p> + +<p>She glanced up, exquisitely flattered. His face was crimson. Exquisite +moment, in the familiarity of the breakfast-room, by the fire, she on the +sofa, with him standing over her, a delicious peril. The crimson slowly +paled.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>Osmond Orgreave entered the room, quizzical, and at once began to tease +Clayhanger about the infrequency of his visits.</p> + +<p>Turning to Hilda, he said: "He scarcely ever comes to see us, except +when you're here." It was just as if he had said: "I heard every word you +spoke before I came in, and I have read your hearts." Both Hilda and +Clayhanger were disconcerted--Clayhanger extremely so.</p> + +<p>"Steady on!" he protested uncouthly. And then, with the most naïve +ingenuousness: "Mrs. Orgreave better?"</p> + +<p>But Osmond Orgreave was not in a merciful mood. A moment later he was +saying:</p> + +<p>"Has she told you she wants to go over a printing-works?"</p> + +<p>"No," Clayhanger answered, with interest. "But I shall be very pleased +to show her over ours, any time."</p> + +<p>Hilda struck into silence, made no response, and instantly Clayhanger +finished, in another tone: "Look here, I must be off. I only slipped in for +a minute--really."</p> + +<p>And he went, declining Mr. Orgreave's request to give a date for his +next call. The bang of the front door resounded through the house.</p> + +<p>Mr. Orgreave, having taken Clayhanger to the front door, did not return +immediately into the breakfast-room. Hilda jumped up from the sofa, +hesitant. She was disappointed; she was even resentful; assuredly she was +humiliated. "Oh no!" she thought. "He's weak and afraid.... I dare say he +went off because Janet wasn't here." She heard through the half-open door +Mr. Orgreave's slippers on the tiles of the passage leading to the +stairs.</p> + +<p>Martha came into the room with a delighted, curious smile.</p> + +<p>"If you please, miss, could you come into the hall a minute?... Some one +to speak to you."</p> + +<p>Hilda blushed silently, and obeyed. Clayhanger was standing in the chill +hall, hat in hand. Her heart jumped.</p> + +<p>"When will you come to look over our works?" he muttered rapidly and +very nervously, and yet with a dictatorial gruffness. "To-morrow? I should +like you to come."</p> + +<p>He had put an enchantment upon her by this marvellous return. And to +conceal from him what he had done, she frowned and kept silent.</p> + +<p>"What time?" she asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>"Any time." His eagerness was thrilling.</p> + +<p>"Oh no! You must fix the time."</p> + +<p>"Say between half-past six and a quarter to seven. That do?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. Their hands met. He said adieu. He pulled open the heavy +door. She saw his back for an instant against the pale gloom of the garden, +in which vapour was curling. And then she had shut the door, and was +standing alone in the confined hall. A miracle had occurred, and it +intimidated her. And, amid her wondrous fears, she was steeped in the +unique sense of adventure. "This morning I was in Brighton," she thought. +"Half an hour ago I had no notion of seeing him. And now!... And +to-morrow?" The tragic sequel to one adventure had not impaired her +instinct for experience. On the contrary, it had strengthened it. The very +failure of the one excited her towards another. The zest of living was +reborn in her. The morrow beckoned her, golden and miraculous. The faculty +of men and women to create their own lives seemed divine, and the +conception of it enfevered her.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b6c3">CHAPTER III</a><br /> AT THE WORKS</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>That night, late, Hilda and Janet shut themselves up in the bedroom +together. The door clicked softly under Janet's gentle push, and they were +as safe from invasion as if the door had been of iron, and locked and +double-locked and barred with bars of iron. Alicia alone might have +disturbed them, but Alicia was asleep. Hilda had a sense of entire security +in this room such as she had never had since she drove away from Lessways +Street, Turnhill, early one morning, with Florrie Bagster in a cab. It was +not that there had been the least real fear of any room of hers being +attacked: it was that this room seemed to have been rendered mystically +inviolate by long years of Janet's occupation. "Janet's bedroom!"--the +phrase had a sanction which could not possibly have attached itself to, for +instance, "Hilda's bedroom!" Nor even to "mother's bedroom"--mother's +bedroom being indeed at the mercy of any profane and marauding member of +the family, a sort of market-place for the transaction of affairs.</p> + +<p>And, further, Janet's bedroom was distinguished and made delicious for +Hilda by its fire. It happened to be one of the very few bedrooms in the +Five Towns at that date with a fire, as a regular feature of it. Mrs. +Orgreave had a fire in the parental bedroom, when she could not reasonably +do without it, but Osmond Orgreave suffered the fire rather than enjoyed +it. As for Tom, though of a shivery disposition, he would have dithered to +death before admitting that a bedroom fire might increase his comfort. +Johnnie and Jimmie genuinely liked to be cold in their bedroom. Alicia +pined for a fire, but Mrs. Orgreave, imitating the contrariety of fate, +forbade a fire to Alicia, and one consequence of this was that Alicia +sometimes undressed in Janet's bedroom, making afterwards a dash for the +Pole. The idea of a bedroom was always, during nearly half the year, +associated with the idea of discomfort in Hilda's mind. And now, in Janet's +bedroom, impressed as she was by the strangeness of the fact that the prime +reason for hurrying at top-speed into bed had been abolished, she yet +positively could not linger, the force of habit being too strong for her. +And she was in bed, despite efforts to dawdle, while Janet was still +brushing her hair.</p> + +<p>As she lay and watched Janet's complex unrobing, she acquired knowledge. +And once more, she found herself desiring to be like Janet--not only in +appearance, but in soft manner and tone. She thought: "How shall I dress +to-morrow afternoon?" All the operations of her brain related themselves +somehow to to-morrow afternoon. The anticipation of the visit to the +printing-works burned in her heart like a steady lamp that shone through +the brief, cloudy interests of the moment. And Edwin Clayhanger was +precisely the topic which Janet seemed, as it were, expressly to avoid. +Janet inquired concerning life at Brighton and the health of Sarah Gailey; +Janet even mentioned George Cannon; Hilda steadied her voice in replying, +though she was not really apprehensive, for Janet's questions, like the +questions of the whole family, were invariably discreet and respectful of +the individual's privacy. But of Edwin Clayhanger, whose visit nevertheless +had been recounted to her in the drawing-room on her return, Janet said not +a word.</p> + +<p>And then, when she had extinguished the gas, and the oriental sleeve of +her silk nightgown delicately brushed Hilda's face, as she got into bed, +she remarked:</p> + +<p>"Strange that Edwin Clayhanger should call just to-night!"</p> + +<p>Hilda's cheek warmed.</p> + +<p>"He asked me to go and look over their printing-works to-morrow," said +she quickly.</p> + +<p>Janet was taken aback.</p> + +<p>"Really!" she exclaimed, unmistakably startled. She spoke a second too +soon. If she had delayed only one second, she might have concealed from +Hilda that which Hilda had most plainly perceived, to wit, anxiety and +jealousy. Yes, jealousy, in this adorably benevolent creature's tone. +Hilda's interest in to-morrow afternoon was intensified.</p> + +<p>"Shall you be able to come?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"What time?"</p> + +<p>"He said about half-past six, or a quarter to seven."</p> + +<p>"I can't," said Janet dreamily, "because of that Musical Society +meeting--you know--I told you, didn't I?"</p> + +<p>In the faint light of the dying fire, Hilda made out little by little +the mysterious, pale heaps of clothes, and all the details of the room +strewn and disordered by reason of an additional occupant. The adventure +was now of infinite complexity, and its complexity seemed to be symbolized +by the suggestive feminine mysteriousness of what she saw and what she +divined in the darkness of the chamber. She thought: "I am here on false +pretences. I ought to tell my secret. That would be fair--I have no right +to intrude between her and him." But she instinctively and powerfully +resisted such ideas; with firmness she put them away, and yielded herself +with a more exquisite apprehension to the anticipation of to-morrow.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>The order of meals at Lane End was somewhat peculiar even then, and +would now be almost unique. It was partly the natural expression of an +instinctive and justified feeling of superiority, and partly due to a +discretion which forbade the family to scandalize the professional classes +of the district by dining at night. Dinner occurred in the middle of the +day, and about nine in the evening was an informal but copious supper. +Between those two meals, there came a tea which was neither high or low, +and whose hour, six o'clock in theory, depended to a certain extent, in +practice, on Mr. Orgreave's arrival from the office. Not seldom Mr. +Orgreave was late; occasionally he was very late. The kitchen waited to +infuse the tea until a command came from some woman, old or young, who +attentively watched a window for a particular swinging of the long gate at +the end of the garden, or listened, when it was dark, for the bang of the +gate and a particular crunching of gravel.</p> + +<p>On this Tuesday evening, Osmond Orgreave was very late, and the movement +of the household was less smooth than usual, owing to Mrs. Orgreave's +illness and to the absence of Janet at Hillport in connection with the +projected Hillport Choral Society. (Had Janet been warned of Hilda's visit, +she would not have accepted an invitation to a tea at Hillport as a +preliminary to the meeting of the provisional committee.) Hilda was in a +state of acute distress. The appointment with Edwin Clayhanger seemed to be +absolutely sacred to her; to be late for it would amount to a crime: to +miss it altogether would be a calamity inconceivable. The fingers of all +the clocks in the house were revolving with the most extraordinary +rapidity--she was helpless.</p> + +<p>She was helpless, because she had said nothing all day of her +appointment, and because Janet had not mentioned it either. Janet might +have said before leaving: "Tea had better not wait too long--Hilda has to +be down at Clayhanger's at half-past six." Janet's silence impressed Hilda: +it was not merely strange--it was formidable: it affected the whole day. +Hilda thought: "Is she determined not to speak of it unless I do?" +Immediately Janet was gone, Hilda had run up to the bedroom. She was minded +to change the black frock which she had been wearing, and which she hated, +and to put on another skirt and bodice that Janet had praised. She longed +to beautify herself, and yet she was still hesitating about it at half-past +five in the evening as she had hesitated at eight in the morning. In the +end she had decided not to change, an account of the rain. But the rain had +naught to do with her decision. She would not change, because she was too +proud to change. She would go just as she was! She could not accept the +assistance of an attractive bodice!... Unfeminine, perhaps, but +womanly.</p> + +<p>At twenty-five minutes to seven, she went into Mrs. Orgreave's bedroom, +rather like a child, and also rather like an adult creature in a +distracting crisis. Tom Orgreave and Alicia were filling the entire house +with the stormy noise of a piano duet based upon Rossini's <i>William +Tell</i>.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll miss tea, Mrs. Orgreave," she said. "Edwin Clayhanger +invited me to go over the printing-works at half-past six, and it's +twenty-five minutes to seven now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but, my dear," cried Mrs. Orgreave, "why ever didn't you tell them +downstairs, or let me know earlier?"</p> + +<p>And she pulled at the bell-rope that overhung the head of the bed. Not a +trace of teasing archness in her manner! Hilda's appointment might have +been of the most serious business interest, for anything Mrs. Orgreave's +demeanor indicated to the contrary. Hilda stood mute and constrained.</p> + +<p>"You run down and tell them to make tea at once, dear. I can't let you +go without anything at all. I wonder what can have kept Osmond."</p> + +<p>Almost at the same moment, Osmond Orgreave entered the bedroom. His +arrival had been unnoticed amid the tremendous resounding of the duet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Osmond," said his wife. "Wherever have you been so late? Hilda +wants to go--Edwin Clayhanger has invited her to go over the works."</p> + +<p>Hilda, trembling at the door, more than half expected Mr. Orgreave to +say: "You mean, she's invited herself." But Osmond received the information +with exactly the same polite, apologetic seriousness as his wife, and, +reassured, Hilda departed from the room.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, veiled and cloaked, she stepped out alone into the +garden. And instantly her torment was assuaged, and she was happy. She +waited at the corner of the street for the steam-car. But, when the car +came thundering down, it was crammed to the step; with a melancholy +gesture, the driver declined her signal. She set off down Trafalgar Road in +the mist and the rain, glad that she had been compelled to walk. It seemed +to her that she was on a secret and mystic errand. This was not surprising. +The remarkable thing was that all the hurrying people she met seemed also +each of them to be on a secret and mystic errand. The shining wet pavement +was dotted with dark figures, suggestive and enigmatic, who glided over a +floor that was pierced by perpendicular reflections.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>In the Clayhanger shop, agitated and scarcely aware of what she did, she +could, nevertheless, hear her voice greeting Edwin Clayhanger in firm, calm +tones; and she soon perceived very clearly that he was even more acutely +nervous than herself: which perception helped to restore her confidence, +while, at the same time, it filled her with bliss. The young, fair man, +with his awkward and constrained movements, took possession of her +umbrella, and then suggested that she should remove her mackintosh. She +obeyed, timid and glad. She stripped off her mackintosh, as though she were +stripping off her modesty, and stood before him revealed. To complete the +sacrifice, she raised her veil, and smiled up at him, as it were, asking: +"What next?" Then a fat, untidy old man appeared in the doorway of a +cubicle within the shop, and Edwin Clayhanger blushed.</p> + +<p>"Father, this is Miss Lessways. Miss Lessways, my father.... +She's--she's come to look over the place."</p> + +<p>"How-d'ye-do, miss?"</p> + +<p>She shook hands with the tyrannic father, who was, however, despite his +reputation, apparently just as nervous as the son. There followed a most +sinister moment of silence. And, at last, the shop door opened, and the +father turned to greet a customer. Hilda thought: "Suppose this fat old man +is one day my father-in-law? Is it possible to imagine him as a +father-in-law?" And she had a transient gleam of curiosity concerning the +characters of the two Clayhanger sisters, and recalled with satisfaction +that Janet liked the elder one.</p> + +<p>Edwin Clayhanger, muttering, pointed to an aperture in the counter, and +immediately she was going through it with him, and through a door at the +back of the shop. They were alone, facing a rain-soaked yard. Edwin +Clayhanger sneezed violently.</p> + +<p>"It keeps on raining," Edwin murmured. "Better to have kept umbrella! +However--"</p> + +<p>He glanced at her inquiringly and invitingly. They ran side by side +across the yard to a roofed flight of steps that led to the +printing-office. For a couple of seconds, the rain wet them, and then they +were under cover again. It seemed to Hilda that they had escaped from the +shop like fox-terriers--like two friendly dogs from the surveillance of an +incalculable and dangerous old man. She felt a comfortable, friendly +confidence in Edwin Clayhanger--a tranquil sentiment such as she had never +experienced for George Cannon. After more than a year--and what a period of +unforeseen happenings!--she thought again: "I <i>like him</i>." Not love, +she thought, but liking! She liked being with him. She liked the sensation +of putting confidence in him. She liked his youth, and her own. She was +sorry because he had a cold and was not taking care of it.... Now they were +climbing a sombre creaking staircase towards a new and remote world that +was separated from the common world just quitted by the adventurous passage +of the rainy yard.... And now they were amid oily odours in a large +raftered workshop, full of machines.... The printing-works!... An enormous +but very deferential man saluted them with majestic solemnity. He was the +foreman, and labelled by his white apron as an artisan, but his gigantic +bulk--he would have outweighed the pair of them--and his age set him +somehow over them, so that they were a couple of striplings in his vasty +presence. When Edwin Clayhanger employed, as it were, daringly, the accents +of a master to this intimidating fellow, Hilda thrilled with pleasure at +the piquancy of the spectacle, and she was admiringly proud of Edwin. The +foreman's immense voice, explaining machines and tools, caused physical +vibrations in her. But she understood nothing of what he said--nothing +whatever. She was in a dream of oily odours and monstrous iron +constructions, dominated by the grand foreman: and Edwin was in the dream. +She began talking quite wildly of the four-hundredth anniversary of the +inventor of printing, of which she had read in Cranswick's History... at +Brighton! Brighton had sunk away over the verge of memory. Even Lane End +House was lost somewhere in the vague past. All her previous life had +faded. She reflected guiltily: "He's bound to think I've been reading about +printing because I was interested in <i>him</i> I don't care! I hope he +does think it!" She heard a suggestion that, as it was too late that night +to see the largest machine in motion, she might call the next afternoon. +She at once promised to come.... She impatiently desired now to leave the +room where they were, and to see something else. And then she feared lest +this might be all there was to see.... Edwin Clayhanger was edging towards +the door.... They were alone on the stairway again.... The foreman had +bowed at the top like a chamberlain.... She gathered, with delicious +anticipation, that other and still more recondite interiors awaited their +visit.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>They were in an attic which was used for the storage of reams upon reams +of paper. By the light of a candle in a tin candlestick, they had passed +alone together through corridors and up flights of stairs at the back of +the shop. She had seen everything that was connected with the enterprise of +steam-printing, and now they were at the top of the old house and at the +end of the excursion.</p> + +<p>"I used to work here," said Edwin Clayhanger.</p> + +<p>She inquired about the work.</p> + +<p>"Well," he drawled, "reading and writing, you know--at that very +table."</p> + +<p>In the aperture of the window, amid piles of paper, stood a rickety old +table, covered with dust.</p> + +<p>"But there's no fireplace," she said, glancing round the room, and then +directly at him.</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"But how did you do in winter?" she eagerly appealed.</p> + +<p>And he replied shortly, and with a slight charming affectation of pride: +"I did without."</p> + +<p>Her throat tightened, and she could feel the tears suddenly swim in her +eyes. She was not touched by the vision of his hardships. It was the +thought of all his youth that exquisitely saddened her--or all the years +which were and would be for ever hidden from her. She knew that she alone +of all human beings was gifted with the power to understand and fully +sympathize with him. And so she grieved over the long wilderness of time +during which he had been uncomprehended. She wanted, by some immense effort +of tenderness, to recompense him for all that he had suffered. And she had +a divine curiosity concerning the whole of his past life. She had never had +this curiosity in relation to George Cannon--she had only wondered about +his affairs with other women. Nor had George Cannon ever evoked the +tenderness which sprang up in her from some secret and inexhaustible source +at the mere sight of Edwin Clayhanger's wistful smile. Still, in that +moment, standing close to Edwin in the high solitude of the shadowed attic, +the souvenir of George Cannon gripped her painfully. She thought: "He loves +me, and he is ruined, and he will never see me again! And I am here, +bursting with hope renewed, and dizzy with joy!" And she pictured Janet, +too, wearying herself at a committee meeting. And she thought, "And here am +I...!" Her bliss was tragic.</p> + +<p>"I think I ought to be going," she said softly.</p> + +<p>They re-threaded the corridors, and in each lower room, as they passed, +Edwin Clayhanger extinguished the gas which he had lit there on the way up, +and Hilda waited for him. And then they were back in the crude glare of the +shop. The fat, untidy old man was not visible. Edwin helped her with the +mackintosh, and she liked him for the awkwardness of his efforts in doing +so.</p> + +<p>At the door, she urged him not to come out, and referred to his +cold.</p> + +<p>"This isn't the end of winter, it's the beginning," she warned him. +Nobody else, she knew, would watch over him.</p> + +<p>But he insisted on coming out.</p> + +<p>They arranged a rendezvous for three o'clock on the morrow, and then +they shook hands.</p> + +<p>"Now, do go in," she entreated, as she hurried away. The rain had +ceased. She fled triumphantly up Trafalgar Road, with her secret, guarding +it. "He's in love with me!" If a scientific truth is a statement of which +the contrary is inconceivable, then it was a scientific truth for her that +she and Edwin must come together. She simply would not and could not +conceive the future without him.... And this so soon, so precipitately +soon, after her misfortune! But it was her very misfortune which pushed her +violently forward. Her life had been convulsed and overthrown by the hazard +of destiny, and she could have no peace now until she had repaired and +re-established it. At no matter what risk, the thing must be accomplished +quickly... quickly.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b6c4">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> THE CALL FROM BRIGHTON</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>On the next afternoon, at a quarter-past two, Hilda and Janet were +sitting together in the breakfast-room. The house was still. The men were +either theoretically or practically at business. Alicia was at school. Mrs. +Orgreave lay upstairs. The servants had cleared away and washed up the +dinner-things, and had dined themselves. The kitchen had been cleansed and +put in order, and every fire replenished. Two of the servants were in their +own chambers, enfranchised for an hour: one only remained on duty. All six +women had the feeling, which comes to most women at a certain moment in +each day, that life had, for a time, deteriorated into the purposeless and +the futile; and that it waited, as in a trance, until some external +masculine event, expected or unforeseen, should renew its virtue and its +energy.</p> + +<p>Hilda was in half a mind to tell Janet the history of the past year. She +had wakened up in the night, and perceived with dreadful clearness that +trouble lay in front of her. The relations between herself and Edwin +Clayhanger were developing with the most dizzy rapidity, and in a direction +which she desired, but it would be impossible for her, if she fostered the +relations, to continue to keep Edwin in ignorance of the fact that, having +been known for about a fortnight as Mrs. George Cannon, she was not what he +supposed her to be. With imagination on fire, she was anticipating the +rendezvous at three o'clock. She reached forward to it in ecstasy; but she +might not enjoy it, save at the price which her conscience exacted. She had +to say to Edwin Clayhanger that she had been the victim of a bigamist. +Could she say it to him? She had not been able to say it even to Janet +Orgreave.... She would say it first to Janet. There, in the breakfast-room, +she would say it. If it killed her to say it, she would say it. She must at +any cost be able to respect herself, and, as matters stood, she could not +respect herself.</p> + +<p>Janet, on her knees, was idly arranging books on one of the lower +bookshelves. In sheer nervousness, Hilda also dropped to her knees on the +hearthrug, and began to worry the fire with the poker.</p> + +<p>"I say, Janet," she began.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Janet did not look up.</p> + +<p>Hilda, her heart beating, thought, with affrighted swiftness: "Why +should I tell her? It is no business of anybody's except <i>his</i>. I will +tell him, and him alone, and then act according to his wishes. After all, I +am not to blame. I am quite innocent. But I won't tell him to-day. Not +to-day! I must be more sure. It would be ridiculous to tell him to-day. If +I told him it would be almost like inviting a proposal! But when the proper +time comes,--then I will tell him, and he will understand! He is bound to +understand perfectly. He's in love with me."</p> + +<p>She dared not tell Janet. In that abode of joyful and successful +propriety the words would not form themselves. And the argument that she +was not to blame carried no weight whatever. She--she, Hilda--lacked +courage to be candid.... This was extremely disconcerting to her +self-esteem.... And even with Edwin Clayhanger she wished to temporize. She +longed for nothing so much as to see him; and yet she feared to meet +him.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" Janet repeated.</p> + +<p>A bell rang faintly in the distance of the house.</p> + +<p>Hilda, suddenly choosing a course, said: "I forgot to tell you. I'm +supposed to be going down to Clayhanger's at three to see a machine at +work--it was too late last night. Do come with me. I hate going by myself." +It was true: in that instant she did hate going by herself. She thought, +knowing Janet to be at liberty and never dreaming that she would refuse: "I +am saved--for the present."</p> + +<p>But Janet answered self-consciously:</p> + +<p>"I don't think I must leave mother. You'll be perfectly all right by +yourself."</p> + +<p>Hilda impetuously turned her head; their glances met for an instant, in +suspicion, challenge, animosity. They had an immense mutual admiration the +one for the other, these two; and yet now they were estranged. Esteem was +nullified by instinct. Hilda thought with positive savagery: "It's all +fiddlesticks about not leaving her mother! She's simply on her high horse!" +The whole colour of existence was changed.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>Martha entered the room. Neither of the girls moved. Beneath the +deferential servant in Martha was a human girl, making a third in the room, +who familiarly divined the moods of the other two and judged them as an +equal; and the other two knew it, and therefore did not trouble to be +spectacular in front of her.</p> + +<p>"A letter, miss," said Martha, approaching Hilda. "The old postman says +it was insufficiently addressed, or it 'ud ha' been here by first +post."</p> + +<p>"Was that the postman who rang just now?" asked Janet.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss."</p> + +<p>Hilda took the letter with apprehension, as she recognized the +down-slanting calligraphy of Sarah Gailey. Yes, the address was +imperfect--"Miss Lessways, c/o Osmond Orgreave, Esq., Lane End House, +Knype-on-Trent," instead of "Bursley, Knype-on-Trent." On the back of the +envelope had been written in pencil by an official, "Try Bursley." Sarah +Gailey could not now be trusted to address an envelope correctly. The mere +handwriting seemed to announce misfortune.</p> + +<p>"From poor Sarah," Hilda murmured, with false, good-tempered +tranquillity. "I wonder what sort of trouble she thinks she's got +into!"</p> + +<p>She thought: "If only I was married, I should be free of responsibility +about Sarah. I should have to think of my husband first. But nothing else +can free me. Unless I marry, I'm tied to Sarah Gailey as long as she +lives.... And why?... I should like to know!" The answer was simple: habit +had shackled her to Sarah Gailey.</p> + +<p>She opened the letter by the flickering firelight, which was stronger on +the hearthrug than the light of the dim November day. It began: "Dearest +Hilda, I write at once to tell you that a lawyer called here this afternoon +to inquire about your Hotel Continental shares. He told me there was going +to be some difficulty with the Company, and, unless the independent +shareholders formed a strong local committee to look after things, the +trouble might be serious. He wanted to know if you would support a +committee at the meeting. I gave him your address, and he's going to write +to you. But I thought I would write to you as well. His name is Eustace +Broughton, 124 East Street, in case. I do hope nothing will go wrong. It is +like what must be, I am sure! It has been impossible for me to keep the +charwoman. So I sent her off this morning. Can you remember the address of +that Mrs. Catkin?..." Sarah Gailey continued to discuss boarding-house +affairs, until she arrived at the end of the fourth page, and then, in a +few cramped words, she finished with expressions of love.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" Hilda exclaimed, rising, "I must write some letters at once." +She sighed, as if in tedium. The fact that her fortune was vaguely +threatened did not cause her anxiety: she scarcely realized it. What she +saw was an opportunity to evade the immediate meeting with Edwin--the +meeting which, a few minutes earlier, she had desired beyond +everything.</p> + +<p>"When? Now?"</p> + +<p>Hilda nodded.</p> + +<p>"But what about Master Edwin?" Janet asked, trying to be gay.</p> + +<p>"I shan't be able to go," said Hilda carelessly, at the door. "It's of +no consequence."</p> + +<p>"Martha has to go down town. If you like, she could call in there, and +just tell him."</p> + +<p>It was a reproof, from the young woman who always so thoughtfully +studied the feelings of everybody.</p> + +<p>"I'll just write a little note, then, thanks!" Hilda returned calmly, +triumphing after all over Janet's superiority, and thinking, "Janet can be +very peculiar, Janet can!"</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>For more than twenty hours, Hilda was profoundly miserable. Towards the +evening of the same day, she had made herself quite sure that Edwin +Clayhanger would call that night. Her hope persisted until half-past nine: +it then began to fade, and, at ten o'clock, was extinct. His name had been +mentioned by nobody. She went to bed. Having now a room of her own, which +overlooked the Clayhanger garden and house, she gazed forth, and, in the +dark, beheld, with the most anxious sensations, the building in which Edwin +existed and was concealed. "He is there," she said. "He is active about +something at this very instant--perhaps he is reading. He is close by. If I +shouted, he might hear...." And yet she was utterly cut off from him. +Again, in the late dawn, she saw the same building, pale and clear, but +just as secretive and enigmatic as in the night. "He is asleep yet," she +thought. "Why did he not call? Is he hurt? Is he proud?"</p> + +<p>She despaired, because she could devise no means of resuming +communication with him.</p> + +<p>Immediately after dinner on the next day, she went with Janet to Janet's +room, to examine a new winter cloak which had been delivered. And, while +Janet was trying it on, and posing coquettishly and yet without affectation +in front of the glass, and while Hilda was reflecting jealously, "Why am I +not like her? I know infinitely more than she knows. I am a woman, and she +is a girl, and yet she seems far more a woman than I--" Alicia, contrary to +all rules, took the room by storm. Alicia's excuse and salvation lay in a +telegram, which she held in her hand.</p> + +<p>"For you, Hilda!" cried the child, excited. "I'm just off to +school."</p> + +<p>Hilda reached to take the offered telegram, but her hand wavered around +it instead of seizing it. Her eye fastened on a circular portion of the +wall-paper pattern, and she felt that the whole room was revolving about +her. Then she saw Janet's face transformed by an expression of alarm.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Hilda?" Janet demanded. "Sit down."</p> + +<p>"You're frightfully pale," said Alicia eagerly.</p> + +<p>Hilda sat down.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she said. "It was the pattern of the wall-paper that made me +feel dizzy." And, for the moment, she did honestly believe that the pattern +of the wall-paper had, in some inexplicable manner, upset her. "I'm all +right now."</p> + +<p>The dizziness passed as suddenly as it had supervened. Janet held some +ineffectual salts to her nose.</p> + +<p>"I'm perfectly well," insisted Hilda.</p> + +<p>"How funny!" Alicia grinned.</p> + +<p>Calmly Hilda opened the telegram, which read: "Please come at +once.--GAILEY."</p> + +<p>She gave the telegram to Janet in silence.</p> + +<p>"What can be the matter?" Janet asked, with unreserved, loving +solicitude. The cloud which had hung between the two enthusiastic friends +was dissipated in a flash.</p> + +<p>"I haven't an idea," said Hilda, touched. "Unless it's those shares!" +She had briefly told Janet about the Hotel Continental Limited.</p> + +<p>"Shall you go?"</p> + +<p>Hilda nodded. Never again would she ignore an urgent telegram, though +she did not believe that this telegram had any real importance. She +attributed it to Sarah's increasing incompetence and hysterical +foolishness.</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether I can get on to Brighton to-night if I take the six +train?" Hilda asked, and to herself: "Can it have anything to do with +George?"</p> + +<p>Alicia, endowed with authority, went in search of a Bradshaw. But the +quest was fruitless. In the Five Towns the local time-table, showing the +connections with London, suffices for the citizen, and the breast-pocket of +no citizen is complete without it.</p> + +<p>"Clayhangers are bound to have a Bradshaw," cried Alicia, breathless +with running about the house.</p> + +<p>"Of course they are," Janet agreed.</p> + +<p>"I'll walk down there now," said Hilda, with extraordinary promptitude. +"It won't take five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I'd go," said Alicia, "only I should be late for school."</p> + +<p>"Shall I send some one down?" Janet suggested. "You might be taken dizzy +again."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks," Hilda replied deliberately. "I'll go--myself. There's +nothing wrong with me at all."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to be sharp over it," said Alicia pertly. "Don't forget +it's Thursday. They shut up at two, and it's not far off two now."</p> + +<p>"I'm going this very minute," said Hilda.</p> + +<p>"And I'm going this very second!" Alicia retorted.</p> + +<p>They all three left Janet's bedroom; the new cloak cast over a +chair-back, was degraded into a tedious banality--and ignored.</p> + +<p>In less than a minute Hilda, hatted and jacketed and partially gloved, +was crossing the garden. She felt most miraculously happy and hopeful, and +she was full of irrational gratitude to Alicia, as though Alicia were a +benefactor! The change in her mood seemed magic in its swiftness. If Janet, +with calm, cryptic face, had not been watching her from the doorway, she +might have danced on the gravel.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b6c5">CHAPTER V</a><br /> THURSDAY AFTERNOON</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>She was walking with Edwin Clayhanger up Duck Bank on the way to Bursley +railway station. A simple errand and promenade,--and yet she felt herself +to be steeped in the romance of an adventure! The adventure had +surprisingly followed upon the discovery that Alicia had been quite wrong. +"Clayhangers are bound to have a Bradshaw," the confident Alicia had said. +But Clayhangers happened not to have a Bradshaw. Edwin was alone in the +stationery shop, save for the assistant. He said that his father was +indisposed. And whereas the news that Clayhangers had no Bradshaw left +Hilda perfectly indifferent, the news that old Darius Clayhanger was +indisposed and absent produced in her a definite feeling of gladness. Edwin +had decided that the most likely place to search for a Bradshaw was the +station, and he had offered to escort her to the station. Nothing could +have been more natural, and at the same time more miraculous.</p> + +<p>The sun was palely shining upon dry, clean pavements and upon roads +juicy with black mud. And in the sunshine Hilda was very happy. It was +nothing to her that she was in quest of a Bradshaw because she had just +received an ominous telegram urgently summoning her to Brighton. She was +obliviously happy. Every phenomenon that attracted her notice contributed +to her felicity. Thus she took an eager joy in the sun. And a marked +improvement in Edwin's cold really delighted her. She was dominated by the +intimate conviction: "He loves me!" Which conviction excited her dormant +pride, and made her straighten her shoulders. She benevolently condescended +towards Janet. After all Janet, with every circumstance in her favour, had +not known how to conquer Edwin Clayhanger. After all she, Hilda, possessed +some mysterious characteristic more potent than the elegance and the +goodness of Janet Orgreave. She scorned her former self-deprecations, and +reproached her own lack of faith: "I am I!" That was the summary of her +mood. As for her attitude to Edwin Clayhanger, she could not explain it. +Why did she like him and like being with him? He was not brilliant, nor +masterful, nor handsome, nor well dressed, nor in any manner imposing. On +the contrary, he was awkward and apologetic, and not a bit spectacular. +Only the wistful gaze of his eyes, and his honest smile, and the appeal of +his gestures...! A puzzling affair, an affair perfectly incomprehensible +and enchanting.</p> + +<p>They walked side by side in silence.</p> + +<p>When they had turned into Moorthorne Road, half-way up whose slope lies +the station, she asked a question about a large wooden building from whose +interior came wild sounds of shouting and cheering, and learnt that the +potters on strike were holding a meeting in the town theatre. At the open +outer doors was a crowd of starving, shivering, dirty, ragged children, who +romped and cursed, or stood unnaturally meditative in the rich mud, like +fakirs fulfilling a vow. Hilda's throat was constricted by the sight. Pain +and joy ran together in her, burning exquisitely; and she had a glimpse, +obscure, of the mystical beauty of the children's suffering.</p> + +<p>"I'd no idea there was a theatre in Bursley," she remarked idly, driven +into a banality by the press of her sensations.</p> + +<p>"They used to call it the Blood Tub," he replied. "Melodrama and murder +and gore--you know."</p> + +<p>She exclaimed in horror. "Why are people like that in the Five +Towns?"</p> + +<p>"It's our form of poetry, I suppose," said he.</p> + +<p>She started, sensitively. It seemed to her that she had never understood +the secret inner spirit of the Five Towns, and that by a single phrase he +had made her understand it.... 'Our form of poetry'! Who but he could have +said a thing at once so illuminating and so simple?</p> + +<p>Apparently perplexed by the obvious effect on her of his remark, he +said:</p> + +<p>"But you belong to the Five Towns, don't you?"</p> + +<p>She answered quietly that she did. But her heart was saying: "I do +<i>now</i>. You have initiated me. I never felt the Five Towns before. You +have made me feel them."</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>At the station the head porter received their inquiry for a Bradshaw +with a dull stare and a shake of the head. No such thing had ever been +asked for at Bursley Station before, and the man's imagination could not go +beyond the soiled time-tables loosely pinned and pasted up on the walls of +the booking-office. Hilda suggested that the ticket-clerk should be +interrogated, but the aperture of communication with him was shut. She saw +Edwin Clayhanger brace himself and rap on the wood; and instead of +deploring his diffidence she liked it and found it full of charm. The +partition clicked aside, and the ticket-clerk's peering, suspicious head +showed in its place, mutely demanding a reason for this extraordinary +disturbance of the dream in which the station slumbered between two +half-hourly trains. With a characteristic peculiar slanting motion Edwin +nodded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how-d'ye-do, Mr. Brooks?" said Edwin hastily, as if startled by the +sudden inexplicable apparition of the head.</p> + +<p>But the ticket-clerk had no Bradshaw either. He considered it probable, +however, that the stationmaster would have a Bradshaw. Edwin had to brace +himself again, for an assault upon the fastness of the stationmaster.</p> + +<p>And in the incredibly small and incredibly dirty fastness of the +stationmaster, they indeed found a Bradshaw. Hilda precipitately took it +and opened it on the stationmaster's table. She looked for Brighton in it +as she might have looked for a particular individual in a city. Then Edwin +was bending over it, with his ear close to her ear, and the sleeve of his +overcoat touching her sleeve. She was physically aware of him, for the +first time. She thought, disconcerted: "But he is an utter stranger to me! +What do I know of him?" And then she thought: "For more than a year he must +have carried my image in his heart!"</p> + +<p>"Here," said Edwin brusquely, and with a certain superiority, "you might +just let me have a look at it myself."</p> + +<p>She yielded, tacitly admitting that a woman was no match for +Bradshaw.</p> + +<p>After a few moments' frowning Edwin said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, there's a train to Brighton at eleven-thirty to-night!"</p> + +<p>"May I look?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said he, subtly condescending.</p> + +<p>She examined the page, with a serious deliberation.</p> + +<p>"But what does this '<i>f</i>' mean?" she asked. "Did you notice this +'<i>f</i>'?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It means Thursdays and Saturdays only," said Edwin, his eyes +twinkling. It was as if he had said: "You think yourself very clever, but +do you suppose that I can't read the notes in a time-table?"</p> + +<p>"Well--" She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"To-day's Thursday, you see," he remarked curtly.</p> + +<p>She was ravished by his tone and his manner. And she became humble +before him, for in the space of a few seconds he had grown mysteriously and +powerfully masculine to her. But with all his masculinity there remained +the same wistful, honest, boyish look in his eyes. And she thought: "If I +marry him it will be for the look in his eyes."</p> + +<p>"I'm all right, then," she said aloud, and smiled.</p> + +<p>With hands nervously working within her muff, she suddenly missed the +handkerchief which she had placed there.</p> + +<p>"I believe I must have dropped my handkerchief in your shop!" she was +about to say. The phrase was actually on her tongue; but by a strange +instinctive, defensive discretion she shut her mouth on it and kept +silence. She thought: "Perhaps I had better not go into his shop again +to-day."</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>They descended the hill from the station. Hilda was very ill at ease. +She kept saying to herself: "This adventure is over now. I cannot prolong +it. There is nothing to do but to go back to the Orgreaves, and pack my +things and depart to Brighton, and face whatever annoyance is awaiting me +at Brighton." The prospect desolated her. She could not bear to leave Edwin +Clayhanger without some definition of their relations, and yet she knew +that it was hopeless and absurd to expect to arrive immediately at any such +definition: she knew that the impetuosity of her temperament could not be +justified. Also, she feared horribly the risk of being caught again in the +net of Brighton. As they got lower and lower down the hill, her +wretchedness and disquiet became acute, to the point of a wild despair. +Merely to temporize, she said, as they drew opposite the wooden +theatre:</p> + +<p>"Couldn't we just go and look in? I've got plenty of time."</p> + +<p>A strange request--to penetrate into a meeting of artisans on strike! +She felt its strangeness: she felt that Edwin Clayhanger objected, but she +was driven to an extremity. She had to do something, and she did what she +could.</p> + +<p>They crossed the road, and entered the huge shanty, and stood +apologetically near the door. The contrast between the open street and the +enclosed stuffiness of the dim and crowded interior was overwhelming. +Hundreds of ragged and shabby men sat in serried rows, leaning forward with +elbows out and heads protruding as they listened to a speech from the +gimcrack stage. They seemed to be waiting to spring, like famished and +ferocious tigers. Interrupting, they growled, snarled, yapped, and swore +with appalling sincerity. Imprecations burst forth in volleys and in +running fires. The arousing of the fundamental instincts of these human +beings had, indeed, enormously emphasized the animal in them. They had +swung back a hundred centuries towards original crude life. The +sophistication which embroiders the will-to-live had been stripped clean +off. These men helped you to understand the state of mind which puts a city +to the sack, and makes victims especially of the innocent and the +defenceless. Hilda was strangely excited. She was afraid, and enjoyed being +afraid. And it was as if she, too, had been returned to savagery and to the +primeval. In the midst of peril, she was a female under the protection of a +male, and nothing but that. And she was far closer, emotionally, to her +male than she had ever been before.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, the meeting came to an end. In an instant, the mass of +humanity was afoot and rounding upon them, an active menace. Hilda and +Edwin rushed fleeing into the street, violently urged by a common impulse. +The stream of embittered men pursued them like an inundation. When they +were safe, and breathing the free air, Hilda was drenched with a sense of +pity. The tragedy of existence presented itself in its true aspect, as +noble and majestic and intimidating.</p> + +<p>"It's terrible!" she breathed.</p> + +<p>She thought: "No! In this mood, it is impossible for me to leave him! I +cannot do it! I cannot!" The danger of re-entering the shop, which would be +closed now, utterly fascinated her. Supposing that she re-entered the shop +with him, would she have the courage to tell him that she was in his +society under false pretences? Could she bring herself to relate her +misfortune? She recoiled before the mere idea of telling him. And yet the +danger of the shop glittered in front of her like a lure.</p> + +<p>The future might be depending solely on her own act. If she told him of +the lost handkerchief, the future might be one thing: if she did not tell +him, it might be another.</p> + +<p>The dread of choosing seized her, and put her into a tremble of +apprehension. And then, as it were mechanically, she murmured (but very +clearly), tacking the words without a pause on to a sentence about the +strikes: "Oh, I've lost my handkerchief, unless I've left it in your shop! +It must have dropped out of my muff."</p> + +<p>She sighed in relief, because she had chosen. But her agitation was +intensified.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>In search of a lost handkerchief, they regained the Clayhanger premises +by an unfamiliar side door. She preceded him along a passage and then, +taking a door on the left, found herself surprisingly in the shop, behind a +counter. The shop was lighted only by a few diamond-shaped holes in the +central shutters, and it had a troubling aspect of portent, with its +merchandise mysteriously enveloped in pale sheets, and its chairs wrong +side up, and its deep-shadowed corners. Destiny might have been lurking in +one of those baffling corners. From above, through the ceiling, came the +vibration of some machine at work, and the machine might have been the loom +of time. Hilda was exquisitely apprehensive. She thought: "I am here. The +moment of my departure will come. When it comes, shall I have told him my +misfortune? What will have happened?" She waited, nervous, restless, +shaking like a victim who can do naught but wait.</p> + +<p>"Here's my handkerchief!" she cried, in a tone of unnatural childish +glee, that was one of the effects of her secret panic.</p> + +<p>The handkerchief glimmered on the counter, more white than anything else +in that grey dusk. She guessed that the shop-assistant must have found it, +and placed it conspicuously on the counter.</p> + +<p>They were alone: they were their own prisoners, secure from the street +and from all interruption. Hilda, once more and in a higher degree, +realized the miraculous human power to make experience out of nothing. They +had nothing but themselves, and they could, if they chose, create all their +future by a single gesture.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, there came a tremendous shouting from Duck Square, in front of +the shop. The strikers had poured down from Moorthorne Road into Duck Bank +and Duck Square.</p> + +<p>Edwin, who was in the middle of the shop, went to the glazed inner +doors, and, passing through into the porch, lifted the letter-flap in a +shutter, and, stooping, looked forth. He called to her, without moving his +face from the aperture, that a fight was in progress. Hilda gazed at his +back, through the glass, and then, coming round the end of the counter, +approached quietly, and stood immediately behind him, between the glazed +doors and the shutters. The two were in a space so small that they could +scarcely have moved without touching.</p> + +<p>"Let me look," she stammered, unable any longer to tolerate the +inaction.</p> + +<p>Edwin Clayhanger stepped aside, and held up the letter-flap for her with +his finger. She bent her head to the oblong glimpse of the street, and saw +the strikers engaged in the final internecine folly of strikers: they had +turned their exasperated wrath upon each other. Within a public-house at +the top of the little Square, other strikers were drinking. One policeman +regarded them.</p> + +<p>"What a shame!" she cried angrily, dropping the flap, and then withdrew +quickly into the shop, whither Edwin had gone. As she came near him, her +mood changed. She smiled gently. She summoned all her charm; and she knew +that she charmed him.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she said, "you've quite altered my notion of poetry--what +you said as we were going up to the station!"</p> + +<p>"Really?" He flushed.</p> + +<p>Yes, she had enchanted and entranced him. She had only to smile and to +use a particular tone, soft and breaking.... She knew that.</p> + +<p>"But you <i>do</i> alter my notions," she continued, and her clear voice +was poured out like a liquid. "I don't know how it is..." She stopped. And +then, in half-playful accents: "So this is your little office!"</p> + +<p>Her hand was on the knob of the open door of the cubicle, a black +erection within the shop, where Edwin and his father kept the accounts and +wrote letters.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Go in and have a look at it."</p> + +<p>She murmured kindly: "Shall I?" and went in. He followed.</p> + +<p>For a moment, she was extremely afraid, and she whispered, scared: "I +must hurry off now."</p> + +<p>He ignored this remark.</p> + +<p>"Shall you be at Brighton long?" he demanded. And he was so friendly and +simple and timorous and honest-eyed, and his features had such an +extraordinary anxious expression that her own fear seemed to leave her. She +thought, as if surprised by the discovery: "He is a good friend."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can't tell," she answered him. "It depends."</p> + +<p>"How soon shall you be down our way again?" His voice was thickening. +She shook her head, speechless. She was afraid again now. His face altered. +He was standing almost over her. She thought: "I am lost! I have let it +come to this!" He was no longer a good friend.</p> + +<p>He began to speak, in detached bits of phrases:</p> + +<p>"I say--you know--"</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, good-bye," she murmured anxiously. "I must go. Thanks very +much."</p> + +<p>And foolishly, she held out her hand, which he seized. He bent +passionately, and kissed her like a fresh boy, like a schoolboy. And she +gave back the kiss strongly, with all the profound sincerity of her nature. +His agitation appeared to be extreme; but she was calm; she was divinely +calm. She savoured the moment as though she had been a watcher, and not an +actor in the scene. She thought, with a secret sigh of bliss: "Yes, it is +real, this moment! And I have had it. Am I astonished that it has come so +soon, or did I know it was coming?" Her eyes drank up the face and the +hands and the gestures of her lover. She felt tired, and sat down in the +office chair, and he leaned on the desk, and the walls of the cubicle +folded them in, even from the inanimate scrutiny of the shop.</p> + + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p>They were talking together, half-fearfully, and yet with the confidence +of deep mutual trust, in the quick-gathering darkness of the cubicle. And +while they were talking, Hilda, in her head, was writing a fervent letter +to him: "... You see it was so sudden. I had had no chance to tell you. I +did so want to tell you, but how could I? And I hadn't told anybody! I'm +sure you will agree with me that it is best to tell some things as little +as possible. And when you had kissed me, how could I tell you then--at +once? I could not. It would have spoilt everything. Surely you understand. +I know you do, because you understand everything. If I was wrong, tell me +where. You don't guess how humble I am! When I think of you, I am the +humblest girl you can imagine. Forgive me, if there is anything to forgive. +I don't need to tell you that I have suffered."</p> + +<p>And she kept writing the letter again and again, slightly altering the +phrases so as to improve them, so as to express herself better and more +honestly and more appealingly.</p> + +<p>"I shall send you the address to-morrow," she was saying to him. "I +shall write you before I go to bed, whether it's to-night or to-morrow +morning." She put the fire of her love into the assurance. She smiled to +entrance him, and saw on his face that he was beside himself with joy in +her. She was a queen, surpassing in her prerogative a thousand elegant +Janets. She smiled; she proudly straightened her shoulders (she the +humblest!), and her boy was enslaved.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what people will say," he murmured.</p> + +<p>She said, with a pang of misgiving about his reception of her +letter:</p> + +<p>"Please tell no one!" She pleaded that for the present he should tell no +one. "Later on, it won't seem so sudden," she added plausibly. "People are +so silly."</p> + +<p>The sound of another battle in Duck Square awoke them. The shop was very +chilly, and quite dark. Their faces were only pale ovals in the blackness. +She shivered.</p> + +<p>"I must go! I have to pack."</p> + +<p>He clasped her: and she was innocently content: she was a young girl +again.</p> + +<p>"I'll walk up with you," he said protectively.</p> + +<p>But she would not allow him to walk up with her, and he yielded. He +struck a match. They stumbled out, and, in the midnight of the passage, he +took leave of her.</p> + +<p>Walking up Trafalgar Road, alone, she was so happy, so amazed, so +relieved, so sure of him and of his fineness and of the future, that she +could scarcely bear her felicity. It was too intense.... At last her life +was settled and mapped out. Destiny had been kind, and she meant to be +worthy of her fate. She could have swooned, so intoxicant was her wonder +and her solemn joy and her yearning after righteousness in love.</p> + + + + +<h2><a name="b6c6">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> MISCHANCE</h2> + + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>Twelve days later, in the evening, Hilda stood by the bedside of Sarah +Gailey in the basement room of No. 59 Preston Street. There was a bright +fire in the grate, and in front of the fire a middle-aged doctor was +cleansing the instrument which he had just employed to inject morphia into +Sarah's exhausted body. Hilda's assumption that the ageing woman had +telegraphed for her on inadequate grounds had proved to be quite wrong.</p> + +<p>Upon entering the house on that Thursday night, Hilda, despite the +anxious pale face of the new servant who had waited up for her and who +entreated her to see Sarah Gailey instantly, had gone first to her own room +and scrawled passionately a note to Edwin, which ran: "DEAREST,-- This is +my address. I love you. Every bit of me is absolutely yours. Write me.--H. +L." She gave the letter to the servant to post at once. And as she gave it +she had a vision of it travelling in post office, railway vans, and being +sorted, and sealed up in a bag, and recovered from the bag, and scanned by +the postman at Bursley, and borne up Trafalgar Road by the postman, and +dropped into the letter-box at Edwin's house, and finally seized by Edwin; +and of it pleasing him intensely,--for it was a good letter, and she was +proud of it because she knew that it was characteristic.</p> + +<p>And then, with her mind freed, she had opened the door of Sarah's +bedroom. Sarah was unquestionably very ill. Sarah had been quite right in +telegraphing so peremptorily to Hilda; and if she had not so telegraphed +she would have been quite wrong. On the previous day she had been sitting +on the cold new oilcloth of the topmost stairs, minutely instructing a maid +in the craft of polishing banisters. And the next morning an attack of +acute sciatica had supervened. For a trifling indiscretion Sarah was thus +condemned to extreme physical torture. Hilda had found her rigid on the +bed. She suffered the severest pain in the small of the back and all down +the left leg. Her left knee was supported on pillows, and the bed-clothes +were raised away from it, for it could tolerate no weight whatever. The +doctor, who had been and gone, had arranged a system of fomentation and +hot-water bottles surpassing anything in even Sarah's experience. And there +Sarah lay, not feverish but sweating with agony, terrified to move, +terrified to take a deep breath, lest the disturbance of the muscles might +produce consequences beyond her strength to endure. She was in no danger of +death. She could talk. She could eat and drink. Her pulse was scarcely +quickened. But she was degraded and humiliated by mere physical anguish to +the condition of a brute. This was her lot in life. All through that first +night Hilda stayed with her, trying to pretend that Sarah was a woman, and +in the morning she had assumed control of the house.</p> + +<p>She had her secret to console her. It remained a secret because there +was no one to whom she could relate it. Sarah had no ear for news +unconnected with her malady. And indeed to tell Sarah, as Sarah was, would +have been to carry callousness to the point of insult. And so Hilda, amid +her enormous labours and fatigue, had lived with her secret, which, from +being a perfumed delight, turned in two days to something subtly horrible, +to something that by its horror prevented her from writing to Edwin aught +but the briefest missives. She had existed from hour to hour, from one +minute apprehensively to the next, day and night, hardly sleeping, devoured +inwardly by a fear at once monstrous and simple, at once convincing and +incredible. As for the letter which mentally she had composed a hundred +times to Edwin, and which she owed to him, it had become fantastic and then +inconceivable to her.</p> + + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p>One of the new servants entered the room and handed a letter to Hilda, +and left the room and shut the door. The envelope was addressed "Miss +Lessways, 59 Preston Street, Brighton," in Edwin Clayhanger's beautiful +handwriting. Every evening came thus a letter, which he had posted in +Bursley on the previous day. Hilda thought: "Will this contain another +reproach at my irregularity? I can't bear it, if it does." And she gazed at +the handwriting, and in particular at her own name, and her own name seemed +to be the name of somebody else, of some strange young woman. She felt +dizzy.... The door of Sarah's wardrobe was ajar, and, in the mirror of it, +Hilda could see herself obscurely, a black-robed strange young woman, with +untidy hair and white cheeks and huge, dark, staring heavy eyes, with +pouches beneath them. The image wavered in the mirror. She thought: "Here +it is again, this awful feeling! Surely I am not going to faint!" She could +hear Sarah's sighing breath: she could hear the singing of the shaded +gas-flame. She turned her gaze away from the mirror, and saw Sarah's grey +head inadvertently nodding, as it always nodded. Then the letter slipped +out of her hand. She glanced down at the floor, in pursuit of it: the floor +was darkly revolving. She thought: "Am I really fainting this time? I +mustn't faint. I've got to arrange about that bacon to-night and--oh, lots +of things! Sarah is not a bit better. And I must sit with her until she +gets off to sleep." Her legs trembled, and she was terrorized by +extraordinary novel sensations of insecurity. "Oh!" she murmured +weakly.</p> + + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p>"You've only fainted," said the doctor in a low voice.</p> + +<p>She perceived, little by little, that she was lying flat on the floor at +the foot of Sarah's bed, and that he was kneeling beside her. The bed threw +a shadow on them both, but she could see his benevolent face, anxious and +yet reassuring, rather clearly.</p> + +<p>"What?" she whispered, in feeble despair. She felt that her resistance +was definitely broken.</p> + +<p>From higher up, at the level of the hidden bed, came the regular +plaintive respiration of Sarah Gailey.</p> + +<p>"You must take care of yourself better than this," said the doctor. +"Perhaps this is a day when you ought to be resting."</p> + +<p>She answered, resigned.</p> + +<p>"No, it's not that. I believe I'm going to have a child. You must..." +She stopped.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the doctor, with discretion. "Is that it?"</p> + +<p>Strange, how the direct words would create a new situation! She had not +told the doctor that she had been through the ceremony of marriage, and had +been victimized. She had told him nothing but the central and final thought +in her mind. And lo! the new situation was brought into being, and the +doctor was accepting it! He was not emitting astounded 'buts--!' Her +directness had made all possible 'buts' seem ridiculous and futile, and had +made the expression of curiosity seem offensive.</p> + +<p>She lay on the floor impassive. She was no longer horrified by +expectancy.</p> + +<p>"Well," said the doctor, "we must see. I think you can sit up now, can't +you?"</p> + +<p>Three-quarters of an hour afterwards, she went into Sarah's room alone. +She was aware of no emotion whatever. She merely desired, as a professional +nurse might have desired, to see if Sarah slept. Sarah was not sleeping. +She moaned, as she moaned continually when awake. Hilda bent over her +trembling head whose right side pressed upon the pillow.</p> + +<p>"How queer," thought Hilda, "how awful, that she didn't even hear what I +said to him! It will almost kill her when she does know."</p> + +<p>Sarah's eyes blinked. Without stirring, without shifting her horizontal, +preoccupied gaze from the wall, she muttered peevishly:</p> + +<p>"What's that you were saying about going to have a child?"</p> + +<p>Startled, Hilda moved back a little from the bed.</p> + +<p>"The doctor says there's no doubt I am," Hilda answered coldly.</p> + +<p>"How queer!" Sarah said. "I quite thought--but of course a girl like you +are couldn't be sure. I should like another biscuit. But I don't want the +Osbornes--the others." She resumed her moaning.</p> + + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p>On the following Saturday morning--rather more than a fortnight after +her engagement to Edwin Clayhanger--Hilda came out of the kitchen of No. +59 Preston Street, and shut the door on a nauseating, malodorous mess of +broken food and greasy plates, in the midst of which two servants were +noisily gobbling down their late breakfast, and disputing. With a frown of +disgust on her face, she looked into Sarah Gailey's bedroom. Sarah, though +vaguely better, was still in constant acute pain, and her knee still +reposed on a pillow, and was protected from the upper bed-clothes, and she +still could not move. Hilda put on a smile for Sarah Gailey, who nodded +morosely, and then, extinguishing the smile, as if it had been expensive +gas burning to no purpose, she passed into the basement sitting-room, and +slaked the fire there. With a gesture of irresolution, she lifted the lid +of the desk in the corner, and gazed first at a little pile of four +unopened letters addressed to her in Edwin's handwriting, and then at a +volume of Crashaw, which the enthusiastic Tom Orgreave had sent to her as a +reward for her appreciation of Crashaw's poems. She released the lid +suddenly, and went upstairs to her bedroom, chatting sugarily for an +instant on the way with the second Miss Watchett. In the bedroom, she +donned her street things, and then she descended. She had to go to the +Registry Office in North Street about a new cook. She stopped at the front +door, and then surprisingly went down once more into the basement +sitting-room. Standing up at the desk, she wrote this letter: "DARLING +JANET,--I am now married to George Cannon. The marriage is not quite +public, but I tell you before anybody, and you might tell Edwin +Clayhanger.--Your loving H. L." Least said soonest mended! And the +conciseness would discourage questioning. She inserted the letter into an +envelope, which she addressed and stamped, and then she fled with it from +the house, and in two minutes it was in a letter-box, and she was walking +slowly along the King's Road past the shops.</p> + +<p>The letter was the swift and desperate sequel to several days' +absolutely sterile reflection. It said enough for the moment. Later, she +could explain that her husband had left her. She could not write to Edwin. +She could not bring herself to write anything to him. She could not +confess, nor beg for forgiveness nor even for sympathetic understanding. +She could not admit the uninstructed rashness which had led her to assume +positively, on inadequate grounds, that her union with George Cannon had +been fruitless. She must suffer, and he also must suffer. Rather than let +him know, in any conceivable manner, that, all unwitting, she was bearing +the child of another at the moment of her betrothal to himself, she +preferred to be regarded as a jilt of the very worst kind. Strange that she +should choose the rôle of deceiver instead of the rôle of +victim! Strange that she would sooner be hated and scorned than pitied! +Strange that she would not even give Edwin the opportunity of treating her +as a widow! But so it was! For her, the one possible attitude towards Edwin +was the attitude of silence. In the silence of the grave her love for him +existed.</p> + +<p>As she walked along the chill promenade she looked with discreet +curiosity at every woman she met, to see her condition. This matter, which +before she had never thought of, now obsessed her; and all women were +divided for her into two classes, the expectant and the others. Also her +self-consciousness was extreme, more so even than it had been after her +mother's death. She was not frightened--yet. She was assuredly not +panic-struck. Rather her mood was grim, harsh, and calmly bitter. She +thought: "I suppose George must be informed." It affected her queerly that +if she took it into her head she need never go back to Preston Street. She +was free. She owed nothing to anybody. And yet she would go back. She would +require a home, soon. And she would require a livelihood, for the shares of +the Brighton Hotel Continental Limited promised to be sterile and were +already unsaleable. But apart from these considerations, she would have +gone back for Sarah Gailey--because Sarah Gailey was entirely dependent on +her. She detested Sarah, despite Sarah's sufferings, and yet by her +conscience she was for ever bound to her.</p> + +<p>The future loomed appalling. Sarah's career was finished. She could not +be anything but a burden and a torment; her last years would probably be +dreadful, both for herself and for others. The prospects of the +boarding-house were not radiant. Hilda could direct the enterprise, but not +well. She could work, but she had not the art of making others work. +Already the place was slightly at sixes and sevens. And she loathed it. She +loathed the whole business of catering. Along the entire length of the +King's Road, the smells of basement kitchens ascended to the pavement and +offended the nose. And Hilda saw all Brighton as a colossal and disgusting +enlargement of the kitchen at No. 59. She saw the background and the pits +of Brighton--that which underlies and hides behind, and is not seen. The +grandeur of the King's Road was naught to her. Her glance pierced it and it +faded to a hallucination. Beyond it she envisaged the years to come, the +messy and endless struggle, the necessary avarice and trickeries incidental +to it,--and perhaps the ultimate failure. She would never make money--she +felt that! She was not born to make money--especially by dodges and false +politeness, out of idle, empty-noddled boarders. She would lose it and lose +it. And she pictured what she would be in ten years: the hard-driven +landlady, up to every subterfuge,--with a child to feed and educate, and +perhaps a bedridden, querulous invalid to support. And there was no +alternative to the tableau.</p> + +<p>She went by the Chichester, which towered with all its stories above her +head. Who would take it now? George Cannon would have made it pay. He would +have made anything pay. How?... She was definitely cut off from the +magnificence of the King's Road. The side street was her destiny; the side +street and shabbiness. And it was all George's fault--and hers! The +poverty, if it came, would be George's fault alone. For he had squandered +her money in a speculation. It astounded her that George, so shrewd and +well balanced, should have made an investment so foolish. She did not +realize that a passion for a business enterprise, as for a woman, is +capable of destroying the balance of any man. And George Cannon had had +both passions.</p> + +<p>And then she saw Florrie Bagster, on the other side of the street, +walking leisurely by the sea-wall, alone. If Mr. Boutwood had had a more +generous and wild disposition he might have allowed Florrie to ruin him in +six months of furs and carriages and champagne. But Mr. Boutwood, though a +dog, was a careful dog, especially at those moments when the conventional +dog can refuse nothing. Florrie was well and warmly dressed,--no more; and +she was on foot. Hilda's gaze fastened on her, and immediately divined from +the cut and fall of the coat that Florrie had something to conceal from +every one but her Mr. Boutwood. And whereas Florrie trod the pavement with +a charming little air that wavered between impudence and modesty, between +timid meekness and conceit, Hilda blushed with shame and pity. She on one +footpath and Florrie on the other!</p> + +<p>"Soon," she thought, "I shall not be able to walk along this road!"</p> + +<p>She had sinned. She admitted that she had sinned against some quality in +herself. But how innocently and how ignorantly! And what a tremendous +punishment for so transient a weakness! And new consequences, still more +disastrous than any she had foreseen, presented themselves one after +another. George had escaped, but a word of open scandal, a single whisper +in the ear of the old creature down at Torquay, might actuate machinery +that would reach out after him and drag him back, and plant him in jail. +George, the father of her child, in jail! It was all a matter of chance; +sheer chance! She began to perceive what life really was, and the immense +importance of hazard therein. Nevertheless, without frailty, without +defection, what could chance have done? She began to perceive that this +that she was living through was life. She bit her lips. Grief! Shame! +Disillusion! Hardship! Peril! Catastrophe! Exile! Above all, exile! These +had to be faced, and they would be faced. She recalled the firiest verse of +Crashaw and she set her shoulders back. There was the stuff of a woman in +her.... Only a little while, and she had seen before her a beloved boy +entranced by her charm. She had now no charm. Where now was the soft +virgin?... And yet, somehow, magically, miraculously, the soft virgin was +still there! And the invincible vague hope of youth, and the irrepressible +consciousness of power, were almost ready to flame up afresh, contrary to +all reason, and irradiate her starless soul.</p> + +<p>NOTE:--<i>The later history of Hilda Lessways and Edwin Clayhanger will +form the theme of another novel.</i></p> + + + +<p><a href="#rfn1" name="fn1">1.</a> See the author's novel, +<i>Clayhanger</i>.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hilda Lessways, by Arnold Bennett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HILDA LESSWAYS *** + +***** This file should be named 10658-h.htm or 10658-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/6/5/10658/ + +Produced by John Hagerson, Kevin Handy and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + + https://www.gutenberg.org/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: + https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + + + + +</pre> + +</body> +</html> + |