CHAPTER XXXIII

Thedayofhervisitwasexquisite,andthelastofuncloudedhappinessthatshewastohaveformanymonths.HeranxietyaboutHelen’sextraordinaryabsencewasstilldormant,andasforapossiblebrushwithMissAvery—thatonlygavezesttotheexpedition.ShehadalsoeludedDolly’sinvitationtoluncheon.Walkingstraightupfromthestation,shecrossedthevillagegreenandenteredthelongchestnutavenuethatconnectsitwiththechurch.Thechurchitselfstoodinthevillageonce.Butitthereattractedsomanyworshippersthatthedevil,inapet,snatcheditfromitsfoundations,andpoiseditonaninconvenientknoll,threequartersofamileaway.Ifthisstoryistrue,thechestnutavenuemusthavebeenplantedbytheangels.NomoretemptingapproachcouldbeimaginedforthelukewarmChristian,andifhestillfindsthewalktoolong,thedevilisdefeatedallthesame,SciencehavingbuiltHolyTrinity,aChapelofEase,neartheCharles’sandroofeditwithtin. UptheavenueMargaretstrolledslowly,stoppingtowatchtheskythatgleamedthroughtheupperbranchesofthechestnuts,ortofingerthelittlehorseshoesonthelowerbranches.WhyhasnotEnglandagreatmythology?Ourfolklorehasneveradvancedbeyonddaintiness,andthegreatermelodiesaboutourcountry-sidehaveallissuedthroughthepipesofGreece.Deepandtrueasthenativeimaginationcanbe,itseemstohavefailedhere.Ithasstoppedwiththewitchesandthefairies.Itcannotvivifyonefractionofasummerfield,orgivenamestohalfadozenstars.Englandstillwaitsforthesuprememomentofherliterature—forthegreatpoetwhoshallvoiceher,or,betterstillforthethousandlittlepoetswhosevoicesshallpassintoourcommontalk. Atthechurchthescenerychanged.Thechestnutavenueopenedintoaroad,smoothbutnarrow,whichledintotheuntouchedcountry.Shefolloweditforoveramile.Itslittlehesitationspleasedher.Havingnourgentdestiny,itstrolleddownhillorupasitwished,takingnotroubleaboutthegradients,orabouttheview,whichneverthelessexpanded.ThegreatestatesthatthrottlethesouthofHertfordshirewerelessobtrusivehere,andtheappearanceofthelandwasneitheraristocraticnorsuburban.Todefineitwasdifficult,butMargaretknewwhatitwasnot:itwasnotsnobbish.Thoughitscontourswereslight,therewasatouchoffreedomintheirsweeptowhichSurreywillneverattain,andthedistantbrowoftheChilternstoweredlikeamountain.“Lefttoitself,”wasMargaret’sopinion,“thiscountywouldvoteLiberal.”Thecomradeship,notpassionate,thatisourhighestgiftasanation,waspromisedbyit,asbythelowbrickfarmwhereshecalledforthekey. Buttheinsideofthefarmwasdisappointing.Amostfinishedyoungpersonreceivedher.“Yes,Mrs.Wilcoxno,Mrs.Wilcoxohyes,Mrs.Wilcox,auntiereceivedyourletterquiteduly.Auntiehasgoneuptoyourlittleplaceatthepresentmoment.ShallIsendtheservanttodirectyou?”Followedby:“Ofcourse,auntiedoesnotgenerallylookafteryourplacesheonlydoesittoobligeaneighbourassomethingexceptional.Itgiveshersomethingtodo.Shespendsquitealotofhertimethere.Myhusbandsaystomesometimes,‘Where’sauntie?’Isay,‘Needyouask?She’satHowardsEnd.’Yes,Mrs.Wilcox.Mrs.Wil