CHAPTER XXXIV
關燈
小
中
大
ofdisaster,shekepthercoloursflyingalittlelonger.Sherepliedthattheirauntwasmuchbetter,andawaiteddevelopments.
Tibbyapprovedofherreply.Mellowingrapidly,hewasapleasantercompanionthanbefore.Oxfordhaddonemuchforhim.Hehadlosthispeevishness,andcouldhidehisindifferencetopeopleandhisinterestinfood.Buthehadnotgrownmorehuman.Theyearsbetweeneighteenandtwenty-two,somagicalformost,wereleadinghimgentlyfromboyhoodtomiddleage.Hehadneverknownyoung-manliness,thatqualitywhichwarmsthehearttilldeath,andgivesMr.Wilcoxanimperishablecharm.Hewasfrigid,throughnofaultofhisown,andwithoutcruelty.HethoughtHelenwrongandMargaretright,butthefamilytroublewasforhimwhatascenebehindfootlightsisformostpeople.Hehadonlyonesuggestiontomake,andthatwascharacteristic.
“Whydon’tyoutellMr.Wilcox?”
“AboutHelen?”
“Perhapshehascomeacrossthatsortofthing.”
“Hewoulddoallhecould,but—”
“Oh,youknowbest.Butheispractical.”
Itwasthestudent’sbeliefinexperts.Margaretdemurredforoneortworeasons.PresentlyHelen’sanswercame.Shesentatelegramrequestingtheaddressofthefurniture,asshewouldnowreturnatonce.Margaretreplied,“Certainlynotmeetmeatthebankers’atfour.”SheandTibbywentuptoLondon.Helenwasnotatthebankers’,andtheywererefusedheraddress.Helenhadpassedintochaos.
Margaretputherarmroundherbrother.Hewasallthatshehadleft,andneverhadheseemedmoreunsubstantial.
“Tibbylove,whatnext?”
Hereplied:“Itisextraordinary.”
“Dear,yourjudgment’softenclearerthanmine.Haveyouanynotionwhat’sattheback?”
“None,unlessit’ssomethingmental.”
“Oh—that!”saidMargaret.“Quiteimpossible.”Butthesuggestionhadbeenuttered,andinafewminutesshetookitupherself.Nothingelseexplained.AndLondonagreedwithTibby.Themaskfelloffthecity,andshesawitforwhatitreallyis—acaricatureofinfinity.Thefamiliarbarriers,thestreetsalongwhichshemoved,thehousesbetweenwhichshehadmadeherlittlejourneysforsomanyyears,becamenegligiblesuddenly.Helenseemedonewithgrimytreesandthetrafficandtheslowly-flowingslabsofmud.ShehadaccomplishedahideousactofrenunciationandreturnedtotheOne.Margaret’sownfaithheldfirm.Sheknewthehumansoulwillbemerged,ifitbemergedatall,withthestarsandthesea.Yetshefeltthathersisterhadbeengoingamissformanyyears.Itwassymbolicthecatastropheshouldcomenow,onaLondonafternoon,whilerainfellslowly.
Henrywastheonlyhope.Henrywasdefinite.Hemightknowofsomepathsinthechaosthatwerehiddenfromthem,andshedeterminedtotakeTibby’sadviceandlaythewholematterinhishands.Theymustcallathisoffice.Hecouldnotwellmakeitworse.ShewentforafewmomentsintoSt.Paul’s,whosedomestandsoutoftheweltersobravely,asifpreachingthegospelofform.Butwithin,St.Paul’sisasitssurroundings—echoesandwhispers,inaudiblesongs,invisiblemosaics,wetfootmarks,crossingandrecrossingthefloor.Simonumentumrequiris,circumspiceitpointsusbacktoLondon.TherewasnohopeofHelenhere.
Henrywasunsatisfactoryatfirst.Thatshehadexpected.HewasoverjoyedtoseeherbackfromSwanage,andslowtoadmitthegrowthofanewtrouble.Whentheytoldhimoftheirsearch,heonlychaffedTibby
