CHAPTER XLI

y—hewishedthathehadspokentothem.Whatwashislife?Whatwereafewangrywords,orevenimprisonment?Hehaddonewrong—thatwasthetrueterror.Whatevertheymightknow,hewouldtellthemeverythingheknew.Here-enteredSt.Paul’s.Buttheyhadmovedinhisabsence,andhadgonetolaytheirdifficultiesbeforeMr.WilcoxandCharles. ThesightofMargaretturnedremorseintonewchannels.Hedesiredtoconfess,andthoughthedesireisproofofaweakenednature,whichisabouttolosetheessenceofhumanintercourse,itdidnottakeanignobleform.Hedidnotsupposethatconfessionwouldbringhimhappiness.Itwasratherthatheyearnedtogetclearofthetangle.Sodoesthesuicideyearn.Theimpulsesareakin,andthecrimeofsuicideliesratherinitsdisregardforthefeelingsofthosewhomweleavebehind.Confessionneedharmnoone—itcansatisfythattest—andthoughitwasun-English,andignoredbyourAnglicancathedral,Leonardhadarighttodecideuponit. Moreover,hetrustedMargaret.Hewantedherhardnessnow.Thatcold,intellectualnatureofherswouldbejust,ifunkind.Hewoulddowhatevershetoldhim,evenifhehadtoseeHelen.Thatwasthesupremepunishmentshewouldexact.AndperhapsshewouldtellhimhowHelenwas.Thatwasthesupremereward. HeknewnothingaboutMargaret,notevenwhethershewasmarriedtoMr.Wilcox,andtrackingherouttookseveraldays.ThateveninghetoiledthroughthewettoWickhamPlace,wherethenewflatswerenowappearing.Washealsothecauseoftheirmove?Weretheyexpelledfromsocietyonhisaccount?Thencetoapubliclibrary,butcouldfindnosatisfactorySchlegelinthedirectory.Onthemorrowhesearchedagain.HehungaboutoutsideMr.Wilcox’sofficeatlunchtime,and,astheclerkscameoutsaid,“Excuseme,sir,butisyourbossmarried?”Mostofthemstared,somesaid,“What’sthattoyou?”butone,whohadnotyetacquiredreticence,toldhimwhathewished.Leonardcouldnotlearntheprivateaddress.Thatnecessitatedmoretroublewithdirectoriesandtubes.DucieStreetwasnotdiscoveredtilltheMonday,thedaythatMargaretandherhusbandwentdownontheirhuntingexpeditiontoHowardsEnd. Hecalledataboutfouro’clock.Theweatherhadchanged,andthesunshonegailyontheornamentalsteps—blackandwhitemarbleintriangles.Leonardloweredhiseyestothemafterringingthebell.Hefeltincurioushealthdoorsseemedtobeopeningandshuttinginsidehisbody,andhehadbeenobligedtosleepsittingupinbed,withhisbackproppedagainstthewall.Whentheparlourmaidcamehecouldnotseeherfacethebrownrainhaddescendedsuddenly. “DoesMrs.Wilcoxlivehere?”heasked. “She’sout,”wastheanswer. “Whenwillshebeback?” “I’llask,”saidtheparlourmaid. Margarethadgiveninstructionsthatnoonewhomentionedhernameshouldeverberebuffed.Puttingthedooronthechain—forLeonard’sappearancedemandedthis—shewentthroughtothesmoking-room,whichwasoccupiedbyTibby.Tibbywasasleep.Hehadhadagoodlunch.CharlesWilcoxhadnotyetrunghimupforthedistractinginterview.Hesaiddrowsily:“Idon’tknow.Hilton.HowardsEnd.Whoisit?” “I’llask,sir.” “No,don’tbother.” “TheyhavetakenthecartoHowardsEnd,”saidtheparlourmaidtoLeonard. Hethankedher,andaskedwhereaboutsthatplacewas. “Youappeartowanttoknowagooddeal,”sheremarked.ButMargarethadforbiddenhertobemysterious.ShetoldhimagainstherbetterjudgmentthatHowardsEndwasinHertfords