CHAPTER IX

“IreallybelieveI’mbewitched!Ionlywantthreesentences,yousee,somethingquitestraightforwardandcommonplace,andIcan’tfind‘em.” Shebegantopaceupanddowntheroom,snatchingupherdusterbutshewastoomuchannoyedtofindanyrelief,asyet,inpolishingthebacksofbooks. “Besides,”shesaid,givingthesheetshehadwrittentoKatharine,“Idon’tbelievethis’lldo.DidyourgrandfatherevervisittheHebrides,Katharine?”Shelookedinastrangelybeseechingwayatherdaughter.“MymindgotrunningontheHebrides,andIcouldn’thelpwritingalittledescriptionofthem.Perhapsitwoulddoatthebeginningofachapter.Chaptersoftenbeginquitedifferentlyfromthewaytheygoon,youknow.”Katharinereadwhathermotherhadwritten.Shemighthavebeenaschoolmastercriticizingachild’sessay.HerfacegaveMrs.Hilbery,whowatcheditanxiously,nogroundforhope. “It’sverybeautiful,”shestated,“but,yousee,mother,weoughttogofrompointtopoint—” “Oh,Iknow,”Mrs.Hilberyexclaimed.“Andthat’sjustwhatIcan’tdo.Thingskeepcomingintomyhead.Itisn’tthatIdon’tknoweverythingandfeeleverything(whodidknowhim,ifIdidn’t?),butIcan’tputitdown,yousee.There’sakindofblindspot,”shesaid,touchingherforehead,“there.AndwhenIcan’tsleepo’nights,IfancyIshalldiewithouthavingdoneit.” Fromexultationshehadpassedtothedepthsofdepressionwhichtheimaginationofherdeatharoused.ThedepressioncommunicateditselftoKatharine.Howimpotenttheywere,fiddlingaboutalldaylongwithpapers!Andtheclockwasstrikingelevenandnothingdone!Shewatchedhermother,nowrummaginginagreatbrass-boundboxwhichstoodbyhertable,butshedidnotgotoherhelp.Ofcourse,Katharinereflected,hermotherhadnowlostsomepaper,andtheywouldwastetherestofthemorninglookingforit.Shecasthereyesdowninirritation,andreadagainhermother’smusicalsentencesaboutthesilvergulls,andtherootsoflittlepinkflowerswashedbypellucidstreams,andthebluemistsofhyacinths,untilshewasstruckbyhermother’ssilence.Sheraisedhereyes.Mrs.Hilberyhademptiedaportfoliocontainingoldphotographsoverhertable,andwaslookingfromonetoanother. “Surely,Katharine,”shesaid,“themenwerefarhandsomerinthosedaysthantheyarenow,inspiteoftheirodiouswhiskers?LookatoldJohnGraham,inhiswhitewaistcoat—lookatUncleHarley.That’sPeterthemanservant,Isuppose.UncleJohnbroughthimbackfromIndia.” Katharinelookedathermother,butdidnotstiroranswer.Shehadsuddenlybecomeveryangry,witharagewhichtheirrelationshipmadesilent,andthereforedoublypowerfulandcritical.Shefeltalltheunfairnessoftheclaimwhichhermothertacitlymadetohertimeandsympathy,andwhatMrs.Hilberytook,Katharinethoughtbitterly,shewasted.Then,inaflash,sherememberedthatshehadstilltotellheraboutCyril’smisbehavior.Herangerimmediatelydissipateditselfitbrokelikesomewavethathasgathereditselfhighabovetherestthewaterswereresumedintotheseaagain,andKatharinefeltoncemorefullofpeaceandsolicitude,andanxiousonlythathermothershouldbeprotectedfrompain.Shecrossedtheroominstinctively,andsatonthearmofhermother’schair.Mrs.Hilberyleantherheadagainstherdaughter’sbody. “Whatisnobler,”shemused,turningoverthephotographs,“thantobeawomantowhomeveryoneturns,insorrowordifficulty?Howhavetheyoungwomenofyourgenerationimproveduponthat,Katharine?Icanseethemnow,sweepingoverthelawnsatMelburyHouse,intheirflouncesandfurbelows,socalmandstatelyandimperial(andthemonkeyandthelittleblackdwarffollowingbehind),asifnothingmatteredintheworldbuttobebeautifulandkind.Buttheydidmorethanwedo,Isometimesthink.TheyWERE,andthat’sbetterthandoing.Theyseemtomelikeships,likemajesticships,holdingontheirway,notshovingorpushing,notfrettedbylittlethings,asweare,buttakingtheirway,likeshipswithwhitesails.” Katharinetriedtointerruptthisdiscourse,buttheopportunitydidnotcome,andshecouldnotforbeartoturnoverthepagesofthealbuminwhichtheoldphotographswerestored.Thefacesofthesemenandwomenshoneforthwonderfullyafterthehubbuboflivingfaces,andseemed,ashermotherhadsaid,towearamarvelousdignityandcalm,asiftheyhadruledtheirkingdomsjustlyanddeservedgreatlove.Somewereofalmostincrediblebeauty,otherswereuglyenoughinaforcibleway,butnoneweredullorboredorinsignificant.Thesuperbstifffoldsofthecrinolinessuitedthewomenthecloaksandhatsofthegentlemenseemedfullofcharacter.OncemoreKatharinefelttheser