CHAPTER XVIII

tohimselftobewithher.Helosthissenseofallthatsurroundedhimallsubstantialthings—thehouroftheday,whatwehavedoneandareabouttodo,thepresenceofotherpeopleandthesupportwederivefromseeingtheirbeliefinacommonreality—allthisslippedfromhim.Sohemighthavefeltiftheearthhaddroppedfromhisfeet,andtheemptybluehadhungallroundhim,andtheairhadbeensteepedinthepresenceofonewoman.Thechirpofarobinontheboughabovehisheadawakenedhim,andhisawakenmentwasaccompaniedbyasigh.Herewastheworldinwhichhehadlivedheretheplowedfield,thehighroadyonder,andMary,strippingivyfromthetrees.Whenhecameupwithherhelinkedhisarmthroughhersandsaid: “Now,Mary,what’sallthisaboutAmerica?” Therewasabrotherlykindnessinhisvoicewhichseemedtohermagnanimous,whenshereflectedthatshehadcutshorthisexplanationsandshownlittleinterestinhischangeofplan.Shegavehimherreasonsforthinkingthatshemightprofitbysuchajourney,omittingtheonereasonwhichhadsetalltherestinmotion.Helistenedattentively,andmadenoattempttodissuadeher.Intruth,hefoundhimselfcuriouslyeagertomakecertainofhergoodsense,andacceptedeachfreshproofofitwithsatisfaction,asthoughithelpedhimtomakeuphismindaboutsomething.Sheforgotthepainhehadcausedher,andinplaceofitshebecameconsciousofasteadytideofwell-beingwhichharmonizedveryaptlywiththetrampoftheirfeetuponthedryroadandthesupportofhisarm.Thecomfortwasthemoreglowinginthatitseemedtobetherewardofherdeterminationtobehavetohimsimplyandwithoutattemptingtobeotherthanshewas.Insteadofmakingoutaninterestinthepoets,sheavoidedtheminstinctively,anddweltratherinsistentlyuponthepracticalnatureofhergifts. Inapracticalwaysheaskedforparticularsofhiscottage,whichhardlyexistedinhismind,andcorrectedhisvagueness. “Youmustseethatthere’swater,”sheinsisted,withanexaggerationofinterest.Sheavoidedaskinghimwhathemeanttodointhiscottage,and,atlast,whenallthepracticaldetailshadbeenthrashedoutasmuchaspossible,herewardedherbyamoreintimatestatement. “Oneoftherooms,”hesaid,“mustbemystudy,for,yousee,Mary,I’mgoingtowriteabook.”Herehewithdrewhisarmfromhers,lithispipe,andtheytrampedoninasagaciouskindofcomradeship,themostcompletetheyhadattainedinalltheirfriendship. “Andwhat’syourbooktobeabout?”shesaid,asboldlyasifshehadnevercometogriefwithRalphintalkingaboutbooks.HetoldherunhesitatinglythathemeanttowritethehistoryoftheEnglishvillagefromSaxondaystothepresenttime.Somesuchplanhadlainasaseedinhismindformanyyearsandnowthathehaddecided,inaflash,togiveuphisprofession,theseedgrewinthespaceoftwentyminutesbothtallandlusty.Hewassurprisedhimselfatthepositivewayinwhichhespoke.Itwasthesamewiththequestionofhiscottage.Thathadcomeintoexistence,too,inanunromanticshape—asquarewhitehousestandingjustoffthehighroad,nodoubt,withaneighborwhokeptapigandadozensquallingchildrenfortheseplanswereshornofallromanceinhismind,andthepleasurehederivedfromthinkingofthemwascheckeddirectlyitpassedaverysoberlimit.Soasensiblemanwhohaslosthischanceofsomebeautifulinheritancemighttreadoutthenarrowboundsofhisactualdwelling-place,andassurehimselfthatlifeissupportablewithinitsdemesne,onlyonemustgrowturnipsandcabbages,notmelonsandpomegranates.CertainlyRalphtooksomeprideintheresourcesofhismind,andwasinsensiblyhelpedtorighthimselfbyMary’strustinhim.Shewoundherivysprayroundherash-plant,andforthefirsttimeformanydays,whenalonewithRalph,setnospiesuponhermotives,sayings,andfeelings,butsurrenderedherselftocompletehappiness. Thustalking,witheasysilencesandsomepausestolookattheviewoverthehedgeandtodecideuponthespeciesofalittlegray-brownbirdslippingamongthetwigs,theywalkedintoLincoln,andafterstrollingupanddownthemainstreet,decideduponaninnwheretheroundedwindowsuggestedsubstantialfare,norweretheymistaken.Foroverahundredandfiftyyearshotjoints,potatoes,greens,andapplepuddingshadbeenservedtogenerationsofcountrygentlemen,andnow,sittingatatableinthehollowofthebowwindow,RalphandMarytooktheirshareofthisperennialfeast.Lookingacrossthejoint,half-waythroughthemeal,MarywonderedwhetherRalphwouldevercometolookquiteliketheotherpeopleintheroom.Wouldhebeabsorbedamongtheroundpinkfaces,prickedwithlittlewhitebristles,thecalvesfittedinshinybrownleather,theblack-and-whitechecksuits,whichweresprinkledaboutinthesameroomwiththem?Shehalfhopedsoshethoughtthatitwasonlyinhismindthathewasdifferent.Shedidnotwishhimtobetoodifferentfromotherpeople.Thewalkhadgivenhimaruddycolor,too,andhiseyeswerelitupbyasteady,honestlight,whichcouldnotmakethesimplestfarmerfeelillatease,orsuggesttothemostdevoutofclergymenadispositiontosneerathisfaith.Shelovedthesteepcliffofhisforehead,andcomparedittothebrowofayoungGreekhorseman,whoreinshishorsebacksosharplythatithalffallsonitshaunches.Healwaysseemedtoherlikearideronaspiritedhorse.Andtherewasanexaltationtoherinbeingwithhim,becausetherewasariskthathewouldnotbeabletokeeptotherightpaceamongotherpeople.Sittingoppositehimatthelittletableinthewindow,shecamebacktothatstateofcarelessexaltationwhichhadovercomeherwhentheyhaltedbythegate,butnowitwasaccompaniedbyasenseofsanityandsecurity,forshefeltthattheyhadafeelingincommonwhichscarcelyneededembodimentinwords.Howsilenthewas!leaninghisforeheadonhishand,nowandthen,andagainlookingsteadilyandgravelyatthebacksofthetwomenatthenexttable,withsolittleself-consciousnessthatshecouldalmostwatchhismindplacingonethoughtsolidlyuponthetopofanothershethoughtthatshecouldfeelhimthinking,throughtheshadeofherfingers,andshecouldanticipatetheexactmomentwhenhewouldputanendtohisthoughtandturnalittleinhischairandsay: “Well,Mary—?”invitinghertotakeupthethreadofthoughtwherehehaddroppedit. Andatthatverymomentheturnedjustso,andsaid: “Well,Mary?”withthecurioustouchofdiffidencewhichshelovedinhim. Shelaughed,andsheexplainedherlaughonthespurofthemomentbythelookofthepeopleinthestreetbelow.Therewasamotor-carwithanoldladyswathedinblueveils,andalady’smaidontheseatopposite,holdingaKingCharles’sspanieltherewasacountry-womanwheelingaperambulatorfullofsticksdownthemiddleoftheroadtherewasabailiffingaitersdiscussingthestateofthecattlemarketwithadissentingminister—soshedefinedthem. Sheranoverthislistwithoutanyfearthathercompanionwouldthinkhertrivial.Indeed,whetheritwasduetothewarmthoftheroomortothegoodroastbeef,orwhetherRalphhadachievedtheprocesswhichiscalledmakingupone’smind,certainlyhehadgivenuptestingthegoodsense,theindependentcharacter,theintelligenceshowninherremarks.Hehadbeenbuildingoneofthosepilesofthought,asramshackleandfantasticasaChinesepagoda,halffromwordsletfallbygentlemeningaiters,halffromthelitterinhisownmind,aboutduckshootingandlegalhistory,abouttheRomanoccupationofLincolnandtherelationsofcountrygentlemenwiththeirwives,when,fromallthisdisconnectedrambling,theresuddenlyformeditselfinhismindtheideathathewouldaskMarytomarryhim.Theideawassospontaneousthatitseemedtoshapeitselfofitsownaccordbeforehiseyes.Itwasthenthatheturnedroundandmadeuseofhisold,instinctivephrase: “Well,Mary—?” Asitpresenteditselftohimatfirst,theideawassonewandinterestingthathewashalfinclinedtoaddressit,withoutmoreado,toMaryherself.Hisnaturalinstincttodividehisthoughtscarefullyintotwodifferentclassesbeforeheexpressedthemtoherprevailed.Butashewatchedherlookingoutofthewindowanddescribingtheoldlady,thewomanwiththeperambulator,thebailiffandthedissentingminister,hiseyesfilledinvoluntarilywithtears.Hewouldhavelikedtolayhisheadonhershoulderandsob,whileshepartedhishairwithherfingersandsoothedhimandsaid: “There,there.Don’tcry!Tellmewhyyou’recrying—“andtheywouldclaspeachothertight,andherarmswouldholdhimlikehismother’s.Hefeltthathewasverylonely,andthathewasafraidoftheotherpeopleintheroom. “Howdamnablethisallis!”heexclaimedabruptly. “Whatareyoutalkingabout?”shereplied,rathervaguely,stilllookingoutofthewindow. Heresentedthisdividedattentionmorethan,perhaps,heknew,andhethoughthowMarywouldsoonbeonherwaytoAmerica. “Mary,”hesaid,“Iwanttotalktoyou.Haven’twenearlydone?Whydon’ttheytakeawaytheseplates?” Maryfelthisagitationwithoutlookingathimshefeltconvincedthatsheknewwhatitwasthathewishedtosaytoher. “They’llcomeallingoodtime,”shesaidandfeltitnecessarytodisplayherextremecalmnessbyliftingasalt-cellarandsweepingupalittleheapofbread-crumbs. “Iwanttoapologize,”Ralphcontinued,notquiteknowingwhathewasabouttosay,butfeelingsomecuriousinstinctwhichurgedhimtocommithimselfirrevocably,andtopreventthemomentofintimacyfrompassing. “IthinkI’vetreatedyouverybadly.Thatis,I’vetoldyoulies.DidyouguessthatIwaslyingtoyou?OnceinLincoln’sInnFieldsandagainto-dayonourwalk.Iamaliar,Mary.Didyouknowthat?Doyouthinkyoudoknowme?” “IthinkIdo,”shesaid. Atthispointthewaiterchangedtheirplates. “It’strueIdon’twantyoutogotoAmerica,”hesaid,lookingfixedlyatthetable-cloth.“Infact,myfeelingstowardsyouseemtobeutterlyanddamnablybad,”hesaidenergetically,althoughforcedtokeephisvoicelow. “IfIweren’taselfishbeastIshouldtellyoutohavenothingmoretodowithme.Andyet,Mary,inspiteofthefactthatIbelievewhatI’msaying,Ialsobelievethatit’sgoodweshouldknoweachother—theworldbeingwhatitis,yousee—”andbyanodofhisheadheindicatedtheotheroccupantsoftheroom,“for,ofcourse,inanidealstateofthings,inadecentcommunityeven,there’snodoubtyoushouldn’thaveanythingtodowithme—seriously,thatis.” “YouforgetthatI’mnotanidealcharacter,either,”saidMary,inthesamelowandveryearnesttones,which,inspiteofbeingalmostinaudible,surroundedtheirtablewithanatmosphereofconcentrationwhichwasquiteperceptibletotheotherdiners,whoglancedatthemnowandthenwithaqueermixtureo