CHAPTER XXI

Marywalkedtotheneareststationandreachedhomeinanincrediblyshortspaceoftime,justsomuch,indeed,aswasneededfortheintelligentunderstandingofthenewsoftheworldasthe“WestminsterGazette”reportedit.Withinafewminutesofopeningherdoor,shewasintrimforahardevening’swork.Sheunlockedadrawerandtookoutamanuscript,whichconsistedofaveryfewpages,entitled,inaforciblehand,“SomeAspectsoftheDemocraticState.”Theaspectsdwindledoutinacries-crossofblottedlinesintheverymiddleofasentence,andsuggestedthattheauthorhadbeeninterrupted,orconvincedofthefutilityofproceeding,withherpenintheair....Oh,yes,Ralphhadcomeinatthatpoint.Shescoredthatsheetveryeffectively,and,choosingafreshone,beganatagreatratewithageneralizationuponthestructureofhumansociety,whichwasagooddealbolderthanhercustom.Ralphhadtoldheroncethatshecouldn’twriteEnglish,whichaccountedforthosefrequentblotsandinsertionsbutsheputallthatbehindher,anddroveaheadwithsuchwordsascameherway,untilshehadaccomplishedhalfapageofgeneralizationandmightlegitimatelydrawbreath.Directlyherhandstoppedherbrainstoppedtoo,andshebegantolisten.Apaper-boyshouteddownthestreetanomnibusceasedandlurchedonagainwiththeheaveofdutyoncemoreshoulderedthedullnessofthesoundssuggestedthatafoghadrisensinceherreturn,if,indeed,afoghaspowertodeadensound,ofwhichfact,shecouldnotbesureatthepresentmoment.ItwasthesortoffactRalphDenhamknew.Atanyrate,itwasnoconcernofhers,andshewasabouttodipapenwhenherearwascaughtbythesoundofastepuponthestonestaircase.ShefolloweditpastMr.Chippen’schamberspastMr.Gibson’spastMr.Turner’safterwhichitbecamehersound.Apostman,awasherwoman,acircular,abill—shepresentedherselfwitheachoftheseperfectlynaturalpossibilitiesbut,tohersurprise,hermindrejectedeachoneofthemimpatiently,evenapprehensively.Thestepbecameslow,asitwasapttodoattheendofthesteepclimb,andMary,listeningfortheregularsound,wasfilledwithanintolerablenervousness.Leaningagainstthetable,shefelttheknockofherheartpushherbodyperceptiblybackwardsandforwards—astateofnervesastonishingandreprehensibleinastablewoman.Grotesquefanciestookshape.Alone,atthetopofthehouse,anunknownpersonapproachingnearerandnearer—howcouldsheescape?Therewasnowayofescape.Shedidnotevenknowwhetherthatoblongmarkontheceilingwasatrap-doortotheroofornot.Andifshegotontotheroof—well,therewasadropofsixtyfeetorsoontothepavement.Butshesatperfectlystill,andwhentheknocksounded,shegotupdirectlyandopenedthedoorwithouthesitation.Shesawatallfigureoutside,withsomethingominoustohereyesinthelookofit. “Whatdoyouwant?”shesaid,notrecognizingthefaceinthefitfullightofthestaircase. “Mary?I’mKatharineHilbery!” Mary’sself-possessionreturnedalmostexcessively,andherwelcomewasdecidedlycold,asifshemustrecoupherselfforthisridiculouswasteofemotion.Shemovedhergreen-shadedlamptoanothertable,andcovered“SomeAspectsoftheDemocraticState”withasheetofblotting-paper. “Whycan’ttheyleavemealone?”shethoughtbitterly,connectingKatharineandRalphinaconspiracytotakefromhereventhishourofsolitarystudy,eventhispoorlittledefenceagainsttheworld.And,asshesmootheddownthesheetofblotting-paperoverthemanuscript,shebracedherselftoresistKatharine,whosepresencestruckher,notmerelybyitsforce,asusual,butassomethinginthenatureofamenace. “You’reworking?”saidKatharine,withhesitation,perceivingthatshewasnotwelcome. “Nothingthatmatters,”Maryreplied,drawingforwardthebestofthechairsandpokingthefire. “Ididn’tknowyouhadtoworkafteryouhadlefttheoffice,”saidKatharine,inatonewhichgavetheimpressionthatshewasthinkingofsomethingelse,aswas,indeed,thecase. Shehadbeenpayingcallswithhermother,andinbetweenthecallsMrs.Hilberyhadrushedintoshopsandboughtpillow-casesandblotting-booksonnoperceptiblemethodforthefurnishingofKatharine’shouse.Katharinehadasenseofimpedimentaaccumulatingonallsidesofher.Shehadleftheratlength,andhadcomeontokeepanengagementtodinewithRodneyathisrooms.Butshedidnotmeantogettohimbeforeseveno’clock,andsohadplentyoftimetowalkalltheway