CHAPTER XXXI
關燈
小
中
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wshowedherthatshewascrushingherglovesandthemapofNorfolkinagripsufficienttocrackamoresolidobject.Sherelaxedhergraspshelookedanxiouslyatthefacesofthepassers-bytoseewhethertheireyesrestedonherforamomentlongerthanwasnatural,orwithanycuriosity.Buthavingsmoothedouthergloves,anddonewhatshecouldtolookasusual,sheforgotspectators,andwasoncemoregivenuptoherdesperatedesiretofindRalphDenham.Itwasadesirenow—wild,irrational,unexplained,resemblingsomethingfeltinchildhood.Oncemoresheblamedherselfbitterlyforhercarelessness.ButfindingherselfoppositetheTubestation,shepulledherselfupandtookcounselswiftly,asofold.ItflasheduponherthatshewouldgoatoncetoMaryDatchet,andaskhertogiveherRalph’saddress.Thedecisionwasarelief,notonlyingivingheragoal,butinprovidingherwitharationalexcuseforherownactions.Itgaveheragoalcertainly,butthefactofhavingagoalledhertodwellexclusivelyuponherobsessionsothatwhensherangthebellofMary’sflat,shedidnotforamomentconsiderhowthisdemandwouldstrikeMary.ToherextremeannoyanceMarywasnotathomeacharwomanopenedthedoor.AllKatharinecoulddowastoaccepttheinvitationtowait.Shewaitedfor,perhaps,fifteenminutes,andspenttheminpacingfromoneendoftheroomtotheotherwithoutintermission.WhensheheardMary’skeyinthedoorshepausedinfrontofthefireplace,andMaryfoundherstandingupright,lookingatonceexpectantanddetermined,likeapersonwhohascomeonanerrandofsuchimportancethatitmustbebroachedwithoutpreface.
Maryexclaimedinsurprise.
“Yes,yes,”Katharinesaid,brushingtheseremarksaside,asiftheywereintheway.
“Haveyouhadtea?”
“Ohyes,”shesaid,thinkingthatshehadhadteahundredsofyearsago,somewhereorother.
Marypaused,tookoffhergloves,and,findingmatches,proceededtolightthefire.
Katharinecheckedherwithanimpatientmovement,andsaid:
“Don’tlightthefireforme....IwanttoknowRalphDenham’saddress.”
Shewasholdingapencilandpreparingtowriteontheenvelope.Shewaitedwithanimperiousexpression.
“TheAppleOrchard,MountAraratRoad,Highgate,”Marysaid,speakingslowlyandratherstrangely.
“Oh,Iremembernow!”Katharineexclaimed,withirritationatherownstupidity.“Isupposeitwouldn’ttaketwentyminutestodrivethere?”Shegatheredupherpurseandglovesandseemedabouttogo.
“Butyouwon’tfindhim,”saidMary,pausingwithamatchinherhand.Katharine,whohadalreadyturnedtowardsthedoor,stoppedandlookedather.
“Why?Whereishe?”sheasked.
“Hewon’thavelefthisoffice.”
“Buthehaslefttheoffice,”shereplied.“Theonlyquestioniswillhehavereachedhomeyet?HewenttoseemeatChelseaItriedtomeethimandmissedhim.Hewillhavefoundnomessagetoexplain.SoImustfindhim—assoonaspossible.”
Marytookinthesituationatherleisure.
“Butwhynottelephone?”shesaid.
Katharineimmediatelydroppedallthatshewasholdingherstrainedexpressionrelaxed,andexclaiming,“Ofcourse!Whydidn’tIthinkofthat!”sheseizedthetelephonereceiverandgavehernumber.Marylookedathersteadily,andthenlefttheroom.AtlengthKatharineheard,throughallthesuperimposedweightofLondon,themysterioussoundoffeetinherownhousemountingtothelittleroom,whereshecouldalmostseethepicturesandthebooksshelistenedwithextremeintentnesstothepreparatoryvibrations,andthenestablishedheridentity.
“HasMr.Denhamcalled?”
“Yes,miss.”
“Didheaskforme?”
“Yes.Wesaidyouwereout,miss.”
“Didheleaveanymessage?”
“No.Hewentaway.Abouttwentyminutesago,miss.”
Katharinehungupthereceiver.ShewalkedthelengthoftheroominsuchacutedisappointmentthatshedidnotatfirstperceiveMary’sabsence.Thenshecalledinaharshandperemptorytone:
“Mary.”
Marywastakingoffheroutdoorthingsinthebedroom.SheheardKatharinecallher.“Yes,”shesaid,“Ishan’tbeamoment.”Butthemomentprolongeditself,asifforsomereasonMaryfoundsatisfactioninmakingherselfnotonlytidy,butseemlyandornamented.Astageinherlifehadbeenaccomplishedinthelastmonthswhichleftitstracesforeveruponherbearing.Youth,andthebloomofyouth,hadreceded,leavingthepurposeofherfacetoshowitselfinthehollowercheeks,thefirmerlips,theeyesnolongerspontaneouslyobservingatrandom,butnarroweduponanendwhichwasnotnearathand.Thiswomanwasnowaserviceablehumanbeing,mistressofherowndestiny,andthus,bysomecombinationofideas,fittobeadornedwiththedignityofsilverchainsandglowingbrooches.Shecameinatherleisureandasked:“Well,didyougetananswer?”
“HehasleftChelseaalready,”Katharinereplied.
“Still,hewon’tbehomeyet,”saidMary.
KatharinewasoncemoreirresistiblydrawntogazeuponanimaginarymapofLondon,tofollowthetwistsandturnsofunnamedstreets.
“I’llringuphishomeandaskwhetherhe’sback.”Marycrossedtothetelephoneand,afteraseriesofbriefremarks,announced:
“No.Hissistersayshehasn’tcomebackyet.”
“Ah!”Sheappliedhereartothetelephoneoncemore.“They’vehadamessage.Hewon’tbebacktodinner.”
“Thenwhatishegoingtodo?”
Verypale,andwithherlargeeyesfixednotsomuchuponMaryasuponvistasofunrespondingblankness,KatharineaddressedherselfalsonotsomuchtoMaryastotheunrelentingspiritwhichnowappearedtomockherfromeveryquarterofhersurvey.
AfterwaitingalittletimeMaryremarkedindifferently:
“Ireallydon’tknow.”Slacklylyingbackinherarmchair,shewatchedthelittleflamesbeginningtocreepamongthecoalsindifferently,asifthey,too,wereverydistantandindifferent.
Katharinelookedatherindignantlyandrose.
“Possiblyhemaycomehere,”Marycontinued,withoutalteringtheabstracttoneofhervoice.“Itwouldbeworthyourwhiletowaitifyouwanttoseehimto-night.”Shebentforwardandtouchedthewood,sothattheflamesslippedinbetweentheintersticesofthecoal.
Katharinereflected.“I’llwaithalfanhour,”shesaid.
Maryrose,wenttothetable,spreadoutherpapersunderthegreen-shadedlampand,withanactionthatwasbecomingahabit,twistedalockofhairroundandroundinherfingers.Onceshelookedunperceivedathervisitor,whonevermoved,whosatsostill,witheyessointent,thatyoucouldalmostfancythatshewaswatchingsomething,somefacethatneverlookedupather.Maryfoundherselfunabletogoonwriting.Sheturnedhereyesaway,butonlytobeawareofthepresenceofwhatKatharinelookedat.Therewereghostsintheroom,andone,strangelyandsadly,wastheghostofherself.Theminuteswentby.
“Whatwouldbethetimenow?”saidKatharineatlast.Thehalf-hourwasnotquitespent.
“I’mgoingtogetdinnerready,”saidMary,risingfromhertable.
“ThenI’llgo,”saidKatharine.
“Whydon’tyoustay?Whereareyougoing?”
Katharinelookedroundtheroom,conveyingheruncertaintyinherglance.
“PerhapsImightfindhim,”shemused.
“Butwhyshoulditmatter?You’llseehimanotherday.”
Maryspoke,andintendedtospeak,cruellyenough.
“Iwaswrongtocomehere,”Katharinereplied.
Theireyesmetwithantagonism,andneitherflinched.
“Youhadaperfectrighttocomehere,”Maryanswered.
Aloudknockingatthedoorinterruptedthem.Marywenttoopenit,andreturningwithsomenoteorparcel,KatharinelookedawaysothatMarymightnotreadherdisappointment.
“Ofcourseyouhadarighttocome,”Maryrepeated,layingthenoteuponthetable.
“No,”saidKatharine.“Exceptthatwhenone’sdesperateonehasasortofright.Iamdesperate.HowdoIknowwhat’shappeningtohimnow?Hemaydoanything.Hemaywanderaboutthestreetsallnight.Anythingmayhappentohim.”
Shespokewithaself-abandonmentthatMaryhadneverseeninher.
“Youknowyouexaggerateyou’retalkingnonsense,”shesaidroughly.
“Mary,Imusttalk—Imusttellyou—”
“Youneedn’ttellmeanything,”Maryinterruptedher.“Can’tIseeformyself?”
“No,no,”Katharineexclaimed.“It’snotthat—”
Herlook,passingbeyondMary,beyondthevergeoftheroomandoutbeyondanywordsthatcameherway,wildlyandpassionately,convincedMarythatshe,atanyrate,couldnotfollowsuchaglancetoitsend.ShewasbaffledshetriedtothinkherselfbackagainintotheheightofherloveforRalph.Pressingherfingersuponhereyelids,shemurmured:
“YouforgetthatIlovedhimtoo.IthoughtIknewhim.Ididknowhim.”
Andyet,whathadsheknown?Shecouldnotrememberitanymore.Shepressedhereyeballsuntiltheystruckstarsandsunsintoherdarkness.Sheconvincedherselfthatshewasstirringamongashes.Shedesisted.Shewasastonishedatherdiscovery.ShedidnotloveRalphanymore.Shelookedbackdazedintotheroom,andhereyesresteduponthetablewithitslamp-litpapers.Thesteadyradianceseemedforasecondtohaveitscounterpartwithinhersheshuthereyessheopenedthemandlookedatthelampagainanotherloveburntintheplaceoftheoldone,orso,inamomentaryglanceofamazement,sheguessedbeforetherevelationwasoverandtheoldsurroundingsassertedthemselves.Sheleantinsilenceagainstthemantelpi
