CHAPTER THREE

"Thisisnotasmoking-carriage,"Mrs.Normanprotested,nervouslybutveryfeebly,asthedoorswungopenandapowerfullybuiltyoungmanjumpedin.Heseemednottohearher.ThetraindidnotstopbeforeitreachedCambridge,andhereshewasshutupalone,inarailwaycarriage,withayoungman. Shetouchedthespringofherdressing-case,andascertainedthatthescent-bottleandanovelfromMudie'swerebothhandy(theyoungmanwasstandingupwithhisbacktoher,puttinghisbagintherack).Shewouldthrowthescent-bottlewithherrighthand,shedecided,andtugthecommunicationcordwithherleft.Shewasfiftyyearsofage,andhadasonatcollege.Nevertheless,itisafactthatmenaredangerous.Shereadhalfacolumnofhernewspaperthenstealthilylookedovertheedgetodecidethequestionofsafetybytheinfallibletestofappearance….Shewouldliketoofferhimherpaper.ButdoyoungmenreadtheMorningPost?Shelookedtoseewhathewasreading—theDailyTelegraph. Takingnoteofsocks(loose),oftie(shabby),sheoncemorereachedhisface.Shedweltuponhismouth.Thelipswereshut.Theeyesbentdown,sincehewasreading.Allwasfirm,yetyouthful,indifferent,unconscious—asforknockingonedown!No,no,no!Shelookedoutofthewindow,smilingslightlynow,andthencamebackagain,forhedidn'tnoticeher.Grave,unconscious…nowhelookedup,pasther…heseemedsooutofplace,somehow,alonewithanelderlylady…thenhefixedhiseyes—whichwereblue—onthelandscape.Hehadnotrealizedherpresence,shethought.YetitwasnoneofHERfaultthatthiswasnotasmoking-carriage—ifthatwaswhathemeant. Nobodyseesanyoneasheis,letaloneanelderlyladysittingoppositeastrangeyoungmaninarailwaycarriage.Theyseeawhole—theyseeallsortsofthings—theyseethemselves….Mrs.NormannowreadthreepagesofoneofMr.Norris'snovels.Shouldshesaytotheyoungman(andafterallhewasjustthesameageasherownboy):"Ifyouwanttosmoke,don'tmindme"?No:heseemedabsolutelyindifferenttoherpresence…shedidnotwishtointerrupt. Butsince,evenatherage,shenotedhisindifference,presumablyhewasinsomewayorother—toheratleast—nice,handsome,interesting,distinguished,wellbuilt,likeherownboy?Onemustdothebestonecanwithherreport.Anyhow,thiswasJacobFlanders,agednineteen.Itisnousetryingtosumpeopleup.Onemustfollowhints,notexactlywhatissaid,noryetentirelywhatisdone—forinstance,whenthetraindrewintothestation,Mr.Flandersburstopenthedoor,andputthelady'sdressing-caseoutforher,saying,orrathermumbling:"Letme"veryshylyindeedhewasratherclumsyaboutit. "Who…"saidthelady,meetinghersonbutastherewasagreatcrowdontheplatformandJacobhadalreadygone,shedidnotfinishhersentence.AsthiswasCambridge,asshewasstayingtherefortheweek-end,asshesawnothingbutyoungmenalldaylong,instreetsandroundtables,thissightofherfellow-travellerwascompletelylostinhermind,asthecrookedpindroppedbyachildintothewishing-welltwirlsinthewateranddisappearsforever. Theysaytheskyisthesameeverywhere.Travellers,theshipwrecked,exiles,andthedyingdrawcomfortfromthethought,andnodoubtifyouareofamysticaltendency,consolation,andevenexplanation,showerdownfromtheunbrokensurface.ButaboveCambridge—anyhowabovetheroofofKing'sCollegeChapel—thereisadifference.Outatseaagreatcitywillcastabrightnessintothenight.Isitfancifultosupposethesky,washedintothecrevicesofKing'sCollegeChapel,lighter,thinner,moresparklingthantheskyelsewhere?DoesCambridgeburnnotonlyintothenight,butintotheday? Look,astheypassintoservice,howairilythegownsblowout,asthoughnothingdenseandcorporealwerewithin.Whatsculpturedfaces,whatcertainty,authoritycontrolledbypiety,althoughgreatbootsmarchunderthegowns.Inwhatorderlyprocessiontheyadvance.Thickwaxcandlesstanduprightyoungmenriseinwhitegownswhilethesubservienteaglebearsupforinspectionthegreatwhitebook. Aninclinedplaneoflightcomesaccuratelythrougheachwindow,purpleandyelloweveninitsmostdiffuseddust,while,whereitbreaksuponstone,thatstoneissoftlychalkedred,yellow,andpurple.Neithersnownorgreenery,winternorsummer,haspowerovertheoldstainedglass.Asthesidesofalanternprotecttheflamesothatitburnssteadyeveninthewildestnight—burnssteadyandgravelyilluminesthetree-trunks—soinsidetheChapelallwasorderly.Gravelysoundedthevoiceswiselytheorganreplied,asifbuttressinghumanfaithwiththeassentoftheelements.Thewhite-robedfigurescrossedfromsidetosidenowmountedsteps,nowdescended,allveryorderly. …Ifyoustandalanternunderatreeeveryinsectintheforestcreepsuptoit—acuriousassembly,sincethoughtheyscrambleandswingandknocktheirheadsagainsttheglass,theyseemtohavenopurpose—somethingsenselessinspiresthem.Onegetstiredofwatchingthem,astheyambleroundthelanternandblindlytapasifforadmittance,onelargetoadbeingthemostbesottedofanyandshoulderinghiswaythroughtherest.Ah,butwhat'sthat?Aterrifyingvolleyofpistol-shotsringsout—crackssharplyripplesspread—silencelapssmoothoversound.Atree—atreehasfallen,asortofdeathintheforest.Afterthat,thewindinthetreessoundsmelancholy. ButthisserviceinKing'sCollegeChapel—whyallowwomentotakepartinit?Surely,ifthemindwanders(andJacoblookedextraordinarilyvacant,hisheadthrownback,hishymn-bookopenatthewrongplace),ifthemindwandersitisbecauseseveralhatshopsandcupboardsuponcupboardsofcoloureddressesaredisplayeduponrush-bottomedchairs.Thoughheadsandbodiesmaybedevoutenough,onehasasenseofindividuals—somelikeblue,othersbrownsomefeathers,otherspansiesandforget-me-nots.Noonewouldthinkofbringingadogintochurch.Forthoughadogisallverywellonagravelpath,andshowsnodisrespecttoflowers,thewayhewandersdownanaisle,looking,liftingapaw,andapproachingapillarwithapurposethatmakesthebloodruncoldwithhorror(shouldyoubeoneofacongregation—alone,shynessisoutofthequestion),adogdestroystheservicecompletely.Sodothesewomen—thoughseparatelydevout,distinguished,andvouchedforbythetheology,mathematics,Latin,andGreekoftheirhusbands