uncharitableword
had
passed
her
lips
.
Yet
she
and
daily
life
were
out
of
focus
:
one
or
the
other
must
show
blurred
.
And
at
lunch
she
seemed
more
out
of
focus
than
usual
,
and
nearer
the
line
that
divides
life
from
a
life
that
may
be
of
greater
importance
.
"
You
will
admit
,
though
,
that
the
Continent
—
it
seems
silly
to
speak
of
'
the
Continent
,
'
but
really
it
is
all
more
like
itself
than
any
part
of
it
is
like
England
.
England
is
unique
.
Do
have
another
jelly
first
.
I
was
going
to
say
that
the
Continent
,
for
good
or
for
evil
,
is
interested
in
ideas
.
Its
Literature
and
Art
have
what
one
might
call
the
kink
of
the
unseen
about
them
,
and
this
persists
even
through
decadence
and
affectation
.
There
is
more
liberty
of
action
in
England
,
but
for
liberty
of
thought
go
to
bureaucratic
Prussia
.
People
will
there
discuss
with
humility
vital
questions
that
we
here
think
ourselves
too
good
to
touch
with
tongs
.
"
"
I
do
not
want
to
go
to
Prussian
"
said
Mrs.
Wilcox
—
"
not
even
to
see
that
interesting
view
that
you
were
describing
.
And
for
discussing
with
humility
I
am
too
old
.
We
never
discuss
anything
at
Howards
End
.
"
"
Then
you
ought
to
!
"
said
Margaret
.
"
Discussion
keeps
a
house
alive
.
It
cannot
stand
by
bricks
and
mortar
alone
.
"
"
It
cannot
stand
without
them
,
"
said
Mrs.
Wilcox
,
unexpectedly
catching
on
to
the
thought
,
and
rousing
,
for
the
first
and
last
time
,
a
faint
hope
in
the
breasts
of
the
delightful
people
.
"
It
cannot
stand
without
them
,
and
I
sometimes
think
—
But
I
cannot
expect
your
generation
to
agree
,
for
even
my
daughter
disagrees
with
me
here
.
"
"
Never
mind
us
or
her
.
Do
say
!
"
"
I
sometimes
think
that
it
is
wiser
to
leave
action
and
discussion
to
men
.
"
There
was
a
little
silence
.
"
One
admits
that
the
arguments
against
the
suffrage
are
extraordinarily
strong
,
"
said
a
girl
opposite
,
leaning
forward
and
crumbling
her
bread
.
"
Are
they
?
I
never
follow
any
arguments
.
I
am
only
too
thankful
not
to
have
a
vote
myself
.
"
"
We
did
n't
mean
the
vote
,
though
,
did
we
?
"
supplied
Margaret
.
"
Are
n't
we
differing
on
something
much
wider
,
Mrs.
Wilcox
?
Whether
women
are
to
remain
what
they
have
been
since
the
dawn
of
history
;
or
whether
,
since
men
have
moved
forward
so
far
,
they
too
may
move
forward
a
little
now
.
I
say
they
may
.
I
would
even
admit
a
biological
change
.
"
"
I
do
n't
know
,
I
do
n't
know
.
"
"
I
must
be
getting
back
to
my
overhanging
warehouse
,
"
said
the
man
.
"
They
've
turned
disgracefully
strict
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
also
rose
.
"
Oh
,
but
come
upstairs
for
a
little
.
Miss
Quested
plays
.
Do
you
like
MacDowell
?
Do
you
mind
him
only
having
two
noises
?
If
you
must
really
go
,
I
'll
see
you
out
.
Wo
n't
you
even
have
coffee
?
"
They
left
the
dining-room
,
closing
the
door
behind
them
,
and
as
Mrs.
Wilcox
buttoned
up
her
jacket
,
she
said
:
"
What
an
interesting
life
you
all
lead
in
London
!
"
"
No
,
we
do
n't
,
"
said
Margaret
,
with
a
sudden
revulsion
.
"
We
lead
the
lives
of
gibbering
monkeys
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
—
really
—
We
have
something
quiet
and
stable
at
the
bottom
.
We
really
have
.
All
my
friends
have
.
Do
n't
pretend
you
enjoyed
lunch
,
for
you
loathed
it
,
but
forgive
me
by
coming
again
,
alone
,
or
by
asking
me
to
you
.
"
"
I
am
used
to
young
people
,
"
said
Mrs.
Wilcox
,
and
with
each
word
she
spoke
the
outlines
of
known
things
grew
dim
.
"
I
hear
a
great
deal
of
chatter
at
home
,
for
we
,
like
you
,
entertain
a
great
deal
.
With
us
it
is
more
sport
and
politics
,
but
—
I
enjoyed
my
lunch
very
much
,
Miss
Schlegel
,
dear
,
and
am
not
pretending
,
and
only
wish
I
could
have
joined
in
more
.
For
one
thing
,
I
'm
not
particularly
well
just
today
.
For
another
,
you
younger
people
move
so
quickly
that
it
dazes
me
.
Charles
is
the
same
,
Dolly
the
same
.
But
we
are
all
in
the
same
boat
,
old
and
young
.
I
never
forget
that
.
"
They
were
silent
for
a
moment
.
Then
,
with
a
newborn
emotion
,
they
shook
hands
.
The
conversation
ceased
suddenly
when
Margaret
re-entered
the
dining-room
:
her
friends
had
been
talking
over
her
new
friend
,
and
had
dismissed
her
as
uninteresting
.
Chapter
10
Several
days
passed
.
Was
Mrs.
Wilcox
one
of
the
unsatisfactory
people
—
there
are
many
of
them
—
who
dangle
intimacy
and
then
withdraw
it
?
They
evoke
our
interests
and
affections
,
and
keep
the
life
of
the
spirit
dawdling
round
them
.
Then
they
withdraw
.
When
physical
passion
is
involved
,
there
is
a
definite
name
for
such
behaviour
—
flirting
—
and
if
carried
far
enough
it
is
punishable
by
law
.
But
no
law
—
not
public
opinion
even
—
punishes
those
who
coquette
with
friendship
,
though
the
dull
ache
that
they
inflict
,
the
sense
of
misdirected
effort
and
exhaustion
,
may
be
as
intolerable
.
Was
she
one
of
these
?
Margaret
feared
so
at
first
,
for
,
with
a
Londoner
's
impatience
,
she
wanted
everything
to
be
settled
up
immediately
.
She
mistrusted
the
periods
of
quiet
that
are
essential
to
true
growth
.
Desiring
to
book
Mrs.
Wilcox
as
a
friend
,
she
pressed
on
the
ceremony
,
pencil
,
as
it
were
,
in
hand
,
pressing
the
more
because
the
rest
of
the
family
were
away
,
and
the
opportunity
seemed
favourable
.
But
the
elder
woman
would
not
be
hurried
.
She
refused
to
fit
in
with
the
Wickham
Place
set
,
or
to
reopen
discussion
of
Helen
and
Paul
,
whom
Margaret
would
have
utilized
as
a
short-cut
.
She
took
her
time
,
or
perhaps
let
time
take
her
,
and
when
the
crisis
did
come
all
was
ready
.
The
crisis
opened
with
a
message
:
would
Miss
Schlegel
come
shopping
?
Christmas
was
nearing
,
and
Mrs.
Wilcox
felt
behind-hand
with
the
presents
.
She
had
taken
some
more
days
in
bed
,
and
must
make
up
for
lost
time
.
Margaret
accepted
,
and
at
eleven
o'clock
one
cheerless
morning
they
started
out
in
a
brougham
.
"
First
of
all
,
"
began
Margaret
,
"
we
must
make
a
list
and
tick
off
the
people
's
names
.
My
aunt
always
does
,
and
this
fog
may
thicken
up
any
moment
.
Have
you
any
ideas
?
"
"
I
thought
we
would
go
to
Harrod
's
or
the
Haymarket
Stores
,
"
said
Mrs.
Wilcox
rather
hopelessly
.
"
Everything
is
sure
to
be
there
.
I
am
not
a
good
shopper
.
The
din
is
so
confusing
,
and
your
aunt
is
quite
right
—
one
ought
to
make
a
list
.
Take
my
notebook
,
then
,
and
write
your
own
name
at
the
top
of
the
page
.
"
"
Oh
,
hooray
!
"
said
Margaret
,
writing
it
.
"
How
very
kind
of
you
to
start
with
me
!
"
But
she
did
not
want
to
receive
anything
expensive
.
Their
acquaintance
was
singular
rather
than
intimate
,
and
she
divined
that
the
Wilcox
clan
would
resent
any
expenditure
on
outsiders
;
the
more
compact
families
do
.
She
did
not
want
to
be
thought
a
second
Helen
,
who
would
snatch
presents
since
she
could
not
snatch
young
men
,
nor
to
be
exposed
,
like
a
second
Aunt
Juley
,
to
the
insults
of
Charles
.
A
certain
austerity
of
demeanour
was
best
,
and
she
added
:
"
I
do
n't
really
want
a
Yuletide
gift
,
though
.
In
fact
,
I
'd
rather
not
.
"
"
Why
?
"
"
Because
I
've
odd
ideas
about
Christmas
.
Because
I
have
all
that
money
can
buy
.
I
want
more
people
,
but
no
more
things
.
"
"
I
should
like
to
give
you
something
worth
your
acquaintance
,
Miss
Schlegel
,
in
memory
of
your
kindness
to
me
during
my
lonely
fortnight
.
It
has
so
happened
that
I
have
been
left
alone
,
and
you
have
stopped
me
from
brooding
.
I
am
too
apt
to
brood
.
"
"
If
that
is
so
,
"
said
Margaret
,
"
if
I
have
happened
to
be
of
use
to
you
,
which
I
did
n't
know
,
you
cannot
pay
me
back
with
anything
tangible
.
"
"
I
suppose
not
,
but
one
would
like
to
.
Perhaps
I
shall
think
of
something
as
we
go
about
.
"
Her
name
remained
at
the
head
of
the
list
,
but
nothing
was
written
opposite
it
.
They
drove
from
shop
to
shop
.
The
air
was
white
,
and
when
they
alighted
it
tasted
like
cold
pennies
.
At
times
they
passed
through
a
clot
of
grey
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
's
vitality
was
low
that
morning
,
and
it
was
Margaret
who
decided
on
a
horse
for
this
little
girl
,
a
golliwog
for
that
,
for
the
rector
's
wife
a
copper
warming-tray
.
"
We
always
give
the
servants
money
.
"
"
Yes
,
do
you
,
yes
,
much
easier
,
"
replied
Margaret
,
but
felt
the
grotesque
impact
of
the
unseen
upon
the
seen
,
and
saw
issuing
from
a
forgotten
manger
at
Bethlehem
this
torrent
of
coins
and
toys
.
Vulgarity
reigned
.
Public-houses
,
besides
their
usual
exhortation
against
temperance
reform
,
invited
men
to
"
Join
our
Christmas
goose
club
"
—
one
bottle
of
gin
,
etc.
,
or
two
,
according
to
subscription
.
A
poster
of
a
woman
in
tights
heralded
the
Christmas
pantomime
,
and
little
red
devils
,
who
had
come
in
again
that
year
,
were
prevalent
upon
the
Christmas-cards
.
Margaret
was
no
morbid
idealist
.
She
did
not
wish
this
spate
of
business
and
self-advertisement
checked
.
It
was
only
the
occasion
of
it
that
struck
her
with
amazement
annually
.
How
many
of
these
vacillating
shoppers
and
tired
shop-assistants
realized
that
it
was
a
divine
event
that
drew
them
together
?
She
realized
it
,
though
standing
outside
in
the
matter
.
She
was
not
a
Christian
in
the
accepted
sense
;
she
did
not
believe
that
God
had
ever
worked
among
us
as
a
young
artisan
.
These
people
,
or
most
of
them
,
believed
it
,
and
if
pressed
,
would
affirm
it
in
words
.
But
the
visible
signs
of
their
belief
were
Regent
Street
or
Drury
Lane
,
a
little
mud
displaced
,
a
little
money
spent
,
a
little
food
cooked
,
eaten
,
and
forgotten
.
Inadequate
.
But
in
public
who
shall
express
the
unseen
adequately
?
It
is
private
life
that
holds
out
the
mirror
to
infinity
;
personal
intercourse
,
and
that
alone
,
that
ever
hints
at
a
personality
beyond
our
daily
vision
.
"
No
,
I
do
like
Christmas
on
the
whole
,
"
she
announced
.
"
In
its
clumsy
way
,
it
does
approach
Peace
and
Goodwill
.
But
oh
,
it
is
clumsier
every
year
.
"
"
Is
it
?
I
am
only
used
to
country
Christmases
.
"
"
We
are
usually
in
London
,
and
play
the
game
with
vigour
—
carols
at
the
Abbey
,
clumsy
midday
meal
,
clumsy
dinner
for
the
maids
,
followed
by
Christmas-tree
and
dancing
of
poor
children
,
with
songs
from
Helen
.
The
drawing-room
does
very
well
for
that
.
We
put
the
tree
in
the
powder-closet
,
and
draw
a
curtain
when
the
candles
are
lighted
,
and
with
the
looking-glass
behind
it
looks
quite
pretty
.
I
wish
we
might
have
a
powder-closet
in
our
next
house
.
Of
course
,
the
tree
has
to
be
very
small
,
and
the
presents
do
n't
hang
on
it
.
No
;
the
presents
reside
in
a
sort
of
rocky
landscape
made
of
crumpled
brown
paper
.
"
"
You
spoke
of
your
'
next
house
,
'
Miss
Schlegel
.
Then
are
you
leaving
Wickham
Place
?
"
"
Yes
,
in
two
or
three
years
,
when
the
lease
expires
.
We
must
.
"
"
Have
you
been
there
long
?
"
"
All
our
lives
.
"
"
You
will
be
very
sorry
to
leave
it
.
"
"
I
suppose
so
.
We
scarcely
realize
it
yet
.
My
father
—
"
She
broke
off
,
for
they
had
reached
the
stationery
department
of
the
Haymarket
Stores
,
and
Mrs.
Wilcox
wanted
to
order
some
private
greeting
cards
.
"
If
possible
,
something
distinctive
,
"
she
sighed
.
At
the
counter
she
found
a
friend
,
bent
on
the
same
errand
,
and
conversed
with
her
insipidly
,
wasting
much
time
.
"
My
husband
and
our
daughter
are
motoring
.
"
"
Bertha
too
?
Oh
,
fancy
,
what
a
coincidence
!
"
Margaret
,
though
not
practical
,
could
shine
in
such
company
as
this
.
While
they
talked
,
she
went
through
a
volume
of
specimen
cards
,
and
submitted
one
for
Mrs.
Wilcox
's
inspection
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
was
delighted
—
so
original
,
words
so
sweet
;
she
would
order
a
hundred
like
that
,
and
could
never
be
sufficiently
grateful
.
Then
,
just
as
the
assistant
was
booking
the
order
,
she
said
:
"
Do
you
know
,
I
'll
wait
.
On
second
thoughts
,
I
'll
wait
.
There
's
plenty
of
time
still
,
is
n't
there
,
and
I
shall
be
able
to
get
Evie
's
opinion
.
"
They
returned
to
the
carriage
by
devious
paths
;
when
they
were
in
,
she
said
,
"
But
could
n't
you
get
it
renewed
?
"
"
I
beg
your
pardon
?
"
asked
Margaret
.
"
The
lease
,
I
mean
.
"
"
Oh
,
the
lease
!
Have
you
been
thinking
of
that
all
the
time
?
How
very
kind
of
you
!
"
"
Surely
something
could
be
done
.
"
"
No
;
values
have
risen
too
enormously
.
They
mean
to
pull
down
Wickham
Place
,
and
build
flats
like
yours
.
"
"
But
how
horrible
!
"
"
Landlords
are
horrible
.
"
Then
she
said
vehemently
:
"
It
is
monstrous
,
Miss
Schlegel
;
it
is
n't
right
.
I
had
no
idea
that
this
was
hanging
over
you
.
I
do
pity
you
from
the
bottom
of
my
heart
.
To
be
parted
from
your
house
,
your
father
's
house
—
it
ought
n't
to
be
allowed
.
It
is
worse
than
dying
.
I
would
rather
die
than
—
Oh
,
poor
girls
!
Can
what
they
call
civilization
be
right
,
if
people
may
n't
die
in
the
room
where
they
were
born
?
My
dear
,
I
am
so
sorry
—
"
Margaret
did
not
know
what
to
say
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
had
been
overtired
by
the
shopping
,
and
was
inclined
to
hysteria
.
"
Howards
End
was
nearly
pulled
down
once
.
It
would
have
killed
me
.
"
"
Howards
End
must
be
a
very
different
house
to
ours
.
We
are
fond
of
ours
,
but
there
is
nothing
distinctive
about
it
.
As
you
saw
,
it
is
an
ordinary
London
house
.
We
shall
easily
find
another
.
"
"
So
you
think
.
"
"
Again
my
lack
of
experience
,
I
suppose
!
"
said
Margaret
,
easing
away
from
the
subject
.
"
I
ca
n't
say
anything
when
you
take
up
that
line
,
Mrs.
Wilcox
.
I
wish
I
could
see
myself
as
you
see
me
—
foreshortened
into
a
backfisch
.
Quite
the
ingénue
.
Very
charming
—
wonderfully
well
read
for
my
age
,
but
incapable
—
"
Mrs.
Wilcox
would
not
be
deterred
.
"
Come
down
with
me
to
Howards
End
now
,
"
she
said
,
more
vehemently
than
ever
.
"
I
want
you
to
see
it
.
You
have
never
seen
it
.
I
want
to
hear
what
you
say
about
it
,
for
you
do
put
things
so
wonderfully
.
"
Margaret
glanced
at
the
pitiless
air
and
then
at
the
tired
face
of
her
companion
.
"
Later
on
I
should
love
it
,
"
she
continued
,
"
but
it
's
hardly
the
weather
for
such
an
expedition
,
and
we
ought
to
start
when
we
're
fresh
.
Is
n't
the
house
shut
up
,
too
?
"
She
received
no
answer
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
appeared
to
be
annoyed
.
"
Might
I
come
some
other
day
?
"
Mrs.
Wilcox
bent
forward
and
tapped
the
glass
.
"
Back
to
Wickham
Place
,
please
!
"
was
her
order
to
the
coachman
.
Margaret
had
been
snubbed
.
"
A
thousand
thanks
,
Miss
Schlegel
,
for
all
your
help
.
"
"
Not
at
all
.
"
"
It
is
such
a
comfort
to
get
the
presents
off
my
mind
—
the
Christmas-cards
especially
.
I
do
admire
your
choice
.
"
It
was
her
turn
to
receive
no
answer
.
In
her
turn
Margaret
became
annoyed
.
"
My
husband
and
Evie
will
be
back
the
day
after
tomorrow
.
That
is
why
I
dragged
you
out
shopping
today
.
I
stayed
in
town
chiefly
to
shop
,
but
got
through
nothing
,
and
now
he
writes
that
they
must
cut
their
tour
short
,
the
weather
is
so
bad
,
and
the
police-traps
have
been
so
bad
—
nearly
as
bad
as
in
Surrey
.
Ours
is
such
a
careful
chauffeur
,
and
my
husband
feels
it
particularly
hard
that
they
should
be
treated
like
roadhogs
.
"
"
Why
?
"
"
Well
,
naturally
he
—
he
is
n't
a
road-hog
.
"
"
He
was
exceeding
the
speed-limit
,
I
conclude
.
He
must
expect
to
suffer
with
the
lower
animals
.
"
Mrs.
Wilcox
was
silenced
.
In
growing
discomfort
they
drove
homewards
.
The
city
seemed
Satanic
,
the
narrower
streets
oppressing
like
the
galleries
of
a
mine
.
No
harm
was
done
by
the
fog
to
trade
,
for
it
lay
high
,
and
the
lighted
windows
of
the
shops
were
thronged
with
customers
.
It
was
rather
a
darkening
of
the
spirit
which
fell
back
upon
itself
,
to
find
a
more
grievous
darkness
within
.
Margaret
nearly
spoke
a
dozen
times
,
but
something
throttled
her
.
She
felt
petty
and
awkward
,
and
her
meditations
on
Christmas
grew
more
cynical
.
Peace
?
It
may
bring
other
gifts
,
but
is
there
a
single
Londoner
to
whom
Christmas
is
peaceful
?
The
craving
for
excitement
and
for
elaboration
has
ruined
that
blessing
.
Goodwill
?
Had
she
seen
any
example
of
it
in
the
hordes
of
purchasers
?
Or
in
herself
.
She
had
failed
to
respond
to
this
invitation
merely
because
it
was
a
little
queer
and
imaginative
—
she
,
whose
birthright
it
was
to
nourish
imagination
!
Better
to
have
accepted
,
to
have
tired
themselves
a
little
by
the
journey
,
than
coldly
to
reply
,
"
Might
I
come
some
other
day
?
"
Her
cynicism
left
her
.
There
would
be
no
other
day
.
This
shadowy
woman
would
never
ask
her
again
.
They
parted
at
the
Mansions
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
went
in
after
due
civilities
,
and
Margaret
watched
the
tall
,
lonely
figure
sweep
up
the
hall
to
the
lift
.
As
the
glass
doors
closed
on
it
she
had
the
sense
of
an
imprisonment
.
The
beautiful
head
disappeared
first
,
still
buried
in
the
muff
,
the
long
trailing
skirt
followed
.
A
woman
of
undefinable
rarity
was
going
up
heaven-ward
,
like
a
specimen
in
a
bottle
.
And
into
what
a
heaven
—
a
vault
as
of
hell
,
sooty
black
,
from
which
soots
descended
!
At
lunch
her
brother
,
seeing
her
inclined
for
silence
,
insisted
on
talking
.
Tibby
was
not
ill-natured
,
but
from
babyhood
something
drove
him
to
do
the
unwelcome
and
the
unexpected
.
Now
he
gave
her
a
long
account
of
the
day-school
that
he
sometimes
patronized
.
The
account
was
interesting
,
and
she
had
often
pressed
him
for
it
before
,
but
she
could
not
attend
now
,
for
her
mind
was
focussed
on
the
invisible
.
She
discerned
that
Mrs.
Wilcox
,
though
a
loving
wife
and
mother
,
had
only
one
passion
in
life
—
her
house
—
and
that
the
moment
was
solemn
when
she
invited
a
friend
to
share
this
passion
with
her
.
To
answer
"
another
day
"
was
to
answer
as
a
fool
.
"
Another
day
"
will
do
for
brick
and
mortar
,
but
not
for
the
Holy
of
Holies
into
which
Howards
End
had
been
transfigured
.
Her
own
curiosity
was
slight
.
She
had
heard
more
than
enough
about
it
in
the
summer
.
The
nine
windows
,
the
vine
,
and
the
wych-elm
had
no
pleasant
connections
for
her
,
and
she
would
have
preferred
to
spend
the
afternoon
at
a
concert
.
But
imagination
triumphed
.
While
her
brother
held
forth
she
determined
to
go
,
at
whatever
cost
,
and
to
compel
Mrs.
Wilcox
to
go
,
too
.
When
lunch
was
over
she
stepped
over
to
the
flats
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
had
just
gone
away
for
the
night
.
Margaret
said
that
it
was
of
no
consequence
,
hurried
downstairs
,
and
took
a
hansom
to
King
's
Cross
.
She
was
convinced
that
the
escapade
was
important
,
though
it
would
have
puzzled
her
to
say
why
.
There
was
a
question
of
imprisonment
and
escape
,
and
though
she
did
not
know
the
time
of
the
train
,
she
strained
her
eyes
for
the
St.
Pancras
'
clock
.
Then
the
clock
of
King
's
Cross
swung
into
sight
,
a
second
moon
in
that
infernal
sky
,
and
her
cab
drew
up
at
the
station
.
There
was
a
train
for
Hilton
in
five
minutes
.
She
took
a
ticket
,
asking
in
her
agitation
for
a
single
.
As
she
did
so
,
a
grave
and
happy
voice
saluted
her
and
thanked
her
.
"
I
will
come
if
I
still
may
,
"
said
Margaret
,
laughing
nervously
.
"
You
are
coming
to
sleep
,
dear
,
too
.
It
is
in
the
morning
that
my
house
is
most
beautiful
.
You
are
coming
to
stop
.
I
cannot
show
you
my
meadow
properly
except
at
sunrise
.
These
fogs
"
—
she
pointed
at
the
station
roof
—
"
never
spread
far
.
I
dare
say
they
are
sitting
in
the
sun
in
Hertfordshire
,
and
you
will
never
repent
joining
them
.
"
I
shall
never
repent
joining
you
.
"
"
It
is
the
same
.
"
They
began
the
walk
up
the
long
platform
.
Far
at
its
end
stood
the
train
,
breasting
the
darkness
without
.
They
never
reached
it
.
Before
imagination
could
triumph
,
there
were
cries
of
"
Mother
!
Mother
!
"
and
a
heavy-browed
girl
darted
out
of
the
cloak-room
and
seized
Mrs.
Wilcox
by
the
arm
.
"
Evie
!
"
she
gasped
.
"
Evie
,
my
pet
—
"
The
girl
called
,
"
Father
!
I
say
!
look
who
's
here
.
"
"
Evie
,
dearest
girl
,
why
are
n't
you
in
Yorkshire
?
"
"
No
—
motor
smash
—
changed
plans
—
Father
's
coming
.
"
"
Why
,
Ruth
!
"
cried
Mr.
Wilcox
,
joining
them
.
"
What
in
the
name
of
all
that
's
wonderful
are
you
doing
here
,
Ruth
?
"
Mrs.
Wilcox
had
recovered
herself
.
"
Oh
,
Henry
dear
!
—
here
's
a
lovely
surprise
—
but
let
me
introduce
—
but
I
think
you
know
Miss
Schlegel
.
"
"
Oh
,
yes
,
"
he
replied
,
not
greatly
interested
.
"
But
how
's
yourself
,
Ruth
?
"
"
Fit
as
a
fiddle
,
"
she
answered
gaily
.
"
So
are
we
and
so
was
our
car
,
which
ran
A-1
as
far
as
Ripon
,
but
there
a
wretched
horse
and
cart
which
a
fool
of
a
driver
—
"
"
Miss
Schlegel
,
our
little
outing
must
be
for
another
day
.
"
"
I
was
saying
that
this
fool
of
a
driver
,
as
the
policeman
himself
admits
—
"
"
Another
day
,
Mrs.
Wilcox
.
Of
course
.
"
"
—
But
as
we
've
insured
against
third
party
risks
,
it
wo
n't
so
much
matter
—
"
"
—
Cart
and
car
being
practically
at
right
angles
—
"
The
voices
of
the
happy
family
rose
high
.
Margaret
was
left
alone
.
No
one
wanted
her
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
walked
out
of
King
's
Cross
between
her
husband
and
her
daughter
,
listening
to
both
of
them
.
Chapter
11
The
funeral
was
over
.
The
carriages
rolled
away
through
the
soft
mud
,
and
only
the
poor
remained
.
They
approached
to
the
newly-dug
shaft
and
looked
their
last
at
the
coffin
,
now
almost
hidden
beneath
the
spadefuls
of
clay
.
It
was
their
moment
.
Most
of
them
were
women
from
the
dead
woman
's
district
,
to
whom
black
garments
had
been
served
out
by
Mr.
Wilcox
's
orders
.
Pure
curiosity
had
brought
others
.
They
thrilled
with
the
excitement
of
a
death
,
and
of
a
rapid
death
,
and
stood
in
groups
or
moved
between
the
graves
,
like
drops
of
ink
.
The
son
of
one
of
them
,
a
wood-cutter
,
was
perched
high
above
their
heads
,
pollarding
one
of
the
churchyard
elms
.
From
where
he
sat
he
could
see
the
village
of
Hilton
,
strung
upon
the
North
Road
,
with
its
accreting
suburbs
;
the
sunset
beyond
,
scarlet
and
orange
,
winking
at
him
beneath
brows
of
grey
;
the
church
;
the
plantations
;
and
behind
him
an
unspoilt
country
of
fields
and
farms
.
But
he
,
too
,
was
rolling
the
event
luxuriously
in
his
mouth
.
He
tried
to
tell
his
mother
down
below
all
that
he
had
felt
when
he
saw
the
coffin
approaching
:
how
he
could
not
leave
his
work
,
and
yet
did
not
like
to
go
on
with
it
;
how
he
had
almost
slipped
out
of
the
tree
,
he
was
so
upset
;
the
rooks
had
cawed
,
and
no
wonder
—
it
was
as
if
rooks
knew
too
.
His
mother
claimed
the
prophetic
power
herself
—
she
had
seen
a
strange
look
about
Mrs.
Wilcox
for
some
time
.
London
had
done
the
mischief
,
said
others
.
She
had
been
a
kind
lady
;
her
grandmother
had
been
kind
,
too
—
a
plainer
person
,
but
very
kind
.
Ah
,
the
old
sort
was
dying
out
!
Mr.
Wilcox
,
he
was
a
kind
gentleman
.
They
advanced
to
the
topic
again
and
again
,
dully
,
but
with
exaltation
.
The
funeral
of
a
rich
person
was
to
them
what
the
funeral
of
Alcestis
or
Ophelia
is
to
the
educated
.
It
was
Art
;
though
remote
from
life
,
it
enhanced
life
's
values
,
and
they
witnessed
it
avidly
.
The
grave-diggers
,
who
had
kept
up
an
undercurrent
of
disapproval
—
they
disliked
Charles
;
it
was
not
a
moment
to
speak
of
such
things
,
but
they
did
not
like
Charles
Wilcox
—
the
grave-diggers
finished
their
work
and
piled
up
the
wreaths
and
crosses
above
it
.
The
sun
set
over
Hilton
:
the
grey
brows
of
the
evening
flushed
a
little
,
and
were
cleft
with
one
scarlet
frown
.
Chattering
sadly
to
each
other
,
the
mourners
passed
through
the
lych-gate
and
traversed
the
chestnut
avenues
that
led
down
to
the
village
.
The
young
wood-cutter
stayed
a
little
longer
,
poised
above
the
silence
and
swaying
rhythmically
.
At
last
the
bough
fell
beneath
his
saw
.
With
a
grunt
,
he
descended
,
his
thoughts
dwelling
no
longer
on
death
,
but
on
love
,
for
he
was
mating
.
He
stopped
as
he
passed
the
new
grave
;
a
sheaf
of
tawny
chrysanthemums
had
caught
his
eye
.
"
They
did
n't
ought
to
have
coloured
flowers
at
buryings
,
"
he
reflected
.
Trudging
on
a
few
steps
,
he
stopped
again
,
looked
furtively
at
the
dusk
,
turned
back
,
wrenched
a
chrysanthemum
from
the
sheaf
,
and
hid
it
in
his
pocket
.
After
him
came
silence
absolute
.
The
cottage
that
abutted
on
the
churchyard
was
empty
,
and
no
other
house
stood
near
.
Hour
after
hour
the
scene
of
the
interment
remained
without
an
eye
to
witness
it
.
Clouds
drifted
over
it
from
the
west
;
or
the
church
may
have
been
a
ship
,
high-prowed
,
steering
with
all
its
company
towards
infinity
.
Towards
morning
the
air
grew
colder
,
the
sky
clearer
,
the
surface
of
the
earth
hard
and
sparkling
above
the
prostrate
dead
.
The
wood-cutter
,
returning
after
a
night
of
joy
,
reflected
:
"
They
lilies
,
they
chrysants
;
it
's
a
pity
I
did
n't
take
them
all
.
"
Up
at
Howards
End
they
were
attempting
breakfast
.
Charles
and
Evie
sat
in
the
dining-room
,
with
Mrs.
Charles
.
Their
father
,
who
could
not
bear
to
see
a
face
,
breakfasted
upstairs
.
He
suffered
acutely
.
Pain
came
over
him
in
spasms
,
as
if
it
was
physical
,
and
even
while
he
was
about
to
eat
,
his
eyes
would
fill
with
tears
,
and
he
would
lay
down
the
morsel
untasted
.
He
remembered
his
wife
's
even
goodness
during
thirty
years
.
Not
anything
in
detail
—
not
courtship
or
early
raptures
—
but
just
the
unvarying
virtue
,
that
seemed
to
him
a
woman
's
noblest
quality
.
So
many
women
are
capricious
,
breaking
into
odd
flaws
of
passion
or
frivolity
.
Not
so
his
wife
.
Year
after
year
,
summer
and
winter
,
as
bride
and
mother
,
she
had
been
the
same
,
he
had
always
trusted
her
.
Her
tenderness
!
Her
innocence
!
The
wonderful
innocence
that
was
hers
by
the
gift
of
God
.
Ruth
knew
no
more
of
worldly
wickedness
and
wisdom
than
did
the
flowers
in
her
garden
,
or
the
grass
in
her
field
.
Her
idea
of
business
—
"
Henry
,
why
do
people
who
have
enough
money
try
to
get
more
money
?
"
Her
idea
of
politics
—
"
I
am
sure
that
if
the
mothers
of
various
nations
could
meet
,
there
would
be
no
more
wars
.
"
Her
idea
of
religion
—
ah
,
this
had
been
a
cloud
,
but
a
cloud
that
passed
.
She
came
of
Quaker
stock
,
and
he
and
his
family
,
formerly
Dissenters
,
were
now
members
of
the
Church
of
England
.
The
rector
's
sermons
had
at
first
repelled
her
,
and
she
had
expressed
a
desire
for
"
a
more
inward
light
,
"
adding
,
"
not
so
much
for
myself
as
for
baby
"
(
Charles
)
.
Inward
light
must
have
been
granted
,
for
he
heard
no
complaints
in
later
years
.
They
brought
up
their
three
children
without
dispute
.
They
had
never
disputed
.
She
lay
under
the
earth
now
.
She
had
gone
,
and
as
if
to
make
her
going
the
more
bitter
,
had
gone
with
a
touch
of
mystery
that
was
all
unlike
her
.
"
Why
did
n't
you
tell
me
you
knew
of
it
?
"
he
had
moaned
,
and
her
faint
voice
had
answered
:
"
I
did
n't
want
to
,
Henry
—
I
might
have
been
wrong
—
and
every
one
hates
illnesses
.
"
He
had
been
told
of
the
horror
by
a
strange
doctor
,
whom
she
had
consulted
during
his
absence
from
town
.
Was
this
altogether
just
?
Without
fully
explaining
,
she
had
died
.
It
was
a
fault
on
her
part
,
and
—
tears
rushed
into
his
eyes
—
what
a
little
fault
!
It
was
the
only
time
she
had
deceived
him
in
those
thirty
years
.
He
rose
to
his
feet
and
looked
out
of
the
window
,
for
Evie
had
come
in
with
the
letters
,
and
he
could
meet
no
one
's
eye
.
Ah
yes
—
she
had
been
a
good
woman
—
she
had
been
steady
.
He
chose
the
word
deliberately
.
To
him
steadiness
included
all
praise
.
He
himself
,
gazing
at
the
wintry
garden
,
is
in
appearance
a
steady
man
.
His
face
was
not
as
square
as
his
son
's
,
and
,
indeed
,
the
chin
,
though
firm
enough
in
outline
,
retreated
a
little
,
and
the
lips
,
ambiguous
,
were
curtained
by
a
moustache
.
But
there
was
no
external
hint
of
weakness
.
The
eyes
,
if
capable
of
kindness
and
goodfellowship
,
if
ruddy
for
the
moment
with
tears
,
were
the
eyes
of
one
who
could
not
be
driven
.
The
forehead
,
too
,
was
like
Charles
's
.
High
and
straight
,
brown
and
polished
,
merging
abruptly
into
temples
and
skull
,
it
has
the
effect
of
a
bastion
that
protected
his
head
from
the
world
.
At
times
it
had
the
effect
of
a
blank
wall
.
He
had
dwelt
behind
it
,
intact
and
happy
,
for
fifty
years
.
"
The
post
's
come
,
Father
,
"
said
Evie
awkwardly
.
"
Thanks
.
Put
it
down
.
"
"
Has
the
breakfast
been
all
right
?
"
"
Yes
,
thanks
.
"
The
girl
glanced
at
him
and
at
it
with
constraint
.
She
did
not
know
what
to
do
.
"
Charles
says
do
you
want
the
Times
?
"
"
No
,
I
'll
read
it
later
.
"
"
Ring
if
you
want
anything
,
Father
,
wo
n't
you
?
"
"
I
've
all
I
want
.
"
Having
sorted
the
letters
from
the
circulars
,
she
went
back
to
the
dining-room
.
"
Father
's
eaten
nothing
,
"
she
announced
,
sitting
down
with
wrinkled
brows
behind
the
tea-urn
—
Charles
did
not
answer
,
but
after
a
moment
he
ran
quickly
upstairs
,
opened
the
door
,
and
said
:
"
Look
here
,
Father
,
you
must
eat
,
you
know
"
;
and
having
paused
for
a
reply
that
did
not
come
,
stole
down
again
.
"
He
's
going
to
read
his
letters
first
,
I
think
,
"
he
said
evasively
;
"
I
dare
say
he
will
go
on
with
his
breakfast
afterwards
.
"
Then
he
took
up
the
Times
,
and
for
some
time
there
was
no
sound
except
the
clink
of
cup
against
saucer
and
of
knife
on
plate
.
Poor
Mrs.
Charles
sat
between
her
silent
companions
,
terrified
at
the
course
of
events
,
and
a
little
bored
.
She
was
a
rubbishy
little
creature
,
and
she
knew
it
.
A
telegram
had
dragged
her
from
Naples
to
the
death-bed
of
a
woman
whom
she
had
scarcely
known
.
A
word
from
her
husband
had
plunged
her
into
mourning
.
She
desired
to
mourn
inwardly
as
well
,
but
she
wished
that
Mrs.
Wilcox
,
since
fated
to
die
,
could
have
died
before
the
marriage
,
for
then
less
would
have
been
expected
of
her
.
Crumbling
her
toast
,
and
too
nervous
to
ask
for
the
butter
,
she
remained
almost
motionless
,
thankful
only
for
this
,
that
her
father-in-law
was
having
his
breakfast
upstairs
.
At
last
Charles
spoke
.
"
They
had
no
business
to
be
pollarding
those
elms
yesterday
,
"
he
said
to
his
sister
.
"
No
indeed
.
"
"
I
must
make
a
note
of
that
,
"
he
continued
.
"
I
am
surprised
that
the
rector
allowed
it
.
"
"
Perhaps
it
may
not
be
the
rector
's
affair
.
"
"
Whose
else
could
it
be
?
"
"
The
lord
of
the
manor
.
"
"
Impossible
.
"
"
Butter
,
Dolly
?
"
"
Thank
you
,
Evie
dear
.
Charles
—
"
"
Yes
,
dear
?
"
"
I
did
n't
know
one
could
pollard
elms
.
I
thought
one
only
pollarded
willows
.
"
"
Oh
no
,
one
can
pollard
elms
.
"
"
Then
why
ought
n't
the
elms
in
the
churchyard
to
be
pollarded
?
"
Charles
frowned
a
little
,
and
turned
again
to
his
sister
.
"
Another
point
.
I
must
speak
to
Chalkeley
.
"
"
Yes
,
rather
;
you
must
complain
to
Chalkeley
.
"
It
's
no
good
him
saying
he
is
not
responsible
for
those
men
.
He
is
responsible
.
"
"
Yes
,
rather
.
"
Brother
and
sister
were
not
callous
.
They
spoke
thus
,
partly
because
they
desired
to
keep
Chalkeley
up
to
the
mark
—
a
healthy
desire
in
its
way
—
partly
because
they
avoided
the
personal
note
in
life
.
All
Wilcoxes
did
.
It
did
not
seem
to
them
of
supreme
importance
.
Or
it
may
be
as
Helen
supposed
:
they
realized
its
importance
,
but
were
afraid
of
it
.
Panic
and
emptiness
,
could
one
glance
behind
.
They
were
not
callous
,
and
they
left
the
breakfast-table
with
aching
hearts
.
Their
mother
never
had
come
in
to
breakfast
.
It
was
in
the
other
rooms
,
and
especially
in
the
garden
,
that
they
felt
her
loss
most
.
As
Charles
went
out
to
the
garage
,
he
was
reminded
at
every
step
of
the
woman
who
had
loved
him
and
whom
he
could
never
replace
.
What
battles
he
had
fought
against
her
gentle
conservatism
!
How
she
had
disliked
improvements
,
yet
how
loyally
she
had
accepted
them
when
made
!
He
and
his
father
—
what
trouble
they
had
had
to
get
this
very
garage
!
With
what
difficulty
had
they
persuaded
her
to
yield
them
to
the
paddock
for
it
—
the
paddock
that
she
loved
more
dearly
than
the
garden
itself
!
The
vine
—
she
had
got
her
way
about
the
vine
.
It
still
encumbered
the
south
wall
with
its
unproductive
branches
.
And
so
with
Evie
,
as
she
stood
talking
to
the
cook
.
Though
she
could
take
up
her
mother
's
work
inside
the
house
,
just
as
the
man
could
take
it
up
without
,
she
felt
that
something
unique
had
fallen
out
of
her
life
.
Their
grief
,
though
less
poignant
than
their
father
's
,
grew
from
deeper
roots
,
for
a
wife
may
be
replaced
;
a
mother
never
.
Charles
would
go
back
to
the
office
.
There
was
little
to
do
at
Howards
End
.
The
contents
of
his
mother
's
will
had
been
long
known
to
them
.
There
were
no
legacies
,
no
annuities
,
none
of
the
posthumous
bustle
with
which
some
of
the
dead
prolong
their
activities
.
Trusting
her
husband
,
she
had
left
him
everything
without
reserve
.
She
was
quite
a
poor
woman
—
the
house
had
been
all
her
dowry
,
and
the
house
would
come
to
Charles
in
time
.
Her
water-colours
Mr.
Wilcox
intended
to
reserve
for
Paul
,
while
Evie
would
take
the
jewellery
and
lace
.
How
easily
she
slipped
out
of
life
!
Charles
thought
the
habit
laudable
,
though
he
did
not
intend
to
adopt
it
himself
,
whereas
Margaret
would
have
seen
in
it
an
almost
culpable
indifference
to
earthly
fame
.
Cynicism
—
not
the
superficial
cynicism
that
snarls
and
sneers
,
but
the
cynicism
that
can
go
with
courtesy
and
tenderness
—
that
was
the
note
of
Mrs.
Wilcox
's
will
.
She
wanted
not
to
vex
people
.
That
accomplished
,
the
earth
might
freeze
over
her
for
ever
.
No
,
there
was
nothing
for
Charles
to
wait
for
.
He
could
not
go
on
with
his
honeymoon
,
so
he
would
go
up
to
London
and
work
—
he
felt
too
miserable
hanging
about
.
He
and
Dolly
would
have
the
furnished
flat
while
his
father
rested
quietly
in
the
country
with
Evie
.
He
could
also
keep
an
eye
on
his
own
little
house
,
which
was
being
painted
and
decorated
for
him
in
one
of
the
Surrey
suburbs
,
and
in
which
he
hoped
to
install
himself
soon
after
Christmas
.
Yes
,
he
would
go
up
after
lunch
in
his
new
motor
,
and
the
town
servants
,
who
had
come
down
for
the
funeral
,
would
go
up
by
train
.
He
found
his
father
's
chauffeur
in
the
garage
,
said
,
"
Morning
"
without
looking
at
the
man
's
face
,
and
,
bending
over
the
car
,
continued
:
"
Hullo
!
my
new
car
's
been
driven
!
"
"
Has
it
,
sir
?
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
Charles
,
getting
rather
red
;
"
and
whoever
's
driven
it
has
n't
cleaned
it
properly
,
for
there
's
mud
on
the
axle
.
Take
it
off
.
"
The
man
went
for
the
cloths
without
a
word
.
He
was
a
chauffeur
as
ugly
as
sin
—
not
that
this
did
him
disservice
with
Charles
,
who
thought
charm
in
a
man
rather
rot
,
and
had
soon
got
rid
of
the
little
Italian
beast
with
whom
they
had
started
.
"
Charles
—
"
His
bride
was
tripping
after
him
over
the
hoar-frost
,
a
dainty
black
column
,
her
little
face
and
elaborate
mourning
hat
forming
the
capital
thereof
.
"
One
minute
,
I
'm
busy
.
Well
,
Crane
,
who
's
been
driving
it
,
do
you
suppose
?
"
"
Do
n't
know
,
I
'm
sure
,
sir
.
No
one
's
driven
it
since
I
've
been
back
,
but
,
of
course
,
there
's
the
fortnight
I
've
been
away
with
the
other
car
in
Yorkshire
.
"
The
mud
came
off
easily
.
"
Charles
,
your
father
's
down
.
Something
's
happened
.
He
wants
you
in
the
house
at
once
.
Oh
,
Charles
!
"
"
Wait
,
dear
,
wait
a
minute
.
Who
had
the
key
to
the
garage
while
you
were
away
,
Crane
?
"
"
The
gardener
,
sir
.
"
"
Do
you
mean
to
tell
me
that
old
Penny
can
drive
a
motor
?
"
"
No
,
sir
;
no
one
's
had
the
motor
out
,
sir
.
"
"
Then
how
do
you
account
for
the
mud
on
the
axle
?
"
"
I
ca
n't
,
of
course
,
say
for
the
time
I
've
been
in
Yorkshire
.
No
more
mud
now
,
sir
.
"
Charles
was
vexed
.
The
man
was
treating
him
as
a
fool
,
and
if
his
heart
had
not
been
so
heavy
he
would
have
reported
him
to
his
father
.
But
it
was
not
a
morning
for
complaints
.
Ordering
the
motor
to
be
round
after
lunch
,
he
joined
his
wife
,
who
had
all
the
while
been
pouring
out
some
incoherent
story
about
a
letter
and
a
Miss
Schlegel
.
"
Now
,
Dolly
,
I
can
attend
to
you
.
Miss
Schlegel
?
What
does
she
want
?
"
When
people
wrote
a
letter
Charles
always
asked
what
they
wanted
.
Want
was
to
him
the
only
cause
of
action
.
And
the
question
in
this
case
was
correct
,
for
his
wife
replied
,
"
She
wants
Howards
End
.
"
"
Howards
End
?
Now
,
Crane
,
just
do
n't
forget
to
put
on
the
Stepney
wheel
.
"
"
No
,
sir
.
"
"
Now
,
mind
you
do
n't
forget
,
for
I
—
Come
,
little
woman
.
"
When
they
were
out
of
the
chauffeur
's
sight
he
put
his
arm
around
her
waist
and
pressed
her
against
him
.
All
his
affection
and
half
his
attention
—
it
was
what
he
granted
her
throughout
their
happy
married
life
.
"
But
you
have
n't
listened
,
Charles
—
"
"
What
's
wrong
?
"
"
I
keep
on
telling
you
—
Howards
End
.
Miss
Schlegels
got
it
.
"
"
Got
what
?
"
asked
Charles
,
unclasping
her
.
"
What
the
dickens
are
you
talking
about
?
"
"
Now
,
Charles
,
you
promised
not
to
say
those
naughty
—
"
"
Look
here
,
I
'm
in
no
mood
for
foolery
.
It
's
no
morning
for
it
either
.
"
"
I
tell
you
—
I
keep
on
telling
you
—
Miss
Schlegel
—
she
's
got
it
—
your
mother
's
left
it
to
her
—
and
you
've
all
got
to
move
out
!
"
"
Howards
End
?
"
"
Howards
End
!
"
she
screamed
,
mimicking
him
,
and
as
she
did
so
Evie
came
dashing
out
of
the
shrubbery
.
"
Dolly
,
go
back
at
once
!
My
father
's
much
annoyed
with
you
.
Charles
"
—
she
hit
herself
wildly
—
"
come
in
at
once
to
Father
.
He
's
had
a
letter
that
's
too
awful
.
"
Charles
began
to
run
,
but
checked
himself
,
and
stepped
heavily
across
the
gravel
path
.
There
the
house
was
—
the
nine
windows
,
the
unprolific
vine
.
He
exclaimed
,
"
Schlegels
again
!
"
and
as
if
to
complete
chaos
,
Dolly
said
,
"
Oh
no
,
the
matron
of
the
nursing
home
has
written
instead
of
her
.
"
"
Come
in
,
all
three
of
you
!
"
cried
his
father
,
no
longer
inert
.
"
Dolly
,
why
have
you
disobeyed
me
?
"
"
Oh
,
Mr.
Wilcox
—
"
"
I
told
you
not
to
go
out
to
the
garage
.
I
've
heard
you
all
shouting
in
the
garden
.
I
wo
n't
have
it
.
Come
in
.
"
He
stood
in
the
porch
,
transformed
,
letters
in
his
hand
.
"
Into
the
dining-room
,
every
one
of
you
.
We
ca
n't
discuss
private
matters
in
the
middle
of
all
the
servants
.
Here
,
Charles
,
here
;
read
these
.
See
what
you
make
.
"
Charles
took
two
letters
,
and
read
them
as
he
followed
the
procession
.
The
first
was
a
covering
note
from
the
matron
.
Mrs.
Wilcox
had
desired
her
,
when
the
funeral
should
be
over
,
to
forward
the
enclosed
.
The
enclosed
—
it
was
from
his
mother
herself
.
She
had
written
:
"
To
my
husband
:
I
should
like
Miss
Schlegel
(
Margaret
)
to
have
Howards
End
.
"
"
I
suppose
we
're
going
to
have
a
talk
about
this
?
"
he
remarked
,
ominously
calm
.
"
Certainly
.
I
was
coming
out
to
you
when
Dolly
—
"
"
Well
,
let
's
sit
down
.
"
"
Come
,
Evie
,
do
n't
waste
time
,
sit
down
.
"
In
silence
they
drew
up
to
the
breakfast-table
.
The
events
of
yesterday
—
indeed
,
of
this
morning
—
suddenly
receded
into
a
past
so
remote
that
they
seemed
scarcely
to
have
lived
in
it
.
Heavy
breathings
were
heard
.
They
were
calming
themselves
.
Charles
,
to
steady
them
further
,
read
the
enclosure
out
loud
:
"
A
note
in
my
mother
's
handwriting
,
in
an
envelope
addressed
to
my
father
,
sealed
.
Inside
:
'
I
should
like
Miss
Schlegel
(
Margaret
)
to
have
Howards
End
.
'
No
date
,
no
signature
.
Forwarded
through
the
matron
of
that
nursing
home
.
Now
,
the
question
is
—
"
Dolly
interrupted
him
.
"
But
I
say
that
note
is
n't
legal
.
Houses
ought
to
be
done
by
a
lawyer
,
Charles
,
surely
.
"
Her
husband
worked
his
jaw
severely
.
Little
lumps
appeared
in
front
of
either
ear
—
a
symptom
that
she
had
not
yet
learnt
to
respect
,
and
she
asked
whether
she
might
see
the
note
.
Charles
looked
at
his
father
for
permission
,
who
said
abstractedly
,
"
Give
it
her
.
"
She
seized
it
,
and
at
once
exclaimed
:
"
Why
,
it
's
only
in
pencil
!
I
said
so
.
Pencil
never
counts
.
"
"
We
know
that
it
is
not
legally
binding
,
Dolly
,
"
said
Mr.
Wilcox
,
speaking
from
out
of
his
fortress
.
"
We
are
aware
of
that
.
Legally
,
I
should
be
justified
in
tearing
it
up
and
throwing
it
into
the
fire
.
Of
course
,
my
dear
,
we
consider
you
as
one
of
the
family
,
but
it
will
be
better
if
you
do
not
interfere
with
what
you
do
not
understand
.
"
Charles
,
vexed
both
with
his
father
and
his
wife
,
then
repeated
:
"
The
question
is
—
"
He
had
cleared
a
space
of
the
breakfast-table
from
plates
and
knives
,
so
that
he
could
draw
patterns
on
the
tablecloth
.
"
The
question
is
whether
Miss
Schlegel
,
during
the
fortnight
we
were
all
away
,
whether
she
unduly
—
"
He
stopped
.
"
I
do
n't
think
that
,
"
said
his
father
,
whose
nature
was
nobler
than
his
son
's
"
Do
n't
think
what
?
"
"
That
she
would
have
—
that
it
is
a
case
of
undue
influence
.
No
,
to
my
mind
the
question
is
the
—
the
invalid
's
condition
at
the
time
she
wrote
.
"
"
My
dear
father
,
consult
an
expert
if
you
like
,
but
I
do
n't
admit
it
is
my
mother
's
writing
.
"
"
Why
,
you
just
said
it
was
!
"
cried
Dolly
.
"
Never
mind
if
I
did
,
"
he
blazed
out
;
"
and
hold
your
tongue
.
"
The
poor
little
wife
coloured
at
this
,
and
,
drawing
her
handkerchief
from
her
pocket
,
shed
a
few
tears
.
No
one
noticed
her
.
Evie
was
scowling
like
an
angry
boy
.
The
two
men
were
gradually
assuming
the
manner
of
the
committee-room
.
They
were
both
at
their
best
when
serving
on
committees
.
They
did
not
make
the
mistake
of
handling
human
affairs
in
the
bulk
,
but
disposed
of
them
item
by
item
,
sharply
.
Calligraphy
was
the
item
before
them
now
,
and
on
it
they
turned
their
well-trained
brains
.
Charles
,
after
a
little
demur
,
accepted
the
writing
as
genuine
,
and
they
passed
on
to
the
next
point
.
It
is
the
best
—
perhaps
the
only
—
way
of
dodging
emotion
.
They
were
the
average
human
article
,
and
had
they
considered
the
note
as
a
whole
it
would
have
driven
them
miserable
or
mad
.
Considered
item
by
item
,
the
emotional
content
was
minimized
,
and
all
went
forward
smoothly
.
The
clock
ticked
,
the
coals
blazed
higher
,
and
contended
with
the
white
radiance
that
poured
in
through
the
windows
.
Unnoticed
,
the
sun
occupied
his
sky
,
and
the
shadows
of
the
tree
stems
,
extraordinarily
solid
,
fell
like
trenches
of
purple
across
the
frosted
lawn
.
It
was
a
glorious
winter
morning
.
Evie
's
fox
terrier
,
who
had
passed
for
white
,
was
only
a
dirty
grey
dog
now
,
so
intense
was
the
purity
that
surrounded
him
.
He
was
discredited
,
but
the
blackbirds
that
he
was
chasing
glowed
with
Arabian
darkness
,
for
all
the
conventional
colouring
of
life
had
been
altered
.
Inside
,
the
clock
struck
ten
with
a
rich
and
confident
note
.
Other
clocks
confirmed
it
,
and
the
discussion
moved
towards
its
close
.
To
follow
it
is
unnecessary
.
It
is
rather
a
moment
when
the
commentator
should
step
forward
.
Ought
the
Wilcoxes
to
have
offered
their
home
to
Margaret
?
I
think
not
.
The
appeal
was
too
flimsy
.
It
was
not
legal
;
it
had
been
written
in
illness
,
and
under
the
spell
of
a
sudden
friendship
;
it
was
contrary
to
the
dead
woman
's
intentions
in
the
past
,
contrary
to
her
very
nature
,
so
far
as
that
nature
was
understood
by
them
.
To
them
Howards
End
was
a
house
:
they
could
not
know
that
to
her
it
had
been
a
spirit
,
for
which
she
sought
a
spiritual
heir
.
And
—
pushing
one
step
farther
in
these
mists
—
may
they
not
have
decided
even
better
than
they
supposed
?
Is
it
credible
that
the
possessions
of
the
spirit
can
be
bequeathed
at
all
?
Has
the
soul
offspring
?
A
wych-elm
tree
,
a
vine
,
a
wisp
of
hay
with
dew
on
it
—
can
passion
for
such
things
be
transmitted
where
there
is
no
bond
of
blood
?
No
;
the
Wilcoxes
are
not
to
be
blamed
.
The
problem
is
too
terrific
,
and
they
could
not
even
perceive
a
problem
.
No
;
it
is
natural
and
fitting
that
after
due
debate
they
should
tear
the
note
up
and
throw
it
on
to
their
dining-room
fire
.
The
practical
moralist
may
acquit
them
absolutely
.
He
who
strives
to
look
deeper
may
acquit
them
—
almost
.
For
one
hard
fact
remains
.
They
did
neglect
a
personal
appeal
.
The
woman
who
had
died
did
say
to
them
,
"
Do
this
,
"
and
they
answered
,
"
We
will
not
.
"
The
incident
made
a
most
painful
impression
on
them
.
Grief
mounted
into
the
brain
and
worked
there
disquietingly
.
Yesterday
they
had
lamented
:
"
She
was
a
dear
mother
,
a
true
wife
:
in
our
absence
she
neglected
her
health
and
died
.
"
Today
they
thought
:
"
She
was
not
as
true
,
as
dear
,
as
we
supposed
.
"
The
desire
for
a
more
inward
light
had
found
expression
at
last
,
the
unseen
had
impacted
on
the
seen
,
and
all
that
they
could
say
was
"
Treachery
.
"
Mrs.
Wilcox
had
been
treacherous
to
the
family
,
to
the
laws
of
property
,
to
her
own
written
word
.
How
did
she
expect
Howards
End
to
be
conveyed
to
Miss
Schlegel
?
Was
her
husband
,
to
whom
it
legally
belonged
,
to
make
it
over
to
her
as
a
free
gift
?
Was
the
said
Miss
Schlegel
to
have
a
life
interest
in
it
,
or
to
own
it
absolutely
?
Was
there
to
be
no
compensation
for
the
garage
and
other
improvements
that
they
had
made
under
the
assumption
that
all
would
be
theirs
some
day
?
Treacherous
!
treacherous
and
absurd
!
When
we
think
the
dead
both
treacherous
and
absurd
,
we
have
gone
far
towards
reconciling
ourselves
to
their
departure
.
That
note
,
scribbled
in
pencil
,
sent
through
the
matron
,
was
unbusinesslike
as
well
as
cruel
,
and
decreased
at
once
the
value
of
the
woman
who
had
written
it
.
"
Ah
,
well
!
"
said
Mr.
Wilcox
,
rising
from
the
table
.
"
I
should
n't
have
thought
it
possible
.
"
"
Mother
could
n't
have
meant
it
,
"
said
Evie
,
still
frowning
.
"
No
,
my
girl
,
of
course
not
.
"
"
Mother
believed
so
in
ancestors
too
—
it
is
n't
like
her
to
leave
anything
to
an
outsider
,
who
'd
never
appreciate
.
"
"
The
whole
thing
is
unlike
her
,
"
he
announced
.
"
If
Miss
Schlegel
had
been
poor
,
if
she
had
wanted
a
house
,
I
could
understand
it
a
little
.
But
she
has
a
house
of
her
own
.
Why
should
she
want
another
?
She
would
n't
have
any
use
of
Howards
End
.
"
"
That
time
may
prove
,
"
murmured
Charles
.
"
How
?
"
asked
his
sister
.
"
Presumably
she
knows
—
mother
will
have
told
her
.
She
got
twice
or
three
times
into
the
nursing
home
.
Presumably
she
is
awaiting
developments
.
"
"
What
a
horrid
woman
!
"
And
Dolly
,
who
had
recovered
,
cried
,
"
Why
,
she
may
be
coming
down
to
turn
us
out
now
!
"
Charles
put
her
right
.
"
I
wish
she
would
,
"
he
said
ominously
.
"
I
could
then
deal
with
her
.
"
"
So
could
I
,
"
echoed
his
father
,
who
was
feeling
rather
in
the
cold
.
Charles
had
been
kind
in
undertaking
the
funeral
arrangements
and
in
telling
him
to
eat
his
breakfast
,
but
the
boy
as
he
grew
up
was
a
little
dictatorial
,
and
assumed
the
post
of
chairman
too
readily
.
"
I
could
deal
with
her
,
if
she
comes
,
but
she
wo
n't
come
.
You
're
all
a
bit
hard
on
Miss
Schlegel
.
"
"
That
Paul
business
was
pretty
scandalous
,
though
.
"
"
I
want
no
more
of
the
Paul
business
,
Charles
,
as
I
said
at
the
time
,
and
besides
,
it
is
quite
apart
from
this
business
.
Margaret
Schlegel
has
been
officious
and
tiresome
during
this
terrible
week
,
and
we
have
all
suffered
under
her
,
but
upon
my
soul
she
's
honest
.
She
's
not
in
collusion
with
the
matron
.
I
'm
absolutely
certain
of
it
.
Nor
was
she
with
the
doctor
.
I
'm
equally
certain
of
that
.
She
did
