Chapter XXXII

by Virginia Woolf

　　Nobody asked Katharine any questions next day. If cross-examined shemight have said that nobody spoke to her. She worked a little, wrote alittle, ordered the dinner, and sat, for longer than she knew, withher head on her hand piercing whatever lay before her, whether it wasa letter or a dictionary, as if it were a film upon the deep prospectsthat revealed themselves to her kindling and brooding eyes. She roseonce, and going to the bookcase, took out her father's Greekdictionary and spread the sacred pages of symbols and figures beforeher. She smoothed the sheets with a mixture of affectionate amusementand hope. Would other eyes look on them with her one day? The thought,long intolerable, was now just bearable.She was quite unaware of the anxiety with which her movements werewatched and her expression scanned. Cassandra was careful not to becaught looking at her, and their conversation was so prosaic that wereit not for certain jolts and jerks between the sentences, as if themind were kept with difficulty to the rails, Mrs. Milvain herselfcould have detected nothing of a suspicious nature in what sheoverheard.William, when he came in late that afternoon and found Cassandraalone, had a very serious piece of news to impart. He had just passedKatharine in the street and she had failed to recognize him."That doesn't matter with me, of course, but suppose it happened withsomebody else? What would they think? They would suspect somethingmerely from her expression. She looked--she looked"--he hesitated--"like some one walking in her sleep."To Cassandra the significant thing was that Katharine had gone outwithout telling her, and she interpreted this to mean that she hadgone out to meet Ralph Denham. But to her surprise William drew nocomfort from this probability."Once throw conventions aside," he began, "once do the things thatpeople don't do--" and the fact that you are going to meet a young manis no longer proof of anything, except, indeed, that people will talk.Cassandra saw, not without a pang of jealousy, that he was extremelysolicitous that people should not talk about Katharine, as if hisinterest in her were still proprietary rather than friendly. As theywere both ignorant of Ralph's visit the night before they had not thatreason to comfort themselves with the thought that matters werehastening to a crisis. These absences of Katharine's, moreover, leftthem exposed to interruptions which almost destroyed their pleasure inbeing alone together. The rainy evening made it impossible to go out;and, indeed, according to William's code, it was considerably moredamning to be seen out of doors than surprised within. They were somuch at the mercy of bells and doors that they could hardly talk ofMacaulay with any conviction, and William preferred to defer thesecond act of his tragedy until another day.Under these circumstances Cassandra showed herself at her best. Shesympathized with William's anxieties and did her utmost to share them;but still, to be alone together, to be running risks together, to bepartners in the wonderful conspiracy, was to her so enthralling thatshe was always forgetting discretion, breaking out into exclamationsand admirations which finally made William believe that, althoughdeplorable and upsetting, the situation was not without its sweetness.When the door did open, he started, but braved the forthcomingrevelation. It was not Mrs. Milvain, however, but Katharine herselfwho entered, closely followed by Ralph Denham. With a set expressionwhich showed what an effort she was making, Katharine encounteredtheir eyes, and saying, "We're not going to interrupt you," she ledDenham behind the curtain which hung in front of the room with therelics. This refuge was none of her willing, but confronted with wetpavements and only some belated museum or Tube station for shelter,she was forced, for Ralph's sake, to face the discomforts of her ownhouse. Under the street lamps she had thought him looking both tiredand strained.Thus separated, the two couples remained occupied for some time withtheir own affairs. Only the lowest murmurs penetrated from one sectionof the room to the other. At length the maid came in to bring amessage that Mr. Hilbery would not be home for dinner. It was truethat there was no need that Katharine should be informed, but Williambegan to inquire Cassandra's opinion in such a way as to show that,with or without reason, he wished very much to speak to her.From motives of her own Cassandra dissuaded him."But don't you think it's a little unsociable?" he hazarded. "Why notdo something amusing?--go to the play, for instance? Why not askKatharine and Ralph, eh?" The coupling of their names in this mannercaused Cassandra's heart to leap with pleasure."Don't you think they must be--?" she began, but William hastily tookher up."Oh, I know nothing about that. I only thought we might amuseourselves, as your uncle's out."He proceeded on his embassy with a mixture of excitement andembarrassment which caused him to turn aside with his hand on thecurtain, and to examine intently for several moments the portrait of alady, optimistically said by Mrs. Hilbery to be an early work of SirJoshua Reynolds. Then, with some unnecessary fumbling, he drew asidethe curtain, and with his eyes fixed upon the ground, repeated hismessage and suggested that they should all spend the evening at theplay. Katharine accepted the suggestion with such cordiality that itwas strange to find her of no clear mind as to the precise spectacleshe wished to see. She left the choice entirely to Ralph and William,who, taking counsel fraternally over an evening paper, foundthemselves in agreement as to the merits of a music-hall. This beingarranged, everything else followed easily and enthusiastically.Cassandra had never been to a music-hall. Katharine instructed her inthe peculiar delights of an entertainment where Polar bears followdirectly upon ladies in full evening dress, and the stage isalternately a garden of mystery, a milliner's band-box, and a fried-fish shop in the Mile End Road. Whatever the exact nature of theprogram that night, it fulfilled the highest purposes of dramatic art,so far, at least, as four of the audience were concerned.No doubt the actors and the authors would have been surprised to learnin what shape their efforts reached those particular eyes and ears;but they could not have denied that the effect as a whole wastremendous. The hall resounded with brass and strings, alternately ofenormous pomp and majesty, and then of sweetest lamentation. The redsand creams of the background, the lyres and harps and urns and skulls,the protuberances of plaster, the fringes of scarlet plush, thesinking and blazing of innumerable electric lights, could scarcelyhave been surpassed for decorative effect by any craftsman of theancient or modern world.Then there was the audience itself, bare-shouldered, tufted andgarlanded in the stalls, decorous but festal in the balconies, andfrankly fit for daylight and street life in the galleries. But,however they differed when looked at separately, they shared the samehuge, lovable nature in the bulk, which murmured and swayed andquivered all the time the dancing and juggling and love-making went onin front of it, slowly laughed and reluctantly left off laughing, andapplauded with a helter-skelter generosity which sometimes becameunanimous and overwhelming. Once William saw Katharine leaning forwardand clapping her hands with an abandonment that startled him. Herlaugh rang out with the laughter of the audience.For a second he was puzzled, as if this laughter disclosed somethingthat he had never suspected in her. But then Cassandra's face caughthis eye, gazing with astonishment at the buffoon, not laughing, toodeeply intent and surprised to laugh at what she saw, and for somemoments he watched her as if she were a child.The performance came to an end, the illusion dying out first here andthen there, as some rose to put on their coats, others stood uprightto salute "God Save the King," the musicians folded their music andencased their instruments, and the lights sank one by one until thehouse was empty, silent, and full of great shadows. Looking back overher shoulder as she followed Ralph through the swing doors, Cassandramarveled to see how the stage was already entirely without romance.But, she wondered, did they really cover all the seats in brownholland every night?The success of this entertainment was such that before they separatedanother expedition had been planned for the next day. The next day wasSaturday; therefore both William and Ralph were free to devote thewhole afternoon to an expedition to Greenwich, which Cassandra hadnever seen, and Katharine confused with Dulwich. On this occasionRalph was their guide. He brought them without accident to Greenwich.What exigencies of state or fantasies of imagination first gave birthto the cluster of pleasant places by which London is surrounded ismatter of indifference now that they have adapted themselves soadmirably to the needs of people between the ages of twenty and thirtywith Saturday afternoons to spend. Indeed, if ghosts have any interestin the affections of those who succeed them they must reap theirrichest harvests when the fine weather comes again and the lovers, thesightseers, and the holiday-makers pour themselves out of trains andomnibuses into their old pleasure-grounds. It is true that they go,for the most part, unthanked by name, although upon this occasionWilliam was ready to give such discriminating praise as the deadarchitects and painters received seldom in the course of the year.They were walking by the river bank, and Katharine and Ralph, lagginga little behind, caught fragments of his lecture. Katharine smiled atthe sound of his voice; she listened as if she found it a littleunfamiliar, intimately though she knew it; she tested it. The note ofassurance and happiness was new. William was very happy. She learntevery hour what sources of his happiness she had neglected. She hadnever asked him to teach her anything; she had never consented to readMacaulay; she had never expressed her belief that his play was secondonly to the works of Shakespeare. She followed dreamily in their wake,smiling and delighting in the sound which conveyed, she knew, therapturous and yet not servile assent of Cassandra.Then she murmured, "How can Cassandra--" but changed her sentence tothe opposite of what she meant to say and ended, "how could sheherself have been so blind?" But it was unnecessary to follow out suchriddles when the presence of Ralph supplied her with more interestingproblems, which somehow became involved with the little boat crossingthe river, the majestic and careworn City, and the steamers homecomingwith their treasury, or starting in search of it, so that infiniteleisure would be necessary for the proper disentanglement of one fromthe other. He stopped, moreover, and began inquiring of an old boatmanas to the tides and the ships. In thus talking he seemed different,and even looked different, she thought, against the river, with thesteeples and towers for background. His strangeness, his romance, hispower to leave her side and take part in the affairs of men, thepossibility that they should together hire a boat and cross the river,the speed and wildness of this enterprise filled her mind and inspiredher with such rapture, half of love and half of adventure, thatWilliam and Cassandra were startled from their talk, and Cassandraexclaimed, "She looks as if she were offering up a sacrifice! Verybeautiful," she added quickly, though she repressed, in deference toWilliam, her own wonder that the sight of Ralph Denham talking to aboatman on the banks of the Thames could move any one to such anattitude of adoration.That afternoon, what with tea and the curiosities of the Thames tunneland the unfamiliarity of the streets, passed so quickly that the onlymethod of prolonging it was to plan another expedition for thefollowing day. Hampton Court was decided upon, in preference toHampstead, for though Cassandra had dreamt as a child of the brigandsof Hampstead, she had now transferred her affections completely andfor ever to William III. Accordingly, they arrived at Hampton Courtabout lunch-time on a fine Sunday morning. Such unity marked theirexpressions of admiration for the red-brick building that they mighthave come there for no other purpose than to assure each other thatthis palace was the stateliest palace in the world. They walked up anddown the Terrace, four abreast, and fancied themselves the owners ofthe place, and calculated the amount of good to the world producedindubitably by such a tenancy."The only hope for us," said Katharine, "is that William shall die,and Cassandra shall be given rooms as the widow of a distinguishedpoet.""Or--" Cassandra began, but checked herself from the liberty ofenvisaging Katharine as the widow of a distinguished lawyer. Uponthis, the third day of junketing, it was tiresome to have to restrainoneself even from such innocent excursions of fancy. She dared notquestion William; he was inscrutable; he never seemed even to followthe other couple with curiosity when they separated, as theyfrequently did, to name a plant, or examine a fresco. Cassandra wasconstantly studying their backs. She noticed how sometimes the impulseto move came from Katharine, and sometimes from Ralph; how, sometimes,they walked slow, as if in profound intercourse, and sometimes fast,as if in passionate. When they came together again nothing could bemore unconcerned than their manner."We have been wondering whether they ever catch a fish . . ." or, "Wemust leave time to visit the Maze." Then, to puzzle her further,William and Ralph filled in all interstices of meal-times or railwayjourneys with perfectly good-tempered arguments; or they discussedpolitics, or they told stories, or they did sums together upon thebacks of old envelopes to prove something. She suspected thatKatharine was absent-minded, but it was impossible to tell. There weremoments when she felt so young and inexperienced that she almostwished herself back with the silkworms at Stogdon House, and notembarked upon this bewildering intrigue.These moments, however, were only the necessary shadow or chill whichproved the substance of her bliss, and did not damage the radiancewhich seemed to rest equally upon the whole party. The fresh air ofspring, the sky washed of clouds and already shedding warmth from itsblue, seemed the reply vouchsafed by nature to the mood of her chosenspirits. These chosen spirits were to be found also among the deer,dumbly basking, and among the fish, set still in mid-stream, for theywere mute sharers in a benignant state not needing any exposition bythe tongue. No words that Cassandra could come by expressed thestillness, the brightness, the air of expectancy which lay upon theorderly beauty of the grass walks and gravel paths down which theywent walking four abreast that Sunday afternoon. Silently the shadowsof the trees lay across the broad sunshine; silence wrapt her heart inits folds. The quivering stillness of the butterfly on the half-openedflower, the silent grazing of the deer in the sun, were the sights hereye rested upon and received as the images of her own nature laid opento happiness and trembling in its ecstasy.But the afternoon wore on, and it became time to leave the gardens. Asthey drove from Waterloo to Chelsea, Katharine began to have somecompunction about her father, which, together with the opening ofoffices and the need of working in them on Monday, made it difficultto plan another festival for the following day. Mr. Hilbery had takentheir absence, so far, with paternal benevolence, but they could nottrespass upon it indefinitely. Indeed, had they known it, he wasalready suffering from their absence, and longing for their return.He had no dislike of solitude, and Sunday, in particular, waspleasantly adapted for letter-writing, paying calls, or a visit to hisclub. He was leaving the house on some such suitable expeditiontowards tea-time when he found himself stopped on his own doorstep byhis sister, Mrs. Milvain. She should, on hearing that no one was athome, have withdrawn submissively, but instead she accepted hishalf-hearted invitation to come in, and he found himself in themelancholy position of being forced to order tea for her and sit inthe drawing-room while she drank it. She speedily made it plain thatshe was only thus exacting because she had come on a matter ofbusiness. He was by no means exhilarated at the news."Katharine is out this afternoon," he remarked. "Why not come roundlater and discuss it with her--with us both, eh?""My dear Trevor, I have particular reasons for wishing to talk to youalone. . . . Where is Katharine?""She's out with her young man, naturally. Cassandra plays the part ofchaperone very usefully. A charming young woman that--a great favoriteof mine." He turned his stone between his fingers, and conceiveddifferent methods of leading Celia away from her obsession, which, hesupposed, must have reference to the domestic affairs of Cyril asusual."With Cassandra," Mrs. Milvain repeated significantly. "WithCassandra.""Yes, with Cassandra," Mr. Hilbery agreed urbanely, pleased at thediversion. "I think they said they were going to Hampton Court, and Irather believe they were taking a protege of mine, Ralph Denham, avery clever fellow, too, to amuse Cassandra. I thought the arrangementvery suitable." He was prepared to dwell at some length upon this safetopic, and trusted that Katharine would come in before he had donewith it."Hampton Court always seems to me an ideal spot for engaged couples.There's the Maze, there's a nice place for having tea--I forget whatthey call it--and then, if the young man knows his business hecontrives to take his lady upon the river. Full ofpossibilities--full. Cake, Celia?" Mr. Hilbery continued. "I respectmy dinner too much, but that can't possibly apply to you. You've neverobserved that feast, so far as I can remember."Her brother's affability did not deceive Mrs. Milvain; it slightlysaddened her; she well knew the cause of it. Blind and infatuated asusual!"Who is this Mr. Denham?" she asked."Ralph Denham?" said Mr. Hilbery, in relief that her mind had takenthis turn. "A very interesting young man. I've a great belief in him.He's an authority upon our mediaeval institutions, and if he weren'tforced to earn his living he would write a book that very much wantswriting--""He is not well off, then?" Mrs. Milvain interposed."Hasn't a penny, I'm afraid, and a family more or less dependent onhim.""A mother and sisters?-- His father is dead?""Yes, his father died some years ago," said Mr. Hilbery, who wasprepared to draw upon his imagination, if necessary, to keep Mrs.Milvain supplied with facts about the private history of Ralph Denhamsince, for some inscrutable reason, the subject took her fancy."His father has been dead some time, and this young man had to takehis place--""A legal family?" Mrs. Milvain inquired. "I fancy I've seen the namesomewhere."Mr. Hilbery shook his head. "I should be inclined to doubt whetherthey were altogether in that walk of life," he observed. "I fancy thatDenham once told me that his father was a corn merchant. Perhaps hesaid a stockbroker. He came to grief, anyhow, as stockbrokers have away of doing. I've a great respect for Denham," he added. The remarksounded to his ears unfortunately conclusive, and he was afraid thatthere was nothing more to be said about Denham. He examined the tipsof his fingers carefully. "Cassandra's grown into a very charmingyoung woman," he started afresh. "Charming to look at, and charming totalk to, though her historical knowledge is not altogether profound.Another cup of tea?"Mrs. Milvain had given her cup a little push, which seemed to indicatesome momentary displeasure. But she did not want any more tea."It is Cassandra that I have come about," she began. "I am very sorryto say that Cassandra is not at all what you think her, Trevor. Shehas imposed upon your and Maggie's goodness. She has behaved in a waythat would have seemed incredible--in this house of all houses--wereit not for other circumstances that are still more incredible."Mr. Hilbery looked taken aback, and was silent for a second."It all sounds very black," he remarked urbanely, continuing hisexamination of his finger-nails. "But I own I am completely in thedark."Mrs. Milvain became rigid, and emitted her message in little shortsentences of extreme intensity."Who has Cassandra gone out with? William Rodney. Who has Katharinegone out with? Ralph Denham. Why are they for ever meeting each otherround street corners, and going to music-halls, and taking cabs lateat night? Why will Katharine not tell me the truth when I questionher? I understand the reason now. Katharine has entangled herself withthis unknown lawyer; she has seen fit to condone Cassandra's conduct."There was another slight pause."Ah, well, Katharine will no doubt have some explanation to give me,"Mr. Hilbery replied imperturbably. "It's a little too complicated forme to take in all at once, I confess--and, if you won't think me rude,Celia, I think I'll be getting along towards Knightsbridge."Mrs. Milvain rose at once."She has condoned Cassandra's conduct and entangled herself with RalphDenham," she repeated. She stood very erect with the dauntless air ofone testifying to the truth regardless of consequences. She knew frompast discussions that the only way to counter her brother's indolenceand indifference was to shoot her statements at him in a compressedform once finally upon leaving the room. Having spoken thus, sherestrained herself from adding another word, and left the house withthe dignity of one inspired by a great ideal.She had certainly framed her remarks in such a way as to prevent herbrother from paying his call in the region of Knightsbridge. He had nofears for Katharine, but there was a suspicion at the back of his mindthat Cassandra might have been, innocently and ignorantly, led intosome foolish situation in one of their unshepherded dissipations. Hiswife was an erratic judge of the conventions; he himself was lazy; andwith Katharine absorbed, very naturally--Here he recalled, as well ashe could, the exact nature of the charge. "She has condonedCassandra's conduct and entangled herself with Ralph Denham." Fromwhich it appeared that Katharine was not absorbed, or which of themwas it that had entangled herself with Ralph Denham? From this maze ofabsurdity Mr. Hilbery saw no way out until Katharine herself came tohis help, so that he applied himself, very philosophically on thewhole, to a book.No sooner had he heard the young people come in and go upstairs thanhe sent a maid to tell Miss Katharine that he wished to speak to herin the study. She was slipping furs loosely onto the floor in thedrawing-room in front of the fire. They were all gathered round,reluctant to part. The message from her father surprised Katharine,and the others caught from her look, as she turned to go, a vaguesense of apprehension.Mr. Hilbery was reassured by the sight of her. He congratulatedhimself, he prided himself, upon possessing a daughter who had a senseof responsibility and an understanding of life profound beyond heryears. Moreover, she was looking to-day unusual; he had come to takeher beauty for granted; now he remembered it and was surprised by it.He thought instinctively that he had interrupted some happy hour ofhers with Rodney, and apologized."I'm sorry to bother you, my dear. I heard you come in, and thoughtI'd better make myself disagreeable at once--as it seems,unfortunately, that fathers are expected to make themselvesdisagreeable. Now, your Aunt Celia has been to see me; your Aunt Celiahas taken it into her head apparently that you and Cassandra havebeen--let us say a little foolish. This going about together--thesepleasant little parties--there's been some kind of misunderstanding. Itold her I saw no harm in it, but I should just like to hear fromyourself. Has Cassandra been left a little too much in the company ofMr. Denham?"Katharine did not reply at once, and Mr. Hilbery tapped the coalencouragingly with the poker. Then she said, without embarrassment orapology:"I don't see why I should answer Aunt Celia's questions. I've told heralready that I won't."Mr. Hilbery was relieved and secretly amused at the thought of theinterview, although he could not license such irreverence outwardly."Very good. Then you authorize me to tell her that she's beenmistaken, and there was nothing but a little fun in it? You've nodoubt, Katharine, in your own mind? Cassandra is in our charge, and Idon't intend that people should gossip about her. I suggest that youshould be a little more careful in future. Invite me to your nextentertainment."She did not respond, as he had hoped, with any affectionate orhumorous reply. She meditated, pondering something or other, and hereflected that even his Katharine did not differ from other women inthe capacity to let things be. Or had she something to say?"Have you a guilty conscience?" he inquired lightly. "Tell me,Katharine," he said more seriously, struck by something in theexpression of her eyes."I've been meaning to tell you for some time," she said, "I'm notgoing to marry William.""You're not going--!" he exclaimed, dropping the poker in his immensesurprise. "Why? When? Explain yourself, Katharine.""Oh, some time ago--a week, perhaps more." Katharine spoke hurriedlyand indifferently, as if the matter could no longer concern any one."But may I ask--why have I not been told of this--what do you mean byit?""We don't wish to be married--that's all.""This is William's wish as well as yours?""Oh, yes. We agree perfectly."Mr. Hilbery had seldom felt more completely at a loss. He thought thatKatharine was treating the matter with curious unconcern; she scarcelyseemed aware of the gravity of what she was saying; he did notunderstand the position at all. But his desire to smooth everythingover comfortably came to his relief. No doubt there was some quarrel,some whimsey on the part of William, who, though a good fellow, was alittle exacting sometimes--something that a woman could put right. Butthough he inclined to take the easiest view of his responsibilities,he cared too much for this daughter to let things be."I confess I find great difficulty in following you. I should like tohear William's side of the story," he said irritably. "I think heought to have spoken to me in the first instance.""I wouldn't let him," said Katharine. "I know it must seem to you verystrange," she added. "But I assure you, if you'd wait a little--untilmother comes back."This appeal for delay was much to Mr. Hilbery's liking. But hisconscience would not suffer it. People were talking. He could notendure that his daughter's conduct should be in any way consideredirregular. He wondered whether, in the circumstances, it would bebetter to wire to his wife, to send for one of his sisters, to forbidWilliam the house, to pack Cassandra off home--for he was vaguelyconscious of responsibilities in her direction, too. His forehead wasbecoming more and more wrinkled by the multiplicity of his anxieties,which he was sorely tempted to ask Katharine to solve for him, whenthe door opened and William Rodney appeared. This necessitated acomplete change, not only of manner, but of position also."Here's William," Katharine exclaimed, in a tone of relief. "I've toldfather we're not engaged," she said to him. "I've explained that Iprevented you from telling him."William's manner was marked by the utmost formality. He bowed veryslightly in the direction of Mr. Hilbery, and stood erect, holding onelapel of his coat, and gazing into the center of the fire. He waitedfor Mr. Hilbery to speak.Mr. Hilbery also assumed an appearance of formidable dignity. He hadrisen to his feet, and now bent the top part of his body slightlyforward."I should like your account of this affair, Rodney--if Katharine nolonger prevents you from speaking."William waited two seconds at least."Our engagement is at an end," he said, with the utmost stiffness."Has this been arrived at by your joint desire?"After a perceptible pause William bent his head, and Katharine said,as if by an afterthought:"Oh, yes."Mr. Hilbery swayed to and fro, and moved his lips as if to utterremarks which remained unspoken."I can only suggest that you should postpone any decision until theeffect of this misunderstanding has had time to wear off. You have nowknown each other--" he began."There's been no misunderstanding," Katharine interposed. "Nothing atall." She moved a few paces across the room, as if she intended toleave them. Her preoccupied naturalness was in strange contrast to herfather's pomposity and to William's military rigidity. He had not onceraised his eyes. Katharine's glance, on the other hand, ranged pastthe two gentlemen, along the books, over the tables, towards the door.She was paying the least possible attention, it seemed, to what washappening. Her father looked at her with a sudden clouding andtroubling of his expression. Somehow his faith in her stability andsense was queerly shaken. He no longer felt that he could ultimatelyentrust her with the whole conduct of her own affairs after asuperficial show of directing them. He felt, for the first time inmany years, responsible for her."Look here, we must get to the bottom of this," he said, dropping hisformal manner and addressing Rodney as if Katharine were not present."You've had some difference of opinion, eh? Take my word for it, mostpeople go through this sort of thing when they're engaged. I've seenmore trouble come from long engagements than from any other form ofhuman folly. Take my advice and put the whole matter out of yourminds--both of you. I prescribe a complete abstinence from emotion.Visit some cheerful seaside resort, Rodney."He was struck by William's appearance, which seemed to him to indicateprofound feeling resolutely held in check. No doubt, he reflected,Katharine had been very trying, unconsciously trying, and had drivenhim to take up a position which was none of his willing. Mr. Hilberycertainly did not overrate William's sufferings. No minutes in hislife had hitherto extorted from him such intensity of anguish. He wasnow facing the consequences of his insanity. He must confess himselfentirely and fundamentally other than Mr. Hilbery thought him.Everything was against him. Even the Sunday evening and the fire andthe tranquil library scene were against him. Mr. Hilbery's appeal tohim as a man of the world was terribly against him. He was no longer aman of any world that Mr. Hilbery cared to recognize. But some powercompelled him, as it had compelled him to come downstairs, to make hisstand here and now, alone and unhelped by any one, without prospect ofreward. He fumbled with various phrases; and then jerked out:"I love Cassandra."Mr. Hilbery's face turned a curious dull purple. He looked at hisdaughter. He nodded his head, as if to convey his silent command toher to leave the room; but either she did not notice it or preferrednot to obey."You have the impudence--" Mr. Hilbery began, in a dull, low voicethat he himself had never heard before, when there was a scuffling andexclaiming in the hall, and Cassandra, who appeared to be insistingagainst some dissuasion on the part of another, burst into the room."Uncle Trevor," she exclaimed, "I insist upon telling you the truth!"She flung herself between Rodney and her uncle, as if she sought tointercept their blows. As her uncle stood perfectly still, lookingvery large and imposing, and as nobody spoke, she shrank back alittle, and looked first at Katharine and then at Rodney. "You mustknow the truth," she said, a little lamely."You have the impudence to tell me this in Katharine's presence?" Mr.Hilbery continued, speaking with complete disregard of Cassandra'sinterruption."I am aware, quite aware--" Rodney's words, which were broken insense, spoken after a pause, and with his eyes upon the ground,nevertheless expressed an astonishing amount of resolution. "I amquite aware what you must think of me," he brought out, looking Mr.Hilbery directly in the eyes for the first time."I could express my views on the subject more fully if we were alone,"Mr. Hilbery returned."But you forget me," said Katharine. She moved a little towardsRodney, and her movement seemed to testify mutely to her respect forhim, and her alliance with him. "I think William has behaved perfectlyrightly, and, after all, it is I who am concerned--I and Cassandra."Cassandra, too, gave an indescribably slight movement which seemed todraw the three of them into alliance together. Katharine's tone andglance made Mr. Hilbery once more feel completely at a loss, and inaddition, painfully and angrily obsolete; but in spite of an awfulinner hollowness he was outwardly composed."Cassandra and Rodney have a perfect right to settle their own affairsaccording to their own wishes; but I see no reason why they should doso either in my room or in my house. . . . I wish to be quite clear onthis point, however; you are no longer engaged to Rodney."He paused, and his pause seemed to signify that he was extremelythankful for his daughter's deliverance.Cassandra turned to Katharine, who drew her breath as if to speak andchecked herself; Rodney, too, seemed to await some movement on herpart; her father glanced at her as if he half anticipated some furtherrevelation. She remained perfectly silent. In the silence they hearddistinctly steps descending the staircase, and Katharine went straightto the door."Wait," Mr. Hilbery commanded. "I wish to speak to you--alone," headded.She paused, holding the door ajar."I'll come back," she said, and as she spoke she opened the door andwent out. They could hear her immediately speak to some one outside,though the words were inaudible.Mr. Hilbery was left confronting the guilty couple, who remainedstanding as if they did not accept their dismissal, and thedisappearance of Katharine had brought some change into the situation.So, in his secret heart, Mr. Hilbery felt that it had, for he couldnot explain his daughter's behavior to his own satisfaction."Uncle Trevor," Cassandra exclaimed impulsively, "don't be angry,please. I couldn't help it; I do beg you to forgive me."Her uncle still refused to acknowledge her identity, and still talkedover her head as if she did not exist."I suppose you have communicated with the Otways," he said to Rodneygrimly."Uncle Trevor, we wanted to tell you," Cassandra replied for him. "Wewaited--" she looked appealingly at Rodney, who shook his head ever soslightly."Yes? What were you waiting for?" her uncle asked sharply, looking ather at last.The words died on her lips. It was apparent that she was straining herears as if to catch some sound outside the room that would come to herhelp. He received no answer. He listened, too."This is a most unpleasant business for all parties," he concluded,sinking into his chair again, hunching his shoulders and regarding theflames. He seemed to speak to himself, and Rodney and Cassandra lookedat him in silence."Why don't you sit down?" he said suddenly. He spoke gruffly, but theforce of his anger was evidently spent, or some preoccupation hadturned his mood to other regions. While Cassandra accepted hisinvitation, Rodney remained standing."I think Cassandra can explain matters better in my absence," he said,and left the room, Mr. Hilbery giving his assent by a slight nod ofthe head.Meanwhile, in the dining-room next door, Denham and Katharine wereonce more seated at the mahogany table. They seemed to be continuing aconversation broken off in the middle, as if each remembered theprecise point at which they had been interrupted, and was eager to goon as quickly as possible. Katharine, having interposed a shortaccount of the interview with her father, Denham made no comment, butsaid:"Anyhow, there's no reason why we shouldn't see each other.""Or stay together. It's only marriage that's out of the question,"Katharine replied."But if I find myself coming to want you more and more?""If our lapses come more and more often?"He sighed impatiently, and said nothing for a moment."But at least," he renewed, "we've established the fact that my lapsesare still in some odd way connected with you; yours have nothing to dowith me. Katharine," he added, his assumption of reason broken up byhis agitation, "I assure you that we are in love--what other peoplecall love. Remember that night. We had no doubts whatever then. Wewere absolutely happy for half an hour. You had no lapse until the dayafter; I had no lapse until yesterday morning. We've been happy atintervals all day until I--went off my head, and you, quite naturally,were bored.""Ah," she exclaimed, as if the subject chafed her, "I can't make youunderstand. It's not boredom--I'm never bored. Reality--reality," sheejaculated, tapping her finger upon the table as if to emphasize andperhaps explain her isolated utterance of this word. "I cease to bereal to you. It's the faces in a storm again--the vision in ahurricane. We come together for a moment and we part. It's my fault,too. I'm as bad as you are--worse, perhaps."They were trying to explain, not for the first time, as their wearygestures and frequent interruptions showed, what in their commonlanguage they had christened their "lapses"; a constant source ofdistress to them, in the past few days, and the immediate reason whyRalph was on his way to leave the house when Katharine, listeninganxiously, heard him and prevented him. What was the cause of theselapses? Either because Katharine looked more beautiful, or morestrange, because she wore something different, or said somethingunexpected, Ralph's sense of her romance welled up and overcame himeither into silence or into inarticulate expressions, which Katharine,with unintentional but invariable perversity, interrupted orcontradicted with some severity or assertion of prosaic fact. Then thevision disappeared, and Ralph expressed vehemently in his turn theconviction that he only loved her shadow and cared nothing for herreality. If the lapse was on her side it took the form of gradualdetachment until she became completely absorbed in her own thoughts,which carried her away with such intensity that she sharply resentedany recall to her companion's side. It was useless to assert thatthese trances were always originated by Ralph himself, however littlein their later stages they had to do with him. The fact remained thatshe had no need of him and was very loath to be reminded of him. How,then, could they be in love? The fragmentary nature of theirrelationship was but too apparent.Thus they sat depressed to silence at the dining-room table, obliviousof everything, while Rodney paced the drawing-room overhead in suchagitation and exaltation of mind as he had never conceived possible,and Cassandra remained alone with her uncle. Ralph, at length, roseand walked gloomily to the window. He pressed close to the pane.Outside were truth and freedom and the immensity only to beapprehended by the mind in loneliness, and never communicated toanother. What worse sacrilege was there than to attempt to violatewhat he perceived by seeking to impart it? Some movement behind himmade him reflect that Katharine had the power, if she chose, to be inperson what he dreamed of her spirit. He turned sharply to implore herhelp, when again he was struck cold by her look of distance, herexpression of intentness upon some far object. As if conscious of hislook upon her she rose and came to him, standing close by his side,and looking with him out into the dusky atmosphere. Their physicalcloseness was to him a bitter enough comment upon the distance betweentheir minds. Yet distant as she was, her presence by his sidetransformed the world. He saw himself performing wonderful deeds ofcourage; saving the drowning, rescuing the forlorn. Impatient withthis form of egotism, he could not shake off the conviction thatsomehow life was wonderful, romantic, a master worth serving so longas she stood there. He had no wish that she should speak; he did notlook at her or touch her; she was apparently deep in her own thoughtsand oblivious of his presence.The door opened without their hearing the sound. Mr. Hilbery lookedround the room, and for a moment failed to discover the two figures inthe window. He started with displeasure when he saw them, and observedthem keenly before he appeared able to make up his mind to sayanything. He made a movement finally that warned them of his presence;they turned instantly. Without speaking, he beckoned to Katharine tocome to him, and, keeping his eyes from the region of the room whereDenham stood, he shepherded her in front of him back to the study.When Katharine was inside the room he shut the study door carefullybehind him as if to secure himself from something that he disliked."Now, Katharine," he said, taking up his stand in front of the fire,"you will, perhaps, have the kindness to explain--" She remainedsilent. "What inferences do you expect me to draw?" he saidsharply. . . . "You tell me that you are not engaged to Rodney; I seeyou on what appear to be extremely intimate terms with another--withRalph Denham. What am I to conclude? Are you," he added, as she stillsaid nothing, "engaged to Ralph Denham?""No," she replied.His sense of relief was great; he had been certain that her answerwould have confirmed his suspicions, but that anxiety being set atrest, he was the more conscious of annoyance with her for herbehavior."Then all I can say is that you've very strange ideas of the properway to behave. . . . People have drawn certain conclusions, nor am Isurprised. . . . The more I think of it the more inexplicable I findit," he went on, his anger rising as he spoke. "Why am I left inignorance of what is going on in my own house? Why am I left to hearof these events for the first time from my sister? Most disagreeable--most upsetting. How I'm to explain to your Uncle Francis--but I washmy hands of it. Cassandra goes tomorrow. I forbid Rodney the house. Asfor the other young man, the sooner he makes himself scarce thebetter. After placing the most implicit trust in you, Katharine--" Hebroke off, disquieted by the ominous silence with which his words werereceived, and looked at his daughter with the curious doubt as to herstate of mind which he had felt before, for the first time, thisevening. He perceived once more that she was not attending to what hesaid, but was listening, and for a moment he, too, listened for soundsoutside the room. His certainty that there was some understandingbetween Denham and Katharine returned, but with a most unpleasantsuspicion that there was something illicit about it, as the wholeposition between the young people seemed to him gravely illicit."I'll speak to Denham," he said, on the impulse of his suspicion,moving as if to go."I shall come with you," Katharine said instantly, starting forward."You will stay here," said her father."What are you going to say to him?" she asked."I suppose I may say what I like in my own house?" he returned."Then I go, too," she replied.At these words, which seemed to imply a determination to go--to go forever, Mr. Hilbery returned to his position in front of the fire, andbegan swaying slightly from side to side without for the moment makingany remark."I understood you to say that you were not engaged to him," he said atlength, fixing his eyes upon his daughter."We are not engaged," she said."It should be a matter of indifference to you, then, whether he comeshere or not--I will not have you listening to other things when I amspeaking to you!" he broke off angrily, perceiving a slight movementon her part to one side. "Answer me frankly, what is your relationshipwith this young man?""Nothing that I can explain to a third person," she said obstinately."I will have no more of these equivocations," he replied."I refuse to explain," she returned, and as she said it the front doorbanged to. "There!" she exclaimed. "He is gone!" She flashed such alook of fiery indignation at her father that he lost his self-controlfor a moment."For God's sake, Katharine, control yourself!" he cried.She looked for a moment like a wild animal caged in a civilizeddwelling-place. She glanced over the walls covered with books, as iffor a second she had forgotten the position of the door. Then she madeas if to go, but her father laid his hand upon her shoulder. Hecompelled her to sit down."These emotions have been very upsetting, naturally," he said. Hismanner had regained all its suavity, and he spoke with a soothingassumption of paternal authority. "You've been placed in a verydifficult position, as I understand from Cassandra. Now let us come toterms; we will leave these agitating questions in peace for thepresent. Meanwhile, let us try to behave like civilized beings. Let usread Sir Walter Scott. What d'you say to 'The Antiquary,' eh? Or 'TheBride of Lammermoor'?"He made his own choice, and before his daughter could protest or makeher escape, she found herself being turned by the agency of Sir WalterScott into a civilized human being.Yet Mr. Hilbery had grave doubts, as he read, whether the process wasmore than skin-deep. Civilization had been very profoundly andunpleasantly overthrown that evening; the extent of the ruin was stillundetermined; he had lost his temper, a physical disaster not to bematched for the space of ten years or so; and his own conditionurgently required soothing and renovating at the hands of theclassics. His house was in a state of revolution; he had a vision ofunpleasant encounters on the staircase; his meals would be poisonedfor days to come; was literature itself a specific against suchdisagreeables? A note of hollowness was in his voice as he read.