Chapter XXXIV

by William Somerset Maugham

　　Next day after dinner they took their rugs and cushions to the fountain,and their books; but they did not read. Miss Wilkinson made herselfcomfortable and she opened the red sun-shade. Philip was not at all shynow, but at first she would not let him kiss her."It was very wrong of me last night," she said. "I couldn't sleep, I feltI'd done so wrong.""What nonsense!" he cried. "I'm sure you slept like a top.""What do you think your uncle would say if he knew?""There's no reason why he should know."He leaned over her, and his heart went pit-a-pat."Why d'you want to kiss me?"He knew he ought to reply: "Because I love you." But he could not bringhimself to say it."Why do you think?" he asked instead.She looked at him with smiling eyes and touched his face with the tips ofher fingers."How smooth your face is," she murmured."I want shaving awfully," he said.It was astonishing how difficult he found it to make romantic speeches. Hefound that silence helped him much more than words. He could lookinexpressible things. Miss Wilkinson sighed."Do you like me at all?""Yes, awfully."When he tried to kiss her again she did not resist. He pretended to bemuch more passionate than he really was, and he succeeded in playing apart which looked very well in his own eyes."I'm beginning to be rather frightened of you," said Miss Wilkinson."You'll come out after supper, won't you?" he begged."Not unless you promise to behave yourself.""I'll promise anything."He was catching fire from the flame he was partly simulating, and attea-time he was obstreperously merry. Miss Wilkinson looked at himnervously."You mustn't have those shining eyes," she said to him afterwards. "Whatwill your Aunt Louisa think?""I don't care what she thinks."Miss Wilkinson gave a little laugh of pleasure. They had no soonerfinished supper than he said to her:"Are you going to keep me company while I smoke a cigarette?""Why don't you let Miss Wilkinson rest?" said Mrs. Carey. "You mustremember she's not as young as you.""Oh, I'd like to go out, Mrs. Carey," she said, rather acidly."After dinner walk a mile, after supper rest a while," said the Vicar."Your aunt is very nice, but she gets on my nerves sometimes," said MissWilkinson, as soon as they closed the side-door behind them.Philip threw away the cigarette he had just lighted, and flung his armsround her. She tried to push him away."You promised you'd be good, Philip.""You didn't think I was going to keep a promise like that?""Not so near the house, Philip," she said. "Supposing someone should comeout suddenly?"He led her to the kitchen garden where no one was likely to come, and thistime Miss Wilkinson did not think of earwigs. He kissed her passionately.It was one of the things that puzzled him that he did not like her at allin the morning, and only moderately in the afternoon, but at night thetouch of her hand thrilled him. He said things that he would never havethought himself capable of saying; he could certainly never have said themin the broad light of day; and he listened to himself with wonder andsatisfaction."How beautifully you make love," she said.That was what he thought himself."Oh, if I could only say all the things that burn my heart!" he murmuredpassionately.It was splendid. It was the most thrilling game he had ever played; andthe wonderful thing was that he felt almost all he said. It was only thathe exaggerated a little. He was tremendously interested and excited in theeffect he could see it had on her. It was obviously with an effort that atlast she suggested going in."Oh, don't go yet," he cried."I must," she muttered. "I'm frightened."He had a sudden intuition what was the right thing to do then."I can't go in yet. I shall stay here and think. My cheeks are burning. Iwant the night-air. Good-night."He held out his hand seriously, and she took it in silence. He thought shestifled a sob. Oh, it was magnificent! When, after a decent intervalduring which he had been rather bored in the dark garden by himself, hewent in he found that Miss Wilkinson had already gone to bed.After that things were different between them. The next day and the dayafter Philip showed himself an eager lover. He was deliciously flatteredto discover that Miss Wilkinson was in love with him: she told him so inEnglish, and she told him so in French. She paid him compliments. No onehad ever informed him before that his eyes were charming and that he hada sensual mouth. He had never bothered much about his personal appearance,but now, when occasion presented, he looked at himself in the glass withsatisfaction. When he kissed her it was wonderful to feel the passion thatseemed to thrill her soul. He kissed her a good deal, for he found iteasier to do that than to say the things he instinctively felt sheexpected of him. It still made him feel a fool to say he worshipped her.He wished there were someone to whom he could boast a little, and he wouldwillingly have discussed minute points of his conduct. Sometimes she saidthings that were enigmatic, and he was puzzled. He wished Hayward had beenthere so that he could ask him what he thought she meant, and what he hadbetter do next. He could not make up his mind whether he ought to rushthings or let them take their time. There were only three weeks more."I can't bear to think of that," she said. "It breaks my heart. And thenperhaps we shall never see one another again.""If you cared for me at all, you wouldn't be so unkind to me," hewhispered."Oh, why can't you be content to let it go on as it is? Men are always thesame. They're never satisfied."And when he pressed her, she said:"But don't you see it's impossible. How can we here?"He proposed all sorts of schemes, but she would not have anything to dowith them."I daren't take the risk. It would be too dreadful if your aunt foundout."A day or two later he had an idea which seemed brilliant."Look here, if you had a headache on Sunday evening and offered to stay athome and look after the house, Aunt Louisa would go to church."Generally Mrs. Carey remained in on Sunday evening in order to allow MaryAnn to go to church, but she would welcome the opportunity of attendingevensong.Philip had not found it necessary to impart to his relations the change inhis views on Christianity which had occurred in Germany; they could not beexpected to understand; and it seemed less trouble to go to churchquietly. But he only went in the morning. He regarded this as a gracefulconcession to the prejudices of society and his refusal to go a secondtime as an adequate assertion of free thought.When he made the suggestion, Miss Wilkinson did not speak for a moment,then shook her head."No, I won't," she said.But on Sunday at tea-time she surprised Philip. "I don't think I'll cometo church this evening," she said suddenly. "I've really got a dreadfulheadache."Mrs. Carey, much concerned, insisted on giving her some `drops' which shewas herself in the habit of using. Miss Wilkinson thanked her, andimmediately after tea announced that she would go to her room and liedown."Are you sure there's nothing you'll want?" asked Mrs. Carey anxiously."Quite sure, thank you.""Because, if there isn't, I think I'll go to church. I don't often havethe chance of going in the evening.""Oh yes, do go.""I shall be in," said Philip. "If Miss Wilkinson wants anything, she canalways call me.""You'd better leave the drawing-room door open, Philip, so that if MissWilkinson rings, you'll hear.""Certainly," said Philip.So after six o'clock Philip was left alone in the house with MissWilkinson. He felt sick with apprehension. He wished with all his heartthat he had not suggested the plan; but it was too late now; he must takethe opportunity which he had made. What would Miss Wilkinson think of himif he did not! He went into the hall and listened. There was not a sound.He wondered if Miss Wilkinson really had a headache. Perhaps she hadforgotten his suggestion. His heart beat painfully. He crept up the stairsas softly as he could, and he stopped with a start when they creaked. Hestood outside Miss Wilkinson's room and listened; he put his hand on theknob of the door-handle. He waited. It seemed to him that he waited for atleast five minutes, trying to make up his mind; and his hand trembled. Hewould willingly have bolted, but he was afraid of the remorse which heknew would seize him. It was like getting on the highest diving-board ina swimming-bath; it looked nothing from below, but when you got up thereand stared down at the water your heart sank; and the only thing thatforced you to dive was the shame of coming down meekly by the steps youhad climbed up. Philip screwed up his courage. He turned the handle softlyand walked in. He seemed to himself to be trembling like a leaf.Miss Wilkinson was standing at the dressing-table with her back to thedoor, and she turned round quickly when she heard it open."Oh, it's you. What d'you want?"She had taken off her skirt and blouse, and was standing in her petticoat.It was short and only came down to the top of her boots; the upper part ofit was black, of some shiny material, and there was a red flounce. Shewore a camisole of white calico with short arms. She looked grotesque.Philip's heart sank as he stared at her; she had never seemed sounattractive; but it was too late now. He closed the door behind him andlocked it.