The Voyage Out Part 9

'Mrs. Paley will enjoy herself,' said Hirst.

'Mrs. Paley will enjoy it certainly,' said Hewet. 'It's one of the saddest things I know - the way elderly ladies cease to read poetry. And yet how appropriate this is: I speak as one who plumbs Life's dim profound, One who at length can sound Clear views and certain.

But - after love what comes?

A scene that lours, A few sad vacant hours, And then, the Curtain.ai I daresay Mrs. Paley is the only one of us who can really understand that.'

'We'll ask her,' said Hirst. 'Please, Hewet, if you must go to bed, draw my curtain. Few things distress me more than the moonlight.'

Hewet retreated, pressing the poems of Thomas Hardy beneath his arm, and in their beds next door to each other both the young men were soon asleep.

Between the extinction of Hewet's candle and the rising of a dusky Spanish boy who was the first to survey the desolation of the hotel in the early morning, a few hours of silence intervened. One could almost hear a hundred people breathing deeply, and however wakeful and restless it would have been hard to escape sleep in the middle of so much sleep. Looking out of the windows, there was only darkness to be seen. All over the shadowed half of the world people lay p.r.o.ne, and a few flickering lights in empty streets marked the places where their cities were built. Red and yellow omnibuses were crowding each other in Piccadilly; sumptuous women were rocking at a standstill; but here in the darkness an owl flitted from tree to tree, and when the breeze lifted the branches the moon flashed as if it were a torch. Until all people should awake again the houseless animals were abroad, the tigers and the stags, and the elephants coming down in the darkness to drink at pools. The wind at night blowing over the hills and woods was purer and fresher than the wind by day, and the earth, robbed of detail, more mysterious than the earth coloured and divided by roads and fields. For six hours this profound beauty existed, and then as the east grew whiter and whiter the ground swam to the surface, the roads were revealed, the smoke rose and the people stirred, and the sun shone upon the windows of the hotel at Santa Marina until they were uncurtained, and the gong blaring all through the house gave notice of breakfast.

Directly breakfast was over, the ladies as usual circled vaguely, picking up papers and putting them down again, about the hall.

'And what are you going to do to-day?' asked Mrs. Elliot drifting up against Miss Warrington.

Mrs. Elliot, the wife of Hughling the Oxford Don, was a short woman, whose expression was habitually plaintive. Her eyes moved from thing to thing as though they never found anything sufficiently pleasant to rest upon for any length of time.

'I'm going to try to get Aunt Emma out into the town,' said Susan. 'She's not seen a thing yet.'

'I call it so spirited of her at her age,' said Mrs. Elliot, 'coming all this way from her own fireside.'

'Yes, we always tell her she'll die on board s.h.i.+p,' Susan replied. 'She was born on one,' she added.

'In the old days,' said Mrs. Elliot, 'a great many people were. I always pity the poor women so! We've got a lot to complain of!' She shook her head. Her eyes wandered about the table, and she remarked irrelevantly, 'The poor little Queen of Holland! Newspaper reporters practically, one may say, at her bedroom door!'aj 'Were you talking of the Queen of Holland?' said the pleasant voice of Miss Allan, who was searching for the thick pages of The Times The Times among a litter of thin foreign sheets. among a litter of thin foreign sheets.

'I always envy any one who lives in such an excessively flat country,' she remarked.

'How very strange!' said Mrs. Elliot. 'I find a flat country so depressing.'

'I'm afraid you can't be very happy here then, Miss Allan,' said Susan.

'On the contrary,' said Miss Allan, 'I am exceedingly fond of mountains.' Perceiving The Times The Times at some distance, she moved off to secure it. at some distance, she moved off to secure it.

'Well, I must find my husband,' said Mrs. Elliot, fidgeting away.

And I must go to my aunt,' said Miss Warrington, and taking up the duties of the day they moved away.

Whether the flimsiness of foreign sheets and the coa.r.s.eness of their type is any proof of frivolity and ignorance, there is no doubt that English people scarce consider news read there as news, any more than a programme bought from a man in the street inspires confidence in what it says. A very respectable elderly pair, having inspected the long tables of newspapers, did not think it worth their while to read more than the headlines.

'The debate on the fifteenth should have reached us by now,' Mrs. Thornbury murmured. Mr. Thornbury, who was beautifully clean and had red rubbed into his handsome worn face like traces of paint on a weather-beaten wooden figure, looked over his gla.s.ses and saw that Miss Allan had The Times. The Times.

The couple therefore sat themselves down in arm-chairs and waited.

'Ah, there's Mr. Hewet,' said Mrs. Thornbury. 'Mr. Hewet,' she continued, 'do come and sit by us. I was telling my husband how much you reminded me of a dear old friend of mine - Mary Umpleby. She was a most delightful woman, I a.s.sure you. She grew roses. We used to stay with her in the old days.'

'No young man likes to have it said that he resembles an elderly spinster,' said Mr. Thornbury.

'On the contrary,' said Mr. Hewet, 'I always think it a compliment to remind people of some one else. But Miss Umpleby - why did she grow roses?'

Ah, poor thing,' said Mrs. Thornbury, 'that's a long story. She had gone through dreadful sorrows. At one time I think she would have lost her senses if it hadn't been for her garden. The soil was very much against her - a blessing in disguise; she had to be up at dawn - out in all weathers. And then there are creatures that eat roses. But she triumphed. She always did. She was a brave soul.' She sighed deeply but at the same time with resignation.

'I did not realise that I was monopolising the paper,' said Miss Allan, coming up to them.

'We were so anxious to read about the debate,' said Mrs. Thornbury, accepting it on behalf of her husband.

'One doesn't realise how interesting a debate can be until one has sons in the navy. My interests are equally balanced, though; I have sons in the army too; and one son who makes speeches at the Unionak - my baby!' - my baby!'

'Hirst would know him, I expect,' said Hewet.

'Mr. Hirst has such an interesting face,' said Mrs. Thornbury. 'But I feel one ought to be very clever to talk to him. Well, William?' she enquired, for Mr. Thornbury grunted.

'They're making a mess of it,' said Mr. Thornbury. He had reached the second column of the report, a spasmodic column, for the Irish members had been brawling three weeks ago at Westminster over a question of naval efficiency. After a disturbed paragraph or two, the column of print once more ran smoothly.

'You have read it?' Mrs. Thornbury asked Miss Allan.

'No, I am ashamed to say I have only read about the discoveries in Crete,' said Miss Allan.al 'Oh, but I would give so much to realise the ancient world!' cried Mrs. Thornbury. 'Now that we old people are alone, - we're on our second honeymoon, - I am really going to put myself to school again. After all we are founded founded on the past, aren't we, Mr. Hewet? My soldier son says that there is still a great deal to be learnt from Hannibal. One ought to know so much more than one does. Somehow when I read the paper, I begin with the debates first, and, before I've done, the door always opens - we're a very large party at home - and so one never does think enough about the ancients and all they've done for us. But on the past, aren't we, Mr. Hewet? My soldier son says that there is still a great deal to be learnt from Hannibal. One ought to know so much more than one does. Somehow when I read the paper, I begin with the debates first, and, before I've done, the door always opens - we're a very large party at home - and so one never does think enough about the ancients and all they've done for us. But you you begin at the beginning, Miss Allan.' begin at the beginning, Miss Allan.'

'When I think of the Greeks I think of them as naked black men,' said Miss Allan, 'which is quite incorrect, I'm sure.'

'And you, Mr. Hirst?' said Mrs. Thornbury, perceiving that the gaunt young man was near. 'I'm sure you read everything.'

'I confine myself to cricket and crime,' said Hirst. 'The worst of coming from the upper cla.s.ses,' he continued, 'is that one's friends are never killed in railway accidents.'

Mr. Thornbury threw down the paper, and emphatically dropped his eyegla.s.ses. The sheets fell in the middle of the group, and were eyed by them all.

'It's not gone well?' asked his wife solicitously.

Hewet picked up one sheet and read, 'A lady was walking yesterday in the streets of Westminster when she perceived a cat in the window of a deserted house. The famished animal - '

'I shall be out of it anyway,' Mr. Thornbury interrupted peevishly.

'Cats are often forgotten,' Miss Allan remarked.

'Remember, William, the Prime Minister has reserved his answer,' said Mrs. Thornbury.

'At the age of eighty, Mr. Joshua Harris of Eeles Park, Brondesbury, has had a son,' said Hirst.

'... The famished animal, which had been noticed by workmen for some days, was rescued, but - by Jove! it bit the man's hand to pieces!'

'Wild with hunger, I suppose,' commented Miss Allan.

'You're all neglecting the chief advantage of being abroad,' said Mr. Hughling Elliot, who had joined the group. 'You might read your news in French, which is equivalent to reading no news at all.'

Mr. Elliot had a profound knowledge of Coptic,am which he concealed as far as possible, and quoted French phrases so exquisitely that it was hard to believe that he could also speak the ordinary tongue. He had an immense respect for the French. which he concealed as far as possible, and quoted French phrases so exquisitely that it was hard to believe that he could also speak the ordinary tongue. He had an immense respect for the French.

'Coming?' he asked the two young men. 'We ought to start before it's really hot.'

'I beg of you not to walk in the heat, Hugh,' his wife pleaded, giving him an angular parcel enclosing half a chicken and some raisins.

'Hewet will be our barometer,' said Mr. Elliot. 'He will melt before I shall.'

Indeed, if so much as a drop had melted off his spare ribs, the bones would have lain bare. The ladies were left alone now, surrounding The Times The Times which lay upon the floor. Miss Allan looked at her father's watch. which lay upon the floor. Miss Allan looked at her father's watch.

'Ten minutes to eleven,' she observed.

'Work?' asked Mrs. Thornbury.

'Work,' replied Miss Allan.

'What a fine creature she is!' murmured Mrs. Thornbury, as the square figure in its manly coat withdrew.

And I'm sure she has a hard life,' sighed Mrs. Elliot.

'Oh, it is a hard life,' said Mrs. Thornbury. 'Unmarried women - earning their livings - it's the hardest life of all.'

'Yet she seems pretty cheerful,' said Mrs. Elliot.

'It must be very interesting,' said Mrs. Thornbury. 'I envy her her knowledge.'

'But that isn't what women want,' said Mrs. Elliot.

'I'm afraid it's all a great many can hope to have,' sighed Mrs. Thornbury. 'I believe that there are more of us than ever now. Sir Harley Lethbridge was telling me only the other day how difficult it is to find boys for the navy - partly because of their teeth, it is true. And I have heard young women talk quite openly of - '

'Dreadful, dreadful!' exclaimed Mrs. Elliot. 'The crown, as one may call it, of a woman's life. I, who know what it is to be childless - ' she sighed and ceased.

'But we must not be hard,' said Mrs. Thornbury. 'The conditions are so much changed since I was a young woman.'

'Surely maternity maternity does not change,' said Mrs. Elliot. does not change,' said Mrs. Elliot.

'In some ways we can learn a great deal from the young,' said Mrs. Thornbury. 'I learn so much from my own daughters.'

'I believe that Hughling really doesn't mind,' said Mrs. Elliot. 'But then he has his work.'

'Women without children can do so much for the children of others,' observed Mrs. Thornbury gently.

'I sketch a great deal,' said Mrs. Elliot, 'but that isn't really an occupation. It's so disconcerting to find girls just beginning doing better than one does oneself! And nature's difficult - very difficult!'

'Are there not inst.i.tutions - clubs - that you could help?' asked Mrs. Thornbury.

'They are so exhausting,' said Mrs. Elliot. 'I look strong, because of my colour; but I'm not; the youngest of eleven never is.'

'If the mother is careful before,' said Mrs. Thornbury judicially, 'there is no reason why the size of the family should make any difference. And there is no training like the training that brothers and sisters give each other. I am sure of that. I have seen it with my own children. My eldest boy Ralph, for instance - '

But Mrs. Elliot was inattentive to the elder lady's experience, and her eyes wandered about the hall.

'My mother had two miscarriages, I know,' she said suddenly. 'The first because she met one of those great dancing bears - they shouldn't be allowed; the other - it was a horrid story - our cook had a child and there was a dinner party. So I put my dyspepsia down to that.'

'And a miscarriage is so much worse than a confinement,' Mrs. Thornbury murmured absent-mindedly, adjusting her spectacles and picking up The Times. The Times. Mrs. Elliot rose and fluttered away. Mrs. Elliot rose and fluttered away.

When she had heard what one of the million voices speaking in the paper had to say, and noticed that a cousin of hers had married a clergyman at Minehead - ignoring the drunken women, the golden animals of Crete, the movements of battalions, the dinners, the reforms, the fires, the indignant, the learned and benevolent, Mrs. Thornbury went upstairs to write a letter for the mail.

The paper lay directly beneath the clock, the two together seeming to represent stability in a changing world. Mr. Perrott pa.s.sed through; Mr. Venning poised for a second on the edge of a table. Mrs. Paley was wheeled past. Susan followed. Mr. Venning strolled after her. Portuguese military families, their clothes suggesting late rising in untidy bedrooms, trailed across, attended by confidential nurses carrying noisy children. As midday drew on, and the sun beat straight upon the roof, an eddy of great flies droned in a circle; iced drinks were served under the palms; the long blinds were pulled down with a shriek, turning all the light yellow. The clock now had a silent hall to tick in, and an audience of four or five somnolent merchants. By degrees white figures with shady hats came in at the door, admitting a wedge of the hot summer day, and shutting it out again. After resting in the dimness for a minute, they went upstairs. Simultaneously, the clock wheezed one, and the gong sounded, beginning softly, working itself into a frenzy, and ceasing. There was a pause. Then all those who had gone upstairs came down; cripples came, planting both feet on the same step lest they should slip; prim little girls came, holding the nurse's finger; fat old men came still b.u.t.toning waistcoats. The gong had been sounded in the garden, and by degrees rec.u.mbent figures rose and strolled in to eat, since the time had come for them to feed again. There were pools and bars of shade in the garden even at midday, where two or three visitors could lie working or talking at their ease.

Owing to the heat of the day, luncheon was generally a silent meal, when people observed their neighbours and took stock of any new faces there might be, hazarding guesses as to who they were and what they did. Mrs. Paley, although well over seventy and crippled in the legs, enjoyed her food and the peculiarities of her fellow-beings. She was seated at a small table with Susan.

'I shouldn't like to say what she she is!' she chuckled, surveying a tall woman dressed conspicuously in white, with paint in the hollows of her cheeks, who was always late, and always attended by a shabby female follower, at which remark Susan blushed, and wondered why her aunt said such things. is!' she chuckled, surveying a tall woman dressed conspicuously in white, with paint in the hollows of her cheeks, who was always late, and always attended by a shabby female follower, at which remark Susan blushed, and wondered why her aunt said such things.

Lunch went on methodically, until each of the seven courses was left in fragments and the fruit was merely a toy, to be peeled and sliced as a child destroys a daisy, petal by petal. The food served as an extinguisher upon any faint flame of the human spirit that might survive the midday heat, but Susan sat in her room afterwards, turning over and over the delightful fact that Mr. Venning had come to her in the garden, and had sat there quite half an hour while she read aloud to her aunt. Men and women sought different corners where they could lie un.o.bserved, and from two to four it might be said without exaggeration that the hotel was inhabited by bodies without souls. Disastrous would have been the result if a fire or a death had suddenly demanded something heroic of human nature, but tragedies come in the hungry hours. Towards four o'clock the human spirit again began to lick the body, as a flame licks a black promontory of coal. Mrs. Paley felt it unseemly to open her toothless jaw so widely, though there was no one near, and Mrs. Elliot surveyed her round flushed face anxiously in the looking-gla.s.s.

Half an hour later, having removed the traces of sleep, they met each other in the hall, and Mrs. Paley observed that she was going to have her tea.

'You like your tea too, don't you?' she said, and invited Mrs. Elliot, whose husband was still out, to join her at a special table which she had placed for her under a tree.

'A little silver goes a long way in this country,' she chuckled.

She sent Susan back to fetch another cup.

'They have such excellent biscuits here,' she said, contemplating a plateful. 'Not sweet biscuits, which I don't like - dry biscuits ... Have you been sketching?'

'Oh, I've done two or three little daubs,' said Mrs. Elliot, speaking rather louder than usual. 'But it's so difficult after Oxfords.h.i.+re, where there are so many trees. The light's so strong here. Some people admire it, I know, but I find it very fatiguing.'

'I really don't need cooking, Susan,' said Mrs. Paley, when her niece returned. 'I must trouble you to move me.'

Everything had to be moved. Finally the old lady was placed so that the light wavered over her, as though she were a fish in a net. Susan poured out tea, and was just remarking that they were having hot weather in Wilts.h.i.+re too, when Mr. Venning asked whether he might join them.

'It's so nice to find a young man who doesn't despise tea,' said Mrs. Paley, regaining her good humour. 'One of my nephews the other day asked for a gla.s.s of sherry - at five o'clock! I told him he could get it at the public-house round the corner, but not in my drawing-room.'

'I'd rather go without lunch than tea,' said Mr. Venning. 'That's not strictly true. I want both.'

Mr. Venning was a dark young man, about thirty-two years of age, very slapdash and confident in his manner, although at this moment obviously a little excited. His friend Mr. Perrott was a barrister, and as Mr. Perrott refused to go anywhere without Mr. Venning it was necessary, when Mr. Perrott came to Santa Marina about a Company, for Mr. Venning to come too. He was a barrister also, but he loathed a profession which kept him indoors over books, and directly his widowed mother died he was going, so he confided to Susan, to take up flying seriously, and become partner in a large business for making aeroplanes. The talk rambled on. It dealt, of course, with the beauties and singularities of the place, the streets, the people, and the quant.i.ties of unowned yellow dogs.

'Don't you think it dreadfully cruel the way they treat dogs in this country?' asked Mrs. Paley.

'I'd have 'em all shot,' said Mr. Venning.

'Oh, but the darling puppies,' said Susan.

'Jolly little chaps,' said Mr. Venning. 'Look here, you've got nothing to eat.' A great wedge of cake was handed Susan on the point of a trembling knife. Her hand trembled too as she took it.

'I have such a dear dog at home,' said Mrs. Elliot.

'My parrot can't bear dogs,' said Mrs. Paley, with the air of one making a confidence. 'I always suspect that he (or she) was teased by a dog when I was abroad.'

'You didn't get far this morning, Miss Warrington,' said Mr. Venning.

'It was hot,' she answered. Their conversation became private, owing to Mrs. Paley's deafness and the long sad history which Mrs. Elliot had embarked upon of a wire-haired terrier, white with just one black spot, belonging to an uncle of hers, which had committed suicide. 'Animals do commit suicide,' she sighed, as if she a.s.serted a painful fact.