霍华德庄园 英文版 Howards End
爱德华.摩根.福斯特 Edward Morgan Forster
Chapter 20
Margaret had often wondered at the disturbance that takesplace in the world's waters, when Love, who seems so tiny apebble, slips in. Whom does Love concern beyond the belovedand the lover? Yet his impact deluges a hundred shores. Nodoubt the disturbance is really the spirit of thegenerations, welcoming the new generation, and chafingagainst the ultimate Fate, who holds all the seas in thepalm of her hand. But Love cannot understand this. Hecannot comprehend another's infinity; he is conscious onlyof his own--flying sunbeam, falling rose, pebble that asksfor one quiet plunge below the fretting interplay of spaceand time. He knows that he will survive at the end ofthings, and be gathered by Fate as a jewel from the slime,and be handed with admiration round the assembly of thegods. "Men did produce this," they will say, and, saying,they will give men immortality. But meanwhile--whatagitations meanwhile! The foundations of Property andPropriety are laid bare, twin rocks; Family Pride floundersto the surface, puffing and blowing, and refusing to becomforted; Theology, vaguely ascetic, gets up a nasty groundswell. Then the lawyers are aroused--cold brood--and creepout of their holes. They do what they can; they tidy upProperty and Propriety, reassure Theology and Family Pride.Half-guineas are poured on the troubled waters, the lawyerscreep back, and, if all has gone well, Love joins one manand woman together in Matrimony.
In this spirit she promised to marry him.
He was in Swanage on the morrow, bearing theengagement-ring. They greeted one another with a heartycordiality that impressed Aunt Juley. Henry dined at TheBays, but he had engaged a bedroom in the principal hotel:he was one of those men who knew the principal hotel byinstinct. After dinner he asked Margaret if she wouldn'tcare for a turn on the Parade. She accepted, and could notrepress a little tremor; it would be her first real lovescene. But as she put on her hat she burst out laughing.Love was so unlike the article served up in books: the joy,though genuine, was different; the mystery an unexpectedmystery. For one thing, Mr. Wilcox still seemed a stranger.
For a time they talked about the ring; then she said:
"Do you remember the Embankment at Chelsea? It can't beten days ago."
"Yes," he said, laughing. "And you and your sister werehead and ears deep in some Quixotic scheme. Ah well!"
"I little thought then, certainly. Did you?"
"I don't know about that; I shouldn't like to say."
"Why, was it earlier?" she cried. "Did you think of methis way earlier! How extraordinarily interesting, Henry!Tell me."
But Henry had no intention of telling. Perhaps he couldnot have told, for his mental states became obscure as soonas he had passed through them. He misliked the very word"interesting," connoting it with wasted energy and even withmorbidity. Hard facts were enough for him.
"I didn't think of it," she pursued. "No; when youspoke to me in the drawing-room, that was practically thefirst. It was all so different from what it's supposed tobe. On the stage, or in books, a proposal is--how shall Iput it? --a full-blown affair, a kind of bouquet; it losesits literal meaning. But in life a proposal really is a proposal--"
"By the way--"
"--a suggestion, a seed," she concluded; and the thoughtflew away into darkness.
"I was thinking, if you didn't mind, that we ought tospend this evening in a business talk; there will be so muchto settle."
"I think so too. Tell me, in the first place, how didyou get on with Tibby?"
"With your brother?"
"Yes, during cigarettes."
"Oh, very well."
"I am so glad," she answered, a little surprised. "Whatdid you talk about? Me, presumably."
"About Greece too."
"Greece was a very good card, Henry. Tibby's only a boystill, and one has to pick and choose subjects a little.Well done."
"I was telling him I have shares in a currant-farm near Calamata.
"What a delightful thing to have shares in! Can't we gothere for our honeymoon?"
"What to do?"
"To eat the currants. And isn't there marvellous scenery?"
Wilcox, omitting to add that they were also !
"Moderately, but it's not the kind of place one couldpossibly go to with a lady."
"Why not?"
"No hotels."
"Some ladies do without hotels. Are you aware thatHelen and I have walked alone over the Apennines, with ourluggage on our backs?"
"I wasn't aware, and, if I can manage it, you will neverdo such a thing again."
She said more gravely: "You haven't found time for atalk with Helen yet, I suppose?"
"No."
"Do, before you go. I am so anxious you two should be friends."
"Your sister and I have always hit it off," he saidnegligently. "But we're drifting away from our business.Let me begin at the beginning. You know that Evie is goingto marry Percy Cahill."
"Dolly's uncle."
"Exactly. The girl's madly in love with him. A verygood sort of fellow, but he demands--and rightly--a suitableprovision with her. And in the second place, you willnaturally understand, there is Charles. Before leavingtown, I wrote Charles a very careful letter. You see, hehas an increasing family and increasing expenses, and the I.and W. A. is nothing particular just now, though capable ofdevelopment.
"Poor fellow!" murmured Margaret, looking out to sea,and not understanding.
"Charles being the elder son, some day Charles will haveHowards End; but I am anxious, in my own happiness, not tobe unjust to others."
"Of course not," she began, and then gave a little cry."You mean money. How stupid I am! Of course not!"
Oddly enough, he winced a little at the word. "Yes.Money, since you put it so frankly. I am determined to bejust to all--just to you, just to them. I am determinedthat my children shall have no case against me."
"Be generous to them," she said sharply. "Bother justice!"
"I am determined--and have already written to Charles tothat effect--"
"But how much have you got?"
"What?"
"How much have you a year? I've six hundred."
"My income?"
"Yes. We must begin with how much you have, before wecan settle how much you can give Charles. Justice, and evengenerosity, depend on that."
"I must say you're a downright young woman," heobserved, patting her arm and laughing a little. "What aquestion to spring on a fellow!"
"Don't you know your income? Or don't you want to tellit me?"
"I--"
"That's all right"--now she patted him--"don't tell me.I don't want to know. I can do the sum just as well byproportion. Divide your income into ten parts. How manyparts would you give to Evie, how many to Charles, how manyto Paul?"
"The fact is, my dear, I hadn't any intention ofbothering you with details. I only wanted to let you knowthat--well, that something must be done for the others, andyou've understood me perfectly, so let's pass on to the nextpoint."
"Yes, we've settled that," said Margaret, undisturbed byhis strategic blunderings. "Go ahead; give away all youcan, bearing in mind I've a clear six hundred. What a mercyit is to have all this money about one!"
"We've none too much, I assure you; you're marrying apoor man.
"Helen wouldn't agree with me here," she continued."Helen daren't slang the rich, being rich herself, but shewould like to. There's an odd notion, that I haven't yetgot hold of, running about at the back of her brain, thatpoverty is somehow 'real.' She dislikes all organization,and probably confuses wealth with the technique of wealth.Sovereigns in a stocking wouldn't bother her; cheques do.Helen is too relentless. One can't deal in her high-handedmanner with the world."
"There's this other point, and then I must go back to myhotel and write some letters. What's to be done now aboutthe house in Ducie Street?"
"Keep it on--at least, it depends. When do you want tomarry me?"
She raised her voice, as too often, and some youths, whowere also taking the evening air, overheard her. "Getting abit hot, eh?" said one. Mr. Wilcox turned on them, and saidsharply, "I say!" There was silence. "Take care I don'treport you to the police." They moved away quietly enough,but were only biding their time, and the rest of theconversation was punctuated by peals of ungovernable laughter.
Lowering his voice and infusing a hint of reproof intoit, he said: "Evie will probably be married in September.We could scarcely think of anything before then."
"The earlier the nicer, Henry. Females are not supposedto say such things, but the earlier the nicer."
"How about September for us too?" he asked, rather dryly.
"Right. Shall we go into Ducie Street ourselves inSeptember? Or shall we try to bounce Helen and Tibby intoit? That's rather an idea. They are so unbusinesslike, wecould make them do anything by judicious management. Lookhere--yes. We'll do that. And we ourselves could live atHowards End or Shropshire."
He blew out his cheeks. "Heavens! how you women do flyround! My head's in a whirl. Point by point, Margaret.Howards End's impossible. I let it to Hamar Bryce on athree years' agreement last March. Don't you remember?Oniton. Well, that is much, much too far away to rely onentirely. You will be able to be down there entertaining acertain amount, but we must have a house within easy reachof Town. Only Ducie Street has huge drawbacks. There's amews behind."
Margaret could not help laughing. It was the first shehad heard of the mews behind Ducie Street. When she was apossible tenant it had suppressed itself, not consciously,but automatically. The breezy Wilcox manner, thoughgenuine, lacked the clearness of vision that is imperativefor truth. When Henry lived in Ducie Street he rememberedthe mews; when he tried to let he forgot it; and if anyonehad remarked that the mews must be either there or not, hewould have felt annoyed, and afterwards have found someopportunity of stigmatizing the speaker as academic. Sodoes my grocer stigmatize me when I complain of the qualityof his sultanas, and he answers in one breath that they arethe best sultanas, and how can I expect the best sultanas atthat price? It is a flaw inherent in the business mind, andMargaret may do well to be tender to it, considering allthat the business mind has done for England.
"Yes, in summer especially, the mews is a seriousnuisance. The smoking room, too, is an abominable littleden. The house opposite has been taken by operatic people.Ducie Street's going down, it's my private opinion."
"How sad! It's only a few years since they built thosepretty houses."
"Shows things are moving. Good for trade."
"I hate this continual flux of London. It is an epitomeof us at our worst--eternal formlessness; all the qualities,good, bad, and indifferent, streaming away--streaming,streaming for ever. That's why I dread it so. I mistrustrivers, even in scenery. Now, the sea--"
"High tide, yes."
"Hoy toid"--from the promenading youths.
He turned as he spoke, and prepared to see her back toThe Bays. The business was over. His hotel was in theopposite direction, and if he accompanied her his letterswould be late for the post. She implored him not to come,but he was obdurate.
"A nice beginning, if your aunt saw you slip in alone!"
"But I always do go about alone. Considering I'vewalked over the Apennines, it's common sense. You will makeme so angry. I don't the least take it as a compliment."
He laughed, and lit a cigar. "It isn't meant as acompliment, my dear. I just won't have you going about inthe dark. Such people about too! It's dangerous. "
"Can't I look after myself? I do wish--"
Hoy toid"--from the?
"Come along, Margaret; no wheedling."
A younger woman might have resented his masterly ways,but Margaret had too firm a grip of life to make a fuss.She was, in her own way, as masterly. If he was a fortressshe was a mountain peak, whom all might tread, but whom thesnows made nightly virginal. Disdaining the heroic outfit,excitable in her methods, garrulous, episodical, shrill, shemisled her lover much as she had misled her aunt. Hemistook her fertility for weakness. He supposed her "asclever as they make 'em," but no more, not realizing thatshe was penetrating to the depths of his soul, and approvingof what she found there.
And if insight were sufficient, if the inner life werethe whole of life, their happiness has been assured.
They walked ahead briskly. The parade and the roadafter it were well lighted, but it was darker in AuntJuley's garden. As they were going up by the side-paths,through some rhododendrons, Mr. Wilcox, who was in front,said "Margaret" rather huskily, turned, dropped his cigar,and took her in his arms.
She was startled, and nearly screamed, but recoveredherself at once, and kissed with genuine love the lips thatwere pressed against her own. It was their first kiss, andwhen it was over he saw her safely to the door and rang thebell for her, but disappeared into the night before the maidanswered it. On looking back, the incident displeased her.It was so isolated. Nothing in their previous conversationhad heralded it, and, worse still, no tenderness hadensued. If a man cannot lead up to passion he can at allevents lead down from it, and she had hoped, after hercomplaisance, for some interchange of gentle words. But hehad hurried away as if ashamed, and for an instant she wasreminded of Helen and Paul.