Chapter 122

HehadarrangedtomeetSallyonSaturdayintheNationalGallery.Shewastocomethereassoonasshewasreleasedfromtheshopandhadagreedtolunchwithhim.Twodayshadpassedsincehehadseenher,andhisexultationhadnotlefthimforamoment.Itwasbecauseherejoicedinthefeelingthathehadnotattemptedtoseeher.Hehadrepeatedtohimselfexactlywhathewouldsaytoherandhowheshouldsayit.Nowhisimpatiencewasunbearable.HehadwrittentoDoctorSouthandhadinhispocketatelegramfromhimreceivedthatmorning:“Sackingthemumpishfool.Whenwillyoucome?”PhilipwalkedalongParliamentStreet.Itwasafineday,andtherewasabright,frostysunwhichmadethelightdanceinthestreet.Itwascrowded.Therewasatenuousmistinthedistance,anditsoftenedexquisitelythenoblelinesofthebuildings.HecrossedTrafalgarSquare.Suddenlyhisheartgaveasortoftwistinhisbody;hesawawomaninfrontofhimwhohethoughtwasMildred.Shehadthesamefigure,andshewalkedwiththatslightdraggingofthefeetwhichwassocharacteristicofher.Withoutthinking,butwithabeatingheart,hehurriedtillhecamealongside,andthen,whenthewomanturned,hesawitwassomeoneunknowntohim.Itwasthefaceofamucholderperson,withalined,yellowskin.Heslackenedhispace.Hewasinfinitelyrelieved,butitwasnotonlyreliefthathefelt;itwasdisappointmenttoo;hewasseizedwithhorrorofhimself.Wouldheneverbefreefromthatpassion?Atthebottomofhisheart,notwithstandingeverything,hefeltthatastrange,desperatethirstforthatvilewomanwouldalwayslinger.Thatlovehadcausedhimsomuchsufferingthatheknewhewouldnever,neverquitebefreeofit.Onlydeathcouldfinallyassuagehisdesire.

Buthewrenchedthepangfromhisheart.HethoughtofSally,withherkindblueeyes;andhislipsunconsciouslyformedthemselvesintoasmile.HewalkedupthestepsoftheNationalGalleryandsatdowninthefirstroom,sothatheshouldseeherthemomentshecamein.Italwayscomfortedhimtogetamongpictures.Helookedatnoneinparticular,butallowedthemagnificenceoftheircolour,thebeautyoftheirlines,toworkuponhissoul.HisimaginationwasbusywithSally.ItwouldbepleasanttotakeherawayfromthatLondoninwhichsheseemedanunusualfigure,likeacornflowerinashopamongorchidsandazaleas;hehadlearnedintheKentishhop-fieldthatshedidnotbelongtothetown;andhewassurethatshewouldblossomunderthesoftskiesofDorsettoararerbeauty.Shecamein,andhegotuptomeether.Shewasinblack,withwhitecuffsatherwristsandalawncollarroundherneck.Theyshookhands.

“Haveyoubeenwaitinglong?”

“No.Tenminutes.Areyouhungry?”

“Notvery.”

“Let’ssithereforabit,shallwe?”

“Ifyoulike.”

Theysatquietly,sidebyside,withoutspeaking.Philipenjoyedhavinghernearhim.Hewaswarmedbyherradianthealth.Aglowoflifeseemedlikeanaureoletoshineabouther.

“Well,howhaveyoubeen?”hesaidatlast,withalittlesmile.

“Oh,it’sallright.Itwasafalsealarm.”

“Wasit?”

“Aren’tyouglad?”

Anextraordinarysensationfilledhim.HehadfeltcertainthatSally’ssuspicionwaswell-founded;ithadneveroccurredtohimforaninstantthattherewasapossibilityoferror.Allhisplansweresuddenlyoverthrown,andtheexistence,soelaboratelypictured,wasnomorethanadreamwhichwouldneverberealised.Hewasfreeoncemore.Free!Heneedgiveupnoneofhisprojects,andlifestillwasinhishandsforhimtodowhathelikedwith.Hefeltnoexhilaration,butonlydismay.Hisheartsank.Thefuturestretchedoutbeforehimindesolateemptiness.Itwasasthoughhehadsailedformanyyearsoveragreatwasteofwaters,withperilandprivation,andatlasthadcomeuponafairhaven,butashewasabouttoenter,somecontrarywindhadarisenanddrovehimoutagainintotheopensea;andbecausehehadlethisminddwellonthesesoftmeadsandpleasantwoodsoftheland,thevastdesertsoftheoceanfilledhimwithanguish.Hecouldnotconfrontagainthelonelinessandthetempest.Sallylookedathimwithhercleareyes.

“Aren’tyouglad?”sheaskedagain.“Ithoughtyou’dbeaspleasedasPunch.”

Hemethergazehaggardly.“I’mnotsure,”hemuttered.

“Youarefunny.Mostmenwould.”

Herealisedthathehaddeceivedhimself;itwasnoself-sacrificethathaddrivenhimtothinkofmarrying,butthedesireforawifeandahomeandlove;andnowthatitallseemedtoslipthroughhisfingershewasseizedwithdespair.Hewantedallthatmorethananythingintheworld.WhatdidhecareforSpainanditscities,Cordova,Toledo,Leon;whattohimwerethepagodasofBurmahandthelagoonsofSouthSeaIslands?Americawashereandnow.Itseemedtohimthatallhislifehehadfollowedtheidealsthatotherpeople,bytheirwordsortheirwritings,hadinstilledintohim,andneverthedesiresofhisownheart.Alwayshiscoursehadbeenswayedbywhathethoughtheshoulddoandneverbywhathewantedwithhiswholesoultodo.Heputallthatasidenowwithagestureofimpatience.Hehadlivedalwaysinthefuture,andthepresentalways,alwayshadslippedthroughhisfingers.Hisideals?Hethoughtofhisdesiretomakeadesign,intricateandbeautiful,outofthemyriad,meaninglessfactsoflife:hadhenotseenalsothatthesimplestpattern,thatinwhichamanwasborn,worked,married,hadchildren,anddied,waslikewisethemostperfect?Itmightbethattosurrendertohappinesswastoacceptdefeat,butitwasadefeatbetterthanmanyvictories.

HeglancedquicklyatSally,hewonderedwhatshewasthinking,andthenlookedawayagain.

“Iwasgoingtoaskyoutomarryme,”hesaid.

“Ithoughtp’rapsyoumight,butIshouldn’thavelikedtostandinyourway.”

“Youwouldn’thavedonethat.”

“Howaboutyourtravels,Spainandallthat?”

“Howd’youknowIwanttotravel?”

“Ioughttoknowsomethingaboutit.I’veheardyouandDadtalkaboutittillyouwereblueintheface.”

“Idon’tcareadamnaboutallthat.”Hepausedforaninstantandthenspokeinalow,hoarsewhisper.“Idon’twanttoleaveyou!Ican’tleaveyou.”

Shedidnotanswer.Hecouldnottellwhatshethought.

“Iwonderifyou’llmarryme,Sally.”

Shedidnotmoveandtherewasnoflickerofemotiononherface,butshedidnotlookathimwhensheanswered.

“Ifyoulike.”

“Don’tyouwantto?”

“Oh,ofcourseI’dliketohaveahouseofmyown,andit’sabouttimeIwassettlingdown.”

Hesmiledalittle.Heknewherprettywellbynow,andhermannerdidnotsurprisehim.

“Butdon’tyouwanttomarryME?”

“There’snooneelseIwouldmarry.”

“Thenthatsettlesit.”

“MotherandDadwillbesurprised,won’tthey?”

“I’msohappy.”

“Iwantmylunch,”shesaid.

“Dear!”

Hesmiledandtookherhandandpressedit.Theygotupandwalkedoutofthegallery.TheystoodforamomentatthebalustradeandlookedatTrafalgarSquare.Cabsandomnibuseshurriedtoandfro,andcrowdspassed,hasteningineverydirection,andthesunwasshining.

TheEnd