Chapter 3

WhentheyreachedthehouseMrs.Careyhaddiedin—itwasinadreary,respectablestreetbetweenNottingHillGateandHighStreet,Kensington—EmmaledPhilipintothedrawing-room.Hisunclewaswritinglettersofthanksforthewreathswhichhadbeensent.Oneofthem,whichhadarrivedtoolateforthefuneral,layinitscardboardboxonthehall-table.

“Here’sMasterPhilip,”saidEmma.

Mr.Careystoodupslowlyandshookhandswiththelittleboy.Thenonsecondthoughtshebentdownandkissedhisforehead.Hewasamanofsomewhatlessthanaverageheight,inclinedtocorpulence,withhishair,wornlong,arrangedoverthescalpsoastoconcealhisbaldness.Hewasclean-shaven.Hisfeatureswereregular,anditwaspossibletoimaginethatinhisyouthhehadbeengood-looking.Onhiswatch-chainheworeagoldcross.

“You’regoingtolivewithmenow,Philip,”saidMr.Carey.“Shallyoulikethat?”

TwoyearsbeforePhiliphadbeensentdowntostayatthevicarageafteranattackofchicken-pox;butthereremainedwithhimarecollectionofanatticandalargegardenratherthanofhisuncleandaunt.

“Yes.”

“YoumustlookuponmeandyourAuntLouisaasyourfatherandmother.”

Thechild’smouthtrembledalittle,hereddened,butdidnotanswer.

“Yourdearmotherleftyouinmycharge.”

Mr.Careyhadnogreateaseinexpressinghimself.Whenthenewscamethathissister-in-lawwasdying,hesetoffatonceforLondon,butonthewaythoughtofnothingbutthedisturbanceinhislifethatwouldbecausedifherdeathforcedhimtoundertakethecareofherson.Hewaswelloverfifty,andhiswife,towhomhehadbeenmarriedforthirtyyears,waschildless;hedidnotlookforwardwithanypleasuretothepresenceofasmallboywhomightbenoisyandrough.Hehadnevermuchlikedhissister-in-law.

“I’mgoingtotakeyoudowntoBlackstabletomorrow,”hesaid.

“WithEmma?”

Thechildputhishandinhers,andshepressedit.

“I’mafraidEmmamustgoaway,”saidMr.Carey.

“ButIwantEmmatocomewithme.”

Philipbegantocry,andthenursecouldnothelpcryingtoo.Mr.Careylookedatthemhelplessly.

“Ithinkyou’dbetterleavemealonewithMasterPhilipforamoment.”

“Verygood,sir.”

ThoughPhilipclungtoher,shereleasedherselfgently.Mr.Careytooktheboyonhiskneeandputhisarmroundhim.

“Youmustn’tcry,”hesaid.“You’retoooldtohaveanursenow.Wemustseeaboutsendingyoutoschool.”

“IwantEmmatocomewithme,”thechildrepeated.

“Itcoststoomuchmoney,Philip.Yourfatherdidn’tleaveverymuch,andIdon’tknowwhat’sbecomeofit.Youmustlookateverypennyyouspend.”

Mr.Careyhadcalledthedaybeforeonthefamilysolicitor.Philip’sfatherwasasurgeoningoodpractice,andhishospitalappointmentssuggestedanestablishedposition;sothatitwasasurpriseonhissuddendeathfromblood-poisoningtofindthathehadlefthiswidowlittlemorethanhislifeinsuranceandwhatcouldbegotfortheleaseoftheirhouseinBrutonStreet.Thiswassixmonthsago;andMrs.Carey,alreadyindelicatehealth,findingherselfwithchild,hadlostherheadandacceptedfortheleasethefirstofferthatwasmade.Shestoredherfurniture,and,atarentwhichtheparsonthoughtoutrageous,tookafurnishedhouseforayear,sothatshemightsufferfromnoinconveniencetillherchildwasborn.Butshehadneverbeenusedtothemanagementofmoney,andwasunabletoadaptherexpendituretoheralteredcircumstances.Thelittleshehadslippedthroughherfingersinonewayandanother,sothatnow,whenallexpenseswerepaid,notmuchmorethantwothousandpoundsremainedtosupporttheboytillhewasabletoearnhisownliving.ItwasimpossibletoexplainallthistoPhilipandhewassobbingstill.

“You’dbettergotoEmma,”Mr.Careysaid,feelingthatshecouldconsolethechildbetterthananyone.

WithoutawordPhilipslippedoffhisuncle’sknee,butMr.Careystoppedhim.

“Wemustgotomorrow,becauseonSaturdayI’vegottopreparemysermon,andyoumusttellEmmatogetyourthingsreadytoday.Youcanbringallyourtoys.Andifyouwantanythingtorememberyourfatherandmotherbyyoucantakeonethingforeachofthem.Everythingelseisgoingtobesold.”

Theboyslippedoutoftheroom.Mr.Careywasunusedtowork,andheturnedtohiscorrespondencewithresentment.Ononesideofthedeskwasabundleofbills,andthesefilledhimwithirritation.Oneespeciallyseemedpreposterous.ImmediatelyafterMrs.Carey’sdeathEmmahadorderedfromthefloristmassesofwhiteflowersfortheroominwhichthedeadwomanlay.Itwassheerwasteofmoney.Emmatookfartoomuchuponherself.Eveniftherehadbeennofinancialnecessity,hewouldhavedismissedher.

ButPhilipwenttoher,andhidhisfaceinherbosom,andweptasthoughhisheartwouldbreak.Andshe,feelingthathewasalmostherownson—shehadtakenhimwhenhewasamonthold—consoledhimwithsoftwords.Shepromisedthatshewouldcomeandseehimsometimes,andthatshewouldneverforgethim;andshetoldhimaboutthecountryhewasgoingtoandaboutherownhomeinDevonshire—herfatherkeptaturnpikeonthehigh-roadthatledtoExeter,andtherewerepigsinthesty,andtherewasacow,andthecowhadjusthadacalf—tillPhilipforgothistearsandgrewexcitedatthethoughtofhisapproachingjourney.Presentlysheputhimdown,fortherewasmuchtobedone,andhehelpedhertolayouthisclothesonthebed.Shesenthimintothenurserytogatheruphistoys,andinalittlewhilehewasplayinghappily.

Butatlasthegrewtiredofbeingaloneandwentbacktothebed-room,inwhichEmmawasnowputtinghisthingsintoabigtinbox;herememberedthenthathisunclehadsaidhemighttakesomethingtorememberhisfatherandmotherby.HetoldEmmaandaskedherwhatheshouldtake.

“You’dbettergointothedrawing-roomandseewhatyoufancy.”

“UncleWilliam’sthere.”

“Nevermindthat.They’reyourownthingsnow.”

Philipwentdownstairsslowlyandfoundthedooropen.Mr.Careyhadlefttheroom.Philipwalkedslowlyround.Theyhadbeeninthehousesoshortatimethattherewaslittleinitthathadaparticularinteresttohim.Itwasastranger’sroom,andPhilipsawnothingthatstruckhisfancy.Butheknewwhichwerehismother’sthingsandwhichbelongedtothelandlord,andpresentlyfixedonalittleclockthathehadonceheardhismothersaysheliked.Withthishewalkedagainratherdisconsolatelyupstairs.Outsidethedoorofhismother’sbed-roomhestoppedandlistened.Thoughnoonehadtoldhimnottogoin,hehadafeelingthatitwouldbewrongtodoso;hewasalittlefrightened,andhisheartbeatuncomfortably;butatthesametimesomethingimpelledhimtoturnthehandle.Heturneditverygently,asiftopreventanyonewithinfromhearing,andthenslowlypushedthedooropen.Hestoodonthethresholdforamomentbeforehehadthecouragetoenter.Hewasnotfrightenednow,butitseemedstrange.Heclosedthedoorbehindhim.Theblindsweredrawn,andtheroom,inthecoldlightofaJanuaryafternoon,wasdark.Onthedressing-tablewereMrs.Carey’sbrushesandthehandmirror.Inalittletraywerehairpins.Therewasaphotographofhimselfonthechimney-pieceandoneofhisfather.Hehadoftenbeenintheroomwhenhismotherwasnotinit,butnowitseemeddifferent.Therewassomethingcuriousinthelookofthechairs.Thebedwasmadeasthoughsomeoneweregoingtosleepinitthatnight,andinacaseonthepillowwasanight-dress.

Philipopenedalargecupboardfilledwithdressesand,steppingin,tookasmanyofthemashecouldinhisarmsandburiedhisfaceinthem.Theysmeltofthescenthismotherused.Thenhepulledopenthedrawers,filledwithhismother’sthings,andlookedatthem:therewerelavenderbagsamongthelinen,andtheirscentwasfreshandpleasant.Thestrangenessoftheroomleftit,anditseemedtohimthathismotherhadjustgoneoutforawalk.Shewouldbeinpresentlyandwouldcomeupstairstohavenurseryteawithhim.Andheseemedtofeelherkissonhislips.

Itwasnottruethathewouldneverseeheragain.Itwasnottruesimplybecauseitwasimpossible.Heclimbeduponthebedandputhisheadonthepillow.Helaytherequitestill.