Chapter32

philipwassurprisedwhenhesawhisuncleandaunt.hehadnevernoticedbeforethattheywerequiteoldpeople.thevicarreceivedhimwithhisusual,notunamiableindifference.hewasalittlestouter,alittlebalder,alittlegrayer.philipsawhowinsignificanthewas.hisfacewasweakandself-indulgent.auntlouisatookhiminherarmsandkissedhim;andtearsofhappinessfloweddownhercheeks.philipwastouchedandembarrassed;hehadnotknownwithwhatahungryloveshecaredforhim.

“oh,thetimehasseemedlongsinceyou’vebeenaway,philip,”shecried.

shestrokedhishandsandlookedintohisfacewithgladeyes.

“you’vegrown.you’requiteamannow.”  therewasaverysmallmoustacheonhisupperlip.hehadboughtarazorandnowandthenwithinfinitecareshavedthedownoffhissmoothchin.

“we’vebeensolonelywithoutyou.”andthenshyly,withalittlebreakinhervoice,sheasked:“youaregladtocomebacktoyourhome,aren’tyou?”

“yes,rather.”

shewassothinthatsheseemedalmosttransparent,thearmssheputroundhisneckwerefrailbonesthatremindedyouofchickenbones,andherfadedfacewasoh!sowrinkled.thegraycurlswhichshestillworeinthefashionofheryouthgaveheraqueer,patheticlook;andherlittlewitheredbodywaslikeanautumnleaf,youfeltitmightbeblownawaybythefirstsharpwind.philiprealisedthattheyhaddonewithlife,thesetwoquietlittlepeople:theybelongedtoapastgeneration,andtheywerewaitingtherepatiently,ratherstupidly,fordeath;andhe,inhisvigourandhisyouth,thirstingforexcitementandadventure,wasappalledatthewaste.theyhaddonenothing,andwhentheywentitwouldbejustasiftheyhadneverbeen.hefeltagreatpityforauntlouisa,andhelovedhersuddenlybecauseshelovedhim.

thenmisswilkinson,whohadkeptdiscreetlyoutofthewaytillthecareyshadhadachanceofwelcomingtheirnephew,cameintotheroom.

“thisismisswilkinson,philip,”saidmrs.carey.

“theprodigalhasreturned,”shesaid,holdingoutherhand.“ihavebroughtarosefortheprodigal’sbuttonhole.”

withagaysmileshepinnedtophilip’scoattheflowershehadjustpickedinthegarden.heblushedandfeltfoolish.heknewthatmisswilkinsonwasthedaughterofhisunclewilliam’slastrector,andhehadawideacquaintancewiththedaughtersofclergymen.theyworeill-cutclothesandstoutboots.theyweregenerallydressedinblack,forinphilip’searlyyearsatblackstablehomespunshadnotreachedeastanglia,andtheladiesoftheclergydidnotfavourcolours.theirhairwasdoneveryuntidily,andtheysmeltaggressivelyofstarchedlinen.theyconsideredthefemininegracesunbecomingandlookedthesamewhethertheywereoldoryoung.theyboretheirreligionarrogantly.theclosenessoftheirconnectionwiththechurchmadethemadoptaslightlydictatorialattitudetotherestofmankind.

misswilkinsonwasverydifferent.sheworeawhitemuslingownstampedwithgaylittlebunchesofflowers,andpointed,high-heeledshoes,withopen-workstockings.tophilip’sinexperienceitseemedthat

shewaswonderfullydressed;hedidnotseethatherfrockwascheapandshowy.herhairwaselaboratelydressed,withaneatcurlinthemiddleoftheforehead:itwasveryblack,shinyandhard,anditlookedasthoughitcouldneverbeintheleastdisarranged.shehadlargeblackeyesandhernosewasslightlyaquiline;inprofileshehadsomewhatthelookofabirdofprey,butfullfaceshewasprepossessing.shesmiledagreatdeal,buthermouthwaslargeandwhenshesmiledshetriedtohideherteeth,whichwerebigandratheryellow.butwhatembarrassedphilipmostwasthatshewasheavilypowdered:hehadverystrictviewsonfemininebehaviouranddidnotthinkaladyeverpowdered;butofcoursemisswilkinsonwasaladybecauseshewasaclergyman’sdaughter,andaclergymanwasagentleman.

philipmadeuphismindtodislikeherthoroughly.shespokewithaslightfrenchaccent;andhedidnotknowwhysheshould,sinceshehadbeenbornandbredintheheartofengland.hethoughthersmileaffected,andthecoysprightlinessofhermannerirritatedhim.fortwoorthreedaysheremainedsilentandhostile,butmisswilkinsonapparentlydidnotnoticeit.shewasveryaffable.sheaddressedherconversationalmostexclusivelytohim,andtherewassomethingflatteringinthewaysheappealedconstantlytohissanejudgment.shemadehimlaughtoo,andphilipcouldneverresistpeoplewhoamusedhim:hehadagiftnowandthenofsayingneatthings;anditwaspleasanttohaveanappreciativelistener.neitherthevicarnormrs.careyhadasenseofhumour,andtheyneverlaughedatanythinghesaid.ashegrewusedtomisswilkinson,andhisshynesslefthim,hebegantolikeherbetter;hefoundthefrenchaccentpicturesque;andatagardenpartywhichthedoctorgaveshewasverymuchbetterdressedthananyoneelse.sheworeabluefoulardwithlargewhitespots,andphilipwastickledatthesensationitcaused.

“i’mcertaintheythinkyou’renobetterthanyoushouldbe,”hetoldher,laughing.

“it’sthedreamofmylifetobetakenforanabandonedhussy,”sheanswered.

onedaywhenmisswilkinsonwasinherroomheaskedauntlouisahowoldshewas.

“oh,mydear,youshouldneveraskalady’sage;butshe’scertainlytoooldforyoutomarry.”

thevicargavehisslow,obesesmile.

“she’snochicken,louisa,”hesaid.“shewasnearlygrownupwhenwewereinlincolnshire,andthatwastwentyyearsago.sheworeapigtailhangingdownherback.”

“shemaynothavebeenmorethanten,”saidphilip.

“shewasolderthanthat,”saidauntlouisa.

“ithinkshewasneartwenty,”saidthevicar.

“ohno,william.sixteenorseventeenattheoutside.”

“thatwouldmakeherwelloverthirty,”saidphilip.

atthatmomentmisswilkinsontrippeddownstairs,singingasongbybenjamingoddard.shehadputherhaton,forsheandphilipweregoingforawalk,andsheheldoutherhandforhimtobuttonherglove.hediditawkwardly.hefeltembarrassedbutgallant.conversationwenteasilybetweenthemnow,andastheystrolledalongtheytalkedofallmannerofthings.shetoldphilipaboutberlin,andhetoldherofhisyearinheidelberg.ashespoke,thingswhichhadappearedofnoimportancegainedanewinterest:hedescribedthepeopleatfrauerlin’shouse;andtotheconversationsbetweenhaywardandweeks,whichatthetimeseemedsosignificant,hegavealittletwist,sothattheylookedabsurd.hewasflatteredatmisswilkinson’slaughter.

“i’mquitefrightenedofyou,”shesaid.“you’resosarcastic.”

thensheaskedhimplayfullywhetherhehadnothadanyloveaffairsatheidelberg.withoutthinking,

hefranklyansweredthathehadnot;butsherefusedtobelievehim.

“howsecretiveyouare!”shesaid.“atyourageisitlikely?”

heblushedandlaughed.

“youwanttoknowtoomuch,”hesaid.

“ah,ithoughtso,”shelaughedtriumphantly.“lookathimblushing.”

hewaspleasedthatsheshouldthinkhehadbeenasaddog,andhechangedtheconversationsoastomakeherbelievehehadallsortsofromanticthingstoconceal.hewasangrywithhimselfthathehadnot.therehadbeennoopportunity.

misswilkinsonwasdissatisfiedwithherlot.sheresentedhavingtoearnherlivingandtoldphilipalongstoryofanuncleofhermother’s,whohadbeenexpectedtoleaveherafortunebuthadmarriedhiscookandchangedhiswill.shehintedattheluxuryofherhomeandcomparedherlifeinlincolnshire,withhorsestorideandcarriagestodrivein,withthemeandependenceofherpresentstate.philipwasalittlepuzzledwhenhementionedthisafterwardstoauntlouisa,andshetoldhimthatwhensheknewthewilkinsonstheyhadneverhadanythingmorethanaponyandadog-cart;auntlouisahadheardoftherichuncle,butashewasmarriedandhadchildrenbeforeemilywasbornshecouldneverhavehadmuchhopeofinheritinghisfortune.misswilkinsonhadlittlegoodtosayofberlin,whereshewasnowinasituation.shecomplainedofthevulgarityofgermanlife,andcompareditbitterlywiththebrillianceofparis,whereshehadspentanumberofyears.shedidnotsayhowmany.shehadbeengovernessinthefamilyofafashionableportrait-painter,whohadmarriedajewishwifeofmeans,andintheirhouseshehadmetmanydistinguishedpeople.shedazzledphilipwiththeirnames.actorsfromthecomediefrancaisehadcometothehousefrequently,and

coquelin,sittingnextheratdinner,hadtoldherhehadnevermetaforeignerwhospokesuchperfectfrench.alphonsedaudethadcomealso,andhehadgivenheracopyofsappho:hehadpromisedtowritehernameinit,butshehadforgottentoremindhim.shetreasuredthevolumenonethelessandshewouldlendittophilip.thentherewasmaupassant.misswilkinsonwitharipplinglaughlookedatphilipknowingly.whataman,butwhatawriter!haywardhadtalkedofmaupassant,andhisreputationwasnotunknowntophilip.

“didhemakelovetoyou?”heasked.

thewordsseemedtostickfunnilyinhisthroat,butheaskedthemnevertheless.helikedmisswilkinsonverymuchnow,andwasthrilledbyherconversation,buthecouldnotimagineanyonemakinglovetoher.

“whataquestion!”shecried.“poorguy,hemadelovetoeverywomanhemet.itwasahabitthathecouldnotbreakhimselfof.”

shesighedalittle,andseemedtolookbacktenderlyonthepast.

“hewasacharmingman,”shemurmured.

agreaterexperiencethanphilip’swouldhaveguessedfromthesewordstheprobabilitiesoftheencounter:thedistinguishedwriterinvitedtoluncheonenfamille,thegovernesscominginsedatelywiththetwotallgirlsshewasteaching;theintroduction:

“notremissanglaise.”

“mademoiselle.”

andtheluncheonduringwhichthemissanglaisesatsilentwhilethedistinguishedwritertalkedtohishostandhostess.buttophilipherwordscalledupmuchmoreromanticfancies.

“dotellmeallabouthim,”hesaidexcitedly.

“there’snothingtotell,”shesaidtruthfully,butinsuchamannerastoconveythatthreevolumeswouldscarcelyhavecontainedtheluridfacts.“youmustn’tbecurious.”

shebegantotalkofparis.shelovedtheboulevardsandthebois.therewasgraceineverystreet,andthetreesinthechampselyseeshadadistinctionwhichtreeshadnotelsewhere.theyweresittingonastilenowbythehigh-road,andmisswilkinsonlookedwithdisdainuponthestatelyelmsinfrontofthem.andthetheatres:theplayswerebrilliant,andtheactingwasincomparable.sheoftenwentwithmadamefoyot,themotherofthegirlsshewaseducating,whenshewastryingonclothes.

“oh,whatamiserytobepoor!”shecried.“thesebeautifulthings,it’sonlyinparistheyknowhowtodress,andnottobeabletoaffordthem!poormadamefoyot,shehadnofigure.sometimesthedressmakerusedtowhispertome:‘ah,mademoiselle,ifsheonlyhadyourfigure.’“

philipnoticedthenthatmisswilkinsonhadarobustformandwasproudofit.