Chapter122

hehadarrangedtomeetsallyonsaturdayinthenationalgallery.shewastocomethereassoonasshewasreleasedfromtheshopandhadagreedtolunchwithhim.twodayshadpassedsincehehadseenher,andhisexultationhadnotlefthimforamoment.itwasbecauseherejoicedinthefeelingthathehadnotattemptedtoseeher.hehadrepeatedtohimselfexactlywhathewouldsaytoherandhowheshouldsayit.nowhisimpatiencewasunbearable.hehadwrittentodoctorsouthandhadinhispocketatelegramfromhimreceivedthatmorning:“sackingthemumpishfool.whenwillyoucome?”philipwalkedalongparliamentstreet.itwasafineday,andtherewasabright,frostysunwhichmadethelightdanceinthestreet.itwascrowded.therewasatenuousmistinthedistance,anditsoftenedexquisitelythenoblelinesofthebuildings.hecrossedtrafalgarsquare.suddenlyhisheartgaveasortoftwistinhisbody;hesawawomaninfrontofhimwhohethoughtwasmildred.shehadthesamefigure,andshewalkedwiththatslightingofthefeetwhichwassocharacteristicofher.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.”

hemethergazeardly.“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