AsthestreetsthatleadfromtheStrandtotheEmbankmentareverynarrow,itisbetternottowalkdownthemarm-in-arm。
Ifyoupersist,lawyers’clerkswillhavetomakeflyingleapsintothemud;youngladytypistswillhavetofidgetbehindyou。
InthestreetsofLondonwherebeautygoesunregarded,eccentricitymustpaythepenalty,anditisbetternottobeverytall,towearalongbluecloak,ortobeattheairwithyourlefthand。
OneafternooninthebeginningofOctoberwhenthetrafficwasbecomingbriskatallmanstrodealongtheedgeofthepavementwithaladyonhisarm。Angryglancesstruckupontheirbacks。
Thesmall,agitatedfigures——forincomparisonwiththiscouplemostpeoplelookedsmall——decoratedwithfountainpens,andburdenedwithdespatch-boxes,hadappointmentstokeep,anddrewaweeklysalary,sothattherewassomereasonfortheunfriendlystarewhichwasbestoweduponMr。Ambrose’sheightanduponMrs。Ambrose’scloak。
Butsomeenchantmenthadputbothmanandwomanbeyondthereachofmaliceandunpopularity。Inhisguessonemightguessfromthemovinglipsthatitwasthought;andinhersfromtheeyesfixedstonilystraightinfrontofheratalevelabovetheeyesofmostthatitwassorrow。
Itwasonlybyscorningallshemetthatshekeptherselffromtears,andthefrictionofpeoplebrushingpastherwasevidentlypainful。
AfterwatchingthetrafficontheEmbankmentforaminuteortwowithastoicalgazeshetwitchedherhusband’ssleeve,andtheycrossedbetweentheswiftdischargeofmotorcars。Whentheyweresafeonthefurtherside,shegentlywithdrewherarmfromhis,allowinghermouthatthesametimetorelax,totremble;thentearsrolleddown,andleaningherelbowsonthebalustrade,sheshieldedherfacefromthecurious。Mr。Ambroseattemptedconsolation;
hepattedhershoulder;butsheshowednosignsofadmittinghim,andfeelingitawkwardtostandbesideagriefthatwasgreaterthanhis,hecrossedhisarmsbehindhim,andtookaturnalongthepavement。
Theembankmentjutsoutinangleshereandthere,likepulpits;
insteadofpreachers,however,smallboysoccupythem,danglingstring,droppingpebbles,orlaunchingwadsofpaperforacruise。
Withtheirsharpeyeforeccentricity,theywereinclinedtothinkMr。Ambroseawful;butthequickestwittedcried“Bluebeard!“
ashepassed。Incasetheyshouldproceedtoteasehiswife,Mr。Ambroseflourishedhisstickatthem,uponwhichtheydecidedthathewasgrotesquemerely,andfourinsteadofonecried“Bluebeard!“inchorus。
AlthoughMrs。Ambrosestoodquitestill,muchlongerthanisnatural,thelittleboysletherbe。SomeoneisalwayslookingintotherivernearWaterlooBridge;acouplewillstandtheretalkingforhalfanhouronafineafternoon;mostpeople,walkingforpleasure,contemplateforthreeminutes;when,havingcomparedtheoccasionwithotheroccasions,ormadesomesentence,theypasson。SometimestheflatsandchurchesandhotelsofWestminsterareliketheoutlinesofConstantinopleinamist;sometimestheriverisanopulentpurple,sometimesmud-coloured,sometimessparklingbluelikethesea。
Itisalwaysworthwhiletolookdownandseewhatishappening。
Butthisladylookedneitherupnordown;theonlythingshehadseen,sinceshestoodthere,wasacirculariridescentpatchslowlyfloatingpastwithastrawinthemiddleofit。Thestrawandthepatchswamagainandagainbehindthetremulousmediumofagreatwellingtear,andthetearroseandfellanddroppedintotheriver。Thentherestruckcloseuponherears——
LarsPorsenaofClusiumBythenineGodsheswore——
andthenmorefaintly,asifthespeakerhadpassedheronhiswalk——
ThattheGreatHouseofTarquinShouldsufferwrongnomore。
Yes,sheknewshemustgobacktoallthat,butatpresentshemustweep。
Screeningherfaceshesobbedmoresteadilythanshehadyetdone,hershouldersrisingandfallingwithgreatregularity。Itwasthisfigurethatherhusbandsawwhen,havingreachedthepolishedSphinx,havingentangledhimselfwithamansellingpicturepostcards,heturned;
thestanzainstantlystopped。Hecameuptoher,laidhishandonhershoulder,andsaid,“Dearest。“Hisvoicewassupplicating。
Butsheshutherfaceawayfromhim,asmuchastosay,“Youcan’tpossiblyunderstand。“
Ashedidnotleaveher,however,shehadtowipehereyes,andtoraisethemtothelevelofthefactorychimneysontheotherbank。
ShesawalsothearchesofWaterlooBridgeandthecartsmovingacrossthem,likethelineofanimalsinashootinggallery。
Theywereseenblankly,buttoseeanythingwasofcoursetoendherweepingandbegintowalk。
“Iwouldratherwalk,“shesaid,herhusbandhavinghailedacabalreadyoccupiedbytwocitymen。
Thefixityofhermoodwasbrokenbytheactionofwalking。
Theshootingmotorcars,morelikespidersinthemoonthanterrestrialobjects,thethunderingdrays,thejinglinghansoms,andlittleblackbroughams,madeherthinkoftheworldshelivedin。
Somewhereupthereabovethepinnacleswherethesmokeroseinapointedhill,herchildrenwerenowaskingforher,andgettingasoothingreply。Asforthemassofstreets,squares,andpublicbuildingswhichpartedthem,sheonlyfeltatthismomenthowlittleLondonhaddonetomakeherloveit,althoughthirtyofherfortyyearshadbeenspentinastreet。Sheknewhowtoreadthepeoplewhowerepassingher;thereweretherichwhowererunningtoandfromeachothers’housesatthishour;therewerethebigotedworkersdrivinginastraightlinetotheiroffices;therewerethepoorwhowereunhappyandrightlymalignant。Already,thoughtherewassunlightinthehaze,tatteredoldmenandwomenwerenoddingofftosleepupontheseats。Whenonegaveupseeingthebeautythatclothedthings,thiswastheskeletonbeneath。
Afinerainnowmadeherstillmoredismal;vanswiththeoddnamesofthoseengagedinoddindustries——Sprules,ManufacturerofSaw-dust;Grabb,towhomnopieceofwastepapercomesamiss——
fellflatasabadjoke;boldlovers,shelteredbehindonecloak,seemedtohersordid,pasttheirpassion;theflowerwomen,acontentedcompany,whosetalkisalwaysworthhearing,weresoddenhags;
thered,yellow,andblueflowers,whoseheadswerepressedtogether,wouldnotblaze。Moreover,herhusbandwalkingwithaquickrhythmicstride,jerkinghisfreehandoccasionally,waseitheraVikingorastrickenNelson;thesea-gullshadchangedhisnote。
“Ridley,shallwedrive?Shallwedrive,Ridley?“
Mrs。Ambrosehadtospeaksharply;bythistimehewasfaraway。
Thecab,bytrottingsteadilyalongthesameroad,soonwithdrewthemfromtheWestEnd,andplungedthemintoLondon。Itappearedthatthiswasagreatmanufacturingplace,wherethepeoplewereengagedinmakingthings,asthoughtheWestEnd,withitselectriclamps,itsvastplate-glasswindowsallshiningyellow,itscarefully-finishedhouses,andtinylivefigurestrottingonthepavement,orbowledalongonwheelsintheroad,wasthefinishedwork。Itappearedtoheraverysmallbitofworkforsuchanenormousfactorytohavemade。Forsomereasonitappearedtoherasasmallgoldentasselontheedgeofavastblackcloak。
Observingthattheypassednootherhansomcab,butonlyvansandwaggons,andthatnotoneofthethousandmenandwomenshesawwaseitheragentlemanoralady,Mrs。Ambroseunderstoodthatafterallitistheordinarythingtobepoor,andthatLondonisthecityofinnumerablepoorpeople。StartledbythisdiscoveryandseeingherselfpacingacircleallthedaysofherliferoundPicadillyCircusshewasgreatlyrelievedtopassabuildingputupbytheLondonCountyCouncilforNightSchools。
“Lord,howgloomyitis!“herhusbandgroaned。“Poorcreatures!“
Whatwiththemiseryforherchildren,thepoor,andtherain,hermindwaslikeawoundexposedtodryintheair。
Atthispointthecabstopped,foritwasindangerofbeingcrushedlikeanegg-shell。ThewideEmbankmentwhichhadhadroomforcannonballsandsquadrons,hadnowshrunktoacobbledlanesteamingwithsmellsofmaltandoilandblockedbywaggons。
WhileherhusbandreadtheplacardspastedonthebrickannouncingthehoursatwhichcertainshipswouldsailforScotland,Mrs。Ambrosedidherbesttofindinformation。Fromaworldexclusivelyoccupiedinfeedingwaggonswithsacks,halfobliteratedtooinafineyellowfog,theygotneitherhelpnorattention。
Itseemedamiraclewhenanoldmanapproached,guessedtheircondition,andproposedtorowthemouttotheirshipinthelittleboatwhichhekeptmooredatthebottomofaflightofsteps。Withsomehesitationtheytrustedthemselvestohim,tooktheirplaces,andweresoonwavingupanddownuponthewater,Londonhavingshrunktotwolinesofbuildingsoneithersideofthem,squarebuildingsandoblongbuildingsplacedinrowslikeachild’savenueofbricks。
Theriver,whichhadacertainamountoftroubledyellowlightinit,ranwithgreatforce;bulkybargesfloateddownswiftlyescortedbytugs;
policeboatsshotpasteverything;thewindwentwiththecurrent。
Theopenrowing-boatinwhichtheysatbobbedandcurtseyedacrossthelineoftraffic。Inmid-streamtheoldmanstayedhishandsupontheoars,andasthewaterrushedpastthem,remarkedthatoncehehadtakenmanypassengersacross,wherenowhetookscarcelyany。
Heseemedtorecallanagewhenhisboat,mooredamongrushes,carrieddelicatefeetacrosstolawnsatRotherhithe。
“Theywantbridgesnow,“hesaid,indicatingthemonstrousoutlineoftheTowerBridge。MournfullyHelenregardedhim,whowasputtingwaterbetweenherandherchildren。Mournfullyshegazedattheshiptheywereapproaching;anchoredinthemiddleofthestreamtheycoulddimlyreadhername——_Euphrosyne_。
Verydimlyinthefallingdusktheycouldseethelinesoftherigging,themastsandthedarkflagwhichthebreezeblewoutsquarelybehind。
Asthelittleboatsidleduptothesteamer,andtheoldmanshippedhisoars,heremarkedoncemorepointingabove,thatshipsalltheworldoverflewthatflagthedaytheysailed。Inthemindsofboththepassengerstheblueflagappearedasinistertoken,andthisthemomentforpresentiments,butneverthelesstheyrose,gatheredtheirthingstogether,andclimbedondeck。
Downinthesaloonofherfather’sship,MissRachelVinrace,agedtwenty-four,stoodwaitingheruncleandauntnervously。
Tobeginwith,thoughnearlyrelated,shescarcelyrememberedthem;
togoonwith,theywereelderlypeople,andfinally,asherfather’sdaughtershemustbeinsomesortpreparedtoentertainthem。
Shelookedforwardtoseeingthemascivilisedpeoplegenerallylookforwardtothefirstsightofcivilisedpeople,asthoughtheywereofthenatureofanapproachingphysicaldiscomfort——
atightshoeoradraughtywindow。Shewasalreadyunnaturallybracedtoreceivethem。Assheoccupiedherselfinlayingforksseverelystraightbythesideofknives,sheheardaman’svoicesayinggloomily:
“Onadarknightonewouldfalldownthesestairsheadforemost,“
towhichawoman’svoiceadded,“Andbekilled。“
Asshespokethelastwordsthewomanstoodinthedoorway。Tall,large-eyed,drapedinpurpleshawls,Mrs。Ambrosewasromanticandbeautiful;
notperhapssympathetic,forhereyeslookedstraightandconsideredwhattheysaw。HerfacewasmuchwarmerthanaGreekface;ontheotherhanditwasmuchbolderthanthefaceoftheusualprettyEnglishwoman。
“Oh,Rachel,howd’youdo,“shesaid,shakinghands。
“Howareyou,dear,“saidMr。Ambrose,inclininghisforeheadtobekissed。Hisnieceinstinctivelylikedhisthinangularbody,andthebigheadwithitssweepingfeatures,andtheacute,innocenteyes。
“TellMr。Pepper,“Rachelbadetheservant。Husbandandwifethensatdownononesideofthetable,withtheirnieceoppositetothem。
“Myfathertoldmetobegin,“sheexplained。“Heisverybusywiththemen……YouknowMr。Pepper?“
Alittlemanwhowasbentassometreesarebyagaleononesideofthemhadslippedin。NoddingtoMr。Ambrose,heshookhandswithHelen。
“Draughts,“hesaid,erectingthecollarofhiscoat。
“Youarestillrheumatic?“askedHelen。Hervoicewaslowandseductive,thoughshespokeabsentlyenough,thesightoftownandriverbeingstillpresenttohermind。
“Oncerheumatic,alwaysrheumatic,Ifear,“hereplied。“Tosomeextentitdependsontheweather,thoughnotsomuchaspeopleareapttothink。“
“Onedoesnotdieofit,atanyrate,“saidHelen。
“Asageneralrule——no,“saidMr。Pepper。
“Soup,UncleRidley?“askedRachel。
“Thankyou,dear,“hesaid,and,asheheldhisplateout,sighedaudibly,“Ah!she’snotlikehermother。“HelenwasjusttoolateinthumpinghertumbleronthetabletopreventRachelfromhearing,andfromblushingscarletwithembarrassment。
“Thewayservantstreatflowers!“shesaidhastily。Shedrewagreenvasewithacrinkledliptowardsher,andbeganpullingoutthetightlittlechrysanthemums,whichshelaidonthetable-cloth,arrangingthemfastidiouslysidebyside。
Therewasapause。
“YouknewJenkinson,didn’tyou,Ambrose?“askedMr。Pepperacrossthetable。
“JenkinsonofPeterhouse?“
“He’sdead,“saidMr。Pepper。
“Ah,dear!——Iknewhim——agesago,“saidRidley。“Hewastheheroofthepuntaccident,youremember?Aqueercard。Marriedayoungwomanoutofatobacconist’s,andlivedintheFens——neverheardwhatbecameofhim。“
“Drink——drugs,“saidMr。Pepperwithsinisterconciseness。
“Heleftacommentary。Hopelessmuddle,I’mtold。“
“Themanhadreallygreatabilities,“saidRidley。
“HisintroductiontoJellabyholdsitsownstill,“wentonMr。Pepper,“whichissurprising,seeinghowtext-bookschange。“
“Therewasatheoryabouttheplanets,wasn’tthere?“askedRidley。
“Ascrewloosesomewhere,nodoubtofit,“saidMr。Pepper,shakinghishead。
Nowatremorranthroughthetable,andalightoutsideswerved。
Atthesametimeanelectricbellrangsharplyagainandagain。
“We’reoff,“saidRidley。
Aslightbutperceptiblewaveseemedtorollbeneaththefloor;
thenitsank;thenanothercame,moreperceptible。Lightsslidrightacrosstheuncurtainedwindow。Theshipgavealoudmelancholymoan。
“We’reoff!“saidMr。Pepper。Otherships,assadasshe,answeredheroutsideontheriver。Thechucklingandhissingofwatercouldbeplainlyheard,andtheshipheavedsothatthestewardbringingplateshadtobalancehimselfashedrewthecurtain。