Night and Day Read online

  CHAPTER XIV

  Mr. Clacton was in his glory. The machinery which he had perfected andcontrolled was now about to turn out its bi-monthly product, a committeemeeting; and his pride in the perfect structure of these assemblies wasgreat. He loved the jargon of committee-rooms; he loved the way in whichthe door kept opening as the clock struck the hour, in obedience toa few strokes of his pen on a piece of paper; and when it had openedsufficiently often, he loved to issue from his inner chamber withdocuments in his hands, visibly important, with a preoccupied expressionon his face that might have suited a Prime Minister advancing to meethis Cabinet. By his orders the table had been decorated beforehand withsix sheets of blotting-paper, with six pens, six ink-pots, a tumblerand a jug of water, a bell, and, in deference to the taste of the ladymembers, a vase of hardy chrysanthemums. He had already surreptitiouslystraightened the sheets of blotting-paper in relation to the ink-pots,and now stood in front of the fire engaged in conversation with MissMarkham. But his eye was on the door, and when Mary and Mrs. Sealentered, he gave a little laugh and observed to the assembly which wasscattered about the room:

  "I fancy, ladies and gentlemen, that we are ready to commence."

  So speaking, he took his seat at the head of the table, and arrangingone bundle of papers upon his right and another upon his left, calledupon Miss Datchet to read the minutes of the previous meeting. Maryobeyed. A keen observer might have wondered why it was necessary for thesecretary to knit her brows so closely over the tolerably matter-of-factstatement before her. Could there be any doubt in her mind that it hadbeen resolved to circularize the provinces with Leaflet No. 3, or toissue a statistical diagram showing the proportion of married womento spinsters in New Zealand; or that the net profits of Mrs. Hipsley'sBazaar had reached a total of five pounds eight shillings and twopencehalf-penny?

  Could any doubt as to the perfect sense and propriety of thesestatements be disturbing her? No one could have guessed, from the lookof her, that she was disturbed at all. A pleasanter and saner womanthan Mary Datchet was never seen within a committee-room. She seemed acompound of the autumn leaves and the winter sunshine; less poeticallyspeaking, she showed both gentleness and strength, an indefinablepromise of soft maternity blending with her evident fitness for honestlabor. Nevertheless, she had great difficulty in reducing her mind toobedience; and her reading lacked conviction, as if, as was indeed thecase, she had lost the power of visualizing what she read. And directlythe list was completed, her mind floated to Lincoln's Inn Fields and thefluttering wings of innumerable sparrows. Was Ralph still enticing thebald-headed cock-sparrow to sit upon his hand? Had he succeeded? Wouldhe ever succeed? She had meant to ask him why it is that the sparrows inLincoln's Inn Fields are tamer than the sparrows in Hyde Park--perhapsit is that the passers-by are rarer, and they come to recognize theirbenefactors. For the first half-hour of the committee meeting, Maryhad thus to do battle with the skeptical presence of Ralph Denham, whothreatened to have it all his own way. Mary tried half a dozen methodsof ousting him. She raised her voice, she articulated distinctly, shelooked firmly at Mr. Clacton's bald head, she began to write a note.To her annoyance, her pencil drew a little round figure on theblotting-paper, which, she could not deny, was really a bald-headedcock-sparrow. She looked again at Mr. Clacton yes, he was bald, and soare cock-sparrows. Never was a secretary tormented by so many unsuitablesuggestions, and they all came, alas! with something ludicrouslygrotesque about them, which might, at any moment, provoke her to suchflippancy as would shock her colleagues for ever. The thought of whatshe might say made her bite her lips, as if her lips would protect her.

  But all these suggestions were but flotsam and jetsam cast to thesurface by a more profound disturbance, which, as she could not considerit at present, manifested its existence by these grotesque nodsand beckonings. Consider it, she must, when the committee was over.Meanwhile, she was behaving scandalously; she was looking out of thewindow, and thinking of the color of the sky, and of the decorationson the Imperial Hotel, when she ought to have been shepherding hercolleagues, and pinning them down to the matter in hand. She could notbring herself to attach more weight to one project than to another.Ralph had said--she could not stop to consider what he had said, but hehad somehow divested the proceedings of all reality. And then, withoutconscious effort, by some trick of the brain, she found herself becominginterested in some scheme for organizing a newspaper campaign. Certainarticles were to be written; certain editors approached. What line wasit advisable to take? She found herself strongly disapproving of whatMr. Clacton was saying. She committed herself to the opinion that nowwas the time to strike hard. Directly she had said this, she felt thatshe had turned upon Ralph's ghost; and she became more and more inearnest, and anxious to bring the others round to her point of view.Once more, she knew exactly and indisputably what is right and whatis wrong. As if emerging from a mist, the old foes of the publicgood loomed ahead of her--capitalists, newspaper proprietors,anti-suffragists, and, in some ways most pernicious of all, the masseswho take no interest one way or another--among whom, for the time being,she certainly discerned the features of Ralph Denham. Indeed, when MissMarkham asked her to suggest the names of a few friends of hers, sheexpressed herself with unusual bitterness:

  "My friends think all this kind of thing useless." She felt that she wasreally saying that to Ralph himself.

  "Oh, they're that sort, are they?" said Miss Markham, with a littlelaugh; and with renewed vigor their legions charged the foe.

  Mary's spirits had been low when she entered the committee-room; but nowthey were considerably improved. She knew the ways of this world; it wasa shapely, orderly place; she felt convinced of its right and itswrong; and the feeling that she was fit to deal a heavy blow against herenemies warmed her heart and kindled her eye. In one of those flights offancy, not characteristic of her but tiresomely frequent this afternoon,she envisaged herself battered with rotten eggs upon a platform, fromwhich Ralph vainly begged her to descend. But--

  "What do I matter compared with the cause?" she said, and so on. Much toher credit, however teased by foolish fancies, she kept the surface ofher brain moderate and vigilant, and subdued Mrs. Seal very tactfullymore than once when she demanded, "Action!--everywhere!--at once!" asbecame her father's daughter.

  The other members of the committee, who were all rather elderly people,were a good deal impressed by Mary, and inclined to side with her andagainst each other, partly, perhaps, because of her youth. The feelingthat she controlled them all filled Mary with a sense of power; and shefelt that no work can equal in importance, or be so exciting as, thework of making other people do what you want them to do. Indeed, whenshe had won her point she felt a slight degree of contempt for thepeople who had yielded to her.

  The committee now rose, gathered together their papers, shook themstraight, placed them in their attache-cases, snapped the locks firmlytogether, and hurried away, having, for the most part, to catch trains,in order to keep other appointments with other committees, for they wereall busy people. Mary, Mrs. Seal, and Mr. Clacton were left alone; theroom was hot and untidy, the pieces of pink blotting-paper were lying atdifferent angles upon the table, and the tumbler was half full of water,which some one had poured out and forgotten to drink.

  Mrs. Seal began preparing the tea, while Mr. Clacton retired to his roomto file the fresh accumulation of documents. Mary was too much excitedeven to help Mrs. Seal with the cups and saucers. She flung up thewindow and stood by it, looking out. The street lamps were already lit;and through the mist in the square one could see little figures hurryingacross the road and along the pavement, on the farther side. In herabsurd mood of lustful arrogance, Mary looked at the little figures andthought, "If I liked I could make you go in there or stop short; I couldmake you walk in single file or in double file; I could do what I likedwith you." Then Mrs. Seal came and stood by her.

  "Oughtn't you to put something round your shoulders, Sally?" Mary asked,in rather a condescending ton
e of voice, feeling a sort of pity for theenthusiastic ineffective little woman. But Mrs. Seal paid no attentionto the suggestion.

  "Well, did you enjoy yourself?" Mary asked, with a little laugh.

  Mrs. Seal drew a deep breath, restrained herself, and then burst out,looking out, too, upon Russell Square and Southampton Row, and at thepassers-by, "Ah, if only one could get every one of those people intothis room, and make them understand for five minutes! But they MUST seethe truth some day.... If only one could MAKE them see it...."

  Mary knew herself to be very much wiser than Mrs. Seal, and when Mrs.Seal said anything, even if it was what Mary herself was feeling, sheautomatically thought of all that there was to be said against it.On this occasion her arrogant feeling that she could direct everybodydwindled away.

  "Let's have our tea," she said, turning back from the window and pullingdown the blind. "It was a good meeting--didn't you think so, Sally?" shelet fall, casually, as she sat down at the table. Surely Mrs. Seal mustrealize that Mary had been extraordinarily efficient?

  "But we go at such a snail's pace," said Sally, shaking her headimpatiently.

  At this Mary burst out laughing, and all her arrogance was dissipated.

  "You can afford to laugh," said Sally, with another shake of her head,"but I can't. I'm fifty-five, and I dare say I shall be in my grave bythe time we get it--if we ever do."

  "Oh, no, you won't be in your grave," said Mary, kindly.

  "It'll be such a great day," said Mrs. Seal, with a toss of her locks."A great day, not only for us, but for civilization. That's what I feel,you know, about these meetings. Each one of them is a step onwards inthe great march--humanity, you know. We do want the people after us tohave a better time of it--and so many don't see it. I wonder how it isthat they don't see it?"

  She was carrying plates and cups from the cupboard as she spoke, so thather sentences were more than usually broken apart. Mary could not helplooking at the odd little priestess of humanity with something likeadmiration. While she had been thinking about herself, Mrs. Seal hadthought of nothing but her vision.

  "You mustn't wear yourself out, Sally, if you want to see the greatday," she said, rising and trying to take a plate of biscuits from Mrs.Seal's hands.

  "My dear child, what else is my old body good for?" she exclaimed,clinging more tightly than before to her plate of biscuits. "Shouldn'tI be proud to give everything I have to the cause?--for I'm not anintelligence like you. There were domestic circumstances--I'd like totell you one of these days--so I say foolish things. I lose my head,you know. You don't. Mr. Clacton doesn't. It's a great mistake, to loseone's head. But my heart's in the right place. And I'm so glad Kit has abig dog, for I didn't think her looking well."

  They had their tea, and went over many of the points that had beenraised in the committee rather more intimately than had been possiblethen; and they all felt an agreeable sense of being in some way behindthe scenes; of having their hands upon strings which, when pulled, wouldcompletely change the pageant exhibited daily to those who read thenewspapers. Although their views were very different, this sense unitedthem and made them almost cordial in their manners to each other.

  Mary, however, left the tea-party rather early, desiring both to bealone, and then to hear some music at the Queen's Hall. She fullyintended to use her loneliness to think out her position with regard toRalph; but although she walked back to the Strand with this end in view,she found her mind uncomfortably full of different trains of thought.She started one and then another. They seemed even to take their colorfrom the street she happened to be in. Thus the vision of humanityappeared to be in some way connected with Bloomsbury, and fadeddistinctly by the time she crossed the main road; then a belatedorgan-grinder in Holborn set her thoughts dancing incongruously; andby the time she was crossing the great misty square of Lincoln's InnFields, she was cold and depressed again, and horribly clear-sighted.The dark removed the stimulus of human companionship, and a tearactually slid down her cheek, accompanying a sudden conviction withinher that she loved Ralph, and that he didn't love her. All dark andempty now was the path where they had walked that morning, and thesparrows silent in the bare trees. But the lights in her own buildingsoon cheered her; all these different states of mind were submerged inthe deep flood of desires, thoughts, perceptions, antagonisms, whichwashed perpetually at the base of her being, to rise into prominence inturn when the conditions of the upper world were favorable. She put offthe hour of clear thought until Christmas, saying to herself, as she lither fire, that it is impossible to think anything out in London and, nodoubt, Ralph wouldn't come at Christmas, and she would take long walksinto the heart of the country, and decide this question and all theothers that puzzled her. Meanwhile, she thought, drawing her feet up onto the fender, life was full of complexity; life was a thing one mustlove to the last fiber of it.

  She had sat there for five minutes or so, and her thoughts had had timeto grow dim, when there came a ring at her bell. Her eye brightened;she felt immediately convinced that Ralph had come to visit her.Accordingly, she waited a moment before opening the door; she wantedto feel her hands secure upon the reins of all the troublesome emotionswhich the sight of Ralph would certainly arouse. She composed herselfunnecessarily, however, for she had to admit, not Ralph, but Katharineand William Rodney. Her first impression was that they were bothextremely well dressed. She felt herself shabby and slovenly besidethem, and did not know how she should entertain them, nor could sheguess why they had come. She had heard nothing of their engagement. Butafter the first disappointment, she was pleased, for she felt instantlythat Katharine was a personality, and, moreover, she need not nowexercise her self-control.

  "We were passing and saw a light in your window, so we came up,"Katharine explained, standing and looking very tall and distinguishedand rather absent-minded.

  "We have been to see some pictures," said William. "Oh, dear," heexclaimed, looking about him, "this room reminds me of one of the worsthours in my existence--when I read a paper, and you all sat round andjeered at me. Katharine was the worst. I could feel her gloating overevery mistake I made. Miss Datchet was kind. Miss Datchet just made itpossible for me to get through, I remember."

  Sitting down, he drew off his light yellow gloves, and began slappinghis knees with them. His vitality was pleasant, Mary thought, althoughhe made her laugh. The very look of him was inclined to make her laugh.His rather prominent eyes passed from one young woman to the other, andhis lips perpetually formed words which remained unspoken.

  "We have been seeing old masters at the Grafton Gallery," saidKatharine, apparently paying no attention to William, and accepting acigarette which Mary offered her. She leant back in her chair, and thesmoke which hung about her face seemed to withdraw her still furtherfrom the others.

  "Would you believe it, Miss Datchet," William continued, "Katharinedoesn't like Titian. She doesn't like apricots, she doesn't likepeaches, she doesn't like green peas. She likes the Elgin marbles, andgray days without any sun. She's a typical example of the cold northernnature. I come from Devonshire--"

  Had they been quarreling, Mary wondered, and had they, for that reason,sought refuge in her room, or were they engaged, or had Katharine justrefused him? She was completely baffled.

  Katharine now reappeared from her veil of smoke, knocked the ash fromher cigarette into the fireplace, and looked, with an odd expression ofsolicitude, at the irritable man.

  "Perhaps, Mary," she said tentatively, "you wouldn't mind giving us sometea? We did try to get some, but the shop was so crowded, and in thenext one there was a band playing; and most of the pictures, at anyrate, were very dull, whatever you may say, William." She spoke with akind of guarded gentleness.

  Mary, accordingly, retired to make preparations in the pantry.

  "What in the world are they after?" she asked of her own reflection inthe little looking-glass which hung there. She was not left to doubtmuch longer, for, on coming back into the sitting-room with thetea-t
hings, Katharine informed her, apparently having been instructed soto do by William, of their engagement.

  "William," she said, "thinks that perhaps you don't know. We are goingto be married."

  Mary found herself shaking William's hand, and addressing hercongratulations to him, as if Katharine were inaccessible; she had,indeed, taken hold of the tea-kettle.

  "Let me see," Katharine said, "one puts hot water into the cups first,doesn't one? You have some dodge of your own, haven't you, William,about making tea?"

  Mary was half inclined to suspect that this was said in order to concealnervousness, but if so, the concealment was unusually perfect. Talkof marriage was dismissed. Katharine might have been seated in herown drawing-room, controlling a situation which presented no sort ofdifficulty to her trained mind. Rather to her surprise, Mary foundherself making conversation with William about old Italian pictures,while Katharine poured out tea, cut cake, kept William's plate supplied,without joining more than was necessary in the conversation. She seemedto have taken possession of Mary's room, and to handle the cups asif they belonged to her. But it was done so naturally that it bred noresentment in Mary; on the contrary, she found herself putting her handon Katharine's knee, affectionately, for an instant. Was there somethingmaternal in this assumption of control? And thinking of Katharine as onewho would soon be married, these maternal airs filled Mary's mind with anew tenderness, and even with awe. Katharine seemed very much older andmore experienced than she was.

  Meanwhile Rodney talked. If his appearance was superficially againsthim, it had the advantage of making his solid merits something of asurprise. He had kept notebooks; he knew a great deal about pictures.He could compare different examples in different galleries, and hisauthoritative answers to intelligent questions gained not a little, Maryfelt, from the smart taps which he dealt, as he delivered them, upon thelumps of coal. She was impressed.

  "Your tea, William," said Katharine gently.

  He paused, gulped it down, obediently, and continued.

  And then it struck Mary that Katharine, in the shade of herbroad-brimmed hat, and in the midst of the smoke, and in the obscurityof her character, was, perhaps, smiling to herself, not altogether inthe maternal spirit. What she said was very simple, but her words, even"Your tea, William," were set down as gently and cautiously and exactlyas the feet of a Persian cat stepping among China ornaments. For thesecond time that day Mary felt herself baffled by something inscrutablein the character of a person to whom she felt herself much attracted.She thought that if she were engaged to Katharine, she, too, wouldfind herself very soon using those fretful questions with which Williamevidently teased his bride. And yet Katharine's voice was humble.

  "I wonder how you find the time to know all about pictures as well asbooks?" she asked.

  "How do I find the time?" William answered, delighted, Mary guessed, atthis little compliment. "Why, I always travel with a notebook. And I askmy way to the picture gallery the very first thing in the morning. Andthen I meet men, and talk to them. There's a man in my office who knowsall about the Flemish school. I was telling Miss Datchet about theFlemish school. I picked up a lot of it from him--it's a way menhave--Gibbons, his name is. You must meet him. We'll ask him to lunch.And this not caring about art," he explained, turning to Mary, "it's oneof Katharine's poses, Miss Datchet. Did you know she posed? She pretendsthat she's never read Shakespeare. And why should she read Shakespeare,since she IS Shakespeare--Rosalind, you know," and he gave his queerlittle chuckle. Somehow this compliment appeared very old-fashioned andalmost in bad taste. Mary actually felt herself blush, as if he had said"the sex" or "the ladies." Constrained, perhaps, by nervousness, Rodneycontinued in the same vein.

  "She knows enough--enough for all decent purposes. What do you womenwant with learning, when you have so much else--everything, I shouldsay--everything. Leave us something, eh, Katharine?"

  "Leave you something?" said Katharine, apparently waking from a brownstudy. "I was thinking we must be going--"

  "Is it to-night that Lady Ferrilby dines with us? No, we mustn't belate," said Rodney, rising. "D'you know the Ferrilbys, Miss Datchet?They own Trantem Abbey," he added, for her information, as she lookeddoubtful. "And if Katharine makes herself very charming to-night,perhaps'll lend it to us for the honeymoon."

  "I agree that may be a reason. Otherwise she's a dull woman," saidKatharine. "At least," she added, as if to qualify her abruptness, "Ifind it difficult to talk to her."

  "Because you expect every one else to take all the trouble. I've seenher sit silent a whole evening," he said, turning to Mary, as he hadfrequently done already. "Don't you find that, too? Sometimes when we'realone, I've counted the time on my watch"--here he took out a large goldwatch, and tapped the glass--"the time between one remark and the next.And once I counted ten minutes and twenty seconds, and then, if you'llbelieve me, she only said 'Um!'"

  "I'm sure I'm sorry," Katharine apologized. "I know it's a bad habit,but then, you see, at home--"

  The rest of her excuse was cut short, so far as Mary was concerned,by the closing of the door. She fancied she could hear William findingfresh fault on the stairs. A moment later, the door-bell rang again, andKatharine reappeared, having left her purse on a chair. She soon foundit, and said, pausing for a moment at the door, and speaking differentlyas they were alone:

  "I think being engaged is very bad for the character." She shook herpurse in her hand until the coins jingled, as if she alluded merelyto this example of her forgetfulness. But the remark puzzled Mary;it seemed to refer to something else; and her manner had changed sostrangely, now that William was out of hearing, that she could not helplooking at her for an explanation. She looked almost stern, so thatMary, trying to smile at her, only succeeded in producing a silent stareof interrogation.

  As the door shut for the second time, she sank on to the floor in frontof the fire, trying, now that their bodies were not there to distracther, to piece together her impressions of them as a whole. And, thoughpriding herself, with all other men and women, upon an infallible eyefor character, she could not feel at all certain that she knew whatmotives inspired Katharine Hilbery in life. There was somethingthat carried her on smoothly, out of reach--something, yes, butwhat?--something that reminded Mary of Ralph. Oddly enough, he gaveher the same feeling, too, and with him, too, she felt baffled. Oddlyenough, for no two people, she hastily concluded, were more unlike. Andyet both had this hidden impulse, this incalculable force--this thingthey cared for and didn't talk about--oh, what was it?