Part 3 (2/2)
”Might I finish my sentence, please?”
”No.”
Charles clenched his teeth and sent the motor swerving all over the lane.
She screamed.
So they played the game of Capping Families, a round of which is always played when love would unite two members of our race. But they played it with unusual vigour, stating in so many words that Schlegels were better than Wilc.o.xes, Wilc.o.xes better than Schlegels. They flung decency aside. The man was young, the woman deeply stirred; in both a vein of coa.r.s.eness was latent. Their quarrel was no more surprising than are most quarrels--inevitable at the time, incredible afterwards. But it was more than usually futile. A few minutes, and they were enlightened. The motor drew up at Howards End, and Helen, looking very pale, ran out to meet her aunt.
”Aunt Juley, I have just had a telegram from Margaret; I--I meant to stop your coming. It isn't--it's over.”
The climax was too much for Mrs. Munt. She burst into tears.
”Aunt Juley dear, don't. Don't let them know I've been so silly. It wasn't anything. Do bear up for my sake.”
”Paul,” cried Charles Wilc.o.x, pulling his gloves off.
”Don't let them know. They are never to know.”
”Oh, my darling Helen--”
”Paul! Paul!”
A very young man came out of the house.
”Paul, is there any truth in this?”
”I didn't--I don't--”
”Yes or no, man; plain question, plain answer. Did or didn't Miss Schlegel--”
”Charles, dear,” said a voice from the garden. ”Charles, dear Charles, one doesn't ask plain questions. There aren't such things.”
They were all silent. It was Mrs. Wilc.o.x.
She approached just as Helen's letter had described her, trailing noiselessly over the lawn, and there was actually a wisp of hay in her hands. She seemed to belong not to the young people and their motor, but to the house, and to the tree that overshadowed it. One knew that she wors.h.i.+pped the past, and that the instinctive wisdom the past can alone bestow had descended upon her--that wisdom to which we give the clumsy name of aristocracy. High born she might not be. But a.s.suredly she cared about her ancestors, and let them help her. When she saw Charles angry, Paul frightened, and Mrs. Munt in tears, she heard her ancestors say, ”Separate those human beings who will hurt each other most. The rest can wait.” So she did not ask questions. Still less did she pretend that nothing had happened, as a competent society hostess would have done.
She said: ”Miss Schlegel, would you take your aunt up to your room or to my room, whichever you think best. Paul, do find Evie, and tell her lunch for six, but I'm not sure whether we shall all be downstairs for it.” And when they had obeyed her, she turned to her elder son, who still stood in the throbbing, stinking car, and smiled at him with tenderness, and without saying a word, turned away from him towards her flowers.
”Mother,” he called, ”are you aware that Paul has been playing the fool again?”
”It is all right, dear. They have broken off the engagement.”
”Engagement--!”
”They do not love any longer, if you prefer it put that way,” said Mrs.
Wilc.o.x, stooping down to smell a rose.
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