Part 39 (1/2)

There was no answer, but the house reverberated again.

”Henry, have you got in?”

But it was the heart of the house beating, faintly at first, then loudly, martially. It dominated the rain.

It is the starved imagination, not the well-nourished, that is afraid.

Margaret flung open the door to the stairs. A noise as of drums seemed to deafen her. A woman, an old woman, was descending, with figure erect, with face impa.s.sive, with lips that parted and said dryly:

”Oh! Well, I took you for Ruth Wilc.o.x.”

Margaret stammered: ”I--Mrs. Wilc.o.x--I?”

”In fancy, of course--in fancy. You had her way of walking. Good-day.”

And the old woman pa.s.sed out into the rain.

CHAPTER XXIV

”It gave her quite a turn,” said Mr. Wilc.o.x, when retailing the incident to Dolly at tea-time. ”None of you girls have any nerves, really. Of course, a word from me put it all right, but silly old Miss Avery--she frightened you, didn't she, Margaret? There you stood clutching a bunch of weeds. She might have said something, instead of coming down the stairs with that alarming bonnet on. I pa.s.sed her as I came in. Enough to make the car shy. I believe Miss Avery goes in for being a character; some old maids do.” He lit a cigarette. ”It is their last resource.

Heaven knows what she was doing in the place; but that's Bryce's business, not mine.”

”I wasn't as foolish as you suggest,” said Margaret ”She only startled me, for the house had been silent so long.”

”Did you take her for a spook?” asked Dolly, for whom ”spooks”' and ”going to church” summarised the unseen.

”Not exactly.”

”She really did frighten you,” said Henry, who was far from discouraging timidity in females. ”Poor Margaret! And very naturally. Uneducated cla.s.ses are so stupid.”

”Is Miss Avery uneducated cla.s.ses?” Margaret asked, and found herself looking at the decoration scheme of Dolly's drawing-room.

”She's just one of the crew at the farm. People like that always a.s.sume things. She a.s.sumed you'd know who she was. She left all the Howards End keys in the front lobby, and a.s.sumed that you'd seen them as you came in, that you'd lock up the house when you'd done, and would bring them on down to her. And there was her niece hunting for them down at the farm. Lack of education makes people very casual. Hilton was full of women like Miss Avery once.”

”I shouldn't have disliked it, perhaps.”

”Or Miss Avery giving me a wedding present,” said Dolly.

Which was illogical but interesting. Through Dolly, Margaret was destined to learn a good deal.

”But Charles said I must try not to mind, because she had known his grandmother.”

”As usual, you've got the story wrong, my good Dorothea.”

”I meant great-grandmother--the one who left Mrs. Wilc.o.x the house.

Weren't both of them and Miss Avery friends when Howards End, too, was a farm?”

Her father-in-law blew out a shaft of smoke. His att.i.tude to his dead wife was curious. He would allude to her, and hear her discussed, but never mentioned her by name. Nor was he interested in the dim, bucolic past. Dolly was--for the following reason.

”Then hadn't Mrs. Wilc.o.x a brother--or was it an uncle? Anyhow, he popped the question, and Miss Avery, she said 'No.' Just imagine, if she'd said 'Yes,' she would have been Charles's aunt. (Oh, I say, that's rather good! 'Charlie's Aunt'! I must chaff him about that this evening.) And the man went out and was killed. Yes, I 'm certain I've got it right now. Tom Howard--he was the last of them.”

”I believe so,” said Mr. Wilc.o.x negligently.

”I say! Howards End--Howards Ended!” Dolly. ”I'm rather on the spot this evening, eh?”