Part 54 (2/2)

Edwin closed the door of his bedroom with a sense of relief and of pleasure far greater than he would have admitted; or indeed could honestly have admitted, for it surpa.s.sed his consciousness. The feeling recurred that he was separated from the previous evening by a tremendous expanse of time. He had been flung out of his daily habits. He had forgotten to worry over the execution of his private programmes. He had forgotten even that the solemn thirtieth birthday was close upon him.

It seemed to him as if his own egoism was lying about in scattered pieces, which he must collect in the calm of this cloister, and reconstruct. He wanted to resume possession of himself, very slowly, without violent effort. He wound up his watch; the hour was not yet half-past ten. The whole exquisite night was his.

He had brought with him from the shop, almost mechanically, a copy of ”Harper's Magazine,” not the copy which regularly once a month he kept from a customer during the s.p.a.ce of twenty-four hours for his own uses, but a second copy which had been sent down by the wholesale agents in mistake, and which he could return when he chose. He had already seen the number, but he could not miss the chance of carefully going through it at leisure. Despite his genuine aspirations, despite his taste which was growing more and more fastidious, he found it exceedingly difficult to proceed with his regular plan of reading while there was an ill.u.s.trated magazine unexplored. Besides, the name of ”Harper's” was august. To read ”Harper's” was to acquire merit; even the pictures in ”Harper's” were too subtle for the uncultivated.

He turned over the pages, and they all appeared to promise new and strange joys. Such preliminary moments were the most ecstatic in his life, as in the lives of many readers. He had not lost sight of the situation created by his father's illness, but he could only see it very dimly through the semi-transparent pages.

TWO.

The latch clicked and the door opened slightly. He jumped, supposing that his father had crept upstairs. And the first thought of the slave in him was that his father had never seen the gas-stove and would now infallibly notice it. But Maggie's face showed. She came in very quietly--she too had caught the conspiratorial manner.

”I thought you wouldn't be ready for bed just yet,” she said, in mild excuse of her entry. ”I didn't knock, for fear he might be wandering about and hear.”

”Oh!” muttered Edwin. ”What's up?” Instinctively he resented the invasion, and was alarmed for the privacy of his sacred room, although he knew that Maggie, and Mrs Nixon also, had it at their mercy every day. n.o.body ever came into that room while he was in it.

Maggie approached the hearth.

”I think I ought to have a stove too,” she said pleasantly.

”Well, why don't you?” he replied. ”I can get it for you any time.” If Clara had envied his stove, she would have envied it with scoffing rancour, and he would have used sarcasm in response.

”Oh no!” said Maggie quickly. ”I don't really want one.”

”What's up?” he repeated. He could see she was hesitating.

”Do you know what Clara and auntie are saying?”

”No! What now? I should have thought they'd both said enough to last them for a few days at any rate.”

”Did Albert say anything to you?”

”What about?”

”Well--both Clara and auntie said I must tell you. Albert says he ought to make his will--they all think so.”

Edwin's lips curled.

”How do they know he hasn't made it?”

”Has he made it?”

”How do I know? You don't suppose he ever talks to me about his affairs, do you? Not much!”

”Well--they meant he ought to be asked.”

”Well, let 'em ask him, then. I shan't.”

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