Part 64 (2/2)

”No, she would get up. But she had to go back to bed at once. She had a collapse.”

”Hm!”

He could not think of anything else to say.

”Haven't got to-night's _Signal_, have you?”

”Oh no!” said Maggie, astonished at such a strange demand. ”Hilda get off all right?”

”Yes, they went by the nine train.”

”She told me that she should, if she could manage it. I expect Mrs.

Tams was up there early.”

Edwin nodded, recalling with bitterness certain moments of the early morning. And then silence ensued. The brother and sister could not keep the conversation alive. Edwin thought: ”We know each other intimately, and we respect each other, and yet we cannot even conduct a meal together without awkwardness and constraint. Has civilisation down here got no further than that?” He felt sorry for Maggie, and also kindly disdainful of her. He glanced at her furtively and tried to see in her the girl of the far past. She had grown immensely older than himself.

She was now at home in the dreadful Hamps environment. True, she had an income, but had she any pleasures? It was impossible to divine what her pleasures might be, what she thought about when she lay in bed, to what hours she looked forward. First his father, then himself, and lastly Auntie Hamps had subjugated her. And of the three Auntie Hamps had most ruthlessly succeeded, and in the shortest time. And yet--Edwin felt--even Auntie Hamps had not quite succeeded, and the original individual still survived in Maggie and was silently critical of all the phenomena which surrounded her and to which she had apparently submitted. Realising this, Edwin ceased to be kindly disdainful.

Towards the end of the meal a heavy foot was heard on the stairs.

”Minnie!” Maggie called.

After shuffling and hesitation the sitting-room door was pushed ever so little open.

”Yes, miss,” said someone feebly.

”Why have you left Mrs. Hamps? Do you need anything?”

”Missis made me go, miss,” came the reply, very loosely articulated.

”Come in and take your bread,” said Maggie, and aside to Edwin: ”Auntie's at it again!”

After another hesitation the door opened wide, and Minnie became visible. She was rather a big girl, quite young, fat, too fair, undecided, obviously always between two minds. Her large ap.r.o.n, badly-fitting over the blue frock, was of a dubious yellow colour. She wore spectacles. Behind her spectacles she seemed to be blinking in confusion at all the subtle complexities of existence. She advanced irregularly to the table with a sort of nervous desperation, as if saying: ”I have to go through this ordeal.” Edwin could not judge whether she was about to smile or about to weep.

”Here's your bread,” said Maggie, indicating the two rounds of dry bread. ”I've left the dripping on the kitchen table for you.”

Edwin, revolted, perceived of course in a flash what the life of Minnie was under the regime of Auntie Hamps.

”Thank ye, miss.”

He noticed that the veiled voice was that of a rather deaf person.

Blus.h.i.+ng, Minnie took the bread, and moved away. Just as she reached the door, she gave a great sob, followed by a number of little ones; and the bread fell on to the carpet. She left it there, and vanished, still violently sobbing.

Edwin, spellbound, stopped masticating. A momentary sensation almost of horror seized him. Maggie turned pale, and he was glad that she turned pale. If she had shown by no sign that such happenings were unusual, he would have been afraid of the very house itself, of its mere sinister walls which seemed to shelter sick tyrants, miserable victims, and enchanted captives; he would have begun to wonder whether he himself was safe in it.

”What next?” muttered Maggie, intimidated but plucky, rising and following Minnie. ”Just go up to Auntie, will you?” she called to Edwin over her shoulder. ”She oughtn't really to be left alone for a minute.”

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