“I musn’t leave anything,” she muttered.
She saw on a table an album containing pictures of Edward at all ages, the child with long curls, the urchin in knickerbockers, the schoolboy, the lover of her heart. She had persuaded him to be photographed in London during their honeymoon, and he was there in half a dozen positions. Bertha thought her heart would break as she destroyed them one by one, and it needed all the strength she had to prevent her from covering them with passionate kisses. Her fingers ached with the tearing, but in a little while they were all in fragments in the fireplace. Then she added the letters Edward had written to her, and applied a match. She watched them curl and frizzle and burn; and presently they were ashes.
She sank on a chair, exhausted by the effort, but quickly roused herself. She drank some water nerving herself for a more terrible ordeal; she knew that on the next few hours depended her future peace.
By now the night was late, a stormy night with the wind howling through the leafless trees. Bertha started when it beat against the windows with a scream that was nearly human. A fear seized her of what she was about to do, but she was driven on by a greater fear. She took a candle, and opening the door listened. There was no one; the wind roared with its long, monotonous voice, and the branches of a tree beating against a window in the passage gave a ghastly tap-tap, as if unseen spirits were near.
The living in the presence of death feel that the air about them is full of something new and terrible. A greater sensitiveness perceives an inexplicable feeling of something present, or some horrible thing happening invisibly. Bertha walked to her husband’s room, and for a while dared not enter. At last she opened the door; she lit the candles on the chimney-piece and on the dressing-table, then went to the bed. Edward was lying on his back, with a handkerchief bound round his jaw to hold it up, his hands crossed.
Bertha stood in front of the corpse and looked. The impression of the young man passed away, and she saw him as in truth he was, stout and red-faced; the vesicles of his cheeks stood out distinctly in a purple network; the sides of his face were bulgy as of late years they had become; and he had little side-whiskers. His skin was lined already and rough, the hair on the front of his head was scanty, and the scalp showed through, shining and white. The hands that had once delighted her by their strength, so that she compared them with the porphyry hands of an unfinished statue, now were repellent in their coarseness. For a long time their touch had a little disgusted her. This was the image Bertha wished to impress upon her mind. At last, turning away, she went out and returned to her own room.
* * *
Three days later was the funeral. All the mourning wreaths and crosses of beautiful flowers had poured in, and now there was quite a large gathering in the drive in front of Ley House. The Blackstable Freemasons (Lodge No. 31,899), of which Edward at his death was Worshipful Master, had signified their intention of attending, and now lined the road, two and two, in white gloves and aprons. There were likewise representatives of the Tercanbury Lodge (4169), of the Provincial Grand Lodge, the Mark Masons and the Knights Templars. The Blackstable Unionist Association sent one hundred Conservatives who walked two and two after the Freemasons. There was some dispute as to precedence between Bro. G. W. Havelock, C.P.W.U., who led the Blackstable Lodge (31,899), and Mr Atthill Bacot, who marched at the head of the politicians; but it was settled in favour of the Lodge, as the older established body. Then came the members of the Local District Council, of which Edward had been chairman, and after them the carriages of the gentry. Mrs Mayston Ryle sent a landau and pair, but Mrs Branderton, the Molsons and the rest only broughams. It needed a prodigious amount of generalship to marshal these forces, and Arthur Branderton lost his temper because the Conservatives would start before they were wanted to.
“Ah,” said Bro. A. W. Rogers (the landlord of “The Pig and Whistle”), “they want Craddock here now. He was the best organizer I’ve ever seen; he’d have got the procession into working order and the funeral over half an hour ago.”
The last carriage disappeared, and Bertha, alone at length, lay down by the window on the sofa. She was devoutly grateful to the old convention that prevented the widow’s attendance at the funeral.
She looked with tired and listless eyes at the long avenue of elm trees, bare of leaf. The sky was grey and the clouds were heavy and low. Bertha was now a pale woman of more than thirty, still beautiful, with curly and abundant hair, but her dark eyes had under them still darker lines, and their fire was dimmed; between her brows was a little vertical line, and her lips had lost the joyousness of youth; the corners of her mouth turned down sadly. Her face was very thin. She seemed weary. Her apathetic eyes said that she had loved and found love wanting, that she had been a mother and that her child had died, and that now she desired nothing very much but to be left in peace.
Bertha was indeed tired out, in body and mind, tired of love and hate, tired of friendship and knowledge, tired of the passing years. Her thoughts wandered to the future, and she decided to leave Blackstable; she would let Court Leys, so that in no moment of weakness might she be tempted to return. And first she intended to travel; she wished more easily to forget the past, to live in places where she was unknown. Bertha’s memory brought back Italy, the land of those who suffer in unfulfilled desire, the lotus-land;85 she would go there and she would go further, ever towards the sun. Now she had no ties on earth, and at last, at last she was free.
The melancholy day closed in, and the great clouds hanging overhead darkened with the approach of night. Bertha remembered how ready in her girlhood she had been to give herself to the world. Feeling intense fellowship with all human beings, she wished to throw herself into their arms, thinking that they would stretch them out to receive her. Her life seemed to overflow into the lives of others, becoming one with theirs as the waters of rivers become one with the sea. But very soon the power she had felt of doing all this departed; she recognized a barrier between herself and human kind, and felt that they were strangers. Hardly understanding the impossibility of what she desired, she placed all her love, all her faculty of expansion, on one person, on Edward, making a final effort as it were to break the barrier of consciousness and unite her soul with his. She drew him towards her with all her might, Edward the man, seeking to know him in the depths of his heart, yearning to lose herself in him. But at last she saw that what she had striven for was unattainable. I myself stand on one side, and the rest of the world on the other. There is an abyss between that no power can cross, a strange barrier more insuperable than a mountain of fire. Husband and wife know nothing of one another. However ardently they love, however intimate their union, they are never one; they are scarcely more to one another than strangers.
And when she had discovered this, with many tears and after bitter heartache, Bertha retired into herself. But soon she found solace. In her silence she built a world of her own, and kept it from the eyes of every living soul, knowing that none could understand. And then all ties were irksome, all earthly attachments unnecessary.
Confusedly thinking these things, Bertha’s thoughts reverted to Edward.
“If I had been keeping a diary of my emotions, I should close it today with the words, ‘My husband has broken his neck.’”
But she was pained at her own bitterness.
“Poor fellow,” she murmured. “He was honest and kind and forbearing. He did all he could, and tried always to act like a gentleman. He was very useful in the world, and in his own way he was fond of me. His only fault was that I loved him—and ceased to do so.”
By her side lay the book she had been reading while waiting for Edward. Bertha had put it down open, face downwards, when she rose from the sofa to have tea; it had remained as she left it. She was tired of thinking and, taking it now, began reading quietly.
Explanatory Notes
1. Mudie’s: Charles Edward Mudie’s lending library operated in Great Britain from 1842 to 1898.
2. Grimaldi’s dou
bleness: Francesco Maria Grimaldi (1618–1663), an Italian physicist, proposed that two beams of light acting together can somewhat neutralize each other.
3. Mr Richardson: Samuel Richardson (1689–1761), author of the novels Pamela: or, Virtue Rewarded (1740–1742), Clarissa: or, The History of a Young Lady (1747–1748), and The History of Sir Charles Grandison (1753–1754).
4. George II: King of Great Britain from 1727 to 1760.
5. knickerbockers: Loose-fitting breeches gathered in at the knee.
6. gaiters: Coverings of cloth or leather for the legs below the knee or for the ankle.
7. stock: Stiff wide band of leather or other material worn around the neck.
8. amorets: Cupid-like symbols of love.
9. hunter: Horse trained for hunting.
10. yeoman: Small landowner, farmer, middle-class person engaged in agriculture.
11. Newmarket trainer: Trainer of racehorses at Newmarket, famous for its races since the seventeenth century.
12. “ducks and drakes”: Game of making flat stones ricochet along the water.
13. “hobbledehoy”: Awkward, half-grown youth.
14. Becky Sharp . . . Amelia: In William Makepeace Thackeray’s novel Vanity Fair (1848), Becky Sharp is the ambitious, amoral, and energetic center of the action while Amelia Sedley is the wealthy, upper-class, colorless woman.
15. “dissenters”: Members of a sect that had separated itself from the Church of England.
16. Dean Farrar: Frederic William Farrar (1831–1903) was dean of Canterbury Cathedral and the author of a number of books, most notably a sentimental novel of school life, Eric: or Little by Little (1858).
17. Marie Corelli: Pen name of Mary Mackay (1855–1924), immensely popular author of twenty-eight romance novels.
18. “pot-boy”: Tavern owner’s assistant.
19. porphyry: Hard rock composed of crystals of red or white feldspar in a red matrix.
20. “sposo mio”: My husband.
21. iodoform: Antiseptic compound of iodine.
22. mésalliance: Marriage with a social inferior.
23. Baedeker: Travel guidebook.
24. Cook’s tourist: Traveler on a conducted tour offered by the British firm of Thomas Cook and Son.
25. Whitaker’s Almanack: Reference book published annually in Great Britain since 1868.
26. brougham: One-horse or electric carriage.
27. groom: Servant who cares for horses.
28. grampus: A blunt-headed dolphin like a cetacean that blows and spouts like a whale.
29. hair-pomade: Scented ointment.
30. Reckitt’s Blue: Laundry whitener.
31. Hippolytus of Phaedra: Euripides’ tragic play Hippolytus (428 B.C.) tells of the illicit passion of Phaedra for her stepson, Hippolytus.
32. dog-cart: Two-wheeled driving cart with cross seats back to back.
33. “en pension”: As a boarder.
34. “box-room”: Storage room.
35. hymeneal: Marital, from Hymen, the Greek and Roman God of Marriage.
36. La Rochefoucauld: François, duc de Rochefoucauld (1613–1680) was the leading exponent of a form of epigram that briefly expresses an unpalatable or paradoxical truth.
37. “Entre deux amants il y a toujours un qui aime et un qui se laisse aimer.”: “Between two lovers there is always one who loves and one who lets himself be loved.”
38. “Celui qui aime a toujours tort.”: “The one who loves is always wrong.”
39. “hack”: Horse for ordinary riding.
40. At Home: Entertainment of guests at times during which the hosts have designated that they will be at home.
41. gauds: Showy ornaments.
42. nux vomica: Bitter-tasting drug containing strychnine, used in the past as a tonic.
43. beer and skittles: Amusement, fun.
44. transpontine: Cheaply melodramatic, like the popular plays which used to be performed on the Surrey side of the Thames in London.
45. “crammer”: Lie.
46. femme incomprise: Misunderstood woman or wife.
47. Cook’s interpreters: Guidebooks for travelers produced by Thomas Cook and Son.
48. antimacassars: Coverings for chair backs to protect them from Macassar, a kind of hair oil.
49. pranked out: Dressed, adorned.
50. board-scholars: Boarding-school students.
51. “the letters of Madame de Sévigné”: Marie de Rabutin-Chantal, Marquise de Sévigné (1626–1696), wrote of contemporary news, social events, and her daily life in a famous collection of letters.
52. “glandered horses”: Horses suffering from glanders, a contagious disease.
53. “Fox”: Charles James Fox (1749–1806), British politician who contributed to the ending of the British slave trade.
54. “like good wine, needs no bush”: Superior things need no advertisement.
55. Burlington Arcade: Covered, fashionable shopping arcade off Piccadilly in London.
56. Tommy Atkins: Generic term for the common soldier in the British army.
57. Jack Tar: Generic term for the British sailor.
58. Joseph Chamberlain: Social reformer and politician who was an architect of British imperialism at the end of the nineteenth century.
59. pas seul: Dance for one person.
60. Lord Rosebery: Archibald Philip Primrose, 5th Earl of Rosebery, was prime minister of Great Britain from 1894 to 1895.
61. Amaryllis: Shepherdess in Greek mythology.
62. Bersaglieri: Italian sharpshooting corps.
63. Hyperion: In Greek mythology Hyperion was a Titan, the son of Gaea and Uranus.
64. “crammers”: Tutors who help students prepare for examinations.
65. “Sandhurst”: The Royal Military College Sandhurst is the British army officer training center.
66. “ooftish”: Money.
67. Corydon . . . Phyllis: Generic pastoral lovers, often a shepherd and shepherdess, in countless poems and songs.
68. “blue”: Squander.
69. patches: Small disks of black silk worn for adornment on either side of the face in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.
70. Captain Marryat: Frederick Marryat (1792–1848), popular adventure novelist.
71. Poor Jack: Marryat novel published in 1840.
72. Rigoletto: Opera (1851) by Giuseppe Verdi.
73. La Donna è mobile . . . Qual piuma al vento: A woman is fickle . . . Like a feather in the breeze.
74. “grass widower”: Man whose wife is temporarily absent.
75. cockade: Rosette worn in a hat as a badge of office.
76. “J.P.”: Justice of the Peace.
77. A celui qui console: To he who comforts.
78. Orlando Furioso: Romantic epic written over thirty years and completed in 1533 by Ludovico Ariosto, an Italian Renaissance poet.
79. Verlaine: Paul Verlaine (1844–1896), acclaimed French lyric poet.
80. Decline and Fall: Edward Gibbon’s The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (1776–88).
81. St. Simon: Louis de Rouvroy, duc de Saint-Simon (1675–1755), one of France’s greatest prose writers, was the author of the forty-one-volume Mémoires, published posthumously.
82. Dolorous Knight of La Mancha: Don Quixote, the central figure of Miguel de Cervantes’s novel El Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quixote de la Mancha (1605–1615).
83. Manon Lescaut: L’Histoire du Chevalier des Grieux et de Manon Lescaut (1731), a novel by Abbé Prévost, told of a young man of a good family who is ruined by his love of a courtesan.
84. picaroon: Rogue or roguish hero, such as Don Quixote.
85. lotus-land: Place of indolent enjoyment.
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