Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  But when the young man arrived nothing was visible on the Canon’s face save complete friendliness. They shook hands.

  “Ah, how good of you to come, dear Railing. So glad to see you.”

  “Winnie told me she’d be at home this afternoon.”

  “Of course I didn’t flatter myself that you’d come to see me,” laughed the Canon. “But in point of fact I’ve been wanting to have a little talk with you. It’s a very serious step that you young folks are taking.”

  “Then we’re wise to take it with a light heart,” cried Railing, gaily.

  “Ha, ha, capital! Now I should have thought you were both very young to be married.”

  “I am twenty-eight, sir, and Winnie is twenty-one.”

  “You neither of you look it,” murmured the Canon, with an amiable bow.

  “Possibly!”

  Canon Spratte pulled out the splendid cigarette-case in gold, with initials of diamonds, which a fond admirer had presented to him. He offered it to Railing.

  “No, thank you. I never smoke.”

  “I see you have no vices.” The Canon became so bland that it was overwhelming. “Now, my dear fellow, let us discuss this matter in the most cordial way. I need not tell you that I have the very highest esteem for you personally, and the sincerest admiration for your talents. But we live in an age when talent is not always rewarded according to its merits, and I am curious to know upon what you propose to live.”

  “My income is about a hundred and fifty a year and Winnie has three hundred from her mother.”

  “You are very well informed,” smiled the Canon, good-naturedly.

  “Winnie told me,” said Bertram, flushing.

  “Obviously! I didn’t suppose for a moment that you had examined the will at Somerset House. And do you imagine that Winnie will be content to live on four hundred and fifty pounds a year?”

  “It’s three times as much as my mother ever had.”

  “Possibly, but your mother — a most excellent person, Mr. Railing — has moved in rather a different stratum of society from my daughter.”

  “Do you think your daughter cares two straws for the gewgaws and the tawdry trappings of Society?” asked Bertram, scornfully.

  The Canon shrugged his shoulders.

  “I think my daughter is human, Mr. Railing; and although it may surprise you, I will confess that I think a carriage and pair absolutely essential to her happiness.”

  “I know Winnie, and I love her. You think she’s a doll and a fool. She was. But I have made her into a woman of flesh and blood. She’s a real woman now and she loathes all the shams and the shallowness of Society.”

  “She told you that, did she?” answered the Canon. “Upon my word, we Sprattes have a keen sense of humour.”

  Bertram sprang to his feet and crossed over to the Canon.

  “You think she cares for carriages and fine clothes. Her life was a mockery. She didn’t know what life was. She had no aspirations, no ideals. Of course she wasted herself on the frivolities of a foolish world. Thank God, she knows now how narrow this little circle is of idle, selfish people. She wants to work, she wants to labour with her fellow-men, shoulder to shoulder, fighting the good fight.”

  “And do you think, my dear young man, that it would ever have occurred to Winnie that the world was hollow and foolish, if you had a wart on the tip of your nose, or a squint in your eye? Upon my soul, you’re very unsophisticated.”

  “You believe that all people are bad.”

  “On the contrary, I’m so charitable as to think them merely foolish,” said Canon Spratte, with an acid smile of amusement.

  “Have you only sneers for the new life that fills your daughter’s eyes? She’s a different creature now. Oh, I believe in her, thank God, as she believes in me! She’s ready to take the journey with me only by her side. Ah, I know she loves me. You think I’m only a fortune-hunter; we don’t want your money, we shouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  “And you’re quite content that for you she should sacrifice everything?”

  “She flings away painted husks, dross, tinsel,” cried Bertram, vehemently. “She gains the whole world.”

  “Which means you and a villa in Peckham Rye. Upon my soul, you’re very modest.”

  Bertram looked at him steadily, thrusting forward his head with a searching air. He turned over in his mind all that the other had said.

  “What are you driving at?” he asked, at length. “Why don’t you say it out like a man, instead of beating about the bush?”

  “My dear Mr. Railing, I must beg you to observe the conventions of polite society. It is clearly my duty to inquire into the circumstances of any young man who proposes to marry my daughter.”

  Bertram gave a little hoarse laugh.

  “I distrusted you when you first agreed to our engagement. I knew you despised me. I knew that all your flattery was humbug. Say it straight out like a man.”

  Canon Spratte shrugged his shoulders, and spoke slowly and gravely.

  “Mr. Railing, I solemnly ask you to give up my daughter. After mature reflection I have come to the conclusion that the marriage is impossible, and I will never give my consent to it.”

  “We will do without it; we’re free, both of us, and we don’t care a button for you. Winnie has promised to marry me, and, by God, she shall.”

  “Do you absolutely disregard my express wishes?”

  “The matter concerns us alone, and no one else in the whole world.”

  Canon Spratte thoughtfully examined his finger-nails.

  On a sudden he had an inspiration. He had learned a fact from Mrs. Railing, which he thought at the time might prove useful, and here was the opportunity.

  “Well, Mr. Railing, it’s very painful to me to have to talk to you in this manner. It is true that some time ago I gave a provisional sanction to your engagement with Winnie, and I can perfectly understand that it should seem strange if I now resolutely forbid it. I have no doubt this is a great disappointment to you, and for that reason I excuse your heated language, which has been certainly wanting in courtesy. I am sure that when you are calmer you will regret some of the expressions you have seen fit to use. But I will tell you at once that I bear you on this account absolutely no ill-will.”

  “I’m much obliged to you, but I’m not aware that I’ve used any expression which I’m in the least likely to regret,” said Bertram, sharply.

  “Then, if I may say so, as a man much older than yourself, and as a clergyman, you show both your want of Christian charity and your ignorance of social amenities.... I beg you not to interrupt me,” he added, when he saw that Railing was about to make a rejoinder. “You will understand that I am not the man to wrangle like a fishwife.”

  “Will you tell me shortly what new objection you have to me, Canon Spratte?”

  “That is what I am about to do. It has come to my knowledge that your eldest sister is unfortunately in a lunatic asylum. I need not tell you that I regret this misfortune, but my views on the subject are very decided. With insanity among your relations, I feel that an alliance between your family and mine is out of the question.”

  “That’s absurd!” cried Railing. “Florrie had an accident when she was a child. She fell downstairs, and since then she’s been — —”

  “Not quite right in her head, as your mother expressed it, Mr. Railing. I should like you to observe, however, that every child falls downstairs, and the entire human race is not so imbecile as to need the restraint of a lunatic asylum.”

  Bertram’s eyes were fixed steadily on Canon Spratte. He tried to discover what lay at the back of the man’s mind, but could not. He saw only that behind that calm face, amid this resonance of polished phrase, something was being hidden from him.

  “I don’t believe a word you say. I’m not a child. I assure you it’s no good trying to hoodwink me. Tell me the simple truth.”

  The Canon flushed at this appeal and was nearly put out of countenance. H
e wondered if he should fly into a passion and order Railing out of the house. But it was doubtful whether the Socialist would go. He was a little disconcerted, too, by the steadfastness with which Bertram had resisted him, and the scorn wherewith he brushed aside his specious reasons. Canon Spratte was hot with anger. The taunts to which he had calmly listened, rankled in his heart, and he would have been pleased to show that none could thus treat him with impunity. But he seldom lost his temper unadvisedly, and he realized now that calmness gave him a decided advantage over the angry and excited suitor.

  “Are you quite sure that Winnie cares for you?” he asked, mildly.

  “As sure as I am of my own name and of my own life.”

  There was a pause. The Canon for a minute walked up and down the room; and then, holding himself very erect, stood still in front of Bertram. His voice was full of authority.

  “Well, it is my painful duty to inform you that you are mistaken. Winnie recognizes that she misjudged the strength of her affection.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Railing, full of scorn.

  “My patience must be inexhaustible. I am much tempted to kick you downstairs, Mr. Railing.”

  “You forget that I’m a working-man and horny-handed, so it’s safer not to try.”

  “It evidently hasn’t occurred to you that the manners of Peckham Rye are not altogether suitable to South Kensington,” smiled the Canon, blandly.

  “Well?”

  “Winnie has requested me to tell you that she finds she does not care for you enough to marry you. She regrets the inconvenience and unhappiness that she has caused, and desires you to release her.”

  Bertram grew white and he gathered himself together as a wild beast might, driven to bay.

  “It’s a lie!” he cried, furiously. “It’s a lie!”

  The Canon replied with the utmost calm.

  “You will have the goodness to remember that I am a minister of the Church and a son of the late Lord Chancellor of England.”

  “If it’s true, you’ve forced her to give me up. I know she loves me.”

  “You may think what you choose, Mr. Railing. The fact remains that she wishes to break off her engagement with you. As a man of honour there is obviously but one course open to you.”

  “You tell me I’m a man of honour and you treat me like a lackey. Do you think you can dismiss me like a servant? Don’t you know that my whole life’s happiness is at stake? She can’t send me away like that. It’s not true, it’s not true.”

  “On my honour as a gentleman, I have told you the exact truth,” replied Canon Spratte, gravely. Bertram seized the Canon’s arm.

  “Let her tell me herself. I must see her. Where is she?”

  “She’s gone out.”

  “But she knew I was coming here to-day. She expected me.”

  “Doesn’t that show you that what I have said is the simple truth? I wished to spare you both a painful scene.”

  Bertram hesitated. He could not tell whether Winnie was really out, but it seemed impossible to verify the statement. For a moment he looked straight into the Canon’s eyes, then without a word turned on his heel. Canon Spratte gave a sigh of relief.

  “What an escape!” he muttered. “Good Lord, what an escape!”

  XVII

  NEXT morning, when Winnie came down to breakfast, she found a letter from Bertram. She opened it with trembling hands. It began abruptly and consisted only of two lines.

  I shall wait for you to-day in Kensington Gardens at ten o’clock. I beg you to come.

  In the early days of their engagement, when Canon Spratte refused to hear Railing’s name mentioned, they had been used to walk together every morning. They met always at a particular spot. There were shady alleys, the scene of many pleasant conversations, which Winnie could not help remembering with delight. She dreaded the meeting he asked for, but felt that it was not in her to refuse. She had thought all night over the brief account her father had given of his interview with Bertram, and wished with all her heart now to explain personally why she had taken this step. She could not bear that he should think too hardly of her. The wounds she made seemed inevitable, but perhaps she could do something to make him see how impossible it was for her to act otherwise.

  Without saying a word to her father, Winnie went out immediately after breakfast, and when she arrived at the appointed place, found Bertram already there. He greeted her without a smile. He was very pale and she felt her own face burn with shame under his sad, questioning eyes. For a few minutes they talked of indifferent things, as though they could not bring themselves to attack the subject that filled their hearts. They sat down and for a while were silent. At last he turned round and looked at her gravely.

  “It’s true, then?” he said.

  “I’m very sorry,” she murmured, turning her face away.

  “When your father spoke to me I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. The whole thing seemed too horrible. Even now, I can’t convince myself that you really want me to give you up. I’ve not had it from your own lips yet.”

  “I want you to release me, Bertram. I can’t marry you.”

  “But why, why? The other day you said you loved me better than any one in the whole world. What have they done to turn you against me? Oh, I thought better of you than that, Winnie; I trusted you.”

  “I was mistaken when I thought I loved you,” she whispered.

  “They’re forcing you to give me up?”

  “No,” she answered, shaking her head. “No one has done anything to influence me.”

  “And yet, suddenly, with nothing to explain it, you send your father to say you’ve made a mistake; and don’t want to marry me. Oh, it’s shameful, it’s too cruel.”

  “Oh, Bertram, don’t speak like that,” she cried, looking at him at last.

  The unhappiness of his voice was very hard to bear and she could hardly restrain a sob. He looked at her with puzzled eyes. He was so wretched that his brain was all confused.

  “You loved me the other day,” he cried. “Oh, don’t be so cold. Tell me what there is to tell, Winnie. I love you so passionately. I can’t live without you.”

  “Forgive me. I’m awfully sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.”

  “Are you afraid because I’m poor and of mean birth? But you knew that before. Oh, I don’t understand; it seems impossible. I never dreamed you’d do this. I trusted you ten times more than I trusted myself.”

  “I’m not fit to be your wife,” she sobbed.

  “How can you sacrifice all that we planned so joyfully, the life of labour shoulder to shoulder and the fine struggle for our fellows?”

  “I should hate it,” she answered, hoarsely.

  He stared at her with surprise. He caught the immense vehemence of her expression and the little shiver of disgust that crossed her shoulders. They were silent again.

  “Oh, Bertram, try to understand,” said Winnie, at last. “I don’t want you to be unhappy, I want you to see that we’ve made a dreadful mistake. I thank God that we’ve discovered it before it was too late. I’m not made for the life you want me to lead. I should be utterly out of it. And all those meetings, and the agitations for things I don’t care two straws about! Oh, I loathe the very thought of it.”

  He looked before him as though the very foundations of the world were sinking. Winnie put her hand on his arm gently.

  “Don’t trouble about me, Bertram. I’m not worth it. You thought me different from what I am. You’ve never known me; you put another soul into my body, and you loved that. If you really knew me, you’d only despise me. You thought I could do heroic things, but I can’t. When I was enthusiastic about labour and temperance and all the rest, it was merely pose. I wanted you to think me clever and original. I was flattered because you spoke to me as if you thought my opinion worth having. But honestly I don’t like poor people; I hate grime and dirt; I can’t look upon them as my fellows; I don’t want to have anything to do with them. I
dare say poverty and crime are very dreadful, and the misery of the slums is heart-rending, but I don’t want to see it. I want to shut my eyes and forget all about it. Can’t you see how awful it would be if we married? I should only hamper you, and we’d both be utterly wretched.”

  “Your father said a carriage and pair was essential to your happiness. I told him I would stake my life on you. I told him that you despised the sham and the shallowness of Society.”

  “I suppose papa knows me,” said Winnie.

  “Oh, dearest, it can’t be true,” he cried, taking her hand. “You can’t mind whether you go on foot or in a gaudy carriage. Life is so full and there’s so much work to do. What can it matter so long as we do our duty?”

  “I know I’m a cad, but I must have decent things, and servants, and nice clothes. It’s vulgar and hateful and petty, but I can’t help it. I want to live as all my friends live. I haven’t the courage to give up all that makes life beautiful. It’s not just one act of heroism that it needs; it’s strength to be heroic day after day in a sort of dull, sordid fashion. And there can never be any escape from it; one has to make up one’s mind that it will last for ever. I see myself living in a shabby house in a horrid pokey street, with two dirty little maids, and I could almost scream. Oh, I couldn’t, Bertram.”

  “I thought you cared for me.”

  She did not answer.

  “It’s different for you,” she pleaded. “You’ve been brought up without all these things, and you don’t miss them. I daresay it’s utterly snobbish, but I can’t help it. I’ve been used to luxuries all my life; it’s just as impossible for me to go without them as it would be for you to go without a coat in winter. You think it’s very easy for me to do housework and to mend linen as your mother does, but d’you think it’s any easier than it would be for you who’ve worked with your brains, to mend roads from morning till night? I know girls who’ve done that sort of thing. I’ve seen the shifts with which they keep up appearances and the awful struggle to make both ends meet. I’ve seen their faces pinched with anxiety, and I’ve seen the wrench it causes when they must spend a shilling. I couldn’t stand it, Bertram. You’re quite right; I am afraid.”