A few days later the term drew to an end, and both dons and
undergraduates, whose tempers had been wearing a little thin, got
suddenly more genial, like guests when a visit draws to a close, and
disposed to think rather better of each other.
Howard had made no plans; he did not wish to stay on at Cambridge, but
he did not want to go away: he had no relations to whose houses he
naturally drifted; he did not like the thought of a visit; as a rule he
went off with an undergraduate or two to some lonely inn, where they
fished or walked and did a little work. But just now he had a vague
feeling that he wanted to be alone; that he had something to face, some
reckoning to cast up, and yet he did not know what it was.
One afternoon--the spring was certainly advancing, and there was a
touch of languor in the air, that heavenly languor which is so sweet a
thing when one is young and hopeful, so depressing a thing when one is
living on the edge of one's nervous force--he paid a call, which was
not a thing he often did, on a middle-aged woman who passed for a sort
of relation; she was a niece of his aunt's deceased husband, Monica
Graves by name. She was a woman of independent means, who had done some
educational work for a time, but had now retired, lived in her own
little house, and occupied herself with social schemes of various
sorts. She was a year or two older than Howard. They did not very often
meet, but there was a pleasant camaraderie between them, an almost
brotherly and sisterly relation. She was a small, quiet, able woman,
whose tranquil manner concealed great clear-headedness and
decisiveness. Howard always said that it was a comfort to talk to her,
because she always knew what her own opinion was, and did what she
intended to do. He found her alone and at tea. She welcomed him drily
but warmly. Presently he said, "I want your advice, Monnie; I want you
to make up my mind for me. I have a feeling that I need a change. I
don't mean a little change, but a big one. I am suddenly aware that I
am a little stale, and I wish to be freshened up."
Monica looked at him and said, "Yes, I expect you are right! You know I
think we ought all to have one big change in our lives, about your age,
I mean. Why don't you put in for a head-mastership? I have often
thought you have rather a gift that way."
"I might do that," said Howard vaguely, "but I don't want a change of
work so much as a change of mind. I have got suddenly bored, and I am a
little vexed with myself. I have always rather held with William Morris
that people ought to live in the same place and do the same things; and
I had no intention of being bored--I have always thought that very
feeble! But I have fallen suddenly into the frame of mind of knowing
exactly what all my friends here are going to say and think, and that
rather takes the edge off conversation; and I have learned the
undergraduate mind too. It's an inconsequent thing, but there's a law
in inconsequence, and I seem to have acquired a knowledge of their
tangents."
"I must consider," said Monica with a smile, "but one can't do these
things offhand--that is worse than doing nothing. I'll tell you what to
do NOW. Why not go and stay with Aunt Anne? She would like to see you,
I know, and I have always thought it rather lazy of you not to go
there--she is rather a remarkable woman, and it's a pretty country.
Have you ever been there?"
"No," said Howard, "not to Windlow; I stayed with them once when I was
a boy, when Uncle John was alive--but that was at Bristol. What sort of
a place is Windlow? I suppose Aunt Anne is pretty well off?"
"I'm not very good at seeing the points of a place," said Monica; "but
it's a beautiful old house, though it is rather too low down for my
taste; and she lives very comfortably, so I think she must be rich; I
don't know about that; but she is an interesting woman--one of the few
really religious people I know. I am not very religious myself, but she
makes it seem rather interesting to me--she has experiences--I don't
quite know what they are; but she is a sort of artist in religion, I
think. That's a bad description, because it sounds self-conscious; and
she isn't that--she has a sense of humour, and she doesn't rub things
in. You know how if one meets a real artist in anything--a writer, a
painter, a musician--and finds them at work, it seems almost the only
thing worth doing. Well, Aunt Anne gives me the same sort of sense
about religion when I am with her; and yet when I come away, and see
how badly other people handle it, it seems a very dull business."
"That's interesting," said Howard musingly; "but I am really ashamed to
suggest going there. She has asked me so often, and I have sent such
idiotic excuses."
"Oh, you needn't mind that," said Monica; "she isn't a huffy person. I
know she would like to see you--she said to me once that the idea of
coming didn't seem to amuse you, but she seemed disposed to sympathise
with you for that. Just write and say you would like to go."
"I think I will," said Howard, "and I have another reason why I should
like to go. You know Jack Sandys, your cousin, now my pupil. He is
rather a fascinating youth. His father is parson there, isn't he?"
"Yes," said Monica; "there are two hamlets, Windlow and Windlow Malzoy,
both in the same parish. The church and vicarage are at Malzoy; but
Frank is rather a terror--my word, how that man talks! But I like Jack,
though I have only seen him half a dozen times--that reminds me that I
must have him to dinner or something--and I like his sister even
better. But I am afraid that Jack may turn out a bore too--he is rather
charming at present, because he says whatever comes into his head; and
it's all quite fresh; but that is what poor Cousin Frank does--only
it's not at all fresh! However, there's nothing like living with a bore
to teach one the merits of holding one's tongue. Poor old Frank! I
thought he would be the death of us all one evening at Windlow. He
simply couldn't stop, and he had a pathetic look in his eye, as if he
was saying, 'Can't anyone assist me to hold my tongue?'"
Howard laughed and got up. "Well," he said, "I'll take your advice. I
don't know anyone like you, Monnie, for making up one's mind. You
crystallise things. I shall like to see Aunt Anne, and I shall like to
see Jack at home; and meanwhile will you think the matter over, and
give me a lead? I don't want to leave Cambridge at all, but I would
rather do that than go sour, as some people do!"
"Yes," said Monica, "when you get beneath the surface, Cambridge is
rather a sad place. There are a good many disappointed men here--people
who wake up suddenly in middle life, and realise that if they had gone
out into the world they would have done better; but I like Cambridge;
you can do as you like here--and then the rainfall is low."
Howard went back to his rooms and wrote a short note to Mrs. Graves to
suggest a visit; he added that he felt ashamed of himself for never
coming, "but Monica says that you would like to see me, and Monica is
generally right."
That evening Jack came in to say good-bye. He did not look forwards to
the vacation at all, he said; "Windlow is simply the limit! I believe
it's the dullest place in the kingdom!"
"What would you feel if I told you that we shall probably meet?" said
Howard. "I am going to stay with Mrs. Graves--that is, if she will have
me. I don't mind saying that the fact that you are close by is a
considerable reason why I think of going."
"That's simply splendid!" said Jack; "we will have no end of a time. Do
you DO anything in particular--fish, I mean, or shoot? There's some
wretched fishing in the river, and there is some rabbit-shooting on the
downs. Mrs. Graves has a keeper, a shabby old man who shoots, as they
say, for the house. I believe she objects to shooting; but you might
persuade her, and we could go out together."
"Yes," said Howard, "I do shoot and fish in a feeble way. We will see
what can be done."
"There are things to see, I believe," said Jack, "churches and houses,
if you like that sort of thing--I don't; but we might get up some
expeditions--they are rather fun. I think you won't mind my sister. She
isn't bad for a woman. But women don't understand men. They are always
sympathising with you or praising you. They think that is what men
like, but it only means that it is what they would like. Men like to be
left alone--but I daresay she thinks I don't understand her. Then
there's my father! He is quite a good sort, really; but by George, how
he does talk! I often think I'd like to turn him loose in the
Combination Room. No one would have a chance. Redmayne simply wouldn't
be in it with my father. I've invented rather a good game when he gets
off. I try to see how many I can count before I am expected to make a
remark. I have never quite got up to a thousand, but once I nearly let
the cat out by saying nine hundred and fifty, nine hundred and
fifty-one, when my father stopped for breath. He gave me a look, I can
tell you, but I don't think he saw what I was after. Maud was seized
with hysterics. But he isn't a bad sort of parent, as they go; he
fusses, but he lets one do as one wants. I suppose I oughtn't to give
my people away; but I never can see why one shouldn't talk about one's
people just as if they were anybody else. I don't think I hold things
sacred, as the Dean says: 'Reticence, reticence, the true
characteristic of the English gentleman and the sincere Christian!'"
and Jack delivered himself of some paragraphs of the Dean's famous
annual sermon to freshmen.
"It's abominable, the way you talk," said Howard; "you will corrupt my
ingenuous mind. How shall I meet your father if you talk like this
about him?"
"You'll have to join in my game," said Jack. "By George, what sport; we
shall sit there counting away alternately, and we will have some money
on the run. You have got to say all the figures quite distinctly to
yourself, you know!"
Presently Jack said, "Why shouldn't we go down together? No, I suppose
you would want to go first? I can't run to that. But you must come as
soon as you can, and stay as long as you can. I had half promised to go
and stay a week with Travers. But now I won't. By George, there isn't
another don I would pay that compliment to! It would simply freeze my
blood if the Master turned up there. I shouldn't dare to show my face
outside the house; that man does make me sweat! The very smell of his
silk gown makes me feel faint."
"I'll tell you what I will do," said Howard, "I'll give you some
coaching in the mornings. If anyone ever wanted coaching, it is you!"
Jack looked rather blue at this, but he said, "It will have to be
gratis, though! I haven't a cent. Besides, I am going to do better. I
have a growing sense of duty!"
"It's not growing very FAST!" said Howard, "and it's a feeble motive at
best, you will find; you will have to get a better reason than that--it
won't carry you far. Why not do it to please me?"
"All right," said Jack; "will you scribble me a list of books to take
down? I had meant to have a rest; but I would do a good deal of work to
get a reasonable person down at Windlow. I simply daren't ask my
friends there; my father would talk their hindlegs off but he isn't a
bad old bird."