Chapter1
Itbeganin
en
aWoman’sClubinLondononen
aFebruaryafternoon—anuncomfortableclub,og
andamiserableafternoon—whenMrs.Wilkins,som
whohadcomedownfromHampsteadtoshopog
andhadlunchedatherclub,tok
tookupTheTimesfromthetableinthesmoking-room,og
andrunningherlistlesseyened
downtheAgonyColumnsawdette
this:.ToThosewhoAppreciateWistaria
og
andSunshine.SmallmediaevalItalianCastleontheshoresoftheMediterraneantobeLetFurnishedforthemonthofApril.
Necessaryservantsremain.
Z,Box1000,TheTimes.
Det
Thatwasitsconception;yet,asinthe
tilfelle
caseofmanyanother,theconceiverwasunawareofitattheøyeblikket
moment.SoentirelyunawarewasMrs.WilkinsthatherAprilforthat
året
yearhadthenandtherebeensettledforherthatshedroppedthenewspapermed
withagesturethatwasbåde
bothirritatedandresigned,andgikk
wentovertothewindowog
andstareddrearilyoutatthedrippinggaten
street.Notforherweremediaevalcastles,
selv
eventhosethatarespeciallydescribedassmå
small.NotforhertheshoresinApriloftheMediterranean,
og
andthewistariaandsunshine.Slike
Suchdelightswereonlyforde
therich.Yettheadvertisement
hadde
hadbeenaddressedtopersonswhoappreciatedisse
thesethings,sothatithadde
hadbeen,anyhow,addressedtootohenne
her,forshecertainlyappreciateddem
them;morethananybodyknew;
mer
morethanshehadevertold.Men
Butshewaspoor.Inthe
hele
wholeworldshepossessedofherveryegen
ownonlyninetypounds,savedfromår
yeartoyear,putbycarefullypoundbypound,ut
outofherdressallowance.She
hadde
hadscrapedthissumtogetheratthesuggestionofherektemann
husbandasashieldandrefugemot
againstarainyday.Herdressallowance,
gitt
givenherbyherfather,was£100et
ayear,sothatMrs.Wilkins’sclotheswerewhatherektemann
husband,urginghertosave,kalt
calledmodestandbecoming,andheracquaintancetoeachother,når
whentheyspokeofheratall,whichwasseldomforshewasveldig
verynegligible,calledaperfectsight.Mr.
Wilkins,
en
asolicitor,encouragedthrift,exceptthatbranchofitwhichkom
gotintohisfood.Hedidnot
kalte
callthatthrift,hecalleditdårlig
badhousekeeping.Butforthethriftwhich,likemoth,penetratedintoMrs.Wilkins’sclothes
og
andspoiltthem,hehadmye
muchpraise.“Youneverknow,”he
sa
said,“whentherewillbeen
arainyday,andyoukan
maybeverygladtofinne
findyouhaveanest-egg.Indeedwe
begge
bothmay.”LookingoutoftheclubwindowintoShaftesburyAvenue—herswas
en
aneconomicalclub,butconvenientforHampstead,hvor
whereshelived,andforShoolbred’s,hvor
wheresheshopped—Mrs.Wilkins,having
stått
stoodtheresometimeverydrearily,hermind’seyeontheMediterraneaninApril,og
andthewistaria,andtheenviableopportunitiesoftherich,whileherbodilyeyeså
watchedthereallyextremelyhorriblesootyrainfaller
fallingsteadilyonthehurryingumbrellasog
andsplashingomnibuses,suddenlywonderedwhetherkanskje
perhapsthiswasnottherainydagen
dayMellersh—MellershwasMr.Wilkins—hadsooftenencouragedhertopreparefor,og
andwhethertogetoutofså
suchaclimateandintothelille
smallmediaevalcastlewasn’tperhapswhatProvidencehadallalongintendedhertogjøre
dowithhersavings.Partofhersavings,of
selvfølgelig
course;perhapsquiteasmall
del
part.Thecastle,beingmediaeval,
kan
mightalsobedilapidated,anddilapidationsweresurelycheap.Shewouldn’tintheleastminda
noen
fewofthem,becauseyoudidn’tbetalte
payfordilapidationswhichwereallerede
alreadythere;onthecontrary—byreducingthepriceyouhadto
betale
paytheyreallypaidyou.Men
Butwhatnonsensetothinkofit...Sheturned
bort
awayfromthewindowwiththesamme
samegestureofmingledirritationog
andresignationwithwhichshehadde
hadlaiddownTheTimes,og
andcrossedtheroomtowardsthedøren
doorwiththeintentionofgettinghermackintoshog
andumbrellaandfightinghervei
wayintooneoftheovercrowdedomnibusesog
andgoingtoShoolbred’sonhervei
wayhomeandbuyingsomesolesforMellersh’sdinner—Mellershwasdifficultmed
withfishandlikedonlysoles,exceptsalmon—whenshebeheldMrs.Arbuthnot,akvinne
womansheknewbysightasogså
alsolivinginHampsteadandbelongingtotheclub,satt
sittingatthetableinthemiddleoftherommet
roomonwhichthenewspapersog
andmagazineswerekept,absorbed,inhersin tur
turn,inthefirstpageofTheTimes.Mrs.
Wilkins
hadde
hadneveryetspokentoMrs.Arbuthnot,som
whobelongedtooneofde
thevariouschurchsets,andsom
whoanalysed,classified,dividedandregisteredde
thepoor;whereassheandMellersh,
når
whentheydidgoout,gikk
wenttothepartiesofimpressionistpainters,ofwhominHampsteadthereweremange
many.Mellershhadasisterwho
hadde
hadmarriedoneofthemog
andlivedupontheHeath,og
andbecauseofthisallianceMrs.Wilkinswasdrawnintoacirclewhichwashighlyunnaturaltohenne
her,andshehadlearnedtodreadpictures.Shehadto
si
saythingsaboutthem,andshedidn’tvisste
knowwhattosay.She
pleide
usedtomurmur,“Marvellous,”andfeelthatitwasnotnok
enough.Butnobodyminded.
Nobody
lyttet
listened.NobodytookanynoticeofMrs.Wilkins.
Shewas
den
thekindofpersonwhoisnotnoticedatparties.Herclothes,infestedbythrift,
gjorde
madeherpracticallyinvisible;her
ansiktet
facewasnon-arresting;herconversationwasreluctant;
shewasshy.
Og
Andifone’sclothesandansikt
faceandconversationareallnegligible,tenkte
thoughtMrs.Wilkins,whorecognisedherdisabilities,hva
what,atparties,isthereleftofen
one?Alsoshewasalways
med
withWilkins,thatclean-shaven,fine-lookingmann
man,whogaveaparty,merelybykomme
comingtoit,agreatluft
air.Wilkinswasveryrespectable.
Hewas
kjent
knowntobehighlythoughtofbyhisseniorpartners.Hissister’scircleadmired
ham
him.Hepronouncedadequatelyintelligentjudgmentsonart
og
andartists.Hewaspithy;
hewasprudent;
he
aldri
neversaidawordtoomye
much,nor,ontheotherside
hand,didheeversayet
awordtoolittle.Heproducedtheimpressionof
beholde
keepingcopiesofeverythinghesa
said;andhewassoobviouslyreliablethatitoften
skjedde
happenedthatpeoplewhomethimatdisse
thesepartiesbecamediscontentedwiththeiregne
ownsolicitors,andafteraperiodofrestlessnessextricatedthemselvesog
andwenttoWilkins.NaturallyMrs.Wilkinswasblotted
ut
out.“She,”saidhissister,
med
withsomethingherselfofthejudicial,den
thedigested,andthefinalinhermanner,“shouldstayathome.”Men
ButWilkinscouldnotleavehiskone
wifeathome.Hewas
en
afamilysolicitor,andallslike
suchhavewivesandshowdem
them.Withhisinthe
uken
weekhewenttoparties,og
andwithhisonSundayshegikk
wenttochurch.Beingstillfairlyyoung—hewasthirty-nine—andambitiousof
gamle
oldladies,ofwhomhehadnotyetacquiredinhispracticeet
asufficientnumber,hecouldnotaffordtoglipp
misschurch,anditwastherethatMrs.Wilkinsble
becamefamiliar,thoughneverthroughwords,med
withMrs.Arbuthnot.Shesawhermarshalling
de
thechildrenofthepoorintopews.She
ville
wouldcomeinattheheadoftheprocessionfromtheSundaySchoolexactlyfem
fiveminutesbeforethechoir,og
andgetherboysandgirlsneatlyfittedintotheirallottedseats,og
anddownontheirlittlekneesintheirpreliminaryprayer,og
andupagainontheirfeetjustsom
as,totheswellingorgan,thevestrydøren
dooropened,andthechoirog
andclergy,bigwiththelitaniesog
andcommandmentstheywerepresentlytorollut
out,emerged.Shehadasad
ansikt
face,yetshewasevidentlyefficient.Thecombination
pleide
usedtomakeMrs.Wilkinswonder,forshehadde
hadbeentoldbyMellersh,ondaysda
whenshehadonlybeenstand
abletogetplaice,thathvis
ifonewereefficientonewouldn’tbedepressed,og
andthatifonedoesone’sjobb
jobwellonebecomesautomaticallybrightog
andbrisk.AboutMrs.Arbuthnottherewas
ingenting
nothingbrightandbrisk,thoughmye
muchinherwaywiththeSundaySchoolbarn
childrenthatwasautomatic;but
da
whenMrs.Wilkins,turningfromthewindow,caughtsightofherintheclubshewasnotbeingautomaticatall,men
butwaslookingfixedlyaten
oneportionofthefirstpageofTheTimes,holder
holdingthepaperquitestill,hereyesnotbeveger
moving.Shewasjuststaring;
og
andherface,asusual,wastheansiktet
faceofapatientanddisappointedMadonna.Obeyinganimpulseshewonderedatevenwhileobeyingit,Mrs.Wilkins,theshy
og
andthereluctant,insteadofproceedingasshehadde
hadintendedtothecloakroomog
andfromthencetoSchoolbred’sinsearchofMellersh’sfish,stoppet
stoppedatthetableandsitt
satdownexactlyoppositeMrs.Arbuthnot,towhomshehadde
hadneveryetspokeninherliv
life.Itwasoneofthoselong,narrowrefectorytables,sothattheywere
ganske
quiteclosetoeachother.Mrs.
Arbuthnot,however,didnot
se
lookup.Shecontinuedtogaze,
med
witheyesthatseemedtobedrømmer
dreaming,atonespotonlyofTheTimes.Mrs.
Wilkins
så
watchedheraminute,tryingtoscrewopp
upcouragetospeaktohenne
her.Shewantedtoaskher
om
ifshehadseentheadvertisement.She
visste
didnotknowwhysheønsket
wantedtoaskherthis,men
butshewantedto.How
dumt
stupidnottobeabletosnakke
speaktoher.Shelookedso
snill
kind.Shelookedsounhappy.
Hvorfor
Whycouldn’ttwounhappypeoplerefresheachotherontheirveien
waythroughthisdustybusinessoflivet
lifebyalittletalk—real,naturalsnakk
talk,aboutwhattheyfelt,whattheyville
wouldhaveliked,whattheyfortsatt
stilltriedtohope?Andshe
kunne
couldnothelpthinkingthatMrs.Arbuthnot,også
too,wasreadingthatverysamme
sameadvertisement.Hereyeswereon
den
theverypartofthepaper.Was
hun
she,too,picturingwhatitville
wouldbelike—thecolour,thefragrance,thelyset
light,thesoftlappingoftheseaamongsmå
littlehotrocks?Colour,fragrance,
lys
light,sea;insteadofShaftesburyAvenue,
og
andthewetomnibuses,andde
thefishdepartmentatShoolbred’s,og
andtheTubetoHampstead,og
anddinner,andto-morrowthesamme
sameandthedayafterde
thesameandalwaysthesamme
same...SuddenlyMrs.Wilkins
fant
foundherselfleaningacrossthetable.“Areyoureading
om
aboutthemediaevalcastleandthewistaria?”she
hørte
heardherselfasking.NaturallyMrs.Arbuthnotwassurprised;
men
butshewasnothalfsomuchsurprisedasMrs.Wilkinswasatherselfforspørre
asking.Mrs.
Arbuthnothadnot
ennå
yettoherknowledgeseteyesonden
theshabby,lank,loosely-put-togetherfiguresittingoppositeher,med
withitssmallfreckledfaceog
andbiggreyeyesalmostdisappearingunder
underasmashed-downwet-weatherhat,og
andshegazedatheraøyeblikk
momentwithoutanswering.Shewasreading
om
aboutthemediaevalcastleandthewistaria,eller
orratherhadreadaboutitti
tenminutesbefore,andsincethenhadde
hadbeenlostindreams—oflys
light,ofcolour,offragrance,ofthesoftlappingoftheseaamongsmå
littlehotrocks...“Whydoyou
spør
askmethat?”shesaidinhergravevoice,forhertrainingof
og
andbythepoorhadmadehergraveog
andpatient.Mrs.
Wilkinsflushed
og
andlookedexcessivelyshyandfrightened.“Oh,
bare
onlybecauseIsawitogså
too,andIthoughtperhaps—Itenkte
thoughtsomehow—”shestammered.
WhereuponMrs.Arbuthnot,her
sinn
mindbeingusedtogettingfolk
peopleintolistsanddivisions,fromhabitconsidered,asshegazedthoughtfullyatMrs.Wilkins,under
underwhatheading,supposingshehadtoclassifyher,shekunne
couldmostproperlybeput.“AndI
kjenner
knowyoubysight,”wentonMrs.Wilkins,who,likealle
alltheshy,onceshewasstartedplungedpå
on,frighteningherselftomoreog
andmorespeechbythesheerlyden
soundofwhatshehadsaidsist
lastinherears.“EverySunday—I
ser
seeyoueverySundayinchurch—”.“Inchurch?”
echoedMrs.Arbuthnot.
“And
dette
thisseemssuchawonderfulthing—thisadvertisementom
aboutthewistaria—and—”.Mrs.
Wilkins,
som
whomusthavebeenatminst
leastthirty,brokeoffandwriggledinherchairmed
withthemovementofanawkwardog
andembarrassedschoolgirl.“Itseemssowonderful,”shewentonin
en
akindofburst,“and—itisså
suchamiserableday...”Og
AndthenshesatlookingatMrs.Arbuthnotmed
withtheeyesofanimprisonedhund
dog.“Thispoorthing,”thoughtMrs.Arbuthnot,whose
liv
lifewasspentinhelpingog
andalleviating,“needsadvice.”Sheaccordinglypreparedherselfpatientlyto
gi
giveit.“Ifyouseemeinchurch,”she
sa
said,kindlyandattentively,“Isupposeyoubor
liveinHampsteadtoo?”“Ohyes,”
sa
saidMrs.Wilkins.Andsherepeated,her
hode
headonitslongthinneckdroopingalittleasom
iftherecollectionofHampsteadbowedher,“Ohyes.”“Where?”
spurte
askedMrs.Arbuthnot,who,whenadvicewasneeded,naturallyførst
firstproceededtocollectthefacts.Men
ButMrs.Wilkins,layingherhånden
handsoftlyandcaressinglyonthedelen
partofTheTimeswheretheadvertisementwas,asom
thoughthemereprintedwordsofitwereprecious,onlysa
said,“Perhapsthat’swhythisseemssowonderful.”“No—I
tror
thinkthat’swonderfulanyhow,”saidMrs.Arbuthnot,glemme
forgettingfactsandfaintlysighing.“Thenyouwere
leste
readingit?”“Yes,”saidMrs.Arbuthnot,hereyes
går
goingdreamyagain.“Wouldn’titbewonderful?”
murmuredMrs.Wilkins.
“Wonderful,”
sa
saidMrs.Arbuthnot.Herface,
som
whichhadlitup,fadedintopatienceigjen
again.“Verywonderful,”shesaid.
“Butit’s
ingen
nousewastingone’stimetenke
thinkingofsuchthings.”“Oh,
men
butitis,”wasMrs.Wilkins’squick,surprisingreply;surprising
fordi
becauseitwassomuchunliketheresten
restofher—thecharacterlesscoatog
andskirt,thecrumpledhat,theundecidedwispofhår
hairstragglingout.“Andjusttheconsideringofthemisworth
stund
whileinitself—suchachangefromHampstead—andnoen ganger
sometimesIbelieve—Ireallydobelieve—ifoneconsidershardt
hardenoughonegetsthings.”Mrs.
Arbuthnotobservedherpatiently.
Inwhatcategory
ville
wouldshe,supposingshehadto,sette
puther?“Perhaps,”shesaid,leaningforwardalittle,“you
vil
willtellmeyourname.Hvis
Ifwearetobefriends”—shesmiledhergravesmile—“asIhåper
hopeweare,wehadbedre
betterbeginatthebeginning.”“Ohyes—howkindofyou.
I’mMrs.Wilkins,”
sa
saidMrs.Wilkins.“Idon’texpect,”sheadded,flushing,asMrs.Arbuthnot
sa
saidnothing,“thatitconveysanythingtoyou.Noen ganger
Sometimesit—itdoesn’tseemtoconveynoe
anythingtomeeither.But”—she
så
lookedroundwithamovementofseekinghelp—“IamMrs.Wilkins.”Shedidnot
likte
likehername.Itwasamean,small
navn
name,withakindoffacetioustwist,shetenkte
thought,aboutitsendliketheupwardcurveofapugdog’stail.Thereitwas,however.
Therewasno
gjøre
doinganythingwithit.Wilkinsshewas
og
andWilkinsshewouldremain;og
andthoughherhusbandencouragedhertogi
giveitonalloccasionsasMrs.Mellersh-Wilkinsshebare
onlydidthatwhenhewaswithinearshot,forshetrodde
thoughtMellershmadeWilkinsworse,emphasisingitinthemåten
wayChatsworthonthegate-postsofen
avillaemphasisesthevilla.Da
Whenfirsthesuggestedsheskulle
shouldaddMellershshehadobjectedfortheabovegrunn
reason,andafterapause—Mellershwasmye
muchtooprudenttospeakexceptetter
afterapause,duringwhichpresumablyhewastok
takingacarefulmentalcopyofhiscomingobservation—hesa
said,muchdispleased,“ButIamnoten
avilla,”andlookedatherashelookswhohåper
hopes,forperhapsthehundredthtime,thathemaynotha
havemarriedafool.Of
selvfølgelig
coursehewasnotavilla,Mrs.Wilkinsassuredham
him;shehadneversupposedhewas;
she
hadde
hadnotdreamedofmeaning...shewasonlyjust
tenkte
thinking...The
mer
moresheexplainedthemoreearnestble
becameMellersh’shope,familiartohimbydenne
thistime,forhehadthenbeenen
ahusbandfortwoyears,at
thathemightnotbynoen
anychancehavemarriedafool;og
andtheyhadaprolongedquarrel,ifthatkan
canbecalledaquarrelwhichisconductedmed
withdignifiedsilenceononesideog
andearnestapologyontheandre
other,astowhetherornoMrs.Wilkinshadde
hadintendedtosuggestthatMr.Wilkinswasavilla.“Ibelieve,”shehad
tenkt
thoughtwhenitwasatlastover—ittok
tookalongwhile—“thatanybodyville
wouldquarrelaboutanythingwhenthey’venotleftoffbeingsammen
togetherforasingledayforto
twowholeyears.Whatwe
begge
bothneedisaholiday.”“Myhusband,”wentonMrs.WilkinstoMrs.Arbuthnot,
prøver
tryingtothrowsomelightonherself,“isen
asolicitor.He—”
Shecast
om
aboutforsomethingshecouldsi
sayelucidatoryofMellersh,andfant
found:“He’sveryhandsome.”
“Well,”
sa
saidMrs.Arbuthnotkindly,“thatmå
mustbeagreatpleasuretoyou.”“Why?”
spurte
askedMrs.Wilkins.“Because,”saidMrs.Arbuthnot,
en
alittletakenaback,forconstantintercoursemed
withthepoorhadaccustomedhertoha
haveherpronouncementsacceptedwithoutspørsmål
question,“becausebeauty—handsomeness—isagiftsom
likeanyother,andifitisproperlyused—”.Shetrailedoffintosilence.
Mrs.Wilkins’s
store
greatgreyeyeswerefixedonher,og
anditseemedsuddenlytoMrs.Arbuthnotthatkanskje
perhapsshewasbecomingcrystallisedintoahabitofexposition,og
andofexpositionafterthemannerofnursemaids,gjennom
throughhavinganaudiencethatcouldn’tmen
butagree,thatwouldberedd
afraid,ifitwished,tointerrupt,thatdidn’tvisste
know,thatwas,infact,athermercy.Men
ButMrs.Wilkinswasnotlyttet
listening;forjustthen,absurdasitseemed,apicture
hadde
hadflashedacrossherbrain,og
andthereweretwofiguresinitsitter
sittingtogetherunderagreattrailingwistariathatstretchedacrossthebranchesofatreeshedidn’tkjente
know,anditwasherselfog
andMrs.Arbuthnot—shesawthem—sheså
sawthem.Andbehindthem,brightinsunshine,were
gamle
oldgreywalls—themediaevalcastle—sheså
sawit—theywerethere...ShethereforestaredatMrs.Arbuthnot
og
anddidnothearaord
wordshesaid.AndMrs.Arbuthnotstared
også
tooatMrs.Wilkins,arrestedbytheexpressiononheransiktet
face,whichwassweptbytheexcitementofwhatsheså
saw,andwasasluminousog
andtremulousunderitasvann
waterinsunlightwhenitisruffledbyen
agustofwind.At
dette
thismoment,ifshehadbeenaten
aparty,Mrs.Wilkinswouldha
havebeenlookedatwithinterest.Theystaredateachother;
Mrs.Arbuthnotsurprised,inquiringly,Mrs.Wilkins
med
withtheeyesofsomeonesom
whohashadarevelation.Of
selvfølgelig
course.Thatwashowit
kunne
couldbedone.Sheherself,shebyherself,couldn’taffordit,
og
andwouldn’tbeable,evenom
ifshecouldaffordit,togå
gothereallalone;butshe
og
andMrs.Arbuthnottogether...Sheleanedacrossthetable.
“Whydon’twe
prøver
tryandgetit?”shewhispered.
Mrs.
Arbuthnot
ble
becameevenmorewide-eyed.“Getit?”
sherepeated.
“Yes,”
sa
saidMrs.Wilkins,stillasom
thoughshewereafraidofbeingoverheard.“Notjust
sitte
sithereandsayHowwonderful,og
andthengohometoHampsteaduten
withouthavingputoutafinger—gohjem
homejustasusualandse
seeaboutthedinnerandthefishjustaswe’vebeendoingforyearsog
andyearsandwillgoondoingforyearsog
andyears.Infact,”saidMrs.Wilkins,flushingtotherootsofher
håret
hair,forthesoundofwhatshewassa
saying,ofwhatwascomingpouringut
out,frightenedher,andyetshecouldn’tstoppe
stop,“Iseenoendtodet
it.Thereisnoendtoit.
Sothatthereoughttobe
en
abreak,thereoughttobeintervals—ineverybody’sinterests.Hvorfor
Why,itwouldreallybebeingunselfishtogå
goawayandbehappyforalittle,fordi
becausewewouldcomebacksomye
muchnicer.Yousee,after
en
abiteverybodyneedsaholiday.”“But—howdoyou
mener
mean,getit?”askedMrs.Arbuthnot.
“Takeit,”
sa
saidMrs.Wilkins.“Takeit?”