Chapter1
Itbeganin
en
aWoman’sClubinLondononen
aFebruaryafternoon—anuncomfortableclub,og
andamiserableafternoon—whenMrs.Wilkins,som
whohadcomedownfromHampsteadtohandle
shopandhadlunchedatherclub,tok
tookupTheTimesfromthebordet
tableinthesmoking-room,andkjører
runningherlistlesseyedowntheAgonyColumnså
sawthis:.ToThosewhoAppreciateWistaria
og
andSunshine.SmallmediaevalItalianCastleontheshoresofthe
Middelhavet
MediterraneantobeLetFurnishedforthemonthofApril
April.Necessaryservantsremain.
Z,
Boks
Box1000,TheTimes.Thatwasits
oppfatning
conception;yet,asinthe
tilfelle
caseofmanyanother,theconceiverwasuvitende
unawareofitattheøyeblikket
moment.SoentirelyunawarewasMrs.Wilkinsthather
April
Aprilforthatyearhadthenog
andtherebeensettledforherthatshedroppet
droppedthenewspaperwithagest
gesturethatwasbothirritatedog
andresigned,andwentovertothevinduet
windowandstareddrearilyoutatthedrippinggaten
street.Notforherweremediaevalcastles,
selv
eventhosethatarespeciallybeskrevet
describedassmall.Notforhertheshoresin
April
ApriloftheMediterranean,andthewistariaog
andsunshine.Suchdelightswere
bare
onlyfortherich.Yettheadvertisement
hadde
hadbeenaddressedtopersonswhoappreciatedisse
thesethings,sothatithadde
hadbeen,anyhow,addressedtootohenne
her,forshecertainlyappreciateddem
them;morethananybodyknew;
mer
morethanshehadevertold.Men
Butshewaspoor.Inthe
hele
wholeworldshepossessedofherveryegen
ownonlyninetypounds,savedfromår
yeartoyear,putbynøye
carefullypoundbypound,outofherdressallowance.She
hadde
hadscrapedthissumtogetherattheforslag
suggestionofherhusbandasaskjold
shieldandrefugeagainstaregnfull
rainyday.Herdressallowance,
gitt
givenherbyherfather,was£100et
ayear,sothatMrs.Wilkins’sklær
clotheswerewhatherhusband,oppfordrer
urginghertosave,calledbeskjeden
modestandbecoming,andherbekjentskap
acquaintancetoeachother,whentheysnakket
spokeofheratall,whichwassjelden
seldomforshewasverynegligible,kalt
calledaperfectsight.Mr.
Wilkins,
en
asolicitor,encouragedthrift,exceptthatgrenen
branchofitwhichgotintohismaten
food.Hedidnotcallthatthrift,he
kalte
calleditbadhousekeeping.Butforthethriftwhich,like
møll
moth,penetratedintoMrs.Wilkins’sklær
clothesandspoiltthem,hehadde
hadmuchpraise.“Youneverknow,”he
sa
said,“whentherewillbeen
arainyday,andyoukan
maybeverygladtofinne
findyouhaveanest-egg.Ja
Indeedwebothmay.”Looking
ut
outoftheclubwindowintoShaftesburyAvenue—herswasen
aneconomicalclub,butconvenientforHampstead,hvor
whereshelived,andforShoolbred’s,hvor
wheresheshopped—Mrs.Wilkins,having
stått
stoodtheresometimeverydrearily,hermind’søye
eyeontheMediterraneaninApril
April,andthewistaria,andtheenviableopportunitiesoftherike
rich,whileherbodilyeyeså
watchedthereallyextremelyhorriblesootyrainfaller
fallingsteadilyonthehurryingumbrellasog
andsplashingomnibuses,suddenlywonderedom
whetherperhapsthiswasnottherainydagen
dayMellersh—MellershwasMr.Wilkins—hadsoofte
oftenencouragedhertopreparefor,og
andwhethertogetoutofså
suchaclimateandintothelille
smallmediaevalcastlewasn’tperhapswhatProvidence
Providencehadallalongintendedhertogjøre
dowithhersavings.Partofhersavings,of
selvfølgelig
course;perhapsquiteasmall
del
part.Thecastle,beingmediaeval,
kan
mightalsobedilapidated,anddilapidationsweresikkert
surelycheap.Shewouldn’tintheleastminda
noen
fewofthem,becauseyoudidn’tbetalte
payfordilapidationswhichwereallerede
alreadythere;onthecontrary—by
redusere
reducingthepriceyouhadtobetale
paytheyreallypaidyou.Men
Butwhatnonsensetothinkofit...Sheturned
bort
awayfromthewindowwiththesamme
samegestureofmingledirritationog
andresignationwithwhichshehadde
hadlaiddownTheTimes,og
andcrossedtheroomtowardsthedøren
doorwiththeintentionofgettinghermackintoshog
andumbrellaandfightinghervei
wayintooneoftheovercrowdedomnibusesog
andgoingtoShoolbred’sonhervei
wayhomeandbuyingsomesolesforMellersh’sdinner—Mellershwasvanskelig
difficultwithfishandlikedbare
onlysoles,exceptsalmon—whenshebeheldMrs.Arbuthnot,akvinne
womansheknewbysightasogså
alsolivinginHampsteadandtilhører
belongingtotheclub,sittingatthebordet
tableinthemiddleoftherommet
roomonwhichthenewspapersog
andmagazineswerekept,absorbed,inhersin tur
turn,inthefirstpageofTheTimes.Mrs.
Wilkins
hadde
hadneveryetspokentoMrs.Arbuthnot,som
whobelongedtooneofde
thevariouschurchsets,andsom
whoanalysed,classified,dividedandregistrert
registeredthepoor;whereasshe
og
andMellersh,whentheydidgikk
goout,wenttothepartiesofimpressionistpainters,ofwhominHampsteadthereweremange
many.Mellershhadasisterwho
hadde
hadmarriedoneofthemog
andlivedupontheHeath
Heath,andbecauseofthisalliansen
allianceMrs.Wilkinswasdrawnintoasirkel
circlewhichwashighlyunnaturaltohenne
her,andshehadlearnedtodreadpictures.Shehadto
si
saythingsaboutthem,andshedidn’tvisste
knowwhattosay.She
pleide
usedtomurmur,“Marvellous,”andfeelthatitwasnotnok
enough.Butnobodyminded.
Nobody
lyttet
listened.NobodytookanynoticeofMrs.Wilkins.
Shewas
den
thekindofpersonwhoisnotmerke
noticedatparties.Herclothes,infestedbythrift,
gjorde
madeherpracticallyinvisible;her
ansiktet
facewasnon-arresting;herconversationwasreluctant;
shewas
sjenert
shy.Andifone’sclothes
og
andfaceandconversationarealle
allnegligible,thoughtMrs.Wilkins,som
whorecognisedherdisabilities,what,atparties,isdet
thereleftofone?Alsoshewas
alltid
alwayswithWilkins,thatclean-shaven,fine-lookingmann
man,whogaveaparty,bare
merelybycomingtoit,en
agreatair.Wilkinswas
veldig
veryrespectable.Hewasknowntobe
høyt
highlythoughtofbyhissenior
seniorpartners.Hissister’scircle
beundret
admiredhim.Hepronouncedadequatelyintelligentjudgmentson
kunst
artandartists.Hewaspithy;
hewasprudent;
he
aldri
neversaidawordtoomye
much,nor,ontheotherside
hand,didheeversayet
awordtoolittle.Heproducedthe
inntrykk
impressionofkeepingcopiesofalt
everythinghesaid;andhewasso
åpenbart
obviouslyreliablethatitoftenskjedde
happenedthatpeoplewhomethimatdisse
thesepartiesbecamediscontentedwiththeiregne
ownsolicitors,andafteraperiode
periodofrestlessnessextricatedthemselvesog
andwenttoWilkins.NaturallyMrs.Wilkinswasblotted
ut
out.“She,”saidhissister,
med
withsomethingherselfofthejudicial,den
thedigested,andthefinalinhermåte
manner,“shouldstayathome.”Men
ButWilkinscouldnotleavehiskone
wifeathome.Hewas
en
afamilysolicitor,andallslike
suchhavewivesandshowdem
them.Withhisinthe
uken
weekhewenttoparties,og
andwithhisonSundayshegikk
wenttochurch.Beingstill
ganske
fairlyyoung—hewasthirty-nine—andambitiousofgamle
oldladies,ofwhomhehadnotyetacquiredinhispraksis
practiceasufficientnumber,hekunne
couldnotaffordtomisskirken
church,anditwastherethatMrs.Wilkinsble
becamefamiliar,thoughneverthroughwords,med
withMrs.Arbuthnot.Shesawhermarshalling
de
thechildrenofthepoorintopews.She
ville
wouldcomeinattheheadoftheprocessionfromtheSundaySchoolexactlyfem
fiveminutesbeforethechoir,og
andgetherboysandgirlspent
neatlyfittedintotheirallottedseats,og
anddownontheirlittlekneesintheirinnledende
preliminaryprayer,andupagainontheirfeetjustsom
as,totheswellingorgan,thevestrydøren
dooropened,andthechoirog
andclergy,bigwiththelitaniesog
andcommandmentstheywerepresentlytorulle
rollout,emerged.Shehad
et
asadface,yetshewasåpenbart
evidentlyefficient.ThecombinationusedtomakeMrs.Wilkins
undre
wonder,forshehadbeenfortalt
toldbyMellersh,ondaysda
whenshehadonlybeenstand
abletogetplaice,thathvis
ifonewereefficientonewouldn’tbedeprimert
depressed,andthatifonedoesone’sjobb
jobwellonebecomesautomaticallylys
brightandbrisk.AboutMrs.Arbuthnottherewas
ingenting
nothingbrightandbrisk,thoughmye
muchinherwaywiththeSundaySchoolbarn
childrenthatwasautomatic;but
da
whenMrs.Wilkins,turningfromthevinduet
window,caughtsightofherintheklubben
clubshewasnotbeingautomatisk
automaticatall,butwasså
lookingfixedlyatoneportionoftheførste
firstpageofTheTimes,holder
holdingthepaperquitestill,hereyesnotbeveger
moving.Shewasjuststaring;
og
andherface,asusual,wastheansiktet
faceofapatientandskuffet
disappointedMadonna.Obeyinganimpulseshewonderedatevenwhileobeyingit,Mrs.Wilkins,theshy
og
andthereluctant,insteadofvidere
proceedingasshehadintendedtothecloakroomog
andfromthencetoSchoolbred’sinsearchofMellersh’sfisk
fish,stoppedatthetableog
andsatdownexactlyoppositeMrs.Arbuthnot,towhomshehadde
hadneveryetspokeninherliv
life.Itwasoneofthoselong,
smale
narrowrefectorytables,sothattheywereganske
quiteclosetoeachother.Mrs.
Arbuthnot,
imidlertid
however,didnotlookup.She
fortsatte
continuedtogaze,witheyessom
thatseemedtobedreaming,atett
onespotonlyofTheTimes.Mrs.
Wilkins
så
watchedheraminute,tryingtoskru
screwupcouragetospeaktohenne
her.Shewantedtoaskher
om
ifshehadseentheadvertisement.She
visste
didnotknowwhysheønsket
wantedtoaskherthis,men
butshewantedto.How
dumt
stupidnottobeabletosnakke
speaktoher.Shelookedso
snill
kind.Shelookedsounhappy.
Hvorfor
Whycouldn’ttwounhappypeoplerefresheachotherontheirveien
waythroughthisdustybusinessoflivet
lifebyalittletalk—real,naturlig
naturaltalk,aboutwhattheyfelt,whattheyville
wouldhaveliked,whattheyfortsatt
stilltriedtohope?Andshe
kunne
couldnothelpthinkingthatMrs.Arbuthnot,også
too,wasreadingthatverysamme
sameadvertisement.Hereyeswereon
den
theverypartofthepaper.Was
hun
she,too,picturingwhatitville
wouldbelike—thecolour,theduften
fragrance,thelight,thesoftlappingofthehavet
seaamonglittlehotrocks?Farge
Colour,fragrance,light,sea;insteadofShaftesbury
Avenue
Avenue,andthewetomnibuses,og
andthefishdepartmentatShoolbred’s,og
andtheTubetoHampstead,og
anddinner,andto-morrowthesamme
sameandthedayafterde
thesameandalwaysthesamme
same...SuddenlyMrs.Wilkins
fant
foundherselfleaningacrossthebordet
table.“Areyoureadingaboutthemediaeval
slottet
castleandthewistaria?”she
hørte
heardherselfasking.NaturallyMrs.Arbuthnotwassurprised;
men
butshewasnothalfsomuchsurprisedasMrs.Wilkinswasatherselfforspørre
asking.Mrs.
Arbuthnothadnot
ennå
yettoherknowledgeseteyesonden
theshabby,lank,loosely-put-togetherfiguresittingoverfor
oppositeher,withitssmallfreckledansikt
faceandbiggreyeyesnesten
almostdisappearingunderasmashed-downwet-weatherhat,og
andshegazedatheraøyeblikk
momentwithoutanswering.Shewasreading
om
aboutthemediaevalcastleandthewistaria,eller
orratherhadreadaboutitti
tenminutesbefore,andsincethenhadde
hadbeenlostindreams—oflys
light,ofcolour,offragrance,ofthemyke
softlappingoftheseablant
amonglittlehotrocks...“Whydoyou
spør
askmethat?”shesaidinher
alvorlig
gravevoice,forhertrainingofog
andbythepoorhadmadeheralvorlig
graveandpatient.Mrs.
Wilkinsflushed
og
andlookedexcessivelyshyandfrightened.“Oh,
bare
onlybecauseIsawitogså
too,andIthoughtperhaps—Itenkte
thoughtsomehow—”shestammered.
WhereuponMrs.Arbuthnot,her
sinn
mindbeingusedtogettingfolk
peopleintolistsanddivisions,fromvane
habitconsidered,asshegazedthoughtfullyatMrs.Wilkins,under
underwhatheading,supposingshehadtoclassifyher,shekunne
couldmostproperlybeput.“AndI
kjenner
knowyoubysight,”wentonMrs.Wilkins,who,likealle
alltheshy,onceshewasstartedplungedpå
on,frighteningherselftomoreog
andmorespeechbytherene
sheersoundofwhatshehadde
hadsaidlastinherears.“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,
hvis
whoselifewasspentinhjelpe
helpingandalleviating,“needsadvice.”Sheaccordingly
forberedte
preparedherselfpatientlytogiveden
it.“Ifyouseemeinchurch,”she
sa
said,kindlyandattentively,“Isupposeyoubor
liveinHampsteadtoo?”“Ohyes,”
sa
saidMrs.Wilkins.Andshe
gjentok
repeated,herheadonitslongtynne
thinneckdroopingalittleasom
iftherecollectionofHampsteadbøyde
bowedher,“Ohyes.”“Where?”
spurte
askedMrs.Arbuthnot,who,whenråd
advicewasneeded,naturallyfirstfortsatte
proceededtocollectthefacts.Men
ButMrs.Wilkins,layingherhånden
handsoftlyandcaressinglyonthedelen
partofTheTimeswheretheadvertisementwas,asom
thoughthemereprintedwordsofitweredyrebare
precious,onlysaid,“Perhapsthat’sderfor
whythisseemssowonderful.”“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,fadedintotålmodighet
patienceagain.“Verywonderful,”she
sa
said.“Butit’snousewastingone’s
tid
timethinkingofsuchthings.”“Oh,
men
butitis,”wasMrs.Wilkins’sraske
quick,surprisingreply;surprisingbecauseitwasso
mye
muchunliketherestofher—thecharacterlesscoatog
andskirt,thecrumpledhat,theundecidedwispofhår
hairstragglingout.“Andjusttheconsideringofthemis
verdt
worthwhileinitself—suchaendring
changefromHampstead—andsometimesIbelieve—Ivirkelig
reallydobelieve—ifoneconsidershardt
hardenoughonegetsthings.”Mrs.
Arbuthnot
observerte
observedherpatiently.Inwhat
kategori
categorywouldshe,supposingshehadto,sette
puther?“Perhaps,”shesaid,leaning
fremover
forwardalittle,“youwillfortelle
tellmeyourname.Ifwearetobefriends”—shesmiledhergravesmile—“asI
håper
hopeweare,wehadbedre
betterbeginatthebeginning.”“Ohyes—howkindofyou.
I’mMrs.Wilkins,”
sa
saidMrs.Wilkins.“Idon’texpect,”she
la
added,flushing,asMrs.Arbuthnotsa
saidnothing,“thatitconveysanythingtoyou.Noen ganger
Sometimesit—itdoesn’tseemtoformidler
conveyanythingtomeeither.But”—she
så
lookedroundwithamovementofsøke
seekinghelp—“IamMrs.Wilkins.”Shedidnot
likte
likehername.Itwasamean,small
navn
name,withakindoffacetioustwist,shetenkte
thought,aboutitsendliketheoppover
upwardcurveofapugdog’shale
tail.Thereitwas,however.
Therewasno
gjøre
doinganythingwithit.Wilkinsshewas
og
andWilkinsshewouldremain;og
andthoughherhusbandencouragedhertogi
giveitonalloccasionsasMrs.Mellersh-Wilkinsshebare
onlydidthatwhenhewaswithinearshot,forshetrodde
thoughtMellershmadeWilkinsworse,emphasisingitinthemåten
wayChatsworthonthegate-postsofen
avillaemphasisesthevilla.Da
Whenfirsthesuggestedsheskulle
shouldaddMellershshehadobjectedfortheovennevnte
abovereason,andafterapause—Mellershwasmye
muchtooprudenttospeakexceptetter
afterapause,duringwhichantagelig
presumablyhewastakingaforsiktig
carefulmentalcopyofhiscomingobservation—hesa
said,muchdispleased,“ButIamnoten
avilla,”andlookedatherashelookswhohåper
hopes,forperhapsthehundredthtime,thathemaynotha
havemarriedafool.Of
selvfølgelig
coursehewasnotavilla
villa,Mrs.Wilkinsassuredhim;she
hadde
hadneversupposedhewas;she
hadde
hadnotdreamedofmeaning...shewasonlyjust
tenkte
thinking...The
mer
moresheexplainedthemoreoppriktig
earnestbecameMellersh’shope,familiartohimbydenne
thistime,forhehadthenbeenen
ahusbandfortwoyears,at
thathemightnotbynoen
anychancehavemarriedafool;og
andtheyhadaprolongedkrangel
quarrel,ifthatcanbecalledakrangel
quarrelwhichisconductedwithverdig
dignifiedsilenceononesideog
andearnestapologyontheandre
other,astowhetherornoMrs.Wilkinshadde
hadintendedtosuggestthatMr.Wilkinswasavilla
villa.“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,forkonstant
constantintercoursewiththepoorhadaccustomedhertoha
haveherpronouncementsacceptedwithoutspørsmål
question,“becausebeauty—handsomeness—isagiftsom
likeanyother,andifitisriktig
properlyused—”.Shetrailedoffinto
stillhet
silence.Mrs.Wilkins’sgreatgreyeyeswerefixedonher,
og
anditseemedsuddenlytoMrs.Arbuthnotthatkanskje
perhapsshewasbecomingcrystallisedintoavane
habitofexposition,andofexpositionetter
afterthemannerofnursemaids,gjennom
throughhavinganaudiencethatcouldn’tmen
butagree,thatwouldberedd
afraid,ifitwished,toavbryte
interrupt,thatdidn’tknow,thatwas,infaktisk
fact,athermercy.ButMrs.Wilkinswasnot
lyttet
listening;forjustthen,absurdasit
virket
seemed,apicturehadflashedover
acrossherbrain,andtherewereto
twofiguresinitsittingsammen
togetherunderagreattrailingwistariathatstretchedover
acrossthebranchesofatre
treeshedidn’tknow,anditwasherselfog
andMrs.Arbuthnot—shesawthem—sheså
sawthem.Andbehindthem,brightin
solskinn
sunshine,wereoldgreywalls—themediaevalcastle—sheså
sawit—theywerethere...She
derfor
thereforestaredatMrs.Arbuthnotog
anddidnothearaord
wordshesaid.AndMrs.Arbuthnot
stirret
staredtooatMrs.Wilkins,arrestert
arrestedbytheexpressiononheransiktet
face,whichwassweptbytheexcitementofwhatsheså
saw,andwasasluminousog
andtremulousunderitasvann
waterinsunlightwhenitisruffledbyen
agustofwind.At
dette
thismoment,ifshehadbeenaten
aparty,Mrs.Wilkinswouldha
havebeenlookedatwithinteresse
interest.Theystaredateachother;
Mrs.Arbuthnotsurprised,inquiringly,Mrs.Wilkins
med
withtheeyesofsomeonesom
whohashadarevelation.Of
selvfølgelig
course.Thatwashowit
kunne
couldbedone.Sheherself,shebyherself,couldn’t
råd
affordit,andwouldn’tbestand
able,evenifshecouldråd
affordit,togothereallalene
alone;butsheandMrs.Arbuthnot
sammen
together...Sheleaned
over
acrossthetable.“Whydon’twe
prøver
tryandgetit?”she
hvisket
whispered.Mrs.
Arbuthnotbecameeven
mer
morewide-eyed.“Getit?”
she
gjentok
repeated.“Yes,”saidMrs.Wilkins,
fortsatt
stillasthoughshewereredd
afraidofbeingoverheard.“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?”