Chapter 73
第七十三章
三周以后，米尔德丽德带着孩子上布赖顿，菲利普前往车站给她母女俩送行。她身体恢复得很快，菲利普发现她的气色比以往任何时候都好。她打算住在布赖顿一家食宿公寓里，她曾经同埃米尔·米勒在那儿度过两三个周末。她预先写了封信去，说她丈夫奉命去德国出差，她将带着孩子到那儿去度假。她津津乐道于自己编造的谎言，而且在编造细枝末节方面还颇有些想象力呢。米尔德南德打算在布赖顿找个乐意领养她孩子的保姆。看到她竟如此冷漠，急着要摆脱掉这个孩子，菲利普感到震惊。但她却口口声声说先让这孩子在别处呆段时间，然后再领回来，让孩子慢慢习惯在她身边生活，这样做要好得多，还说这是人之常情。菲利普曾想，她亲自带了两三个星期的孩子，总该唤起她做母亲的天性了，因此他企图借助这一点来帮助自己说服米尔德丽德能把孩子留在身边，可是根本就没有那回事。米尔德丽德对孩子也不能说不好，该做的事她都做了。有时这孩子也给她带来乐趣，而且她也常常三句话不离孩子的事儿。但是，她内心深处，对这孩子可一点感情也没有。她不能想象这孩子会是她身上的一块肉。她已经预感到这孩子长相像她生身父亲。她常常暗自纳闷，待这孩子长大以后，她还不知怎么办呢。想到自己当初怎么会那样傻，竟怀了这么个孩子，她不禁自怨自艾起来。
"要是我当初像现在这么清醒就好了，"她嘟哝了一句。
她嘲笑菲利普，因为他为了那孩子的幸福而操心，简直到了忧心如焚的地步。
"假如你是父亲的话，你就不会这么大惊小怪的了，"她说，"我倒想看看埃米尔为了这孩子而感到心乱如麻、坐卧不安的样子。"
菲利普曾经听人说起过育婴堂，以及有些可怜的孩子被他们的自私、狠心的父母扔进专以恐怖事情取乐的歹徒手中而惨遭虐待的事儿。眼下，他脑海里充斥着这些令人可怖的念头。
"别傻，"米尔德丽德说，"这是你出钱找个女人照看孩子。你一周出那么多钱，她们照顾好孩子，对她们自己也是有好处的呀。"
菲利普坚持要米尔德丽德把孩子交给自己没有生养过孩子的妇人抚养，并要她保证不再领别的孩子。
"别计较工钱，"他接着说，"我宁愿一周出半个畿厄，也不愿让这孩子去遭受饥饿或毒打。"
"你这个老伙计，还怪有趣的哩，菲利普。"
菲利普看到这孩子脆弱无力，任人处置，觉得怪揪心的。这个小东西，样子像个丑八怪，还动不动就大哭大闹发脾气。她是在生育她的人怀着耻辱、苦恼的期待中降临到人世间来的，谁也不要她，却全仗他这个陌生人为她提供吃的、住的，给她衣衫以遮掩其赤裸裸的躯体。
火车启动时，他吻了吻米尔德丽德。他本想也亲亲那个小家伙，可生怕米尔德丽德因此而讥笑他。
"你会给我来信的，亲爱的，是不？我盼望着你快点回来，哦，我简直都等不及了！"
"注意可要通过考试啊。"
近来他一直为通过考试而孜孜不倦地温习功课，眼下还剩下十天，他要作最后的冲刺。他急不可待地要通过考试：一来可省些自己的时间和费用，因为在过去四个月里，钞票以难以想象的速度从他的指缝里漏掉了；二来意味着单调乏味的课程就此结束。他要进入学习药物、妇产和外科的阶段，学习这三门课程显然要比迄今还在学的解剖学、生理学要有趣得多。菲利普怀着兴趣期待着余下的三门课程。他可不想到最后不得不向米尔德丽德坦白自己没有通过考试，尽管考试很难，绝大多数的考生第一次都没有及格。要是他考试不及格，他知道米尔德丽德对他就没有什么好印象了，她在表明自己的看法时，总是用一种与众不同的叫人下不了台的讥诮口吻。
米尔德丽德给他寄来了一张明信片，报了个平安。每天，他都从百忙中抽出半个小时给她写封长信。他历来羞于辞令，不过他发现，借助于手中的这枝秃笔，他可以把平时羞于启口的活儿都毫无顾忌地写下来告诉她。多亏了这一发现，他把自己的心里话对她倾筐地诉了个罄尽。他周身各处无不洋溢着他对米尔德南德的爱慕之情，因此他的每一个举动、每一个念头无不受之影响。可是，以前他一直没能向她一诉衷肠。他在信中畅谈了他对未来的憧憬，描绘展现在他面前的锦绣前程，同时也倾诉了自己对她的感激之情。他扪心自问，米尔德丽德身上究竟有些什么使得他整个心灵充满了无限的快乐（以往他也常常问自己，但从来没有用语言的方式来表达）。对此，他也说不清楚。他只知道有她在自己身边，他就感到无比幸福，而她一旦离他而去，那整个世界蓦地变得凄凉阴冷，黯然无光。他只知道一想起她，他那颗心啊，仿佛在体内逐渐增大，并剧烈地跳荡着，使得呼吸都发生了困难（就像那颗心在压迫肺似的）。此时，由于见到她而激起的一阵欢喜变成了近乎是一种隐痛，他的双腿打颤，感到一种莫名其妙的虚弱，仿佛他多时粒米未进，长期饥饿而变得四肢无力，摇摇欲倒似的。他急切地盼望着她的回信。他并不指望她经常来信，因为他了解写封信对米尔德丽德来说也不是件易事。她寄来了一封短笺，字迹歪歪扭扭的，算是对他前四封信的回答，不过，他也心满意足了。在这封短笺里，她描述了那幢食宿公寓，她在那儿订了个房间；说到了那儿的天气和孩子的情况；告诉他她同一位在食宿公寓结识的太太在公寓正门前散步，而这位太太还挺喜欢孩子的哩；还说她将于星期六晚上去看戏；最后提到布赖顿到处客满了。这封短信是那么的平淡无奇，倒也拨动了菲利普的情弦。那难辨认的字迹，以及这封信本身只是例行常礼这件事，无不勾引起了一种莫名其妙的欲念。他想放怀畅笑，将米尔德丽德一把搂抱在怀里，亲她个够。
他满怀信心和兴奋走进考场。没有哪张试卷有题目难倒他的。他知道这次考得不差。考试的第二部分是VIVA VOCE，虽说他在回答问题时显得有些紧张，但还是竭力给以恰如其分的回答。考试成绩一公布，他便给米尔德丽德拍了个报喜的电报。
他回到住处时，发现有她写来的一封信，信上说她认为她还是在布赖顿再呆一个星期的好，原因是她已经找到了一位妇人，每周只要七个先令就乐意给她带孩子，但她还想摸一摸这位妇人的情况。再说，她此去布赖顿经海风一吹，受益匪浅，因此再多呆些时日，肯定会给她带来无穷的好处。她实在不愿向菲利普讨钱，可要是他在回信时顺便捎上几个子儿，那是最好不过的了。因为她一直想给自己买顶新帽子，总不能让自己跟那些太太们出去散步时老是戴同一顶帽子呀，而她那位女朋友对穿戴还挺讲究的哩。好一会儿，菲利普感到凄苦和失望，因通过考试而欢天喜地的心情顿时化为乌有。
"要足她对我怀有的情意有我对她的那份情意的四分之一，那她也就决不忍心在外多呆一大的。"
但他很快就打消了这个念头。这纯粹是自私自利！她的健康当然比什么都要紧咯。但是眼下他无所事事，不妨去布赖顿和她一道度过这一周，这样他们俩从早到晚都可以厮守在一起了。想到这里，他的心不由得怦怦直跳。要是他突然出现在米尔德丽德的面前，并告诉她他已经在同一幢食宿公寓里订了个房间，那情景才有趣哩。他去查阅火车的时刻表，但又戛然驻步不前。米尔德丽德见到他会高兴，这一点他是有把握的。她在布赖顿结交了不少朋友。他一向沉默寡言，而米尔德丽德却喜欢热闹和恣情欢乐。他意识到她同别人在一起时要比跟他在一起快乐得多。如果他稍微感觉到自己在碍事，那他可受不了这个折磨。他不敢贸然行事，甚至也不敢写信暗示，说他眼下在城里闲着，很想到他可以天天看到她的地方去过上一周。她知道他空着无事，倘若她想叫他去，她早就会写信来说了。要是他提出要去，而她却提出种种借日叫他不去，他可不敢自讨这个苦吃。
翌日，他写了封信给她，还随信邮去五个英镑，最后他在信里带了一笔，说要是她好心想于周末见见他的话，他自己很乐意到她那儿去，不过她不必为此变动她原先的计划。他焦急地等待着她的回音。她在来信中说，要是她早知道的话，她就会为此作出安排，不过她已经答应人家于星期六晚上一道上杂耍剧场观看表演。此外，要是他呆在那儿的话，会招食宿公寓里的人议论的。他为何不可以在星期天早晨来并在那儿过上一天呢？这样，他们可以上梅特洛波尔饭店吃中饭，然后她带他去见见那个气宇不凡的贵妇人似的太太，就是这位太太马上要带她的孩子。
星期天。菲利普感谢大公作美，因为这大天气晴朗。列车驶近布赖顿时，缕缕朝晖，一泻如流，透过窗子照人车厢。米尔德丽德正伫立在月台上等候他。
"你跑来接我真好极了！"菲利普一边嚷道，一边紧紧地攥住她的手。
"你也真希望我来嘛，不是这样吗？"
"我想你一定会来的。啃，你的气色挺好的哩！"
"身体的确大有起色，不过我想我在这儿能呆多久就呆多久，这个想法是明智的。食宿公寓里的那些人都是上流社会的正经人。在与世隔绝了几个月之后，我真想提高提高自己的兴致。那会儿，有时还真闷死人了。"
她戴了顶新帽子，显得挺精神的。那是顶黑色大草帽，上面插着许多廉价的鲜花。她脖子上围着的一条长长的仿天鹅绒制品制成的围巾随风飘着。她依然很瘦，走路的时候脊背微微佝偻着（她历来如此），不过，她那双眼睛似乎不像以往那么大了。虽然她的皮肤从来没有什么特别的色泽，但原先那种土黄色已经褪去。他们并肩步向海边。菲利普记起自己已经有好几个月没同她一起散步了，他蓦地意识到自己是个跛子，为了掩饰自己的窘态，便迈着僵硬的步子向前走去。
"看到我你高兴吗？"他问米尔德丽德。此时此刻，他心里激荡着狂热的爱。
"我当然高兴咯。这还用问吗？"
"喂，格里菲思向你问好。"
"真不知害臊！"
菲利普曾在她面前谈论过格里菲思的好多事情。他告诉她格里菲思此人生性轻浮，还把格里菲思在得到菲利普恪守秘密的诺言后透露给他的一些自己所干的风流韵事讲给她听，以讨她的欢喜。米尔德丽德在一旁谛听着，有时会露出一种不屑一听的轻蔑神情，不过一般说来还是不无好奇。菲利普还把他那位朋友的俊美的外貌及其洒脱的举止大事铺陈了一番，说话间还夹带着一种羡慕赞叹的口吻。
"你肯定会跟我一样地喜欢他的。他那个人生性欢快、有趣，是个很好的好人。"
菲利普还告诉米尔德丽德，说还在他同格里菲思互不熟识的时候，当他病倒在床上时，格里菲思是如何照料他的。他这番叙述把格里菲思的见义勇为的事迹一事不漏地统统讲了出来。
"你会情不自禁地喜欢上他的，"菲利普说。
"我可不喜欢相貌很帅的男人，"米尔德丽德说。"在我看来，他们都太傲慢了。"
"他想同你结识结识。我经常在他面前说起你。"
"你同他说些什么来着？"米尔德丽德问道。
除了对格里菲思，菲利普没有人可以一诉自己对米尔德丽德的满腔情愫，就这样，他渐渐把他同米尔德丽德之间的关系全抖落给格里菲思所了。他不下五十次在格里菲思面前描绘了米尔德丽德的容貌。他用充满眷恋的口吻详详细细地描绘米尔德丽德的外表，连一个细节都不漏掉，因此格里菲思对她那双纤细的手是啥模样以及她的脸色有多苍白都知道得清清楚楚。当菲利普说到她那两片毫无血色然而却富有魅力的薄薄的嘴唇时，格里菲思便嘲笑起他来。
"啊！我高兴的是我可不像你那样拙劣地对待事物，"他说。"否则，人活在世上就没有意思了。"
菲利普莞尔一笑。格里菲思哪里懂得热恋的甜蜜，就好比人们须臾不可缺少的肉、酒和呼吸的空气。他晓得那姑娘怀孕时全仗菲利普照料，而眼下菲利普将同她一道外出度假。
"唔，我得说你理应得到报偿，"格里菲思对菲利普说。"这次你肯定破费了不少钱财。幸运的是，你有能力承担这笔费用。"
"我也是力不从心哪，"菲利普接着说。"不过，我才不在乎呢！"
天色尚早，还不到吃饭的时辰，菲利普和米尔德丽德坐在广场一个避风的角落里，一边享受着阳光的乐趣，一边目不转睛地望着广场上来往的游人。一些布赖顿的男店员，三三两两地一边走一边挥舞着手杖，一群群布赖顿的女店员，踏着欢快的步履向前走去，嘴里还不住地格格笑着。他们俩一眼就辨认出哪些人是从伦敦赶来消磨这一天的。空气中寒意料峭，使得那些伦敦佬显得身体困乏，精神萎顿。眼前走过一批犹太人，那些老太太们，身体敦实，裹着缎于衣服，浑身上下闪烁着珠光宝气，而男人们，个头矮小，体态臃肿，说话时总是配以丰富的手势。还有一些衣着考究的中年绅士，住在大旅馆里欢度周末。他们在吃过一顿丰盛的早餐之后，不辞辛劳地来回踱步，好使自己在用丰盛的午餐时胃口不减。他们互相校准钟点，在一起谈谈有关布赖顿博士的逸事或者聊聊海边的伦敦风光。间或走过一位遐迩闻名的演员，引起了所有在场的人们的注目，对。此，这位名演员摆出一副毫不觉察的神气。时而，他身穿装有阿斯特拉罕羔皮领子的外套，脚上套双漆皮靴子，手里拄着根银质把手的手杖；时而，他上身披着宽大的哈立斯粗花呢有带长袍，下身套条灯笼裤，后脑勺上覆盖一顶花呢帽，悠然自得地溜达着，像是刚打完猎回来似的。阳光洒在蓝色的海面上。蔚蓝的大海，一平如镜。
中餐过后，他们俩便上霍夫去看望那位领养孩子的妇人。这位妇人住在后街的一所小房子里。房子虽小，收拾得倒整整洁洁。她叫哈丁太太，一位中年模样、身体健旺的妇人，头发花白，脸膛红红的，而且很丰满。她戴了顶帽子，一副慈母相，因此菲利普认为她看来似乎是位面善心慈的太太。
"你不觉得带孩子是桩十分讨厌的苦差事吗？"菲利普向那位妇人说。
那位妇人对他们两位解释说，她的丈夫是个副牧师，年龄要比她大出许多。教区的牧师们都想录用年轻人当他们的助手，这样一来，她的丈夫就很难谋得一个永久性的职位，只得在有人外出度假或病倒在床时去代职，挣得几个子儿。另外，某个慈善机构施舍给他们夫妇俩一笔小小的救济金。她感到很孤独，因此领个孩子带带兴许会使生活稍有生气。再说，由照料孩子而挣得的几个先令也可以帮她维持生计。她许诺一定把孩子喂养得白白胖胖的。
"她真像是位高贵的太太，是不？"在他们俩告辞出来后，米尔德丽德对菲利普说。
他们俩回到梅特洛波尔饭店去用茶点。米尔德丽德喜欢那里的人群和乐队。菲利普懒得说话。在米尔德丽德目光炯炯地盯视着走进店来的女客身上的服饰的当儿，他在一旁默默地凝视着她的脸。她有一种特殊的洞察力，一眼就能看出哪些东西值多少钱。她不时地向菲利普倾过身子，低声报告她观察的结果。
"你瞧见那儿的白鹭羽毛了吗？每一根羽毛就值七个畿尼呢！"
没隔一会儿，她又说："快看那件貂皮长袍，菲利普。那是兔皮，那是--那不是貂皮。"她得意地哈哈笑着。"我老远就可以一眼认出来。"
菲利普喜形于色。看到她这么快乐，他也感到高兴，她那机智的谈锋使得他乐不可支，深受感动。那边的乐队奏起凄楚动人的乐曲。
晚饭后，他们俩朝火车站走去。这当儿，菲利普挽起了米尔德丽德的手臂。他把他为法国之行所作的安排告诉了她。他要米尔德丽德本周末返回伦敦，但她却说在下周六以前回不了伦敦。他已经在巴黎一家旅馆里订了个房间。他热切地盼望能订到车票。
"我们坐二等车厢去巴黎，你不会反对吧？我们花钱可不能大手大脚啊，只要我们到了那儿玩得痛快，就比什么都强。"
菲利普在她面前谈起拉丁区已不下一百次了。他们将在该区的古色古香亲切可人的大街小巷间信步漫游，将悠闲地坐在卢森堡大公园的花园里。在巴黎玩够了以后，要是天公作美，他们还可以上枫丹白露。届时，树枝都将抽出新叶。早春时分，森林一片葱绿，那景致比啥都要美。它好比是支颂歌，宛如甜蜜之中夹带丝丝幽忧的爱情。米尔德丽德默默地倾听着。他转眸凝视着她。"你很想来，是不？"他问道。
"那当然咯，"她说罢嫣然一笑。
"你不知道我是多么殷切地盼望着此行早日到来。以后这几天我还不知道怎么过呢，生怕节外生枝，使得此行落空。有时候，因为我说不清我对你怀有多么深的爱情，我简直要发疯了。这下好了，最后，终于……"
他戛然而止。他们已经来到车站。刚才在路上耽搁太久了，因此菲利普向米尔德丽德道别都来不及了，只是匆匆吻了她一下，随即撒腿朝售票口拚命奔去。她站在原地没动。他跑步的姿势实在别扭、难看。
Three weeks later Philip saw Mildred and her baby off to Brighton. She had made a quick recovery and looked better than he had ever seen her. She was going to a boarding-house where she had spent a couple of weekends with Emil Miller, and had written to say that her husband was obliged to go to Germany on business and she was coming down with her baby. She got pleasure out of the stories she invented, and she showed a certain fertility of invention in the working out of the details. Mildred proposed to find in Brighton some woman who would be willing to take charge of the baby. Philip was startled at the callousness with which she insisted on getting rid of it so soon, but she argued with common sense that the poor child had much better be put somewhere before it grew used to her. Philip had expected the maternal instinct to make itself felt when she had had the baby two or three weeks and had counted on this to help him persuade her to keep it; but nothing of the sort occurred. Mildred was not unkind to her baby; she did all that was necessary; it amused her sometimes, and she talked about it a good deal; but at heart she was indifferent to it. She could not look upon it as part of herself. She fancied it resembled its father already. She was continually wondering how she would manage when it grew older; and she was exasperated with herself for being such a fool as to have it at all.
‘If I’d only known then all I do now,’ she said.
She laughed at Philip, because he was anxious about its welfare.
‘You couldn’t make more fuss if you was the father,’ she said. ‘I’d like to see Emil getting into such a stew about it.’
Philip’s mind was full of the stories he had heard of baby-farming and the ghouls who ill-treat the wretched children that selfish, cruel parents have put in their charge.
‘Don’t be so silly,’ said Mildred. ‘That’s when you give a woman a sum down to look after a baby. But when you’re going to pay so much a week it’s to their interest to look after it well.’
Philip insisted that Mildred should place the child with people who had no children of their own and would promise to take no other.
‘Don’t haggle about the price,’ he said. ‘I’d rather pay half a guinea a week than run any risk of the kid being starved or beaten.’
‘You’re a funny old thing, Philip,’ she laughed.
To him there was something very touching in the child’s helplessness. It was small, ugly, and querulous. Its birth had been looked forward to with shame and anguish. Nobody wanted it. It was dependent on him, a stranger, for food, shelter, and clothes to cover its nakedness.
As the train started he kissed Mildred. He would have kissed the baby too, but he was afraid she would laugh at him.
‘You will write to me, darling, won’t you? And I shall look forward to your coming back with oh! such impatience.’
‘Mind you get through your exam.’
He had been working for it industriously, and now with only ten days before him he made a final effort. He was very anxious to pass, first to save himself time and expense, for money had been slipping through his fingers during the last four months with incredible speed; and then because this examination marked the end of the drudgery: after that the student had to do with medicine, midwifery, and surgery, the interest of which was more vivid than the anatomy and physiology with which he had been hitherto concerned. Philip looked forward with interest to the rest of the curriculum. Nor did he want to have to confess to Mildred that he had failed: though the examination was difficult and the majority of candidates were ploughed at the first attempt, he knew that she would think less well of him if he did not succeed; she had a peculiarly humiliating way of showing what she thought.
Mildred sent him a postcard to announce her safe arrival, and he snatched half an hour every day to write a long letter to her. He had always a certain shyness in expressing himself by word of mouth, but he found he could tell her, pen in hand, all sorts of things which it would have made him feel ridiculous to say. Profiting by the discovery he poured out to her his whole heart. He had never been able to tell her before how his adoration filled every part of him so that all his actions, all his thoughts, were touched with it. He wrote to her of the future, the happiness that lay before him, and the gratitude which he owed her. He asked himself (he had often asked himself before but had never put it into words) what it was in her that filled him with such extravagant delight; he did not know; he knew only that when she was with him he was happy, and when she was away from him the world was on a sudden cold and gray; he knew only that when he thought of her his heart seemed to grow big in his body so that it was difficult to breathe (as if it pressed against his lungs) and it throbbed, so that the delight of her presence was almost pain; his knees shook, and he felt strangely weak as though, not having eaten, he were tremulous from want of food. He looked forward eagerly to her answers. He did not expect her to write often, for he knew that letter-writing came difficultly to her; and he was quite content with the clumsy little note that arrived in reply to four of his. She spoke of the boarding-house in which she had taken a room, of the weather and the baby, told him she had been for a walk on the front with a lady-friend whom she had met in the boarding-house and who had taken such a fancy to baby, she was going to the theatre on Saturday night, and Brighton was filling up. It touched Philip because it was so matter-of-fact. The crabbed style, the formality of the matter, gave him a queer desire to laugh and to take her in his arms and kiss her.
He went into the examination with happy confidence. There was nothing in either of the papers that gave him trouble. He knew that he had done well, and though the second part of the examination was viva voce and he was more nervous, he managed to answer the questions adequately. He sent a triumphant telegram to Mildred when the result was announced.
When he got back to his rooms Philip found a letter from her, saying that she thought it would be better for her to stay another week in Brighton. She had found a woman who would be glad to take the baby for seven shillings a week, but she wanted to make inquiries about her, and she was herself benefiting so much by the sea-air that she was sure a few days more would do her no end of good. She hated asking Philip for money, but would he send some by return, as she had had to buy herself a new hat, she couldn’t go about with her lady-friend always in the same hat, and her lady-friend was so dressy. Philip had a moment of bitter disappointment. It took away all his pleasure at getting through his examination.
‘If she loved me one quarter as much as I love her she couldn’t bear to stay away a day longer than necessary.’
He put the thought away from him quickly; it was pure selfishness; of course her health was more important than anything else. But he had nothing to do now; he might spend the week with her in Brighton, and they could be together all day. His heart leaped at the thought. It would be amusing to appear before Mildred suddenly with the information that he had taken a room in the boarding-house. He looked out trains. But he paused. He was not certain that she would be pleased to see him; she had made friends in Brighton; he was quiet, and she liked boisterous joviality; he realised that she amused herself more with other people than with him. It would torture him if he felt for an instant that he was in the way. He was afraid to risk it. He dared not even write and suggest that, with nothing to keep him in town, he would like to spend the week where he could see her every day. She knew he had nothing to do; if she wanted him to come she would have asked him to. He dared not risk the anguish he would suffer if he proposed to come and she made excuses to prevent him.
He wrote to her next day, sent her a five-pound note, and at the end of his letter said that if she were very nice and cared to see him for the week-end he would be glad to run down; but she was by no means to alter any plans she had made. He awaited her answer with impatience. In it she said that if she had only known before she could have arranged it, but she had promised to go to a music-hall on the Saturday night; besides, it would make the people at the boarding-house talk if he stayed there. Why did he not come on Sunday morning and spend the day? They could lunch at the Metropole, and she would take him afterwards to see the very superior lady-like person who was going to take the baby.
Sunday. He blessed the day because it was fine. As the train approached Brighton the sun poured through the carriage window. Mildred was waiting for him on the platform.
‘How jolly of you to come and meet me!’ he cried, as he seized her hands.
‘You expected me, didn’t you?’
‘I hoped you would. I say, how well you’re looking.’
‘It’s done me a rare lot of good, but I think I’m wise to stay here as long as I can. And there are a very nice class of people at the boarding-house. I wanted cheering up after seeing nobody all these months. It was dull sometimes.’
She looked very smart in her new hat, a large black straw with a great many inexpensive flowers on it; and round her neck floated a long boa of imitation swansdown. She was still very thin, and she stooped a little when she walked (she had always done that,) but her eyes did not seem so large; and though she never had any colour, her skin had lost the earthy look it had. They walked down to the sea. Philip, remembering he had not walked with her for months, grew suddenly conscious of his limp and walked stiffly in the attempt to conceal it.
‘Are you glad to see me?’ he asked, love dancing madly in his heart.
‘Of course I am. You needn’t ask that.’
‘By the way, Griffiths sends you his love.’
‘What cheek!’
He had talked to her a great deal of Griffiths. He had told her how flirtatious he was and had amused her often with the narration of some adventure which Griffiths under the seal of secrecy had imparted to him. Mildred had listened, with some pretence of disgust sometimes, but generally with curiosity; and Philip, admiringly, had enlarged upon his friend’s good looks and charm.
‘I’m sure you’ll like him just as much as I do. He’s so jolly and amusing, and he’s such an awfully good sort.’
Philip told her how, when they were perfect strangers, Griffiths had nursed him through an illness; and in the telling Griffiths’ self-sacrifice lost nothing.
‘You can’t help liking him,’ said Philip.
‘I don’t like good-looking men,’ said Mildred. ‘They’re too conceited for me.’
‘He wants to know you. I’ve talked to him about you an awful lot.’
‘What have you said?’ asked Mildred.
Philip had no one but Griffiths to talk to of his love for Mildred, and little by little had told him the whole story of his connection with her. He described her to him fifty times. He dwelt amorously on every detail of her appearance, and Griffiths knew exactly how her thin hands were shaped and how white her face was, and he laughed at Philip when he talked of the charm of her pale, thin lips.
‘By Jove, I’m glad I don’t take things so badly as that,’ he said. ‘Life wouldn’t be worth living.’
Philip smiled. Griffiths did not know the delight of being so madly in love that it was like meat and wine and the air one breathed and whatever else was essential to existence. Griffiths knew that Philip had looked after the girl while she was having her baby and was now going away with her.
‘Well, I must say you’ve deserved to get something,’ he remarked. ‘It must have cost you a pretty penny. It’s lucky you can afford it.’
‘I can’t,’ said Philip. ‘But what do I care!’
Since it was early for luncheon, Philip and Mildred sat in one of the shelters on the parade, sunning themselves, and watched the people pass. There were the Brighton shop-boys who walked in twos and threes, swinging their canes, and there were the Brighton shop-girls who tripped along in giggling bunches. They could tell the people who had come down from London for the day; the keen air gave a fillip to their weariness. There were many Jews, stout ladies in tight satin dresses and diamonds, little corpulent men with a gesticulative manner. There were middle-aged gentlemen spending a week-end in one of the large hotels, carefully dressed; and they walked industriously after too substantial a breakfast to give themselves an appetite for too substantial a luncheon: they exchanged the time of day with friends and talked of Dr. Brighton or London-by-the-Sea. Here and there a well-known actor passed, elaborately unconscious of the attention he excited: sometimes he wore patent leather boots, a coat with an astrakhan collar, and carried a silver-knobbed stick; and sometimes, looking as though he had come from a day’s shooting, he strolled in knickerbockers, and ulster of Harris tweed, and a tweed hat on the back of his head. The sun shone on the blue sea, and the blue sea was trim and neat.
After luncheon they went to Hove to see the woman who was to take charge of the baby. She lived in a small house in a back street, but it was clean and tidy. Her name was Mrs. Harding. She was an elderly, stout person, with gray hair and a red, fleshy face. She looked motherly in her cap, and Philip thought she seemed kind.
‘Won’t you find it an awful nuisance to look after a baby?’ he asked her.
She explained that her husband was a curate, a good deal older than herself, who had difficulty in getting permanent work since vicars wanted young men to assist them; he earned a little now and then by doing locums when someone took a holiday or fell ill, and a charitable institution gave them a small pension; but her life was lonely, it would be something to do to look after a child, and the few shillings a week paid for it would help her to keep things going. She promised that it should be well fed.
‘Quite the lady, isn’t she?’ said Mildred, when they went away.
They went back to have tea at the Metropole. Mildred liked the crowd and the band. Philip was tired of talking, and he watched her face as she looked with keen eyes at the dresses of the women who came in. She had a peculiar sharpness for reckoning up what things cost, and now and then she leaned over to him and whispered the result of her meditations.
‘D’you see that aigrette there? That cost every bit of seven guineas.’
Or: ‘Look at that ermine, Philip. That’s rabbit, that is—that’s not ermine.’ She laughed triumphantly. ‘I’d know it a mile off.’
Philip smiled happily. He was glad to see her pleasure, and the ingenuousness of her conversation amused and touched him. The band played sentimental music.
After dinner they walked down to the station, and Philip took her arm. He told her what arrangements he had made for their journey to France. She was to come up to London at the end of the week, but she told him that she could not go away till the Saturday of the week after that. He had already engaged a room in a hotel in Paris. He was looking forward eagerly to taking the tickets.
‘You won’t mind going second-class, will you? We mustn’t be extravagant, and it’ll be all the better if we can do ourselves pretty well when we get there.’
He had talked to her a hundred times of the Quarter. They would wander through its pleasant old streets, and they would sit idly in the charming gardens of the Luxembourg. If the weather was fine perhaps, when they had had enough of Paris, they might go to Fontainebleau. The trees would be just bursting into leaf. The green of the forest in spring was more beautiful than anything he knew; it was like a song, and it was like the happy pain of love. Mildred listened quietly. He turned to her and tried to look deep into her eyes.
‘You do want to come, don’t you?’ he said.
‘Of course I do,’ she smiled.
‘You don’t know how I’m looking forward to it. I don’t know how I shall get through the next days. I’m so afraid something will happen to prevent it. It maddens me sometimes that I can’t tell you how much I love you. And at last, at last...’
He broke off. They reached the station, but they had dawdled on the way, and Philip had barely time to say good-night. He kissed her quickly and ran towards the wicket as fast as he could. She stood where he left her. He was strangely grotesque when he ran.