Ivy Compton-Burnett - The Present and the Past

‘It is a providence that I bethought myself to enter the room,’ went on Ainger, as if he had not heard. ‘I pass over the shock to myself. It is a thing to be disposed of.’

‘Do you think he will do it again?’ said Madge.

‘I do not. I have his word. I bethought myself to exact it.’

‘I should think Mr Clare would keep the tablets away from him,’ said Bennet.

‘He may,’ said Ainger. ‘He may scorn to do so.’

‘When did you see the master?’ said Simon.

‘I have had free access to him all the time.’

‘You did not seem to avail yourself of it?’ said Halliday.

Ainger looked at him for a moment.

‘Halliday, he lay unconscious.’

‘Were you able to say a word to him, when he was in the shadow?’ said Kate.

‘I tried to lighten that passage for him, as I hope someone will one day do it for me.’

‘You talk as if he had died,’ said Halliday.

‘The outcome was veiled in doubt.’

‘He was in the valley,’ said Kate.

‘How does Mr Clare take it?’ said Bennet.

‘As hard as would be expected. We have exchanged a word. But it is a case where feelings lie beyond.’

‘So you have had the position of general supporter,’ said Halliday.

‘And little as accrues to me from it, I ask no other.’

‘What was the master’s complaint against life?’ said Kate. ‘Life itself,’ said Ainger, in a deep tone. ‘What does the mistress say to all of it?’

‘Nothing as far as I am concerned. We are not on the terms. She maintains her distance, as she has a right. The gentlemen decide to ignore it.’

‘Does she feel it rebounds on her?’ said Kate.

‘She has given no sign, nor not to me. It is not her tendency.’

‘How soon will the master be well?’ said Madge.

‘He is able to talk today,’ said Bennet. ‘Mrs Clare and his father are with him in the library. The children are to go later.’

‘He would have something to listen to, if I were in their place,’ said Halliday.

‘Halliday, how your thoughts run on common lines!’ said Ainger, seeming to control himself by an effort.

‘We can imagine the scene,’ said Bennet, her tone recognizing the limits of this method.

‘I could be the first to do so,’ said Ainger, ‘and in consequence am the last who wishes to. I feel the recoil.’

The scene was in progress at the moment, and was outwardly as was said. Cassius lay on the couch, and his father and his wife stood by him. It was the first occasion when talk could take its normal course.

‘Well, we cannot congratulate you on your recovery, my boy. It is the opposite of what you hoped.’

‘I hope you congratulate yourselves on it,’ said Cassius, in a weak voice. Tor myself, I begin to see that life has its claims.’

‘Begin to see it! Then you took your time about arranging to get out of it.’

‘We have to stay where our lot is cast.’

‘That was not your view,’ said his wife.

‘Ah, Flavia, I am hardly in the mood for that tone today. Things were somehow too much for me. I must learn to see them differently.’

‘They will not be different,’ said Mr Clare. ‘It is a long habit to break.’

‘Does an attempt to escape from life give you a hold on it?’ said Flavia. ‘It seems a method that might defeat itself.’

‘Ah, Flavia, you are yourself,’ said Cassius. ‘And you do not remember that the same cannot be said of me.’

‘What was your reason for doing it, Cassius?’

‘I felt that life had little to give me, and that no one wanted what I had to give. It seemed to be time for my place to know me no more.’

‘Did you spare a thought to the rest of us?’ said Mr Clare.

‘I did, my dear old father. I can tell you my actual thought. It was that you and I would soon be united, and that no one else had need of me.’

‘You may have had a grievance,’ said his wife. ‘But not great enough to drive you to your death.’

‘You hardly seem serious, Flavia. Is it not a serious thing?’

‘I am trying to find out what it is.’

‘It is as I have told you. I will not try to estimate it. I may be a person whose hold on life is light.’

‘There is something about it I do not understand. I have no choice but to pursue it.’

‘No choice but to harass and harry me?’ said Cassius, gently.

‘None but to try and discover your reason for what you did.’

‘To be without heart and hope is reason enough.’

‘Not for many of us, and not for you. I am not a stranger to you.’

‘My poor wife, that is just what you are. It is what you have always been. How clearly I see it! It did not make me less alone.’

‘What was in your mind? Or what was on it? I ask you to tell me the truth.’

‘I am not the hero of a detective story, Flavia.’

‘You need not be so longer than you like,’ said Mr Clare.

‘You cannot face the truth,’ said Cassius, looking at his wife. ‘You know it and will not accept it. There is no more to be said.’

‘More will be said and more will be thought. You are right that I do not accept your account as the true one.’

‘Do you accept it, Father? Do you take my word?’

‘I do not expect you to tell us what you are keeping to yourself, my boy. What is the truth about one thing? Are you glad you failed to do your work?’

‘I may get to be glad,’ said Cassius, wearily. ‘This is not the way to make me so. I did not expect these dealings. I was not prepared for an attack. I see it is easier to face death than to face life.’

‘Well, life presents many problems, and death none. But it has not been your way to be overset by them.’

‘You do not know how I have met them.’

‘I know as much about you as you do yourself, my boy.’

‘It is as true of you as it can be of anyone. But we go by ourselves through life. If anyone has saved me from it, it is you.’

‘There will be other people in the next world, if your theories are true,’ said Flavia.

‘They will have cast off their mortal guise, and with them their mortal qualities.’

‘I should not relinquish my resolve to pursue the truth about this.’

‘I suppose you cannot imagine hopelessness?’

‘I think I can, though I have not experienced it. But have you done either, Cassius?’

‘So you know me no better than that, after nine years?’

‘After that time I know you as well as that.’

‘After fifty-two years I do the same,’ said Mr Clare.

‘We are unfamiliar with this new guise,’ said Flavia.

‘Perhaps the other was a guise,’ said Cassius. ‘Perhaps you are seeing my real self for the first time.’

‘No, no,’ said his father, ‘the other would have become real by now. And what reason had you to hide yourself? You saw none.’

‘Well, this is leading us nowhere.’

‘That is the fault we find with it,’ said Flavia. ‘But it will lead us somewhere in the end.’

‘I cannot help you any more.’

‘It may be true, my boy,’ said Mr Clare. ‘You are not able to bring yourself to it. And you would have a right to keep your own counsel, if your actions affected no one else.’

‘There is no mystery,’ said Cassius.

‘That is the word,’ said his father.

‘Well, have it as you will. There is some dark secret.’

‘Those words will do as well.’

‘The secret may not be so dark,’ said Flavia. ‘Things become so when kept in darkness.’

Cassius compared his watch with the clock on the chimney-piece and glanced at the door. Sounds were heard outside.

‘Did you arrange for the children to come?’ said his wife.

‘Yes,’ said Cassius, looking again at the watch, as if to check their exactitude.