Iris Murdoch - The Bell

With the handkerchief there fluttered out onto the grass the plain envelope containing the note to Toby. Dora saw it, was paralysed with horror, but could not stop laughing. She let go of her handkerchief which was immediately carried away by the wind. Paul, looking grimly ahead and still twisting her wrist, had not seen the envelope. With her free hand Dora spread out her skirt and petticoat to cover it. Then questing beneath them she tried to pick the envelope up to convey it back to her pocket. Her hand, involved in the fluttering folds of her petticoat, encountered another hand. It was Noel’s. Noel’s hand reached the envelope first and quietly removed it. For a moment, his face serenely lifted towards the Bishop, he held it at his side. Then he transferred it to his pocket.

Paul still stared ahead, oblivious. The rest of the community seemed to have their eyes closed. The Bishop with unfaltering voice looked down benignly, observing the byplay with the letter. He had seen odder things. Dora rearranged her skirt and clapped her hand over her mouth. It began to rain.

TOBY was in extremity. His thoughts and feelings swung to and fro in an unaccountable way which ten days ago he would not have been able to imagine. He deeply regretted having involved himself in Dora’s crazy plan. It seemed to him now deceitful, silly, in thoroughly bad taste, and likely to end in some grotesque disaster. He would have liked to back out of it but did not know how. He was not unaffected too, by Paul’s evident anger and by the faintly scandalized air with which he felt himself regarded by the other members of the community. He had not thought, when he sought in his need such particular help from Dora, that anyone else would be harmed or even concerned; he began now to see that his actions, in this quarter, had implications which he did not wish to sustain. On the other hand he felt excessively upset at the thought of doing anything which might destroy the sweet tenuous ambiguous bond which linked him now to Dora; and he hated the idea of letting her down. He longed to see her, and yet, because of the confusion of his thoughts, avoided her.

Meanwhile his feelings about Michael were swinging back the other way. The insidious fear about his own condition which had inspired Toby to think of Dora had not vanished but it had certainly faded. He was even a little reassured by what had passed between him and Dora. Indeed a sheer elation at having so successfully kissed her remained consolingly incapsulated in his distress. This left his mind more free to consider Michael once again as an individual and to feel their relationship for all its peculiarities as something real, interesting, even valuable. He began to be sorry for Michael and to speculate about Michael’s state of mind. He began also to worry about Michael’s opinion of him, and about how far the Dora business, which was turning out to be so much more extensive in various ways than he had expected, would damage him in Michael’s eyes. His situation suddenly seemed intolerable.

Toby was a naturally truthful boy and had been brought up to believe that whatever mess one found oneself in one could always best get out of it by telling the truth. But truth-telling in this case, would be likely to prove difficult. What truth should he tell and to whom? He started to consider the possibility of going to Michael and telling him all about the plan for the old bell. The carrying out of the first half of the plan had been exciting; the carrying out of the second half seemed too onerous to bear. Toby simply could not see himself helping Dora to make the substitution of the bells; and this being so he rather cravenly felt that he was absolved from attempting it. Yet without Dora’s sanction to abandon the plan, to betray her, who had so simply and completely relied upon him, was unthinkable too. Nor was there anyone in whom he could confide without by doing so effecting the betrayal. He thought of confiding in Nick; but he didn’t trust Nick, and there was no one else. Patently, he told himself, what he ought to do was to go to Dora and tell her that he was giving up. This would not clear him of deceit, but it would at least be simple and more fair to Dora. But although he decided to do this several times during the day he did not go. Instead he went to see Michael.

Once he had set his feet on the way to Michael’s room he felt as if he had entered a field of magnetic force. He could hardly stop himself from running. He reached the door, still uncertain what he was going to say. He knocked, and found Michael alone. Michael rose at once with a murmur of “Oh, Toby!” which left little doubt of his pleasure at seeing the boy. But preoccupied perhaps by his own needs and problems he did not ask why he had come; nor did Toby feel any urge for immediate discussion since simply being in Michael’s presence was so obviously an end in itself. He found himself sighing and smiling with relief. Michael sat down and looked at him solemnly for some time, as if he were memorizing his face. Then Toby, moved by some force which seemed to regulate his movements, sat down at Michael’s feet and took hold of his hand. At that moment Dora came bursting in.

After this interruption Toby made himself scarce in the garden until it was time for the service, which he attended in a state of misery, indecision, and shock. When it was over he made off again, avoiding the social gathering in the refectory, and ran into the woods. A fine rain was falling and soon soaked him through but he paid no attention. He started off to visit the old bell, but changed his mind; he wished heartily that he had never discovered the rébarbative thing at all. He wandered about for nearly an hour, staring intermittently at the lake whose grey surface was pitted by the rain. Then he began to make his way back to the Lodge. He thought he would change his clothes and then go and look for Dora and tell her he could not go through with the plan.

Dripping wet and wretched he trailed into the living-room of the Lodge. It was already getting dark outside, and the unlighted room was obscure and bleak. Toby stumbled in, kicking the newspapers aside. He fell over the recumbent Murphy and was half-way to the other door when he saw Nick sitting there in his usual position behind the table. He mumbled a greeting and was opening the door when Nick said in a clear voice, “Wait a moment, Toby, I want to talk to you.”

Toby stopped and faced Nick across the table, startled by the urgency of his tone. He saw that Nick’s bottle of whisky was bearing him company. A smell of drink pervaded the room, mingling with the chilly damp air from outside. The stove was out.

“I want a long and serious talk with you, Toby,”said Nick. He sounded drunk but determined.

“I haven’t time now,” said Toby.

“You can spare me half an hour, dear boy. And in fact /ou will, whether you like it or not.” Nick got up from behind the table.

“Sorry, Nick,” said Toby. “I’ve got to see somebody.” He realized that it might take a long time to talk Nick down, and he began prudently to back away towards the outer door. He would leave changing his clothes till later.

With a speed which took Toby by surprise Nick moved across the room and placed himself in front of the door. At the same moment he switched on the electric light. He surveyed Toby with his wide fixed smile. They faced each other.

Toby frowned, dazzled by the unshaded bulb. He said, Took here, Nick, don’t be silly. I’ve got to go up to the house now. We can talk later.”

“Later will be too late my poor deluded child,” said Nick. “You remember that I told you I would give you a sermon, the one the others didn’t want to hear? Well, now is the time I am filled with the spirit. Take your pew!”