The Mighty and Their Fall Read online

  “We must not go on. It will end nowhere. And the other idea is more plausible.”

  “Do you hope that Father will be in time with his answer?”

  “What can I do, as things are? If he hopes it, so must I. And he has been living apart from us. We can let ourselves see it now. A new life may be no worse than an imitation of the old one.”

  “We can’t know what it will be. There are worse things than a copy.”

  “There are honester things. Unless the copy is a faithful one.”

  There was a knock at the door, and Hugo entered with an openly shamefaced air.

  “I am in great discomfiture. I know the guilt is mine.”

  “Yours?” said Egbert. “And we were suspecting Grandma! Why did your heart fail you?”

  “We don’t blame Grandma,” said Lavinia. “She will not hear a word from us. You need not fear.”

  “Oh! Of course I should like to be shielding a woman and admiring myself. But I did not mean the letter. I meant I ought to have responded to Teresa. Thinking of myself has never done so much harm. It generally does so much less than I expect.”

  “Did she propose to you?” said Lavinia.

  “No, she only thought I should propose to her. I think it is a thing she is used to. And then she began to be afraid of it. I will not misrepresent her. So you were ready to see me as the culprit of the letter. And I do see that perhaps I ought to have been.”

  “It had to be someone,” said Egbert. “That was the truth before us. We could not shut our eyes to it, and we faced it with courage. And with many of our other human qualities. We told you where our choice fell. On a person you must not judge.”

  “No, a man speaks no evil of his mother. And it must have gone against the grain. She has hidden nothing in her life. Not even her thought.”

  “Well, not that,” said Lavinia, smiling. “And not her action to the end. Not long enough for it to do its work. Though she may have thought she had. Well, whatever happens, you will stay with us?”

  “Yes, what is the reason for my going? The matter is nothing to Teresa, of course. And I can’t afford to be anywhere else. And I persuade myself that my place is at your side.”

  “I shall welcome your presence in many situations.”

  “There should not be such things. They ought to be forbidden.”

  “I shall not try to make them. You need not fear.”

  “I did fear a little. I do judge people by myself. And they are often very like me.”

  “Lavinia is like none of us,” said Egbert. “She is on her own plane.”

  “Well, Father is too much to me, for me to spoil his happiness.”

  “You have no ignoble instincts,” said Hugo. “So you don’t have to give your life to suppressing them. It can be a great burden. Perhaps it is why I have done nothing else.”

  “I have too many. But to yield would mean more loss than gain.”

  “Even if you gained your father?”

  “I should have lost myself,” said Lavinia.

  “I have never thought about losing myself. I will think now. I do feel I am worth keeping.”

  “We should all feel it. It is what makes us ourselves. And the new life has to come. It is some time since it actually came.”

  “You are the person who ought to have hidden the letter.”

  “So I am,” said Lavinia, laughing. “I can’t help feeling for the person who did it. I have never felt so lenient towards what we must call a base action.”

  “Must we, if it was done by your grandmother?”

  “If we call it anything. But we need not talk of it, and will not. It must be forgotten.”

  “It was a great change to come at her age,” said Egbert. “If she could not face it, we should hardly blame her. Again at her age.”

  “I suppose we must blame her, if she knew what she was doing,” said Lavinia, gravely. “But we will feel she did not.”

  “What interest there is in the future!” said Hugo. “It takes so little to enthral me.”

  “A certain amount, if this is an example,” said Egbert.

  “And why is it called short? Even a day has no end. Think of the one we are living.”

  “Oh, let us forget it, and everything about it,” said Lavinia. “And never remember it again. It has been a disordered day.”

  CHAPTER VI

  “Is she really married to Father this time?” said Leah.

  “Now what am I to say?” said Miss Starkie. “Yes, of course she is.”

  “So she said she,” said Hengist.

  “So she will always be here now,” said Agnes.

  “Well, I really don’t know what word you are to use,” said Miss Starkie.

  “What is the good of words that mustn’t be used?” said Hengist. “She isn’t different from any other.”

  “It seems it must be,” said Miss Starkie. “I don’t know what we should have done without it.”

  “You are not often on our side,” said Leah.

  “I am always on it. You must be told what you need to know.”

  “You don’t know this yourself.”

  “I don’t pretend to,” said Miss Starkie. “Now be ready to welcome your father and—Mrs. Middleton, when they come.”

  “Mrs. Middleton is Grandma,” said Leah.

  “Your stepmother. She takes your father’s name now.”

  “Why doesn’t he take hers?”

  “It is not the custom. The man is the head of the family.”

  “He isn’t really,” said Hengist. “I suppose, if she liked, we should all be called Chilton.”

  “She is Mrs. Middleton,” said Miss Starkie, and said no more.

  “I think she is really best,” said Leah.

  “Well, you prove your opinion. Now be ready to greet—the travellers when they come. Seem to be glad to see them. Now here is the moment.”

  “Well, we are with you again,” said Ninian. “Ready to resume our place and our powers. I hope you are resolved to support us.”

  “It isn’t resuming for her,” said Hengist. “He talks in the plural like a royal person.”

  “Well, he has the power,” said Leah.

  “I am not going to say anything,” said Miss Starkie.

  “Are you what is called at the end of your tether?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “So you did say something.”

  Miss Starkie did not add to it, and Ninian continued.

  “Our three generations are complete. I am no longer a solitary figure. The gap in our ranks is filled.”

  “They are not complete,” said Leah. “Grandma hasn’t a husband. And she and Father aren’t a real husband and wife.”

  “Don’t be foolish; of course they are,” said Miss Starkie.

  “What did she say?” said Teresa, smiling at Leah.

  “Nothing worth repeating, Mrs. Middleton. There is much to be said for the old ideas about children. I am often tempted to act on them.”

  “Yield to the temptation,” said Ninian. “It is not one to be resisted.”

  “She will want to see her room,” said Agnes. “Shall I take her to it?”

  “Now there is a thing to be said,” said Ninian. “The name is to be Teresa for the two elder ones, and Mamma for the rest. So now there will be no question.”

  “So you have simply to remember,” said Miss Starkie. “And nothing more need be said.”

  “It will be easier for you, Miss Starkie,” said Ninian.

  “It will open up a new era, Mr. Middleton. I shall not dare to look back on the last one.”

  “What is an era?” said Leah.

  “A historical period. I used the word ironically. Now we will talk of something else.”

  “I suppose Mamma is a sort of feeble word for Mother?” said Leah, obeying the injunction.

  “They mean almost the same. Mamma is perhaps a lighter word. Now there is an end of the matter.”

  “We shan’t have so much to talk about,�
�� said Hengist.

  “You will make the best of what there is.”

  “How I wish I was not here!” said Hugo to Lavinia. “It is humbling to be forced to stay. And they say poverty is no disgrace. I wonder what put the word into their heads.”

  “It is best to get the meeting over. Have you spoken to Teresa?”

  “I will speak to her at once. I will try to be a man. I will anyhow be an imitation.”

  Hugo went up to Teresa.

  “I suppose you hardly recognise me. I am so different from what you thought. And I forgot to ask if I could be your brother. But it did not matter, as I was to become so anyhow. This will do for our first word. I could not leave it to you.”

  “Not if I could not recognise you. Now I shall be able to.”

  “You will see me as I am. I am always seen in that way. I have had to get used to it. I am grateful to you for trying to see me differently. I have had something in my life. It is more than I expected.”

  “We do usually have less. But many of us expect too much. We hardly like to remember what it was.”

  “What is the best thing to have?” said Egbert. “We are told it is not wealth and ease. I suppose for fear we should think it was. It is sad how we understand it.”

  “Anyone who does not, is without understanding,” said Selina. “I don’t mean that I should choose it.”

  “You would not dare to mean it,” said Hugo. “I almost believe I should. The best thing about wealth is that it is never shared.”

  “It ought to be,” said Lavinia.

  “That almost seems to make it better.”

  “The good thing about it is the power to share it.”

  “But a better one is that the power is not used.”

  “I suppose it is not. It is a hard thing to explain.”

  “I hardly think it is,” said Ninian. “Wealth is the thing that can be shared. We cannot share looks or gifts or charm. I daresay we should not, if we could. If we had them, I mean.”

  “Oh, of course you mean that, Father,” said Lavinia, laughing.

  “None of us likes to be copied,” said Egbert. “And I suppose that is trying to share.”

  “Trying to steal,” said his grandmother.

  “I have always known they were the same,” said Hugo.

  “We have not settled on the best thing in life,” said Lavinia.

  “Human friendship?” said Egbert.

  “But it is sometimes shared,” said Hugo.

  “And it is uncertain,” said Teresa. “We want something we cannot lose.”

  “A clear conscience?” said Ninian.

  “We can surely lose that,” said Lavinia, continuing at once. “Not that many of us do in any real sense.”

  “I should have thought we all did,” said Hugo. “Perhaps that shows it is the best. We should naturally lose that.”

  “Real achievement?” said Selina.

  “But we don’t know a case of it,” said Lavinia. “So we can’t ask if it is the best. And anyhow no one would dare to answer.”

  “It depends what kind of achievement you mean,” said Teresa.

  “Not service to humanity,” said Hugo. “No one could feel that the best.”

  “Some people might,” said Lavinia. “Those who could give it.”

  “People with religion,” said Egbert. “Who feel they will be rewarded in the end.”

  “That might be a good thing,” said Hugo. “But from what is said of it, I hardly think the best.”

  “Real achievement would be independent of reward,” said Ninian. “The reward would be in itself.”

  “I knew there was some drawback,” said Hugo. “Fancy having to provide the reward as well as earn it!”

  “It is said that effort is its own reward,” said Lavinia. “Perhaps that is why it often has no other.”

  “What should we really choose?” said Ninian. “We have not said.”

  “An affection that would last,” said Teresa; “in ourselves as well as in someone else; that would be a basis for our lives.”

  “That would be my choice,” said Lavinia.

  “Well, may you both have it,” said Selina, in benevolence. “Try to give it to each other.”

  “It could hardly be done under instruction.” said Ninian.

  “Affection often lasts,” said Hugo. “We don’t often have the interest of seeing people lose it. It would always last in me, if they asked it of me. But they might almost think I had none to give.”

  “Perhaps they might quite think so,” said Teresa, in a low tone, with a smile.

  “So you can say such a thing to me. I could not to you. I somehow feel I am returning good for evil.”

  “Does anyone ever do that?” said Selina.

  “Not you, Grandma, if you can’t believe in it,” said Lavinia. “And it is hard to see why anyone should. It may be a sign of weakness.”

  “It must be,” said Egbert. “No one could want to do it.”

  “People might do it out of their strength,” said Teresa.

  “I will not imagine them,” said Hugo. “I should not dare.”

  “We might do it for our credit or self-esteem,” said Ninian. “Perhaps that should hardly count.”

  “We should feel the last,” said Egbert. “I don’t see how it could be avoided.”

  “What other reasons are there?” said Hugo. “I cannot think of any.”

  “It is not as plain as you all think,” said Lavinia.

  “Why, have you personal knowledge or experience?” said Ninian.

  “You should not ask dreadful questions,” said Hugo. “You deserve to have a dreadful answer.”

  “He will not have one,” said Lavinia. “It would not do for us to meet our deserts.”

  “So he has had one,” said Selina, almost to herself.

  “Are we talking of actual evil?” said Ninian, as if he had not heard. “Or of natural effort for our own welfare?”

  “Oh, that is almost too evil to speak about,” said Hugo. “Some subjects should be forbidden.”

  “Well, are we to talk about ourselves and each other? Is that a better or safer thing? People might take the chance to speak the truth.”

  “Only terrible people. But of course that is nearly everyone.”

  “Is our choice of subjects so small?” said Egbert.

  “Well, it is for me,” said Hugo. “I only like the personal ones. And no one really seems to introduce any others.”

  “Then would you like to speak the truth about people?”

  “Yes, if I were not afraid to. But I think it is a wholesome fear.”

  “Why should the truth be against them?” said Lavinia.

  “We meant the truth that is spoken about them. That deals with what they think is hidden. And it ought to be hidden no doubt. They are the ones to judge.”

  “Is it often spoken?” said Teresa. “I suppose when it is forced out of people.”

  “It is terrible how little force is needed. Our self-knowledge takes us such a long way.”’

  “I don’t think I have learned much from mine,” said Lavinia.

  “It can teach us all a good deal,” said her father.

  “It might lead us to judge other people by ourselves. And that might make us too gullible.”

  “That suggests that we are better than they are. And of some of us it may be true.”

  “It is,” said Teresa, looking at Lavinia. “And it is not their fault if they know it.”

  “My sister understands about the hidden things,” said Egbert, “though she herself may not have them.”

  “They would not remain hidden,” said Lavinia, laughing. “In my case they would emerge.”

  “They would not in mine,” said Hugo. “They are far too securely hidden. I hardly dare to recognise them myself. I might betray them.”

  “I know all about mine. And I fear so do you all. I have not the gift of hiding them.”

  “Fancy not having to cultivate it! I th
ought that became our second nature. I did not know we ever showed our first one.”

  “You are patient with my family,” said Ninian to his wife. “They love words for their own sake.”

  “So do I, when they come from them. But they must not expect them from me. I cannot emulate them.”

  “You will not try. To emulate may be to copy. That is not for you.”

  “No, people have to take me as I am.”

  “As you really are?” said Hugo. “I have only met your case and Lavinia’s. There should be a bond between you.”

  “Perhaps there will be,” said Lavinia.

  “Not too strong,” said Ninian, looking at her. “You both belong to me. That is where the bond lies.”

  “Fancy daring to ask so much for yourself!” said Hugo.

  “The more we ask, the more we have. And it is fair enough: asking is not always easy.”

  “And it is said to be hard to accept,” said Lavinia. “So no wonder we have so little.”

  “‘Nothing venture, nothing have’ is a heartless saying,” said Egbert. “Fancy recognising that we may have nothing.”

  “And we are to value things more when they don’t come easily. There is no limit to the heartlessness.”

  “When we really feel that everything is our due,” said Ninian.

  “That ought to fill you with humility,” said Hugo. “As artists are filled with it, when they are praised.”

  “Don’t they take praise as their due?” said Lavinia. “When they are not praised, they hardly seem filled with humility.”

  “I suppose it means they are filled with pride,” said Teresa.

  “Who said she could not use words like any one else?” said Ninian.

  “I hope she will not go on doing it,” said Hugo. “Another person to put me into the shade!”

  “Don’t you like the shade?” said Teresa.

  “Well, no one is filled with humility to overflowing.”

  “Now I am going to claim an hour with my wife alone,” said Ninian. “That is due to us on our first day.”

  “As many hours as you like on every day, Father,” said Lavinia. “That is why we did not offer them on the first.”

  “Will you come and share the hour with us?” said Teresa.

  “No,” said Ninian, at once. “The hour is yours and mine. We will share others later.”

  “What irony of fate!” said Egbert, looking after them. “The usurper of a place invites her predecessor to share it. Would that lead to less trouble or more?”