any other form of human folly. Take my advice and put the whole matter out of your minds—both of you. I prescribe a complete abstinence from emotion. Visit some cheerful seaside resort, Rodney.’
He was struck by William’s appearance, which seemed to him to indicate profound feeling resolutely held in check. No doubt, he reflected, Katharine had been very trying, unconsciously trying, and had driven him to take up a position which was none of his willing. Mr Hilbery certainly did not overrate William’s sufferings. No minutes in his life had hitherto extorted from him such intensity of anguish. He was now facing the consequences of his insanity. He must confess himself entirely and fundamentally other than Mr Hilbery thought him. Everything was against him. Even the Sunday evening and the fire and the tranquil library scene were against him. Mr Hilbery’s appeal to him as a man of the world was terribly against him. He was no longer a man of any world that Mr Hilbery cared to recognize. But some power compelled him, as it had compelled him to come downstairs, to make his stand here and now, alone and un-helped by any one, without prospect of reward. He fumbled with various phrases; and then jerked out:
‘I love Cassandra.’
Mr Hilbery’s face turned a curious dull purple. He looked at his daughter. He nodded his head, as if to convey his silent command to her to leave the room; but either she did not notice it or preferred not to obey.
‘You have the impudence—’ Mr Hilbery began, in a dull, low voice that he himself had never heard before, when there was a scuffling and exclaiming in the hall, and Cassandra, who appeared to be insisting against some dissuasion on the part of another, burst into the room.
‘Uncle Trevor,’ she exclaimed, ‘I insist upon telling you the truth!’ She flung herself between Rodney and her uncle, as if she sought to intercept their blows. As her uncle stood perfectly still, looking very large and imposing, and as nobody spoke, she shrank back a little, and looked first at Katharine and then at Rodney. ‘You must know the truth,’ she said, a little lamely.
‘You have the impudence to tell me this in Katharine’s presence?’ Mr Hilbery continued, speaking with complete disregard of Cassandra’s interruption.
‘I am aware, quite aware—’ Rodney’s words, which were broken in sense, spoken after a pause, and with his eyes upon the ground, nevertheless expressed an astonishing amount of resolution. ‘I am quite aware what you must think of me,’ he brought out, looking Mr Hilbery directly in the eyes for the first time.
‘I could express my views on the subject more fully if we were alone,’ Mr Hilbery returned.
‘But you forget me,’ said Katharine. She moved a little towards Rodney, and her movement seemed to testify mutely to her respect for him, and her alliance with him. ‘I think William has behaved perfectly rightly, and, after all, it is I who am concerned—I and Cassandra.’
Cassandra, too, gave an indescribably slight movement which seemed to draw the three of them into alliance together. Katharine’s tone and glance made Mr Hilbery once more feel completely at a loss, and in addition, painfully and angrily obsolete; but in spite of an awful inner hollowness he was outwardly composed.
‘Cassandra and Rodney have a perfect right to settle their own affairs according to their own wishes; but I see no reason why they should do so either in my room or in my house... I wish to be quite clear on this point, however; you are no longer engaged to Rodney.’
He paused, and his pause seemed to signify that he was extremely thankful for his daughter’s deliverance.
Cassandra turned to Katharine, who drew her breath as if to speak and checked herself; Rodney, too, seemed to await some movement on her part; her father glanced at her as if he half anticipated some further revelation. She remained perfectly silent. In the silence they heard distinctly steps descending the staircase, and Katharine went straight to the door.
‘Wait,’ Mr Hilbery commanded. ‘I wish to speak to you—alone,’ he added.
She paused, holding the door ajar.
‘I’ll come back,’ she said, and as she spoke she opened the door and went out. They could hear her immediately speak to some one outside, though the words were inaudible.
Mr Hilbery was left confronting the guilty couple, who remained standing as if they did not accept their dismissal, and the disappearance of Katharine had brought some change into the situation. So, in his secret heart, Mr Hilbery felt that it had, for he could not explain his daughter’s behaviour to his own satisfaction.
‘Uncle Trevor,’ Cassandra exclaimed impulsively, ‘don’t be angry, please. I couldn’t help it; I do beg you to forgive me.’
Her uncle still refused to acknowledge her identity, and still talked over her head as if she did not exist.
‘I suppose you have communicated with the Otways,’ he said to Rodney grimly.
‘Uncle Trevor, we wanted to tell you,’ Cassandra replied for him. ‘We waited—’ she looked appealingly at Rodney, who shook his head ever so slightly.
‘Yes? What were you waiting for?’ her uncle asked sharply, looking at her at last.
The words died on her lips. It was apparent that she was straining her ears as if to catch some sound outside the room that would come to her help. He received no answer. He listened too.
‘This is a most unpleasant business for all parties,’ he concluded, sinking into his chair again, hunching his shoulders and regarding the flames. He seemed to speak to himself, and Rodney and Cassandra looked at him in silence.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ he said suddenly. He spoke gruffly, but the force of his anger was evidently spent, or some preoccupation had turned his mood to other regions. While Cassandra accepted his invitation, Rodney remained standing.
‘I think Cassandra can explain matters better in my absence,’ he said, and left the room, Mr Hilbery giving his assent by a slight nod of the head.
Meanwhile, in the dining-room next door, Denham and Katharine were once more seated at the mahogany table. They seemed to be continuing a conversation broken off in the middle, as if each remembered the precise point at which they had been interrupted, and was eager to go on as quickly as possible. Katharine, having interposed a short account of the interview with her father, Denham made no comment, but said:
‘Anyhow, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t see each other.’
