once, but after an hour or two of dreamless sleep, she dreamt. She dreamt that she was walking down a long tunnel, which grew so narrow by degrees that she could touch the damp bricks on either side. At length the tunnel opened and became a vault; she found herself trapped in it, bricks meeting her wherever she turned, alone with a little deformed man who squatted on the floor gibbering, with long nails. His face was pitted and like the face of an animal. The wall behind him oozed with damp, which collected into drops and slid down. Still and cold as death she lay, not daring to move, until she broke the agony by tossing herself across the bed, and woke crying 'Oh!' Light showed her the familiar things: her clothes, fallen off the chair; the water jug gleaming white; but the horror did not go at once. She felt herself pursued, so that she got up and actually locked her door. A voice moaned for her; eyes desired her. All night long barbarian men harassed the ship; they came scuffling down the passages, and stopped to snuffle at her door. She could not sleep again.
Chapter VI
'That's the tragedy of life--as I always say!' said Mrs. Dalloway. 'Beginning things and having to end them. Still, I'm not going to let _this_ end, if you're willing.' It was the morning, the sea was calm, and the ship once again was anchored not far from another shore.
She was dressed in her long fur cloak, with the veils wound around her head, and once more the rich boxes stood on top of each other so that the scene of a few days back seemed to be repeated.
'D'you suppose we shall ever meet in London?' said Ridley ironically. 'You'll have forgotten all about me by the time you step out there.'
He pointed to the shore of the little bay, where they could now see the separate trees with moving branches.
'How horrid you are!' she laughed. 'Rachel's coming to see me anyhow--the instant you get back,' she said, pressing Rachel's arm. 'Now--you've no excuse!' With a silver pencil she wrote her name and address on the flyleaf of _Persuasion_, and gave the book to Rachel. Sailors were shouldering the luggage, and people were beginning to congregate. There were Captain Cobbold, Mr. Grice, Willoughby, Helen, and an obscure grateful man in a blue jersey.
'Oh, it's time,' said Clarissa. 'Well, good-bye. I _do_ like you,' she murmured as she kissed Rachel. People in the way made it unnecessary for Richard to shake Rachel by the hand; he managed to look at her very stiffly for a second before he followed his wife down the ship's side.
The boat separating from the vessel made off towards the land, and for some minutes Helen, Ridley, and Rachel leant over the rail, watching. Once Mrs. Dalloway turned and waved; but the boat steadily grew smaller and smaller until it ceased to rise and fall, and nothing could be seen save two resolute backs.
'Well, that's over,' said Ridley after a long silence. 'We shall never see _them_ again,' he added, turning to go to his books. A feeling of emptiness and melancholy came over them; they knew in their hearts that it was over, and that they had parted for ever, and the knowledge filled them with far greater depression than the length of their acquaintance seemed to justify. Even as the boat pulled away they could feel other sights and sounds beginning to take the place of the Dalloways, and the feeling was so unpleasant that they tried to resist it. For so, too, would they be forgotten.
In much the same way as Mrs. Chailey downstairs was sweeping the withered rose-leaves off the dressing-table, so Helen was anxious to make things straight again after the visitors had gone. Rachel's obvious languor and listlessness made her an easy prey, and indeed Helen had devised a kind of trap. That something had happened she now felt pretty certain; moreover, she had come to think that they had been strangers long enough; she wished to know what the girl was like, partly of course because Rachel showed no disposition to be known. So, as they turned from the rail, she said:
'Come and talk to me instead of practising,' and led the way to the sheltered side where the deck-chairs were stretched in the sun. Rachel followed her indifferently. Her mind was absorbed by Richard; by the extreme strangeness of what had happened, and by a thousand feelings of which she had not been conscious before. She made scarcely any attempt to listen to what Helen was saying, as Helen indulged in commonplaces to begin with. While Mrs. Ambrose arranged her embroidery, sucked her silk, and threaded her needle, she lay back gazing at the horizon.
'Did you like those people?' Helen asked her casually.
'Yes,' she replied blankly.
'You talked to him, didn't you?'
She said nothing for a minute.
'He kissed me,' she said without any change of tone.
Helen started, looked at her, but could not make out what she felt.
'M-m-m'yes,' she said, after a pause. 'I thought he was that kind of man.'
'What kind of man?' said Rachel.
'Pompous and sentimental.'
