'He will know better another time,' she thought. Suddenly she heard a whistling, squeaking sound--it was Mr. Stone whispering the third page of his manuscript:
"'---animated by some admirable sentiments, but whose doctrines--riddled by the fact that life is but the change of form to form--were too constricted for the evils they designed to remedy; this little sect, who had as yet to learn the meaning of universal love, were making the most strenuous efforts, in advance of the community at large, to understand themselves. The necessary, movement which they voiced--reaction against the high-tide of the fratricidal system then prevailing--was young, and had the freshness and honesty of youth....'"Without a word Cecilia turned round and hurried to the door. She saw her father drop the sheet of paper; she saw his face, all pink and silver, stooping after it; and remorse visited her anger.
In the corridor outside she was arrested by a noise. The uncertain light of London halls fell there; on close inspection the sufferer was seen to be Miranda, who, unable to decide whether she wanted to be in the garden or the house, was seated beneath the hatrack snuffling to herself. On seeing Cecilia she came out.
"What do you want, you little beast?"
Peering at her over the tops of her eyes, Miranda vaguely lifted a white foot. 'Why ask me that?' she seemed to say. 'How am I to know? Are we not all like this?'
Her conduct, coming at that moment, over-tried Cecilia's nerves. She threw open Hilary's study-door, saying sharply: "Go in and find your master!"Miranda did not move, but Hilary came out instead. He had been correcting proofs to catch the post, and wore the look of a man abstracted, faintly contemptuous of other forms of life.
Cecilia, once more saved from the necessity of approaching her sister, the mistress of the house, so fugitive, haunting, and unseen, yet so much the centre of this situation, said:
"Can I speak to you a minute, Hilary?"
They went into his study, and Miranda came creeping in behind.
To Cecilia her brother-in-law always seemed an amiable and more or less pathetic figure. In his literary preoccupations he allowed people to impose on him. He looked unsubstantial beside the bust of Socrates, which moved Cecilia strangely--it was so very massive and so very ugly! She decided not to beat about the bush.
"I've been hearing some odd things from Mrs. Hughs about that little model, Hilary."Hilary's smile faded from his eyes, but remained clinging to his lips.
"Indeed!"
Cecilia went on nervously: "Mrs. Hughs says it's because of her that Hughs behaves so badly. I don't want to say anything against the girl, but she seems--she seems to have---""Yes?" said Hilary.
"To have cast a spell on Hughs, as the woman puts it.""On Hughs!" repeated Hilary.
Cecilia found her eyes resting on the bust of Socrates, and hastily proceeded:
"She says he follows her about, and comes down here to lie in wait for her. It's a most strange business altogether. You went to see them, didn't you?"Hilary nodded.
"I've been speaking to Father," Cecilia murmured; "but he's hopeless-I, couldn't get him to pay the least attention."Hilary seemed thinking deeply.
"I wanted him," she went on, "to get some other girl instead to come and copy for him.""Why?"
Under the seeming impossibility of ever getting any farther, without saying what she had come to say, Cecilia blurted out:
"Mrs. Hughs says that Hughs has threatened you."Hilary's face became ironical.
"Really!" he said. "That's good of him! What for?"The frightful indelicacy of her situation at this moment, the feeling of unfairness that she should be placed in it, almost overwhelmed Cecilia. "Goodness knows I don't want to meddle. I never meddle in anything-it's horrible!"Hilary took her hand.
"My dear Cis," he said, "of course! But we'd better have this out!"Grateful for the pressure of his hand, she gave it a convulsive squeeze.
"It's so sordid, Hilary!"
"Sordid! H'm! Let's get it over, then."
Cecilia had grown crimson. "Do you want me to tell you everything?""Certainly."
"Well, Hughs evidently thinks you're interested in the girl. You can't keep anything from servants and people who work about your house; they always think the worst of everything--and, of course, they know that you and B. don't--aren't---"Hilary nodded.
"Mrs. Hughs actually said the man meant to go to B.!"Again the vision of her sister seemed to float into the room, and she went on desperately: "And, Hilary, I can see Mrs. Hughs really thinks you are interested. Of course, she wants to, for if you were, it would mean that a man like her husband could have no chance."Astonished at this flash of cynical inspiration, and ashamed of such plain speaking, she checked herself. Hilary had turned away.
Cecilia touched his arm. "Hilary, dear," she said, "isn't there any chance of you and B---"Hilary's lips twitched. "I should say not."
Cecilia looked sadly at the floor. Not since Stephen was bad with pleurisy had she felt so worried. The sight of Hilary's face brought back her doubts with all their force. It might, of course, be only anger at the man's impudence, but it might be--she hardly liked to frame her thought--a more personal feeling.
"Don't you think," she said, "that, anyway, she had better not come here again?"Hilary paced the room.
"It's her only safe and certain piece of work; it keeps her independent. It's much more satisfactory than this sitting. I can't have any hand in taking it away from her."Cecilia had never seen him moved like this. Was it possible that he was not incorrigibly gentle, but had in him some of that animality which she, in a sense, admired? This uncertainty terribly increased the difficulties of the situation.
