Of Human Bondage Read Free

mirror. In a
little tray were hairpins. There was a photograph of himself on the
chimney-piece and one of his father. He had often been in the room
when his mother was not in it, but now it seemed different. There
was something curious in the look of the chairs. The bed was made
as though someone were going to sleep in it that night, and in a
case on the pillow was a night-dress.
      Philip opened a large cupboard filled with dresses
and, stepping in, took as many of them as he could in his arms and
buried his face in them. They smelt of the scent his mother used.
Then he pulled open the drawers, filled with his mother's things,
and looked at them: there were lavender bags among the linen, and
their scent was fresh and pleasant. The strangeness of the room
left it, and it seemed to him that his mother had just gone out for
a walk. She would be in presently and would come upstairs to have
nursery tea with him. And he seemed to feel her kiss on his
lips.
      It was not true that he would never see her again.
It was not true simply because it was impossible. He climbed up on
the bed and put his head on the pillow. He lay there quite
still.

IV
      Philip parted from Emma with tears, but the journey
to Blackstable amused him, and, when they arrived, he was resigned
and cheerful. Blackstable was sixty miles from London. Giving their
luggage to a porter, Mr. Carey set out to walk with Philip to the
vicarage; it took them little more than five minutes, and, when
they reached it, Philip suddenly remembered the gate. It was red
and five-barred: it swung both ways on easy hinges; and it was
possible, though forbidden, to swing backwards and forwards on it.
They walked through the garden to the front-door. This was only
used by visitors and on Sundays, and on special occasions, as when
the Vicar went up to London or came back. The traffic of the house
took place through a side-door, and there was a back door as well
for the gardener and for beggars and tramps. It was a fairly large
house of yellow brick, with a red roof, built about five and twenty
years before in an ecclesiastical style. The front-door was like a
church porch, and the drawing-room windows were gothic.
      Mrs. Carey, knowing by what train they were coming,
waited in the drawing-room and listened for the click of the gate.
When she heard it she went to the door.
      "There's Aunt Louisa," said Mr. Carey, when he saw
her. "Run and give her a kiss."
      Philip started to run, awkwardly, trailing his
club-foot, and then stopped. Mrs. Carey was a little, shrivelled
woman of the same age as her husband, with a face extraordinarily
filled with deep wrinkles, and pale blue eyes. Her gray hair was
arranged in ringlets according to the fashion of her youth. She
wore a black dress, and her only ornament was a gold chain, from
which hung a cross. She had a shy manner and a gentle voice.
      "Did you walk, William?" she said, almost
reproachfully, as she kissed her husband.
      "I didn't think of it," he answered, with a glance
at his nephew.
      "It didn't hurt you to walk, Philip, did it?" she
asked the child.
      "No. I always walk."
      He was a little surprised at their conversation.
Aunt Louisa told him to come in, and they entered the hall. It was
paved with red and yellow tiles, on which alternately were a Greek
Cross and the Lamb of God. An imposing staircase led out of the
hall. It was of polished pine, with a peculiar smell, and had been
put in because fortunately, when the church was reseated, enough
wood remained over. The balusters were decorated with emblems of
the Four Evangelists.
      "I've had the stove lighted as I thought you'd be
cold after your journey," said Mrs. Carey.
      It was a large black stove that stood in the hall
and was only lighted if the weather was very bad and the Vicar had
a cold. It was not lighted if Mrs. Carey had a cold. Coal was
expensive. Besides, Mary Ann, the maid, didn't like fires all over
the place. If they wanted all