A Room with a View - E. M. Forster [90]
“Yes.”
“I met them on the hill. Your brother told me.”
“Oh he did?” She sounded annoyed. Mr. Beebe felt hurt, for he had thought that she would like him to be told.
“I needn’t say that it will go no further.”
“Mother, Charlotte, Cecil, Freddy, you,” said Lucy, playing a note for each person who knew, and then playing a sixth note.
“If you’ll let me say so, I am very glad, and I am certain that you have done the right thing.”
“So I hoped other people would think, but they don’t seem to.”
“I could see that Miss Bartlett thought it unwise.”
“So does mother. Mother minds dreadfully.”
“I am very sorry for that,” said Mr. Beebe with feeling.
Mrs. Honeychurch, who hated all changes, did mind, but not nearly as much as her daughter pretended, and only for the minute. It was really a ruse of Lucy’s to justify her despondency—a ruse of which she was not herself conscious, for she was marching in the armies of darkness.
“And Freddy minds.”
“Still, Freddy never hit it off with Vyse much, did he? I gathered that he disliked the engagement, and felt it might separate him from you.”
“Boys are so odd.”
Minnie could be heard arguing with Miss Bartlett through the floor. Tea at the Beehive apparently involved a complete change of apparel. Mr. Beebe saw that Lucy—very properly-did not wish to discuss her action, so after a sincere expression of sympathy, he said, “I have had an absurd letter from Miss Alan. That was really what brought me over. I thought it might amuse you all.”
“How delightful!” said Lucy, in a dull voice.
For the sake of something to do, he began to read her the letter. After a few words her eyes grew alert, and soon she interrupted him with—“Going abroad? When do they start?”
“Next week, I gather.”
“Did Freddy say whether he was driving straight back?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Because I do hope he won’t go gossiping.”
So she did want to talk about her broken engagement. Always complaisant, he put the letter away. But she at once exclaimed in a high voice, “Oh, do tell me more about the Miss Alans! How perfectly splendid of them to go abroad!”
“I want them to start from Venice, and go in a cargo steamer down the Illyrian coast!”
She laughed heartily. “Oh, delightful! I wish they’d take me.”
“Has Italy filled you with the fever of travel? Perhaps George Emerson is right. He says that ‘Italy is only an euphuism for Fate.’ ”
“Oh, not Italy, but Constantinople. I have always longed to go to Constantinople. Constantinople is practically Asia, isn’t it?”
Mr. Beebe reminded her that Constantinople was still unlikely, and that the Miss Alans only aimed at Athens, “with Delphi, perhaps, if the roads are safe.” But this made no difference to her enthusiasm. She had always longed to go to Greece even more, it seemed. He saw, to his surprise, that she was apparently serious.
“I didn’t realize that you and the Miss Alans were still such friends, after Cissie Villa.”
“Oh, that’s nothing; I assure you Cissie Villa’s nothing to me; I would give anything to go with them.”
“Would your mother spare you again so soon? You have scarcely been home three months.”
“She must spare me!” cried Lucy, in growing excitement. “I simply must go away. I have to.” She ran her fingers hysterically through her hair. “Don’t you see that I have to go away? I didn’t realize at the time—and of course I want to see Constantinople so particularly.”
“You mean that since you have broken off your engagement you feel—”
“Yes, yes. I knew you’d understand.”
Mr. Beebe did not quite understand. Why could not Miss Honeychurch repose in the bosom of her family? Cecil had evidently taken up the dignified line, and was not going to annoy her. Then it struck him that her family itself might be annoying. He hinted this to her, and she accepted the hint eagerly.
“Yes, of course; to go to Constantinople until they are used to the idea and everything has calmed down.”
“I am afraid it has been a bothersome business,” he said gently.
“No, not at all. Cecil was very kind indeed; only—I had better tell you the whole truth, since you have heard