The Bell - Iris Murdoch [58]
They reached the ferry, and began to crowd into the boat which, much weighed down, would just accommodate them all. Helped by Paul, Dora settled herself in the bows with a little scream, and as she arranged her skirt admitted to the general amazement that she could not swim. Lazily Michael propelled the heavy boat very slowly through the water, which was warm and seemingly oily with summer idleness. Dora trailed her hand. As they neared the other side Toby exclaimed and pointed. Something was to be seen swimming in the water near the boat. It turned out to be Murphy. Everyone looked, tilting the vessel dangerously to one side. There was something strangely exciting in the spectacle of the dog, his dry furry face kept well above the surface in the rather anxious attitude of a swimming animal, his eyes bright and attentive, his paws beating as it seemed wildly in the water.
'Is he all right, do you think?' asked Dora, worried.
'Oh, he's all right,' said Toby with authority. He seemed, Michael noticed, to regard himself by now as part owner of Murphy and able to answer for his peculiarities and well-being. 'He often swims in the lake, he likes it. Hey, Murphy! Good boy!'
The dog gave them a quick sidelong glance and returned to his paddling. He reached the land before them, shook himself vigorously, and ran away in the direction of the Lodge. Everyone seemed curiously elated at having seen him.
Disembarked, they began to trail along to the right across the grass and into the woodland that lay between the lake and the main road and which was bordered at the far end by the high Abbey wall as it curved back at right angles from the waterside. Dora, partly as it seemed to tease Paul, began to monopolize Peter Topglass, and was asking him questions about the birds. She was astonished at the variety of creatures which could be seen on even the most casual stroll about the estate. She felt the slightly scandalized surprise of the true town-dweller that all these beasts should be here, displaying themselves, quite free, and getting on with their own lives perfectly unmindful of human patronage and protection. She had been much upset that morning, on the little walk with Paul, to see a magpie flying off from the lake with a frog in its beak.
'Do you think the frog knew what was happening? Do you think animals suffer as we do?'
'Who can say?' said Peter. 'But for myself I believe with Shakespeare that "the poor beetle that we tread upon in corporal sufferance feels a pang as great as when a giant dies".'
'Why can't the animals all be good to each other and live at peace?' said Dora, twirling the parasol.
'Why can't human beings?' said Michael to Toby, who was walking beside him.
The other three were drawing ahead. Peter swung along light-heartedly, the sun glinting on his spectacles, his field-glasses and camera bumping on his back, setting now a more vigorous pace. His bald spot was shining, burnt to a glowing red. Looking at him affectionately Michael marvelled at his detachment, his absorption in his beloved studies, his absence of competitive vanity. He lacked that dimension of the spirit which made James formidable as well as endearing; but he was a person who, like Chaucer's gentle knight, was remarkable for harming no one.
They had now entered the wood. Dora kept step with Peter, and the two of them occupied the narrow path, while Paul, who insisted on holding onto Dora's arm, had to stumble along in the undergrowth, falling over brambles and tufts of grass.
Toby, now quite at his ease, and obviously very happy, kept up a desultory chatter, stopping every now and then and dropping behind to inspect wild flowers, investigate fugitive rustlings, or peer into mysterious bolt-holes in the earth. Michael paced along evenly, feeling pleasantly older and protective and unusually cheerful. He wondered if anything would come of his having lodged Toby with Nick. The idea had seemed to Michael when he first had it, which was before he