The Bell - Iris Murdoch [66]
'I liked your service,' said Dora, for something to say. She wanted to get into the sun, and began to walk slowly down the steps. Catherine walked with her.
'Yes,' said Catherine. 'It's quite simple, but it suits us. It's difficult, you know, for a lay community where nothing's ordained. It all has to be invented as you go along.'
They began to walk across the grass, taking the path towards the causeway.
'You've tried different things?' said Dora vaguely.
'Oh yes,' said Catherine. 'At first we had it that everyone said the whole Office privately every day. But it was too much of a strain.'
Dora, who had very little conception of what the Office was, heartily agreed. It sounded awful.
They walked out a little on to the causeway. The sun cast their shadows onto the water. The bricks, overgrown with moss and small plants, were warm underfoot; Dora could feel the warmth through her light shoes. The strong sense she now had of her companion's shyness and nervousness set her at ease. She felt less afraid of Catherine, glad to be with her.
'It's so hot,' she said, 'it makes one want to swim. I can't swim - I wish I could. I expect you can. Everyone can except me.'
'I never go into the water,' said Catherine. 'I can swim, but not at all well, and I don't like it. I think I must be afraid of water. I often dream about drowning.' She looked rather sombrely down at the lake: in the shadow of the causeway it was obscure and green, the water thick, full of weeds and floating matter.
'Do you? How funny. I never do,' said Dora. She turned to look at Catherine. It came to her how very melancholy she looked; and Dora, her imagination abruptly set in motion, wondered for a moment whether Catherine could possibly really want to be a nun.
'You can't really want to go in there!' said Dora suddenly. 'To shut yourself up like that, when you're so young and so beautiful. I'm sorry, this is very rude and awful, I know. But it makes me quite miserable to think of you in there!'
Catherine looked up, surprised, and then smiled very kindly, looking straight at Dora for the first time. 'There are things one doesn't choose,' she said. 'I don't mean they're forced on one. But one doesn't choose them. These are often the best things.'
I was right, thought Dora, triumphantly. She doesn't want to go in. It's a sort of conspiracy against her. They've all been saying for so long that she's going in, and calling her their little saint and so on, and now she can't get out of it. And stuff Like what James was saying this morning.
She was about to reply to Catherine when to her irritation she saw Paul coming towards them across the grass. He couldn't leave her alone even for five minutes. Catherine saw him and with a murmur to Dora and an apologetic wave she turned and walked on across the causeway, leaving Dora standing.
Paul came up to her. 'I couldn't think where you'd got to,' he said.
'I wish you'd leave me alone sometimes,' said Dora. 'I was having an interesting conversation with Catherine."
'I can't think what you and Catherine could find to say to each other,' said Paul. 'You seem to have rather different interests!'
'Why shouldn't I talk to Catherine?' said Dora. 'Do you think I'm not worthy to, or something?'
'I didn't say so,' said Paul, 'but you evidently feel something of the sort! If you want my view, I think Catherine is everything that a woman should be - lovely, gentle, modest, and chaste.'
'You don't respect me,' said Dora,