Chapter 111

NextdayPhilipbeganworkagain,buttheendwhichheexpectedwithinafewweeksdidnotcome.Theweekspassedintomonths.Thewinterworeaway,andintheparksthetreesburstintobudandintoleaf.AterriblelassitudesettleduponPhilip.Timewaspassing,thoughitwentwithsuchheavyfeet,andhethoughtthathisyouthwasgoingandsoonhewouldhavelostitandnothingwouldhavebeenaccomplished.Hisworkseemedmoreaimlessnowthattherewasthecertaintyofhisleavingit.Hebecameskilfulinthedesigningofcostumes,andthoughhehadnoinventivefacultyacquiredquicknessintheadaptationofFrenchfashionstotheEnglishmarket.Sometimeshewasnotdispleasedwithhisdrawings,buttheyalwaysbungledthemintheexecution.Hewasamusedtonoticethathesufferedfromalivelyirritationwhenhisideaswerenotadequatelycarriedout.Hehadtowalkwarily.WheneverhesuggestedsomethingoriginalMr.Sampsonturneditdown:theircustomersdidnotwantanythingoutre,itwasaveryrespectableclassofbusiness,andwhenyouhadaconnectionofthatsortitwasn’tworthwhiletakinglibertieswithit.OnceortwicehespokesharplytoPhilip;hethoughttheyoungmanwasgettingabitabovehimself,becausePhilip’sideasdidnotalwayscoincidewithhisown.

“Youjollywelltakecare,myfineyoungfellow,oroneofthesedaysyou’llfindyourselfinthestreet.”

Philiplongedtogivehimapunchonthenose,butherestrainedhimself.Afterallitcouldnotpossiblylastmuchlonger,andthenhewouldbedonewithallthesepeopleforever.Sometimesincomicdesperationhecriedoutthathisunclemustbemadeofiron.Whataconstitution!Theillshesufferedfromwouldhavekilledanydecentpersontwelvemonthsbefore.WhenatlastthenewscamethattheVicarwasdyingPhilip,whohadbeenthinkingofotherthings,wastakenbysurprise.ItwasinJuly,andinanotherfortnighthewastohavegoneforhisholiday.HereceivedaletterfromMrs.FostertosaythedoctordidnotgiveMr.Careymanydaystolive,andifPhilipwishedtoseehimagainhemustcomeatonce.Philipwenttothebuyerandtoldhimhewantedtoleave.Mr.Sampsonwasadecentfellow,andwhenheknewthecircumstancesmadenodifficulties.Philipsaidgood-byetothepeopleinhisdepartment;thereasonofhisleavinghadspreadamongtheminanexaggeratedform,andtheythoughthehadcomeintoafortune.Mrs.Hodgeshadtearsinhereyeswhensheshookhandswithhim.

“Isupposeweshan’toftenseeyouagain,”shesaid.

“I’mgladtogetawayfromLynn’s,”heanswered.

Itwasstrange,buthewasactuallysorrytoleavethesepeoplewhomhethoughthehadloathed,andwhenhedroveawayfromthehouseinHarringtonStreetitwaswithnoexultation.Hehadsoanticipatedtheemotionshewouldexperienceonthisoccasionthatnowhefeltnothing:hewasasunconcernedasthoughheweregoingforafewdays’holiday.

“I’vegotarottennature,”hesaidtohimself.“Ilookforwardtothingsawfully,andthenwhentheycomeI’malwaysdisappointed.”

HereachedBlackstableearlyintheafternoon.Mrs.Fostermethimatthedoor,andherfacetoldhimthathisunclewasnotyetdead.

“He’salittlebettertoday,”shesaid.“He’sgotawonderfulconstitution.”

Sheledhimintothebed-roomwhereMr.Careylayonhisback.HegavePhilipaslightsmile,inwhichwasatraceofsatisfiedcunningathavingcircumventedhisenemyoncemore.

“Ithoughtitwasallupwithmeyesterday,”hesaid,inanexhaustedvoice.“They’dallgivenmeup,hadn’tyou,Mrs.Foster?”

“You’vegotawonderfulconstitution,there’snodenyingthat.”

“There’slifeintheolddogyet.”

Mrs.FostersaidthattheVicarmustnottalk,itwouldtirehim;shetreatedhimlikeachild,withkindlydespotism;andtherewassomethingchildishintheoldman’ssatisfactionathavingcheatedalltheirexpectations.ItstruckhimatoncethatPhiliphadbeensentfor,andhewasamusedthathehadbeenbroughtonafool’serrand.Ifhecouldonlyavoidanotherofhisheartattackshewouldgetwellenoughinaweekortwo;andhehadhadtheattacksseveraltimesbefore;healwaysfeltasifheweregoingtodie,butheneverdid.Theyalltalkedofhisconstitution,buttheynoneofthemknewhowstrongitwas.

“Areyougoingtostayadayortwo?”HeaskedPhilip,pretendingtobelievehehadcomedownforaholiday.

“Iwasthinkingofit,”Philipansweredcheerfully.

“Abreathofsea-airwilldoyougood.”

PresentlyDr.Wigramcame,andafterhehadseentheVicartalkedwithPhilip.Headoptedanappropriatemanner.

“I’mafraiditistheendthistime,Philip,”hesaid.“It’llbeagreatlosstoallofus.I’veknownhimforfive-and-thirtyyears.”

“Heseemswellenoughnow,”saidPhilip.

“I’mkeepinghimaliveondrugs,butitcan’tlast.Itwasdreadfultheselasttwodays,Ithoughthewasdeadhalfadozentimes.”

Thedoctorwassilentforaminuteortwo,butatthegatehesaidsuddenlytoPhilip:

“HasMrs.Fostersaidanythingtoyou?”

“Whatd’youmean?”

“They’reverysuperstitious,thesepeople:she’sgotholdofanideathathe’sgotsomethingonhismind,andhecan’tdietillhegetsridofit;andhecan’tbringhimselftoconfessit.”

Philipdidnotanswer,andthedoctorwenton.

“Ofcourseit’snonsense.He’sledaverygoodlife,he’sdonehisduty,he’sbeenagoodparishpriest,andI’msureweshallallmisshim;hecan’thaveanythingtoreproachhimselfwith.Iverymuchdoubtwhetherthenextvicarwillsuitushalfsowell.”

ForseveraldaysMr.Careycontinuedwithoutchange.Hisappetitewhichhadbeenexcellentlefthim,andhecouldeatlittle.Dr.Wigramdidnothesitatenowtostillthepainoftheneuritiswhichtormentedhim;andthat,withtheconstantshakingofhispalsiedlimbs,wasgraduallyexhaustinghim.Hismindremainedclear.PhilipandMrs.Fosternursedhimbetweenthem.ShewassotiredbythemanymonthsduringwhichshehadbeenattentivetoallhiswantsthatPhilipinsistedonsittingupwiththepatientsothatshemighthavehernight’srest.Hepassedthelonghoursinanarm-chairsothatheshouldnotsleepsoundly,andreadbythelightofshadedcandlesTheThousandandOneNights.Hehadnotreadthemsincehewasalittleboy,andtheybroughtbackhischildhoodtohim.Sometimeshesatandlistenedtothesilenceofthenight.WhentheeffectsoftheopiateworeoffMr.Careygrewrestlessandkepthimconstantlybusy.

Atlast,earlyonemorning,whenthebirdswerechatteringnoisilyinthetrees,heheardhisnamecalled.Hewentuptothebed.Mr.Careywaslyingonhisback,withhiseyeslookingattheceiling;hedidnotturnthemonPhilip.Philipsawthatsweatwasonhisforehead,andhetookatowelandwipedit.

“Isthatyou,Philip?”theoldmanasked.

Philipwasstartledbecausethevoicewassuddenlychanged.Itwashoarseandlow.Sowouldamanspeakifhewascoldwithfear.

“Yes,d’youwantanything?”

Therewasapause,andstilltheunseeingeyesstaredattheceiling.Thenatwitchpassedovertheface.

“IthinkI’mgoingtodie,”hesaid.

“Oh,whatnonsense!”criedPhilip.“You’renotgoingtodieforyears.”

Twotearswerewrungfromtheoldman’seyes.TheymovedPhiliphorribly.Hisunclehadneverbetrayedanyparticularemotionintheaffairsoflife;anditwasdreadfultoseethemnow,fortheysignifiedaterrorthatwasunspeakable.

“SendforMr.Simmonds,”hesaid.“IwanttotaketheCommunion.”

Mr.Simmondswasthecurate.

“Now?”askedPhilip.

“Soon,orelseit’llbetoolate.”

PhilipwenttoawakeMrs.Foster,butitwaslaterthanhethoughtandshewasupalready.Hetoldhertosendthegardenerwithamessage,andhewentbacktohisuncle’sroom.

“HaveyousentforMr.Simmonds?”

“Yes.”

Therewasasilence.Philipsatbythebed-side,andoccasionallywipedthesweatingforehead.

“Letmeholdyourhand,Philip,”theoldmansaidatlast.

Philipgavehimhishandandheclungtoitastolife,forcomfortinhisextremity.Perhapshehadneverreallylovedanyoneinallhisdays,butnowheturnedinstinctivelytoahumanbeing.Hishandwaswetandcold.ItgraspedPhilip’swithfeeble,despairingenergy.Theoldmanwasfightingwiththefearofdeath.AndPhilipthoughtthatallmustgothroughthat.Oh,howmonstrousitwas,andtheycouldbelieveinaGodthatallowedhiscreaturestosuffersuchacrueltorture!Hehadnevercaredforhisuncle,andfortwoyearshehadlongedeverydayforhisdeath;butnowhecouldnotovercomethecompassionthatfilledhisheart.Whatapriceitwastopayforbeingotherthanthebeasts!

TheyremainedinsilencebrokenonlyoncebyalowinquiryfromMr.Carey.

“Hasn’thecomeyet?”

AtlastthehousekeepercameinsoftlytosaythatMr.Simmondswasthere.Hecarriedabaginwhichwerehissurpliceandhishood.Mrs.Fosterbroughtthecommunionplate.Mr.SimmondsshookhandssilentlywithPhilip,andthenwithprofessionalgravitywenttothesickman’sside.Philipandthemaidwentoutoftheroom.

Philipwalkedroundthegardenallfreshanddewyinthemorning.Thebirdsweresinginggaily.Theskywasblue,buttheair,salt-laden,wassweetandcool.Theroseswereinfullbloom.Thegreenofthetrees,thegreenofthelawns,waseagerandbrilliant.Philipwalked,andashewalkedhethoughtofthemysterywhichwasproceedinginthatbedroom.Itgavehimapeculiaremotion.PresentlyMrs.Fostercameouttohimandsaidthathisunclewishedtoseehim.Thecuratewasputtinghisthingsbackintotheblackbag.Thesickmanturnedhisheadalittleandgreetedhimwithasmile.Philipwasastonished,fortherewasachangeinhim,anextraordinarychange;hiseyeshadnolongertheterror-strickenlook,andthepinchingofhisfacehadgone:helookedhappyandserene.

“I’mquitepreparednow,”hesaid,andhisvoicehadadifferenttoneinit.“WhentheLordseesfittocallmeIamreadytogivemysoulintohishands.”

Philipdidnotspeak.Hecouldseethathisunclewassincere.Itwasalmostamiracle.HehadtakenthebodyandbloodofhisSavior,andtheyhadgivenhimstrengthsothathenolongerfearedtheinevitablepassageintothenight.Heknewhewasgoingtodie:hewasresigned.Heonlysaidonethingmore:

“Ishallrejoinmydearwife.”

ItstartledPhilip.Herememberedwithwhatacallousselfishnesshisunclehadtreatedher,howobtusehehadbeentoherhumble,devotedlove.Thecurate,deeplymoved,wentawayandMrs.Foster,weeping,accompaniedhimtothedoor.Mr.Carey,exhaustedbyhiseffort,fellintoalightdoze,andPhilipsatdownbythebedandwaitedfortheend.Themorningworeon,andtheoldman’sbreathinggrewstertorous.Thedoctorcameandsaidhewasdying.Hewasunconsciousandhepeckedfeeblyatthesheets;hewasrestlessandhecriedout.Dr.Wigramgavehimahypodermicinjection.

“Itcan’tdoanygoodnow,hemaydieatanymoment.”

Thedoctorlookedathiswatchandthenatthepatient.Philipsawthatitwasoneo’clock.Dr.Wigramwasthinkingofhisdinner.

“It’snouseyourwaiting,”hesaid.

“There’snothingIcando,”saidthedoctor.

WhenhewasgoneMrs.FosteraskedPhilipifhewouldgotothecarpenter,whowasalsotheundertaker,andtellhimtosendupawomantolayoutthebody.

“Youwantalittlefreshair,”shesaid,“it’lldoyougood.”

Theundertakerlivedhalfamileaway.WhenPhilipgavehimhismessage,hesaid:

“Whendidthepooroldgentlemandie?”

Philiphesitated.Itoccurredtohimthatitwouldseembrutaltofetchawomantowashthebodywhilehisunclestilllived,andhewonderedwhyMrs.Fosterhadaskedhimtocome.Theywouldthinkhewasinagreathurrytokilltheoldmanoff.Hethoughttheundertakerlookedathimoddly.Herepeatedthequestion.ItirritatedPhilip.Itwasnobusinessofhis.

“WhendidtheVicarpassaway?”

Philip’sfirstimpulsewastosaythatithadjusthappened,butthenitwouldseeminexplicableifthesickmanlingeredforseveralhours.Hereddenedandansweredawkwardly.

“Oh,heisn’texactlydeadyet.”

Theundertakerlookedathiminperplexity,andhehurriedtoexplain.

“Mrs.Fosterisallaloneandshewantsawomanthere.Youunderstood,don’tyou?Hemaybedeadbynow.”

Theundertakernodded.

“Oh,yes,Isee.I’llsendsomeoneupatonce.”

WhenPhilipgotbacktothevicaragehewentuptothebed-room.Mrs.Fosterrosefromherchairbythebed-side.

“He’sjustashewaswhenyouleft,”shesaid.

Shewentdowntogetherselfsomethingtoeat,andPhilipwatchedcuriouslytheprocessofdeath.Therewasnothinghumannowintheunconsciousbeingthatstruggledfeebly.Sometimesamutteredejaculationissuedfromtheloosemouth.Thesunbeatdownhotlyfromacloudlesssky,butthetreesinthegardenwerepleasantandcool.Itwasalovelyday.Abluebottlebuzzedagainstthewindowpane.Suddenlytherewasaloudrattle,itmadePhilipstart,itwashorriblyfrightening;amovementpassedthroughthelimbsandtheoldmanwasdead.Themachinehadrundown.Thebluebottlebuzzed,buzzednoisilyagainstthewindowpane.