第三十四章
第二天吃了午饭，他俩带着旅行毛毯和软垫来到喷水池边。虽然他们随身还带着书，但谁也没心思去看。威尔金森小姐舒舒服服安顿好之后，信手撑开那柄大红伞面的阳伞。现在菲利普已无所顾忌，可是一上来威尔金森小姐却不许他吻自己。
"昨晚，我太有失检点啦，"她说，"我怎么也睡不着，觉得自己做了亏心事。"
"瞎扯淡！"他大声说。"我可以肯定你昨晚睡得才香哪。"
"你不想想，要是让你大伯知道了，他会怎么说？"
"瞧你说的，他才不会知道呢！"
他向她凑过身子，心儿扑通扑通直跳。
"你为什么想吻我？"
他知道自己该回答一句"因为我爱你嘛"，可就是说不出口。
"你倒说说看呢？"他反诘一句。
她满眼含笑地瞅着他，同时用手指尖轻轻地触摸他的脸。
"瞧你的脸蛋多滑嫩！"她悄声儿说。
"我的脸真得勤刮才行，"他说。
说来也奇怪，想不到谈情说爱竟这么难！他觉得沉默反倒比言语更能帮自己的忙，他可以用目光来表达无法言传的情感。威尔金森小姐叹了口气。
"你到底喜欢我不？"
"喜欢得很哩。"
他又凑上去要吻她，这回她半推半就了。菲利普看上去热情冲动，其实是在虚张声势，他在扮演风流情种的角色，而且自觉演得惟妙惟肖。
"你开始让我有点害怕了，"威尔金森小姐说。
"吃过晚饭你出来好吗？"他恳求说。
"除非你答应别胡来。"
"随你说什么我全答应。"
这股半真半假拨弄起来的情焰，现在真的烧到他身上来了。下午用茶点时，他嘻嘻哈哈，旁若无人，威尔金森小姐心神不安地看着他。
"你那双忽闪忽闪的眸子该悠着点才是，"她后来对他说。"你的路易莎伯母会怎么想呢？"
"她怎么想我才不管呢！"
威尔金森小姐快活地呵呵一笑。晚饭刚一吃完，菲利普就冲着她说："你可高兴陪我去抽支烟？"
"你就不能让威尔金森小姐好好歇会儿？"凯里太太说。"别忘了她可不像你那么年轻。"
"哦，我就是想出去走走呢，凯里太太，"她颇不买帐地说。
"吃罢午饭走一程，吃罢晚饭歇一阵，"牧师说。
"你伯母为人挺好，可就是有时候婆婆妈妈的惹人恼火，"他们出了屋子刚把边门带上，威尔金森小姐就咕嗜了这么一句。
菲利普把刚点着的烟卷往地上一扔，张开胳臂猛地将她搂住。她用力想把他推开。
"你答应过不胡来的，菲利普。"
"你也不见得真的相信我会信守这种诺言的，是吗？"
"别这样，离屋子太近了，菲利普，"她说。"万一有人突然打屋里出来呢？"
菲利普把她引到菜园子里，这时候没人会上这儿来，而这一回威尔金森小姐也没有想到蛆妮虫。菲利普热烈地吻她。有一点他百思不得其解：早晨，他对她一无好感；过了中午，觉得她尚可人意；可是到了晚上，一碰到她的手，魂儿就被摄了去。而且怎么也想不到，自己的舌头也变巧了，竟能吐出那一连串绵绵情话来。如果在大白天，那是无论如何也说不出口的，连他自己听了，得意之余也不免暗觉惊讶。
"谈情说爱你还真有一手哩，"她说。
他自己也是这么想的。
"哦，要是我能把心中燃烧的激情一古脑儿倾吐出来，那有多好！"他口气热烈地喃喃低语。
真是妙不可言！他还从未玩过这么富有刺激性的游戏，妙就妙在他说的每句话差不多都出自肺腑，只是略带几分夸张罢了。看到这一切竟在她身上立时奏效，他不仅觉得极有趣，而且兴奋得什么似的。最后，她显然费了好大劲才开得口，说她要回屋去了。
"哦，别现在就走，"他嚷道。
"一定得走了，"她嘟哝着说。"我心里害怕。"
他突然产生一种直觉，知道此刻该作何反应才不失分寸。
"我现在不能进屋去，我要留在这儿好好想想，我双颊发烫，需要吹点晚风凉凉。晚安。"
菲利普煞有介事地伸出手，她默然不语地握着。他觉得她在竭力克制，不让自己发出呜咽之声。哦，真带劲！他一个人在黑洞洞的园子里，百无聊赖地呆了一段时间，想想也说得过去了，便走进屋子，发现威尔金森小姐已回房睡觉去了。
打这以后，他俩之间的关系自然已非同一般。第二天和第三天，菲利普俨然是个堕入情网的热恋之人。他发现威尔金森小姐爱上了自己，心里美滋滋的，好不得意：她用英语对他这么说，也用法语对他这么说。她向他倾诉钦慕之情。过去，从未有谁当面说他有一双迷人的眼睛，有一张肉感的嘴。他一向很少在个人仪表上劳神费心，可现在一有机会，就要在镜子面前顾影自怜一番。在同她接吻的时候，菲利普能感受到那股似乎使她心灵震颤的激情，真是奇哉妙也。他经常吻她，因为这要比说些个卿卿我我的情话来得容易。不过，他本能地感到她巴不得自己能在她耳边情语吁吁。即使现在，要向她吐露爱慕之意，仍使自己觉得愚蠢可笑。他情场得意，满希望眼前能有个把听他吹嘘夸耀的人，愿意同此人讨论自己谈情说爱时的细微末节。有时她说的事儿挺玄乎，听得他如堕五里雾中。要是海沃德在这儿就好了，可以向他请教她说的究竟是什么意思，自己下一步最好采取什么行动。是速战速决呢，还是听其自然，他拿不定主意。现在只剩下三个星期的时间了。
"一想到假期快要结束，我就受不了，"她说，"我难过得心如刀剐，到时候咱俩说不定就此永别了。"
"你要是果真对我有半点情意，决不会对我这么狠心，"他低声说。
"哦，咱俩一直就这样，不是挺好的吗，你为什么还不满足？男人全都一个样，得寸进尺，永远没有满足的时候。"
在他死乞白赖纠缠之下，她只得说：
"你没看到这不可能嘛！这儿怎么行呢？"
他提出种种方案，可她说什么也不肯沾边试试。
"我可不敢冒这份险，万一被你伯母发觉了，岂不糟透！"
一两天后，他想出了个看来是万无一失的好主意。
"听着，如果星期天晚上你推说头疼，愿意留下看家，那么路易莎伯母就会上教堂去了。
通常星期天晚上，为了好让玛丽·安上教堂，凯里太太总是留下来看家。不过，要是有机会参加晚祷，她是不大肯放过的。
菲利普在德国时已改变了对基督教的看法，不过他觉着没有必要让他的亲戚们知道，也个指望取得他们的谅解，看来还是不声不响地去教堂。做礼拜的好，省得给自己找麻烦。但他只在早晨去一次，把这看成是对社会偏见所作的一种体面让步；他拒绝晚间再上教堂，认为这是他决心维护思想*的一种恰如其分的表示。
当他提出这个建议时，威尔金森小姐沉吟了半晌，然后摇摇头。
"不，我不干，"她说。
可是到了星期天下午用茶点时，她却大大出乎菲利普的意外。
"我今晚不想去教堂了，"冷不防她竟这么说了。"我头疼得好厉害。"
凯里太太十分关心，一个劲儿劝她服用几滴她自己经常喝的"头痛药水"。威尔金森小姐谢谢她的好意，喝完茶就说要回房去休息了。
"你真的啥也不需要吗？"凯里太太焦虑地问。
"啥也不要，谢谢您。"
"要真是这样，我可要上教堂去了。平时我很少有机会去做晚祷。"
"哦，行，您放心去是了！"
"还有我在家呢，"菲利普说，"威尔金森小姐如果需要点什么，可以差遣我嘛。"
"你最好把起居室的门开着，菲利普，这样，要是威尔金森小姐打铃，你就听得到了。"
"好的，"菲利普说。
于是，过了六时，家里只剩下菲利普和威尔金森小姐他们俩。菲利普反倒害怕起来，心里慌得很，他真心懊悔，自己怎么会出这么个馊主意，但现在悔之也晚矣，总不能把好不容易才争取来的机会白白放过吧。要是他临阵退却，威尔金森小姐会怎么想呢！菲利普走到穿堂里，侧耳细听，屋里悄无声息，不知道威尔金森小姐是不是真的头疼。说不定她早就把他的建议给忘啦。他的心痛苦地折腾着。他蹑手蹑脚地爬上楼梯。楼梯嘎吱一响，他猛吓一跳，忙不迭收住脚步。他总算来到威尔金森小姐的房门口，先是站在门外听了听，然后把手搭在门把上。又等了一会儿。他似乎在那儿至少伫立了五分钟之久，迟迟拿不定主意，那只手不住哆嗦。要不是怕自己事后会反悔不迭，他早就溜之大吉了。现在好比是已爬上游泳池的最高一层跳台。站在台下仰头往上看，似乎没什么大不了的；可是等你站到跳台上，再朝下凝望水面，心儿不免凉了半截。仅仅因为怕出乖露丑，才肯硬着头皮纵身下跳。如果从刚才爬上来的阶梯再畏畏葸葸地爬下去，多丢人。菲利普鼓足勇气，轻轻地转动门把，挪步走了进去。他觉得自己浑身筛糠，好似风中的一片残叶。
威尔金森小姐站在梳妆台前，背对着门，一听到开门声，忙转过身来。
"哦，是你啊！你来干什么？"
她已脱掉了裙子和上衣，就穿着条衬裙站在那儿。衬裙很短，只齐靴帮高；裙摆是用一种乌黑发亮的料于缝制成的，下面镶着一条荷叶边。她上身穿着件短袖白布衬衣。她那副怪模样，菲利普看了心都凉透了。从未见到她像此刻这样缺少韵致，可是事到如今，已断无后退的余地。他随手把门带上，并上了锁。
Chapter 34
Next day after dinner they took their rugs and cushions to the fountain, and their books; but they did not read. Miss Wilkinson made herself comfortable and she opened the red sun-shade. Philip was not at all shy now, but at first she would not let him kiss her.
‘It was very wrong of me last night,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t sleep, I felt I’d done so wrong.’
‘What nonsense!’ he cried. ‘I’m sure you slept like a top.’
‘What do you think your uncle would say if he knew?’
‘There’s no reason why he should know.’
He leaned over her, and his heart went pit-a-pat.
‘Why d’you want to kiss me?’
He knew he ought to reply: ‘Because I love you.’ But he could not bring himself to say it.
‘Why do you think?’ he asked instead.
She looked at him with smiling eyes and touched his face with the tips of her fingers.
‘How smooth your face is,’ she murmured.
‘I want shaving awfully,’ he said.
It was astonishing how difficult he found it to make romantic speeches. He found that silence helped him much more than words. He could look inexpressible things. Miss Wilkinson sighed.
‘Do you like me at all?’
‘Yes, awfully.’
When he tried to kiss her again she did not resist. He pretended to be much more passionate than he really was, and he succeeded in playing a part which looked very well in his own eyes.
‘I’m beginning to be rather frightened of you,’ said Miss Wilkinson.
‘You’ll come out after supper, won’t you?’ he begged.
‘Not unless you promise to behave yourself.’
‘I’ll promise anything.’
He was catching fire from the flame he was partly simulating, and at tea-time he was obstreperously merry. Miss Wilkinson looked at him nervously.
‘You mustn’t have those shining eyes,’ she said to him afterwards. ‘What will your Aunt Louisa think?’
‘I don’t care what she thinks.’
Miss Wilkinson gave a little laugh of pleasure. They had no sooner finished supper than he said to her:
‘Are you going to keep me company while I smoke a cigarette?’
‘Why don’t you let Miss Wilkinson rest?’ said Mrs. Carey. ‘You must remember she’s not as young as you.’
‘Oh, I’d like to go out, Mrs. Carey,’ she said, rather acidly.
‘After dinner walk a mile, after supper rest a while,’ said the Vicar.
‘Your aunt is very nice, but she gets on my nerves sometimes,’ said Miss Wilkinson, as soon as they closed the side-door behind them.
Philip threw away the cigarette he had just lighted, and flung his arms round her. She tried to push him away.
‘You promised you’d be good, Philip.’
‘You didn’t think I was going to keep a promise like that?’
‘Not so near the house, Philip,’ she said. ‘Supposing someone should come out suddenly?’
He led her to the kitchen garden where no one was likely to come, and this time Miss Wilkinson did not think of earwigs. He kissed her passionately. It was one of the things that puzzled him that he did not like her at all in the morning, and only moderately in the afternoon, but at night the touch of her hand thrilled him. He said things that he would never have thought himself capable of saying; he could certainly never have said them in the broad light of day; and he listened to himself with wonder and satisfaction.
‘How beautifully you make love,’ she said.
That was what he thought himself.
‘Oh, if I could only say all the things that burn my heart!’ he murmured passionately.
It was splendid. It was the most thrilling game he had ever played; and the wonderful thing was that he felt almost all he said. It was only that he exaggerated a little. He was tremendously interested and excited in the effect he could see it had on her. It was obviously with an effort that at last she suggested going in.
‘Oh, don’t go yet,’ he cried.
‘I must,’ she muttered. ‘I’m frightened.’
He had a sudden intuition what was the right thing to do then.
‘I can’t go in yet. I shall stay here and think. My cheeks are burning. I want the night-air. Good-night.’
He held out his hand seriously, and she took it in silence. He thought she stifled a sob. Oh, it was magnificent! When, after a decent interval during which he had been rather bored in the dark garden by himself, he went in he found that Miss Wilkinson had already gone to bed.
After that things were different between them. The next day and the day after Philip showed himself an eager lover. He was deliciously flattered to discover that Miss Wilkinson was in love with him: she told him so in English, and she told him so in French. She paid him compliments. No one had ever informed him before that his eyes were charming and that he had a sensual mouth. He had never bothered much about his personal appearance, but now, when occasion presented, he looked at himself in the glass with satisfaction. When he kissed her it was wonderful to feel the passion that seemed to thrill her soul. He kissed her a good deal, for he found it easier to do that than to say the things he instinctively felt she expected of him. It still made him feel a fool to say he worshipped her. He wished there were someone to whom he could boast a little, and he would willingly have discussed minute points of his conduct. Sometimes she said things that were enigmatic, and he was puzzled. He wished Hayward had been there so that he could ask him what he thought she meant, and what he had better do next. He could not make up his mind whether he ought to rush things or let them take their time. There were only three weeks more.
‘I can’t bear to think of that,’ she said. ‘It breaks my heart. And then perhaps we shall never see one another again.’
‘If you cared for me at all, you wouldn’t be so unkind to me,’ he whispered.
‘Oh, why can’t you be content to let it go on as it is? Men are always the same. They’re never satisfied.’
And when he pressed her, she said:
‘But don’t you see it’s impossible. How can we here?’
He proposed all sorts of schemes, but she would not have anything to do with them.
‘I daren’t take the risk. It would be too dreadful if your aunt found out.’
A day or two later he had an idea which seemed brilliant.
‘Look here, if you had a headache on Sunday evening and offered to stay at home and look after the house, Aunt Louisa would go to church.’
Generally Mrs. Carey remained in on Sunday evening in order to allow Mary Ann to go to church, but she would welcome the opportunity of attending evensong.
Philip had not found it necessary to impart to his relations the change in his views on Christianity which had occurred in Germany; they could not be expected to understand; and it seemed less trouble to go to church quietly. But he only went in the morning. He regarded this as a graceful concession to the prejudices of society and his refusal to go a second time as an adequate assertion of free thought.
When he made the suggestion, Miss Wilkinson did not speak for a moment, then shook her head.
‘No, I won’t,’ she said.
But on Sunday at tea-time she surprised Philip. ‘I don’t think I’ll come to church this evening,’ she said suddenly. ‘I’ve really got a dreadful headache.’
Mrs. Carey, much concerned, insisted on giving her some ‘drops’ which she was herself in the habit of using. Miss Wilkinson thanked her, and immediately after tea announced that she would go to her room and lie down.
‘Are you sure there’s nothing you’ll want?’ asked Mrs. Carey anxiously.
‘Quite sure, thank you.’
‘Because, if there isn’t, I think I’ll go to church. I don’t often have the chance of going in the evening.’
‘Oh yes, do go.’
‘I shall be in,’ said Philip. ‘If Miss Wilkinson wants anything, she can always call me.’
‘You’d better leave the drawing-room door open, Philip, so that if Miss Wilkinson rings, you’ll hear.’
‘Certainly,’ said Philip.
So after six o’clock Philip was left alone in the house with Miss Wilkinson. He felt sick with apprehension. He wished with all his heart that he had not suggested the plan; but it was too late now; he must take the opportunity which he had made. What would Miss Wilkinson think of him if he did not! He went into the hall and listened. There was not a sound. He wondered if Miss Wilkinson really had a headache. Perhaps she had forgotten his suggestion. His heart beat painfully. He crept up the stairs as softly as he could, and he stopped with a start when they creaked. He stood outside Miss Wilkinson’s room and listened; he put his hand on the knob of the door-handle. He waited. It seemed to him that he waited for at least five minutes, trying to make up his mind; and his hand trembled. He would willingly have bolted, but he was afraid of the remorse which he knew would seize him. It was like getting on the highest diving-board in a swimming-bath; it looked nothing from below, but when you got up there and stared down at the water your heart sank; and the only thing that forced you to dive was the shame of coming down meekly by the steps you had climbed up. Philip screwed up his courage. He turned the handle softly and walked in. He seemed to himself to be trembling like a leaf.
Miss Wilkinson was standing at the dressing-table with her back to the door, and she turned round quickly when she heard it open.
‘Oh, it’s you. What d’you want?’
She had taken off her skirt and blouse, and was standing in her petticoat. It was short and only came down to the top of her boots; the upper part of it was black, of some shiny material, and there was a red flounce. She wore a camisole of white calico with short arms. She looked grotesque. Philip’s heart sank as he stared at her; she had never seemed so unattractive; but it was too late now. He closed the door behind him and locked it.
