Mortal Coils

the funeral," old General Grego was saying as he stood, his top hat in his h

trous great mulberry, spotted with meal! Was there no respect for the dead? Did nobody care? In theory he didn't much care; let the dead bury their dead. But here, at the graveside, he had found himse

cabs and motors assembled in the road outside. Against the brilliant background of the July grass and flowers and foliage,

l. It was after midnight when he had finished. He got up from his armchair, unbolted the French windows, and stepped out on to the little paved terrace. The night was quiet and clear. Mr. Hutton l

he noble and the ignoble? Milton, the stars, death, and himself-himself. The soul, the body; the higher and the lower nature. Perhaps there was something in it, after all. Milton had a god on his side and rig

the gods: "I will, I will." There had been New Year's days and solemn anniversaries in the past, when he had felt the same contritions and recorded similar resolutions. They had all thinned away, these resolutions, like smoke, into nothingness. But this was a g

farmed in the best modern way-silos and artificial manures and continuous cropping, and all that. The remainder of the day should

after his return to conscious life that he remembered his resolution, his Stygian oath. Milton and death seemed somehow different in the sunlight. As for the stars, they were not there. But the resolutions were good; even in the daytime he could see that. He had his horse saddled after breakfast, and rode round the farm with

andwriting which he knew to be Doris's. He opened it, and began to read. She didn't know what to say; words were so inadequate.

appy, and I don't know what to do. I can't get rid of the idea of dying, I am so wretched and helpless without you. I didn't mean to write to you; I meant to wait till you were out of mourning and could come and see me again, but I was so lonely and miserable, Teddy Bear, I had to write. I couldn't help it. Forgive me, I want you so much; I have nobody in the

Once upon a time he had believed himself to be a hedonist. But to be a hedonist implies a certain process of reasoning, a deliberate choice of known pleasures, a rejection of known pains. This had been done without reason, against it. For he knew beforehand-so well, so well-that there was no interest or pleasure to be derived from these wretched affairs. And yet each time

her again. A servant came to tell him that his horse was saddled and waiting. He

ehead, and was trying to feel like a tripper. That night, when Doris was asleep, breathing and warm by his side, he recaptured, in this moment of darkness and physical fatigue, the rather cosmic emotion which had possessed him that eveni

e arm and shoulder, her neck, and the dark tangle of hair on the pillow. She was beautiful, desirable. Why did he lie there moaning over his sins? What did it matter? If he were hopeless, then so be it; he would make the best o

f serene merriment. The whole atmosphere seeme

do, Teddy Bear?" The question came

lied. The submarine laughter was swelling, rising,

ome very close; charged with suspicion, anguish,

-a

ho

he joke until it began to grow tedious, an

f the Manor? That old woman?" It was

ast joke. He would go and see her as soon as he returned-s

n't ... you do

laughed aloud. "I intend to marry you," he said. It s

me being, the fact should be kept secret. In the autumn they would go abroad together, and t

r in the afternoon to see Miss Spence.

ecting you

away," Mr. Hutton

temple bowered among dense bushes of evergreen. Miss Spence had left her m

aid Mr. Hutton. He felt like a ginger-beer bottl

osed her eyes ecstatically

et yoursel

hasn't the energy and ini

s and throaty singing. "Yes, tr

es were still closed. Mr. Hutton stroked his moustache. Th

n, to the valley below and the farther hills. Light ebbed away; the heat and silence were oppressive. A huge cloud was mounting up the sky, and there were distant breathings

a long silence by

ight to a certain amount

placid existence disturbed by no great griefs or discomforts or alarms. He had always had money and freedom; he had been able to do very much as he wanted. Yes, he supposed he had been happy-hap

have a right to be happy

Mr. Hutto

asn't treated eithe

might have tre

brave of you. But don't think

more and more heavily. Periodically the thunder cut across

od you so well a

towards him. Her eyes were two profound and me

anion soul. I could sympathise with yo

ce. Miss Spence's voice became a

onship to a man of your sta

d seen that in the paper a few days ago. So it was thus that Janet Spence had painted him in her imagination-a soul-mater.

laid her hand on his knee. "You were so patient." Another flash. She was stil

you!" So he was

man's intu

the ram was left. The thunder was his laughter, magnified, exter

to this storm?" He could imagine her leaning forward as she ut

on some unequivocal gesture. But Mr. Hutton suddenly took fright. The ginger be

perately answered. "I

he was telling him, as far as he could make out, the story of her life. The lightning was less frequent now, and there were long intervals of darkness. But at each flash he saw her still aiming towards him, still yearning forward with a terrifyin

to the night in pursuit. Or should he say that he felt faint, a heart attack? or that he had seen, a ghost-Emily's ghost-in the garden? Absorbed

for that, Henry,

d him f

the marriage was, as it was in your case, an unhappy one, made

ghost in the garden

nry, all the more. But

the dark, and she was kneeli

nry, I have be

er body he could feel that she was sobbing. Sh

ust be calm; you must go to bed." He patted her shoulder, then got up, disengaging himself from h

e front door noiselessly behind him. The clouds had blown over, and the moon was shining from a clear sky. There were puddles all a

re was a certain resentment: why couldn't she have played the game that he was playing the heartless, amusing ga

, a cloud black bosomed and charged with thunder, and he, like some absurd little Benjamin Franklin, had

kneeling by that chai

leaving him suddenly sober in a cold world? There were no answers to any of his questions. O