warmed to a full fragrance by the blaze of a wood fire. All these things were her, the silky rugs, the plump cushions, especially the mantelpiece, her little shrine; the Meissen cockatoos, the Italian silver cup, the Waterford glass, the snuff-box, which I had given her when we were engaged, with the legend: Friendship without Interest and Love without Deceit . It was a new and fierce pain to look on all this and see it as something mortal, indeed as something already perished, disintegrated, meaningless, and waiting to be taken away. Tomorrow Antonia and I would be dividing up these objects as so mush dreary loot, to be stored away in cupboards like guilty secrets or desecrated by the labels of the auctioneer. I touched the Waterford glass with my finger: and in its ring I heard the echo of a voice saying You do not really want your wife back after all . I answered the voice in my heart: a bond of this kind is deeper and stronger than wanting or not wanting. Wherever I am in the world and whenever I am I shall always be Antonia.
I sat down on the sofa. Georgie turned from looking out of the window and came towards me. The untidy bundle of her hair was contained in the upturned collar of her coat and she kept her hands deep in her pockets as for some time she stared down at me with a look of almost hostile tenderness. She said at last, ‘ Do you hate seeing me here? ’
I said, ‘ No. I can ’ t tell you how entirely good for me it is to see you here. But there ’ s such pain too. ’
‘ I know, ’ she said, her voice deep, weighted with understanding. ‘ Don ’ t be angry with me because of the pain. ’
‘ I am far from that. I feel more like kissing your feet. You ’ ve put up with so much from me. ’ As I spoke these words I felt myself, obscurely yet positively, upon the road towards making Georgie my wife. I had told her once that secrecy was essential to our love. Seeing her in this room, and thus joining the two halves of my life, seemed to prove me wrong and her right. The lies should indeed be done away with: and so far from breaking the texture of my love for Georgie this would set it free to be something stronger and purer than anything I had yet known. Gratitude to her, gratitude for her loyalty, her reason, her sheer kindness to me, possessed my heart.
‘ Ah, you ’ re hating me! ’ said Georgie. She was still staring down at me intently, as if to wrest the thoughts out of my head.
‘ If you only knew how wrong you are! ’ I said. I gave her back a steady unsmiling stare, and felt pleasure at the idea of surprising her, rewarding her, with my better love. God knows she deserved it.
I got up and began to collect the Christmas cards from the piano. Beneath them it was thick with dust. The business of clearing up had begun.
‘ It ’ s so strange and moving to be here! ’ said Georgie. She had begun to roam about the room again. ‘ I can ’ t think what it ’ s like. It ’ s like possessing you retrospectively. No, not quite. But you ’ ve no idea how completely I assumed that I would never sec this place. I will now come to believe, and this will be better, so much better, that in the past, all that time that you were away from me, you really went on existing. It was too painful to believe at the time. But I knew that not to believe it was a failure of love. Now, with your help, I can put that right. I shall love you better, much better, Martin, in the future. ’
She came to a standstill in front of me. I was deeply affected by the way in which her words echoed my thought. I sought for, but could not yet find, some eloquence by which to draw her closer in a preliminary exchange of vows.
I threw the pile of Christmas cards on the floor and led Georgie with me towards the mantelpiece. I said, ‘ I want you to touch everything. I want you to touch all these things. ’
She hesitated. ‘ It would be sacrilege. I should suffer for it! ’
‘ No, ’ I said. ‘ It will be good
I sat down on the sofa. Georgie turned from looking out of the window and came towards me. The untidy bundle of her hair was contained in the upturned collar of her coat and she kept her hands deep in her pockets as for some time she stared down at me with a look of almost hostile tenderness. She said at last, ‘ Do you hate seeing me here? ’
I said, ‘ No. I can ’ t tell you how entirely good for me it is to see you here. But there ’ s such pain too. ’
‘ I know, ’ she said, her voice deep, weighted with understanding. ‘ Don ’ t be angry with me because of the pain. ’
‘ I am far from that. I feel more like kissing your feet. You ’ ve put up with so much from me. ’ As I spoke these words I felt myself, obscurely yet positively, upon the road towards making Georgie my wife. I had told her once that secrecy was essential to our love. Seeing her in this room, and thus joining the two halves of my life, seemed to prove me wrong and her right. The lies should indeed be done away with: and so far from breaking the texture of my love for Georgie this would set it free to be something stronger and purer than anything I had yet known. Gratitude to her, gratitude for her loyalty, her reason, her sheer kindness to me, possessed my heart.
‘ Ah, you ’ re hating me! ’ said Georgie. She was still staring down at me intently, as if to wrest the thoughts out of my head.
‘ If you only knew how wrong you are! ’ I said. I gave her back a steady unsmiling stare, and felt pleasure at the idea of surprising her, rewarding her, with my better love. God knows she deserved it.
I got up and began to collect the Christmas cards from the piano. Beneath them it was thick with dust. The business of clearing up had begun.
‘ It ’ s so strange and moving to be here! ’ said Georgie. She had begun to roam about the room again. ‘ I can ’ t think what it ’ s like. It ’ s like possessing you retrospectively. No, not quite. But you ’ ve no idea how completely I assumed that I would never sec this place. I will now come to believe, and this will be better, so much better, that in the past, all that time that you were away from me, you really went on existing. It was too painful to believe at the time. But I knew that not to believe it was a failure of love. Now, with your help, I can put that right. I shall love you better, much better, Martin, in the future. ’
She came to a standstill in front of me. I was deeply affected by the way in which her words echoed my thought. I sought for, but could not yet find, some eloquence by which to draw her closer in a preliminary exchange of vows.
I threw the pile of Christmas cards on the floor and led Georgie with me towards the mantelpiece. I said, ‘ I want you to touch everything. I want you to touch all these things. ’
She hesitated. ‘ It would be sacrilege. I should suffer for it! ’
‘ No, ’ I said. ‘ It will be good
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