Howards End | Page 5

Paul and I are
in love--the younger son who only came here Wednesday."

CHAPTER II
Margaret glanced at her sister's note and pushed it over the
breakfast-table to her aunt. There was a moment's hush, and then the
flood-gates opened.
"I can tell you nothing, Aunt Juley. I know no more than you do. We
met--we only met the father and mother abroad last spring. I know so
little that I didn't even know their son's name. It's all so--" She waved
her hand and laughed a little.
"In that case it is far too sudden."
"Who knows, Aunt Juley, who knows?"
"But, Margaret, dear, I mean, we mustn't be unpractical now that we've
come to facts. It is too sudden, surely."
"Who knows!"
"But, Margaret, dear--"
"I'll go for her other letters," said Margaret. "No, I won't, I'll finish my
breakfast. In fact, I haven't them. We met the Wilcoxes on an awful
expedition that we made from Heidelberg to Speyer. Helen and I had
got it into our heads that there was a grand old cathedral at Speyer--the

Archbishop of Speyer was one of the seven electors--you
know--'Speyer, Maintz, and Koln.' Those three sees once commanded
the Rhine Valley and got it the name of Priest Street."
"I still feel quite uneasy about this business, Margaret."
"The train crossed by a bridge of boats, and at first sight it looked quite
fine. But oh, in five minutes we had seen the whole thing. The
cathedral had been ruined, absolutely ruined, by restoration; not an inch
left of the original structure. We wasted a whole day, and came across
the Wilcoxes as we were eating our sandwiches in the public gardens.
They too, poor things, had been taken in--they were actually stopping
at Speyer--and they rather liked Helen's insisting that they must fly
with us to Heidelberg. As a matter of fact, they did come on next day.
We all took some drives together. They knew us well enough to ask
Helen to come and see them--at least, I was asked too, but Tibby's
illness prevented me, so last Monday she went alone. That's all. You
know as much as I do now. It's a young man out of the unknown. She
was to have come back Saturday, but put off till Monday, perhaps on
account of--I don't know."
She broke off, and listened to the sounds of a London morning. Their
house was in Wickham Place, and fairly quiet, for a lofty promontory
of buildings separated it from the main thoroughfare. One had the sense
of a backwater, or rather of an estuary, whose waters flowed in from
the invisible sea, and ebbed into a profound silence while the waves
without were still beating. Though the promontory consisted of
flats--expensive, with cavernous entrance halls, full of concierges and
palms--it fulfilled its purpose, and gained for the older houses opposite
a certain measure of peace.
These, too, would be swept away in time, and another promontory
would arise upon their site, as humanity piled itself higher and higher
on the precious soil of London.
Mrs. Munt had her own method of interpreting her nieces. She decided
that Margaret was a little hysterical, and was trying to gain time by a
torrent of talk. Feeling very diplomatic, she lamented the fate of Speyer,

and declared that never, never should she be so misguided as to visit it,
and added of her own accord that the principles of restoration were ill
understood in Germany. "The Germans," she said, "are too thorough,
and this is all very well sometimes, but at other times it does not do."
"Exactly," said Margaret; "Germans are too thorough." And her eyes
began to shine.
"Of course I regard you Schlegels as English," said Mrs. Munt
hastily--"English to the backbone."
Margaret leaned forward and stroked her hand.
"And that reminds me--Helen's letter."
"Oh yes, Aunt Juley, I am thinking all right about Helen's letter. I
know--I must go down and see her. I am thinking about her all right. I
am meaning to go down."
"But go with some plan," said Mrs. Munt, admitting into her kindly
voice a note of exasperation. "Margaret, if I may interfere, don't be
taken by surprise. What do you think of the Wilcoxes? Are they our
sort? Are they likely people? Could they appreciate Helen, who is to
my mind a very special sort of person? Do they care about Literature
and Art? That is most important when you come to think of it.
Literature and Art. Most important. How old would the son be? She
says 'younger son.' Would he be in a position to marry? Is he likely to
make Helen happy? Did you gather--"
"I gathered nothing."
They began to talk at once.
"Then in that case--"
"In that