It was eleven o’clock, the clock was just striking, when he began to speak about his wife. She had been his first thought in Brown’s room. He had not brought himself to mention her since.
‘She will be waiting up for me,’ he said. ‘I shall hurt her beyond bearing when I see her. I’ve tried hard all my life not to hurt her. Now I can’t see a way out.’
‘Won’t she guess there’s something wrong?’
‘That won’t make it easier — when she hears it’s true.’
‘She’ll bear it,’ I said, ‘because it comes from you.’
‘That makes it a hundred times worse.’
‘For you. But not for her.’
‘If I brought bad news from outside,’ said Jago, ‘I should not be afraid for a single instant. She is very brave in every way in which a human being can be brave. If this place shut down and we’d lost every penny, I’d tell her the news and she’d start getting ready to work the next minute. But this is horribly different.’
I did not question him.
‘Don’t you see,’ he cried, ‘that she will accuse herself?’
He added quietly: ‘She will be certain to think it is her fault.’
‘We must tell her it isn’t,’ I said. ‘Roy and I must explain exactly what has happened.’
‘She will never believe you. She’ll never believe any of you.’ He paused. ‘I’m very much afraid that she will not believe me.’
‘Is it no use our trying?’
‘I’m afraid that nothing will reassure her,’ said Jago. ‘I think she trusts me — yet she can’t believe me when it concerns herself. I’ve not brought her peace of mind. If she’d married another man, she might have found it. I don’t know. I hoped I could make her happy, and I haven’t done.’
‘I know what you feel,’ I said.
‘So you do,’ said Jago — a smile, evanescent but brotherly, shone for an instant through his pain.
‘I don’t believe anyone else could have made her as happy.’
‘I’ve seen her in the worst hours,’ said Jago. He went on in despair: ‘Yet I’ve never done anything to hurt her until now. If I’d been the cruellest of men, I couldn’t have found a way to hurt as much as this. I cannot bear to see her face when I tell her. She will be utterly beside herself — and I shall be no good to her.’
With his chin in his hands, he looked into the fire. For many minutes he was silent. At last he spoke as though there had been no pause.
‘I think I could endure it all,’ he said, ‘if it were not for her.’
45: The Election
On the morning of the election, I woke while it was still dark. There were knocks at the great gate, the rattle of the door opening, the clink of keys, voices in the court; it was six o’clock, and the servants were coming in to work. Although I had been late to bed, telling Roy the final news, I could not get to sleep again. The court quietened, and the first light of the winter dawn crept round the edges of the blind. As the grey morning twilight became visible in the dark room, I lay awake as I had done in other troubles and heard the chimes ring out over the town with indifferent cheerfulness. I was full of worry, though there was nothing left to worry about.
The light increased; there were footsteps, not only servants’, passing through the court; I recognized Chrystal’s quick and athletic tread. Why was he in college so early? It was a solace when Bidwell tiptoed in. After his morning greeting, he said: ‘So the great old day has arrived at last, sir.’
‘Yes,’ I said.
He stood beside the bed with his deferential roguish smile.
‘I know it’s wrong of us to talk among ourselves, sir, but we’ve had a good many words about who is to be the next Master.’
‘Have you?’
‘They’re two very nice gentlemen,’ said Bidwell. ‘A very popular gentleman Dr Jago is. I shouldn’t say there was a servant in the college who had ever heard a word against him.’ He was watching me with sharp eyes out of his composed, deliberately bland and guileless face.
‘Of course,’ he said when I did not reply, ‘Dr Crawford is a very popular gentleman too.’ He hurried a little, determined not to be on the wrong side. ‘Between ourselves, sir, I should say they were equally popular. We shall drink their health all right, whoever you put in.’
I got up and shaved and put on my darkest suit. It was curious, I thought, how strongly ritual held one, even though one was not given to it. Out of the window, the court looked sombre in the bleak morning, and one of the last leaves of autumn had drifted on to the sill. Bidwell had switched on the light in my sitting-room, and for once the fire was blazing strongly in time for breakfast, though the air still struck cold.
I ate some breakfast without much appetite and read the morning paper: the news from the Spanish war seemed a little better. Roy ran up the stairs and walked about the room for a few moments.
‘Hurry up, old boy,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t miss the show.’
He was dressed with more than his usual elegance, and was wearing a black silk tie. When I asked him why, he said it was a sign of loss. He was less disturbed, more excited and far gayer than I was. He told me that he had met Chrystal in the court, and commiserated with him for being cursed with this temperamental indecision.
‘“It must be a grave handicap,” I said.’ Roy’s face became impassive. ‘“It must make active life an impossible strain,” I said.’
I grinned. ‘How did he take it?’
‘He looked rather puzzled.’
‘It wasn’t very wise.’
‘Just so,’ said Roy. ‘But it was remarkably pleasing.’
He left to send a telegram before he went into chapeclass="underline" he was off to Italy next day.
I stood by the window, and set my watch by the clock across the court. It was just ten minutes to ten. The chapel door stood open, and the head porter, his top hat gleaming in the grey morning, was waiting to give the signal for the bell to peal. But he had not done so when, through the great gate, appeared old Gay. He was wearing mortar board and gown, as he always did when he came to college; he was wrapped up in a new, heavy coat and padded thick with scarves; his beard looked as though it had been cut that morning. Step by step, foot and a half by foot and a half, he progressed towards the chapel. Two under porters walked behind him; I thought he must have commanded them, for they seemed mystified and had nothing to do. Before he was halfway round the court, the bell began to ring. At the first sound, Gay looked up at the tower and gave an approving and olympian nod.
As the old man drew near, Brown emerged from the chapel door. His face glowed pink, and I guessed that he had been bustling about seeing that all was in order. Gay beckoned him, and he went along the path. Before they met, Gay called out a resounding good morning that I could hear even across the court and through my windows; when they came close enough, Gay enthusiastically shook hands.
At that moment, Chrystal and Despard-Smith were approaching from the second court, and Winslow came through the gate. The bell rang out insistently. It was time for me to go.
When I went into the chapel there was complete silence, though most of the college were already sitting there. A long table had been placed in the nave; it was covered with a thick rich crimson tablecloth I had never seen before; and there, with Gay at the head, Pilbrow on his right hand, Despard-Smith on his left, the others in order down its length, the fellows sat. The bell clanged outside: in each pause between the peals, there was complete silence. The chapel was solemn to some by faith; but others, who did not believe, who knew what the result of this morning must be, to whom it was just a form, were nevertheless gripped by the ritual magic.