Thyrza. George Gissing

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СКАЧАТЬ it was ugly. Three steps led up to the narrow entrance, which, as well as the windows on the ground floor, was surrounded with a wholly inappropriate pointed arch. Iron railings ran along the two sides which abutted upon pavements, and by the door was a tall iron support for a lamp; probably it had never been put to its use. There was only one upper storey, and the roof was crowned with a small stack of hideous metal chimneys.

      'We must go round to the caretaker's house,' said Egremont, when they had cast their eyes over the face of the edifice.

      The way was by a narrow passage between the school itself and the whitewashed side of an adjacent house; this led them into a small paved yard, upon which looked the windows of the caretaker's dwelling, which was the rear portion of the school building. A knock at the door brought a very dirty and very asthmatical old woman, who appeared to resent their visit. When Egremont expressed his desire to go over the school, she muttered querulously what was understood to be an invitation to enter. Followed by Gilbert, Egremont was conducted along a pitch-dark passage.

      'Mind the steps!' snarled their guide.

      Egremont had already stumbled over an ascent of two when the warning was given, but at the same moment a door was thrown open, giving a view of the main schoolroom.

      ''Tain't swep' out yet,' remarked the old woman. 'I couldn't tell as nobody was a-comin'. You can complain to them if you like; I'm used to it from all sorts, an' 'taint for much longer, praise goodness! Though there's nothink before me but the parish when the time does come.'

      Egremont glanced at the strange creature in surprise, but it seemed better to say nothing. He began to speak of the aspects of the room with his companion.

      The place was cheerless beyond description. In a large grate the last embers of a fire were darkening; the air was chill, and, looking up to the ceiling, one saw floating scraps of mist which had somehow come in from the street. The lower half of each window was guarded with lattice-work of thin wire; the windows themselves were grimy, and would have made it dusk within even on a clear day. The whitewash of the ceiling was dark and much cracked. Benches and desks covered half the floor. There were black-boards and other mechanical appliances for teaching, and on the walls hung maps and diagrams.

      'The walls seem quite dry,' observed Walter, 'which is a great point.'

      They laid their palms against the plaster. The old woman stood with one hand pressed against her bosom, the other behind her back; her head was bent; she seemed to pay no kind of attention to what was said.

      'There's room here for some thousands of volumes,' Egremont said, moving to one of the windows. 'It will serve tolerably as a reading-room, too. Nothing like as large as it ought to be, of course, but we must be content to feel our way to better things.'

      Gilbert nodded. In spite of his companion's resolute cheerfulness, he felt a distressing dejection creep upon him as he stood in the cold, darkening room. He could not feel the interest and hope which hitherto this project had inspired him with. The figure of the old caretaker impressed him painfully. For any movement she made she might have been asleep; the regular sound of her heavy breathing was quite audible, and vapour rose from her lips upon the air.

      'What do you think?' Egremont asked, when Grail remained mute.

      'I should think it will do very well. What is there upstairs?'

      'Two class-rooms. We should use those for lectures. Let us go up.'

      The old woman walked before them to a door opposite that by which they had entered. They found themselves in a small vestibule, out of which, on one hand, a door led into a cloak-room, while on the other ascended a flight of stone stairs. There was nothing noticeable in the rooms above; the windows here were also very dirty, and mist floated below the ceilings.

      The caretaker had remained below, contenting herself with indicating the way.

      'You seem disappointed,' Walter said. He himself had ceased to talk, he felt cold and uncomfortable.

      'No, no, indeed I'm not,' Grail hastened to reply. 'I think it is as good a place as you could have found.'

      'We don't see it under very inspiriting conditions. Fire and light and comfortable furniture would make a wonderful difference, even on a day like this.'

      Gilbert reproached himself for taking so coldly his friend's generous zeal.

      'And books still more,' he replied, 'The room below will be a grand sight with shelves all round the walls.'

      'Well, I must make further inquiries, but I think the place will suit us.'

      They descended, their footsteps ringing on the stone and echoing up to the roof. The old woman still stood at the foot of the stairs, her head bent, the hand against her side.

      'Will you go out here,' she asked, 'or do you want to see anythink else?'

      'I should like to see the back part again,' Egremont replied.

      She led them across the schoolroom, through the dark passage, and into a small room which had the distant semblance of a parlour. Here she lit a lamp; then, without speaking, guided them over the house, of which she appeared to be the only inhabitant. There were seven rooms; only three of them contained any furniture. Then they all returned to the comfortless parlour.

      'Your chest is bad,' Egremont remarked, looking curiously at the woman.

      'Yes, I dessay it is,' was the ungracious reply.

      'Well, I don't think we need trouble you any more at present, but I shall probably have to come again in a day or two.'

      'I dessay you'll find me here.'

      'And feeling better, I hope. The weather gives you much trouble, no doubt.'

      He held half a crown to her. She regarded it, clasped it in the hand which was against her bosom, and at length dropped a curtsy, though without speaking.

      'What a poor crabbed old creature!' Egremont exclaimed, as they walked away. 'I should feel relieved if I knew that she went off at once to the warmth of the public-house opposite.'

      'Yes, she hasn't a very cheerful home.'

      'Oh, but it can be made a very different house. It has fallen into such neglect. Wait till spring sunshine and the paperhangers invade the place.'

      They issued into a main street, and after a little further talk, shook hands and parted.

      That night, and through the Sunday that followed, Gilbert continued to suffer even more than his wont from mental dreariness; Mrs. Grail was unable to draw him into conversation.

      About four o'clock she said:

      'May I ask Lydia and Thyrza to come and have tea with us, Gilbert?'

      He looked up absently.

      'But they were here last Sunday.'

      'Yes, my dear, but I think they like to come, and I'm sure I like to have them.'

      'Let us leave it till next Sunday, mother. You don't mind? I feel I must be alone to-night.'

      It was a most unusual thing for Gilbert to offer opposition when his mother had expressed a desire for anything. Mrs. Grail at once said:

      'I dare say you're right, my dear. Next Sunday 'll be better.'

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