Of Human Bondage Read Online Free PDF Page B

who he was. But Miss Graves had
observed the rash act and was able to tell Mrs. Carey that the
stranger came from London, was married and had children. During the
drive home Mrs. Carey passed the information on, and the Vicar made
up his mind to call on him and ask for a subscription to the
Additional Curates Society. Mr. Carey asked if Philip had behaved
properly; and Mrs. Carey remarked that Mrs. Wigram had a new
mantle, Mr. Cox was not in church, and somebody thought that Miss
Phillips was engaged. When they reached the vicarage they all felt
that they deserved a substantial dinner.
      When this was over Mrs. Carey went to her room to
rest, and Mr. Carey lay down on the sofa in the drawing-room for
forty winks.
      They had tea at five, and the Vicar ate an egg to
support himself for evensong. Mrs. Carey did not go to this so that
Mary Ann might, but she read the service through and the hymns. Mr.
Carey walked to church in the evening, and Philip limped along by
his side. The walk through the darkness along the country road
strangely impressed him, and the church with all its lights in the
distance, coming gradually nearer, seemed very friendly. At first
he was shy with his uncle, but little by little grew used to him,
and he would slip his hand in his uncle's and walk more easily for
the feeling of protection.
      They had supper when they got home. Mr. Carey's
slippers were waiting for him on a footstool in front of the fire
and by their side Philip's, one the shoe of a small boy, the other
misshapen and odd. He was dreadfully tired when he went up to bed,
and he did not resist when Mary Ann undressed him. She kissed him
after she tucked him up, and he began to love her.

VIII
      Philip had led always the solitary life of an only
child, and his loneliness at the vicarage was no greater than it
had been when his mother lived. He made friends with Mary Ann. She
was a chubby little person of thirty-five, the daughter of a
fisherman, and had come to the vicarage at eighteen; it was her
first place and she had no intention of leaving it; but she held a
possible marriage as a rod over the timid heads of her master and
mistress. Her father and mother lived in a little house off Harbour
Street, and she went to see them on her evenings out. Her stories
of the sea touched Philip's imagination, and the narrow alleys
round the harbour grew rich with the romance which his young fancy
lent them. One evening he asked whether he might go home with her;
but his aunt was afraid that he might catch something, and his
uncle said that evil communications corrupted good manners. He
disliked the fisher folk, who were rough, uncouth, and went to
chapel. But Philip was more comfortable in the kitchen than in the
dining-room, and, whenever he could, he took his toys and played
there. His aunt was not sorry. She did not like disorder, and
though she recognised that boys must be expected to be untidy she
preferred that he should make a mess in the kitchen. If he fidgeted
his uncle was apt to grow restless and say it was high time he went
to school. Mrs. Carey thought Philip very young for this, and her
heart went out to the motherless child; but her attempts to gain
his affection were awkward, and the boy, feeling shy, received her
demonstrations with so much sullenness that she was mortified.
Sometimes she heard his shrill voice raised in laughter in the
kitchen, but when she went in, he grew suddenly silent, and he
flushed darkly when Mary Ann explained the joke. Mrs. Carey could
not see anything amusing in what she heard, and she smiled with
constraint.
      "He seems happier with Mary Ann than with us,
William," she said, when she returned to her sewing.
      "One can see he's been very badly brought up. He
wants licking into shape."
      On the second Sunday after Philip arrived an unlucky
incident occurred. Mr. Carey had retired as usual after dinner for
a little snooze in the drawing-room, but he was in an irritable
mood and could not