Charles and Tibby met at Ducie Street, where the latter was
staying. Their interview was short and absurd. They had nothing
in common but the English language, and tried by its help to
express what neither of them understood. Charles saw in Helen the
family foe. He had singled her out as the most dangerous of the
Schlegels, and, angry as he was, looked forward to telling his
wife how right he had been. His mind was made up at once; the
girl must be got out of the way before she disgraced them
farther. If occasion offered she might be married to a villain,
or, possibly, to a fool. But this was a concession to morality,
it formed no part of his main scheme. Honest and hearty was
Charles's dislike, and the past spread itself out very clearly
before him; hatred is a skilful compositor. As if they were heads
in a note-book, he ran through all the incidents of the
Schlegels' campaign: the attempt to compromise his brother, his
mother's legacy, his father's marriage, the introduction of the
furniture, the unpacking of the same. He had not yet heard of the
request to sleep at Howards End; that was to be their
master-stroke and the opportunity for his. But he already felt
that Howards End was the objective, and, though he disliked the
house, was determined to defend it.
Tibby, on the other hand, had no opinions. He stood above the
conventions: his sister had a right to do what she thought right.
It is not difficult to stand above the conventions when we leave
no hostages among them; men can always be more unconventional
than women, and a bachelor of independent means need encounter no
difficulties at all. Unlike Charles, Tibby had money enough; his
ancestors had earned it for him, and if he shocked the people in
one set of lodgings he had only to move into another. His was the
leisure without sympathy--an attitude as fatal as the strenuous;
a little cold culture may be raised on it, but no art. His
sisters had seen the family danger, and had never forgotten to
discount the gold islets that raised them from the sea. Tibby
gave all the praise to himself, and so despised the struggling
and the submerged.
Hence the absurdity of the interview; the gulf between them was
economic as well as spiritual. But several facts passed; Charles
pressed for them with an impertinence that the undergraduate
could not withstand. On what date had Helen gone abroad? To whom?
(Charles was anxious to fasten the scandal on Germany.) Then,
changing his tactics, he said roughly: "I suppose you realise
that you are your sister's protector?"
"In what sense?"
"If a man played about with my sister, I'd send a bullet through
him, but perhaps you don't mind."
"I mind very much," protested Tibby.
"Who d'ye suspect, then? Speak out man. One always suspects some
one."
"No one. I don't think so." Involuntarily he blushed. He had
remembered the scene in his Oxford rooms.
"You are hiding something," said Charles. As interviews go, he
got the best of this one. "When you saw her last, did she mention
any one's name? Yes or no!" he thundered, so that Tibby started.
"In my rooms she mentioned some friends, called the Basts."
"Who are the Basts?"
"People--friends of hers at Evie's wedding."
"I don't remember. But, by great Scott, I do! My aunt told me
about some rag-tsag. Was she full of them when you saw her? Is
there a man? Did she speak of the man? Or--look here--have you
had any dealings with him?"
Tibby was silent. Without intending it, he had betrayed his
sister's confidence; he was not enough interested in human life
to see where things will lead to. He had a strong regard for
honesty, and his word, once given, had always been kept up to
now. He was deeply vexed, not only for the harm he had done
Helen, but for the flaw he had discovered in his own equipment.
"I see--you are in his confidence. They met at your rooms. Oh,
what a family, what a family! God help the poor pater--s"
And Tibby found himself alone.
Read next: CHAPTER XL
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