"Love G.o.d and you"ll be happy. Love G.o.d and you"ll be happy," she said.
Her eyes pointed at you. They looked wise and solemn and excited.
A wide flat piece of counterpane was left over from Aunt Charlotte. Mary climbed up and sat in it with her back against the foot-rail and looked at her. Looking at Aunt Charlotte made you think of being born.
"Aunt Charlotte, do _you_ know what being born is?"
Aunt Charlotte looked up under her eyebrows, and hid another sheet of paper. "What"s put that in your head all of a sudden?"
"It"s because of my babies. Catty says I couldn"t have thirteen all under three years old. But I could, couldn"t I?"
"I"m afraid I don"t think you could," Aunt Charlotte said.
"Why not? Catty _won"t_ say why."
Aunt Charlotte shook her head, but she was smiling and looking wiser and more solemn than ever. "You mustn"t ask too many questions," she said.
"But you haven"t told me what being born is. I know it"s got something to do with the Virgin Mary."
Aunt Charlotte said, "Sh-sh-sh! You mustn"t say that. Nice little girls don"t think about those things."
Her tilted eyes had turned down and her mouth had stopped smiling. So you knew that being born was not frightening. It had something to do with the things you didn"t talk about.
And ye--how could it? There was the Virgin Mary.
"Aunt Charlotte, don"t you _wish_ you had a baby?"
Aunt Charlotte looked frightened, suddenly, and began to cry.
"You mustn"t say it, Mary, you mustn"t say it. Don"t tell them you said it. They"ll think I"ve been talking about the babies. The little babies.
Don"t tell them. Promise me you won"t tell."
II.
"Aunt Lavvy--I wish I knew what you thought about Jehovah?"
When Aunt Lavvy stayed with you Mamma made you promise not to ask her about her opinions. But sometimes you forgot. Aunt Lavvy looked more than ever as if she was by herself in a quiet empty room, thinking of something that wasn"t there. You couldn"t help feeling that she knew things. Mamma said she had always been the clever one, just as Aunt Charlotte had always been the queer one; but Aunt Bella said she was no better than an unbeliever, because she was a Unitarian at heart.
"Why Jehovah in particular?" Aunt Lavvy was like Uncle Victor; she listened politely when you talked to her, as if you were saying something interesting.
"Because he"s the one you"ve got to believe in. Do you really think he is so very good?"
"I don"t think anything. I don"t know anything, except that G.o.d is love."
"Jehovah wasn"t."
"Jehovah--" Aunt Lavvy stopped herself. "I mustn"t talk to you about it--because I promised your mother I wouldn"t."
It was very queer. Aunt Lavvy"s opinions had something to do with religion, yet Mamma said you mustn"t talk about them.
"I promised, too. I shall have to confess and ask her to forgive me."
"Then," said Aunt Lavvy, "be sure you tell her that I didn"t talk to you.
Promise me you"ll tell her."
That was what Aunt Charlotte had said. Talking about religion was like talking about being born.
XI
I.
n.o.body has any innate ideas. Children and savages and idiots haven"t any, so grown-up people can"t have, Mr. Locke says.
But how did he know? You might have them and forget about them, and only remember again after you were grown up.
She sat up in the drawing-room till nine o"clock now, because she was eleven years old. She had taken the doll"s clothes out of the old wooden box and filled it with books: the Bible, Milton, and Pope"s Homer, the Greek Accidence, and _Plutarch"s Lives_, and the Comedies from Papa"s ill.u.s.trated Shakespeare in seven volumes, which he never read, and two volumes of _Pepys" Diary_, and Locke _On the Human Understanding_. She wished the Bible had been bound in pink calf like Pepys instead of the shiny black leather that made you think of wet goloshes. Then it would have looked new and exciting like the other books.
She sat on a footstool with her box beside her in the corner behind Mamma"s chair. She had to hide there because Mamma didn"t believe you really liked reading. She thought you were only shamming and showing off.
Sometimes Mr. and Mrs. Farmer would come in, and Mr. Farmer would play chess with Papa while Mrs. Farmer talked to Mamma about how troublesome and independent the tradespeople were, and how hard it was to get servants and to keep them. Mamma listened to Mrs. Farmer as if she were saying something wonderful and exciting. Sometimes it would be the Proparts; or Mr. Batty would come in alone. And sometimes they would all come together with the aunts and uncles, and there would be a party.
Mary always hoped that Uncle Victor would notice her and say, "Mary is reading Locke _On the Human Understanding_," or that Mr. Propart would come and turn over the books and make some interesting remark. But they never did.
At half-past eight Catty would bring in the tea-tray; the white and grey and gold tea-cups would be set out round the bulging silver tea-pot that lifted up its spout with a foolish, pompous expression, like a hen. Mamma would move about the table in her mauve silk gown, and there would be a scent of cream and strong tea. Every now and then the shimmering silk and the rich scent would come between her and the grey, tight-pressed, difficult page.
""The senses at first let in particular ideas and furnish the yet empty cabinet: and the mind growing by degrees familiar with some of them, they are lodged in the memory and names got to them."
"Then how--Then how?--"
The thought she thought was coming wouldn"t come, and Mamma was telling her to get up and hand round the bread and b.u.t.ter.
II.
"Mr. Ponsonby, do you remember your innate ideas?"
"My _how_ much?" said Mr. Ponsonby.
"The ideas you had before you were born?"
Mr. Ponsonby said, "Before I was born? Well--" He really seemed to be considering it.
Mamma"s chair, pushed further along the hearthrug, had driven her back and back, till the box was hidden behind the curtain.
Mr. Ponsonby was Mark"s friend. Mark was at the Royal Military Academy at Woolwich now. Every Sat.u.r.day Mr. Ponsonby came home with Mark and stayed till Sunday evening. You knew that sooner or later he would find you out behind Mamma"s chair.