that dinner party at Mrs. Benson's, and a play
or two, and a problematical hall. This was all that the "vortex" meant
about which her mother had laughed; she had not any idea at that time
that the vortex would mean Dick Cavendish. But now that she fully
understood what it meant, and now that it was all over, and her agitated
little bark had come out of it, and had got upon the smooth calm waters
again, there had come to Chatty a very different conception both of the
present and the past. All the old quiet routine of existence seemed to
her now a preface to that moment of real life. She had been working up
to it vaguely without knowing it. And now it had ended, and this was the
Afterwards. She had come back--after. These words had to her an absolute
meaning. Perhaps it was want of imagination which made it so impossible
for her to carry forward her thoughts to any possible repetition, any
sequel of what had been; or perhaps some communication, unspoken,
unintended, from the mind of Cavendish had affected hers and given a
certainty of conclusion, of the impossibility of further development.
However that might be, her mind was entirely made up on this subject.
She had lived (for three weeks), and it was over. And now existence was
all Afterwards. She found scarcely any time for her habitual occupations
while she was in London, but now there would be time for everything.
Afterwards is long, when one is only twenty-four, and it requires a
great deal of muslin work and benevolence to fill it up in a way that
will be satisfactory to the soul; but still, to ladies in the country it
is a very well known state, and has to be faced, and lived through all
the same. To a great many people life is all afternoon, though not in
the sense imagined by the poet: not the lotus-eating drowsiness and
content, but a course of little hours that lead to nothing, that have
no particular motive except that mild duty which means doing enough
trimming for your new set of petticoats and carrying a pudding or a
little port wine to the poor girl who is in a consumption in the lane
behind your house. This was the Afterwards of Chatty's time, and she
settled down to it, knowing it to be the course of nature. Nowadays,
matters have improved: there is always lawn tennis and often ambulance
lectures, and far more active parish work. But even in those passive
days it could be supported, and Chatty made up her mind to it with a
great, but silent courage. But