She was not able to follow up her observations, however, or to cometo any conclusion, for by one of those accidents which are liableto happen at sea, the whole course of their lives was now putout of order.

　　Even at tea the floor rose beneath their feet and pitched toolow again, and at dinner the ship seemed to groan and strainas though a lash were descending. She who had been a broad-backeddray-horse, upon whose hind-quarters pierrots might waltz,became a colt in a field. The plates slanted away from the knives,and Mrs. Dalloway's face blanched for a second as she helped herselfand saw the potatoes roll this way and that. Willoughby, of course,extolled the virtues of his ship, and quoted what had been saidof her by experts and distinguished passengers, for he loved hisown possessions. Still, dinner was uneasy, and directly the ladieswere alone Clarissa owned that she would be better off in bed,and went, smiling bravely.

　　Next morning the storm was on them, and no politeness could ignore it.

　　Mrs. Dalloway stayed in her room. Richard faced three meals,eating valiantly at each; but at the third, certain glazed asparagusswimming in oil finally conquered him.

　　"That beats me," he said, and withdrew.

　　"Now we are alone once more," remarked William Pepper, looking roundthe table; but no one was ready to engage him in talk, and the mealended in silence.

　　On the following day they met--but as flying leaves meet in the air.

　　Sick they were not; but the wind propelled them hastily into rooms,violently downstairs. They passed each other gasping on deck; they shoutedacross tables. They wore fur coats; and Helen was never seen withouta bandanna on her head. For comfort they retreated to their cabins,where with tightly wedged feet they let the ship bounce and tumble.

　　Their sensations were the sensations of potatoes in a sack on agalloping horse. The world outside was merely a violent grey tumult.

　　For two days they had a perfect rest from their old emotions.

　　Rachel had just enough consciousness to suppose herself a donkey onthe summit of a moor in a hail-storm, with its coat blown into furrows;then she became a wizened tree, perpetually driven back by the saltAtlantic gale.

　　Helen, on the other hand, staggered to Mrs. Dalloway's door, knocked,could not be heard for the slamming of doors and the batteringof wind, and entered.

　　There were basins, of course. Mrs. Dalloway lay half-raised ona pillow, and did not open her eyes. Then she murmured, "Oh, Dick,is that you?"Helen shouted--for she was thrown against the washstand--"Howare you?"Clarissa opened one eye. It gave her an incredibly dissipated appearance.

　　"Awful!" she gasped. Her lips were white inside.

　　Planting her feet wide, Helen contrived to pour champagne intoa tumbler with a tooth-brush in it.

　　"Champagne," she said.

　　"There's a tooth-brush in it," murmured Clarissa, and smiled;it might have been the contortion of one weeping. She drank.

　　"Disgusting," she whispered, indicating the basins. Relics ofhumour still played over her face like moonshine.

　　"Want more?" Helen shouted. Speech was again beyond Clarissa's reach.

　　The wind laid the ship shivering on her side. Pale agonies crossedMrs. Dalloway in waves. When the curtains flapped, grey lightspuffed across her. Between the spasms of the storm, Helen madethe curtain fast, shook the pillows, stretched the bed-clothes,and smoothed the hot nostrils and forehead with cold scent.

　　"You _are_ good!" Clarissa gasped. "Horrid mess!"She was trying to apologise for white underclothes fallen andscattered on the floor. For one second she opened a single eye,and saw that the room was tidy.

　　"That's nice," she gasped.

　　Helen left her; far, far away she knew that she felt a kind of likingfor Mrs. Dalloway. She could not help respecting her spirit andher desire, even in the throes of sickness, for a tidy bedroom.

　　Her petticoats, however, rose above her knees.

　　Quite suddenly the storm relaxed its grasp. It happened at tea;the expected paroxysm of the blast gave out just as it reachedits climax and dwindled away, and the ship instead of takingthe usual plunge went steadily. The monotonous order of plungingand rising, roaring and relaxing, was interfered with, and everyone at table looked up and felt something loosen within them.

　　The strain was slackened and human feelings began to peep again,as they do when daylight shows at the end of a tunnel.

　　"Try a turn with me," Ridley called across to Rachel.""Foolish!" cried Helen, but they went stumbling up the ladder.

　　Choked by the wind their spirits rose with a rush, for on the skirtsof all the grey tumult was a misty spot of gold. Instantly the worlddropped into shape; they were no longer atoms flying in the void,but people riding a triumphant ship on the back of the sea.

　　Wind and space were banished; the world floated like an apple in a tub,and the mind of man, which had been unmoored also, once more attacheditself to the old beliefs.

　　Having scrambled twice round the ship and received many sound cuffsfrom the wind, they saw a sailor's face positively shine golden.

　　They looked, and beheld a complete yellow circle of sun; next minute itwas traversed by sailing stands of cloud, and then completely hidden.

　　By breakfast the next morning, however, the sky was swept clean,the waves, although steep, were blue, and after their view of thestrange under-world, inhabited by phantoms, people began to liveamong tea-pots and loaves of bread with greater zest than ever.

　　Richard and Clarissa, however, still remained on the borderland.

　　She did not attempt to sit up; her husband stood on his feet,contemplated his waistcoat and trousers, shook his head, and then laydown again. The inside of his brain was still rising and fallinglike the sea on the stage. At four o'clock he woke from sleep andsaw the sunlight make a vivid angle across the red plush curtainsand the grey tweed trousers. The ordinary world outside slidinto his mind, and by the time he was dressed he was an Englishgentleman again.

　　He stood beside his wife. She pulled him down to her by the lapelof his coat, kissed him, and held him fast for a minute.

　　"Go and get a breath of air, Dick," she said. "You look quite washed out.

　　. . . How nice you smell! . . . And be polite to that woman.

　　She was so kind to me."Thereupon Mrs. Dalloway turned to the cool side of her pillow,terribly flattened but still invincible.

　　Richard found Helen talking to her brother-in-law, over two dishesof yellow cake and smooth bread and butter.

　　"You look very ill!" she exclaimed on seeing him. "Come and havesome tea."He remarked that the hands that moved about the cups were beautiful.

　　"I hear you've been very good to my wife," he said. "She's hadan awful time of it. You came in and fed her with champagne.

　　Were you among the saved yourself?""I? Oh, I haven't been sick for twenty years--sea-sick, I mean.""There are three stages of convalescence, I always say,"broke in the hearty voice of Willoughby. "The milk stage,the bread-and-butter stage, and the roast-beef stage. I shouldsay you were at the bread-and-butter stage." He handed him the plate.

　　"Now, I should advise a hearty tea, then a brisk walk on deck;and by dinner-time you'll be clamouring for beef, eh?" He wentoff laughing, excusing himself on the score of business.

　　"What a splendid fellow he is!" said Richard. "Always keenon something.""Yes," said Helen, "he's always been like that.""This is a great undertaking of his," Richard continued.

　　"It's a business that won't stop with ships, I should say.

　　We shall see him in Parliament, or I'm much mistaken. He's the kindof man we want in Parliament--the man who has done things."But Helen was not much interested in her brother-in-law.

　　"I expect your head's aching, isn't it?" she asked, pouring a fresh cup.

　　"Well, it is," said Richard. "It's humiliating to find what a slaveone is to one's body in this world. D'you know, I can never workwithout a kettle on the hob. As often as not I don't drink tea,but I must feel that I can if I want to.""That's very bad for you," said Helen.

　　"It shortens one's life; but I'm afraid, Mrs. Ambrose, we politiciansmust make up our minds to that at the outset. We've got to burnthe candle at both ends, or--""You've cooked your goose!" said Helen brightly.

　　"We can't make you take us seriously, Mrs. Ambrose," he protested.

　　"May I ask how you've spent your time? Reading--philosophy?" (He sawthe black book.) "Metaphysics and fishing!" he exclaimed. "If I hadto live again I believe I should devote myself to one or the other."He began turning the pages.

　　"'Good, then, is indefinable,'" he read out. "How jolly to think that'sgoing on still! 'So far as I know there is only one ethical writer,Professor Henry Sidgwick, who has clearly recognised and statedthis fact.' That's just the kind of thing we used to talk aboutwhen we were boys. I can remember arguing until five in the morningwith Duffy--now Secretary for India--pacing round and round thosecloisters until we decided it was too late to go to bed, and wewent for a ride instead. Whether we ever came to any conclusion--that's another matter. Still, it's the arguing that counts.

　　It's things like that that stand out in life. Nothing's beenquite so vivid since. It's the philosophers, it's the scholars,"he continued, "they're the people who pass the torch, who keepthe light burning by which we live. Being a politician doesn'tnecessarily blind one to that, Mrs. Ambrose.""No. Why should it?" said Helen. "But can you remember if yourwife takes sugar?"She lifted the tray and went off with it to Mrs. Dalloway.

　　Richard twisted a muffler twice round his throat and struggled upon deck. His body, which had grown white and tender in a dark room,tingled all over in the fresh air. He felt himself a man undoubtedlyin the prime of life. Pride glowed in his eye as he let the windbuffet him and stood firm. With his head slightly lowered hesheered round corners, strode uphill, and met the blast. There wasa collision. For a second he could not see what the body was hehad run into. "Sorry." "Sorry." It was Rachel who apologised.

　　They both laughed, too much blown about to speak. She drove openthe door of her room and stepped into its calm. In order to speakto her, it was necessary that Richard should follow. They stoodin a whirlpool of wind; papers began flying round in circles,the door crashed to, and they tumbled, laughing, into chairs.

　　Richard sat upon Bach.

　　"My word! What a tempest!" he exclaimed.

　　"Fine, isn't it?" said Rachel. Certainly the struggle and windhad given her a decision she lacked; red was in her cheeks,and her hair was down.

　　"Oh, what fun!" he cried. "What am I sitting on? Is this your room?

　　How jolly!" "There--sit there," she commanded. Cowper slidonce more.

　　"How jolly to meet again," said Richard. "It seems an age.

　　_Cowper's_ _Letters>? . . . Bach? . . . _Wuthering_ _Heights_?

　　. . . Is this where you meditate on the world, and then comeout and pose poor politicians with questions? In the intervalsof sea-sickness I've thought a lot of our talk. I assure you,you made me think.""I made you think! But why?""What solitary icebergs we are, Miss Vinrace! How little wecan communicate! There are lots of things I should like to tellyou about--to hear your opinion of. Have you ever read Burke?""Burke?" she repeated. "Who was Burke?""No? Well, then I shall make a point of sending you a copy.

　　_The_ _Speech_ _on_ _the_ _French_ _Revolution_--_The__American_ _Rebellion_? Which shall it be, I wonder?" He notedsomething in his pocket-book. "And then you must write and tell mewhat you think of it. This reticence--this isolation--that's what'sthe matter with modern life! Now, tell me about yourself.

　　What are your interests and occupations? I should imagine that youwere a person with very strong interests. Of course you are!

　　Good God! When I think of the age we live in, with its opportunitiesand possibilities, the mass of things to be done and enjoyed--why haven't we ten lives instead of one? But about yourself?""You see, I'm a woman," said Rachel.

　　"I know--I know," said Richard, throwing his head back, and drawinghis fingers across his eyes.

　　"How strange to be a woman! A young and beautiful woman,"he continued sententiously, "has the whole world at her feet.

　　That's true, Miss Vinrace. You have an inestimable power--for goodor for evil. What couldn't you do--" he broke off.

　　"What?" asked Rachel.

　　"You have beauty," he said. The ship lurched. Rachel fellslightly forward. Richard took her in his arms and kissed her.

　　Holding her tight, he kissed her passionately, so that she feltthe hardness of his body and the roughness of his cheek printedupon hers. She fell back in her chair, with tremendous beatsof the heart, each of which sent black waves across her eyes.

　　He clasped his forehead in his hands.

　　"You tempt me," he said. The tone of his voice was terrifying.

　　He seemed choked in fright. They were both trembling.

　　Rachel stood up and went. Her head was cold, her knees shaking,and the physical pain of the emotion was so great that she couldonly keep herself moving above the great leaps of her heart.

　　She leant upon the rail of the ship, and gradually ceased to feel,for a chill of body and mind crept over her. Far out between the waveslittle black and white sea-birds were riding. Rising and fallingwith smooth and graceful movements in the hollows of the waves theyseemed singularly detached and unconcerned.

　　"You're peaceful," she said. She became peaceful too, at the same timepossessed with a strange exultation. Life seemed to hold infinitepossibilities she had never guessed at. She leant upon the railand looked over the troubled grey waters, where the sunlight wasfitfully scattered upon the crests of the waves, until she was coldand absolutely calm again. Nevertheless something wonderful had happened.

　　At dinner, however, she did not feel exalted, but merely uncomfortable,as if she and Richard had seen something together which is hiddenin ordinary life, so that they did not like to look at each other.

　　Richard slid his eyes over her uneasily once, and never lookedat her again. Formal platitudes were manufactured with effort,but Willoughby was kindled.

　　"Beef for Mr. Dalloway!" he shouted. "Come now--after that walkyou're at the beef stage, Dalloway!"Wonderful masculine stories followed about Bright and Disraeliand coalition governments, wonderful stories which made the peopleat the dinner-table seem featureless and small. After dinner,sitting alone with Rachel under the great swinging lamp, Helen wasstruck by her pallor. It once more occurred to her that therewas something strange in the girl's behaviour.

　　"You look tired. Are you tired?" she asked.

　　"Not tired," said Rachel. "Oh, yes, I suppose I am tired."Helen advised bed, and she went, not seeing Richard again.

　　She must have been very tired for she fell asleep at once,but after an hour or two of dreamless sleep, she dreamt. She dreamtthat she was walking down a long tunnel, which grew so narrowby degrees that she could touch the damp bricks on either side.

　　At length the tunnel opened and became a vault; she foundherself trapped in it, bricks meeting her wherever she turned,alone with a little deformed man who squatted on the floor gibbering,with long nails. His face was pitted and like the face of an animal.

　　The wall behind him oozed with damp, which collected into dropsand slid down. Still and cold as death she lay, not daring to move,until she broke the agony by tossing herself across the bed,and woke crying "Oh!"Light showed her the familiar things: her clothes, fallen offthe chair; the water jug gleaming white; but the horror did not goat once. She felt herself pursued, so that she got up and actuallylocked her door. A voice moaned for her; eyes desired her.

　　All night long barbarian men harassed the ship; they came scufflingdown the passages, and stopped to snuffle at her door. She couldnot sleep again.