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Night and Day

CHAPTER XXVII
London, in the first days of spring, has buds that open and flowers that suddenly
shake their petals--white, purple, or crimson--in competition with the display in
the garden beds, although these city flowers are merely so many doors flung
wide in Bond Street and the neighborhood, inviting you to look at a picture, or
hear a symphony, or merely crowd and crush yourself among all sorts of vocal,
excitable, brightly colored human beings. But, all the same, it is no mean rival to
the quieter process of vegetable florescence. Whether or not there is a generous
motive at the root, a desire to share and impart, or whether the animation is
purely that of insensate fervor and friction, the effect, while it lasts, certainly
encourages those who are young, and those who are ignorant, to think the world
one great bazaar, with banners fluttering and divans heaped with spoils from
every quarter of the globe for their delight.
As Cassandra Otway went about London provided with shillings that opened
turnstiles, or more often with large white cards that disregarded turnstiles, the city
seemed to her the most lavish and hospitable of hosts. After visiting the National
Gallery, or Hertford House, or hearing Brahms or Beethoven at the Bechstein
Hall, she would come back to find a new person awaiting her, in whose soul were
imbedded some grains of the invaluable substance which she still called reality,
and still believed that she could find. The Hilberys, as the saying is, "knew every
one," and that arrogant claim was certainly upheld by the number of houses
which, within a certain area, lit their lamps at night, opened their doors after 3 p.
m., and admitted the Hilberys to their dining-rooms, say, once a month. An
indefinable freedom and authority of manner, shared by most of the people who
lived in these houses, seemed to indicate that whether it was a question of art,
music, or government, they were well within the gates, and could smile
indulgently at the vast mass of humanity which is forced to wait and struggle, and
pay for entrance with common coin at the door. The gates opened instantly to
admit Cassandra. She was naturally critical of what went on inside, and inclined
to quote what Henry would have said; but she often succeeded in contradicting
Henry, in his absence, and invariably paid her partner at dinner, or the kind old
lady who remembered her grandmother, the compliment of believing that there
was meaning in what they said. For the sake of the light in her eager eyes, much
crudity of expression and some untidiness of person were forgiven her. It was
generally felt that, given a year or two of experience, introduced to good
dressmakers, and preserved from bad influences, she would be an acquisition.
Those elderly ladies, who sit on the edge of ballrooms sampling the stuff of
humanity between finger and thumb and breathing so evenly that the necklaces,
which rise and fall upon their breasts, seem to represent some elemental force,
such as the waves upon the ocean of humanity, concluded, a little smilingly, that
she would do. They meant that she would in all probability marry some young
man whose mother they respected.
William Rodney was fertile in suggestions. He knew of little galleries, and select
concerts, and private performances, and somehow made time to meet Katharine
 
 
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