The tunnel : $b Pilgrimage, Volume 4 — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The tunnel : $b Pilgrimage, Volume 4
John Stuart Mill · en
St. Pancras bells were clamouring in the room; rapid scales, beginning
at the top, coming with a loud full thump on to the fourth note and
finishing with a rush to the lowest which was hardly touched before the
top note hung again in the air, sounding outdoors clean and clear while
all the other notes still jangled together in her room. Nothing had
changed. The night was like a moment added to the day; like years going
backwards to the beginning; and in the brilliant sunshine the unchanging
things began again, perfectly new. She leaped out of bed into the
clamorous stillness and stood in the window rolling up the warm hair
that felt like a shawl round her shoulders. A cup of tea and then the
'bus to Harriett's. A 'bus somewhere just out there beyond the morning
stillness of the street. What an _adventure_ to go out and take a 'bus
without having to face anybody. They were all out there, away somewhere,
the very thought and sight of them, disapproving and deploring her
surroundings. She listened. There they were. There were their very
voices, coming plaintive and reproachful with a held-in indignation,
intonations that she knew inside and out, coming on bells from somewhere
beyond the squares--another church. She withdrew the coloured cover and
set her spirit lamp on the inkstained table. Strong bright light was
standing outside the window. The clamour of the bells had ceased. From
far away down in the street a loud hoarse voice came thinly up.
Referee--Lloyd's--Sunday Times--People--_pypa_.... A front door opened
with a loud crackle of paint. The voice dropped to speaking tones that
echoed clearly down the street and came up clear and soft and
confidential. Referee? Lloyd's? The door closed with a large firm wooden
sound and the harsh voice went on down the street.
St. Pancras bells burst forth again. Faintly interwoven with their
bright headlong scale were the clear sweet delicate contralto of the
more distant bells playing very swiftly and reproachfully a five finger
exercise in a minor key. That must be a very high-Anglican church; with
light coming through painted windows on to carvings and decorations.
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