Ihardenedmyheart，orIcouldnothavegone。ForatthelastitcametoMarionthatshewaspartingfrommeforever。Thatoverboreallotherthings，hadturnedourlasthourtoanguish。
Sheforgotforatimetheprospectofmovingintoanewhouse，sheforgottheoutrageonherproprietorshipandpride。Forthefirsttimeinherlifeshereallyshowedstrongemotionsinregardtome，forthefirsttime，perhaps，theyreallycametoher。Shebegantoweepslow，reluctanttears。Icameintoherroom，andfoundherasprawlonthebed，weeping。
“Ididn’tknow。”shecried。“Oh！Ididn’tunderstand！”
“I’vebeenafool。Allmylifeisawreck！
“Ishallbealone！。MUTNEY！Mutney，don’tleaveme！Oh！
Mutney！Ididn’tunderstand。”
Ihadtohardenmyheartindeed，foritseemedtomeatmomentsinthoselasthourstogetherthatatlast，toolate，thelonged-forthinghadhappenedandMarionhadcomealive。A
new-bornhungerformelithereyes。
“Don’tleaveme！”shesaid，“don’tleaveme！”Sheclungtome；
shekissedmewithtear-saltlips。
Iwaspromisednowandpledged，andIhardenedmyheartagainstthisimpossibledawn。Yetitseemstomethatthereweremomentswhenitneededbutacry，butonewordtohaveunitedusagainforallourlives。Couldwehaveunitedagain？Wouldthatpassagehaveenlightenedusforeverorshouldwehavefallenbackinaweekorsointotheoldestrangement，theoldtemperamentalopposition？
Ofthatthereisnownotelling。Ourownresolvecarriedusonourpredestinedway。Webehavedmoreandmorelikeseparatinglovers，partinginexorably，butallthepreparationswehadsetgoingworkedonlikeamachine，andwemadenoattempttostopthem。Mytrunksandboxeswenttothestation。IpackedmybagwithMarionstandingbeforeme。Wewerelikechildrenwhohadhurteachotherhorriblyinsheerstupidity，whodidn’tknownowhowtoremedyit。Webelongedtoeachotherimmensely——immensely。Thecabcametothelittleirongate。
“Good-bye！”Isaid。
“Good-bye。”
Foramomentweheldoneanotherineachother’sarmsandkissed——incrediblywithoutmalice。Weheardourlittleservantinthepassagegoingtoopenthedoor。Forthelasttimewepressedourselvestooneanother。Wewerenotloversnorenemies，buttwohumansoulsinafrankcommunityofpain。I
toremyselffromher。
“Goaway。”Isaidtotheservant，seeingthatMarionhadfollowedmedown。
IfeltherstandingbehindmeasIspoketothecabman。
Igotintothecab，resolutelynotlookingback，andthenasitstartedjumpedup，cranedoutandlookedatthedoor。
Itwaswideopen，butshehaddisappeared。
Iwonder——Isupposesheranupstairs。
SoIpartedfromMarionatanextremityofperturbationandregret，andwent，asIhadpromisedandarranged，toEffie，whowaswaitingformeinapartmentsnearOrpington。Irememberheruponthestationplatform，abright，flittingfigurelookingalongthetrainforme，andourwalkoverthefieldsinthetwilight。Ihadexpectedanimmensesenseofreliefwhereatlastthestressesofseparationwereover，butnowIfoundIwasbeyondmeasurewretchedandperplexed，fulloftheprofoundestpersuasionofirreparableerror。TheduskandsomberMarionweresoalike，hersorrowseemedtobeallaboutme。Ihadtoholdmyselftomyownplans，torememberthatImustkeepfaithwithEffie，withEffiewhohadmadenoterms，exactednoguarantees，butflungherselfintomyhands。
Wewentacrosstheeveningfieldsinsilence，towardsaskyofdeepeninggoldandpurple，andEffiewasclosebesidemealways，veryclose，glancingupeverandagainatmyface。
CertainlysheknewIgrievedforMarion，thatourswasnownojoyfulreunion。Butsheshowednoresentmentandnojealousy。
Extraordinarily，shedidnotcompeteagainstMarion。NeveronceinallourtimetogetherdidshesayanadversewordofMarion。
Shesetherselfpresentlytodispeltheshadowthatbroodedovermewiththesameinstinctiveskillthatsomewomenwillshowwiththetroubleofachild。Shemadeherselfmygladandprettyslaveandhandmaid；sheforcedmeatlasttorejoiceinher。YetatthebackofitallMarionremained，stupidandtearfulandinfinitelydistressful，sothatIwasalmostintolerablyunhappyforher——forherandthedeadbodyofmymarriedlove。
Itisall，asItellitnow，unaccountabletome。Igobackintotheseremoteparts，theserarelyvisiteduplandsandlonelytaresofmemory，anditseemstomestillastrangecountry。IhadthoughtImightbegoingtosomesensuousparadisewithEffie，butdesirewhichfillstheuniversebeforeitssatisfaction，vanishesutterlylikethegoingofdaylight——withachievement。
Allthefactsandformsofliferemaindarklingandcold。Itwasanuplandofmelancholyquestionings，aregionfromwhichIsawalltheworldatnewanglesandinnewaspects；Ihadoutflankedpassionandromance。
Ihadcomeintoaconditionofvastperplexities。Forthefirsttimeinmylife，atleastsoitseemstomenowinthisretrospect，Ilookedatmyexistenceasawhole。
Sincethiswasnothing，whatwasIdoing？WhatwasIfor？
IwasgoingtoandfroaboutTono-Bungay——thebusinessIhadtakenuptosecureMarionandwhichheldmenowinspiteofourintimateseparation——andsnatchingoddweek-endsandnightsforOrpington，andallthewhileIstruggledwiththeseobstinateinterrogations。Iusedtofallintomusinginthetrains，I
becameevenalittleinaccurateandforgetfulaboutbusinessthings。IhavetheclearestmemoryofmyselfsittingthoughtfulintheeveningsunlightonagrassyhillsidethatlookedtowardSevenOaksandcommandedawidesweepofcountry，andthatIwasthinkingoutmydestiny。Icouldalmostwritemythoughtdownnow，Ibelieve，astheycametomethatafternoon。Effie，restlesslittlecockneythatshewas，rustledandstruggledinahedgerowbelow，gatheringflowers，discoveringflowersshehadneverseenbefore。Ihad。Iremember，aletterfromMarioninmypocket。Ihadevenmadesometentativesforreturn，forareconciliation；HeavenknowsnowhowIhadputit！buthercold，ill-writtenletterrepelledme。IperceivedIcouldneverfacethatoldinconclusivedullnessoflifeagain，thatstagnantdisappointment。That，anyhow，wasn’tpossible。Butwhatwaspossible？Icouldseenowayofhonourorfinelivingbeforemeatall。
“WhatamItodowithlife？”thatwasthequestionthatbesiegedme。
IwonderedifalltheworldwasevenasI，urgedtothisbyonemotiveandtothatbyanother，creaturesofchanceandimpulseandunmeaningtraditions。HadIindeedtoabidebywhatIhadsaidanddoneandchosen？WastherenothingformeinhonourbuttoprovideforEffie，gobackpenitenttoMarionandkeeptomytradeinrubbish——orfindsomefreshone——andsoworkouttheresidueofmydays？Ididn’tacceptthatforamoment。ButwhatelsewasItodo？Iwonderedifmycasewasthecaseofmanymen，whetherinformerages，too，menhadbeensoguideless，souncharted，sohaphazardintheirjourneyintolife。IntheMiddleAges，intheoldCatholicdays，onewenttoapriest，andhesaidwithallthefinalityofnaturallaw，thisyouareandthisyoumustdo。IwonderedwhetherevenintheMiddleAgesI
shouldhaveacceptedthatrulingwithoutquestion。
IremembertooverydistinctlyhowEffiecameandsatbesidemeonalittlebox：thatwasbeforethecasementwindowofourroom。
“Gloomkins。”saidshe。
Ismiledandremainedheadonhand，lookingoutofthewindowforgetfulofher。
“Didyouloveyourwifesowell？”shewhisperedsoftly。
“Oh！”Icried，recalledagain；“Idon’tknow。Idon’tunderstandthesethings。Lifeisathingthathurts，mydear！Ithurtswithoutlogicorreason。I’veblundered！Ididn’tunderstand。
Anyhow——thereisnoneedtogohurtingyou，isthere？”
AndIturnedaboutanddrewhertome，andkissedherear。
Yes，Ihadaverybadtime——Istillrecall。Isuffered，I
suppose，fromasortofennuioftheimagination。Ifoundmyselfwithoutanobjecttoholdmywilltogether。Isought。I
readrestlesslyanddiscursively。ItriedEwartandgotnohelpfromhim。AsIregarditallnowinthisretrospect，itseemstomeasifinthosedaysofdisgustandabandonedaimsIdiscoveredmyselfforthefirsttime。BeforethatIhadseenonlytheworldandthingsinit，hadsoughtthemself-forgetfulofallbutmyimpulse。NowIfoundmyselfGROUPEDwithasystemofappetitesandsatisfactions，withmuchworktodo——andnodesire，itseemed，leftinme。
ThereweremomentswhenIthoughtofsuicide。Attimesmylifeappearedbeforemeinbleak，relentlesslight，aseriesofignorances，crudeblunderings，degradationandcruelty。Ihadwhattheoldtheologianscalla“convictionofsin。”Isoughtsalvation——notperhapsintheformulaaMethodistpreacherwouldrecognisebutsalvationnevertheless。
Menfindtheirsalvationnowadaysinmanyways。Namesandformsdon’t，Ithink，matterverymuch；therealneedissomethingthatwecanholdandthatholdsone。Ihaveknownamanfindthatdeterminingfactorinadry-platefactory，andanotherinwritingahistoryoftheManor。Solongasitholdsone，itdoesnotmatter。ManymenandwomennowadaystakeupsomeconcreteaspectofSocialismorsocialreform。ButSocialismformehasalwaysbeenalittlebittoohuman，toosetaboutwithpersonalitiesandfoolishness。Itisn’tmyline。Idon’tlikethingssohuman。Idon’tthinkI’mblindtothefun，thesurprises，thejollylittlecoarsenessesandinsufficiencyoflife，tothe“humourofit。”aspeoplesay，andtoadventure，butthatisn’ttherootofthematterwithme。There’snohumourinmyblood。I’minearnestinwarpandwoof。Istumbleandflounder，butIknowthatoverallthesemerryimmediatethings，thereareotherthingsthataregreatandserene，veryhigh，beautifulthings——thereality。Ihaven’tgotit，butit’stherenevertheless。I’maspiritualguttersnipeinlovewithunimaginablegoddesses。I’veneverseenthegoddessesnorevershall——butittakesallthefunoutofthemud——andattimes###第40章
fearittakesallthekindliness，too。
ButI’mtalkingofthingsIcan’texpectthereadertounderstand，becauseIdon’thalfunderstandthemmyself。Thereissomethinglinksthingsforme，asunsetorso，amoodorso，thehighair，somethingtherewasinMarion’sformandcolour，somethingIfindandloseinMantegna’spictures，somethinginthelinesoftheseboatsImake。(YoushouldseeX2，mylastandbest！)
Ican’texplainmyself，Iperceive。Perhapsitallcomestothis，thatIamahardandmorallylimitedcadwithamindbeyondmymerits。NaturallyIresistthatasacompletesolution。
Anyhow，Ihadasenseofinexorableneed，ofdistressandinsufficiencythatwasunendurable，andforatimethisaeronauticalengineeringallayedit。
IntheendofthisparticularcrisisofwhichItellsobadly，I
idealisedScience。Idecidedthatinpowerandknowledgelaythesalvationofmylife，thesecretthatwouldfillmyneed；thattothesethingsIwouldgivemyself。
Iemergedatlastlikeamanwhohasbeendivingindarkness，clutchingatanewresolveforwhichhehadgropeddesperatelyandlong。
Icameintotheinnerofficesuddenlyoneday——itmusthavebeenjustbeforethetimeofMarion’ssuitforrestitution——andsatdownbeforemyuncle。
“Lookhere。”Isaid，“I’msickofthis。”
“HulLO！”heanswered，andputsomepapersaside。
“What’sup，George？”
“Thingsarewrong。”
“Ashow？”
“Mylife。”Isaid，“it’samess，aninfinitemess。”
“She’sbeenastupidgirl，George。”hesaid；“Ipartlyunderstand。Butyou’requitofhernow，practically，andthere’sjustasgoodfishinthesea——“
“Oh！it’snotthat！”Icried。“That’sonlythepartthatshows。
I’msick——I’msickofallthisdamnedrascality。”
“Eh？Eh？”saidmyuncle。“WHAT——rascality？”
“Oh，YOUknow。IwantsomeSTUFF，man。Iwantsomethingtoholdonto。IshallgoamokifIdon’tgetit。I’madifferentsortofbeastfromyou。Youfloatinallthisbunkum。_I_feellikeamanflounderinginauniverseofsoapsuds，upanddowns，eastandwest。Ican’tstandit。Imustgetmyfootonsomethingsolidor——Idon’tknowwhat。”
Ilaughedattheconsternationinhisface。
“Imeanit。”Isaid。“I’vebeenthinkingitover。I’vemadeupmymind。It’snogoodarguing。Ishallgoinforwork——realwork。No！thisisn’twork；it’sonlylaboriouscheating。ButI’vegotanidea！It’sanoldidea——Ithoughtofyearsago，butitcamebacktome。Lookhere！WhyshouldIfenceaboutwithyou？Ibelievethetimehascomeforflyingtobepossible。
Realflying！”
“Flying！”
Istucktothat，andithelpedmethroughtheworsttimeinmylife。Myuncle，aftersomehalf-heartedresistanceandatalkwithmyaunt，behavedlikethefatherofaspoiltson。Hefixedupanarrangementthatgavemecapitaltoplaywith，releasedmefromtooconstantasolicitudeforthenewerbusinessdevelopments——thiswasinwhatImaycallthelaterMoggsperiodofourenterprises——andIwenttoworkatoncewithgrimintensity。
ButIwilltellofmysoaringandflyingmachinesintheproperplace。I’vebeenleavingthestoryofmyunclealtogethertoolong。IwantedmerelytotellhowitwasItooktothiswork。I
tooktotheseexperimentsafterIhadsoughtsomethingthatMarioninsomeindefinablewayhadseemedtopromise。Itoiledandforgotmyselfforatime，anddidmanythings。Sciencetoohasbeensomethingofanirresponsivemistresssince，thoughI’veservedherbetterthanIservedMarion。ButatthetimeScience，withherorder，herinhumandistance，yetsteelycertainties，savedmefromdespair。
Well，Ihavestilltofly；butincidentallyIhaveinventedthelightestenginesintheworld。
Iamtryingtotellofallthethingsthathappenedtome。It’shardenoughsimplytogetitputdownintheremotestdegreeright。Butthisisanovel，notatreatise。Don’timaginethatI
amcomingpresentlytoanysortofsolutionofmydifficulties。
HereamongmydrawingsandhammeringsNOW，Istillquestionunansweringproblems。Allmylifehasbeenatbottom，SEEKING，disbelievingalways，dissatisfiedalwayswiththethingseenandthethingbelieved，seekingsomethingintoil，inforce，indanger，somethingwhosenameandnatureIdonotclearlyunderstand，somethingbeautiful，worshipful，enduring，mineprofoundlyandfundamentally，andtheutterredemptionofmyself；
Idon’tknow——allIcantellisthatitissomethingIhaveeverfailedtofind。
ButbeforeIfinishthischapterandbookaltogetherandgoonwiththegreatadventureofmyuncle’scareer。ImayperhapstellwhatelseremainstotellofMarionandEffie，andthenforatimesetmyprivatelifebehindme。
ForatimeMarionandIcorrespondedwithsomeregularity，writingfriendlybutratheruninforminglettersaboutsmallbusinessthings。Theclumsyprocessofdivorcecompleteditself。
SheleftthehouseatEalingandwentintothecountrywithherauntandparents，takingasmallfarmnearLewesinSussex。Sheputupglass，sheputinheatforherfather，happyman！andspokeoffigsandpeaches。Thethingseemedtopromisewellthroughoutaspringandsummer，buttheSussexwinterafterLondonwastoomuchfortheRamboats。Theygotverymuddyanddull；Mr。Ramboatkilledacowbyimproperfeeding，andthatdisheartenedthemall。Atwelvemonthsawtheenterpriseindifficulties。Ihadtohelpheroutofthis，andthentheyreturnedtoLondonandshewentintopartnershipwithSmithieatStreatham，andranabusinessthatwasintimatedonthefirm’sstationeryas“Robes。”Theparentsandauntwerestowedawayinacottagesomewhere。Afterthatthelettersbecameinfrequent。
ButinoneIrememberapostscriptthathadalittlestabofouroldintimacy：“PooroldMigglesisdead。”
Nearlyeightyearsslippedby。Igrewup。Igrewinexperience，incapacity，untilIwasfullyaman，butwithmanynewinterests，livingonalargerscaleinawiderworldthanIcouldhavedreamtofinmyMariondays。Herlettersbecomerareandinsignificant。Atlastcameagapofsilencethatmademecurious。ForeighteenmonthsormoreIhadnothingfromMarionsaveherquarterlyreceiptsthroughthebank。ThenIdamnedatSmithie，andwroteacardtoMarion。
“DearMarion。”Isaid，“howgoesit？”
Sheastonishedmetremendouslybytellingmeshehadmarriedagain——“aMr。Wachorn，aleadingagentinthepaper-patterntrade。”ButshestillwroteonthePonderevoandSmith(Robes)
notepaper，fromthePonderevoandSmithaddress。
Andthat，exceptforalittledifferenceofopinionaboutthecontinuanceofalimonywhichgavemesomepassagesofanger，andtheuseofmynamebythefirm，whichalsoannoyedme，istheendofMarion’shistoryforme，andshevanishesoutofthisstory。
Idonotknowwheresheisorwhatsheisdoing。Idonotknowwhethersheisaliveordead。ItseemstomeutterlygrotesquethattwopeoplewhohavestoodsoclosetooneanotherassheandIshouldbesoseparated，butsoitisbetweenus。
Effie，too，Ihavepartedfrom，thoughIstillseeherattimes。
Betweenustherewasneveranyintentionofmarriagenorintimacyofsoul。Shehadasudden，fierce，hot-bloodedpassionformeandIforher，butIwasnotherfirstlovernorherlast。ShewasinanotherworldfromMarion。Shehadaqueer，delightfulnature；I’venomemoryofeverseeinghersullenormalicious。
Shewas——indeedshewasmagnificently——eupeptic。That，Ithink，wasthecentralsecretofheragreeableness，and，moreover，thatshewasinfinitelykind-hearted。Ihelpedheratlastintoanopeningshecoveted，andsheamazedmebyasuddendisplayofbusinesscapacity。ShehasnowatypewritingbureauinRiffle’sInn，andsherunsitwithabriskvigourandconsiderablesuccess，albeitacertainplumpnesshasovertakenher。Andshestilllovesherkind。Shemarriedayearorsoagoaboyhalfherage——awretchofapoet，awretchedpoet，andgiventodrugs，athingwithlankfairhairalwaysgettingintohisblueeyes，andlimplegs。Shedidit，shesaid，becauseheneedednursing。
Butenoughofthisdisasterofmymarriageandofmyearlyloveaffairs；IhavetoldallthatisneededformypicturetoexplainhowIcametotakeupaeroplaneexperimentsandengineeringscience；letmegetbacktomyessentialstory，toTono-Bungayandmyuncle’spromotionsandtothevisionoftheworldthesethingshavegivenme。
