The Bell by Iris Murdoch Page A

was not making too much noise. When he reached the terrace he slowed down and walked slowly across the gravel, getting his breath, and up the steps to the balcony. The lights were still on in the hall and in the common room, and the doors stood open, but there seemed to be nobody there. Toby stood still on the balcony, tense and irresolute. He was extremely disturbed by what he had overheard and by having overheard it. The simplicity and curiously pure charm of the scene had disappeared in an instant. He now felt extreme disquietude at the thought of living in the Lodge. On the other hand, he felt very flattered as well as startled at the confidence that was being shown in him, and excited as at the prospect of an adventure. His thoughts were in a turmoil.
    Before he had time to reflect any further a shadow fell from the common room doorway and Michael Meade appeared. Toby stepped forward into the light.
    â€˜Ah, there you are!’ said Michael. ‘I’m terribly sorry we kept you waiting. We’ll go on down to the Lodge now, if you’re ready. Have you got your bag?’
    â€˜It’s here,’ said Toby. He picked it up from beside the doorway.
    â€˜Can you manage?’ said Michael. ‘Let me carry one side.’
    They went down the steps together, across the terrace and down onto the yew tree patch. Michael walked with a slight stoop, darting glances at this companion.
    â€˜We’ll go across by the ferry,’ he said. ‘We don’t use the causeway except for going to the Abbey.’
    They stepped onto the wooden landing-stage, and the sound of their footsteps echoed in the hollow space between the planks and the lapping water. Michael put Toby’s case into the boat. The moon was still unobscured.
    â€˜How does the boat get back’, said Toby, ‘after somebody’s been across?’ He found himself speaking in a low voice.
    â€˜There’s a painter tied to each end of it’, said Michael, ‘and attached to each shore, so that it can be pulled from either side. Here, I’ll steady it and you get in.’
    Toby stepped into the swaying yielding bottom of the rowing boat and sat down at once. He wanted desperately to be allowed to row, but kept quiet. The enormous night sky full of stars, the shadows of the moon, the great house brooding behind them, the splashing of the water under the boat, filled him with a breathless inarticulate excitement.
    Michael stepped in and pushed off vigorously. He took up the single oar which lay across the seats, slipped it into a rowlock at the stern of the boat, and worked it expertly to and fro. The boat veered quietly and began to move, rolling a little, across the surface of the lake, which remained smooth, scarcely rippled at their progress, black and radiantly glossy. Toby let his hand trail in the water. It was warm.
    â€˜All right, Toby?’ said Michael.
    â€˜ Yes !’ said Toby, answering the vague question with a sudden inexplicit enthusiasm. He saw Michael looking down at him and caught the flash of his smile. Then Michael freed the oar and drew it smoothly along the side of the boat. The other side came bumping neatly against the landing-stage. Toby hopped out and seized his suitcase. Michael followed, and the boat bobbed away a little on the water.
    A grassy path led straight ahead of them and Toby could dimly see the avenue of trees beyond. A bird sang harshly beside the lake. It was not a nightingale.
    â€˜I hope you don’t mind living at the Lodge,’ said Michael. ‘You’ll be with us for all meals and work and so on. I expect James explained to you. It’s just for sleeping.’
    â€˜I don’t mind a bit,’ said Toby. He began to wonder painfully whether he oughtn’t to tell Michael that he had overheard the conversation. Perhaps it was dishonest not to. He couldn’t decide.
    Michael went on. ‘I’m sure you’ll get on well with Nick Fawley.