Chapter 1 One may as well begin with Helen 's letters to her sister .
HOWARDS END , TUESDAY .
Dearest Meg , It is n't going to be what we expected .
It is old and little , and altogether delightful -- red brick .
We can scarcely pack in as it is , and the dear knows what will happen when Paul ( younger son ) arrives tomorrow .
From hall you go right or left into dining-room or drawing-room .
Hall itself is practically a room .
You open another door in it , and there are the stairs going up in a sort of tunnel to the first-floor .
Three bedrooms in a row there , and three attics in a row above .
That is n't all the house really , but it 's all that one notices -- nine windows as you look up from the front garden .
Then there 's a very big wych-elm -- to the left as you look up -- leaning a little over the house , and standing on the boundary between the garden and meadow .
I quite love that tree already .
Also ordinary elms , oaks -- no nastier than ordinary oaks -- pear-trees , apple-trees , and a vine .
No silver birches , though .
However , I must get on to my host and hostess .
I only wanted to show that it is n't the least what we expected .
Why did we settle that their house would be all gables and wiggles , and their garden all gamboge-coloured paths ?
I believe simply because we associate them with expensive hotels -- Mrs. Wilcox trailing in beautiful dresses down long corridors , Mr. Wilcox bullying porters , etc .
We females are that unjust .
I shall be back Saturday ; will let you know train later .
They are as angry as I am that you did not come too ; really Tibby is too tiresome , he starts a new mortal disease every month .
How could he have got hay fever in London ?
and even if he could , it seems hard that you should give up a visit to hear a schoolboy sneeze .
Tell him that Charles Wilcox ( the son who is here ) has hay fever too , but he 's brave , and gets quite cross when we inquire after it .
Men like the Wilcoxes would do Tibby a power of good .
But you wo n't agree , and I 'd better change the subject .
This long letter is because I 'm writing before breakfast .
Oh , the beautiful vine leaves !
The house is covered with a vine .
I looked out earlier , and Mrs. Wilcox was already in the garden .
She evidently loves it .
No wonder she sometimes looks tired .
She was watching the large red poppies come out .
Then she walked off the lawn to the meadow , whose corner to the right I can just see .
Trail , trail , went her long dress over the sopping grass , and she came back with her hands full of the hay that was cut yesterday -- I suppose for rabbits or something , as she kept on smelling it .
The air here is delicious .
Later on I heard the noise of croquet balls , and looked out again , and it was Charles Wilcox practising ; they are keen on all games .
Presently he started sneezing and had to stop .
Then I hear more clicketing , and it is Mr. Wilcox practising , and then , ' a-tissue , a-tissue ' : he has to stop too .
Then Evie comes out , and does some calisthenic exercises on a machine that is tacked on to a greengage-tree -- they put everything to use -- and then she says ' a-tissue , ' and in she goes .
And finally Mrs. Wilcox reappears , trail , trail , still smelling hay and looking at the flowers .
I inflict all this on you because once you said that life is sometimes life and sometimes only a drama , and one must learn to distinguish t ' other from which , and up to now I have always put that down as ' Meg 's clever nonsense . '
But this morning , it really does seem not life but a play , and it did amuse me enormously to watch the W 's .
Now Mrs. Wilcox has come in .
I am going to wear [ omission ] .
Last night Mrs. Wilcox wore an [ omission ] , and Evie [ omission ] .
So it is n't exactly a go-as-you-please place , and if you shut your eyes it still seems the wiggly hotel that we expected .
Not if you open them .
The dog-roses are too sweet .
There is a great hedge of them over the lawn -- magnificently tall , so that they fall down in garlands , and nice and thin at the bottom , so that you can see ducks through it and a cow .
These belong to the farm , which is the only house near us .
There goes the breakfast gong .
Much love .
Modified love to Tibby .
Love to Aunt Juley ; how good of her to come and keep you company , but what a bore .
Burn this .
Will write again Thursday .
Helen HOWARDS END , FRIDAY .
Dearest Meg , I am having a glorious time .
I like them all .
Mrs. Wilcox , if quieter than in Germany , is sweeter than ever , and I never saw anything like her steady unselfishness , and the best of it is that the others do not take advantage of her .
They are the very happiest , jolliest family that you can imagine .
I do really feel that we are making friends .
The fun of it is that they think me a noodle , and say so -- at least Mr. Wilcox does -- and when that happens , and one does n't mind , it 's a pretty sure test , is n't it ?
He says the most horrid things about women 's suffrage so nicely , and when I said I believed in equality he just folded his arms and gave me such a setting down as I 've never had .
Meg , shall we ever learn to talk less ?
I never felt so ashamed of myself in my life .
I could n't point to a time when men had been equal , nor even to a time when the wish to be equal had made them happier in other ways .
I could n't say a word .
I had just picked up the notion that equality is good from some book -- probably from poetry , or you .
Anyhow , it 's been knocked into pieces , and , like all people who are really strong , Mr. Wilcox did it without hurting me .
On the other hand , I laugh at them for catching hay fever .
We live like fighting-cocks , and Charles takes us out every day in the motor -- a tomb with trees in it , a hermit 's house , a wonderful road that was made by the Kings of Mercia -- tennis -- a cricket match -- bridge -- and at night we squeeze up in this lovely house .
The whole clan 's here now -- it 's like a rabbit warren .
Evie is a dear .
They want me to stop over Sunday -- I suppose it wo n't matter if I do .
Marvellous weather and the view 's marvellous -- views westward to the high ground .
Thank you for your letter .
Burn this .
Your affectionate Helen HOWARDS END , SUNDAY .
Dearest , dearest Meg , -- I do not know what you will say : Paul and I are in love -- the younger son who only came here Wednesday .
Chapter 2 Margaret glanced at her sister 's note and pushed it over the breakfast-table to her aunt .
There was a moment 's hush , and then the flood-gates opened .
" I can tell you nothing , Aunt Juley .
I know no more than you do .
We met -- we only met the father and mother abroad last spring .
I know so little that I did n't even know their son 's name .
It 's all so -- " She waved her hand and laughed a little .
" In that case it is far too sudden . "
" Who knows , Aunt Juley , who knows ? "
" But , Margaret dear , I mean we must n't be unpractical now that we 've come to facts .
It is too sudden , surely . "
" Who knows ! "
" But Margaret dear -- " " I 'll go for her other letters , " said Margaret .
" No , I wo n't , I 'll finish my breakfast .
In fact , I have n't them .
We met the Wilcoxes on an awful expedition that we made from Heidelberg to Speyer .
Helen and I had got it into our heads that there was a grand old cathedral at Speyer -- the Archbishop of Speyer was one of the seven electors -- you know -- ' Speyer , Maintz , and Koln . '
Those three sees once commanded the Rhine Valley and got it the name of Priest Street . "
" I still feel quite uneasy about this business , Margaret . "
" The train crossed by a bridge of boats , and at first sight it looked quite fine .
But oh , in five minutes we had seen the whole thing .
The cathedral had been ruined , absolutely ruined , by restoration ; not an inch left of the original structure .
We wasted a whole day , and came across the Wilcoxes as we were eating our sandwiches in the public gardens .
They too , poor things , had been taken in -- they were actually stopping at Speyer -- and they rather liked Helen insisting that they must fly with us to Heidelberg .
As a matter of fact , they did come on next day .
We all took some drives together .
They knew us well enough to ask Helen to come and see them -- at least , I was asked too , but Tibby 's illness prevented me , so last Monday she went alone .
That 's all .
You know as much as I do now .
It 's a young man out the unknown .
She was to have come back Saturday , but put off till Monday , perhaps on account of -- I do n't know .
She broke off , and listened to the sounds of a London morning .
Their house was in Wickham Place , and fairly quiet , for a lofty promontory of buildings separated it from the main thoroughfare .
One had the sense of a backwater , or rather of an estuary , whose waters flowed in from the invisible sea , and ebbed into a profound silence while the waves without were still beating .
Though the promontory consisted of flats -- expensive , with cavernous entrance halls , full of concierges and palms -- it fulfilled its purpose , and gained for the older houses opposite a certain measure of peace .
These , too , would be swept away in time , and another promontory would rise upon their site , as humanity piled itself higher and higher on the precious soil of London .