News of the engagement

By Arnold Bennett

My mother never came to Bursley Station to meet me when I arrived from London. So I had time to think of the tremendous news I had to tell her, and how to tell it to her. I had thought of it before, of course. In fact, I had thought of it all the way from London to Bursley. I had thought of nothing else since I said good-bye to Agnes in London.

I used to write to my mother every week, telling her about my work and how I spent my time. She knew all my friends by name, and I had often mentioned Agnes and her family in my letters. But it is impossible to write to your mother: "It seems to me that I am falling in love." Or, for example, "I think Agnes likes me. I am sure that she likes me. I'm going to ask her to marry me." I could not write such things in a letter, so I had written nothing about my engagement.

I was the son of a widow. My mother had no other children and nothing else in her life besides me. Now I was about to tell her that I was going to marry a girl she had never seen. I knew that the news would be unexpected and that my mother would probably be a little sad. The situation was delicate, and I felt I would need courage.

I walked up to the door of my mother's little house, but before I could put my hand on the bell, my mother opened the door. She was wearing her best black dress, as usual, and as usual she said, kissing⁵ me. "Well, Philip, how are you?"

"I'm all right, Mother," I answered. "How are you?"

She was always excited when I came to visit her, but today, I noticed immediately that she was more excited than usual. She looked remarkably young, more like a young girl than a woman of forty-five. As I looked into her shining eyes I thought, "Has she learned about Agnes in some way?" But I said nothing. "I'll tell her at supper," I decided.

"Now, Philip," Mother said, "you can go up to your room and wash, while I prepare supper." And she went into the kitchen.

As I turned to go, the door-bell rang. I was about to go and open it, when my mother flew out of the kitchen to the door.

It was only a boy bringing the evening newspaper. Mother took it from him and went back into the kitchen without saying any­thing, and I went up to my room. While I was washing, I heard the bell ring again, and again Mother ran to the door to open it. "I don't remember Mother running to the door like this," I thought. "Is she expecting visitors?"

When I came down from my room, supper wasn't ready yet. I went into the dining-room as I wanted to finish a letter to Agnes that I had begun writing on the train. But there was a surprise for me in the dining-room. The table was laid for three!

"Supper for three!" I thought. "And she didn't say a word about it to me. What can this mean?"

My mother always invited friends for supper when I came to Bursley, but never on my first night. I couldn't stop thinking about it all the time I was writing my letter to Agnes. My mother, I knew, loved to plan pleasant surprises for people. "In some way," I thought, "she has discovered about Agnes and me." Perhaps Agnes had written to her without telling me. And perhaps Agnes had arranged to come to Bursley herself, and Mother was expecting her any minute. That explained why Mother was so excited, why she flew to the door every time the bell rang. "Well," I thought "I shall say nothing. Let them enjoy their secret.