all roads lead to calvary-第20部分

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harbours；　conducted　the　traffic；　reared　the　market　place。　　She　knew　of　the　steam　engine；　employed　it　for　pumping　water　in　the　age　of　the　Antonines。　　Sooner　or　later；　she　would　have　placed　it　on　rails；　and　in　ships。　　Rome　should　have　been　the　policeman；　keeping　the　world　in　order；　making　it　a　fit　habitation。　　Her　mistake　was　in　regarding　these　things　as　an　end　in　themselves；　dreaming　of　nothing　beyond。　　From　her　we　had　inherited　the　fallacy　that　man　was　made　for　the　world；　not　the　world　for　man。　Rome　organized　only　for　man's　body。　　Greece　would　have　legislated　for　his　soul。

They　went　into　the　drawing…room。　　Her　father　asked　her　to　sing　and　Arthur　opened　the　piano　for　her　and　lit　the　candles。　　She　chose　some　ballads　and　a　song　of　Herrick's；　playing　her　own　accompaniment　while　Arthur　turned　the　leaves。　　She　had　a　good　voice；　a　low　contralto。　　The　room　was　high　and　dimly　lighted。　　It　looked　larger　than　it　really　was。　　Her　father　sat　in　his　usual　chair　beside　the　fire　and　listened　with　half…closed　eyes。　　Glancing　now　and　then　across　at　him；　she　was　reminded　of　Orchardson's　picture。　　She　was　feeling　sentimental；　a　novel　sensation　to　her。　　She　rather　enjoyed　it。

She　finished　with　one　of　Burns's　lyrics；　and　then　told　Arthur　that　it　was　now　his　turn；　and　that　she　would　play　for　him。　　He　shook　his　head；　pleading　that　he　was　out　of　practice。

〃I　wish　it；〃　she　said；　speaking　low。　　And　it　pleased　her　that　he　made　no　answer　but　to　ask　her　what　he　should　sing。　　He　had　a　light　tenor　voice。　　It　was　wobbly　at　first；　but　improved　as　he　went　on。　They　ended　with　a　duet。

The　next　morning　she　went　into　town　with　them。　　She　never　seemed　to　have　any　time　in　London；　and　wanted　to　do　some　shopping。　　They　joined　her　again　for　lunch　and　afterwards；　at　her　father's　suggestion；　she　and　Arthur　went　for　a　walk。　　They　took　the　tram　out　of　the　city　and　struck　into　the　country。　　The　leaves　still　lingered　brown　and　red　upon　the　trees。　　He　carried　her　cloak　and　opened　gates　for　her　and　held　back　brambles　while　she　passed。　　She　had　always　been　indifferent　to　these　small　gallantries；　but　to…day　she　welcomed　them。　　She　wished　to　feel　her　power　to　attract　and　command。　　They　avoided　all　subjects　on　which　they　could　differ；　even　in　words。　　They　talked　of　people　and　places　they　had　known　together。　　They　remembered　their　common　love　of　animals　and　told　of　the　comedies　and　tragedies　that　had　befallen　their　pets。　　Joan's　regret　was　that　she　had　not　now　even　a　dog；　thinking　it　cruel　to　keep　them　in　London。　　She　hated　the　women　she　met；　dragging　the　poor　little　depressed　beasts　about　at　the　end　of　a　string：　　savage　with　them；　if　they　dared　to　stop　for　a　moment　to　exchange　a　passing　wag　of　the　tail　with　some　other　little　lonely　sufferer。　　It　was　as　bad　as　keeping　a　lark　in　a　cage。　　She　had　tried　a　cat：　　but　so　often　she　did　not　get　home　till　late　and　that　was　just　the　time　when　the　cat　wanted　to　be　out；　so　that　they　seldom　met。　　He　suggested　a　parrot。　　His　experience　of　them　was　that　they　had　no　regular　hours　and　would　willingly　sit　up　all　night；　if　encouraged；　and　talk　all　the　time。　　Joan's　objection　to　running　a　parrot　was　that　it　stamped　you　as　an　old　maid；　and　she　wasn't　that；　at　least；　not　yet。　　She　wondered　if　she　could　make　an　owl　really　happy。　Minerva　had　an　owl。

He　told　her　how　one　spring；　walking　across　a　common；　after　a　fire；　he　had　found　a　mother　thrush　burnt　to　death　upon　her　nest；　her　charred　wings　spread　out　in　a　vain　endeavour　to　protect　her　brood。　He　had　buried　her　there　among　the　blackened　thorn　and　furze；　and　placed　a　little　cross　of　stones　above　her。

〃I　hope　nobody　saw　me；〃　he　said　with　a　laugh。　　〃But　I　couldn't　bear　to　leave　her　there；　unhonoured。〃

〃It's　one　of　the　things　that　make　me　less　certain　than　I　want　to　be　of　a　future　existence；〃　said　Joan：　　〃the　thought　that　animals　can　have　no　part　in　it；　that　all　their　courage　and　love　and　faithfulness　dies　with　them　and　is　wasted。〃

〃Are　you　sure　it　is？〃　he　answered。　　〃It　would　be　so　unreasonable。〃

They　had　tea　at　an　old…fashioned　inn　beside　a　stream。　　It　was　a　favourite　resort　in　summer　time；　but　now　they　had　it　to　themselves。　The　wind　had　played　pranks　with　her　hair　and　he　found　a　mirror　and　knelt　before　her；　holding　it。

She　stood　erect；　looking　down　at　him　while　seeming　to　be　absorbed　in　the　rearrangement　of　her　hair；　feeling　a　little　ashamed　of　herself。　　She　was　〃encouraging〃　him。　　There　was　no　other　word　for　it。　　She　seemed　to　have　developed　a　sudden　penchant　for　this　sort　of　thing。　　It　would　end　in　his　proposing　to　her；　and　then　she　would　have　to　tell　him　that　she　cared　for　him　only　in　a　cousinly　sort　of　waywhatever　that　might　meanand　that　she　could　never　marry　him。　She　dared　not　ask　herself　why。　　She　must　manoeuvre　to　put　it　off　as　long　as　possible；　and　meanwhile　some　opening　might　occur　to　enlighten　him。　　She　would　talk　to　him　about　her　work；　and　explain　to　him　how　she　had　determined　to　devote　her　life　to　it　to　the　exclusion　of　all　other　distractions。　　If；　then；　he　chose　to　go　on　loving　heror　if　he　couldn't　help　itthat　would　not　be　her　fault。　After　all；　it　did　him　no　harm。　　She　could　always　be　gracious　and　kind　to　him。　　It　was　not　as　if　she　had　tricked　him。　　He　had　always　loved　her。　　Kneeling　before　her；　serving　her：　　it　was　evident　it　made　him　supremely　happy。　　It　would　be　cruel　of　her　to　end　it。

The　landlady　entered　unexpectedly　with　the　tea；　but　he　did　not　rise　till　Joan　turned　away；　nor　did　he　seem　disconcerted。　　Neither　did　the　landlady。　　She　was　an　elderly；　quiet…eyed　woman；　and　had　served　more　than　one　generation　of　young　people　with　their　teas。

They　returned　home　by　train。　　Joan　insisted　on　travelling　third　class；　and　selected　a　compartment　containing　a　stout　woman　and　two　children。　　Arthur　had　to　be　at　the　works。　　An　important　contract　had　got　behindhand　and　they　were　working　overtime。　　She　and　her　father　dined　alone。　　He　made　her　fulfil　her　promise　to　talk　about　herself；　and　she　told　him　all　she　thought　would　interest　him。　　She　passed　lightly　over　her　acquaintanceship　with　Phillips。　　He　would　regard　it　as　highly　undesirable；　she　told　herself；　and　it　would　trouble　him。　　He　was　reading　her　articles　in　the　Sunday　Post；　as　also　her　Letters　from　Clorinda：　　and　of　the　two　preferred　the　latter　as　being　less　subversive　of　law　and　order。　　Also　he　did　not　like　seeing　her　photograph　each　week；　displayed　across　two　columns　with　her　name　beneath　in　one　inch　type。　　He　supposed　he　was　old…　fashioned。　　She　was　getting　rather　tired　of　it　herself。

〃The　Editor　insisted　upon　it；〃　she　explained。　　〃It　was　worth　it　for　the　opportunity　it　gives　me。　　I　preach　every　Sunday　to　a　congregation　of　over　a　million　souls。　　It's　better　than　being　a　Bishop。　　Besides；〃　she　added；　〃the　men　are　just　as　bad。　　You　see　their　silly　faces　everywhere。〃

〃That's　like　you　women；〃　he　answered　with　a　smile。　　〃You　pretend　to　be　superior；　and　then　you　copy　us。〃

She　laughed。　　But　the　next　moment　she　was　serious。

〃No；　we　don't；〃　she　said；　〃not　those　of　us　who　think。　　We　know　we　shall　never　oust　man　from　his　place。　　He　will　always　be　the　greater。　　We　want　to　help　him；　that's　all。〃

〃But　wasn't　that　the　Lord's　idea；〃　he　said；　〃when　He　gave　Eve　to　Adam　to　be　his　helpmeet？〃

〃Yes；　that　was　all　right；〃　she　answered。　　〃He　fashioned　Eve　for　Adam　and　saw　that　Adam　got　her。　　The　ideal　marriage　might　have　been　the　ideal　solution。　　If　the　Lord　had　intended　that；　he　should　have　kept　the　match…making　in　His　own　hands：　　not　have　left　it　to　man。　Somewhere　in　Athens　there　must　have　been　the　helpmeet　God　had　made　for　Socrates。　　When　they　met；　it　was　Xanthippe　that　she　kissed。〃

A　servant　brought　the　coffee　and　went　out　again。　　Her　father　lighted　a　cigar　and　handed　her　the　cigarettes。

〃Will　it　shock　you；　Dad？〃　she　asked。

〃Rather　late　in　the　day　for　you　to　worry　yourself　about　that；　isn't　it？〃　he　answered　with　a　smile。

He　struck　a　match　and　held　it　for　her。　　Joan　sat　with　her　elbows　on　the　table　and　smoked　in　silence。　　She　was　thinking。

Why　had　he　never　〃brought　her　up；〃　never　exacted　obedience　from　her；　never　even　tried　to　influence　her？　　It　could　not　have　been　mere　weakness。　　She　stole　a　sidelong　glance　at　the　tired；　lined　face　with　its　steel…blue　eyes。　　She　had　never　seen　them　other　than　calm；　but　they　must　have　been　able　to　flash。　　Why　had　he　always　been　so　just　and　kind　and　patient　with　her？　　Why　had　he　never　scolded　her　and　bullied　her　and　teased　her？　　Why　had　he　let　her　go　away；　leaving　him　lonely　in　his　empty；　voiceless　house？　　Why　had　he　never　made　any　claim　upon　her？　　The　idea　came　to　her　as　an　inspiration。　　At　least；　it　would　ease　her　conscience。　　〃Why　don't　you　let　Arthur　live　here；〃　she　said；　〃instead　of　going　back　to　his　lodgings？　　It　would　be　company　for　you。〃

He　did　not　answer　for　some　time。　　She　had　begun　to　wonder　if　he　had　heard。

〃What　do　you　think　of　him？〃　he　said；　without　looking　at　her。

〃Oh；　he's　quite　a　nice　lad；〃　she　answered。

It　was　some　while　again　before　he　spoke。　　〃He　will　be　the　last　of　the　Allways；〃　he　said。　　〃I　should　like　to　think　of　the　name　being　continued；　and　he's　a　good　business　man；　in　spite　of　his　dreaminess。　　Perhaps　he　would　get　on　better　with　the　men。〃

She　seized　at　the　chance　of　changing　the　subject。

〃It　was　a　foolish　notion；〃　she　said；　〃that　of　the　Ma