fraternity-第43部分

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I　shall　never　know。'

The　little　model's　face　wore　a　half…caught…out；　half…stolid　look。

〃Please　go　in；〃　Bianca　said；　〃my　father　will　be　glad　to　see　you。〃

She　held　the　garden　gate　open　for　the　girl　to　pass　through。　　Her　feeling　at　that　moment　was　one　of　slight　amusement　at　the　futility　of　her　journey。　　Not　even　this　small　piece　of　generosity　was　permitted　her；　it　seemed。

〃How　are　you　getting　on？〃

The　little　model　made　an　impulsive　movement　at　such　an　unexpected　question。　　Checking　it　at　once；　she　answered：

〃Very　well；　thank　you；　that　is；　not　very…〃

〃You　will　find　my　father　tired　to…day；　he　has　caught　a　chill。　　Don't　let　him　read　too　much；　please。〃

The　little　model　seemed　to　try　and　nerve　herself　to　make　some　statement；　but；　failing；　passed　into　the　house。

Bianca　did　not　follow；　but　stole　back　into　the　garden；　where　the　sun　was　still　falling　on　a　bed　of　wallflowers　at　the　far　end。　　She　bent　down　over　these　flowers　till　her　veil　touched　them。　　Two　wild　bees　were　busy　there；　buzzing　with　smoky　wings；　clutching　with　their　black；　tiny　legs　at　the　orange　petals；　plunging　their　black；　tiny　tongues　far　down　into　the　honeyed　centres。　　The　flowers　quivered　beneath　the　weight　of　their　small　dark　bodies。　　Bianca's　face　quivered　too；　bending　close　to　them；　nor　making　the　slightest　difference　to　their　hunt。

Hilary；　who；　it　has　been　seen；　lived　in　thoughts　about　events　rather　than　in　events　themselves；　and　to　whom　crude　acts　and　words　had　little　meaning　save　in　relation　to　what　philosophy　could　make　of　them；　greeted　with　a　startled　movement　the　girl's　appearance　in　the　corridor　outside　Mr。　Stone's　apartment。　　But　the　little　model；　who　mentally　lived　very　much　from　hand　to　mouth；　and　had　only　the　philosophy　of　wants；　acted　differently。　　She　knew　that　for　the　last　five　days；　like　a　spaniel　dog　shut　away　from　where　it　feels　it　ought　to　be；　she　had　wanted　to　be　where　she　was　now　standing；　she　knew　that；　in　her　new　room　with　its　rust…red　doors；　she　had　bitten　her　lips　and　fingers　till　blood　came；　and；　as　newly　caged　birds　will　flutter；　had　beaten　her　wings　against　those　walls　with　blue　roses　on　a　yellow　ground。　　She　remembered　how　she　had　lain；　brooding；　on　that　piece　of　red　and　yellow　tapestry；　twisting　its　tassels；　staring　through　half…closed　eyes　at　nothing。

There　was　something　different　in　her　look　at　Hilary。　　It　had　lost　some　of　its　childish　devotion；　it　was　bolder；　as　if　she　had　lived　and　felt；　and　brushed　a　good　deal　more　down　off　her　wings　during　those　few　days。

〃Mrs。　Dallison　told　me　to　come；〃　she　said。　　〃I　thought　I　might。　　Mr。　Creed　told　me　about　him　being　in　prison。〃

Hilary　made　way　for　her；　and；　following　her　into　Mr。　Stone's　presence；　shut　the　door。

〃The　truant　has　returned；〃　he　said。

Hearing　herself　called　so　unjustly　by　that　name；　the　little　model　gushed　deeply；　and　tried　to　speak。　　She　stopped　at　the　smile　on　Hilary's　face；　and　gazed　from　him　to　Mr。　Stone　and　back　again；　the　victim　of　mingled　feelings。

Mr。　Stone　was　seen　to　have　risen　to　his　feet；　and　to　be　very　slowly　moving　towards　his　desk。　　He　leaned　both　arms　on　his　papers　for　support；　and；　seeming　to　gather　strength；　began　sorting　out　his　manuscript。

Through　the　open　window　the　distant　music　of　a　barrel…organ　came　drifting　in。　　Faint；　and　much　too　slow；　was　the　sound　of　the　waltz　it　played；　but　there　was　invitation；　allurement；　in　that　tune。　　The　little　model　turned　towards　it；　and　Hilary　looked　hard　at　her。　　The　girl　and　that　sound　together…there；　quite　plain；　was　the　music　he　had　heard　for　many　days；　like　a　man　lying　with　the　touch　of　fever　on　him。

〃Are　you　ready？〃　　said　Mr。　Stone。

The　little　model　dipped　her　pen　in　ink。　　Her　eyes　crept　towards　the　door；　where　Hilary　was　still　standing　with　the　same　expression　on　his　face。　　He　avoided　her　eyes；　and　went　up　to　Mr。　Stone。

〃Must　you　read　to…day；　sir？〃

Mr。　Stone　looked　at　him　with　anger。

〃Why　not？〃　　he　said。

〃You　are　hardly　strong　enough。〃

Mr。　Stone　raised　his　manuscript。

〃We　are　three　days　behind；〃　and　very　slowly　he　began　dictating：　〃'Bar…ba…rous　ha…bits　in　those　days；　such　as　the　custom　known　as　War…　'〃　　His　voice　died　away；　it　was　apparent　that　his　elbows；　leaning　on　the　desk；　alone　prevented　his　collapse。

Hilary　moved　the　chair；　and；　taking　him　beneath　the　arms；　lowered　him　gently　into　it。

Noticing　that　he　was　seated；　Mr。　Stone　raised　his　manuscript　and　read　on：　〃'…were　pursued　regardless　of　fraternity。　　It　was　as　though　a　herd　of　horn…ed　cattle　driven　through　green　pastures　to　that　Gate；　where　they　must　meet　with　certain　dissolution；　had　set　about　to　prematurely　gore　and　disembowel　each　other；　out　of　a　passionate　devotion　to　those　individual　shapes　which　they　were　so　soon　to　lose。　So　mentribe　against　tribe；　and　country　against　countryglared　across　the　valleys　with　their　ensanguined　eyes；　they　could　not　see　the　moonlit　wings；　or　feel　the　embalming　airs　of　brotherhood。'〃

Slower　and　slower　came　his　sentences；　and　as　the　last　word　died　away　he　was　heard　to　be　asleep；　breathing　through　a　tiny　hole　left　beneath　the　eave　of　his　moustache。　　Hilary；　who　had　waited　for　that　moment；　gently　put　the　manuscript　on　the　desk；　and　beckoned　to　the　girl。　　He　did　not　ask　her　to　his　study；　but　spoke　to　her　in　the　hall。

〃While　Mr。　Stone　is　like　this　he　misses　you。　　You　will　come；　then；　at　present；　please；　so　long　as　Hughs　is　in　prison。　　How　do　you　like　your　room？〃

The　little　model　answered　simply：　〃Not　very　much。〃

〃Why　not？〃

〃It's　lonely　there。　　I　shan't　mind；　now　I'm　coming　here　again。〃

〃Only　for　the　present；〃　was　all　Hilary　could　find　to　say。

The　little　model's　eyes　were　lowered。

〃Mrs。　Hughs'　baby's　to　be　buried　to…morrow；〃　she　said　suddenly。

〃Where？〃

〃In　Brompton　Cemetery。　　Mr。　Creed's　going。〃

〃What　time　is　the　funeral？〃

The　girl　looked　up　stealthily。

〃Mr。　Creed's　going　to　start　at　half…past　nine。〃

〃I　should　like　to　go　myself；〃　said　Hilary。

A　gleam　of　pleasure　passing　across　her　face　was　instantly　obscured　behind　the　cloud　of　her　stolidity。　　Then；　as　she　saw　Hilary　move　nearer　to　the　door；　her　lip　began　to　droop。

〃Well；　good…bye；〃　he　said。

The　little　model　flushed　and　quivered。　　'You　don't　even　look　at　me；'　she　seemed　to　say；　'you　haven't　spoken　kindly　to　me　once。'　And　suddenly　she　said　in　a　hard　voice：

〃Now　I　shan't　go　to　Mr。　Lennard's　any　more。〃

〃Oh；　then　you　have　been　to　him！〃

Triumph　at　attracting　his　attention；　fear　of　what　she　had　admitted；　supplication；　and　a　half…defiant　shameall　this　was　in　her　face。

〃Yes；〃　she　said。

Hilary　did　not　speak。

〃I　didn't　care　any　more　when　you　told　me　I　wasn't　to　come　here。〃

Still　Hilary　did　not　speak。

〃I　haven't　done　anything　wrong；〃　she　said；　with　tears　in　her　voice。

〃No；　no；〃　said　Hilary；　〃of　course　not！〃

The　little　model　choked。

〃It's　my　profession。〃

〃Yes；　yes；〃　said　Hilary；　〃it's　all　right。〃

〃I　don't　care　what　he　thinks；　I　won't　go　again　so　long　as　I　can　come　here。〃

Hilary　touched　her　shoulder。

〃Well；　well；〃　he　said；　and　opened　the　front　door。

The　little　model；　tremulous；　like'　a　flower　kissed　by　the　sun　after　rain；　went　out　with　a　light　in　her　eyes。

The　master　of　the　house　returned　to　Mr。　Stone。　　Long　he　sat　looking　at　the　old　man's　slumber。　　〃A　thinker　meditating　upon　action！〃　So　might　Hilary's　figure；　with　its　thin　face　resting　on　its　hand；　a　furrow　between　the　brows；　and　that　painful　smile；　have　been　entitled　in　any　catalogue　of　statues。




CHAPTER　XXX

FUNERAL　OF　A　BABY

Following　out　the　instinct　planted　so　deeply　in　human　nature　for　treating　with　the　utmost　care　and　at　great　expense　when　dead　those；　who；　when　alive；　have　been　served　with　careless　parsimony；　there　started　from　the　door　of　No。　1　in　Hound　Street　a　funeral　procession　of　three　four…wheeled　cabs。　The　first　bore　the　little　coffin；　on　which　lay　a　great　white　wreath　（gift　of　Cecilia　and　Thyme）。　　The　second　bore　Mrs。　Hughs；　her　son　Stanley；　and　Joshua　Creed。　　The　third　bore　Martin　Stone。　　In　the　first　cab　Silence　was　presiding　with　the　scent　of　lilies　over　him　who　in　his　short　life　had　made　so　little　noise；　the　small　grey　shadow　which　had　crept　so　quietly　into　being；　and；　taking　his　chance　when　he　was　not　noticed；　had　crept　so　quietly　out　again。　　Never　had　he　felt　so　restful；　so　much　at　home；　as　in　that　little　common　coffin；　washed　as　he　was　to　an　unnatural　whiteness；　and　wrapped　in　his　mother's　only　spare　sheet。　　Away　from　all　the　strife　of　men　he　was　Journeying　to　a　greater　peace。　　His　little　aloe…plant　had　flowered；　and；　between　the　open　windows　of　the　only　carriage　he　had　ever　been　inside；　the　windwhich；　who　knows？　he　had　perhaps　becomestirred　the　fronds　of　fern　and　the　flowers　of　his　funeral　wreath。　　Thus　he　was　going　from　that　world　where　all　men　were　his　brothers。

》From　the　second　cab　the　same　wind　was　rigidly　excluded；　and　there　was　silence；　broken　by　the　aged　butler's　breathing。　　Dressed　in　his　Newmarket　coat；　he　was　recalling　with　a　certain　sense　of　luxury　past；　journeys　in　four…wheeled　cabsoccasions　when；　seated　beside　a　box　corded　and　secured　with　sealing…wax；　he　had　taken　his　master's　plate　for　safety　to　the　bank；　occasions　when；　under　a　roof　piled　up　with　guns　and　boxes；　he　had　sat　holding　the　〃Honorable　Bateson's〃　dog；　occasions　when；　with