fraternity-第52部分

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She　sank　down　again；　burying　her　face　in　the　dark　beech…mat。　　The　moonlight　had　passed　on。　　Her　voice　came　faint　and　stiffed；　as　out　of　the　tomb　of　faith。　　〃I'm　no　good。　　I　never　shall　be。　　I'm　as　bad　as　mother！〃

But　to　Martin　there　was　only　the　scent　of　her　hair。

〃No；〃　murmured　Thyme's　voice；　〃I'm　only　fit　for　miserable　Art。。。。　I'm　only　fit　fornothing！〃

They　were　so　close　together　on　the　dark　beech　mat　that　their　bodies　touched；　and　a　longing　to　clasp　her　in　his　arms　came　over　him。

〃I'm　a　selfish　beast！〃　moaned　the　smothered　voice。　　〃I　don't　really　care　for　all　these　peopleI　only　care　because　they're　ugly　for　me　to　see！〃

Martin　reached　his　hand　out　to　her　hair。　　If　she　had　shrunk　away　he　would　have　seized　her；　but　as　though　by　instinct　she　let　it　rest　there。　　And　at　her　sudden　stillness；　strange　and　touching；　Martin's　quick　passion　left　him。　　He　slipped　his　arm　round　her　and　raised　her　up；　as　if　she　had　been　a　child；　and　for　a　long　time　sat　listening　with　a　queer　twisted　smile　to　the　moanings　of　her　lost　illusions。

The　dawn　found　them　still　sitting　there　against　the　bole　of　the　beech…tree。　　Her　lips　were　parted；　the　tears　had　dried　on　her　sleeping　face；　pillowed　against　his　shoulder；　while　he　still　watched　her　sideways　with　the　ghost　of　that　twisted　smile。

And　beyond　the　grey　water；　like　some　tired　wanton；　the　moon　in　an　orange　hood　was　stealing　down　to　her　rest　between　the　trees。




CHAPTER　XXXVI

STEPHEN　SIGNS　CHEQUES

Cecilia　received　the　mystic　document　containing　these　words　〃Am　quite　all　right。　　Address；　598；　Euston　Road；　three　doors　off　Martin。　Letter　follows　explaining。　　Thyme；〃　she　had　not　even　realised　her　little　daughter's　departure。　　She　went　up　to　Thyme's　room　at　once；　and　opening　all　the　drawers　and　cupboards；　stared　into　them　one　by　one。　　The　many　things　she　saw　there　allayed　the　first　pangs　of　her　disquiet。

'She　has　only　taken　one　little　trunk；'　she　thought；　'and　left　all　her　evening　frocks。'

This　act　of　independence　alarmed　rather　than　surprised　her；　such　had　been　her　sense　of　the　unrest　in　the　domestic　atmosphere　during　the　last　month。　　Since　the　evening　when　she　had　found　Thyme　in　foods　of　tears　because　of　the　Hughs'　baby；　her　maternal　eyes　had　not　failed　to　notice　something　new　in　the　child's　demeanoura　moodiness；　an　air　almost　of　conspiracy；　together　with　an　emphatic　increase　of　youthful　sarcasm：　Fearful　of　probing　deep；　she　had　sought　no　confidence；　nor　had　she　divulged　her　doubts　to　Stephen。

Amongst　the　blouses　a　sheet　of　blue　ruled　paper；　which　had　evidently　escaped　from　a　notebook；　caught　her　eye。　　Sentences　were　scrawled　on　it　in　pencil。　　Cecilia　read：　〃That　poor　little　dead　thing　was　so　grey　and　pinched；　and　I　seemed　to　realise　all　of　a　sudden　how　awful　it　is　for　them。　　I　mustI　mustI　will　do　something！〃

Cecilia　dropped　the　sheet　of　paper；　her　hand　was　trembling。　　There　was　no　mystery　in　that　departure　now；　and　Stephen's　words　came　into　her　mind：　〃It's　all　very　well　up　to　a　certain　point；　and　nobody　sympathises　with　them　more　than　I　do；　but　after　that　it　becomes　destructive　of　all　comfort；　and　that　does　no　good　to　anyone。〃

The　sound　sense　of　those　words　had　made　her　feel　queer　when　they　were　spoken；　they　were　even　more　sensible　than　she　had　thought。　　Did　her　little　daughter；　so　young　and　pretty；　seriously　mean　to　plunge　into　the　rescue　work　of　dismal　slums；　to　cut　herself　adrift　from　sweet　sounds　and　scents　and　colours；　from　music　and　art；　from　dancing；　flowers；　and　all　that　made　life　beautiful？　　The　secret　forces　of　fastidiousness；　an　inborn　dread　of　the　fanatical；　and　all　her　real　ignorance　of　what　such　a　life　was　like；　rose　in　Cecilia　with　a　force　which　made　her　feel　quite　sick。　　Better　that　she　herself　should　do　this　thing　than　that　her　own　child　should　be　deprived　of　air　and　light　and　all　the　just　environment　of　her　youth　and　beauty。　　'She　must　come　backshe　must　listen　to　me！'　she　thought。　　'We　will　begin　together；　we　will　start　a　nice　little　creche　of　our　own；　orperhaps　Mrs。　Tallents　Smallpeace　could　find　us　some　regular　work　on　one　of　her　committees。'

Then　suddenly　she　conceived　a　thought　which　made　her　blood　run　positively　cold。　　What　if　it　were　a　matter　of　heredity？　　What　if　Thyme　had　inherited　her　grandfather's　single…mindedness？　　Martin　was　giving　proof　of　it。　　Things；　she　knew；　often　skipped　a　generation　and　then　set　in　again。　　Surely；　surely；　it　could　not　have　done　that！　With　longing；　yet　with　dread；　she　waited　for　the　sound　of　Stephen's　latchkey。　　It　came　at　its　appointed　time。

Even　in　her　agitation　Cecilia　did　not　forget　to　spare　him；　all　she　could。　　She　began　by　giving　him　a　kiss；　and　then　said　casually：　〃Thyme　has　got　a　whim　into　her　head。〃

〃What　whim？〃

〃It's　rather　what　you　might　expect；〃　faltered　Cecilia；　〃from　her　going　about　so　much　with　Martin。〃

Stephen's　face　assumed　at　once　an　air　of　dry　derision；　there　was　no　love　lost　between　him　and　his　young　nephew…in…law。

〃The　Sanitist？〃　　he　said；　〃ah！　Well？〃

〃She　has　gone　off　to　do　work…some　place　in　the　Euston　Road。　　I've　had　a　telegram。　　Oh；　and　I　found　this；　Stephen。〃

She　held　out　to　him　half…heartedly　the　two　bits　of　paper；　one　pinkish…brown；　the　other　blue。　　Stephen　saw　that　she　was　trembling。　He　took　them　from　her；　read　them；　and　looked　at　her　again。　　He　had　a　real　affection　for　his　wife；　and　the　tradition　of　consideration　for　other　people's　feelings　was　bred　in　him；　so　that　at　this　moment；　so　vitally　disturbing；　the　first　thing　he　did　was　to　put　his　hand　on　her　shoulder　and　give　it　a　reassuring　squeeze。　　But　there　was　also　in　Stephen　a　certain　primitive　virility；　pickled；　it　is　true；　at　Cambridge；　and　in　the　Law　Courts　dried；　but　still　preserving　something　of　its　possessive　and　assertive　quality；　and　the　second　thing　he　did　was　to　say；　〃No；　I'm　damned！〃

In　that　little　sentence　lay　the　whole　psychology　of　his　attitude　towards　this　situation　and　all　the　difference　between　two　classes　of　the　population。　　Mr。　Purcey　would　undoubtedly　have　said：　〃Well；　I'm　damned！〃　Stephen；　by　saying　〃No；　I'm　damned！〃　betrayed　that　before　he　could　be　damned　he　had　been　obliged　to　wrestle　and　contend　with　something；　and　Cecilia；　who　was　always　wrestling　too；　knew　this　something　to　be　that　queer　new　thing；　a　Social　Conscience；　the　dim　bogey　stalking　pale　about　the　houses　of　those　who；　through　the　accidents　of　leisure　or　of　culture；　had　once　left　the　door　open　to　the　suspicion：　Is　it　possible　that　there　is　a　class　of　people　besides　my　own；　or　am　I　dreaming？　　Happy　the　millions；　poor　or　rich；　not　yet　condemned　to　watch　the　wistful　visiting　or　hear　the　husky　mutter　of　that　ghost；　happy　in　their　homes；　blessed　by　a　less　disquieting　god。　Such　were　Cecilia's　inner　feelings。

Even　now　she　did　not　quite　plumb　the　depths　of　Stephen's；　she　felt　his　struggle　with　the　ghost；　she　felt　and　admired　his　victory。　　What　she　did　not；　could　not；　perhaps；　realise；　was　the　precise　nature　of　the　outrage　inflicted　on　him　by　Thyme's　action。　　With　herbeing　a　womanthe　matter　was　more　practical；　she　did　not　grasp；　had　never　grasped；　the　architectural　nature　of　Stephen's　mindhow　really　hurt　he　was　by　what　did　not　seem　to　him　in　due　and　proper　order。

He　spoke：　〃Why　on　earth；　if　she　felt　like　that；　couldn't　she　have　gone　to　work　in　the　ordinary　way？　　She　could　have　put　herself　in　connection　with　some　proper　charitable　societyI　should　never　have　objected　to　that。　　It's　all　that　young　Sanitary　idiot！〃

〃I　believe；〃　Cecilia　faltered；　〃that　Martin's　is　a　society。　　It's　a　kind　of　medical　Socialism；　or　something　of　that　sort。　　He　has　tremendous　faith　in　it。〃

Stephen's　lip　curled。

〃He　may　have　as　much　faith　as　he　likes；〃　he　said；　with　the　restraint　that　was　one　of　his　best　qualities；　〃so　long　as　he　doesn't　infect　my　daughter　with　it。〃

Cecilia　said　suddenly：　〃Oh！　　what　are　we　to　do；　Stephen？　　Shall　I　go　over　there　to…night？〃

As　one　may　see　a　shadow　pass　down　on　a　cornfield；　so　came　the　cloud　on　Stephen's　face。　　It　was　as　though　he　had　not　realised　till　then　the　full　extent　of　what　this　meant。　　For　a　minute　he　was　silent。　〃Better　wait　for　her　letter；〃　he　said　at　last。　　〃He's　her　cousin；　after　all；　and　Mrs。　Grundy's　deadin　the　Euston　Road；　at　all　events。〃

So；　trying　to　spare　each　other　all　they　could　of　anxiety；　and　careful　to　abstain　from　any　hint　of　trouble　before　the　servants；　they　dined　and　went　to　bed。

At　that　hour　between　the　night　and　morning；　when　man's　vitality　is　lowest；　and　the　tremors　of　his　spirit；　like　birds　of　ill　omen；　fly　round　and　round　him；　beating　their　long　plumes　against　his　cheeks；　Stephen　woke。

It　was　very　still。　　A　bar　of　pearly…grey　dawn　showed　between　the　filmy　curtains；　which　stirred　with　a　regular；　faint　movement；　like　the　puffing　of　a　sleeper's　lips。　　The　tide　of　the　wind；　woven　in　Mr。　Stone's　fancy　of　the　souls　of　men；　was　at　low　ebb。　　Feebly　it　fanned　the　houses　and　hovels　where　the　myriad　forms　of　men　lay　sleeping；　unconscious　of　its　breath；　so　faint　life's　pulse；　that　men　and　shadows　seemed　for　that　brief　moment　mingled　in　the　town's　sleep。　Over　the　million　varied　roofs；　over　the　hundred　million　little　different　shapes　of　men　and　things；　the　wind's　quiet；　visiting　wand　had　stilled　all　into　the　wonder　state　of　nothingness；　when　life　is　passing　into　death；　death　into　new　li