jeremy-第17部分

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him；　but　he　knew；　and；　as　the　days　passed；　rejoiced　in　his　power　and
his　might　and　his　glory。

Then　came　the　climax。　The　children　were　not　perfectly　sure　whether；
after　all；　Miss　Jones　might　not　tell　their　mother。　They　did　not　wish
this　to　happen；　and　so　long　as　this　calamity　was　possible　they　were
not　complete　masters　of　the　poor　lady。　Then　came　a　morning　when　they
had　been　extremely　naughty；　when　every　game　had　been　played　and
every　triumph　scored。　Miss　Jones；　almost　in　tears；　had　threatened
four　times　that　the　Powers　Above　should　be　informed。　Suddenly　Mrs。
Cole　entered。

〃Well；　Miss　Jones；　how　have　the　children　been　this　morning？　If
they've　been　good　I　have　a　little　treat　to　propose。〃

The　children　waited；　their　eyes　upon　their　governess。　Her　eyes
stared　back　upon　her　tormentors。　Her　hands　worked　together。　She
struggled。　Why　not　call　in　Mrs。　Cole's　authority　to　her　aid？　No；　she
knew　what　it　would　mean〃I'm　very　sorry；　Miss　Jones；　but　I　think　a
younger　governess；　perhaps〃

Her　throat　moved。

〃They've　been　very　good　this　morning；　Mrs。　Cole。〃

The　eyes　of　Mary　and　of　Jeremy　were　alight　with　triumph。

They　had　won　their　final　victory。




III


I　know　what　Miss　Jones　suffered　during　those　weeks。　She　was　not　an
old　lady　of　very　great　power　of　resistance；　and　it　must　have
positively　terrified　her　that　these　small　children　should　so
vindictively　hate　her。　She　could　not　have　seen　it　as　anything　but
hatred；　being　entirely　ignorant　of　children　and　the　strange　forces
to　whose　power　they　are　subject；　and　she　must　have　shivered　in　her
bedroom　at　the　dreariness　and　terror　of　the　prospect　before　her。
Many；　many　times　she　must　have　resolved　not　to　be　beaten；　and　many；
many　times　she　must　have　admitted　herself　beaten　as　badly　as　any　one
can　be。

Her　life　with　the　people　downstairs　was　not　intimate　enough；　nor
were　those　people　themselves　perceptive　enough　for　any　realisation
of　what　was　occurring　to　penetrate。

〃I　hope　you're　happy　with　the　children；　Miss　Jones；〃　once　or　twice
said　Mrs。　Cole。

〃Very；　thank　you；〃　said　Miss　Jones。

〃They're　good　children；　I　think；　although　parents　are　always
prejudiced；　of　course。　Jeremy　is　a　little　difficult　perhaps。　It's　so
hard　to　tell　what　he's　really　thinking。　You　find　him　a　quiet；
reserved　little　boy？〃

〃Very；〃　said　Miss　Jones。

〃In　a　little　while；　when　you　know　him　better；　he　will　come　out。　Only
you　have　to　let　him　take　his　time。　He　doesn't　like　to　be　forced〃

〃No；〃　said　Miss　Jones。

Meanwhile；　that　morning　descent　into　the　schoolroom　was　real　hell
for　her。　She　had　to　summon　up　her　courage；　walking　about　her
bedroom；　pressing　her　hands　together；　evoking　the　memory　of　her
magnificent　iron…souled　brother；　who　would；　she　knew；　despise　such
tremors。　If　only　she　could　have　discovered　some　remedy！　But
sentiment；　attempted　tyranny；　anger；　contempt；　at　all　these　things
they　laughed。　She　could　not　touch　them　anywhere。　And　she　saw　Jeremy
as　a　real　child　of　Evil　in　the　very　baldest　sense。　She　could　not
imagine　how　anyone　so　young　could　be　so　cruel；　so　heartless；　so
maliciously　clever　in　his　elaborate　machinations。　She　regarded　him
with　real　horror；　and　on　the　occasions　when　she　found　him　acting
kindly　towards　his　sisters　or　a　servant；　or　when　she　watched　him
discoursing　solemnly　to　Hamlet；　she　was　helplessly　puzzled；　and
decided　that　these　better　manifestations　were　simply　masks　to　hide
his　devilish　young　heart。　She　perceived　meanwhile　the　inevitable
crisis　slowly　approaching；　when　she　would　be　compelled　to　invite
Mrs。　Cole's　support。　That　would　mean　her　dismissal　and　a　hopeless
future。　There　was　no　one　to　whom　she　might　turn。　She　had　not　a
relation；　not　a　friendtoo　late　to　make　friends　now。

She　could　see　nothing　in　front　of　her　at　all。

The　crisis　did　come；　but　not　as　she　expected　it。

There　arrived　a　morning　when　the　dark　mist　outside　and　badly　made
porridge　inside　tempted　the　children　to　their　very　worst。　Miss　Jones
had　had　a　wakeful　night　struggling　with　neuralgia　and　her　own
hesitating　spirit。　The　children　had　lost　even　their　customary　half…
humourous；　half…contemptuous　reserve。　They　let　themselves　appear　for
what　they　wereinfant　savages　discontented　with　food；　weather　and
education。

I　will　not　detail　the　incidents　of　that　morning。　The　episodes　that
were　on　other　mornings　games　were　today　tortures。　There　was　the
Torture　of　Losing　Things；　the　Torture　of　Not　Hearing；　the　Torture　of
Many　Noises；　the　Torture　of　Sudden　Alarm；　the　Torture　of　Outright
Defiance；　the　Torture　of　Expressed　Contempt。　When　twelve　struck　and
the　children　were　free；　Miss　Jones　was　not　far　from　a　nervous　panic
that　can　be　called；　without　any　exaggeration；　incipient　madness。　The
neuralgia　tore　at　her　brain；　her　own　self…contempt　tore　at　her
heart；　her　baffled　impotence　bewildered　and　blinded　her。　She　did　not
leave　the　schoolroom　with　the　children；　but　went　to　the　broad
window…sill　and　sat　there　looking　out　into　the　dreary　prospect。
Then；　suddenly　for　no　reason　except　general　weakness　and　physical
and　spiritual　collapse　she　began　to　cry。

Jeremy　was　considered　to　have　a　cold；　and　was；　therefore；　not
permitted　to　accompany　his　mother　and　sisters　on　an　exciting
shopping　expedition；　which　would　certainly　lead　as　far　as　old
Poole's；　the　bookseller；　and　might　even　extend　to　Martins'；　the
pastrycook；　who　made　lemon　biscuits　next　door　to　the　Cathedral。　He
was；　therefore；　in　a　very　bad　temper　indeed　when　he　returned　sulkily
to　the　schoolroom。　He　stood　for　a　moment　there　unaware　that　there
was　anybody　in　the　room；　hesitating　as　to　whether　he　should　continue
〃A　Flat　Iron　for　a　Farthing〃　or　hunt　up　Hamlet。　Suddenly　he　heard
the　sound　of　sobbing。　He　turned　and　saw　Miss　Jones。

He　would　have　fled　had　flight　been　in　any　way　possible；　but　she　had
looked　up　and　seen　him；　and　her　sudden　arrested　sniff　held　them　both
there　as　though　by　some　third　invisible　power。　He　saw　that　she　was
crying；　he　saw　her　red　nose；　mottled　cheeks；　untidy　hair。　It　was　the
most　awful　moment　of　his　young　life。　He　had　never　seen　a　grown…up
person　cry　before；　he　had　no　idea　that　they　ever　did　cry。　He　had；
indeed；　never　realised　that　grown…up　persons　had　any　active
histories　at　all；　any　histories　in　the　sense　in　which　he　and　Mary
had　them。　They　were　all　a　background；　simply　a　background　that　blew
backwards　and　forwards　like　tapestry　according　to　one's　need　of
them。　His　torture　of　Miss　Jones　had　been　founded　on　no　sort　of
realisation　of　her　as　a　human　being；　she　had　been　a　silly　old　woman；
of　course；　but　just　as　the　battered　weather…beaten　Aunt　Sally　in　the
garden　was　a　silly　old　woman。

Her　crying　horrified；　terrified；　and　disgusted　him。　It　was　all　so
dreary；　the　horrible　weather　outside；　the　beginning　of　a　cold　in　his
head；　the　schoolroom　fire　almost　out；　everyone's　bad　temper；
including　his　own；　and　this　sudden　horrible　jumping…to…life　of　a
grown…up　human　being。　She；　meanwhile；　was　too　deeply　involved　now　in
the　waters　of　her　affliction　to　care　very　deeply　who　saw　her　or　what
anyone　said　to　her。　She　did　feel　dimly　that　she　ought　not　to　be
crying　in　front　of　a　small　boy　of　eight　years　old；　and　that　it　would
be　better　to　hide　herself　in　her　bedroom；　but　she　did　not　mindshe
COULD　not　mindher　neuralgia　was　too　bad。

〃It's　the　neuralgia　in　my　head；〃　she　said　in　a　muffled　confused
voice。　That　he　could　understand。　He　also　had　pains　in　his　head。　He
drew　closer　to　her；　flinging　a　longing　backward　look　at　the　door。
She　went　on　in　convulsed　tones：

〃It's　the　painawake　all　night；　and　the　lessons。　I　can't　make　them
attend；　they　learn　nothing。　They're　not　afraid　of　methey　hate　me。
I've　never　really　known　children　before〃

He　did　not　know　what　to　say。　Had　it　been　Mary　or　Helen　the　formula
would　have　been　simple。　He　moved　his　legs　restlessly　one　against　the
other。

Miss　Jones　went　on：

〃And　now；　of　course；　I　must　go。　It's　quite　impossible　for　me　to　stay
when　I　manage　so　badly〃　She　looked　up　and　suddenly　realised　that
it　was　truly　Jeremy。　〃You're　only　a　little　boy；　but　you　know　very
well　that　I　can't　manage　you。　And　then　where　am　I　to　go　to？　No　one
will　take　me　after　I've　been　such　a　failure。〃

The　colour　stole　into　his　cheeks。　He　was　immensely　proud。　No　grown…
up　person　had　ever　before　spoken　to　him　as　though　he　was　himself　a
grown…up　personalways　laughing　at　him　like　Uncle　Samuel；　or
talking　down　to　him　like　Aunt　Amy；　or　despising　him　like　Mr。
Jellybrand。　But　Miss　Jones　appealed　to　him　simply　as　one　grown…up　to
another。　Unfortunately　he　did　not　in　the　least　know　what　to　say。　The
only　thing　he　could　think　of　at　the　moment　was：　〃You　can　have　my
handkerchief；　if　you　like。　It's　pretty　clean〃

But　she　went　on：　〃If　my　brother　had　been　alive　he　would　have　advised
me。　He　was　a　splendid　man。　He　rowed　in　his　college　boat　when　he　was
at　Cambridge；　but　that；　of　course；　was　forty　years　ago。　He　could
keep　children　in　order。　I　thought　it　would　be　so　easy。　Perhaps　if　my
health　had　been　better　it　wouldn't　have　been　so　hard。〃

〃Do　your　pains　come　often？〃　asked　Jeremy。

〃Yes。　They're　very　bad。〃

〃I　have　them；　too；〃　said　Jeremy。　〃It's　generally；　I　expect；　because
I　eat　too　muchat　least；　the　Jampot　used　to　say　so。　They're　in　my
head　sometimes