man of property-第46部分

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And　he　went　to　bed　with　the　certainty　that　Bosinney　was　in　love　with　his　wife。

The　summer　night　was　hot；　so　hot　and　still　that　through　every　opened　window　came　in　but　hotter　air。　　For　long　hours　he　lay　listening　to　her　breathing。

She　could　sleep；　but　he　must　lie　awake。　　And；　lying　awake；　he　hardened　himself　to　play　the　part　of　the　serene　and　trusting　husband。

In　the　small　hours　he　slipped　out　of　bed；　and　passing　into　his　dressing…room；　leaned　by　the　open　window。

He　could　hardly　breathe。

A　night　four　years　ago　came　back　to　himthe　night　but　one　before　his　marriage；　as　hot　and　stifling　as　this。

He　remembered　how　he　had　lain　in　a　long　cane　chair　in　the　window　of　his　sitting…room　off　Victoria　Street。　　Down　below　in　a　side　street　a　man　had　banged　at　a　door；　a　woman　had　cried　out；　he　remembered；　as　though　it　were　now；　the　sound　of　the　scuffle；　the　slam　of　the　door；　the　dead　silence　that　followed。　　And　then　the　early　water…cart；　cleansing　the　reek　of　the　streets；　had　approached　through　the　strange…seeming；　useless　lamp…light；　he　seemed　to　hear　again　its　rumble；　nearer　and　nearer；　till　it　passed　and　slowly　died　away。

He　leaned　far　out　of　the　dressing…room　window　over　the　little　court　below；　and　saw　the　first　light　spread。　　The　outlines　of　dark　walls　and　roofs　were　blurred　for　a　moment；　then　came　out　sharper　than　before。

He　remembered　how　that　other　night　he　had　watched　the　lamps　paling　all　the　length　of　Victoria　Street；　how　he　had　hurried　on　his　clothes　and　gone　down　into　the　street；　down　past　houses　and　squares；　to　the　street　where　she　was　staying；　and　there　had　stood　and　looked　at　the　front　of　the　little　house；　as　still　and　grey　as　the　face　of　a　dead　man。

And　suddenly　it　shot　through　his　mind；　like　a　sick　man's　fancy：　What's　he　doing？that　fellow　who　haunts　me；　who　was　here　this　evening；　who's　in　love　with　my　wifeprowling　out　there；　perhaps；　looking　for　her　as　I　know　he　was　looking　for　her　this　afternoon；　watching　my　house　now；　for　all　I　can　tell！

He　stole　across　the　landing　to　the　front　of　the　house；　stealthily　drew　aside　a　blind；　and　raised　a　window。

The　grey　light　clung　about　the　trees　of　the　square；　as　though　Night；　like　a　great　downy　moth；　had　brushed　them　with　her　wings。　The　lamps　were　still　alight；　all　pale；　but　not　a　soul　stirredno　living　thing　in　sight

Yet　suddenly；　very　faint；　far　off　in　the　deathly　stillness；　he　heard　a　cry　writhing；　like　the　voice　of　some　wandering　soul　barred　out　of　heaven；　and　crying　for　its　happiness。　　There　it　was　againagain！　　Soames　shut　the　window；　shuddering。

Then　he　thought：　'Ah！　　it's　only　the　peacocks；　across　the　water。'




CHAPTER　XII

JUNE　PAYS　SOME　CALLS



Jolyon　stood　in　the　narrow　hall　at　Broadstairs；　inhaling　that　odour　of　oilcloth　and　herrings　which　permeates　all　respectable　seaside　lodging…houses。　　On　a　chaira　shiny　leather　chair；　displaying　its　horsehair　through　a　hole　in　the　top　left…hand　cornerstood　a　black　despatch　case。　　This　he　was　filling　with　papers；　with　the　Times；　and　a　bottle　of　Eau…de　Cologne。　　He　had　meetings　that　day　of　the　'Globular　Gold　Concessions'　and　the　'New　Colliery　Company；　Limited；'　to　which　he　was　going　up；　for　he　never　missed　a　Board；　to　'miss　a　Board'　would　be　one　more　piece　of　evidence　that　he　was　growing　old；　and　this　his　jealous　Forsyte　spirit　could　not　bear。

His　eyes；　as　he　filled　that　black　despatch　case；　looked　as　if　at　any　moment　they　might　blaze　up　with　anger。　　So　gleams　the　eye　of　a　schoolboy；　baited　by　a　ring　of　his　companions；　but　he　controls　himself；　deterred　by　the　fearful　odds　against　him。　　And　old　Jolyon　controlled　himself；　keeping　down；　with　his　masterful　restraint　now　slowly　wearing　out；　the　irritation　fostered　in　him　by　the　conditions　of　his　life。

He　had　received　from　his　son　an　unpractical　letter；　in　which　by　rambling　generalities　the　boy　seemed　trying　to　get　out　of　answering　a　plain　question。　　'I've　seen　Bosinney；'　he　said；　'he　is　not　a　criminal。　　The　more　I　see　of　people　the　more　I　am　convinced　that　they　are　never　good　or　badmerely　comic；　or　pathetic。　　You　probably　don't　agree　with　me！'

Old　Jolyon　did　not；　he　considered　it　cynical　to　so　express　oneself；　he　had　not　yet　reached　that　point　of　old　age　when　even　Forsytes；　bereft　of　those　illusions　and　principles　which　they　have　cherished　carefully　for　practical　purposes　but　never　believed　in；　bereft　of　all　corporeal　enjoyment；　stricken　to　the　very　heart　by　having　nothing　left　to　hope　forbreak　through　the　barriers　of　reserve　and　say　things　they　would　never　have　believed　themselves　capable　of　saying。

Perhaps　he　did　not　believe　in　'goodness'　and　'badness'　any　more　than　his　son；　but　as　he　would　have　said：　He　didn't　knowcouldn't　tell；　there　might　be　something　in　it；　and　why；　by　an　unnecessary　expression　of　disbelief；　deprive　yourself　of　possible　advantage？

Accustomed　to　spend　his　holidays　among　the　mountains；　though　（like　a　true　Forsyte）　he　had　never　attempted　anything　too　adventurous　or　too　foolhardy；　he　had　been　passionately　fond　of　them。　　And　when　the　wonderful　view　（mentioned　in　Baedeker　'fatiguing　but　repaying'was　disclosed　to　him　after　the　effort　of　the　climb；　he　had　doubtless　felt　the　existence　of　some　great；　dignified　principle　crowning　the　chaotic　strivings；　the　petty　precipices；　and　ironic　little　dark　chasms　of　life。　　This　was　as　near　to　religion；　perhaps；　as　his　practical　spirit　had　ever　gone。

But　it　was　many　years　since　he　had　been　to　the　mountains。　　He　had　taken　June　there　two　seasons　running；　after　his　wife　died；　and　had　realized　bitterly　that　his　walking　days　were　over。

To　that　old　mountaingiven　confidence　in　a　supreme　order　of　things　he　had　long　been　a　stranger。

He　knew　himself　to　be　old；　yet　he　felt　young；　and　this　troubled　him。　　It　troubled　and　puzzled　him；　too；　to　think　that　he；　who　had　always　been　so　careful；　should　be　father　and　grandfather　to　such　as　seemed　born　to　disaster。　　He　had　nothing　to　say　against　Jo　who　could　say　anything　against　the　boy；　an　amiable　chap？but　his　position　was　deplorable；　and　this　business　of　June's　nearly　as　bad。　　It　seemed　like　a　fatality；　and　a　fatality　was　one　of　those　things　no　man　of　his　character　could　either　understand　or　put　up　with。

In　writing　to　his　son　he　did　not　really　hope　that　anything　would　come　of　it。　　Since　the　ball　at　Roger's　he　had　seen　too　clearly　how　the　land　layhe　could　put　two　and　two　together　quicker　than　most　menand；　with　the　example　of　his　own　son　before　his　eyes；　knew　better　than　any　Forsyte　of　them　all　that　the　pale　flame　singes　men's　wings　whether　they　will　or　no。

In　the　days　before　June's　engagement；　when　she　and　Mrs。　Soames　were　always　together；　he　had　seen　enough　of　Irene　to　feel　the　spell　she　cast　over　men。　　She　was　not　a　flirt；　not　even　a　coquettewords　dear　to　the　heart　of　his　generation；　which　loved　to　define　things　by　a　good；　broad；　inadequate　wordbut　she　was　dangerous。　　He　could　not　say　why。　　Tell　him　of　a　quality　innate　in　some　womena　seductive　power　beyond　their　own　control！　　He　would　but　answer：　'Humbug！'　　She　was　dangerous；　and　there　was　an　end　of　it。　　He　wanted　to　close　his　eyes　to　that　affair。　　If　it　was；　it　was；　be　did　not　want　to　hear　any　more　about　ithe　only　wanted　to　save　June's　position　and　her　peace　of　mind。　　He　still　hoped　she　might　once　more　become　a　comfort　to　himself。

And　so　he　had　written。　　He　got　little　enough　out　of　the　answer。　As　to　what　young　Jolyon　had　made　of　the　interview；　there　was　practically　only　the　queer　sentence：　'I　gather　that　he's　in　the　stream。'　The　stream！　　What　stream？　　What　was　this　new…fangled　way　of　talking？

He　sighed；　and　folded　the　last　of　the　papers　under　the　flap　of　the　bag；　he　knew　well　enough　what　was　meant。

June　came　out　of　the　dining…room；　and　helped　him　on　with　his　summer　coat。　　From　her　costume；　and　the　expression　of　her　little　resolute　face；　he　saw　at　once　what　was　coming。

〃I'm　going　with　you；〃　she　said。

〃Nonsense；　my　dear；　I　go　straight　into　the　City。　　I　can't　have　you　racketting　about！〃

〃I　must　see　old　Mrs。　Smeech。〃

〃Oh；　your　precious　'lame　ducks！〃　grumbled　out　old　Jolyon。　　He　did　not　believe　her　excuse；　but　ceased　his　opposition。　　There　was　no　doing　anything　with　that　pertinacity　of　hers。

At　Victoria　he　put　her　into　the　carriage　which　had　been　ordered　for　himselfa　characteristic　action；　for　he　had　no　petty　selfishnesses。

〃Now；　don't　you　go　tiring　yourself；　my　darling；〃　he　said；　and　took　a　cab　on　into　the　city。

June　went　first　to　a　back…street　in　Paddington；　where　Mrs。　Smeech；　her　'lame　duck；'　livedan　aged　person；　connected　with　the　charring　interest；　but　after　half　an　hour　spent　in　hearing　her　habitually　lamentable　recital；　and　dragooning　her　into　temporary　comfort；　she　went　on　to　Stanhope　Gate。　　The　great　house　was　closed　and　dark。

She　had　decided　to　learn　something　at　all　costs。　　It　was　better　to　face　the　worst；　and　have　it　over。　　And　this　was　her　plan：　To　go　first　to　Phil's　aunt；　Mrs。　Baynes；　and；　failing　information　there；　to　Irene　herself。　　She　had　no　clear　notion　of　what　she　would　gain　by　these　visits。

At　three　o'clock　she　was　in　Lowndes　Square。　　With　a　woman's　instinct　when　trouble　is　to　be　faced；　she　had　put　on　her　best　frock；　and　went　to　the　battle　with　a　glance　as　courageous　as　old　Jolyon's　itself。　　Her　tremors　had　passed　into　eagerness。

Mrs。　Baynes；