man of property-第8部分

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　that　he　had　a　little　house　in　Wistaria　Avenue　with　a　garden；　and　took　his　wife　about　with；　him　into　societya　queer　sort　of　society；　no　doubt　and　that　they　had　two　childrenthe　little　chap　they　called　Jolly　（considering　the　circumstances　the　name　struck　him　as　cynical；　and　old　Jolyon　both　feared　and　disliked　cynicism）；　and　a　girl　called　Holly；　born　since　the　marriage。　　Who　could　tell　what　his　son's　circumstances　really　were？　　He　had　capitalized　the　income　he　had　inherited　from　his　mother's　father　and　joined　Lloyd's　as　an　underwriter；　he　painted　pictures；　toowater…colours。　　Old　Jolyon　knew　this；　for　he　had　surreptitiously　bought　them　from　time　to　time；　after　chancing　to　see　his　son's　name　signed　at　the　bottom　of　a　representation　of　the　river　Thames　in　a　dealer's　window。　　He　thought　them　bad；　and　did　not　hang　them　because　of　the　signature；　he　kept　them　locked　up　in　a　drawer。

In　the　great　opera…house　a　terrible　yearning　came　on　him　to　see　his　son。　　He　remembered　the　days　when　he　had　been　wont　to　slide　him；　in　a　brown　holland　suit；　to　and　fro　under　the　arch　of　his　legs；　the　times　when　he　ran　beside　the　boy's　pony；　teaching　him　to　ride；　the　day　he　first　took　him　to　school。　　He　had　been　a　loving；　lovable　little　chap！　　After　he　went　to　Eton　he　had　acquired；　perhaps；　a　little　too　much　of　that　desirable　manner　which　old　Jolyon　knew　was　only　to　be　obtained　at　such　places　and　at　great　expense；　but　he　had　always　been　companionable。　　Always　a　companion；　even　after　Cambridgea　little　far　off；　perhaps；　owing　to　the　advantages　he　had　received。　　Old　Jolyon's　feeling　towards　our　public　schools　and　'Varsities　never　wavered；　and　he　retained　touchingly　his　attitude　of　admiration　and　mistrust　towards　a　system　appropriate　to　the　highest　in　the　land；　of　which　he　had　not　himself　　been　privileged　to　partake。。。。　　Now　that　June　had　gone　and　left；　or　as　good　as　left　him；　it　would　have　been　a　comfort　to　see　his　son　again。　　Guilty　of　this　treason　to　his　family；　his　principles；　his　class；　old　Jolyon　fixed　his　eyes　on　the　singer。　　A　poor　thinga　wretched　poor　thing！　　And　the　Florian　a　perfect　stick！

It　was　over。　　They　were　easily　pleased　nowadays！

In　the　crowded　street　he　snapped　up　a　cab　under　the　very　nose　of　a　stout　and　much　younger　gentleman；　who　had　already　assumed　it　to　be　his　own。　　His　route　lay　through　Pall　Mall；　and　at　the　corner；　instead　of　going　through　the　Green　Park；　the　cabman　turned　to　drive　up　St。　　James's　Street。　　Old　Jolyon　put　his　hand　through　the　trap　（he　could　not　bear　being　taken　out　of　his　way）；　in　turning；　however；　he　found　himself　opposite　the　'Hotch　Potch；　'　and　the　yearning　that　had　been　secretly　with　him　the　whole　evening　prevailed。　　He　called　to　the　driver　to　stop。　　He　would　go　in　and　ask　if　Jo　still　belonged　there。

He　went　in。　　The　hall　looked　exactly　as　it　did　when　he　used　to　dine　there　with　Jack　Herring；　and　they　had　the　best　cook　in　London；　and　he　looked　round　with　the　shrewd；　straight　glance　that　had　caused　him　all　his　life　to　be　better　served　than　most　men。

〃Mr。　Jolyon　Forsyte　still　a　member　here？〃

〃Yes；　sir；　in　the　Club　now；　sir。　　What　name？〃

Old　Jolyon　was　taken　aback。

〃His　father；〃　he　said。

And　having　spoken；　he　took　his　stand；　back　to　the　fireplace。

Young　Jolyon；　on　the　point　of　leaving　the　Club；　had　put　on　his　hat；　and　was　in　the　act　of　crossing　the　hall；　as　the　porter　met　him。　　He　was　no　longer　young；　with　hair　going　grey；　and　facea　narrower　replica　of　his　father's；　with　the　same　large　drooping　moustachedecidedly　worn。　　He　turned　pale。　　This　meeting　was　terrible　after　all　those　years；　for　nothing　in　the　world　was　so　terrible　as　a　scene。　　They　met　and　crossed　hands　without　a　word。　Then；　with　a　quaver　in　his　voice；　the　father　said：

〃How　are　you；　my　boy？〃

The　son　answered：

〃How　are　you；　Dad？〃

Old　Jolyon's　hand　trembled　in　its　thin　lavender　glove。

If　you're　going　my　way；〃　he　said；　〃I　can　give　you　a　lift。〃

And　as　though　in　the　habit　of　taking　each　other　home　every　night　they　went　out　and　stepped　into　the　cab。

To　old　Jolyon　it　seemed　that　his　son　had　grown。　　'More　of　a　man　altogether；'　was　his　comment。　　Over　the　natural　amiability　of　that　son's　face　had　come　a　rather　sardonic　mask；　as　though　he　had　found　in　the　circumstances　of　his　life　the　necessity　for　armour。　The　features　were　certainly　those　of　a　Forsyte；　but　the　expression　was　more　the　introspective　look　of　a　student　or　philosopher。　He　had　no　doubt　been　obliged　to　look　into　himself　a　good　deal　in　the　course　of　those　fifteen　years。

To　young　Jolyon　the　first　sight　of　his　father　was　undoubtedly　a　shockhe　looked　so　worn　and　old。　　But　in　the　cab　he　seemed　hardly　to　have　changed；　still　having　the　calm　look　so　well　remembered；　still　being　upright　and；　keen…eyed。

〃You　look　well；　Dad。〃

〃Middling；〃　old　Jolyon　answered。

He　was　the　prey　of　an　anxiety　that　he　found　he　must　put　into　words。　　Having　got　his　son　back　like　this；　he　felt　he　must　know　what　was　his　financial　position。

〃Jo；〃　he　said；　〃I　should　like　to　hear　what　sort　of　water　you're　in。　　I　suppose　you're　in　debt？〃

He　put　it　this　way　that　his　son　might　find　it　easier　to　confess。

Young　Jolyon　answered　in　his　ironical　voice：

〃No！　　I'm　not　in　debt！〃

Old　Jolyon　saw　that　he　was　angry；　and　touched　his　hand。　　He　had　run　a　risk。　　It　was　worth　it；　however；　and　Jo　had　never　been　sulky　with　him。　　They　drove　on；　without　speaking　again；　to　Stanhope　Gate。　　Old　Jolyon　invited　him　in；　but　young　Jolyon　shook　his　head。

〃June's　not　here；〃　said　his　father　hastily：　〃went　of　to…day　on　a　visit。　　I　suppose　you　know　that　she's　engaged　to　be　married？〃

〃Already？〃　murmured　young　Jolyon'。

Old　Jolyon　stepped　out；　and；　in　paying　the　cab　fare；　for　the　first　time　in　his　life　gave　the　driver　a　sovereign　in　mistake　for　a　shilling。

Placing　the　coin　in　his　mouth；　the　cabman　whipped　his　horse　secretly　on　the　underneath　and　hurried　away。

Old　Jolyon　turned　the　key　softly　in　the　lock；　pushed　open　the　door；　and　beckoned。　　His　son　saw　him　gravely　hanging　up　his　coat；　with　an　expression　on　his　face　like　that　of　a　boy　who　intends　to　steal　cherries。

The　door　of　the　dining…room　was　open；　the　gas　turned　low；　a　spirit…urn　hissed　on　a　tea…tray；　and　close　to　it　a　cynical　looking　cat　had　fallen　asleep　on　the　dining…table。　　Old　Jolyon　'shoo'd'　her　off　at　once。　　The　incident　was　a　relief　to　his　feelings；　he　rattled　his　opera　hat　behind　the　animal。

〃She's　got　fleas；〃　he　said；　following　her　out　of　the　room。　Through　the　door　in　the　hall　leading　to　the　basement　he　called　〃Hssst！〃　several　times；　as　though　assisting　the　cat's　departure；　till　by　some　strange　coincidence　the　butler　appeared　below。

〃You　can　go　to　bed；　Parfitt；〃　said　old　Jolyon。　　〃I　will　lock　up　and　put　out。〃

When　he　again　entered　the　dining…room　the　cat　unfortunately　preceded　him；　with　her　tail　in　the　air；　proclaiming　that　she　had　seen　through　this　manouevre　for　suppressing　the　butler　from　the　first。。。。

A　fatality　had　dogged　old　Jolyon's　domestic　stratagems　all　his　life。

Young　Jolyon　could　not　help　smiling。　　He　was　very　well　versed　in　irony；　and　everything　that　evening　seemed　to　him　ironical。　　The　episode　of　the　cat；　the　announcement　of　his　own　daughter's　engagement。　　So　he　had　no　more　part　or　parcel　in　her　than　he　had　in　the　Puss！　　And　the　poetical　justice　of　this　appealed　to　him。

〃What　is　June　like　now？〃　he　asked。

〃She's　a　little　thing；〃　returned　old　Jolyon；　they　say　she's　like　me；　but　that's　their　folly。　　She's　more　like　your　motherthe　same　eyes　and　hair。〃

〃Ah！　　and　she　is　pretty？〃

Old　Jolyon　was　too　much　of　a　Forsyte　to　praise　anything　freely；　especially　anything　for　which　he　had　a　genuine　admiration。

〃Not　bad　lookinga　regular　Forsyte　chin。　　It'll　be　lonely　here　when　she's　gone；　Jo。〃

The　look　on　his　face　again　gave　young　Jolyon　the　shock　he　had　felt　on　first　seeing　his　father。

〃What　will　you　do　with　yourself；　Dad？　　I　suppose　she's　wrapped　up　in　him？〃

〃Do　with　myself？〃　repeated　old　Jolyon　with　an　angry　break　in　his　voice。　　〃It'll　be　miserable　work　living　here　alone。　　I　don't　know　how　it's　to　end。　　I　wish　to　goodness。。。。〃　　He　checked　himself；　and　added：　〃The　question　is；　what　had　I　better　do　with　this　house？〃

Young　Jolyon　looked　round　the　room。　　It　was　peculiarly　vast　and　dreary；　decorated　with　the　enormous　pictures　of　still　life　that　he　remembered　as　a　boysleeping　dogs　with　their　noses　resting　on　bunches　of　carrots；　together　with　onions　and　grapes　lying　side　by　side　in　mild　surprise。　　The　house　was　a　white　elephant；　but　he　could　not　conceive　of　his　father　living　in　a　smaller　place；　and　all　the　more　did　it　all　seem　ironical。

In　his　great　chair　with　the　book…rest　sat　old　Jolyon；　the　figurehead　of　his　family　and　class　and　creed；　with　his　white　head　and　dome…like　forehead；　the　representative　of　moderation；　and　order；　and　love　of　property。　　As　lonely　an　old　man　as　there　was　in　London。

There　he　sat　in　the　gloomy　comfort　of　the　room；　a　puppet　in　the　power　of　great　forces　that　cared　nothing　for　family　or　class　or　creed；　but　moved；　machine…like；　with　dread　processes　to　inscrutable　ends。　　This　was　how　it　struck　young　Jolyon；　who　had　the　impersonal　eye。

The　poor　old　Dad！　　So　this　was　the　end；　the　purpose　to　which　he　had　lived　with　such　magnificent　moderation！　　To　be　lonely；　and　grow　older　and　older；