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diff --git a/old/23092004.2594.txt b/old/23092004.2594.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc0cba9 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/23092004.2594.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13375 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Indian Summer of a Forsyte, and In Chancery +by John Galsworthy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net + + +Title: Indian Summer of a Forsyte, and In Chancery + The Forstye Saga, Part 2 + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: September 23, 2004 [EBook #2594] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE, *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger. Proofing of a previous edition by Fredrik +Hausmann + + + + + + +THE FORSYTE SAGA + +By John Galsworthy + +VOLUME II + +Contents: + Indian Summer of a Forsyte + In Chancery + +TO ANDRE CHEVRILLON + + + +INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE + + "And Summer's lease hath all + too short a date." + --Shakespeare +I + +In the last day of May in the early 'nineties, about six o'clock of the +evening, old Jolyon Forsyte sat under the oak tree below the terrace of +his house at Robin Hill. He was waiting for the midges to bite him, +before abandoning the glory of the afternoon. His thin brown hand, where +blue veins stood out, held the end of a cigar in its tapering, +long-nailed fingers--a pointed polished nail had survived with him from +those earlier Victorian days when to touch nothing, even with the tips of +the fingers, had been so distinguished. His domed forehead, great white +moustache, lean cheeks, and long lean jaw were covered from the westering +sunshine by an old brown Panama hat. His legs were crossed; in all his +attitude was serenity and a kind of elegance, as of an old man who every +morning put eau de Cologne upon his silk handkerchief. At his feet lay a +woolly brown-and-white dog trying to be a Pomeranian--the dog Balthasar +between whom and old Jolyon primal aversion had changed into attachment +with the years. Close to his chair was a swing, and on the swing was +seated one of Holly's dolls--called 'Duffer Alice'--with her body fallen +over her legs and her doleful nose buried in a black petticoat. She was +never out of disgrace, so it did not matter to her how she sat. Below +the oak tree the lawn dipped down a bank, stretched to the fernery, and, +beyond that refinement, became fields, dropping to the pond, the coppice, +and the prospect--'Fine, remarkable'--at which Swithin Forsyte, from +under this very tree, had stared five years ago when he drove down with +Irene to look at the house. Old Jolyon had heard of his brother's +exploit--that drive which had become quite celebrated on Forsyte 'Change. +Swithin! And the fellow had gone and died, last November, at the age of +only seventy-nine, renewing the doubt whether Forsytes could live for +ever, which had first arisen when Aunt Ann passed away. Died! and left +only Jolyon and James, Roger and Nicholas and Timothy, Julia, Hester, +Susan! And old Jolyon thought: 'Eighty-five! I don't feel it--except +when I get that pain.' + +His memory went searching. He had not felt his age since he had bought +his nephew Soames' ill-starred house and settled into it here at Robin +Hill over three years ago. It was as if he had been getting younger +every spring, living in the country with his son and his +grandchildren--June, and the little ones of the second marriage, Jolly +and Holly; living down here out of the racket of London and the cackle of +Forsyte 'Change,' free of his boards, in a delicious atmosphere of no +work and all play, with plenty of occupation in the perfecting and +mellowing of the house and its twenty acres, and in ministering to the +whims of Holly and Jolly. All the knots and crankiness, which had +gathered in his heart during that long and tragic business of June, +Soames, Irene his wife, and poor young Bosinney, had been smoothed out. +Even June had thrown off her melancholy at last--witness this travel in +Spain she was taking now with her father and her stepmother. Curiously +perfect peace was left by their departure; blissful, yet blank, because +his son was not there. Jo was never anything but a comfort and a +pleasure to him nowadays--an amiable chap; but women, somehow--even the +best--got a little on one's nerves, unless of course one admired them. + +Far-off a cuckoo called; a wood-pigeon was cooing from the first elm-tree +in the field, and how the daisies and buttercups had sprung up after the +last mowing! The wind had got into the sou' west, too--a delicious air, +sappy! He pushed his hat back and let the sun fall on his chin and cheek. +Somehow, to-day, he wanted company--wanted a pretty face to look at. +People treated the old as if they wanted nothing. And with the +un-Forsytean philosophy which ever intruded on his soul, he thought: +'One's never had enough. With a foot in the grave one'll want something, +I shouldn't be surprised!' Down here--away from the exigencies of +affairs--his grandchildren, and the flowers, trees, birds of his little +domain, to say nothing of sun and moon and stars above them, said, 'Open, +sesame,' to him day and night. And sesame had opened--how much, perhaps, +he did not know. He had always been responsive to what they had begun to +call 'Nature,' genuinely, almost religiously responsive, though he had +never lost his habit of calling a sunset a sunset and a view a view, +however deeply they might move him. But nowadays Nature actually made him +ache, he appreciated it so. Every one of these calm, bright, lengthening +days, with Holly's hand in his, and the dog Balthasar in front looking +studiously for what he never found, he would stroll, watching the roses +open, fruit budding on the walls, sunlight brightening the oak leaves and +saplings in the coppice, watching the water-lily leaves unfold and +glisten, and the silvery young corn of the one wheat field; listening to +the starlings and skylarks, and the Alderney cows chewing the cud, +flicking slow their tufted tails; and every one of these fine days he +ached a little from sheer love of it all, feeling perhaps, deep down, +that he had not very much longer to enjoy it. The thought that some +day--perhaps not ten years hence, perhaps not five--all this world would +be taken away from him, before he had exhausted his powers of loving it, +seemed to him in the nature of an injustice brooding over his horizon. +If anything came after this life, it wouldn't be what he wanted; not +Robin Hill, and flowers and birds and pretty faces--too few, even now, of +those about him! With the years his dislike of humbug had increased; the +orthodoxy he had worn in the 'sixties, as he had worn side-whiskers out +of sheer exuberance, had long dropped off, leaving him reverent before +three things alone--beauty, upright conduct, and the sense of property; +and the greatest of these now was beauty. He had always had wide +interests, and, indeed could still read The Times, but he was liable at +any moment to put it down if he heard a blackbird sing. Upright conduct, +property--somehow, they were tiring; the blackbirds and the sunsets +never tired him, only gave him an uneasy feeling that he could not get +enough of them. Staring into the stilly radiance of the early evening +and at the little gold and white flowers on the lawn, a thought came to +him: This weather was like the music of 'Orfeo,' which he had recently +heard at Covent Garden. A beautiful opera, not like Meyerbeer, nor even +quite Mozart, but, in its way, perhaps even more lovely; something +classical and of the Golden Age about it, chaste and mellow, and the +Ravogli 'almost worthy of the old days'--highest praise he could bestow. +The yearning of Orpheus for the beauty he was losing, for his love going +down to Hades, as in life love and beauty did go--the yearning which sang +and throbbed through the golden music, stirred also in the lingering +beauty of the world that evening. And with the tip of his cork-soled, +elastic-sided boot he involuntarily stirred the ribs of the dog +Balthasar, causing the animal to wake and attack his fleas; for though he +was supposed to have none, nothing could persuade him of the fact. When +he had finished he rubbed the place he had been scratching against his +master's calf, and settled down again with his chin over the instep of +the disturbing boot. And into old Jolyon's mind came a sudden +recollection--a face he had seen at that opera three weeks ago--Irene, +the wife of his precious nephew Soames, that man of property! Though he +had not met her since the day of the 'At Home' in his old house at +Stanhope Gate, which celebrated his granddaughter June's ill-starred +engagement to young Bosinney, he had remembered her at once, for he had +always admired her--a very pretty creature. After the death of young +Bosinney, whose mistress she had so reprehensibly become, he had heard +that she had left Soames at once. Goodness only knew what she had been +doing since. That sight of her face--a side view--in the row in front, +had been literally the only reminder these three years that she was still +alive. No one ever spoke of her. And yet Jo had told him something +once--something which had upset him completely. The boy had got it from +George Forsyte, he believed, who had seen Bosinney in the fog the day he +was run over--something which explained the young fellow's distress--an +act of Soames towards his wife--a shocking act. Jo had seen her, too, +that afternoon, after the news was out, seen her for a moment, and his +description had always lingered in old Jolyon's mind--'wild and lost' he +had called her. And next day June had gone there--bottled up her +feelings and gone there, and the maid had cried and told her how her +mistress had slipped out in the night and vanished. A tragic business +altogether! One thing was certain--Soames had never been able to lay +hands on her again. And he was living at Brighton, and journeying up and +down--a fitting fate, the man of property! For when he once took a +dislike to anyone--as he had to his nephew--old Jolyon never got over it. +He remembered still the sense of relief with which he had heard the news +of Irene's disappearance. It had been shocking to think of her a +prisoner in that house to which she must have wandered back, when Jo saw +her, wandered back for a moment--like a wounded animal to its hole after +seeing that news, 'Tragic death of an Architect,' in the street. Her +face had struck him very much the other night--more beautiful than he had +remembered, but like a mask, with something going on beneath it. A young +woman still--twenty-eight perhaps. Ah, well! Very likely she had another +lover by now. But at this subversive thought--for married women should +never love: once, even, had been too much--his instep rose, and with it +the dog Balthasar's head. The sagacious animal stood up and looked into +old Jolyon's face. 'Walk?' he seemed to say; and old Jolyon answered: +"Come on, old chap!" + +Slowly, as was their wont, they crossed among the constellations of +buttercups and daisies, and entered the fernery. This feature, where +very little grew as yet, had been judiciously dropped below the level of +the lawn so that it might come up again on the level of the other lawn +and give the impression of irregularity, so important in horticulture. +Its rocks and earth were beloved of the dog Balthasar, who sometimes +found a mole there. Old Jolyon made a point of passing through it +because, though it was not beautiful, he intended that it should be, some +day, and he would think: 'I must get Varr to come down and look at it; +he's better than Beech.' For plants, like houses and human complaints, +required the best expert consideration. It was inhabited by snails, and +if accompanied by his grandchildren, he would point to one and tell them +the story of the little boy who said: 'Have plummers got leggers, Mother? +'No, sonny.' 'Then darned if I haven't been and swallowed a snileybob.' +And when they skipped and clutched his hand, thinking of the snileybob +going down the little boy's 'red lane,' his eyes would twinkle. Emerging +from the fernery, he opened the wicket gate, which just there led into +the first field, a large and park-like area, out of which, within brick +walls, the vegetable garden had been carved. Old Jolyon avoided this, +which did not suit his mood, and made down the hill towards the pond. +Balthasar, who knew a water-rat or two, gambolled in front, at the gait +which marks an oldish dog who takes the same walk every day. Arrived at +the edge, old Jolyon stood, noting another water-lily opened since +yesterday; he would show it to Holly to-morrow, when 'his little sweet' +had got over the upset which had followed on her eating a tomato at +lunch--her little arrangements were very delicate. Now that Jolly had +gone to school--his first term--Holly was with him nearly all day long, +and he missed her badly. He felt that pain too, which often bothered him +now, a little dragging at his left side. He looked back up the hill. +Really, poor young Bosinney had made an uncommonly good job of the house; +he would have done very well for himself if he had lived! And where was +he now? Perhaps, still haunting this, the site of his last work, of his +tragic love affair. Or was Philip Bosinney's spirit diffused in the +general? Who could say? That dog was getting his legs muddy! And he +moved towards the coppice. There had been the most delightful lot of +bluebells, and he knew where some still lingered like little patches of +sky fallen in between the trees, away out of the sun. He passed the +cow-houses and the hen-houses there installed, and pursued a path into +the thick of the saplings, making for one of the bluebell plots. +Balthasar, preceding him once more, uttered a low growl. Old Jolyon +stirred him with his foot, but the dog remained motionless, just where +there was no room to pass, and the hair rose slowly along the centre of +his woolly back. Whether from the growl and the look of the dog's +stivered hair, or from the sensation which a man feels in a wood, old +Jolyon also felt something move along his spine. And then the path +turned, and there was an old mossy log, and on it a woman sitting. Her +face was turned away, and he had just time to think: 'She's +trespassing--I must have a board put up!' before she turned. Powers +above! The face he had seen at the opera--the very woman he had just +been thinking of! In that confused moment he saw things blurred, as if a +spirit--queer effect--the slant of sunlight perhaps on her violet-grey +frock! And then she rose and stood smiling, her head a little to one +side. Old Jolyon thought: 'How pretty she is!' She did not speak, +neither did he; and he realized why with a certain admiration. She was +here no doubt because of some memory, and did not mean to try and get out +of it by vulgar explanation. + +"Don't let that dog touch your frock," he said; "he's got wet feet. Come +here, you!" + +But the dog Balthasar went on towards the visitor, who put her hand down +and stroked his head. Old Jolyon said quickly: + +"I saw you at the opera the other night; you didn't notice me." + +"Oh, yes! I did." + +He felt a subtle flattery in that, as though she had added: 'Do you think +one could miss seeing you?' + +"They're all in Spain," he remarked abruptly. "I'm alone; I drove up for +the opera. The Ravogli's good. Have you seen the cow-houses?" + +In a situation so charged with mystery and something very like emotion he +moved instinctively towards that bit of property, and she moved beside +him. Her figure swayed faintly, like the best kind of French figures; +her dress, too, was a sort of French grey. He noticed two or three silver +threads in her amber-coloured hair, strange hair with those dark eyes of +hers, and that creamy-pale face. A sudden sidelong look from the velvety +brown eyes disturbed him. It seemed to come from deep and far, from +another world almost, or at all events from some one not living very much +in this. And he said mechanically: + +"Where are you living now?" + +"I have a little flat in Chelsea." + +He did not want to hear what she was doing, did not want to hear +anything; but the perverse word came out: + +"Alone?" + +She nodded. It was a relief to know that. And it came into his mind +that, but for a twist of fate, she would have been mistress of this +coppice, showing these cow-houses to him, a visitor. + +"All Alderneys," he muttered; "they give the best milk. This one's a +pretty creature. Woa, Myrtle!" + +The fawn-coloured cow, with eyes as soft and brown as Irene's own, was +standing absolutely still, not having long been milked. She looked round +at them out of the corner of those lustrous, mild, cynical eyes, and from +her grey lips a little dribble of saliva threaded its way towards the +straw. The scent of hay and vanilla and ammonia rose in the dim light of +the cool cow-house; and old Jolyon said: + +"You must come up and have some dinner with me. I'll send you home in +the carriage." + +He perceived a struggle going on within her; natural, no doubt, with her +memories. But he wanted her company; a pretty face, a charming figure, +beauty! He had been alone all the afternoon. Perhaps his eyes were +wistful, for she answered: "Thank you, Uncle Jolyon. I should like to." + +He rubbed his hands, and said: + +"Capital! Let's go up, then!" And, preceded by the dog Balthasar, they +ascended through the field. The sun was almost level in their faces now, +and he could see, not only those silver threads, but little lines, just +deep enough to stamp her beauty with a coin-like fineness--the special +look of life unshared with others. "I'll take her in by the terrace," he +thought: "I won't make a common visitor of her." + +"What do you do all day?" he said. + +"Teach music; I have another interest, too." + +"Work!" said old Jolyon, picking up the doll from off the swing, and +smoothing its black petticoat. "Nothing like it, is there? I don't do +any now. I'm getting on. What interest is that?" + +"Trying to help women who've come to grief." Old Jolyon did not quite +understand. "To grief?" he repeated; then realised with a shock that she +meant exactly what he would have meant himself if he had used that +expression. Assisting the Magdalenes of London! What a weird and +terrifying interest! And, curiosity overcoming his natural shrinking, he +asked: + +"Why? What do you do for them?" + +"Not much. I've no money to spare. I can only give sympathy and food +sometimes." + +Involuntarily old Jolyon's hand sought his purse. He said hastily: "How +d'you get hold of them?" + +"I go to a hospital." + +"A hospital! Phew!" + +"What hurts me most is that once they nearly all had some sort of +beauty." + +Old Jolyon straightened the doll. "Beauty!" he ejaculated: "Ha! Yes! A +sad business!" and he moved towards the house. Through a French window, +under sun-blinds not yet drawn up, he preceded her into the room where he +was wont to study The Times and the sheets of an agricultural magazine, +with huge illustrations of mangold wurzels, and the like, which provided +Holly with material for her paint brush. + +"Dinner's in half an hour. You'd like to wash your hands! I'll take you +to June's room." + +He saw her looking round eagerly; what changes since she had last visited +this house with her husband, or her lover, or both perhaps--he did not +know, could not say! All that was dark, and he wished to leave it so. +But what changes! And in the hall he said: + +"My boy Jo's a painter, you know. He's got a lot of taste. It isn't +mine, of course, but I've let him have his way." + +She was standing very still, her eyes roaming through the hall and music +room, as it now was--all thrown into one, under the great skylight. Old +Jolyon had an odd impression of her. Was she trying to conjure somebody +from the shades of that space where the colouring was all pearl-grey and +silver? He would have had gold himself; more lively and solid. But Jo +had French tastes, and it had come out shadowy like that, with an effect +as of the fume of cigarettes the chap was always smoking, broken here and +there by a little blaze of blue or crimson colour. It was not his dream! +Mentally he had hung this space with those gold-framed masterpieces of +still and stiller life which he had bought in days when quantity was +precious. And now where were they? Sold for a song! That something +which made him, alone among Forsytes, move with the times had warned him +against the struggle to retain them. But in his study he still had +'Dutch Fishing Boats at Sunset.' + +He began to mount the stairs with her, slowly, for he felt his side. + +"These are the bathrooms," he said, "and other arrangements. I've had +them tiled. The nurseries are along there. And this is Jo's and his +wife's. They all communicate. But you remember, I expect." + +Irene nodded. They passed on, up the gallery and entered a large room +with a small bed, and several windows. + +"This is mine," he said. The walls were covered with the photographs of +children and watercolour sketches, and he added doubtfully: + +"These are Jo's. The view's first-rate. You can see the Grand Stand at +Epsom in clear weather." + +The sun was down now, behind the house, and over the 'prospect' a +luminous haze had settled, emanation of the long and prosperous day. Few +houses showed, but fields and trees faintly glistened, away to a loom of +downs. + +"The country's changing," he said abruptly, "but there it'll be when +we're all gone. Look at those thrushes--the birds are sweet here in the +mornings. I'm glad to have washed my hands of London." + +Her face was close to the window pane, and he was struck by its mournful +look. 'Wish I could make her look happy!' he thought. 'A pretty face, +but sad!' And taking up his can of hot water he went out into the +gallery. + +"This is June's room," he said, opening the next door and putting the can +down; "I think you'll find everything." And closing the door behind her +he went back to his own room. Brushing his hair with his great ebony +brushes, and dabbing his forehead with eau de Cologne, he mused. She had +come so strangely--a sort of visitation; mysterious, even romantic, as if +his desire for company, for beauty, had been fulfilled by whatever it was +which fulfilled that sort of thing. And before the mirror he +straightened his still upright figure, passed the brushes over his great +white moustache, touched up his eyebrows with eau de Cologne, and rang +the bell. + +"I forgot to let them know that I have a lady to dinner with me. Let cook +do something extra, and tell Beacon to have the landau and pair at +half-past ten to drive her back to Town to-night. Is Miss Holly asleep?" + +The maid thought not. And old Jolyon, passing down the gallery, stole on +tiptoe towards the nursery, and opened the door whose hinges he kept +specially oiled that he might slip in and out in the evenings without +being heard. + +But Holly was asleep, and lay like a miniature Madonna, of that type +which the old painters could not tell from Venus, when they had completed +her. Her long dark lashes clung to her cheeks; on her face was perfect +peace--her little arrangements were evidently all right again. And old +Jolyon, in the twilight of the room, stood adoring her! It was so +charming, solemn, and loving--that little face. He had more than his +share of the blessed capacity of living again in the young. They were to +him his future life--all of a future life that his fundamental pagan +sanity perhaps admitted. There she was with everything before her, and +his blood--some of it--in her tiny veins. There she was, his little +companion, to be made as happy as ever he could make her, so that she +knew nothing but love. His heart swelled, and he went out, stilling the +sound of his patent-leather boots. In the corridor an eccentric notion +attacked him: To think that children should come to that which Irene had +told him she was helping! Women who were all, once, little things like +this one sleeping there! 'I must give her a cheque!' he mused; 'Can't +bear to think of them!' They had never borne reflecting on, those poor +outcasts; wounding too deeply the core of true refinement hidden under +layers of conformity to the sense of property--wounding too grievously +the deepest thing in him--a love of beauty which could give him, even +now, a flutter of the heart, thinking of his evening in the society of a +pretty woman. And he went downstairs, through the swinging doors, to the +back regions. There, in the wine-cellar, was a hock worth at least two +pounds a bottle, a Steinberg Cabinet, better than any Johannisberg that +ever went down throat; a wine of perfect bouquet, sweet as a +nectarine--nectar indeed! He got a bottle out, handling it like a baby, +and holding it level to the light, to look. Enshrined in its coat of +dust, that mellow coloured, slender-necked bottle gave him deep pleasure. +Three years to settle down again since the move from Town--ought to be in +prime condition! Thirty-five years ago he had bought it--thank God he had +kept his palate, and earned the right to drink it. She would appreciate +this; not a spice of acidity in a dozen. He wiped the bottle, drew the +cork with his own hands, put his nose down, inhaled its perfume, and went +back to the music room. + +Irene was standing by the piano; she had taken off her hat and a lace +scarf she had been wearing, so that her gold-coloured hair was visible, +and the pallor of her neck. In her grey frock she made a pretty picture +for old Jolyon, against the rosewood of the piano. + +He gave her his arm, and solemnly they went. The room, which had been +designed to enable twenty-four people to dine in comfort, held now but a +little round table. In his present solitude the big dining-table +oppressed old Jolyon; he had caused it to be removed till his son came +back. Here in the company of two really good copies of Raphael Madonnas +he was wont to dine alone. It was the only disconsolate hour of his day, +this summer weather. He had never been a large eater, like that great +chap Swithin, or Sylvanus Heythorp, or Anthony Thornworthy, those cronies +of past times; and to dine alone, overlooked by the Madonnas, was to him +but a sorrowful occupation, which he got through quickly, that he might +come to the more spiritual enjoyment of his coffee and cigar. But this +evening was a different matter! His eyes twinkled at her across the +little table and he spoke of Italy and Switzerland, telling her stories +of his travels there, and other experiences which he could no longer +recount to his son and grand-daughter because they knew them. This fresh +audience was precious to him; he had never become one of those old men +who ramble round and round the fields of reminiscence. Himself quickly +fatigued by the insensitive, he instinctively avoided fatiguing others, +and his natural flirtatiousness towards beauty guarded him specially in +his relations with a woman. He would have liked to draw her out, but +though she murmured and smiled and seemed to be enjoying what he told +her, he remained conscious of that mysterious remoteness which +constituted half her fascination. He could not bear women who threw +their shoulders and eyes at you, and chattered away; or hard-mouthed +women who laid down the law and knew more than you did. There was only +one quality in a woman that appealed to him--charm; and the quieter it +was, the more he liked it. And this one had charm, shadowy as afternoon +sunlight on those Italian hills and valleys he had loved. The feeling, +too, that she was, as it were, apart, cloistered, made her seem nearer to +himself, a strangely desirable companion. When a man is very old and +quite out of the running, he loves to feel secure from the rivalries of +youth, for he would still be first in the heart of beauty. And he drank +his hock, and watched her lips, and felt nearly young. But the dog +Balthasar lay watching her lips too, and despising in his heart the +interruptions of their talk, and the tilting of those greenish glasses +full of a golden fluid which was distasteful to him. + +The light was just failing when they went back into the music-room. And, +cigar in mouth, old Jolyon said: + +"Play me some Chopin." + +By the cigars they smoke, and the composers they love, ye shall know the +texture of men's souls. Old Jolyon could not bear a strong cigar or +Wagner's music. He loved Beethoven and Mozart, Handel and Gluck, and +Schumann, and, for some occult reason, the operas of Meyerbeer; but of +late years he had been seduced by Chopin, just as in painting he had +succumbed to Botticelli. In yielding to these tastes he had been +conscious of divergence from the standard of the Golden Age. Their +poetry was not that of Milton and Byron and Tennyson; of Raphael and +Titian; Mozart and Beethoven. It was, as it were, behind a veil; their +poetry hit no one in the face, but slipped its fingers under the ribs and +turned and twisted, and melted up the heart. And, never certain that +this was healthy, he did not care a rap so long as he could see the +pictures of the one or hear the music of the other. + +Irene sat down at the piano under the electric lamp festooned with +pearl-grey, and old Jolyon, in an armchair, whence he could see her, +crossed his legs and drew slowly at his cigar. She sat a few moments +with her hands on the keys, evidently searching her mind for what to give +him. Then she began and within old Jolyon there arose a sorrowful +pleasure, not quite like anything else in the world. He fell slowly into +a trance, interrupted only by the movements of taking the cigar out of +his mouth at long intervals, and replacing it. She was there, and the +hock within him, and the scent of tobacco; but there, too, was a world of +sunshine lingering into moonlight, and pools with storks upon them, and +bluish trees above, glowing with blurs of wine-red roses, and fields of +lavender where milk-white cows were grazing, and a woman all shadowy, +with dark eyes and a white neck, smiled, holding out her arms; and +through air which was like music a star dropped and was caught on a cow's +horn. He opened his eyes. Beautiful piece; she played well--the touch +of an angel! And he closed them again. He felt miraculously sad and +happy, as one does, standing under a lime-tree in full honey flower. Not +live one's own life again, but just stand there and bask in the smile of +a woman's eyes, and enjoy the bouquet! And he jerked his hand; the dog +Balthasar had reached up and licked it. + +"Beautiful!" He said: "Go on--more Chopin!" + +She began to play again. This time the resemblance between her and +'Chopin' struck him. The swaying he had noticed in her walk was in her +playing too, and the Nocturne she had chosen and the soft darkness of her +eyes, the light on her hair, as of moonlight from a golden moon. +Seductive, yes; but nothing of Delilah in her or in that music. A long +blue spiral from his cigar ascended and dispersed. 'So we go out!' he +thought. 'No more beauty! Nothing?' + +Again Irene stopped. + +"Would you like some Gluck? He used to write his music in a sunlit +garden, with a bottle of Rhine wine beside him." + +"Ah! yes. Let's have 'Orfeo.'" Round about him now were fields of gold +and silver flowers, white forms swaying in the sunlight, bright birds +flying to and fro. All was summer. Lingering waves of sweetness and +regret flooded his soul. Some cigar ash dropped, and taking out a silk +handkerchief to brush it off, he inhaled a mingled scent as of snuff and +eau de Cologne. 'Ah!' he thought, 'Indian summer--that's all!' and he +said: "You haven't played me 'Che faro.'" + +She did not answer; did not move. He was conscious of something--some +strange upset. Suddenly he saw her rise and turn away, and a pang of +remorse shot through him. What a clumsy chap! Like Orpheus, she of +course--she too was looking for her lost one in the hall of memory! And +disturbed to the heart, he got up from his chair. She had gone to the +great window at the far end. Gingerly he followed. Her hands were +folded over her breast; he could just see her cheek, very white. And, +quite emotionalized, he said: + +"There, there, my love!" The words had escaped him mechanically, for +they were those he used to Holly when she had a pain, but their effect +was instantaneously distressing. She raised her arms, covered her face +with them, and wept. + +Old Jolyon stood gazing at her with eyes very deep from age. The +passionate shame she seemed feeling at her abandonment, so unlike the +control and quietude of her whole presence was as if she had never before +broken down in the presence of another being. + +"There, there--there, there!" he murmured, and putting his hand out +reverently, touched her. She turned, and leaned the arms which covered +her face against him. Old Jolyon stood very still, keeping one thin hand +on her shoulder. Let her cry her heart out--it would do her good. + +And the dog Balthasar, puzzled, sat down on his stern to examine them. + +The window was still open, the curtains had not been drawn, the last of +daylight from without mingled with faint intrusion from the lamp within; +there was a scent of new-mown grass. With the wisdom of a long life old +Jolyon did not speak. Even grief sobbed itself out in time; only Time +was good for sorrow--Time who saw the passing of each mood, each emotion +in turn; Time the layer-to-rest. There came into his mind the words: 'As +panteth the hart after cooling streams'--but they were of no use to him. +Then, conscious of a scent of violets, he knew she was drying her eyes. +He put his chin forward, pressed his moustache against her forehead, and +felt her shake with a quivering of her whole body, as of a tree which +shakes itself free of raindrops. She put his hand to her lips, as if +saying: "All over now! Forgive me!" + +The kiss filled him with a strange comfort; he led her back to where she +had been so upset. And the dog Balthasar, following, laid the bone of +one of the cutlets they had eaten at their feet. + +Anxious to obliterate the memory of that emotion, he could think of +nothing better than china; and moving with her slowly from cabinet to +cabinet, he kept taking up bits of Dresden and Lowestoft and Chelsea, +turning them round and round with his thin, veined hands, whose skin, +faintly freckled, had such an aged look. + +"I bought this at Jobson's," he would say; "cost me thirty pounds. It's +very old. That dog leaves his bones all over the place. This old +'ship-bowl' I picked up at the sale when that precious rip, the Marquis, +came to grief. But you don't remember. Here's a nice piece of Chelsea. +Now, what would you say this was?" And he was comforted, feeling that, +with her taste, she was taking a real interest in these things; for, +after all, nothing better composes the nerves than a doubtful piece of +china. + +When the crunch of the carriage wheels was heard at last, he said: + +"You must come again; you must come to lunch, then I can show you these +by daylight, and my little sweet--she's a dear little thing. This dog +seems to have taken a fancy to you." + +For Balthasar, feeling that she was about to leave, was rubbing his side +against her leg. Going out under the porch with her, he said: + +"He'll get you up in an hour and a quarter. Take this for your +protegees," and he slipped a cheque for fifty pounds into her hand. He +saw her brightened eyes, and heard her murmur: "Oh! Uncle Jolyon!" and a +real throb of pleasure went through him. That meant one or two poor +creatures helped a little, and it meant that she would come again. He +put his hand in at the window and grasped hers once more. The carriage +rolled away. He stood looking at the moon and the shadows of the trees, +and thought: 'A sweet night! She......!' + + +II + +Two days of rain, and summer set in bland and sunny. Old Jolyon walked +and talked with Holly. At first he felt taller and full of a new vigour; +then he felt restless. Almost every afternoon they would enter the +coppice, and walk as far as the log. 'Well, she's not there!' he would +think, 'of course not!' And he would feel a little shorter, and drag his +feet walking up the hill home, with his hand clapped to his left side. +Now and then the thought would move in him: 'Did she come--or did I dream +it?' and he would stare at space, while the dog Balthasar stared at him. +Of course she would not come again! He opened the letters from Spain +with less excitement. They were not returning till July; he felt, oddly, +that he could bear it. Every day at dinner he screwed up his eyes and +looked at where she had sat. She was not there, so he unscrewed his eyes +again. + +On the seventh afternoon he thought: 'I must go up and get some boots.' +He ordered Beacon, and set out. Passing from Putney towards Hyde Park he +reflected: 'I might as well go to Chelsea and see her.' And he called +out: "Just drive me to where you took that lady the other night." The +coachman turned his broad red face, and his juicy lips answered: "The +lady in grey, sir?" + +"Yes, the lady in grey." What other ladies were there! Stodgy chap! + +The carriage stopped before a small three-storied block of flats, +standing a little back from the river. With a practised eye old Jolyon +saw that they were cheap. 'I should think about sixty pound a year,' he +mused; and entering, he looked at the name-board. The name 'Forsyte' was +not on it, but against 'First Floor, Flat C' were the words: 'Mrs. Irene +Heron.' Ah! She had taken her maiden name again! And somehow this +pleased him. He went upstairs slowly, feeling his side a little. He +stood a moment, before ringing, to lose the feeling of drag and +fluttering there. She would not be in! And then--Boots! The thought +was black. What did he want with boots at his age? He could not wear out +all those he had. + +"Your mistress at home?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Say Mr. Jolyon Forsyte." + +"Yes, sir, will you come this way?" + +Old Jolyon followed a very little maid--not more than sixteen one would +say--into a very small drawing-room where the sun-blinds were drawn. It +held a cottage piano and little else save a vague fragrance and good +taste. He stood in the middle, with his top hat in his hand, and +thought: 'I expect she's very badly off!' There was a mirror above the +fireplace, and he saw himself reflected. An old-looking chap! He heard +a rustle, and turned round. She was so close that his moustache almost +brushed her forehead, just under her hair. + +"I was driving up," he said. "Thought I'd look in on you, and ask you +how you got up the other night." + +And, seeing her smile, he felt suddenly relieved. She was really glad to +see him, perhaps. + +"Would you like to put on your hat and come for a drive in the Park?" + +But while she was gone to put her hat on, he frowned. The Park! James +and Emily! Mrs. Nicholas, or some other member of his precious family +would be there very likely, prancing up and down. And they would go and +wag their tongues about having seen him with her, afterwards. Better +not! He did not wish to revive the echoes of the past on Forsyte +'Change. He removed a white hair from the lapel of his +closely-buttoned-up frock coat, and passed his hand over his cheeks, +moustache, and square chin. It felt very hollow there under the +cheekbones. He had not been eating much lately--he had better get that +little whippersnapper who attended Holly to give him a tonic. But she +had come back and when they were in the carriage, he said: + +"Suppose we go and sit in Kensington Gardens instead?" and added with a +twinkle: "No prancing up and down there," as if she had been in the +secret of his thoughts. + +Leaving the carriage, they entered those select precincts, and strolled +towards the water. + +"You've gone back to your maiden name, I see," he said: "I'm not sorry." + +She slipped her hand under his arm: "Has June forgiven me, Uncle Jolyon?" + +He answered gently: "Yes--yes; of course, why not?" + +"And have you?" + +"I? I forgave you as soon as I saw how the land really lay." And +perhaps he had; his instinct had always been to forgive the beautiful. + +She drew a deep breath. "I never regretted--I couldn't. Did you ever +love very deeply, Uncle Jolyon?" + +At that strange question old Jolyon stared before him. Had he? He did +not seem to remember that he ever had. But he did not like to say this +to the young woman whose hand was touching his arm, whose life was +suspended, as it were, by memory of a tragic love. And he thought: 'If I +had met you when I was young I--I might have made a fool of myself, +perhaps.' And a longing to escape in generalities beset him. + +"Love's a queer thing," he said, "fatal thing often. It was the +Greeks--wasn't it?--made love into a goddess; they were right, I dare +say, but then they lived in the Golden Age." + +"Phil adored them." + +Phil! The word jarred him, for suddenly--with his power to see all round +a thing, he perceived why she was putting up with him like this. She +wanted to talk about her lover! Well! If it was any pleasure to her! +And he said: "Ah! There was a bit of the sculptor in him, I fancy." + +"Yes. He loved balance and symmetry; he loved the whole-hearted way the +Greeks gave themselves to art." + +Balance! The chap had no balance at all, if he remembered; as for +symmetry--clean-built enough he was, no doubt; but those queer eyes of +his, and high cheek-bones--Symmetry? + +"You're of the Golden Age, too, Uncle Jolyon." + +Old Jolyon looked round at her. Was she chaffing him? No, her eyes were +soft as velvet. Was she flattering him? But if so, why? There was +nothing to be had out of an old chap like him. + +"Phil thought so. He used to say: 'But I can never tell him that I +admire him.'" + +Ah! There it was again. Her dead lover; her desire to talk of him! And +he pressed her arm, half resentful of those memories, half grateful, as +if he recognised what a link they were between herself and him. + +"He was a very talented young fellow," he murmured. "It's hot; I feel +the heat nowadays. Let's sit down." + +They took two chairs beneath a chestnut tree whose broad leaves covered +them from the peaceful glory of the afternoon. A pleasure to sit there +and watch her, and feel that she liked to be with him. And the wish to +increase that liking, if he could, made him go on: + +"I expect he showed you a side of him I never saw. He'd be at his best +with you. His ideas of art were a little new--to me "--he had stiffed +the word 'fangled.' + +"Yes: but he used to say you had a real sense of beauty." Old Jolyon +thought: 'The devil he did!' but answered with a twinkle: "Well, I have, +or I shouldn't be sitting here with you." She was fascinating when she +smiled with her eyes, like that! + +"He thought you had one of those hearts that never grow old. Phil had +real insight." + +He was not taken in by this flattery spoken out of the past, out of a +longing to talk of her dead lover--not a bit; and yet it was precious to +hear, because she pleased his eyes and heart which--quite true!--had +never grown old. Was that because--unlike her and her dead lover, he had +never loved to desperation, had always kept his balance, his sense of +symmetry. Well! It had left him power, at eighty-four, to admire beauty. +And he thought, 'If I were a painter or a sculptor! But I'm an old chap. +Make hay while the sun shines.' + +A couple with arms entwined crossed on the grass before them, at the edge +of the shadow from their tree. The sunlight fell cruelly on their pale, +squashed, unkempt young faces. "We're an ugly lot!" said old Jolyon +suddenly. "It amazes me to see how--love triumphs over that." + +"Love triumphs over everything!" + +"The young think so," he muttered. + +"Love has no age, no limit, and no death." + +With that glow in her pale face, her breast heaving, her eyes so large +and dark and soft, she looked like Venus come to life! But this +extravagance brought instant reaction, and, twinkling, he said: "Well, if +it had limits, we shouldn't be born; for by George! it's got a lot to put +up with." + +Then, removing his top hat, he brushed it round with a cuff. The great +clumsy thing heated his forehead; in these days he often got a rush of +blood to the head--his circulation was not what it had been. + +She still sat gazing straight before her, and suddenly she murmured: + +"It's strange enough that I'm alive." + +Those words of Jo's 'Wild and lost' came back to him. + +"Ah!" he said: "my son saw you for a moment--that day." + +"Was it your son? I heard a voice in the hall; I thought for a second it +was--Phil." + +Old Jolyon saw her lips tremble. She put her hand over them, took it +away again, and went on calmly: "That night I went to the Embankment; a +woman caught me by the dress. She told me about herself. When one knows +that others suffer, one's ashamed." + +"One of those?" + +She nodded, and horror stirred within old Jolyon, the horror of one who +has never known a struggle with desperation. Almost against his will he +muttered: "Tell me, won't you?" + +"I didn't care whether I lived or died. When you're like that, Fate +ceases to want to kill you. She took care of me three days--she never +left me. I had no money. That's why I do what I can for them, now." + +But old Jolyon was thinking: 'No money!' What fate could compare with +that? Every other was involved in it. + +"I wish you had come to me," he said. "Why didn't you?" But Irene did +not answer. + +"Because my name was Forsyte, I suppose? Or was it June who kept you +away? How are you getting on now?" His eyes involuntarily swept her +body. Perhaps even now she was--! And yet she wasn't thin--not really! + +"Oh! with my fifty pounds a year, I make just enough." The answer did +not reassure him; he had lost confidence. And that fellow Soames! But +his sense of justice stifled condemnation. No, she would certainly have +died rather than take another penny from him. Soft as she looked, there +must be strength in her somewhere--strength and fidelity. But what +business had young Bosinney to have got run over and left her stranded +like this! + +"Well, you must come to me now," he said, "for anything you want, or I +shall be quite cut up." And putting on his hat, he rose. "Let's go and +get some tea. I told that lazy chap to put the horses up for an hour, +and come for me at your place. We'll take a cab presently; I can't walk +as I used to." + +He enjoyed that stroll to the Kensington end of the gardens--the sound of +her voice, the glancing of her eyes, the subtle beauty of a charming form +moving beside him. He enjoyed their tea at Ruffel's in the High Street, +and came out thence with a great box of chocolates swung on his little +finger. He enjoyed the drive back to Chelsea in a hansom, smoking his +cigar. She had promised to come down next Sunday and play to him again, +and already in thought he was plucking carnations and early roses for her +to carry back to town. It was a pleasure to give her a little pleasure, +if it WERE pleasure from an old chap like him! The carriage was already +there when they arrived. Just like that fellow, who was always late when +he was wanted! Old Jolyon went in for a minute to say good-bye. The +little dark hall of the flat was impregnated with a disagreeable odour of +patchouli, and on a bench against the wall--its only furniture--he saw a +figure sitting. He heard Irene say softly: "Just one minute." In the +little drawing-room when the door was shut, he asked gravely: "One of +your protegees?" + +"Yes. Now thanks to you, I can do something for her." + +He stood, staring, and stroking that chin whose strength had frightened +so many in its time. The idea of her thus actually in contact with this +outcast grieved and frightened him. What could she do for them? +Nothing. Only soil and make trouble for herself, perhaps. And he said: +"Take care, my dear! The world puts the worst construction on +everything." + +"I know that." + +He was abashed by her quiet smile. "Well then--Sunday," he murmured: +"Good-bye." + +She put her cheek forward for him to kiss. + +"Good-bye," he said again; "take care of yourself." And he went out, not +looking towards the figure on the bench. He drove home by way of +Hammersmith; that he might stop at a place he knew of and tell them to +send her in two dozen of their best Burgundy. She must want picking-up +sometimes! Only in Richmond Park did he remember that he had gone up to +order himself some boots, and was surprised that he could have had so +paltry an idea. + + + + +III + +The little spirits of the past which throng an old man's days had never +pushed their faces up to his so seldom as in the seventy hours elapsing +before Sunday came. The spirit of the future, with the charm of the +unknown, put up her lips instead. Old Jolyon was not restless now, and +paid no visits to the log, because she was coming to lunch. There is +wonderful finality about a meal; it removes a world of doubts, for no one +misses meals except for reasons beyond control. He played many games +with Holly on the lawn, pitching them up to her who was batting so as to +be ready to bowl to Jolly in the holidays. For she was not a Forsyte, +but Jolly was--and Forsytes always bat, until they have resigned and +reached the age of eighty-five. The dog Balthasar, in attendance, lay on +the ball as often as he could, and the page-boy fielded, till his face +was like the harvest moon. And because the time was getting shorter, +each day was longer and more golden than the last. On Friday night he +took a liver pill, his side hurt him rather, and though it was not the +liver side, there is no remedy like that. Anyone telling him that he had +found a new excitement in life and that excitement was not good for him, +would have been met by one of those steady and rather defiant looks of +his deep-set iron-grey eyes, which seemed to say: 'I know my own business +best.' He always had and always would. + +On Sunday morning, when Holly had gone with her governess to church, he +visited the strawberry beds. There, accompanied by the dog Balthasar, he +examined the plants narrowly and succeeded in finding at least two dozen +berries which were really ripe. Stooping was not good for him, and he +became very dizzy and red in the forehead. Having placed the +strawberries in a dish on the dining-table, he washed his hands and +bathed his forehead with eau de Cologne. There, before the mirror, it +occurred to him that he was thinner. What a 'threadpaper' he had been +when he was young! It was nice to be slim--he could not bear a fat chap; +and yet perhaps his cheeks were too thin! She was to arrive by train at +half-past twelve and walk up, entering from the road past Drage's farm at +the far end of the coppice. And, having looked into June's room to see +that there was hot water ready, he set forth to meet her, leisurely, for +his heart was beating. The air smelled sweet, larks sang, and the Grand +Stand at Epsom was visible. A perfect day! On just such a one, no +doubt, six years ago, Soames had brought young Bosinney down with him to +look at the site before they began to build. It was Bosinney who had +pitched on the exact spot for the house--as June had often told him. In +these days he was thinking much about that young fellow, as if his spirit +were really haunting the field of his last work, on the chance of +seeing--her. Bosinney--the one man who had possessed her heart, to whom +she had given her whole self with rapture! At his age one could not, of +course, imagine such things, but there stirred in him a queer vague +aching--as it were the ghost of an impersonal jealousy; and a feeling, +too, more generous, of pity for that love so early lost. All over in a +few poor months! Well, well! He looked at his watch before entering the +coppice--only a quarter past, twenty-five minutes to wait! And then, +turning the corner of the path, he saw her exactly where he had seen her +the first time, on the log; and realised that she must have come by the +earlier train to sit there alone for a couple of hours at least. Two +hours of her society missed! What memory could make that log so dear to +her? His face showed what he was thinking, for she said at once: + +"Forgive me, Uncle Jolyon; it was here that I first knew." + +"Yes, yes; there it is for you whenever you like. You're looking a +little Londony; you're giving too many lessons." + +That she should have to give lessons worried him. Lessons to a parcel of +young girls thumping out scales with their thick fingers. + +"Where do you go to give them?" he asked. + +"They're mostly Jewish families, luckily." + +Old Jolyon stared; to all Forsytes Jews seem strange and doubtful. + +"They love music, and they're very kind." + +"They had better be, by George!" He took her arm--his side always hurt +him a little going uphill--and said: + +"Did you ever see anything like those buttercups? They came like that in +a night." + +Her eyes seemed really to fly over the field, like bees after the flowers +and the honey. "I wanted you to see them--wouldn't let them turn the +cows in yet." Then, remembering that she had come to talk about +Bosinney, he pointed to the clock-tower over the stables: + +"I expect he wouldn't have let me put that there--had no notion of time, +if I remember." + +But, pressing his arm to her, she talked of flowers instead, and he knew +it was done that he might not feel she came because of her dead lover. + +"The best flower I can show you," he said, with a sort of triumph, "is my +little sweet. She'll be back from Church directly. There's something +about her which reminds me a little of you," and it did not seem to him +peculiar that he had put it thus, instead of saying: "There's something +about you which reminds me a little of her." Ah! And here she was! + +Holly, followed closely by her elderly French governess, whose digestion +had been ruined twenty-two years ago in the siege of Strasbourg, came +rushing towards them from under the oak tree. She stopped about a dozen +yards away, to pat Balthasar and pretend that this was all she had in her +mind. Old Jolyon, who knew better, said: + +"Well, my darling, here's the lady in grey I promised you." + +Holly raised herself and looked up. He watched the two of them with a +twinkle, Irene smiling, Holly beginning with grave inquiry, passing into +a shy smile too, and then to something deeper. She had a sense of +beauty, that child--knew what was what! He enjoyed the sight of the kiss +between them. + +"Mrs. Heron, Mam'zelle Beauce. Well, Mam'zelle--good sermon?" + +For, now that he had not much more time before him, the only part of the +service connected with this world absorbed what interest in church +remained to him. Mam'zelle Beauce stretched out a spidery hand clad in a +black kid glove--she had been in the best families--and the rather sad +eyes of her lean yellowish face seemed to ask: "Are you well-brrred?" +Whenever Holly or Jolly did anything unpleasing to her--a not uncommon +occurrence--she would say to them: "The little Tayleurs never did +that--they were such well-brrred little children." Jolly hated the +little Tayleurs; Holly wondered dreadfully how it was she fell so short +of them. 'A thin rum little soul,' old Jolyon thought her--Mam'zelle +Beauce. + +Luncheon was a successful meal, the mushrooms which he himself had picked +in the mushroom house, his chosen strawberries, and another bottle of the +Steinberg cabinet filled him with a certain aromatic spirituality, and a +conviction that he would have a touch of eczema to-morrow. + +After lunch they sat under the oak tree drinking Turkish coffee. It was +no matter of grief to him when Mademoiselle Beauce withdrew to write her +Sunday letter to her sister, whose future had been endangered in the past +by swallowing a pin--an event held up daily in warning to the children to +eat slowly and digest what they had eaten. At the foot of the bank, on a +carriage rug, Holly and the dog Balthasar teased and loved each other, +and in the shade old Jolyon with his legs crossed and his cigar +luxuriously savoured, gazed at Irene sitting in the swing. A light, +vaguely swaying, grey figure with a fleck of sunlight here and there upon +it, lips just opened, eyes dark and soft under lids a little drooped. +She looked content; surely it did her good to come and see him! The +selfishness of age had not set its proper grip on him, for he could still +feel pleasure in the pleasure of others, realising that what he wanted, +though much, was not quite all that mattered. + +"It's quiet here," he said; "you mustn't come down if you find it dull. +But it's a pleasure to see you. My little sweet is the only face which +gives me any pleasure, except yours." + +From her smile he knew that she was not beyond liking to be appreciated, +and this reassured him. "That's not humbug," he said. "I never told a +woman I admired her when I didn't. In fact I don't know when I've told a +woman I admired her, except my wife in the old days; and wives are +funny." He was silent, but resumed abruptly: + +"She used to expect me to say it more often than I felt it, and there we +were." Her face looked mysteriously troubled, and, afraid that he had +said something painful, he hurried on: "When my little sweet marries, I +hope she'll find someone who knows what women feel. I shan't be here to +see it, but there's too much topsy-turvydom in marriage; I don't want her +to pitch up against that." And, aware that he had made bad worse, he +added: "That dog will scratch." + +A silence followed. Of what was she thinking, this pretty creature whose +life was spoiled; who had done with love, and yet was made for love? +Some day when he was gone, perhaps, she would find another mate--not so +disorderly as that young fellow who had got himself run over. Ah! but +her husband? + +"Does Soames never trouble you?" he asked. + +She shook her head. Her face had closed up suddenly. For all her +softness there was something irreconcilable about her. And a glimpse of +light on the inexorable nature of sex antipathies strayed into a brain +which, belonging to early Victorian civilisation--so much older than this +of his old age--had never thought about such primitive things. + +"That's a comfort," he said. "You can see the Grand Stand to-day. Shall +we take a turn round?" + +Through the flower and fruit garden, against whose high outer walls peach +trees and nectarines were trained to the sun, through the stables, the +vinery, the mushroom house, the asparagus beds, the rosery, the +summer-house, he conducted her--even into the kitchen garden to see the +tiny green peas which Holly loved to scoop out of their pods with her +finger, and lick up from the palm of her little brown hand. Many +delightful things he showed her, while Holly and the dog Balthasar danced +ahead, or came to them at intervals for attention. It was one of the +happiest afternoons he had ever spent, but it tired him and he was glad +to sit down in the music room and let her give him tea. A special little +friend of Holly's had come in--a fair child with short hair like a boy's. +And the two sported in the distance, under the stairs, on the stairs, and +up in the gallery. Old Jolyon begged for Chopin. She played studies, +mazurkas, waltzes, till the two children, creeping near, stood at the +foot of the piano their dark and golden heads bent forward, listening. +Old Jolyon watched. + +"Let's see you dance, you two!" + +Shyly, with a false start, they began. Bobbing and circling, earnest, +not very adroit, they went past and past his chair to the strains of that +waltz. He watched them and the face of her who was playing turned +smiling towards those little dancers thinking: + +'Sweetest picture I've seen for ages.' + +A voice said: + +"Hollee! Mais enfin--qu'est-ce que tu fais la--danser, le dimanche! +Viens, donc!" + +But the children came close to old Jolyon, knowing that he would save +them, and gazed into a face which was decidedly 'caught out.' + +"Better the day, better the deed, Mam'zelle. It's all my doing. Trot +along, chicks, and have your tea." + +And, when they were gone, followed by the dog Balthasar, who took every +meal, he looked at Irene with a twinkle and said: + +"Well, there we are! Aren't they sweet? Have you any little ones among +your pupils?" + +"Yes, three--two of them darlings." + +"Pretty?" + +"Lovely!" + +Old Jolyon sighed; he had an insatiable appetite for the very young. "My +little sweet," he said, "is devoted to music; she'll be a musician some +day. You wouldn't give me your opinion of her playing, I suppose?" + +"Of course I will." + +"You wouldn't like--" but he stifled the words "to give her lessons." +The idea that she gave lessons was unpleasant to him; yet it would mean +that he would see her regularly. She left the piano and came over to his +chair. + +"I would like, very much; but there is--June. When are they coming +back?" + +Old Jolyon frowned. "Not till the middle of next month. What does that +matter?" + +"You said June had forgiven me; but she could never forget, Uncle +Jolyon." + +Forget! She must forget, if he wanted her to. + +But as if answering, Irene shook her head. "You know she couldn't; one +doesn't forget." + +Always that wretched past! And he said with a sort of vexed finality: + +"Well, we shall see." + +He talked to her an hour or more, of the children, and a hundred little +things, till the carriage came round to take her home. And when she had +gone he went back to his chair, and sat there smoothing his face and +chin, dreaming over the day. + +That evening after dinner he went to his study and took a sheet of paper. +He stayed for some minutes without writing, then rose and stood under the +masterpiece 'Dutch Fishing Boats at Sunset.' He was not thinking of that +picture, but of his life. He was going to leave her something in his +Will; nothing could so have stirred the stilly deeps of thought and +memory. He was going to leave her a portion of his wealth, of his +aspirations, deeds, qualities, work--all that had made that wealth; +going to leave her, too, a part of all he had missed in life, by his sane +and steady pursuit of wealth. All! What had he missed? 'Dutch Fishing +Boats' responded blankly; he crossed to the French window, and drawing +the curtain aside, opened it. A wind had got up, and one of last year's +oak leaves which had somehow survived the gardener's brooms, was dragging +itself with a tiny clicking rustle along the stone terrace in the +twilight. Except for that it was very quiet out there, and he could +smell the heliotrope watered not long since. A bat went by. A bird +uttered its last 'cheep.' And right above the oak tree the first star +shone. Faust in the opera had bartered his soul for some fresh years of +youth. Morbid notion! No such bargain was possible, that was real +tragedy! No making oneself new again for love or life or anything. +Nothing left to do but enjoy beauty from afar off while you could, and +leave it something in your Will. But how much? And, as if he could not +make that calculation looking out into the mild freedom of the country +night, he turned back and went up to the chimney-piece. There were his +pet bronzes--a Cleopatra with the asp at her breast; a Socrates; a +greyhound playing with her puppy; a strong man reining in some horses. +'They last!' he thought, and a pang went through his heart. They had a +thousand years of life before them! + +'How much?' Well! enough at all events to save her getting old before her +time, to keep the lines out of her face as long as possible, and grey +from soiling that bright hair. He might live another five years. She +would be well over thirty by then. 'How much?' She had none of his +blood in her! In loyalty to the tenor of his life for forty years and +more, ever since he married and founded that mysterious thing, a family, +came this warning thought--None of his blood, no right to anything! It +was a luxury then, this notion. An extravagance, a petting of an old +man's whim, one of those things done in dotage. His real future was +vested in those who had his blood, in whom he would live on when he was +gone. He turned away from the bronzes and stood looking at the old +leather chair in which he had sat and smoked so many hundreds of cigars. +And suddenly he seemed to see her sitting there in her grey dress, +fragrant, soft, dark-eyed, graceful, looking up at him. Why! She cared +nothing for him, really; all she cared for was that lost lover of hers. +But she was there, whether she would or no, giving him pleasure with her +beauty and grace. One had no right to inflict an old man's company, no +right to ask her down to play to him and let him look at her--for no +reward! Pleasure must be paid for in this world. 'How much?' After +all, there was plenty; his son and his three grandchildren would never +miss that little lump. He had made it himself, nearly every penny; he +could leave it where he liked, allow himself this little pleasure. He +went back to the bureau. 'Well, I'm going to,' he thought, 'let them +think what they like. I'm going to!' And he sat down. + +'How much?' Ten thousand, twenty thousand--how much? If only with his +money he could buy one year, one month of youth. And startled by that +thought, he wrote quickly: + +'DEAR HERRING,--Draw me a codicil to this effect: "I leave to my niece +Irene Forsyte, born Irene Heron, by which name she now goes, fifteen +thousand pounds free of legacy duty." 'Yours faithfully, 'JOLYON +FORSYTE.' + +When he had sealed and stamped the envelope, he went back to the window +and drew in a long breath. It was dark, but many stars shone now. + + + + +IV + +He woke at half-past two, an hour which long experience had taught him +brings panic intensity to all awkward thoughts. Experience had also +taught him that a further waking at the proper hour of eight showed the +folly of such panic. On this particular morning the thought which +gathered rapid momentum was that if he became ill, at his age not +improbable, he would not see her. From this it was but a step to +realisation that he would be cut off, too, when his son and June returned +from Spain. How could he justify desire for the company of one who had +stolen--early morning does not mince words--June's lover? That lover +was dead; but June was a stubborn little thing; warm-hearted, but +stubborn as wood, and--quite true--not one who forgot! By the middle of +next month they would be back. He had barely five weeks left to enjoy +the new interest which had come into what remained of his life. Darkness +showed up to him absurdly clear the nature of his feeling. Admiration +for beauty--a craving to see that which delighted his eyes. + +Preposterous, at his age! And yet--what other reason was there for asking +June to undergo such painful reminder, and how prevent his son and his +son's wife from thinking him very queer? He would be reduced to sneaking +up to London, which tired him; and the least indisposition would cut him +off even from that. He lay with eyes open, setting his jaw against the +prospect, and calling himself an old fool, while his heart beat loudly, +and then seemed to stop beating altogether. He had seen the dawn +lighting the window chinks, heard the birds chirp and twitter, and the +cocks crow, before he fell asleep again, and awoke tired but sane. Five +weeks before he need bother, at his age an eternity! But that early +morning panic had left its mark, had slightly fevered the will of one who +had always had his own way. He would see her as often as he wished! Why +not go up to town and make that codicil at his solicitor's instead of +writing about it; she might like to go to the opera! But, by train, for +he would not have that fat chap Beacon grinning behind his back. +Servants were such fools; and, as likely as not, they had known all the +past history of Irene and young Bosinney--servants knew everything, and +suspected the rest. He wrote to her that morning: + +"MY DEAR IRENE,--I have to be up in town to-morrow. If you would like to +have a look in at the opera, come and dine with me quietly ...." + +But where? It was decades since he had dined anywhere in London save at +his Club or at a private house. Ah! that new-fangled place close to +Covent Garden.... + +"Let me have a line to-morrow morning to the Piedmont Hotel whether to +expect you there at 7 o'clock." +"Yours affectionately, +"JOLYON FORSYTE." + +She would understand that he just wanted to give her a little pleasure; +for the idea that she should guess he had this itch to see her was +instinctively unpleasant to him; it was not seemly that one so old should +go out of his way to see beauty, especially in a woman. + +The journey next day, short though it was, and the visit to his lawyer's, +tired him. It was hot too, and after dressing for dinner he lay down on +the sofa in his bedroom to rest a little. He must have had a sort of +fainting fit, for he came to himself feeling very queer; and with some +difficulty rose and rang the bell. Why! it was past seven! And there he +was and she would be waiting. But suddenly the dizziness came on again, +and he was obliged to relapse on the sofa. He heard the maid's voice +say: + +"Did you ring, sir?" + +"Yes, come here"; he could not see her clearly, for the cloud in front of +his eyes. "I'm not well, I want some sal volatile." + +"Yes, sir." Her voice sounded frightened. + +Old Jolyon made an effort. + +"Don't go. Take this message to my niece--a lady waiting in the hall--a +lady in grey. Say Mr. Forsyte is not well--the heat. He is very sorry; +if he is not down directly, she is not to wait dinner." + +When she was gone, he thought feebly: 'Why did I say a lady in grey--she +may be in anything. Sal volatile!' He did not go off again, yet was not +conscious of how Irene came to be standing beside him, holding smelling +salts to his nose, and pushing a pillow up behind his head. He heard her +say anxiously: "Dear Uncle Jolyon, what is it?" was dimly conscious of +the soft pressure of her lips on his hand; then drew a long breath of +smelling salts, suddenly discovered strength in them, and sneezed. + +"Ha!" he said, "it's nothing. How did you get here? Go down and +dine--the tickets are on the dressing-table. I shall be all right in a +minute." + +He felt her cool hand on his forehead, smelled violets, and sat divided +between a sort of pleasure and a determination to be all right. + +"Why! You are in grey!" he said. "Help me up." Once on his feet he gave +himself a shake. + +"What business had I to go off like that!" And he moved very slowly to +the glass. What a cadaverous chap! Her voice, behind him, murmured: + +"You mustn't come down, Uncle; you must rest." + +"Fiddlesticks! A glass of champagne'll soon set me to rights. I can't +have you missing the opera." + +But the journey down the corridor was troublesome. What carpets they had +in these newfangled places, so thick that you tripped up in them at every +step! In the lift he noticed how concerned she looked, and said with the +ghost of a twinkle: + +"I'm a pretty host." + +When the lift stopped he had to hold firmly to the seat to prevent its +slipping under him; but after soup and a glass of champagne he felt much +better, and began to enjoy an infirmity which had brought such solicitude +into her manner towards him. + +"I should have liked you for a daughter," he said suddenly; and watching +the smile in her eyes, went on: + +"You mustn't get wrapped up in the past at your time of life; plenty of +that when you get to my age. That's a nice dress--I like the style." + +"I made it myself." + +Ah! A woman who could make herself a pretty frock had not lost her +interest in life. + +"Make hay while the sun shines," he said; "and drink that up. I want to +see some colour in your cheeks. We mustn't waste life; it doesn't do. +There's a new Marguerite to-night; let's hope she won't be fat. And +Mephisto--anything more dreadful than a fat chap playing the Devil I +can't imagine." + +But they did not go to the opera after all, for in getting up from dinner +the dizziness came over him again, and she insisted on his staying quiet +and going to bed early. When he parted from her at the door of the +hotel, having paid the cabman to drive her to Chelsea, he sat down again +for a moment to enjoy the memory of her words: "You are such a darling to +me, Uncle Jolyon!" Why! Who wouldn't be! He would have liked to stay up +another day and take her to the Zoo, but two days running of him would +bore her to death. No, he must wait till next Sunday; she had promised +to come then. They would settle those lessons for Holly, if only for a +month. It would be something. That little Mam'zelle Beauce wouldn't +like it, but she would have to lump it. And crushing his old opera hat +against his chest he sought the lift. + +He drove to Waterloo next morning, struggling with a desire to say: +'Drive me to Chelsea.' But his sense of proportion was too strong. +Besides, he still felt shaky, and did not want to risk another aberration +like that of last night, away from home. Holly, too, was expecting him, +and what he had in his bag for her. Not that there was any cupboard love +in his little sweet--she was a bundle of affection. Then, with the +rather bitter cynicism of the old, he wondered for a second whether it +was not cupboard love which made Irene put up with him. No, she was not +that sort either. She had, if anything, too little notion of how to +butter her bread, no sense of property, poor thing! Besides, he had not +breathed a word about that codicil, nor should he--sufficient unto the +day was the good thereof. + +In the victoria which met him at the station Holly was restraining the +dog Balthasar, and their caresses made 'jubey' his drive home. All the +rest of that fine hot day and most of the next he was content and +peaceful, reposing in the shade, while the long lingering sunshine +showered gold on the lawns and the flowers. But on Thursday evening at +his lonely dinner he began to count the hours; sixty-five till he would +go down to meet her again in the little coppice, and walk up through the +fields at her side. He had intended to consult the doctor about his +fainting fit, but the fellow would be sure to insist on quiet, no +excitement and all that; and he did not mean to be tied by the leg, did +not want to be told of an infirmity--if there were one, could not afford +to hear of it at his time of life, now that this new interest had come. +And he carefully avoided making any mention of it in a letter to his son. +It would only bring them back with a run! How far this silence was due +to consideration for their pleasure, how far to regard for his own, he +did not pause to consider. + +That night in his study he had just finished his cigar and was dozing +off, when he heard the rustle of a gown, and was conscious of a scent of +violets. Opening his eyes he saw her, dressed in grey, standing by the +fireplace, holding out her arms. The odd thing was that, though those +arms seemed to hold nothing, they were curved as if round someone's neck, +and her own neck was bent back, her lips open, her eyes closed. She +vanished at once, and there were the mantelpiece and his bronzes. But +those bronzes and the mantelpiece had not been there when she was, only +the fireplace and the wall! Shaken and troubled, he got up. 'I must +take medicine,' he thought; 'I can't be well.' His heart beat too fast, +he had an asthmatic feeling in the chest; and going to the window, he +opened it to get some air. A dog was barking far away, one of the dogs +at Gage's farm no doubt, beyond the coppice. A beautiful still night, +but dark. 'I dropped off,' he mused, 'that's it! And yet I'll swear my +eyes were open!' A sound like a sigh seemed to answer. + +"What's that?" he said sharply, "who's there?" + +Putting his hand to his side to still the beating of his heart, he +stepped out on the terrace. Something soft scurried by in the dark. +"Shoo!" It was that great grey cat. 'Young Bosinney was like a great +cat!' he thought. 'It was him in there, that she--that she was--He's +got her still!' He walked to the edge of the terrace, and looked down +into the darkness; he could just see the powdering of the daisies on the +unmown lawn. Here to-day and gone to-morrow! And there came the moon, +who saw all, young and old, alive and dead, and didn't care a dump! His +own turn soon. For a single day of youth he would give what was left! +And he turned again towards the house. He could see the windows of the +night nursery up there. His little sweet would be asleep. 'Hope that +dog won't wake her!' he thought. 'What is it makes us love, and makes us +die! I must go to bed.' + +And across the terrace stones, growing grey in the moonlight, he passed +back within. + +How should an old man live his days if not in dreaming of his well-spent +past? In that, at all events, there is no agitating warmth, only pale +winter sunshine. The shell can withstand the gentle beating of the +dynamos of memory. The present he should distrust; the future shun. +From beneath thick shade he should watch the sunlight creeping at his +toes. If there be sun of summer, let him not go out into it, mistaking +it for the Indian-summer sun! Thus peradventure he shall decline softly, +slowly, imperceptibly, until impatient Nature clutches his wind-pipe and +he gasps away to death some early morning before the world is aired, and +they put on his tombstone: 'In the fulness of years!' yea! If he +preserve his principles in perfect order, a Forsyte may live on long +after he is dead. + +Old Jolyon was conscious of all this, and yet there was in him that which +transcended Forsyteism. For it is written that a Forsyte shall not love +beauty more than reason; nor his own way more than his own health. And +something beat within him in these days that with each throb fretted at +the thinning shell. His sagacity knew this, but it knew too that he +could not stop that beating, nor would if he could. And yet, if you had +told him he was living on his capital, he would have stared you down. +No, no; a man did not live on his capital; it was not done! The +shibboleths of the past are ever more real than the actualities of the +present. And he, to whom living on one's capital had always been +anathema, could not have borne to have applied so gross a phrase to his +own case. Pleasure is healthful; beauty good to see; to live again in the +youth of the young--and what else on earth was he doing! + +Methodically, as had been the way of his whole life, he now arranged his +time. On Tuesdays he journeyed up to town by train; Irene came and dined +with him. And they went to the opera. On Thursdays he drove to town, +and, putting that fat chap and his horses up, met her in Kensington +Gardens, picking up the carriage after he had left her, and driving home +again in time for dinner. He threw out the casual formula that he had +business in London on those two days. On Wednesdays and Saturdays she +came down to give Holly music lessons. The greater the pleasure he took +in her society, the more scrupulously fastidious he became, just a +matter-of-fact and friendly uncle. Not even in feeling, really, was he +more--for, after all, there was his age. And yet, if she were late he +fidgeted himself to death. If she missed coming, which happened twice, +his eyes grew sad as an old dog's, and he failed to sleep. + +And so a month went by--a month of summer in the fields, and in his +heart, with summer's heat and the fatigue thereof. Who could have +believed a few weeks back that he would have looked forward to his son's +and his grand-daughter's return with something like dread! There was such +a delicious freedom, such recovery of that independence a man enjoys +before he founds a family, about these weeks of lovely weather, and this +new companionship with one who demanded nothing, and remained always a +little unknown, retaining the fascination of mystery. It was like a +draught of wine to him who has been drinking water for so long that he +has almost forgotten the stir wine brings to his blood, the narcotic to +his brain. The flowers were coloured brighter, scents and music and the +sunlight had a living value--were no longer mere reminders of past +enjoyment. There was something now to live for which stirred him +continually to anticipation. He lived in that, not in retrospection; the +difference is considerable to any so old as he. The pleasures of the +table, never of much consequence to one naturally abstemious, had lost +all value. He ate little, without knowing what he ate; and every day +grew thinner and more worn to look at. He was again a 'threadpaper'; and +to this thinned form his massive forehead, with hollows at the temples, +gave more dignity than ever. He was very well aware that he ought to see +the doctor, but liberty was too sweet. He could not afford to pet his +frequent shortness of breath and the pain in his side at the expense of +liberty. Return to the vegetable existence he had led among the +agricultural journals with the life-size mangold wurzels, before this new +attraction came into his life--no! He exceeded his allowance of cigars. +Two a day had always been his rule. Now he smoked three and sometimes +four--a man will when he is filled with the creative spirit. But very +often he thought: 'I must give up smoking, and coffee; I must give up +rattling up to town.' But he did not; there was no one in any sort of +authority to notice him, and this was a priceless boon. + +The servants perhaps wondered, but they were, naturally, dumb. Mam'zelle +Beauce was too concerned with her own digestion, and too 'wellbrrred' to +make personal allusions. Holly had not as yet an eye for the relative +appearance of him who was her plaything and her god. It was left for +Irene herself to beg him to eat more, to rest in the hot part of the day, +to take a tonic, and so forth. But she did not tell him that she was the +a cause of his thinness--for one cannot see the havoc oneself is +working. A man of eighty-five has no passions, but the Beauty which +produces passion works on in the old way, till death closes the eyes +which crave the sight of Her. + +On the first day of the second week in July he received a letter from his +son in Paris to say that they would all be back on Friday. This had +always been more sure than Fate; but, with the pathetic improvidence +given to the old, that they may endure to the end, he had never quite +admitted it. Now he did, and something would have to be done. He had +ceased to be able to imagine life without this new interest, but that +which is not imagined sometimes exists, as Forsytes are perpetually +finding to their cost. He sat in his old leather chair, doubling up the +letter, and mumbling with his lips the end of an unlighted cigar. After +to-morrow his Tuesday expeditions to town would have to be abandoned. He +could still drive up, perhaps, once a week, on the pretext of seeing his +man of business. But even that would be dependent on his health, for now +they would begin to fuss about him. The lessons! The lessons must go +on! She must swallow down her scruples, and June must put her feelings +in her pocket. She had done so once, on the day after the news of +Bosinney's death; what she had done then, she could surely do again now. +Four years since that injury was inflicted on her--not Christian to keep +the memory of old sores alive. June's will was strong, but his was +stronger, for his sands were running out. Irene was soft, surely she +would do this for him, subdue her natural shrinking, sooner than give him +pain! The lessons must continue; for if they did, he was secure. And +lighting his cigar at last, he began trying to shape out how to put it to +them all, and explain this strange intimacy; how to veil and wrap it away +from the naked truth--that he could not bear to be deprived of the sight +of beauty. Ah! Holly! Holly was fond of her, Holly liked her lessons. +She would save him--his little sweet! And with that happy thought he +became serene, and wondered what he had been worrying about so fearfully. +He must not worry, it left him always curiously weak, and as if but half +present in his own body. + +That evening after dinner he had a return of the dizziness, though he did +not faint. He would not ring the bell, because he knew it would mean a +fuss, and make his going up on the morrow more conspicuous. When one +grew old, the whole world was in conspiracy to limit freedom, and for +what reason?--just to keep the breath in him a little longer. He did not +want it at such cost. Only the dog Balthasar saw his lonely recovery +from that weakness; anxiously watched his master go to the sideboard and +drink some brandy, instead of giving him a biscuit. When at last old +Jolyon felt able to tackle the stairs he went up to bed. And, though +still shaky next morning, the thought of the evening sustained and +strengthened him. It was always such a pleasure to give her a good +dinner--he suspected her of undereating when she was alone; and, at the +opera to watch her eyes glow and brighten, the unconscious smiling of her +lips. She hadn't much pleasure, and this was the last time he would be +able to give her that treat. But when he was packing his bag he caught +himself wishing that he had not the fatigue of dressing for dinner before +him, and the exertion, too, of telling her about June's return. + +The opera that evening was 'Carmen,' and he chose the last entr'acte to +break the news, instinctively putting it off till the latest moment. + +She took it quietly, queerly; in fact, he did not know how she had taken +it before the wayward music lifted up again and silence became necessary. +The mask was down over her face, that mask behind which so much went on +that he could not see. She wanted time to think it over, no doubt! He +would not press her, for she would be coming to give her lesson to-morrow +afternoon, and he should see her then when she had got used to the idea. +In the cab he talked only of the Carmen; he had seen better in the old +days, but this one was not bad at all. When he took her hand to say +good-night, she bent quickly forward and kissed his forehead. + +"Good-bye, dear Uncle Jolyon, you have been so sweet to me." + +"To-morrow then," he said. "Good-night. Sleep well." She echoed +softly: "Sleep well" and from the cab window, already moving away, he saw +her face screwed round towards him, and her hand put out in a gesture +which seemed to linger. + +He sought his room slowly. They never gave him the same, and he could +not get used to these 'spick-and-spandy' bedrooms with new furniture and +grey-green carpets sprinkled all over with pink roses. He was wakeful +and that wretched Habanera kept throbbing in his head. + +His French had never been equal to its words, but its sense he knew, if +it had any sense, a gipsy thing--wild and unaccountable. Well, there was +in life something which upset all your care and plans--something which +made men and women dance to its pipes. And he lay staring from deep-sunk +eyes into the darkness where the unaccountable held sway. You thought +you had hold of life, but it slipped away behind you, took you by the +scruff of the neck, forced you here and forced you there, and then, +likely as not, squeezed life out of you! It took the very stars like +that, he shouldn't wonder, rubbed their noses together and flung them +apart; it had never done playing its pranks. Five million people in this +great blunderbuss of a town, and all of them at the mercy of that +Life-Force, like a lot of little dried peas hopping about on a board when +you struck your fist on it. Ah, well! Himself would not hop much +longer--a good long sleep would do him good! + +How hot it was up here!--how noisy! His forehead burned; she had kissed +it just where he always worried; just there--as if she had known the very +place and wanted to kiss it all away for him. But, instead, her lips +left a patch of grievous uneasiness. She had never spoken in quite that +voice, had never before made that lingering gesture or looked back at him +as she drove away. + +He got out of bed and pulled the curtains aside; his room faced down over +the river. There was little air, but the sight of that breadth of water +flowing by, calm, eternal, soothed him. 'The great thing,' he thought +'is not to make myself a nuisance. I'll think of my little sweet, and go +to sleep.' But it was long before the heat and throbbing of the London +night died out into the short slumber of the summer morning. And old +Jolyon had but forty winks. + +When he reached home next day he went out to the flower garden, and with +the help of Holly, who was very delicate with flowers, gathered a great +bunch of carnations. They were, he told her, for 'the lady in grey'--a +name still bandied between them; and he put them in a bowl in his study +where he meant to tackle Irene the moment she came, on the subject of +June and future lessons. Their fragrance and colour would help. After +lunch he lay down, for he felt very tired, and the carriage would not +bring her from the station till four o'clock. But as the hour approached +he grew restless, and sought the schoolroom, which overlooked the drive. +The sun-blinds were down, and Holly was there with Mademoiselle Beauce, +sheltered from the heat of a stifling July day, attending to their +silkworms. Old Jolyon had a natural antipathy to these methodical +creatures, whose heads and colour reminded him of elephants; who nibbled +such quantities of holes in nice green leaves; and smelled, as he +thought, horrid. He sat down on a chintz-covered windowseat whence he +could see the drive, and get what air there was; and the dog Balthasar +who appreciated chintz on hot days, jumped up beside him. Over the +cottage piano a violet dust-sheet, faded almost to grey, was spread, and +on it the first lavender, whose scent filled the room. In spite of the +coolness here, perhaps because of that coolness the beat of life +vehemently impressed his ebbed-down senses. Each sunbeam which came +through the chinks had annoying brilliance; that dog smelled very strong; +the lavender perfume was overpowering; those silkworms heaving up their +grey-green backs seemed horribly alive; and Holly's dark head bent over +them had a wonderfully silky sheen. A marvellous cruelly strong thing +was life when you were old and weak; it seemed to mock you with its +multitude of forms and its beating vitality. He had never, till those +last few weeks, had this curious feeling of being with one half of him +eagerly borne along in the stream of life, and with the other half left +on the bank, watching that helpless progress. Only when Irene was with +him did he lose this double consciousness. + +Holly turned her head, pointed with her little brown fist to the +piano--for to point with a finger was not 'well-brrred'--and said slyly: + +"Look at the 'lady in grey,' Gran; isn't she pretty to-day?" + +Old Jolyon's heart gave a flutter, and for a second the room was clouded; +then it cleared, and he said with a twinkle: + +"Who's been dressing her up?" + +"Mam'zelle." + +"Hollee! Don't be foolish!" + +That prim little Frenchwoman! She hadn't yet got over the music lessons +being taken away from her. That wouldn't help. His little sweet was the +only friend they had. Well, they were her lessons. And he shouldn't +budge shouldn't budge for anything. He stroked the warm wool on +Balthasar's head, and heard Holly say: "When mother's home, there won't +be any changes, will there? She doesn't like strangers, you know." + +The child's words seemed to bring the chilly atmosphere of opposition +about old Jolyon, and disclose all the menace to his new-found freedom. +Ah! He would have to resign himself to being an old man at the mercy of +care and love, or fight to keep this new and prized companionship; and to +fight tired him to death. But his thin, worn face hardened into +resolution till it appeared all Jaw. This was his house, and his affair; +he should not budge! He looked at his watch, old and thin like himself; +he had owned it fifty years. Past four already! And kissing the top of +Holly's head in passing, he went down to the hall. He wanted to get hold +of her before she went up to give her lesson. At the first sound of +wheels he stepped out into the porch, and saw at once that the victoria +was empty. + +"The train's in, sir; but the lady 'asn't come." + +Old Jolyon gave him a sharp upward look, his eyes seemed to push away +that fat chap's curiosity, and defy him to see the bitter disappointment +he was feeling. + +"Very well," he said, and turned back into the house. He went to his +study and sat down, quivering like a leaf. What did this mean? She might +have lost her train, but he knew well enough she hadn't. 'Good-bye, dear +Uncle Jolyon.' Why 'Good-bye' and not 'Good-night'? And that hand of +hers lingering in the air. And her kiss. What did it mean? Vehement +alarm and irritation took possession of him. He got up and began to pace +the Turkey carpet, between window and wall. She was going to give him +up! He felt it for certain--and he defenceless. An old man wanting to +look on beauty! It was ridiculous! Age closed his mouth, paralysed his +power to fight. He had no right to what was warm and living, no right to +anything but memories and sorrow. He could not plead with her; even an +old man has his dignity. Defenceless! For an hour, lost to bodily +fatigue, he paced up and down, past the bowl of carnations he had +plucked, which mocked him with its scent. Of all things hard to bear, +the prostration of will-power is hardest, for one who has always had his +way. Nature had got him in its net, and like an unhappy fish he turned +and swam at the meshes, here and there, found no hole, no breaking point. +They brought him tea at five o'clock, and a letter. For a moment hope +beat up in him. He cut the envelope with the butter knife, and read: + +"DEAREST UNCLE JOLYON,--I can't bear to write anything that may +disappoint you, but I was too cowardly to tell you last night. I feel I +can't come down and give Holly any more lessons, now that June is coming +back. Some things go too deep to be forgotten. It has been such a joy +to see you and Holly. Perhaps I shall still see you sometimes when you +come up, though I'm sure it's not good for you; I can see you are tiring +yourself too much. I believe you ought to rest quite quietly all this +hot weather, and now you have your son and June coming back you will be +so happy. Thank you a million times for all your sweetness to me. + +"Lovingly your IRENE." + +So, there it was! Not good for him to have pleasure and what he chiefly +cared about; to try and put off feeling the inevitable end of all things, +the approach of death with its stealthy, rustling footsteps. Not good +for him! Not even she could see how she was his new lease of interest in +life, the incarnation of all the beauty he felt slipping from him. + +His tea grew cold, his cigar remained unlit; and up and down he paced, +torn between his dignity and his hold on life. Intolerable to be +squeezed out slowly, without a say of your own, to live on when your will +was in the hands of others bent on weighing you to the ground with care +and love. Intolerable! He would see what telling her the truth would +do--the truth that he wanted the sight of her more than just a lingering +on. He sat down at his old bureau and took a pen. But he could not +write. There was something revolting in having to plead like this; plead +that she should warm his eyes with her beauty. It was tantamount to +confessing dotage. He simply could not. And instead, he wrote: + +"I had hoped that the memory of old sores would not be allowed to stand +in the way of what is a pleasure and a profit to me and my little +grand-daughter. But old men learn to forego their whims; they are +obliged to, even the whim to live must be foregone sooner or later; and +perhaps the sooner the better. +"My love to you, +"JOLYON FORSYTE." + +'Bitter,' he thought, 'but I can't help it. I'm tired.' He sealed and +dropped it into the box for the evening post, and hearing it fall to the +bottom, thought: 'There goes all I've looked forward to!' + +That evening after dinner which he scarcely touched, after his cigar +which he left half-smoked for it made him feel faint, he went very slowly +upstairs and stole into the night-nursery. He sat down on the +window-seat. A night-light was burning, and he could just see Holly's +face, with one hand underneath the cheek. An early cockchafer buzzed in +the Japanese paper with which they had filled the grate, and one of the +horses in the stable stamped restlessly. To sleep like that child! He +pressed apart two rungs of the venetian blind and looked out. The moon +was rising, blood-red. He had never seen so red a moon. The woods and +fields out there were dropping to sleep too, in the last glimmer of the +summer light. And beauty, like a spirit, walked. 'I've had a long life,' +he thought, 'the best of nearly everything. I'm an ungrateful chap; I've +seen a lot of beauty in my time. Poor young Bosinney said I had a sense +of beauty. There's a man in the moon to-night!' A moth went by, +another, another. 'Ladies in grey!' He closed his eyes. A feeling that +he would never open them again beset him; he let it grow, let himself +sink; then, with a shiver, dragged the lids up. There was something +wrong with him, no doubt, deeply wrong; he would have to have the doctor +after all. It didn't much matter now! Into that coppice the moon-light +would have crept; there would be shadows, and those shadows would be the +only things awake. No birds, beasts, flowers, insects; Just the shadows +--moving; 'Ladies in grey!' Over that log they would climb; would +whisper together. She and Bosinney! Funny thought! And the frogs and +little things would whisper too! How the clock ticked, in here! It was +all eerie--out there in the light of that red moon; in here with the +little steady night-light and, the ticking clock and the nurse's +dressing-gown hanging from the edge of the screen, tall, like a woman's +figure. 'Lady in grey!' And a very odd thought beset him: Did she +exist? Had she ever come at all? Or was she but the emanation of all +the beauty he had loved and must leave so soon? The violet-grey spirit +with the dark eyes and the crown of amber hair, who walks the dawn and +the moonlight, and at blue-bell time? What was she, who was she, did she +exist? He rose and stood a moment clutching the window-sill, to give him +a sense of reality again; then began tiptoeing towards the door. He +stopped at the foot of the bed; and Holly, as if conscious of his eyes +fixed on her, stirred, sighed, and curled up closer in defence. He +tiptoed on and passed out into the dark passage; reached his room, +undressed at once, and stood before a mirror in his night-shirt. What a +scarecrow--with temples fallen in, and thin legs! His eyes resisted his +own image, and a look of pride came on his face. All was in league to +pull him down, even his reflection in the glass, but he was not +down--yet! He got into bed, and lay a long time without sleeping, trying +to reach resignation, only too well aware that fretting and +disappointment were very bad for him. + +He woke in the morning so unrefreshed and strengthless that he sent for +the doctor. After sounding him, the fellow pulled a face as long as your +arm, and ordered him to stay in bed and give up smoking. That was no +hardship; there was nothing to get up for, and when he felt ill, tobacco +always lost its savour. He spent the morning languidly with the +sun-blinds down, turning and re-turning The Times, not reading much, the +dog Balthasar lying beside his bed. With his lunch they brought him a +telegram, running thus: + +'Your letter received coming down this afternoon will be with you at +four-thirty. Irene.' + +Coming down! After all! Then she did exist--and he was not deserted. +Coming down! A glow ran through his limbs; his cheeks and forehead felt +hot. He drank his soup, and pushed the tray-table away, lying very quiet +until they had removed lunch and left him alone; but every now and then +his eyes twinkled. Coming down! His heart beat fast, and then did not +seem to beat at all. At three o'clock he got up and dressed +deliberately, noiselessly. Holly and Mam'zelle would be in the +schoolroom, and the servants asleep after their dinner, he shouldn't +wonder. He opened his door cautiously, and went downstairs. In the hall +the dog Balthasar lay solitary, and, followed by him, old Jolyon passed +into his study and out into the burning afternoon. He meant to go down +and meet her in the coppice, but felt at once he could not manage that in +this heat. He sat down instead under the oak tree by the swing, and the +dog Balthasar, who also felt the heat, lay down beside him. He sat there +smiling. What a revel of bright minutes! What a hum of insects, and +cooing of pigeons! It was the quintessence of a summer day. Lovely! +And he was happy--happy as a sand-boy, whatever that might be. She was +coming; she had not given him up! He had everything in life he +wanted--except a little more breath, and less weight--just here! He +would see her when she emerged from the fernery, come swaying just a +little, a violet-grey figure passing over the daisies and dandelions and +'soldiers' on the lawn--the soldiers with their flowery crowns. He would +not move, but she would come up to him and say: 'Dear Uncle Jolyon, I am +sorry!' and sit in the swing and let him look at her and tell her that he +had not been very well but was all right now; and that dog would lick her +hand. That dog knew his master was fond of her; that dog was a good dog. + +It was quite shady under the tree; the sun could not get at him, only +make the rest of the world bright so that he could see the Grand Stand at +Epsom away out there, very far, and the cows cropping the clover in the +field and swishing at the flies with their tails. He smelled the scent +of limes, and lavender. Ah! that was why there was such a racket of +bees. They were excited--busy, as his heart was busy and excited. +Drowsy, too, drowsy and drugged on honey and happiness; as his heart was +drugged and drowsy. Summer--summer--they seemed saying; great bees and +little bees, and the flies too! + +The stable clock struck four; in half an hour she would be here. He would +have just one tiny nap, because he had had so little sleep of late; and +then he would be fresh for her, fresh for youth and beauty, coming +towards him across the sunlit lawn--lady in grey! And settling back in +his chair he closed his eyes. Some thistle-down came on what little air +there was, and pitched on his moustache more white than itself. He did +not know; but his breathing stirred it, caught there. A ray of sunlight +struck through and lodged on his boot. A bumble-bee alighted and +strolled on the crown of his Panama hat. And the delicious surge of +slumber reached the brain beneath that hat, and the head swayed forward +and rested on his breast. Summer--summer! So went the hum. + +The stable clock struck the quarter past. The dog Balthasar stretched +and looked up at his master. The thistledown no longer moved. The dog +placed his chin over the sunlit foot. It did not stir. The dog withdrew +his chin quickly, rose, and leaped on old Jolyon's lap, looked in his +face, whined; then, leaping down, sat on his haunches, gazing up. And +suddenly he uttered a long, long howl. + +But the thistledown was still as death, and the face of his old master. + +Summer--summer--summer! The soundless footsteps on the grass! +1917 + + + + +IN CHANCERY + +Two households both alike in dignity, From ancient grudge, break into new +mutiny. + +--Romeo and Juliet +TO JESSIE AND JOSEPH CONRAD + + + + +PART 1 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +AT TIMOTHY'S + +The possessive instinct never stands still. Through florescence and +feud, frosts and fires, it followed the laws of progression even in the +Forsyte family which had believed it fixed for ever. Nor can it be +dissociated from environment any more than the quality of potato from the +soil. + +The historian of the English eighties and nineties will, in his good +time, depict the somewhat rapid progression from self-contented and +contained provincialism to still more self-contented if less contained +imperialism--in other words, the 'possessive' instinct of the nation on +the move. And so, as if in conformity, was it with the Forsyte family. +They were spreading not merely on the surface, but within. + +When, in 1895, Susan Hayman, the married Forsyte sister, followed her +husband at the ludicrously low age of seventy-four, and was cremated, it +made strangely little stir among the six old Forsytes left. For this +apathy there were three causes. First: the almost surreptitious burial +of old Jolyon in 1892 down at Robin Hill--first of the Forsytes to +desert the family grave at Highgate. That burial, coming a year after +Swithin's entirely proper funeral, had occasioned a great deal of talk on +Forsyte 'Change, the abode of Timothy Forsyte on the Bayswater Road, +London, which still collected and radiated family gossip. Opinions +ranged from the lamentation of Aunt Juley to the outspoken assertion of +Francie that it was 'a jolly good thing to stop all that stuffy Highgate +business.' Uncle Jolyon in his later years--indeed, ever since the +strange and lamentable affair between his granddaughter June's lover, +young Bosinney, and Irene, his nephew Soames Forsyte's wife--had +noticeably rapped the family's knuckles; and that way of his own which he +had always taken had begun to seem to them a little wayward. The +philosophic vein in him, of course, had always been too liable to crop +out of the strata of pure Forsyteism, so they were in a way prepared for +his interment in a strange spot. But the whole thing was an odd +business, and when the contents of his Will became current coin on +Forsyte 'Change, a shiver had gone round the clan. Out of his estate +(L145,304 gross, with liabilities L35 7s. 4d.) he had actually left +L15,000 to "whomever do you think, my dear? To Irene!" that runaway wife +of his nephew Soames; Irene, a woman who had almost disgraced the family, +and--still more amazing was to him no blood relation. Not out and out, +of course; only a life interest--only the income from it! Still, there +it was; and old Jolyon's claim to be the perfect Forsyte was ended once +for all. That, then, was the first reason why the burial of Susan +Hayman--at Woking--made little stir. + +The second reason was altogether more expansive and imperial. Besides the +house on Campden Hill, Susan had a place (left her by Hayman when he +died) just over the border in Hants, where the Hayman boys had learned to +be such good shots and riders, as it was believed, which was of course +nice for them, and creditable to everybody; and the fact of owning +something really countrified seemed somehow to excuse the dispersion of +her remains--though what could have put cremation into her head they +could not think! The usual invitations, however, had been issued, and +Soames had gone down and young Nicholas, and the Will had been quite +satisfactory so far as it went, for she had only had a life interest; and +everything had gone quite smoothly to the children in equal shares. + +The third reason why Susan's burial made little stir was the most +expansive of all. It was summed up daringly by Euphemia, the pale, the +thin: "Well, I think people have a right to their own bodies, even when +they're dead." Coming from a daughter of Nicholas, a Liberal of the old +school and most tyrannical, it was a startling remark--showing in a flash +what a lot of water had run under bridges since the death of Aunt Ann in +'86, just when the proprietorship of Soames over his wife's body was +acquiring the uncertainty which had led to such disaster. Euphemia, of +course, spoke like a child, and had no experience; for though well over +thirty by now, her name was still Forsyte. But, making all allowances, +her remark did undoubtedly show expansion of the principle of liberty, +decentralisation and shift in the central point of possession from others +to oneself. When Nicholas heard his daughter's remark from Aunt Hester +he had rapped out: "Wives and daughters! There's no end to their liberty +in these days. I knew that 'Jackson' case would lead to things--lugging +in Habeas Corpus like that!" He had, of course, never really forgiven +the Married Woman's Property Act, which would so have interfered with him +if he had not mercifully married before it was passed. But, in truth, +there was no denying the revolt among the younger Forsytes against being +owned by others; that, as it were, Colonial disposition to own oneself, +which is the paradoxical forerunner of Imperialism, was making progress +all the time. They were all now married, except George, confirmed to the +Turf and the Iseeum Club; Francie, pursuing her musical career in a +studio off the King's Road, Chelsea, and still taking 'lovers' to dances; +Euphemia, living at home and complaining of Nicholas; and those two +Dromios, Giles and Jesse Hayman. Of the third generation there were not +very many--young Jolyon had three, Winifred Dartie four, young Nicholas +six already, young Roger had one, Marian Tweetyman one; St. John Hayman +two. But the rest of the sixteen married--Soames, Rachel and Cicely of +James' family; Eustace and Thomas of Roger's; Ernest, Archibald and +Florence of Nicholas'; Augustus and Annabel Spender of the Hayman's--were +going down the years unreproduced. + +Thus, of the ten old Forsytes twenty-one young Forsytes had been born; +but of the twenty-one young Forsytes there were as yet only seventeen +descendants; and it already seemed unlikely that there would be more than +a further unconsidered trifle or so. A student of statistics must have +noticed that the birth rate had varied in accordance with the rate of +interest for your money. Grandfather 'Superior Dosset' Forsyte in the +early nineteenth century had been getting ten per cent. for his, hence +ten children. Those ten, leaving out the four who had not married, and +Juley, whose husband Septimus Small had, of course, died almost at once, +had averaged from four to five per cent. for theirs, and produced +accordingly. The twenty-one whom they produced were now getting barely +three per cent. in the Consols to which their father had mostly tied the +Settlements they made to avoid death duties, and the six of them who had +been reproduced had seventeen children, or just the proper two and +five-sixths per stem. + +There were other reasons, too, for this mild reproduction. A distrust of +their earning powers, natural where a sufficiency is guaranteed, together +with the knowledge that their fathers did not die, kept them cautious. +If one had children and not much income, the standard of taste and +comfort must of necessity go down; what was enough for two was not enough +for four, and so on--it would be better to wait and see what Father did. +Besides, it was nice to be able to take holidays unhampered. Sooner in +fact than own children, they preferred to concentrate on the ownership of +themselves, conforming to the growing tendency fin de siecle, as it was +called. In this way, little risk was run, and one would be able to have +a motor-car. Indeed, Eustace already had one, but it had shaken him +horribly, and broken one of his eye teeth; so that it would be better to +wait till they were a little safer. In the meantime, no more children! +Even young Nicholas was drawing in his horns, and had made no addition to +his six for quite three years. + +The corporate decay, however, of the Forsytes, their dispersion rather, +of which all this was symptomatic, had not advanced so far as to prevent +a rally when Roger Forsyte died in 1899. It had been a glorious summer, +and after holidays abroad and at the sea they were practically all back +in London, when Roger with a touch of his old originality had suddenly +breathed his last at his own house in Princes Gardens. At Timothy's it +was whispered sadly that poor Roger had always been eccentric about his +digestion--had he not, for instance, preferred German mutton to all the +other brands? + +Be that as it may, his funeral at Highgate had been perfect, and coming +away from it Soames Forsyte made almost mechanically for his Uncle +Timothy's in the Bayswater Road. The 'Old Things'--Aunt Juley and Aunt +Hester--would like to hear about it. His father--James--at eighty-eight +had not felt up to the fatigue of the funeral; and Timothy himself, of +course, had not gone; so that Nicholas had been the only brother present. +Still, there had been a fair gathering; and it would cheer Aunts Juley +and Hester up to know. The kindly thought was not unmixed with the +inevitable longing to get something out of everything you do, which is +the chief characteristic of Forsytes, and indeed of the saner elements in +every nation. In this practice of taking family matters to Timothy's in +the Bayswater Road, Soames was but following in the footsteps of his +father, who had been in the habit of going at least once a week to see +his sisters at Timothy's, and had only given it up when he lost his nerve +at eighty-six, and could not go out without Emily. To go with Emily was +of no use, for who could really talk to anyone in the presence of his own +wife? Like James in the old days, Soames found time to go there nearly +every Sunday, and sit in the little drawing-room into which, with his +undoubted taste, he had introduced a good deal of change and china not +quite up to his own fastidious mark, and at least two rather doubtful +Barbizon pictures, at Christmastides. He himself, who had done extremely +well with the Barbizons, had for some years past moved towards the +Marises, Israels, and Mauve, and was hoping to do better. In the +riverside house which he now inhabited near Mapledurham he had a gallery, +beautifully hung and lighted, to which few London dealers were strangers. +It served, too, as a Sunday afternoon attraction in those week-end +parties which his sisters, Winifred or Rachel, occasionally organised for +him. For though he was but a taciturn showman, his quiet collected +determinism seldom failed to influence his guests, who knew that his +reputation was grounded not on mere aesthetic fancy, but on his power of +gauging the future of market values. When he went to Timothy's he almost +always had some little tale of triumph over a dealer to unfold, and +dearly he loved that coo of pride with which his aunts would greet it. +This afternoon, however, he was differently animated, coming from Roger's +funeral in his neat dark clothes--not quite black, for after all an uncle +was but an uncle, and his soul abhorred excessive display of feeling. +Leaning back in a marqueterie chair and gazing down his uplifted nose at +the sky-blue walls plastered with gold frames, he was noticeably silent. +Whether because he had been to a funeral or not, the peculiar Forsyte +build of his face was seen to the best advantage this afternoon--a face +concave and long, with a jaw which divested of flesh would have seemed +extravagant: altogether a chinny face though not at all ill-looking. He +was feeling more strongly than ever that Timothy's was hopelessly +'rum-ti-too' and the souls of his aunts dismally mid-Victorian. The +subject on which alone he wanted to talk--his own undivorced +position--was unspeakable. And yet it occupied his mind to the exclusion +of all else. It was only since the Spring that this had been so and a +new feeling grown up which was egging him on towards what he knew might +well be folly in a Forsyte of forty-five. More and more of late he had +been conscious that he was 'getting on.' The fortune already +considerable when he conceived the house at Robin Hill which had finally +wrecked his marriage with Irene, had mounted with surprising vigour in +the twelve lonely years during which he had devoted himself to little +else. He was worth to-day well over a hundred thousand pounds, and had +no one to leave it to--no real object for going on with what was his +religion. Even if he were to relax his efforts, money made money, and he +felt that he would have a hundred and fifty thousand before he knew where +he was. There had always been a strongly domestic, philoprogenitive side +to Soames; baulked and frustrated, it had hidden itself away, but now had +crept out again in this his 'prime of life.' Concreted and focussed of +late by the attraction of a girl's undoubted beauty, it had become a +veritable prepossession. + +And this girl was French, not likely to lose her head, or accept any +unlegalised position. Moreover, Soames himself disliked the thought of +that. He had tasted of the sordid side of sex during those long years of +forced celibacy, secretively, and always with disgust, for he was +fastidious, and his sense of law and order innate. He wanted no hole and +corner liaison. A marriage at the Embassy in Paris, a few months' +travel, and he could bring Annette back quite separated from a past which +in truth was not too distinguished, for she only kept the accounts in her +mother's Soho Restaurant; he could bring her back as something very new +and chic with her French taste and self-possession, to reign at 'The +Shelter' near Mapledurham. On Forsyte 'Change and among his riverside +friends it would be current that he had met a charming French girl on his +travels and married her. There would be the flavour of romance, and a +certain cachet about a French wife. No! He was not at all afraid of +that. It was only this cursed undivorced condition of his, and--and the +question whether Annette would take him, which he dared not put to the +touch until he had a clear and even dazzling future to offer her. + +In his aunts' drawing-room he heard with but muffled ears those usual +questions: How was his dear father? Not going out, of course, now that +the weather was turning chilly? Would Soames be sure to tell him that +Hester had found boiled holly leaves most comforting for that pain in her +side; a poultice every three hours, with red flannel afterwards. And +could he relish just a little pot of their very best prune preserve--it +was so delicious this year, and had such a wonderful effect. Oh! and +about the Darties--had Soames heard that dear Winifred was having a most +distressing time with Montague? Timothy thought she really ought to have +protection It was said--but Soames mustn't take this for certain--that he +had given some of Winifred's jewellery to a dreadful dancer. It was such +a bad example for dear Val just as he was going to college. Soames had +not heard? Oh, but he must go and see his sister and look into it at +once! And did he think these Boers were really going to resist? Timothy +was in quite a stew about it. The price of Consols was so high, and he +had such a lot of money in them. Did Soames think they must go down if +there was a war? Soames nodded. But it would be over very quickly. It +would be so bad for Timothy if it wasn't. And of course Soames' dear +father would feel it very much at his age. Luckily poor dear Roger had +been spared this dreadful anxiety. And Aunt Juley with a little +handkerchief wiped away the large tear trying to climb the permanent pout +on her now quite withered left cheek; she was remembering dear Roger, and +all his originality, and how he used to stick pins into her when they +were little together. Aunt Hester, with her instinct for avoiding the +unpleasant, here chimed in: Did Soames think they would make Mr. +Chamberlain Prime Minister at once? He would settle it all so quickly. +She would like to see that old Kruger sent to St. Helena. She could +remember so well the news of Napoleon's death, and what a, relief it had +been to his grandfather. Of course she and Juley--"We were in +pantalettes then, my dear"--had not felt it much at the time. + +Soames took a cup of tea from her, drank it quickly, and ate three of +those macaroons for which Timothy's was famous. His faint, pale, +supercilious smile had deepened just a little. Really, his family +remained hopelessly provincial, however much of London they might possess +between them. In these go-ahead days their provincialism stared out even +more than it used to. Why, old Nicholas was still a Free Trader, and a +member of that antediluvian home of Liberalism, the Remove Club--though, +to be sure, the members were pretty well all Conservatives now, or he +himself could not have joined; and Timothy, they said, still wore a +nightcap. Aunt Juley spoke again. Dear Soames was looking so well, +hardly a day older than he did when dear Ann died, and they were all +there together, dear Jolyon, and dear Swithin, and dear Roger. She +paused and caught the tear which had climbed the pout on her right cheek. +Did he--did he ever hear anything of Irene nowadays? Aunt Hester visibly +interposed her shoulder. Really, Juley was always saying something! The +smile left Soames' face, and he put his cup down. Here was his subject +broached for him, and for all his desire to expand, he could not take +advantage. + +Aunt Juley went on rather hastily: + +"They say dear Jolyon first left her that fifteen thousand out and out; +then of course he saw it would not be right, and made it for her life +only." + +Had Soames heard that? + +Soames nodded. + +"Your cousin Jolyon is a widower now. He is her trustee; you knew that, +of course?" + +Soames shook his head. He did know, but wished to show no interest. +Young Jolyon and he had not met since the day of Bosinney's death. + +"He must be quite middle-aged by now," went on Aunt Juley dreamily. "Let +me see, he was born when your dear uncle lived in Mount Street; long +before they went to Stanhope Gate in December. Just before that dreadful +Commune. Over fifty! Fancy that! Such a pretty baby, and we were all +so proud of him; the very first of you all." Aunt Juley sighed, and a +lock of not quite her own hair came loose and straggled, so that Aunt +Hester gave a little shiver. Soames rose, he was experiencing a curious +piece of self-discovery. That old wound to his pride and self-esteem was +not yet closed. He had come thinking he could talk of it, even wanting +to talk of his fettered condition, and--behold! he was shrinking away +from this reminder by Aunt Juley, renowned for her Malapropisms. + +Oh, Soames was not going already! + +Soames smiled a little vindictively, and said: + +"Yes. Good-bye. Remember me to Uncle Timothy!" And, leaving a cold +kiss on each forehead, whose wrinkles seemed to try and cling to his lips +as if longing to be kissed away, he left them looking brightly after +him--dear Soames, it had been so good of him to come to-day, when they +were not feeling very....! + +With compunction tweaking at his chest Soames descended the stairs, where +was always that rather pleasant smell of camphor and port wine, and house +where draughts are not permitted. The poor old things--he had not meant +to be unkind! And in the street he instantly forgot them, repossessed by +the image of Annette and the thought of the cursed coil around him. Why +had he not pushed the thing through and obtained divorce when that +wretched Bosinney was run over, and there was evidence galore for the +asking! And he turned towards his sister Winifred Dartie's residence in +Green Street, Mayfair. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +EXIT A MAN OF THE WORLD + +That a man of the world so subject to the vicissitudes of fortunes as +Montague Dartie should still be living in a house he had inhabited twenty +years at least would have been more noticeable if the rent, rates, taxes, +and repairs of that house had not been defrayed by his father-in-law. By +that simple if wholesale device James Forsyte had secured a certain +stability in the lives of his daughter and his grandchildren. After all, +there is something invaluable about a safe roof over the head of a +sportsman so dashing as Dartie. Until the events of the last few days he +had been almost-supernaturally steady all this year. The fact was he had +acquired a half share in a filly of George Forsyte's, who had gone +irreparably on the turf, to the horror of Roger, now stilled by the +grave. Sleeve-links, by Martyr, out of Shirt-on-fire, by Suspender, was +a bay filly, three years old, who for a variety of reasons had never +shown her true form. With half ownership of this hopeful animal, all the +idealism latent somewhere in Dartie, as in every other man, had put up +its head, and kept him quietly ardent for months past. When a man has +some thing good to live for it is astonishing how sober he becomes; and +what Dartie had was really good--a three to one chance for an autumn +handicap, publicly assessed at twenty-five to one. The old-fashioned +heaven was a poor thing beside it, and his shirt was on the daughter of +Shirt-on-fire. But how much more than his shirt depended on this +granddaughter of Suspender! At that roving age of forty-five, trying to +Forsytes--and, though perhaps less distinguishable from any other age, +trying even to Darties--Montague had fixed his current fancy on a dancer. +It was no mean passion, but without money, and a good deal of it, likely +to remain a love as airy as her skirts; and Dartie never had any money, +subsisting miserably on what he could beg or borrow from Winifred--a +woman of character, who kept him because he was the father of her +children, and from a lingering admiration for those now-dying Wardour +Street good looks which in their youth had fascinated her. She, together +with anyone else who would lend him anything, and his losses at cards and +on the turf (extraordinary how some men make a good thing out of losses!) +were his whole means of subsistence; for James was now too old and +nervous to approach, and Soames too formidably adamant. It is not too +much to say that Dartie had been living on hope for months. He had never +been fond of money for itself, had always despised the Forsytes with +their investing habits, though careful to make such use of them as he +could. What he liked about money was what it bought--personal sensation. + +"No real sportsman cares for money," he would say, borrowing a 'pony' if +it was no use trying for a 'monkey.' There was something delicious about +Montague Dartie. He was, as George Forsyte said, a 'daisy.' + +The morning of the Handicap dawned clear and bright, the last day of +September, and Dartie who had travelled to Newmarket the night before, +arrayed himself in spotless checks and walked to an eminence to see his +half of the filly take her final canter: If she won he would be a cool +three thou. in pocket--a poor enough recompense for the sobriety and +patience of these weeks of hope, while they had been nursing her for this +race. But he had not been able to afford more. Should he 'lay it off' +at the eight to one to which she had advanced? This was his single +thought while the larks sang above him, and the grassy downs smelled +sweet, and the pretty filly passed, tossing her head and glowing like +satin. + +After all, if he lost it would not be he who paid, and to 'lay it off' +would reduce his winnings to some fifteen hundred--hardly enough to +purchase a dancer out and out. Even more potent was the itch in the +blood of all the Darties for a real flutter. And turning to George he +said: "She's a clipper. She'll win hands down; I shall go the whole +hog." George, who had laid off every penny, and a few besides, and stood +to win, however it came out, grinned down on him from his bulky height, +with the words: "So ho, my wild one!" for after a chequered +apprenticeship weathered with the money of a deeply complaining Roger, +his Forsyte blood was beginning to stand him in good stead in the +profession of owner. + +There are moments of disillusionment in the lives of men from which the +sensitive recorder shrinks. Suffice it to say that the good thing fell +down. Sleeve-links finished in the ruck. Dartie's shirt was lost. + +Between the passing of these things and the day when Soames turned his +face towards Green Street, what had not happened! + +When a man with the constitution of Montague Dartie has exercised +self-control for months from religious motives, and remains unrewarded, +he does not curse God and die, he curses God and lives, to the distress +of his family. + +Winifred--a plucky woman, if a little too fashionable--who had borne the +brunt of him for exactly twenty-one years, had never really believed that +he would do what he now did. Like so many wives, she thought she knew +the worst, but she had not yet known him in his forty-fifth year, when +he, like other men, felt that it was now or never. Paying on the 2nd of +October a visit of inspection to her jewel case, she was horrified to +observe that her woman's crown and glory was gone--the pearls which +Montague had given her in '86, when Benedict was born, and which James +had been compelled to pay for in the spring of '87, to save scandal. She +consulted her husband at once. He 'pooh-poohed' the matter. They would +turn up! Nor till she said sharply: "Very well, then, Monty, I shall go +down to Scotland Yard myself," did he consent to take the matter in hand. +Alas! that the steady and resolved continuity of design necessary to the +accomplishment of sweeping operations should be liable to interruption by +drink. That night Dartie returned home without a care in the world or a +particle of reticence. Under normal conditions Winifred would merely +have locked her door and let him sleep it off, but torturing suspense +about her pearls had caused her to wait up for him. Taking a small +revolver from his pocket and holding on to the dining table, he told her +at once that he did not care a cursh whether she lived s'long as she was +quiet; but he himself wash tired o' life. Winifred, holding onto the +other side of the dining table, answered: + +"Don't be a clown, Monty. Have you been to Scotland Yard?" + +Placing the revolver against his chest, Dartie had pulled the trigger +several times. It was not loaded. Dropping it with an imprecation, he +had muttered: "For shake o' the children," and sank into a chair. +Winifred, having picked up the revolver, gave him some soda water. The +liquor had a magical effect. Life had illused him; Winifred had never +'unshtood'm.' If he hadn't the right to take the pearls he had given her +himself, who had? That Spanish filly had got'm. If Winifred had any +'jection he w'd cut--her--throat. What was the matter with that? +(Probably the first use of that celebrated phrase--so obscure are the +origins of even the most classical language!) + +Winifred, who had learned self-containment in a hard school, looked up at +him, and said: "Spanish filly! Do you mean that girl we saw dancing in +the Pandemonium Ballet? Well, you are a thief and a blackguard." It had +been the last straw on a sorely loaded consciousness; reaching up from +his chair Dartie seized his wife's arm, and recalling the achievements of +his boyhood, twisted it. Winifred endured the agony with tears in her +eyes, but no murmur. Watching for a moment of weakness, she wrenched it +free; then placing the dining table between them, said between her teeth: +"You are the limit, Monty." (Undoubtedly the inception of that phrase +--so is English formed under the stress of circumstances.) Leaving Dartie +with foam on his dark moustache she went upstairs, and, after locking her +door and bathing her arm in hot water, lay awake all night, thinking of +her pearls adorning the neck of another, and of the consideration her +husband had presumably received therefor. + +The man of the world awoke with a sense of being lost to that world, and +a dim recollection of having been called a 'limit.' He sat for half an +hour in the dawn and the armchair where he had slept--perhaps the +unhappiest half-hour he had ever spent, for even to a Dartie there is +something tragic about an end. And he knew that he had reached it. +Never again would he sleep in his dining-room and wake with the light +filtering through those curtains bought by Winifred at Nickens and +Jarveys with the money of James. Never again eat a devilled kidney at +that rose-wood table, after a roll in the sheets and a hot bath. He took +his note case from his dress coat pocket. Four hundred pounds, in fives +and tens--the remainder of the proceeds of his half of Sleeve-links, sold +last night, cash down, to George Forsyte, who, having won over the race, +had not conceived the sudden dislike to the animal which he himself now +felt. The ballet was going to Buenos Aires the day after to-morrow, and +he was going too. Full value for the pearls had not yet been received; +he was only at the soup. + +He stole upstairs. Not daring to have a bath, or shave (besides, the +water would be cold), he changed his clothes and packed stealthily all he +could. It was hard to leave so many shining boots, but one must +sacrifice something. Then, carrying a valise in either hand, he stepped +out onto the landing. The house was very quiet--that house where he had +begotten his four children. It was a curious moment, this, outside the +room of his wife, once admired, if not perhaps loved, who had called him +'the limit.' He steeled himself with that phrase, and tiptoed on; but +the next door was harder to pass. It was the room his daughters slept +in. Maud was at school, but Imogen would be lying there; and moisture +came into Dartie's early morning eyes. She was the most like him of the +four, with her dark hair, and her luscious brown glance. Just coming +out, a pretty thing! He set down the two valises. This almost formal +abdication of fatherhood hurt him. The morning light fell on a face +which worked with real emotion. Nothing so false as penitence moved him; +but genuine paternal feeling, and that melancholy of 'never again.' He +moistened his lips; and complete irresolution for a moment paralysed his +legs in their check trousers. It was hard--hard to be thus compelled to +leave his home! "D---nit!" he muttered, "I never thought it would come +to this." Noises above warned him that the maids were beginning to get +up. And grasping the two valises, he tiptoed on downstairs. His cheeks +were wet, and the knowledge of that was comforting, as though it +guaranteed the genuineness of his sacrifice. He lingered a little in the +rooms below, to pack all the cigars he had, some papers, a crush hat, a +silver cigarette box, a Ruff's Guide. Then, mixing himself a stiff +whisky and soda, and lighting a cigarette, he stood hesitating before a +photograph of his two girls, in a silver frame. It belonged to Winifred. +'Never mind,' he thought; 'she can get another taken, and I can't!' He +slipped it into the valise. Then, putting on his hat and overcoat, he +took two others, his best malacca cane, an umbrella, and opened the front +door. Closing it softly behind him, he walked out, burdened as he had +never been in all his life, and made his way round the corner to wait +there for an early cab to come by. + +Thus had passed Montague Dartie in the forty-fifth year of his age from +the house which he had called his own. + +When Winifred came down, and realised that he was not in the house, her +first feeling was one of dull anger that he should thus elude the +reproaches she had carefully prepared in those long wakeful hours. He +had gone off to Newmarket or Brighton, with that woman as likely as not. +Disgusting! Forced to a complete reticence before Imogen and the +servants, and aware that her father's nerves would never stand the +disclosure, she had been unable to refrain from going to Timothy's that +afternoon, and pouring out the story of the pearls to Aunts Juley and +Hester in utter confidence. It was only on the following morning that +she noticed the disappearance of that photograph. What did it mean? +Careful examination of her husband's relics prompted the thought that he +had gone for good. As that conclusion hardened she stood quite still in +the middle of his dressing-room, with all the drawers pulled out, to try +and realise what she was feeling. By no means easy! Though he was 'the +limit' he was yet her property, and for the life of her she could not but +feel the poorer. To be widowed yet not widowed at forty-two; with four +children; made conspicuous, an object of commiseration! Gone to the arms +of a Spanish Jade! Memories, feelings, which she had thought quite dead, +revived within her, painful, sullen, tenacious. Mechanically she closed +drawer after drawer, went to her bed, lay on it, and buried her face in +the pillows. She did not cry. What was the use of that? When she got +off her bed to go down to lunch she felt as if only one thing could do +her good, and that was to have Val home. He--her eldest boy--who was to +go to Oxford next month at James' expense, was at Littlehampton taking +his final gallops with his trainer for Smalls, as he would have phrased +it following his father's diction. She caused a telegram to be sent to +him. + +"I must see about his clothes," she said to Imogen; "I can't have him +going up to Oxford all anyhow. Those boys are so particular." + +"Val's got heaps of things," Imogen answered. + +"I know; but they want overhauling. I hope he'll come." + +"He'll come like a shot, Mother. But he'll probably skew his Exam." + +"I can't help that," said Winifred. "I want him." + +With an innocent shrewd look at her mother's face, Imogen kept silence. +It was father, of course! Val did come 'like a shot' at six o'clock. + +Imagine a cross between a pickle and a Forsyte and you have young Publius +Valerius Dartie. A youth so named could hardly turn out otherwise. When +he was born, Winifred, in the heyday of spirits, and the craving for +distinction, had determined that her children should have names such as +no others had ever had. (It was a mercy--she felt now--that she had +just not named Imogen Thisbe.) But it was to George Forsyte, always a +wag, that Val's christening was due. It so happened that Dartie, dining +with him a week after the birth of his son and heir, had mentioned this +aspiration of Winifred's. + +"Call him Cato," said George, "it'll be damned piquant!" He had just won +a tenner on a horse of that name. + +"Cato!" Dartie had replied--they were a little 'on' as the phrase was +even in those days--"it's not a Christian name." + +"Halo you!" George called to a waiter in knee breeches. "Bring me the +Encyc'pedia Brit. from the Library, letter C." + +The waiter brought it. + +"Here you are!" said George, pointing with his cigar: "Cato Publius +Valerius by Virgil out of Lydia. That's what you want. Publius Valerius +is Christian enough." + +Dartie, on arriving home, had informed Winifred. She had been charmed. +It was so 'chic.' And Publius Valerius became the baby's name, though it +afterwards transpired that they had got hold of the inferior Cato. In +1890, however, when little Publius was nearly ten, the word 'chic' went +out of fashion, and sobriety came in; Winifred began to have doubts. +They were confirmed by little Publius himself who returned from his first +term at school complaining that life was a burden to him--they called him +Pubby. Winifred--a woman of real decision--promptly changed his school +and his name to Val, the Publius being dropped even as an initial. + +At nineteen he was a limber, freckled youth with a wide mouth, light +eyes, long dark lashes; a rather charming smile, considerable knowledge +of what he should not know, and no experience of what he ought to do. +Few boys had more narrowly escaped being expelled--the engaging rascal. +After kissing his mother and pinching Imogen, he ran upstairs three at a +time, and came down four, dressed for dinner. He was awfully sorry, but +his 'trainer,' who had come up too, had asked him to dine at the Oxford +and Cambridge; it wouldn't do to miss--the old chap would be hurt. +Winifred let him go with an unhappy pride. She had wanted him at home, +but it was very nice to know that his tutor was so fond of him. He went +out with a wink at Imogen, saying: "I say, Mother, could I have two +plover's eggs when I come in?--cook's got some. They top up so jolly +well. Oh! and look here--have you any money?--I had to borrow a fiver +from old Snobby." + +Winifred, looking at him with fond shrewdness, answered: + +"My dear, you are naughty about money. But you shouldn't pay him +to-night, anyway; you're his guest. How nice and slim he looked in his +white waistcoat, and his dark thick lashes!" + +"Oh, but we may go to the theatre, you see, Mother; and I think I ought +to stand the tickets; he's always hard up, you know." + +Winifred produced a five-pound note, saying: + +"Well, perhaps you'd better pay him, but you mustn't stand the tickets +too." + +Val pocketed the fiver. + +"If I do, I can't," he said. "Good-night, Mum!" + +He went out with his head up and his hat cocked joyously, sniffing the +air of Piccadilly like a young hound loosed into covert. Jolly good biz! +After that mouldy old slow hole down there! + +He found his 'tutor,' not indeed at the Oxford and Cambridge, but at the +Goat's Club. This 'tutor' was a year older than himself, a good-looking +youth, with fine brown eyes, and smooth dark hair, a small mouth, an oval +face, languid, immaculate, cool to a degree, one of those young men who +without effort establish moral ascendancy over their companions. He had +missed being expelled from school a year before Val, had spent that year +at Oxford, and Val could almost see a halo round his head. His name was +Crum, and no one could get through money quicker. It seemed to be his +only aim in life--dazzling to young Val, in whom, however, the Forsyte +would stand apart, now and then, wondering where the value for that money +was. + +They dined quietly, in style and taste; left the Club smoking cigars, +with just two bottles inside them, and dropped into stalls at the +Liberty. For Val the sound of comic songs, the sight of lovely legs were +fogged and interrupted by haunting fears that he would never equal Crum's +quiet dandyism. His idealism was roused; and when that is so, one is +never quite at ease. Surely he had too wide a mouth, not the best cut of +waistcoat, no braid on his trousers, and his lavender gloves had no thin +black stitchings down the back. Besides, he laughed too much--Crum never +laughed, he only smiled, with his regular dark brows raised a little so +that they formed a gable over his just drooped lids. No! he would never +be Crum's equal. All the same it was a jolly good show, and Cynthia Dark +simply ripping. Between the acts Crum regaled him with particulars of +Cynthia's private life, and the awful knowledge became Val's that, if he +liked, Crum could go behind. He simply longed to say: "I say, take me!" +but dared not, because of his deficiencies; and this made the last act or +two almost miserable. On coming out Crum said: "It's half an hour before +they close; let's go on to the Pandemonium." They took a hansom to +travel the hundred yards, and seats costing seven-and-six apiece because +they were going to stand, and walked into the Promenade. It was in these +little things, this utter negligence of money that Crum had such engaging +polish. The ballet was on its last legs and night, and the traffic of +the Promenade was suffering for the moment. Men and women were crowded +in three rows against the barrier. The whirl and dazzle on the stage, +the half dark, the mingled tobacco fumes and women's scent, all that +curious lure to promiscuity which belongs to Promenades, began to free +young Val from his idealism. He looked admiringly in a young woman's +face, saw she was not young, and quickly looked away. Shades of Cynthia +Dark! The young woman's arm touched his unconsciously; there was a scent +of musk and mignonette. Val looked round the corner of his lashes. +Perhaps she was young, after all. Her foot trod on his; she begged his +pardon. He said: + +"Not at all; jolly good ballet, isn't it?" + +"Oh, I'm tired of it; aren't you?" + +Young Val smiled--his wide, rather charming smile. Beyond that he did +not go--not yet convinced. The Forsyte in him stood out for greater +certainty. And on the stage the ballet whirled its kaleidoscope of +snow-white, salmon-pink, and emerald-green and violet and seemed suddenly +to freeze into a stilly spangled pyramid. Applause broke out, and it was +over! Maroon curtains had cut it off. The semi-circle of men and women +round the barrier broke up, the young woman's arm pressed his. A little +way off disturbance seemed centring round a man with a pink carnation; +Val stole another glance at the young woman, who was looking towards it. +Three men, unsteady, emerged, walking arm in arm. The one in the centre +wore the pink carnation, a white waistcoat, a dark moustache; he reeled a +little as he walked. Crum's voice said slow and level: "Look at that +bounder, he's screwed!" Val turned to look. The 'bounder' had +disengaged his arm, and was pointing straight at them. Crum's voice, +level as ever, said: + +"He seems to know you!" The 'bounder' spoke: + +"H'llo!" he said. "You f'llows, look! There's my young rascal of a +son!" + +Val saw. It was his father! He could have sunk into the crimson carpet. +It was not the meeting in this place, not even that his father was +'screwed'; it was Crum's word 'bounder,' which, as by heavenly +revelation, he perceived at that moment to be true. Yes, his father +looked a bounder with his dark good looks, and his pink carnation, and +his square, self-assertive walk. And without a word he ducked behind the +young woman and slipped out of the Promenade. He heard the word, "Val!" +behind him, and ran down deep-carpeted steps past the 'chuckersout,' into +the Square. + +To be ashamed of his own father is perhaps the bitterest experience a +young man can go through. It seemed to Val, hurrying away, that his +career had ended before it had begun. How could he go up to Oxford now +amongst all those chaps, those splendid friends of Crum's, who would know +that his father was a 'bounder'! And suddenly he hated Crum. Who the +devil was Crum, to say that? If Crum had been beside him at that moment, +he would certainly have been jostled off the pavement. His own +father--his own! A choke came up in his throat, and he dashed his hands +down deep into his overcoat pockets. Damn Crum! He conceived the wild +idea of running back and fending his father, taking him by the arm and +walking about with him in front of Crum; but gave it up at once and +pursued his way down Piccadilly. A young woman planted herself before +him. "Not so angry, darling!" He shied, dodged her, and suddenly became +quite cool. If Crum ever said a word, he would jolly well punch his +head, and there would be an end of it. He walked a hundred yards or +more, contented with that thought, then lost its comfort utterly. It +wasn't simple like that! He remembered how, at school, when some parent +came down who did not pass the standard, it just clung to the fellow +afterwards. It was one of those things nothing could remove. Why had +his mother married his father, if he was a 'bounder'? It was bitterly +unfair--jolly low-down on a fellow to give him a 'bounder' for father. +The worst of it was that now Crum had spoken the word, he realised that +he had long known subconsciously that his father was not 'the clean +potato.' It was the beastliest thing that had ever happened to +him--beastliest thing that had ever happened to any fellow! And, +down-hearted as he had never yet been, he came to Green Street, and let +himself in with a smuggled latch-key. In the dining-room his plover's +eggs were set invitingly, with some cut bread and butter, and a little +whisky at the bottom of a decanter--just enough, as Winifred had +thought, for him to feel himself a man. It made him sick to look at +them, and he went upstairs. + +Winifred heard him pass, and thought: 'The dear boy's in. Thank +goodness! If he takes after his father I don't know what I shall do! +But he won't he's like me. Dear Val!' + + + + +CHAPTER III + +SOAMES PREPARES TO TAKE STEPS + +When Soames entered his sister's little Louis Quinze drawing-room, with +its small balcony, always flowered with hanging geraniums in the summer, +and now with pots of Lilium Auratum, he was struck by the immutability of +human affairs. It looked just the same as on his first visit to the +newly married Darties twenty-one years ago. He had chosen the furniture +himself, and so completely that no subsequent purchase had ever been able +to change the room's atmosphere. Yes, he had founded his sister well, +and she had wanted it. Indeed, it said a great deal for Winifred that +after all this time with Dartie she remained well-founded. From the +first Soames had nosed out Dartie's nature from underneath the +plausibility, savoir faire, and good looks which had dazzled Winifred, +her mother, and even James, to the extent of permitting the fellow to +marry his daughter without bringing anything but shares of no value into +settlement. + +Winifred, whom he noticed next to the furniture, was sitting at her Buhl +bureau with a letter in her hand. She rose and came towards him. Tall +as himself, strong in the cheekbones, well tailored, something in her +face disturbed Soames. She crumpled the letter in her hand, but seemed +to change her mind and held it out to him. He was her lawyer as well as +her brother. + +Soames read, on Iseeum Club paper, these words: + +'You will not get chance to insult in my own again. I am leaving country +to-morrow. It's played out. I'm tired of being insulted by you. You've +brought on yourself. No self-respecting man can stand it. I shall not +ask you for anything again. Good-bye. I took the photograph of the two +girls. Give them my love. I don't care what your family say. It's all +their doing. I'm going to live new life. +'M.D.' + +This after-dinner note had a splotch on it not yet quite dry. He looked +at Winifred--the splotch had clearly come from her; and he checked the +words: 'Good riddance!' Then it occurred to him that with this letter +she was entering that very state which he himself so earnestly desired to +quit--the state of a Forsyte who was not divorced. + +Winifred had turned away, and was taking a long sniff from a little +gold-topped bottle. A dull commiseration, together with a vague sense of +injury, crept about Soames' heart. He had come to her to talk of his own +position, and get sympathy, and here was she in the same position, +wanting of course to talk of it, and get sympathy from him. It was +always like that! Nobody ever seemed to think that he had troubles and +interests of his own. He folded up the letter with the splotch inside, +and said: + +"What's it all about, now?" + +Winifred recited the story of the pearls calmly. + +"Do you think he's really gone, Soames? You see the state he was in when +he wrote that." + +Soames who, when he desired a thing, placated Providence by pretending +that he did not think it likely to happen, answered: + +"I shouldn't think so. I might find out at his Club." + +"If George is there," said Winifred, "he would know." + +"George?" said Soames; "I saw him at his father's funeral." + +"Then he's sure to be there." + +Soames, whose good sense applauded his sister's acumen, said grudgingly: +"Well, I'll go round. Have you said anything in Park Lane?" + +"I've told Emily," returned Winifred, who retained that 'chic' way of +describing her mother. "Father would have a fit." + +Indeed, anything untoward was now sedulously kept from James. With +another look round at the furniture, as if to gauge his sister's exact +position, Soames went out towards Piccadilly. The evening was drawing +in--a touch of chill in the October haze. He walked quickly, with his +close and concentrated air. He must get through, for he wished to dine +in Soho. On hearing from the hall porter at the Iseeum that Mr. Dartie +had not been in to-day, he looked at the trusty fellow and decided only +to ask if Mr. George Forsyte was in the Club. He was. Soames, who +always looked askance at his cousin George, as one inclined to jest at +his expense, followed the pageboy, slightly reassured by the thought that +George had just lost his father. He must have come in for about thirty +thousand, besides what he had under that settlement of Roger's, which had +avoided death duty. He found George in a bow-window, staring out across +a half-eaten plate of muffins. His tall, bulky, black-clothed figure +loomed almost threatening, though preserving still the supernatural +neatness of the racing man. With a faint grin on his fleshy face, he +said: + +"Hallo, Soames! Have a muffin?" + +"No, thanks," murmured Soames; and, nursing his hat, with the desire to +say something suitable and sympathetic, added: + +"How's your mother?" + +"Thanks," said George; "so-so. Haven't seen you for ages. You never go +racing. How's the City?" + +Soames, scenting the approach of a jest, closed up, and answered: + +"I wanted to ask you about Dartie. I hear he's...." + +"Flitted, made a bolt to Buenos Aires with the fair Lola. Good for +Winifred and the little Darties. He's a treat." + +Soames nodded. Naturally inimical as these cousins were, Dartie made +them kin. + +"Uncle James'll sleep in his bed now," resumed George; "I suppose he's +had a lot off you, too." + +Soames smiled. + +"Ah! You saw him further," said George amicably. "He's a real rouser. +Young Val will want a bit of looking after. I was always sorry for +Winifred. She's a plucky woman." + +Again Soames nodded. "I must be getting back to her," he said; "she just +wanted to know for certain. We may have to take steps. I suppose there's +no mistake?" + +"It's quite O.K.," said George--it was he who invented so many of those +quaint sayings which have been assigned to other sources. "He was drunk +as a lord last night; but he went off all right this morning. His ship's +the Tuscarora;" and, fishing out a card, he read mockingly: + +"'Mr. Montague Dartie, Poste Restante, Buenos Aires.' I should hurry up +with the steps, if I were you. He fairly fed me up last night." + +"Yes," said Soames; "but it's not always easy." Then, conscious from +George's eyes that he had roused reminiscence of his own affair, he got +up, and held out his hand. George rose too. + +"Remember me to Winifred.... You'll enter her for the Divorce Stakes +straight off if you ask me." + +Soames took a sidelong look back at him from the doorway. George had +seated himself again and was staring before him; he looked big and lonely +in those black clothes. Soames had never known him so subdued. 'I +suppose he feels it in a way,' he thought. 'They must have about fifty +thousand each, all told. They ought to keep the estate together. If +there's a war, house property will go down. Uncle Roger was a good judge, +though.' And the face of Annette rose before him in the darkening +street; her brown hair and her blue eyes with their dark lashes, her +fresh lips and cheeks, dewy and blooming in spite of London, her perfect +French figure. 'Take steps!' he thought. Re-entering Winifred's house +he encountered Val, and they went in together. An idea had occurred to +Soames. His cousin Jolyon was Irene's trustee, the first step would be to +go down and see him at Robin Hill. Robin Hill! The odd--the very odd +feeling those words brought back! Robin Hill--the house Bosinney had +built for him and Irene--the house they had never lived in--the fatal +house! And Jolyon lived there now! H'm! And suddenly he thought: 'They +say he's got a boy at Oxford! Why not take young Val down and introduce +them! It's an excuse! Less bald--very much less bald!' So, as they went +upstairs, he said to Val: + +"You've got a cousin at Oxford; you've never met him. I should like to +take you down with me to-morrow to where he lives and introduce you. +You'll find it useful." + +Val, receiving the idea with but moderate transports, Soames clinched it. + +"I'll call for you after lunch. It's in the country--not far; you'll +enjoy it." + +On the threshold of the drawing-room he recalled with an effort that the +steps he contemplated concerned Winifred at the moment, not himself. + +Winifred was still sitting at her Buhl bureau. + +"It's quite true," he said; "he's gone to Buenos Aires, started this +morning--we'd better have him shadowed when he lands. I'll cable at +once. Otherwise we may have a lot of expense. The sooner these things +are done the better. I'm always regretting that I didn't..." he stopped, +and looked sidelong at the silent Winifred. "By the way," he went on, +"can you prove cruelty?" + +Winifred said in a dull voice: + +"I don't know. What is cruelty?" + +"Well, has he struck you, or anything?" + +Winifred shook herself, and her jaw grew square. + +"He twisted my arm. Or would pointing a pistol count? Or being too +drunk to undress himself, or--No--I can't bring in the children." + +"No," said Soames; "no! I wonder! Of course, there's legal +separation--we can get that. But separation! Um!" + +"What does it mean?" asked Winifred desolately. + +"That he can't touch you, or you him; you're both of you married and +unmarried." And again he grunted. What was it, in fact, but his own +accursed position, legalised! No, he would not put her into that! + +"It must be divorce," he said decisively; "failing cruelty, there's +desertion. There's a way of shortening the two years, now. We get the +Court to give us restitution of conjugal rights. Then if he doesn't +obey, we can bring a suit for divorce in six months' time. Of course you +don't want him back. But they won't know that. Still, there's the risk +that he might come. I'd rather try cruelty." + +Winifred shook her head. "It's so beastly." + +"Well," Soames murmured, "perhaps there isn't much risk so long as he's +infatuated and got money. Don't say anything to anybody, and don't pay +any of his debts." + +Winifred sighed. In spite of all she had been through, the sense of loss +was heavy on her. And this idea of not paying his debts any more brought +it home to her as nothing else yet had. Some richness seemed to have +gone out of life. Without her husband, without her pearls, without that +intimate sense that she made a brave show above the domestic whirlpool, +she would now have to face the world. She felt bereaved indeed. + +And into the chilly kiss he placed on her forehead, Soames put more than +his usual warmth. + +"I have to go down to Robin Hill to-morrow," he said, "to see young +Jolyon on business. He's got a boy at Oxford. I'd like to take Val with +me and introduce him. Come down to 'The Shelter' for the week-end and +bring the children. Oh! by the way, no, that won't do; I've got some +other people coming." So saying, he left her and turned towards Soho. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +SOHO + +Of all quarters in the queer adventurous amalgam called London, Soho is +perhaps least suited to the Forsyte spirit. 'So-ho, my wild one!' +George would have said if he had seen his cousin going there. Untidy, +full of Greeks, Ishmaelites, cats, Italians, tomatoes, restaurants, +organs, coloured stuffs, queer names, people looking out of upper +windows, it dwells remote from the British Body Politic. Yet has it +haphazard proprietary instincts of its own, and a certain possessive +prosperity which keeps its rents up when those of other quarters go down. +For long years Soames' acquaintanceship with Soho had been confined to +its Western bastion, Wardour Street. Many bargains had he picked up +there. Even during those seven years at Brighton after Bosinney's death +and Irene's flight, he had bought treasures there sometimes, though he +had no place to put them; for when the conviction that his wife had gone +for good at last became firm within him, he had caused a board to be put +up in Montpellier Square: + + FOR SALE + THE LEASE OF THIS DESIRABLE RESIDENCE + + Enquire of Messrs. Lesson and Tukes, + Court Street, Belgravia. + +It had sold within a week--that desirable residence, in the shadow of +whose perfection a man and a woman had eaten their hearts out. + +Of a misty January evening, just before the board was taken down, Soames +had gone there once more, and stood against the Square railings, looking +at its unlighted windows, chewing the cud of possessive memories which +had turned so bitter in the mouth. Why had she never loved him? Why? +She had been given all she had wanted, and in return had given him, for +three long years, all he had wanted--except, indeed, her heart. He had +uttered a little involuntary groan, and a passing policeman had glanced +suspiciously at him who no longer possessed the right to enter that green +door with the carved brass knocker beneath the board 'For Sale!' A +choking sensation had attacked his throat, and he had hurried away into +the mist. That evening he had gone to Brighton to live.... + +Approaching Malta Street, Soho, and the Restaurant Bretagne, where +Annette would be drooping her pretty shoulders over her accounts, Soames +thought with wonder of those seven years at Brighton. How had he managed +to go on so long in that town devoid of the scent of sweetpeas, where he +had not even space to put his treasures? True, those had been years with +no time at all for looking at them--years of almost passionate +money-making, during which Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte had become +solicitors to more limited Companies than they could properly attend to. +Up to the City of a morning in a Pullman car, down from the City of an +evening in a Pullman car. Law papers again after dinner, then the sleep +of the tired, and up again next morning. Saturday to Monday was spent at +his Club in town--curious reversal of customary procedure, based on the +deep and careful instinct that while working so hard he needed sea air to +and from the station twice a day, and while resting must indulge his +domestic affections. The Sunday visit to his family in Park Lane, to +Timothy's, and to Green Street; the occasional visits elsewhere had +seemed to him as necessary to health as sea air on weekdays. Even since +his migration to Mapledurham he had maintained those habits until--he had +known Annette. + +Whether Annette had produced the revolution in his outlook, or that +outlook had produced Annette, he knew no more than we know where a circle +begins. It was intricate and deeply involved with the growing +consciousness that property without anyone to leave it to is the negation +of true Forsyteism. To have an heir, some continuance of self, who would +begin where he left off--ensure, in fact, that he would not leave +off--had quite obsessed him for the last year and more. After buying a +bit of Wedgwood one evening in April, he had dropped into Malta Street to +look at a house of his father's which had been turned into a +restaurant--a risky proceeding, and one not quite in accordance with the +terms of the lease. He had stared for a little at the outside painted a +good cream colour, with two peacock-blue tubs containing little bay-trees +in a recessed doorway--and at the words 'Restaurant Bretagne' above them +in gold letters, rather favourably impressed. Entering, he had noticed +that several people were already seated at little round green tables with +little pots of fresh flowers on them and Brittany-ware plates, and had +asked of a trim waitress to see the proprietor. They had shown him into +a back room, where a girl was sitting at a simple bureau covered with +papers, and a small round, table was laid for two. The impression of +cleanliness, order, and good taste was confirmed when the girl got up, +saying, "You wish to see Maman, Monsieur?" in a broken accent. + +"Yes," Soames had answered, "I represent your landlord; in fact, I'm his +son." + +"Won't you sit down, sir, please? Tell Maman to come to this gentleman." + +He was pleased that the girl seemed impressed, because it showed business +instinct; and suddenly he noticed that she was remarkably pretty--so +remarkably pretty that his eyes found a difficulty in leaving her face. +When she moved to put a chair for him, she swayed in a curious subtle +way, as if she had been put together by someone with a special secret +skill; and her face and neck, which was a little bared, looked as fresh +as if they had been sprayed with dew. Probably at this moment Soames +decided that the lease had not been violated; though to himself and his +father he based the decision on the efficiency of those illicit +adaptations in the building, on the signs of prosperity, and the obvious +business capacity of Madame Lamotte. He did not, however, neglect to +leave certain matters to future consideration, which had necessitated +further visits, so that the little back room had become quite accustomed +to his spare, not unsolid, but unobtrusive figure, and his pale, chinny +face with clipped moustache and dark hair not yet grizzling at the sides. + +"Un Monsieur tres distingue," Madame Lamotte found him; and presently, +"Tres amical, tres gentil," watching his eyes upon her daughter. + +She was one of those generously built, fine-faced, dark-haired +Frenchwomen, whose every action and tone of voice inspire perfect +confidence in the thoroughness of their domestic tastes, their knowledge +of cooking, and the careful increase of their bank balances. + +After those visits to the Restaurant Bretagne began, other visits +ceased--without, indeed, any definite decision, for Soames, like all +Forsytes, and the great majority of their countrymen, was a born +empiricist. But it was this change in his mode of life which had +gradually made him so definitely conscious that he desired to alter his +condition from that of the unmarried married man to that of the married +man remarried. + +Turning into Malta Street on this evening of early October, 1899, he +bought a paper to see if there were any after-development of the Dreyfus +case--a question which he had always found useful in making closer +acquaintanceship with Madame Lamotte and her daughter, who were Catholic +and anti-Dreyfusard. + +Scanning those columns, Soames found nothing French, but noticed a +general fall on the Stock Exchange and an ominous leader about the +Transvaal. He entered, thinking: 'War's a certainty. I shall sell my +consols.' Not that he had many, personally, the rate of interest was too +wretched; but he should advise his Companies--consols would assuredly go +down. A look, as he passed the doorways of the restaurant, assured him +that business was good as ever, and this, which in April would have +pleased him, now gave him a certain uneasiness. If the steps which he +had to take ended in his marrying Annette, he would rather see her mother +safely back in France, a move to which the prosperity of the Restaurant +Bretagne might become an obstacle. He would have to buy them out, of +course, for French people only came to England to make money; and it +would mean a higher price. And then that peculiar sweet sensation at the +back of his throat, and a slight thumping about the heart, which he +always experienced at the door of the little room, prevented his thinking +how much it would cost. + +Going in, he was conscious of an abundant black skirt vanishing through +the door into the restaurant, and of Annette with her hands up to her +hair. It was the attitude in which of all others he admired her--so +beautifully straight and rounded and supple. And he said: + +"I just came in to talk to your mother about pulling down that partition. +No, don't call her." + +"Monsieur will have supper with us? It will be ready in ten minutes." +Soames, who still held her hand, was overcome by an impulse which +surprised him. + +"You look so pretty to-night," he said, "so very pretty. Do you know how +pretty you look, Annette?" + +Annette withdrew her hand, and blushed. "Monsieur is very good." + +"Not a bit good," said Soames, and sat down gloomily. + +Annette made a little expressive gesture with her hands; a smile was +crinkling her red lips untouched by salve. + +And, looking at those lips, Soames said: + +"Are you happy over here, or do you want to go back to France?" + +"Oh, I like London. Paris, of course. But London is better than +Orleans, and the English country is so beautiful. I have been to +Richmond last Sunday." + +Soames went through a moment of calculating struggle. Mapledurham! Dared +he? After all, dared he go so far as that, and show her what there was +to look forward to! Still! Down there one could say things. In this +room it was impossible. + +"I want you and your mother," he said suddenly, "to come for the +afternoon next Sunday. My house is on the river, it's not too late in +this weather; and I can show you some good pictures. What do you say?" + +Annette clasped her hands. + +"It will be lovelee. The river is so beautiful" + +"That's understood, then. I'll ask Madame." + +He need say no more to her this evening, and risk giving himself away. +But had he not already said too much? Did one ask restaurant proprietors +with pretty daughters down to one's country house without design? Madame +Lamotte would see, if Annette didn't. Well! there was not much that +Madame did not see. Besides, this was the second time he had stayed to +supper with them; he owed them hospitality. + +Walking home towards Park Lane--for he was staying at his father's--with +the impression of Annette's soft clever hand within his own, his thoughts +were pleasant, slightly sensual, rather puzzled. Take steps! What +steps? How? Dirty linen washed in public? Pah! With his reputation for +sagacity, for far-sightedness and the clever extrication of others, he, +who stood for proprietary interests, to become the plaything of that Law +of which he was a pillar! There was something revolting in the thought! +Winifred's affair was bad enough! To have a double dose of publicity in +the family! Would not a liaison be better than that--a liaison, and a +son he could adopt? But dark, solid, watchful, Madame Lamotte blocked +the avenue of that vision. No! that would not work. It was not as if +Annette could have a real passion for him; one could not expect that at +his age. If her mother wished, if the worldly advantage were manifestly +great--perhaps! If not, refusal would be certain. Besides, he thought: +'I'm not a villain. I don't want to hurt her; and I don't want anything +underhand. But I do want her, and I want a son! There's nothing for it +but divorce--somehow--anyhow--divorce!' Under the shadow of the +plane-trees, in the lamplight, he passed slowly along the railings of the +Green Park. Mist clung there among the bluish tree shapes, beyond range +of the lamps. How many hundred times he had walked past those trees from +his father's house in Park Lane, when he was quite a young man; or from +his own house in Montpellier Square in those four years of married life! +And, to-night, making up his mind to free himself if he could of that +long useless marriage tie, he took a fancy to walk on, in at Hyde Park +Corner, out at Knightsbridge Gate, just as he used to when going home to +Irene in the old days. What could she be like now?--how had she passed +the years since he last saw her, twelve years in all, seven already since +Uncle Jolyon left her that money? Was she still beautiful? Would he +know her if he saw her? 'I've not changed much,' he thought; 'I expect +she has. She made me suffer.' He remembered suddenly one night, the +first on which he went out to dinner alone--an old Malburian dinner--the +first year of their marriage. With what eagerness he had hurried back; +and, entering softly as a cat, had heard her playing. Opening the +drawing-room door noiselessly, he had stood watching the expression on +her face, different from any he knew, so much more open, so confiding, as +though to her music she was giving a heart he had never seen. And he +remembered how she stopped and looked round, how her face changed back to +that which he did know, and what an icy shiver had gone through him, for +all that the next moment he was fondling her shoulders. Yes, she had +made him suffer! Divorce! It seemed ridiculous, after all these years of +utter separation! But it would have to be. No other way! 'The +question,' he thought with sudden realism, 'is--which of us? She or me? +She deserted me. She ought to pay for it. There'll be someone, I +suppose.' Involuntarily he uttered a little snarling sound, and, +turning, made his way back to Park Lane. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +JAMES SEES VISIONS + +The butler himself opened the door, and closing it softly, detained +Soames on the inner mat. + +"The master's poorly, sir," he murmured. "He wouldn't go to bed till you +came in. He's still in the diningroom." + +Soames responded in the hushed tone to which the house was now +accustomed. + +"What's the matter with him, Warmson?" + +"Nervous, sir, I think. Might be the funeral; might be Mrs. Dartie's +comin' round this afternoon. I think he overheard something. I've took +him in a negus. The mistress has just gone up." + +Soames hung his hat on a mahogany stag's-horn. + +"All right, Warmson, you can go to bed; I'll take him up myself." And he +passed into the dining-room. + +James was sitting before the fire, in a big armchair, with a camel-hair +shawl, very light and warm, over his frock-coated shoulders, on to which +his long white whiskers drooped. His white hair, still fairly thick, +glistened in the lamplight; a little moisture from his fixed, light-grey +eyes stained the cheeks, still quite well coloured, and the long deep +furrows running to the corners of the clean-shaven lips, which moved as +if mumbling thoughts. His long legs, thin as a crow's, in shepherd's +plaid trousers, were bent at less than a right angle, and on one knee a +spindly hand moved continually, with fingers wide apart and glistening +tapered nails. Beside him, on a low stool, stood a half-finished glass +of negus, bedewed with beads of heat. There he had been sitting, with +intervals for meals, all day. At eighty-eight he was still organically +sound, but suffering terribly from the thought that no one ever told him +anything. It is, indeed, doubtful how he had become aware that Roger was +being buried that day, for Emily had kept it from him. She was always +keeping things from him. Emily was only seventy! James had a grudge +against his wife's youth. He felt sometimes that he would never have +married her if he had known that she would have so many years before her, +when he had so few. It was not natural. She would live fifteen or +twenty years after he was gone, and might spend a lot of money; she had +always had extravagant tastes. For all he knew she might want to buy one +of these motor-cars. Cicely and Rachel and Imogen and all the young +people--they all rode those bicycles now and went off Goodness knew +where. And now Roger was gone. He didn't know--couldn't tell! The +family was breaking up. Soames would know how much his uncle had left. +Curiously he thought of Roger as Soames' uncle not as his own brother. +Soames! It was more and more the one solid spot in a vanishing world. +Soames was careful; he was a warm man; but he had no one to leave his +money to. There it was! He didn't know! And there was that fellow +Chamberlain! For James' political principles had been fixed between '70 +and '85 when 'that rascally Radical' had been the chief thorn in the side +of property and he distrusted him to this day in spite of his conversion; +he would get the country into a mess and make money go down before he had +done with it. A stormy petrel of a chap! Where was Soames? He had gone +to the funeral of course which they had tried to keep from him. He knew +that perfectly well; he had seen his son's trousers. Roger! Roger in his +coffin! He remembered how, when they came up from school together from +the West, on the box seat of the old Slowflyer in 1824, Roger had got +into the 'boot' and gone to sleep. James uttered a thin cackle. A funny +fellow--Roger--an original! He didn't know! Younger than himself, and +in his coffin! The family was breaking up. There was Val going to the +university; he never came to see him now. He would cost a pretty penny +up there. It was an extravagant age. And all the pretty pennies that +his four grandchildren would cost him danced before James' eyes. He did +not grudge them the money, but he grudged terribly the risk which the +spending of that money might bring on them; he grudged the diminution of +security. And now that Cicely had married, she might be having children +too. He didn't know--couldn't tell! Nobody thought of anything but +spending money in these days, and racing about, and having what they +called 'a good time.' A motor-car went past the window. Ugly great +lumbering thing, making all that racket! But there it was, the country +rattling to the dogs! People in such a hurry that they couldn't even +care for style--a neat turnout like his barouche and bays was worth all +those new-fangled things. And consols at 116! There must be a lot of +money in the country. And now there was this old Kruger! They had tried +to keep old Kruger from him. But he knew better; there would be a pretty +kettle of fish out there! He had known how it would be when that fellow +Gladstone--dead now, thank God! made such a mess of it after that +dreadful business at Majuba. He shouldn't wonder if the Empire split up +and went to pot. And this vision of the Empire going to pot filled a +full quarter of an hour with qualms of the most serious character. He +had eaten a poor lunch because of them. But it was after lunch that the +real disaster to his nerves occurred. He had been dozing when he became +aware of voices--low voices. Ah! they never told him anything! +Winifred's and her mother's. "Monty!" That fellow Dartie--always that +fellow Dartie! The voices had receded; and James had been left alone, +with his ears standing up like a hare's, and fear creeping about his +inwards. Why did they leave him alone? Why didn't they come and tell +him? And an awful thought, which through long years had haunted +him, concreted again swiftly in his brain. Dartie had gone +bankrupt--fraudulently bankrupt, and to save Winifred and the children, +he--James--would have to pay! Could he--could Soames turn him into a +limited company? No, he couldn't! There it was! With every minute +before Emily came back the spectre fiercened. Why, it might be forgery! +With eyes fixed on the doubted Turner in the centre of the wall, James +suffered tortures. He saw Dartie in the dock, his grandchildren in the +gutter, and himself in bed. He saw the doubted Turner being sold at +Jobson's, and all the majestic edifice of property in rags. He saw in +fancy Winifred unfashionably dressed, and heard in fancy Emily's voice +saying: "Now, don't fuss, James!" She was always saying: "Don't fuss!" +She had no nerves; he ought never to have married a woman eighteen years +younger than himself. Then Emily's real voice said: + +"Have you had a nice nap, James?" + +Nap! He was in torment, and she asked him that! + +"What's this about Dartie?" he said, and his eyes glared at her. + +Emily's self-possession never deserted her. + +"What have you been hearing?" she asked blandly. + +"What's this about Dartie?" repeated James. "He's gone bankrupt." + +"Fiddle!" + +James made a great effort, and rose to the full height of his stork-like +figure. + +"You never tell me anything," he said; "he's gone bankrupt." + +The destruction of that fixed idea seemed to Emily all that mattered at +the moment. + +"He has not," she answered firmly. "He's gone to Buenos Aires." + +If she had said "He's gone to Mars" she could not have dealt James a more +stunning blow; his imagination, invested entirely in British securities, +could as little grasp one place as the other. + +"What's he gone there for?" he said. "He's got no money. What did he +take?" + +Agitated within by Winifred's news, and goaded by the constant +reiteration of this jeremiad, Emily said calmly: + +"He took Winifred's pearls and a dancer." + +"What!" said James, and sat down. + +His sudden collapse alarmed her, and smoothing his forehead, she said: + +"Now, don't fuss, James!" + +A dusky red had spread over James' cheeks and forehead. + +"I paid for them," he said tremblingly; "he's a thief! I--I knew how it +would be. He'll be the death of me; he ...." Words failed him and he +sat quite still. Emily, who thought she knew him so well, was alarmed, +and went towards the sideboard where she kept some sal volatile. She +could not see the tenacious Forsyte spirit working in that thin, +tremulous shape against the extravagance of the emotion called up by this +outrage on Forsyte principles--the Forsyte spirit deep in there, saying: +'You mustn't get into a fantod, it'll never do. You won't digest your +lunch. You'll have a fit!' All unseen by her, it was doing better work +in James than sal volatile. + +"Drink this," she said. + +James waved it aside. + +"What was Winifred about," he said, "to let him take her pearls?" Emily +perceived the crisis past. + +"She can have mine," she said comfortably. "I never wear them. She'd +better get a divorce." + +"There you go!" said James. "Divorce! We've never had a divorce in the +family. Where's Soames?" + +"He'll be in directly." + +"No, he won't," said James, almost fiercely; "he's at the funeral. You +think I know nothing." + +"Well," said Emily with calm, "you shouldn't get into such fusses when we +tell you things." And plumping up his cushions, and putting the sal +volatile beside him, she left the room. + +But James sat there seeing visions--of Winifred in the Divorce Court, and +the family name in the papers; of the earth falling on Roger's coffin; of +Val taking after his father; of the pearls he had paid for and would +never see again; of money back at four per cent., and the country going +to the dogs; and, as the afternoon wore into evening, and tea-time +passed, and dinnertime, those visions became more and more mixed and +menacing--of being told nothing, till he had nothing left of all his +wealth, and they told him nothing of it. Where was Soames? Why didn't +he come in?... His hand grasped the glass of negus, he raised it to +drink, and saw his son standing there looking at him. A little sigh of +relief escaped his lips, and putting the glass down, he said: + +"There you are! Dartie's gone to Buenos Aires." + +Soames nodded. "That's all right," he said; "good riddance." + +A wave of assuagement passed over James' brain. Soames knew. Soames was +the only one of them all who had sense. Why couldn't he come and live at +home? He had no son of his own. And he said plaintively: + +"At my age I get nervous. I wish you were more at home, my boy." + +Again Soames nodded; the mask of his countenance betrayed no +understanding, but he went closer, and as if by accident touched his +father's shoulder. + +"They sent their love to you at Timothy's," he said. "It went off all +right. I've been to see Winifred. I'm going to take steps." And he +thought: 'Yes, and you mustn't hear of them.' + +James looked up; his long white whiskers quivered, his thin throat +between the points of his collar looked very gristly and naked. + +"I've been very poorly all day," he said; "they never tell me anything." + +Soames' heart twitched. + +"Well, it's all right. There's nothing to worry about. Will you come up +now?" and he put his hand under his father's arm. + +James obediently and tremulously raised himself, and together they went +slowly across the room, which had a rich look in the firelight, and out +to the stairs. Very slowly they ascended. + +"Good-night, my boy," said James at his bedroom door. + +"Good-night, father," answered Soames. His hand stroked down the sleeve +beneath the shawl; it seemed to have almost nothing in it, so thin was +the arm. And, turning away from the light in the opening doorway, he +went up the extra flight to his own bedroom. + +'I want a son,' he thought, sitting on the edge of his bed; 'I want a +son.' + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +NO-LONGER-YOUNG JOLYON AT HOME + +Trees take little account of time, and the old oak on the upper lawn at +Robin Hill looked no day older than when Bosinney sprawled under it and +said to Soames: "Forsyte, I've found the very place for your house." +Since then Swithin had dreamed, and old Jolyon died, beneath its +branches. And now, close to the swing, no-longer-young Jolyon often +painted there. Of all spots in the world it was perhaps the most sacred +to him, for he had loved his father. + +Contemplating its great girth--crinkled and a little mossed, but not yet +hollow--he would speculate on the passage of time. That tree had seen, +perhaps, all real English history; it dated, he shouldn't wonder, from +the days of Elizabeth at least. His own fifty years were as nothing to +its wood. When the house behind it, which he now owned, was three +hundred years of age instead of twelve, that tree might still be standing +there, vast and hollow--for who would commit such sacrilege as to cut it +down? A Forsyte might perhaps still be living in that house, to guard it +jealously. And Jolyon would wonder what the house would look like coated +with such age. Wistaria was already about its walls--the new look had +gone. Would it hold its own and keep the dignity Bosinney had bestowed +on it, or would the giant London have lapped it round and made it into an +asylum in the midst of a jerry-built wilderness? Often, within and +without of it, he was persuaded that Bosinney had been moved by the +spirit when he built. He had put his heart into that house, indeed! It +might even become one of the 'homes of England'--a rare achievement for a +house in these degenerate days of building. And the aesthetic spirit, +moving hand in hand with his Forsyte sense of possessive continuity, +dwelt with pride and pleasure on his ownership thereof. There was the +smack of reverence and ancestor-worship (if only for one ancestor) in his +desire to hand this house down to his son and his son's son. His father +had loved the house, had loved the view, the grounds, that tree; his last +years had been happy there, and no one had lived there before him. These +last eleven years at Robin Hill had formed in Jolyon's life as a painter, +the important period of success. He was now in the very van of +water-colour art, hanging on the line everywhere. His drawings fetched +high prices. Specialising in that one medium with the tenacity of his +breed, he had 'arrived'--rather late, but not too late for a member of +the family which made a point of living for ever. His art had really +deepened and improved. In conformity with his position he had grown a +short fair beard, which was just beginning to grizzle, and hid his +Forsyte chin; his brown face had lost the warped expression of his +ostracised period--he looked, if anything, younger. The loss of his wife +in 1894 had been one of those domestic tragedies which turn out in the +end for the good of all. He had, indeed, loved her to the last, for his +was an affectionate spirit, but she had become increasingly difficult: +jealous of her step-daughter June, jealous even of her own little +daughter Holly, and making ceaseless plaint that he could not love her, +ill as she was, and 'useless to everyone, and better dead.' He had +mourned her sincerely, but his face had looked younger since she died. +If she could only have believed that she made him happy, how much happier +would the twenty years of their companionship have been! + +June had never really got on well with her who had reprehensibly taken +her own mother's place; and ever since old Jolyon died she had been +established in a sort of studio in London. But she had come back to +Robin Hill on her stepmother's death, and gathered the reins there into +her small decided hands. Jolly was then at Harrow; Holly still learning +from Mademoiselle Beauce. There had been nothing to keep Jolyon at home, +and he had removed his grief and his paint-box abroad. There he had +wandered, for the most part in Brittany, and at last had fetched up in +Paris. He had stayed there several months, and come back with the +younger face and the short fair beard. Essentially a man who merely +lodged in any house, it had suited him perfectly that June should reign +at Robin Hill, so that he was free to go off with his easel where and +when he liked. She was inclined, it is true, to regard the house rather +as an asylum for her proteges! but his own outcast days had filled Jolyon +for ever with sympathy towards an outcast, and June's 'lame ducks' about +the place did not annoy him. By all means let her have them down--and +feed them up; and though his slightly cynical humour perceived that they +ministered to his daughter's love of domination as well as moved her warm +heart, he never ceased to admire her for having so many ducks. He fell, +indeed, year by year into a more and more detached and brotherly attitude +towards his own son and daughters, treating them with a sort of whimsical +equality. When he went down to Harrow to see Jolly, he never quite knew +which of them was the elder, and would sit eating cherries with him out +of one paper bag, with an affectionate and ironical smile twisting up an +eyebrow and curling his lips a little. And he was always careful to have +money in his pocket, and to be modish in his dress, so that his son need +not blush for him. They were perfect friends, but never seemed to have +occasion for verbal confidences, both having the competitive +self-consciousness of Forsytes. They knew they would stand by each other +in scrapes, but there was no need to talk about it. Jolyon had a +striking horror--partly original sin, but partly the result of his early +immorality--of the moral attitude. The most he could ever have said to +his son would have been: + +"Look here, old man; don't forget you're a gentleman," and then have +wondered whimsically whether that was not a snobbish sentiment. The +great cricket match was perhaps the most searching and awkward time they +annually went through together, for Jolyon had been at Eton. They would +be particularly careful during that match, continually saying: "Hooray! +Oh! hard luck, old man!" or "Hooray! Oh! bad luck, Dad!" to each other, +when some disaster at which their hearts bounded happened to the opposing +school. And Jolyon would wear a grey top hat, instead of his usual soft +one, to save his son's feelings, for a black top hat he could not +stomach. When Jolly went up to Oxford, Jolyon went up with him, amused, +humble, and a little anxious not to discredit his boy amongst all these +youths who seemed so much more assured and old than himself. He often +thought, 'Glad I'm a painter' for he had long dropped under-writing at +Lloyds--'it's so innocuous. You can't look down on a painter--you can't +take him seriously enough.' For Jolly, who had a sort of natural +lordliness, had passed at once into a very small set, who secretly amused +his father. The boy had fair hair which curled a little, and his +grandfather's deepset iron-grey eyes. He was well-built and very +upright, and always pleased Jolyon's aesthetic sense, so that he was a +tiny bit afraid of him, as artists ever are of those of their own sex +whom they admire physically. On that occasion, however, he actually did +screw up his courage to give his son advice, and this was it: + +"Look here, old man, you're bound to get into debt; mind you come to me +at once. Of course, I'll always pay them. But you might remember that +one respects oneself more afterwards if one pays one's own way. And +don't ever borrow, except from me, will you?" + +And Jolly had said: + +"All right, Dad, I won't," and he never had. + +"And there's just one other thing. I don't know much about morality and +that, but there is this: It's always worth while before you do anything +to consider whether it's going to hurt another person more than is +absolutely necessary." + +Jolly had looked thoughtful, and nodded, and presently had squeezed his +father's hand. And Jolyon had thought: 'I wonder if I had the right to +say that?' He always had a sort of dread of losing the dumb confidence +they had in each other; remembering how for long years he had lost his +own father's, so that there had been nothing between them but love at a +great distance. He under-estimated, no doubt, the change in the spirit +of the age since he himself went up to Cambridge in '65; and perhaps he +underestimated, too, his boy's power of understanding that he was +tolerant to the very bone. It was that tolerance of his, and possibly +his scepticism, which ever made his relations towards June so queerly +defensive. She was such a decided mortal; knew her own mind so terribly +well; wanted things so inexorably until she got them--and then, indeed, +often dropped them like a hot potato. Her mother had been like that, +whence had come all those tears. Not that his incompatibility with his +daughter was anything like what it had been with the first Mrs. Young +Jolyon. One could be amused where a daughter was concerned; in a wife's +case one could not be amused. To see June set her heart and jaw on a +thing until she got it was all right, because it was never anything which +interfered fundamentally with Jolyon's liberty--the one thing on which +his jaw was also absolutely rigid, a considerable jaw, under that short +grizzling beard. Nor was there ever any necessity for real +heart-to-heart encounters. One could break away into irony--as indeed he +often had to. But the real trouble with June was that she had never +appealed to his aesthetic sense, though she might well have, with her +red-gold hair and her viking-coloured eyes, and that touch of the +Berserker in her spirit. It was very different with Holly, soft and +quiet, shy and affectionate, with a playful imp in her somewhere. He +watched this younger daughter of his through the duckling stage with +extraordinary interest. Would she come out a swan? With her sallow oval +face and her grey wistful eyes and those long dark lashes, she might, or +she might not. Only this last year had he been able to guess. Yes, she +would be a swan--rather a dark one, always a shy one, but an authentic +swan. She was eighteen now, and Mademoiselle Beauce was gone--the +excellent lady had removed, after eleven years haunted by her continuous +reminiscences of the 'well-brrred little Tayleurs,' to another family +whose bosom would now be agitated by her reminiscences of the +'well-brrred little Forsytes.' She had taught Holly to speak French like +herself. + +Portraiture was not Jolyon's forte, but he had already drawn his younger +daughter three times, and was drawing her a fourth, on the afternoon of +October 4th, 1899, when a card was brought to him which caused his +eyebrows to go up: + + Mr. SOAMES FORSYTE + +THE SHELTER, CONNOISSEURS CLUB, MAPLEDURHAM. ST. +JAMES'S. + +But here the Forsyte Saga must digress again.... + +To return from a long travel in Spain to a darkened house, to a little +daughter bewildered with tears, to the sight of a loved father lying +peaceful in his last sleep, had never been, was never likely to be, +forgotten by so impressionable and warm-hearted a man as Jolyon. A sense +as of mystery, too, clung to that sad day, and about the end of one whose +life had been so well-ordered, balanced, and above-board. It seemed +incredible that his father could thus have vanished without, as it were, +announcing his intention, without last words to his son, and due +farewells. And those incoherent allusions of little Holly to 'the lady +in grey,' of Mademoiselle Beauce to a Madame Errant (as it sounded) +involved all things in a mist, lifted a little when he read his father's +will and the codicil thereto. It had been his duty as executor of that +will and codicil to inform Irene, wife of his cousin Soames, of her life +interest in fifteen thousand pounds. He had called on her to explain +that the existing investment in India Stock, ear-marked to meet the +charge, would produce for her the interesting net sum of L430 odd a year, +clear of income tax. This was but the third time he had seen his cousin +Soames' wife--if indeed she was still his wife, of which he was not quite +sure. He remembered having seen her sitting in the Botanical Gardens +waiting for Bosinney--a passive, fascinating figure, reminding him of +Titian's 'Heavenly Love,' and again, when, charged by his father, he had +gone to Montpellier Square on the afternoon when Bosinney's death was +known. He still recalled vividly her sudden appearance in the +drawing-room doorway on that occasion--her beautiful face, passing from +wild eagerness of hope to stony despair; remembered the compassion he had +felt, Soames' snarling smile, his words, "We are not at home!" and the +slam of the front door. + +This third time he saw a face and form more beautiful--freed from that +warp of wild hope and despair. Looking at her, he thought: 'Yes, you are +just what the Dad would have admired!' And the strange story of his +father's Indian summer became slowly clear to him. She spoke of old +Jolyon with reverence and tears in her eyes. "He was so wonderfully kind +to me; I don't know why. He looked so beautiful and peaceful sitting in +that chair under the tree; it was I who first came on him sitting there, +you know. Such a lovely day. I don't think an end could have been +happier. We should all like to go out like that." + +'Quite right!' he had thought. 'We should all a like to go out in full +summer with beauty stepping towards us across a lawn.' And looking round +the little, almost empty drawing-room, he had asked her what she was +going to do now. "I am going to live again a little, Cousin Jolyon. It's +wonderful to have money of one's own. I've never had any. I shall keep +this flat, I think; I'm used to it; but I shall be able to go to Italy." + +"Exactly!" Jolyon had murmured, looking at her faintly smiling lips; and +he had gone away thinking: 'A fascinating woman! What a waste! I'm glad +the Dad left her that money.' He had not seen her again, but every +quarter he had signed her cheque, forwarding it to her bank, with a note +to the Chelsea flat to say that he had done so; and always he had +received a note in acknowledgment, generally from the flat, but sometimes +from Italy; so that her personality had become embodied in slightly +scented grey paper, an upright fine handwriting, and the words, 'Dear +Cousin Jolyon.' Man of property that he now was, the slender cheque he +signed often gave rise to the thought: 'Well, I suppose she just +manages'; sliding into a vague wonder how she was faring otherwise in a +world of men not wont to let beauty go unpossessed. At first Holly had +spoken of her sometimes, but 'ladies in grey' soon fade from children's +memories; and the tightening of June's lips in those first weeks after +her grandfather's death whenever her former friend's name was mentioned, +had discouraged allusion. Only once, indeed, had June spoken definitely: +"I've forgiven her. I'm frightfully glad she's independent now...." + +On receiving Soames' card, Jolyon said to the maid--for he could not +abide butlers--"Show him into the study, please, and say I'll be there in +a minute"; and then he looked at Holly and asked: + +"Do you remember 'the lady in grey,' who used to give you music-lessons?" + +"Oh yes, why? Has she come?" + +Jolyon shook his head, and, changing his holland blouse for a coat, was +silent, perceiving suddenly that such history was not for those young +ears. His face, in fact, became whimsical perplexity incarnate while he +journeyed towards the study. + +Standing by the french-window, looking out across the terrace at the oak +tree, were two figures, middle-aged and young, and he thought: 'Who's +that boy? Surely they never had a child.' + +The elder figure turned. The meeting of those two Forsytes of the second +generation, so much more sophisticated than the first, in the house built +for the one and owned and occupied by the other, was marked by subtle +defensiveness beneath distinct attempt at cordiality. 'Has he come about +his wife?' Jolyon was thinking; and Soames, 'How shall I begin?' while +Val, brought to break the ice, stood negligently scrutinising this +'bearded pard' from under his dark, thick eyelashes. + +"This is Val Dartie," said Soames, "my sister's son. He's just going up +to Oxford. I thought I'd like him to know your boy." + +"Ah! I'm sorry Jolly's away. What college?" + +"B.N.C.," replied Val. + +"Jolly's at the 'House,' but he'll be delighted to look you up." + +"Thanks awfully." + +"Holly's in--if you could put up with a female relation, she'd show you +round. You'll find her in the hall if you go through the curtains. I +was just painting her." + +With another "Thanks, awfully!" Val vanished, leaving the two cousins +with the ice unbroken. + +"I see you've some drawings at the 'Water Colours,'" said Soames. + +Jolyon winced. He had been out of touch with the Forsyte family at large +for twenty-six years, but they were connected in his mind with Frith's +'Derby Day' and Landseer prints. He had heard from June that Soames was +a connoisseur, which made it worse. He had become aware, too, of a +curious sensation of repugnance. + +"I haven't seen you for a long time," he said. + +"No," answered Soames between close lips, "not since--as a matter of +fact, it's about that I've come. You're her trustee, I'm told." + +Jolyon nodded. + +"Twelve years is a long time," said Soames rapidly: "I--I'm tired of it." + +Jolyon found no more appropriate answer than: + +"Won't you smoke?" + +"No, thanks." + +Jolyon himself lit a cigarette. + +"I wish to be free," said Soames abruptly. + +"I don't see her," murmured Jolyon through the fume of his cigarette. + +"But you know where she lives, I suppose?" + +Jolyon nodded. He did not mean to give her address without permission. +Soames seemed to divine his thought. + +"I don't want her address," he said; "I know it." + +"What exactly do you want?" + +"She deserted me. I want a divorce." + +"Rather late in the day, isn't it?" + +"Yes," said Soames. And there was a silence. + +"I don't know much about these things--at least, I've forgotten," said +Jolyon with a wry smile. He himself had had to wait for death to grant +him a divorce from the first Mrs. Jolyon. "Do you wish me to see her +about it?" + +Soames raised his eyes to his cousin's face. "I suppose there's +someone," he said. + +A shrug moved Jolyon's shoulders. + +"I don't know at all. I imagine you may have both lived as if the other +were dead. It's usual in these cases." + +Soames turned to the window. A few early fallen oak-leaves strewed the +terrace already, and were rolling round in the wind. Jolyon saw the +figures of Holly and Val Dartie moving across the lawn towards the +stables. 'I'm not going to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds,' +he thought. 'I must act for her. The Dad would have wished that.' And +for a swift moment he seemed to see his father's figure in the old +armchair, just beyond Soames, sitting with knees crossed, The Times in +his hand. It vanished. + +"My father was fond of her," he said quietly. + +"Why he should have been I don't know," Soames answered without looking +round. "She brought trouble to your daughter June; she brought trouble +to everyone. I gave her all she wanted. I would have given her +even--forgiveness--but she chose to leave me." + +In Jolyon compassion was checked by the tone of that close voice. What +was there in the fellow that made it so difficult to be sorry for him? + +"I can go and see her, if you like," he said. "I suppose she might be +glad of a divorce, but I know nothing." + +Soames nodded. + +"Yes, please go. As I say, I know her address; but I've no wish to see +her." His tongue was busy with his lips, as if they were very dry. + +"You'll have some tea?" said Jolyon, stifling the words: 'And see the +house.' And he led the way into the hall. When he had rung the bell and +ordered tea, he went to his easel to turn his drawing to the wall. He +could not bear, somehow, that his work should be seen by Soames, who was +standing there in the middle of the great room which had been designed +expressly to afford wall space for his own pictures. In his cousin's +face, with its unseizable family likeness to himself, and its chinny, +narrow, concentrated look, Jolyon saw that which moved him to the +thought: 'That chap could never forget anything--nor ever give himself +away. He's pathetic!' + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE COLT AND THE FILLY + +When young Val left the presence of the last generation he was thinking: +'This is jolly dull! Uncle Soames does take the bun. I wonder what this +filly's like?' He anticipated no pleasure from her society; and suddenly +he saw her standing there looking at him. Why, she was pretty! What +luck! + +"I'm afraid you don't know me," he said. "My name's Val Dartie--I'm +once removed, second cousin, something like that, you know. My mother's +name was Forsyte." + +Holly, whose slim brown hand remained in his because she was too shy to +withdraw it, said: + +"I don't know any of my relations. Are there many?" + +"Tons. They're awful--most of them. At least, I don't know--some of +them. One's relations always are, aren't they?" + +"I expect they think one awful too," said Holly. + +"I don't know why they should. No one could think you awful, of course." + +Holly looked at him--the wistful candour in those grey eyes gave young +Val a sudden feeling that he must protect her. + +"I mean there are people and people," he added astutely. "Your dad looks +awfully decent, for instance." + +"Oh yes!" said Holly fervently; "he is." + +A flush mounted in Val's cheeks--that scene in the Pandemonium +promenade--the dark man with the pink carnation developing into his own +father! "But you know what the Forsytes are," he said almost viciously. +"Oh! I forgot; you don't." + +"What are they?" + +"Oh! fearfully careful; not sportsmen a bit. Look at Uncle Soames!" + +"I'd like to," said Holly. + +Val resisted a desire to run his arm through hers. "Oh! no," he said, +"let's go out. You'll see him quite soon enough. What's your brother +like?" + +Holly led the way on to the terrace and down to the lawn without +answering. How describe Jolly, who, ever since she remembered anything, +had been her lord, master, and ideal? + +"Does he sit on you?" said Val shrewdly. "I shall be knowing him at +Oxford. Have you got any horses?" + +Holly nodded. "Would you like to see the stables?" + +"Rather!" + +They passed under the oak tree, through a thin shrubbery, into the +stable-yard. There under a clock-tower lay a fluffy brown-and-white dog, +so old that he did not get up, but faintly waved the tail curled over his +back. + +"That's Balthasar," said Holly; "he's so old--awfully old, nearly as old +as I am. Poor old boy! He's devoted to Dad." + +"Balthasar! That's a rum name. He isn't purebred you know." + +"No! but he's a darling," and she bent down to stroke the dog. Gentle and +supple, with dark covered head and slim browned neck and hands, she +seemed to Val strange and sweet, like a thing slipped between him and all +previous knowledge. + +"When grandfather died," she said, "he wouldn't eat for two days. He saw +him die, you know." + +"Was that old Uncle Jolyon? Mother always says he was a topper." + +"He was," said Holly simply, and opened the stable door. + +In a loose-box stood a silver roan of about fifteen hands, with a long +black tail and mane. "This is mine--Fairy." + +"Ah!" said Val, "she's a jolly palfrey. But you ought to bang her tail. +She'd look much smarter." Then catching her wondering look, he thought +suddenly: 'I don't know--anything she likes!' And he took a long sniff +of the stable air. "Horses are ripping, aren't they? My Dad..." he +stopped. + +"Yes?" said Holly. + +An impulse to unbosom himself almost overcame him--but not quite. "Oh! I +don't know he's often gone a mucker over them. I'm jolly keen on them +too--riding and hunting. I like racing awfully, as well; I should like +to be a gentleman rider." And oblivious of the fact that he had but one +more day in town, with two engagements, he plumped out: + +"I say, if I hire a gee to-morrow, will you come a ride in Richmond +Park?" + +Holly clasped her hands. + +"Oh yes! I simply love riding. But there's Jolly's horse; why don't you +ride him? Here he is. We could go after tea." + +Val looked doubtfully at his trousered legs. + +He had imagined them immaculate before her eyes in high brown boots and +Bedford cords. + +"I don't much like riding his horse," he said. "He mightn't like it. +Besides, Uncle Soames wants to get back, I expect. Not that I believe in +buckling under to him, you know. You haven't got an uncle, have you? +This is rather a good beast," he added, scrutinising Jolly's horse, a +dark brown, which was showing the whites of its eyes. "You haven't got +any hunting here, I suppose?" + +"No; I don't know that I want to hunt. It must be awfully exciting, of +course; but it's cruel, isn't it? June says so." + +"Cruel?" ejaculated Val. "Oh! that's all rot. Who's June?" + +"My sister--my half-sister, you know--much older than me." She had put +her hands up to both cheeks of Jolly's horse, and was rubbing her nose +against its nose with a gentle snuffling noise which seemed to have an +hypnotic effect on the animal. Val contemplated her cheek resting +against the horse's nose, and her eyes gleaming round at him. 'She's +really a duck,' he thought. + +They returned to the house less talkative, followed this time by the dog +Balthasar, walking more slowly than anything on earth, and clearly +expecting them not to exceed his speed limit. + +"This is a ripping place," said Val from under the oak tree, where they +had paused to allow the dog Balthasar to come up. + +"Yes," said Holly, and sighed. "Of course I want to go everywhere. I +wish I were a gipsy." + +"Yes, gipsies are jolly," replied Val, with a conviction which had just +come to him; "you're rather like one, you know." + +Holly's face shone suddenly and deeply, like dark leaves gilded by the +sun. + +"To go mad-rabbiting everywhere and see everything, and live in the +open--oh! wouldn't it be fun?" + +"Let's do it!" said Val. + +"Oh yes, let's!" + +"It'd be grand sport, just you and I." + +Then Holly perceived the quaintness and gushed. + +"Well, we've got to do it," said Val obstinately, but reddening too. + +"I believe in doing things you want to do. What's down there?" + +"The kitchen-garden, and the pond and the coppice, and the farm." + +"Let's go down!" + +Holly glanced back at the house. + +"It's tea-time, I expect; there's Dad beckoning." + +Val, uttering a growly sound, followed her towards the house. + +When they re-entered the hall gallery the sight of two middle-aged +Forsytes drinking tea together had its magical effect, and they became +quite silent. It was, indeed, an impressive spectacle. The two were +seated side by side on an arrangement in marqueterie which looked like +three silvery pink chairs made one, with a low tea-table in front of +them. They seemed to have taken up that position, as far apart as the +seat would permit, so that they need not look at each other too much; and +they were eating and drinking rather than talking--Soames with his air of +despising the tea-cake as it disappeared, Jolyon of finding himself +slightly amusing. To the casual eye neither would have seemed greedy, +but both were getting through a good deal of sustenance. The two young +ones having been supplied with food, the process went on silent and +absorbative, till, with the advent of cigarettes, Jolyon said to Soames: + +"And how's Uncle James?" + +"Thanks, very shaky." + +"We're a wonderful family, aren't we? The other day I was calculating +the average age of the ten old Forsytes from my father's family Bible. I +make it eighty-four already, and five still living. They ought to beat +the record;" and looking whimsically at Soames, he added: + +"We aren't the men they were, you know." + +Soames smiled. 'Do you really think I shall admit that I'm not their +equal'; he seemed to be saying, 'or that I've got to give up anything, +especially life?' + +"We may live to their age, perhaps," pursued Jolyon, "but +self-consciousness is a handicap, you know, and that's the difference +between us. We've lost conviction. How and when self-consciousness was +born I never can make out. My father had a little, but I don't believe +any other of the old Forsytes ever had a scrap. Never to see yourself as +others see you, it's a wonderful preservative. The whole history of the +last century is in the difference between us. And between us and you," he +added, gazing through a ring of smoke at Val and Holly, uncomfortable +under his quizzical regard, "there'll be--another difference. I wonder +what." + +Soames took out his watch. + +"We must go," he said, "if we're to catch our train." + +"Uncle Soames never misses a train," muttered Val, with his mouth full. + +"Why should I?" Soames answered simply. + +"Oh! I don't know," grumbled Val, "other people do." + +At the front door he gave Holly's slim brown hand a long and +surreptitious squeeze. + +"Look out for me to-morrow," he whispered; "three o'clock. I'll wait for +you in the road; it'll save time. We'll have a ripping ride." He gazed +back at her from the lodge gate, and, but for the principles of a man +about town, would have waved his hand. He felt in no mood to tolerate +his uncle's conversation. But he was not in danger. Soames preserved a +perfect muteness, busy with far-away thoughts. + +The yellow leaves came down about those two walking the mile and a half +which Soames had traversed so often in those long-ago days when he came +down to watch with secret pride the building of the house--that house +which was to have been the home of him and her from whom he was now going +to seek release. He looked back once, up that endless vista of autumn +lane between the yellowing hedges. What an age ago! "I don't want to see +her," he had said to Jolyon. Was that true? 'I may have to,' he thought; +and he shivered, seized by one of those queer shudderings that they say +mean footsteps on one's grave. A chilly world! A queer world! And +glancing sidelong at his nephew, he thought: 'Wish I were his age! I +wonder what she's like now!' + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JOLYON PROSECUTES TRUSTEESHIP + +When those two were gone Jolyon did not return to his painting, for +daylight was failing, but went to the study, craving unconsciously a +revival of that momentary vision of his father sitting in the old leather +chair with his knees crossed and his straight eyes gazing up from under +the dome of his massive brow. Often in this little room, cosiest in the +house, Jolyon would catch a moment of communion with his father. Not, +indeed, that he had definitely any faith in the persistence of the human +spirit--the feeling was not so logical--it was, rather, an atmospheric +impact, like a scent, or one of those strong animistic impressions from +forms, or effects of light, to which those with the artist's eye are +especially prone. Here only--in this little unchanged room where his +father had spent the most of his waking hours--could be retrieved the +feeling that he was not quite gone, that the steady counsel of that old +spirit and the warmth of his masterful lovability endured. + +What would his father be advising now, in this sudden recrudescence of an +old tragedy--what would he say to this menace against her to whom he had +taken such a fancy in the last weeks of his life? 'I must do my best for +her,' thought Jolyon; 'he left her to me in his will. But what is the +best?' + +And as if seeking to regain the sapience, the balance and shrewd common +sense of that old Forsyte, he sat down in the ancient chair and crossed +his knees. But he felt a mere shadow sitting there; nor did any +inspiration come, while the fingers of the wind tapped on the darkening +panes of the french-window. + +'Go and see her?' he thought, 'or ask her to come down here? What's her +life been? What is it now, I wonder? Beastly to rake up things at this +time of day.' Again the figure of his cousin standing with a hand on a +front door of a fine olive-green leaped out, vivid, like one of those +figures from old-fashioned clocks when the hour strikes; and his words +sounded in Jolyon's ears clearer than any chime: "I manage my own +affairs. I've told you once, I tell you again: We are not at home." The +repugnance he had then felt for Soames--for his flat-cheeked, shaven face +full of spiritual bull-doggedness; for his spare, square, sleek figure +slightly crouched as it were over the bone he could not digest--came now +again, fresh as ever, nay, with an odd increase. 'I dislike him,' he +thought, 'I dislike him to the very roots of me. And that's lucky; it'll +make it easier for me to back his wife.' Half-artist, and half-Forsyte, +Jolyon was constitutionally averse from what he termed 'ructions'; unless +angered, he conformed deeply to that classic description of the she-dog, +'Er'd ruther run than fight.' A little smile became settled in his +beard. Ironical that Soames should come down here--to this house, built +for himself! How he had gazed and gaped at this ruin of his past +intention; furtively nosing at the walls and stairway, appraising +everything! And intuitively Jolyon thought: 'I believe the fellow even +now would like to be living here. He could never leave off longing for +what he once owned! Well, I must act, somehow or other; but it's a +bore--a great bore.' + +Late that evening he wrote to the Chelsea flat, asking if Irene would see +him. + +The old century which had seen the plant of individualism flower so +wonderfully was setting in a sky orange with coming storms. Rumours of +war added to the briskness of a London turbulent at the close of the +summer holidays. And the streets to Jolyon, who was not often up in +town, had a feverish look, due to these new motorcars and cabs, of which +he disapproved aesthetically. He counted these vehicles from his hansom, +and made the proportion of them one in twenty. 'They were one in thirty +about a year ago,' he thought; 'they've come to stay. Just so much more +rattling round of wheels and general stink'--for he was one of those +rather rare Liberals who object to anything new when it takes a material +form; and he instructed his driver to get down to the river quickly, out +of the traffic, desiring to look at the water through the mellowing +screen of plane-trees. At the little block of flats which stood back +some fifty yards from the Embankment, he told the cabman to wait, and +went up to the first floor. + +Yes, Mrs. Heron was at home! + +The effect of a settled if very modest income was at once apparent to him +remembering the threadbare refinement in that tiny flat eight years ago +when he announced her good fortune. Everything was now fresh, dainty, +and smelled of flowers. The general effect was silvery with touches of +black, hydrangea colour, and gold. 'A woman of great taste,' he thought. +Time had dealt gently with Jolyon, for he was a Forsyte. But with Irene +Time hardly seemed to deal at all, or such was his impression. She +appeared to him not a day older, standing there in mole-coloured velvet +corduroy, with soft dark eyes and dark gold hair, with outstretched hand +and a little smile. + +"Won't you sit down?" + +He had probably never occupied a chair with a fuller sense of +embarrassment. + +"You look absolutely unchanged," he said. + +"And you look younger, Cousin Jolyon." + +Jolyon ran his hands through his hair, whose thickness was still a +comfort to him. + +"I'm ancient, but I don't feel it. That's one thing about painting, it +keeps you young. Titian lived to ninety-nine, and had to have plague to +kill him off. Do you know, the first time I ever saw you I thought of a +picture by him?" + +"When did you see me for the first time?" + +"In the Botanical Gardens." + +"How did you know me, if you'd never seen me before?" + +"By someone who came up to you." He was looking at her hardily, but her +face did not change; and she said quietly: + +"Yes; many lives ago." + +"What is your recipe for youth, Irene?" + +"People who don't live are wonderfully preserved." + +H'm! a bitter little saying! People who don't live! But an opening, and +he took it. "You remember my Cousin Soames?" + +He saw her smile faintly at that whimsicality, and at once went on: + +"He came to see me the day before yesterday! He wants a divorce. Do +you?" + +"I?" The word seemed startled out of her. "After twelve years? It's +rather late. Won't it be difficult?" + +Jolyon looked hard into her face. "Unless...." he said. + +"Unless I have a lover now. But I have never had one since." + +What did he feel at the simplicity and candour of those words? Relief, +surprise, pity! Venus for twelve years without a lover! + +"And yet," he said, "I suppose you would give a good deal to be free, +too?" + +"I don't know. What does it matter, now?" + +"But if you were to love again?" + +"I should love." In that simple answer she seemed to sum up the whole +philosophy of one on whom the world had turned its back. + +"Well! Is there anything you would like me to say to him?" + +"Only that I'm sorry he's not free. He had his chance once. I don't +know why he didn't take it." + +"Because he was a Forsyte; we never part with things, you know, unless we +want something in their place; and not always then." + +Irene smiled. "Don't you, Cousin Jolyon?--I think you do." + +"Of course, I'm a bit of a mongrel--not quite a pure Forsyte. I never +take the halfpennies off my cheques, I put them on," said Jolyon +uneasily. + +"Well, what does Soames want in place of me now?" + +"I don't know; perhaps children." + +She was silent for a little, looking down. + +"Yes," she murmured; "it's hard. I would help him to be free if I +could." + +Jolyon gazed into his hat, his embarrassment was increasing fast; so was +his admiration, his wonder, and his pity. She was so lovely, and so +lonely; and altogether it was such a coil! + +"Well," he said, "I shall have to see Soames. If there's anything I can +do for you I'm always at your service. You must think of me as a +wretched substitute for my father. At all events I'll let you know what +happens when I speak to Soames. He may supply the material himself." + +She shook her head. + +"You see, he has a lot to lose; and I have nothing. I should like him to +be free; but I don't see what I can do." + +"Nor I at the moment," said Jolyon, and soon after took his leave. He +went down to his hansom. Half-past three! Soames would be at his office +still. + +"To the Poultry," he called through the trap. In front of the Houses of +Parliament and in Whitehall, newsvendors were calling, "Grave situation +in the Transvaal!" but the cries hardly roused him, absorbed in +recollection of that very beautiful figure, of her soft dark glance, and +the words: "I have never had one since." What on earth did such a woman +do with her life, back-watered like this? Solitary, unprotected, with +every man's hand against her or rather--reaching out to grasp her at the +least sign. And year after year she went on like that! + +The word 'Poultry' above the passing citizens brought him back to +reality. + +'Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte,' in black letters on a ground the colour +of peasoup, spurred him to a sort of vigour, and he went up the stone +stairs muttering: "Fusty musty ownerships! Well, we couldn't do without +them!" + +"I want Mr. Soames Forsyte," he said to the boy who opened the door. + +"What name?" + +"Mr. Jolyon Forsyte." + +The youth looked at him curiously, never having seen a Forsyte with a +beard, and vanished. + +The offices of 'Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte' had slowly absorbed the +offices of 'Tooting and Bowles,' and occupied the whole of the first +floor. + +The firm consisted now of nothing but Soames and a number of managing and +articled clerks. The complete retirement of James some six years ago had +accelerated business, to which the final touch of speed had been imparted +when Bustard dropped off, worn out, as many believed, by the suit of +'Fryer versus Forsyte,' more in Chancery than ever and less likely to +benefit its beneficiaries. Soames, with his saner grasp of actualities, +had never permitted it to worry him; on the contrary, he had long +perceived that Providence had presented him therein with L200 a year net +in perpetuity, and--why not? + +When Jolyon entered, his cousin was drawing out a list of holdings in +Consols, which in view of the rumours of war he was going to advise his +companies to put on the market at once, before other companies did the +same. He looked round, sidelong, and said: + +"How are you? Just one minute. Sit down, won't you?" And having entered +three amounts, and set a ruler to keep his place, he turned towards +Jolyon, biting the side of his flat forefinger.... + +"Yes?" he said. + +"I have seen her." + +Soames frowned. + +"Well?" + +"She has remained faithful to memory." + +Having said that, Jolyon was ashamed. His cousin had flushed a dusky +yellowish red. What had made him tease the poor brute! + +"I was to tell you she is sorry you are not free. Twelve years is a long +time. You know your law, and what chance it gives you." Soames uttered a +curious little grunt, and the two remained a full minute without +speaking. 'Like wax!' thought Jolyon, watching that close face, where +the flush was fast subsiding. 'He'll never give me a sign of what he's +thinking, or going to do. Like wax!' And he transferred his gaze to a +plan of that flourishing town, 'By-Street on Sea,' the future existence +of which lay exposed on the wall to the possessive instincts of the +firm's clients. The whimsical thought flashed through him: 'I wonder if +I shall get a bill of costs for this--"To attending Mr. Jolyon Forsyte in +the matter of my divorce, to receiving his account of his visit to my +wife, and to advising him to go and see her again, sixteen and +eightpence."' + +Suddenly Soames said: "I can't go on like this. I tell you, I can't go +on like this." His eyes were shifting from side to side, like an +animal's when it looks for way of escape. 'He really suffers,' thought +Jolyon; 'I've no business to forget that, just because I don't like him.' + +"Surely," he said gently, "it lies with yourself. A man can always put +these things through if he'll take it on himself." + +Soames turned square to him, with a sound which seemed to come from +somewhere very deep. + +"Why should I suffer more than I've suffered already? Why should I?" + +Jolyon could only shrug his shoulders. His reason agreed, his instinct +rebelled; he could not have said why. + +"Your father," went on Soames, "took an interest in her--why, goodness +knows! And I suppose you do too?" he gave Jolyon a sharp look. "It +seems to me that one only has to do another person a wrong to get all the +sympathy. I don't know in what way I was to blame--I've never known. I +always treated her well. I gave her everything she could wish for. I +wanted her." + +Again Jolyon's reason nodded; again his instinct shook its head. 'What is +it?' he thought; 'there must be something wrong in me. Yet if there is, +I'd rather be wrong than right.' + +"After all," said Soames with a sort of glum fierceness, "she was my +wife." + +In a flash the thought went through his listener: 'There it is! +Ownerships! Well, we all own things. But--human beings! Pah!' + +"You have to look at facts," he said drily, "or rather the want of them." + +Soames gave him another quick suspicious look. + +"The want of them?" he said. "Yes, but I am not so sure." + +"I beg your pardon," replied Jolyon; "I've told you what she said. It was +explicit." + +"My experience has not been one to promote blind confidence in her word. +We shall see." + +Jolyon got up. + +"Good-bye," he said curtly. + +"Good-bye," returned Soames; and Jolyon went out trying to understand the +look, half-startled, half-menacing, on his cousin's face. He sought +Waterloo Station in a disturbed frame of mind, as though the skin of his +moral being had been scraped; and all the way down in the train he +thought of Irene in her lonely flat, and of Soames in his lonely office, +and of the strange paralysis of life that lay on them both. 'In +chancery!' he thought. 'Both their necks in chancery--and her's so +pretty!' + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +VAL HEARS THE NEWS + +The keeping of engagements had not as yet been a conspicuous feature in +the life of young Val Dartie, so that when he broke two and kept one, it +was the latter event which caused him, if anything, the greater surprise, +while jogging back to town from Robin Hill after his ride with Holly. +She had been even prettier than he had thought her yesterday, on her +silver-roan, long-tailed 'palfrey'; and it seemed to him, self-critical +in the brumous October gloaming and the outskirts of London, that only +his boots had shone throughout their two-hour companionship. He took out +his new gold 'hunter'--present from James--and looked not at the time, +but at sections of his face in the glittering back of its opened case. +He had a temporary spot over one eyebrow, and it displeased him, for it +must have displeased her. Crum never had any spots. Together with Crum +rose the scene in the promenade of the Pandemonium. To-day he had not +had the faintest desire to unbosom himself to Holly about his father. +His father lacked poetry, the stirrings of which he was feeling for the +first time in his nineteen years. The Liberty, with Cynthia Dark, that +almost mythical embodiment of rapture; the Pandemonium, with the woman of +uncertain age--both seemed to Val completely 'off,' fresh from communion +with this new, shy, dark-haired young cousin of his. She rode 'Jolly +well,' too, so that it had been all the more flattering that she had let +him lead her where he would in the long gallops of Richmond Park, though +she knew them so much better than he did. Looking back on it all, he was +mystified by the barrenness of his speech; he felt that he could say 'an +awful lot of fetching things' if he had but the chance again, and the +thought that he must go back to Littlehampton on the morrow, and to +Oxford on the twelfth--'to that beastly exam,' too--without the faintest +chance of first seeing her again, caused darkness to settle on his spirit +even more quickly than on the evening. He should write to her, however, +and she had promised to answer. Perhaps, too, she would come up to +Oxford to see her brother. That thought was like the first star, which +came out as he rode into Padwick's livery stables in the purlieus of +Sloane Square. He got off and stretched himself luxuriously, for he had +ridden some twenty-five good miles. The Dartie within him made him +chaffer for five minutes with young Padwick concerning the favourite for +the Cambridgeshire; then with the words, "Put the gee down to my +account," he walked away, a little wide at the knees, and flipping his +boots with his knotty little cane. 'I don't feel a bit inclined to go +out,' he thought. 'I wonder if mother will stand fizz for my last night!' +With 'fizz' and recollection, he could well pass a domestic evening. + +When he came down, speckless after his bath, he found his mother +scrupulous in a low evening dress, and, to his annoyance, his Uncle +Soames. They stopped talking when he came in; then his uncle said: + +"He'd better be told." + +At those words, which meant something about his father, of course, Val's +first thought was of Holly. Was it anything beastly? His mother began +speaking. + +"Your father," she said in her fashionably appointed voice, while her +fingers plucked rather pitifully at sea-green brocade, "your father, my +dear boy, has--is not at Newmarket; he's on his way to South America. +He--he's left us." + +Val looked from her to Soames. Left them! Was he sorry? Was he fond of +his father? It seemed to him that he did not know. Then, suddenly--as +at a whiff of gardenias and cigars--his heart twitched within him, and he +was sorry. One's father belonged to one, could not go off in this +fashion--it was not done! Nor had he always been the 'bounder' of the +Pandemonium promenade. There were precious memories of tailors' shops +and horses, tips at school, and general lavish kindness, when in luck. + +"But why?" he said. Then, as a sportsman himself, was sorry he had +asked. The mask of his mother's face was all disturbed; and he burst +out: + +"All right, Mother, don't tell me! Only, what does it mean?" + +"A divorce, Val, I'm afraid." + +Val uttered a queer little grunt, and looked quickly at his uncle--that +uncle whom he had been taught to look on as a guarantee against the +consequences of having a father, even against the Dartie blood in his own +veins. The flat-checked visage seemed to wince, and this upset him. + +"It won't be public, will it?" + +So vividly before him had come recollection of his own eyes glued to the +unsavoury details of many a divorce suit in the Public Press. + +"Can't it be done quietly somehow? It's so disgusting for--for mother, +and--and everybody." + +"Everything will be done as quietly as it can, you may be sure." + +"Yes--but, why is it necessary at all? Mother doesn't want to marry +again." + +Himself, the girls, their name tarnished in the sight of his +schoolfellows and of Crum, of the men at Oxford, of--Holly! Unbearable! +What was to be gained by it? + +"Do you, Mother?" he said sharply. + +Thus brought face to face with so much of her own feeling by the one she +loved best in the world, Winifred rose from the Empire chair in which she +had been sitting. She saw that her son would be against her unless he +was told everything; and, yet, how could she tell him? Thus, still +plucking at the green brocade, she stared at Soames. Val, too, stared at +Soames. Surely this embodiment of respectability and the sense of +property could not wish to bring such a slur on his own sister! + +Soames slowly passed a little inlaid paperknife over the smooth surface +of a marqueterie table; then, without looking at his nephew, he began: + +"You don't understand what your mother has had to put up with these +twenty years. This is only the last straw, Val." And glancing up +sideways at Winifred, he added: + +"Shall I tell him?" + +Winifred was silent. If he were not told, he would be against her! Yet, +how dreadful to be told such things of his own father! Clenching her +lips, she nodded. + +Soames spoke in a rapid, even voice: + +"He has always been a burden round your mother's neck. She has paid his +debts over and over again; he has often been drunk, abused and threatened +her; and now he is gone to Buenos Aires with a dancer." And, as if +distrusting the efficacy of those words on the boy, he went on quickly: + +"He took your mother's pearls to give to her." + +Val jerked up his hand, then. At that signal of distress Winifred cried +out: + +"That'll do, Soames--stop!" + +In the boy, the Dartie and the Forsyte were struggling. For debts, +drink, dancers, he had a certain sympathy; but the pearls--no! That was +too much! And suddenly he found his mother's hand squeezing his. + +"You see," he heard Soames say, "we can't have it all begin over again. +There's a limit; we must strike while the iron's hot." + +Val freed his hand. + +"But--you're--never going to bring out that about the pearls! I couldn't +stand that--I simply couldn't!" + +Winifred cried out: + +"No, no, Val--oh no! That's only to show you how impossible your father +is!" And his uncle nodded. Somewhat assuaged, Val took out a cigarette. +His father had bought him that thin curved case. Oh! it was +unbearable--just as he was going up to Oxford! + +"Can't mother be protected without?" he said. "I could look after her. +It could always be done later if it was really necessary." + +A smile played for a moment round Soames' lips, and became bitter. + +"You don't know what you're talking of; nothing's so fatal as delay in +such matters." + +"Why?" + +"I tell you, boy, nothing's so fatal. I know from experience." + +His voice had the ring of exasperation. Val regarded him round-eyed, +never having known his uncle express any sort of feeling. Oh! Yes--he +remembered now--there had been an Aunt Irene, and something had +happened--something which people kept dark; he had heard his father once +use an unmentionable word of her. + +"I don't want to speak ill of your father," Soames went on doggedly, "but +I know him well enough to be sure that he'll be back on your mother's +hands before a year's over. You can imagine what that will mean to her +and to all of you after this. The only thing is to cut the knot for +good." + +In spite of himself, Val was impressed; and, happening to look at his +mother's face, he got what was perhaps his first real insight into the +fact that his own feelings were not always what mattered most. + +"All right, mother," he said; "we'll back you up. Only I'd like to know +when it'll be. It's my first term, you know. I don't want to be up +there when it comes off." + +"Oh! my dear boy," murmured Winifred, "it is a bore for you." So, by +habit, she phrased what, from the expression of her face, was the most +poignant regret. "When will it be, Soames?" + +"Can't tell--not for months. We must get restitution first." + +'What the deuce is that?' thought Val. 'What silly brutes lawyers are! +Not for months! I know one thing: I'm not going to dine in!' And he +said: + +"Awfully sorry, mother, I've got to go out to dinner now." + +Though it was his last night, Winifred nodded almost gratefully; they +both felt that they had gone quite far enough in the expression of +feeling. + +Val sought the misty freedom of Green Street, reckless and depressed. +And not till he reached Piccadilly did he discover that he had only +eighteen-pence. One couldn't dine off eighteen-pence, and he was very +hungry. He looked longingly at the windows of the Iseeum Club, where he +had often eaten of the best with his father! Those pearls! There was no +getting over them! But the more he brooded and the further he walked the +hungrier he naturally became. Short of trailing home, there were only two +places where he could go--his grandfather's in Park Lane, and Timothy's +in the Bayswater Road. Which was the less deplorable? At his +grandfather's he would probably get a better dinner on the spur of the +moment. At Timothy's they gave you a jolly good feed when they expected +you, not otherwise. He decided on Park Lane, not unmoved by the thought +that to go up to Oxford without affording his grandfather a chance to tip +him was hardly fair to either of them. His mother would hear he had been +there, of course, and might think it funny; but he couldn't help that. +He rang the bell. + +"Hullo, Warmson, any dinner for me, d'you think?" + +"They're just going in, Master Val. Mr. Forsyte will be very glad to see +you. He was saying at lunch that he never saw you nowadays." + +Val grinned. + +"Well, here I am. Kill the fatted calf, Warmson, let's have fizz." + +Warmson smiled faintly--in his opinion Val was a young limb. + +"I will ask Mrs. Forsyte, Master Val." + +"I say," Val grumbled, taking off his overcoat, "I'm not at school any +more, you know." + +Warmson, not without a sense of humour, opened the door beyond the +stag's-horn coat stand, with the words: + +"Mr. Valerus, ma'am." + +"Confound him!" thought Val, entering. + +A warm embrace, a "Well, Val!" from Emily, and a rather quavery "So there +you are at last!" from James, restored his sense of dignity. + +"Why didn't you let us know? There's only saddle of mutton. Champagne, +Warmson," said Emily. And they went in. + +At the great dining-table, shortened to its utmost, under which so many +fashionable legs had rested, James sat at one end, Emily at the other, +Val half-way between them; and something of the loneliness of his +grandparents, now that all their four children were flown, reached the +boy's spirit. 'I hope I shall kick the bucket long before I'm as old as +grandfather,' he thought. 'Poor old chap, he's as thin as a rail!' And +lowering his voice while his grandfather and Warmson were in discussion +about sugar in the soup, he said to Emily: + +"It's pretty brutal at home, Granny. I suppose you know." + +"Yes, dear boy." + +"Uncle Soames was there when I left. I say, isn't there anything to be +done to prevent a divorce? Why is he so beastly keen on it?" + +"Hush, my dear!" murmured Emily; "we're keeping it from your +grandfather." + +James' voice sounded from the other end. + +"What's that? What are you talking about?" + +"About Val's college," returned Emily. "Young Pariser was there, James; +you remember--he nearly broke the Bank at Monte Carlo afterwards." + +James muttered that he did not know--Val must look after himself up +there, or he'd get into bad ways. And he looked at his grandson with +gloom, out of which affection distrustfully glimmered. + +"What I'm afraid of," said Val to his plate, "is of being hard up, you +know." + +By instinct he knew that the weak spot in that old man was fear of +insecurity for his grandchildren. + +"Well," said James, and the soup in his spoon dribbled over, "you'll have +a good allowance; but you must keep within it." + +"Of course," murmured Val; "if it is good. How much will it be, +Grandfather?" + +"Three hundred and fifty; it's too much. I had next to nothing at your +age." + +Val sighed. He had hoped for four, and been afraid of three. "I don't +know what your young cousin has," said James; "he's up there. His +father's a rich man." + +"Aren't you?" asked Val hardily. + +"I?" replied James, flustered. "I've got so many expenses. Your +father...." and he was silent. + +"Cousin Jolyon's got an awfully jolly place. I went down there with +Uncle Soames--ripping stables." + +"Ah!" murmured James profoundly. "That house--I knew how it would be!" +And he lapsed into gloomy meditation over his fish-bones. His son's +tragedy, and the deep cleavage it had caused in the Forsyte family, had +still the power to draw him down into a whirlpool of doubts and +misgivings. Val, who hankered to talk of Robin Hill, because Robin Hill +meant Holly, turned to Emily and said: + +"Was that the house built for Uncle Soames?" And, receiving her nod, +went on: "I wish you'd tell me about him, Granny. What became of Aunt +Irene? Is she still going? He seems awfully worked-up about something +to-night." + +Emily laid her finger on her lips, but the word Irene had caught James' +ear. + +"What's that?" he said, staying a piece of mutton close to his lips. +"Who's been seeing her? I knew we hadn't heard the last of that." + +"Now, James," said Emily, "eat your dinner. Nobody's been seeing +anybody." + +James put down his fork. + +"There you go," he said. "I might die before you'd tell me of it. Is +Soames getting a divorce?" + +"Nonsense," said Emily with incomparable aplomb; "Soames is much too +sensible." + +James had sought his own throat, gathering the long white whiskers +together on the skin and bone of it. + +"She--she was always...." he said, and with that enigmatic remark the +conversation lapsed, for Warmson had returned. But later, when the +saddle of mutton had been succeeded by sweet, savoury, and dessert, and +Val had received a cheque for twenty pounds and his grandfather's +kiss--like no other kiss in the world, from lips pushed out with a sort +of fearful suddenness, as if yielding to weakness--he returned to the +charge in the hall. + +"Tell us about Uncle Soames, Granny. Why is he so keen on mother's +getting a divorce?" + +"Your Uncle Soames," said Emily, and her voice had in it an exaggerated +assurance, "is a lawyer, my dear boy. He's sure to know best." + +"Is he?" muttered Val. "But what did become of Aunt Irene? I remember +she was jolly good-looking." + +"She--er...." said Emily, "behaved very badly. We don't talk about it." + +"Well, I don't want everybody at Oxford to know about our affairs," +ejaculated Val; "it's a brutal idea. Why couldn't father be prevented +without its being made public?" + +Emily sighed. She had always lived rather in an atmosphere of divorce, +owing to her fashionable proclivities--so many of those whose legs had +been under her table having gained a certain notoriety. When, however, +it touched her own family, she liked it no better than other people. But +she was eminently practical, and a woman of courage, who never pursued a +shadow in preference to its substance. + +"Your mother," she said, "will be happier if she's quite free, Val. +Good-night, my dear boy; and don't wear loud waistcoats up at Oxford, +they're not the thing just now. Here's a little present." + +With another five pounds in his hand, and a little warmth in his heart, +for he was fond of his grandmother, he went out into Park Lane. A wind +had cleared the mist, the autumn leaves were rustling, and the stars were +shining. With all that money in his pocket an impulse to 'see life' +beset him; but he had not gone forty yards in the direction of Piccadilly +when Holly's shy face, and her eyes with an imp dancing in their gravity, +came up before him, and his hand seemed to be tingling again from the +pressure of her warm gloved hand. 'No, dash it!' he thought, 'I'm going +home!' + + + + +CHAPTER X + +SOAMES ENTERTAINS THE FUTURE + +It was full late for the river, but the weather was lovely, and summer +lingered below the yellowing leaves. Soames took many looks at the day +from his riverside garden near Mapledurham that Sunday morning. + +With his own hands he put flowers about his little house-boat, and +equipped the punt, in which, after lunch, he proposed to take them on the +river. Placing those Chinese-looking cushions, he could not tell whether +or no he wished to take Annette alone. She was so very pretty--could he +trust himself not to say irrevocable words, passing beyond the limits of +discretion? Roses on the veranda were still in bloom, and the hedges +ever-green, so that there was almost nothing of middle-aged autumn to +chill the mood; yet was he nervous, fidgety, strangely distrustful of his +powers to steer just the right course. This visit had been planned to +produce in Annette and her mother a due sense of his possessions, so that +they should be ready to receive with respect any overture he might later +be disposed to make. He dressed with great care, making himself neither +too young nor too old, very thankful that his hair was still thick and +smooth and had no grey in it. Three times he went up to his +picture-gallery. If they had any knowledge at all, they must see at once +that his collection alone was worth at least thirty thousand pounds. He +minutely inspected, too, the pretty bedroom overlooking the river where +they would take off their hats. It would be her bedroom if--if the matter +went through, and she became his wife. Going up to the dressing-table he +passed his hand over the lilac-coloured pincushion, into which were stuck +all kinds of pins; a bowl of pot-pourri exhaled a scent that made his +head turn just a little. His wife! If only the whole thing could be +settled out of hand, and there was not the nightmare of this divorce to +be gone through first; and with gloom puckered on his forehead, he looked +out at the river shining beyond the roses and the lawn. Madame Lamotte +would never resist this prospect for her child; Annette would never +resist her mother. If only he were free! He drove to the station to +meet them. What taste Frenchwomen had! Madame Lamotte was in black with +touches of lilac colour, Annette in greyish lilac linen, with cream +coloured gloves and hat. Rather pale she looked and Londony; and her +blue eyes were demure. Waiting for them to come down to lunch, Soames +stood in the open french-window of the diningroom moved by that sensuous +delight in sunshine and flowers and trees which only came to the full +when youth and beauty were there to share it with one. He had ordered +the lunch with intense consideration; the wine was a very special +Sauterne, the whole appointments of the meal perfect, the coffee served +on the veranda super-excellent. Madame Lamotte accepted creme de menthe; +Annette refused. Her manners were charming, with just a suspicion of +'the conscious beauty' creeping into them. 'Yes,' thought Soames, +'another year of London and that sort of life, and she'll be spoiled.' + +Madame was in sedate French raptures. "Adorable! Le soleil est si bon! +How everything is chic, is it not, Annette? Monsieur is a real Monte +Cristo." Annette murmured assent, with a look up at Soames which he +could not read. He proposed a turn on the river. But to punt two persons +when one of them looked so ravishing on those Chinese cushions was merely +to suffer from a sense of lost opportunity; so they went but a short way +towards Pangbourne, drifting slowly back, with every now and then an +autumn leaf dropping on Annette or on her mother's black amplitude. And +Soames was not happy, worried by the thought: 'How--when--where--can I +say--what?' They did not yet even know that he was married. To tell them +he was married might jeopardise his every chance; yet, if he did not +definitely make them understand that he wished for Annette's hand, it +would be dropping into some other clutch before he was free to claim it. + +At tea, which they both took with lemon, Soames spoke of the Transvaal. + +"There'll be war," he said. + +Madame Lamotte lamented. + +"Ces pauvres gens bergers!" Could they not be left to themselves? + +Soames smiled--the question seemed to him absurd. + +Surely as a woman of business she understood that the British could not +abandon their legitimate commercial interests. + +"Ah! that!" But Madame Lamotte found that the English were a little +hypocrite. They were talking of justice and the Uitlanders, not of +business. Monsieur was the first who had spoken to her of that. + +"The Boers are only half-civilised," remarked Soames; "they stand in the +way of progress. It will never do to let our suzerainty go." + +"What does that mean to say? Suzerainty!" + +"What a strange word!" Soames became eloquent, roused by these threats +to the principle of possession, and stimulated by Annette's eyes fixed on +him. He was delighted when presently she said: + +"I think Monsieur is right. They should be taught a lesson." She was +sensible! + +"Of course," he said, "we must act with moderation. I'm no jingo. We +must be firm without bullying. Will you come up and see my pictures?" +Moving from one to another of these treasures, he soon perceived that +they knew nothing. They passed his last Mauve, that remarkable study of +a 'Hay-cart going Home,' as if it were a lithograph. He waited almost +with awe to see how they would view the jewel of his collection--an +Israels whose price he had watched ascending till he was now almost +certain it had reached top value, and would be better on the market +again. They did not view it at all. This was a shock; and yet to have +in Annette a virgin taste to form would be better than to have the silly, +half-baked predilections of the English middle-class to deal with. At +the end of the gallery was a Meissonier of which he was rather ashamed +--Meissonier was so steadily going down. Madame Lamotte stopped before +it. + +"Meissonier! Ah! What a jewel!" Soames took advantage of that moment. +Very gently touching Annette's arm, he said: + +"How do you like my place, Annette?" + +She did not shrink, did not respond; she looked at him full, looked down, +and murmured: + +"Who would not like it? It is so beautiful!" + +"Perhaps some day--" Soames said, and stopped. + +So pretty she was, so self-possessed--she frightened him. Those +cornflower-blue eyes, the turn of that creamy neck, her delicate +curves--she was a standing temptation to indiscretion! No! No! One must +be sure of one's ground--much surer! 'If I hold off,' he thought, 'it +will tantalise her.' And he crossed over to Madame Lamotte, who was +still in front of the Meissonier. + +"Yes, that's quite a good example of his later work. You must come +again, Madame, and see them lighted up. You must both come and spend a +night." + +Enchanted, would it not be beautiful to see them lighted? By moonlight +too, the river must be ravishing! + +Annette murmured: + +"Thou art sentimental, Maman!" + +Sentimental! That black-robed, comely, substantial Frenchwoman of the +world! And suddenly he was certain as he could be that there was no +sentiment in either of them. All the better. Of what use sentiment? +And yet....! + +He drove to the station with them, and saw them into the train. To the +tightened pressure of his hand it seemed that Annette's fingers responded +just a little; her face smiled at him through the dark. + +He went back to the carriage, brooding. "Go on home, Jordan," he said to +the coachman; "I'll walk." And he strode out into the darkening lanes, +caution and the desire of possession playing see-saw within him. 'Bon +soir, monsieur!' How softly she had said it. To know what was in her +mind! The French--they were like cats--one could tell nothing! But--how +pretty! What a perfect young thing to hold in one's arms! What a mother +for his heir! And he thought, with a smile, of his family and their +surprise at a French wife, and their curiosity, and of the way he would +play with it and buffet it confound them! + +The, poplars sighed in the darkness; an owl hooted. Shadows deepened in +the water. 'I will and must be free,' he thought. 'I won't hang about +any longer. I'll go and see Irene. If you want things done, do them +yourself. I must live again--live and move and have my being.' And in +echo to that queer biblicality church-bells chimed the call to evening +prayer. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +AND VISITS THE PAST + +On a Tuesday evening after dining at his club Soames set out to do what +required more courage and perhaps less delicacy than anything he had yet +undertaken in his life--save perhaps his birth, and one other action. He +chose the evening, indeed, partly because Irene was more likely to be in, +but mainly because he had failed to find sufficient resolution by +daylight, had needed wine to give him extra daring. + +He left his hansom on the Embankment, and walked up to the Old Church, +uncertain of the block of flats where he knew she lived. He found it +hiding behind a much larger mansion; and having read the name, 'Mrs. +Irene Heron'--Heron, forsooth! Her maiden name: so she used that again, +did she?--he stepped back into the road to look up at the windows of the +first floor. Light was coming through in the corner fiat, and he could +hear a piano being played. He had never had a love of music, had secretly +borne it a grudge in the old days when so often she had turned to her +piano, making of it a refuge place into which she knew he could not +enter. Repulse! The long repulse, at first restrained and secret, at +last open! Bitter memory came with that sound. It must be she playing, +and thus almost assured of seeing her, he stood more undecided than ever. +Shivers of anticipation ran through him; his tongue felt dry, his heart +beat fast. 'I have no cause to be afraid,' he thought. And then the +lawyer stirred within him. Was he doing a foolish thing? Ought he not +to have arranged a formal meeting in the presence of her trustee? No! +Not before that fellow Jolyon, who sympathised with her! Never! He +crossed back into the doorway, and, slowly, to keep down the beating of +his heart, mounted the single flight of stairs and rang the bell. When +the door was opened to him his sensations were regulated by the scent +which came--that perfume--from away back in the past, bringing muffled +remembrance: fragrance of a drawing-room he used to enter, of a house he +used to own--perfume of dried rose-leaves and honey! + +"Say, Mr. Forsyte," he said, "your mistress will see me, I know." He had +thought this out; she would think it was Jolyon! + +When the maid was gone and he was alone in the tiny hall, where the light +was dim from one pearly-shaded sconce, and walls, carpet, everything was +silvery, making the walled-in space all ghostly, he could only think +ridiculously: 'Shall I go in with my overcoat on, or take it off?' The +music ceased; the maid said from the doorway: + +"Will you walk in, sir?" + +Soames walked in. He noted mechanically that all was still silvery, and +that the upright piano was of satinwood. She had risen and stood +recoiled against it; her hand, placed on the keys as if groping for +support, had struck a sudden discord, held for a moment, and released. +The light from the shaded piano-candle fell on her neck, leaving her face +rather in shadow. She was in a black evening dress, with a sort of +mantilla over her shoulders--he did not remember ever having seen her in +black, and the thought passed through him: 'She dresses even when she's +alone.' + +"You!" he heard her whisper. + +Many times Soames had rehearsed this scene in fancy. Rehearsal served +him not at all. He simply could not speak. He had never thought that +the sight of this woman whom he had once so passionately desired, so +completely owned, and whom he had not seen for twelve years, could affect +him in this way. He had imagined himself speaking and acting, half as +man of business, half as judge. And now it was as if he were in the +presence not of a mere woman and erring wife, but of some force, subtle +and elusive as atmosphere itself within him and outside. A kind of +defensive irony welled up in him. + +"Yes, it's a queer visit! I hope you're well." + +"Thank you. Will you sit down?" + +She had moved away from the piano, and gone over to a window-seat, +sinking on to it, with her hands clasped in her lap. Light fell on her +there, so that Soames could see her face, eyes, hair, strangely as he +remembered them, strangely beautiful. + +He sat down on the edge of a satinwood chair, upholstered with +silver-coloured stuff, close to where he was standing. + +"You have not changed," he said. + +"No? What have you come for?" + +"To discuss things." + +"I have heard what you want from your cousin." + +"Well?" + +"I am willing. I have always been." + +The sound of her voice, reserved and close, the sight of her figure +watchfully poised, defensive, was helping him now. A thousand memories +of her, ever on the watch against him, stirred, and.... + +"Perhaps you will be good enough, then, to give me information on which I +can act. The law must be complied with." + +"I have none to give you that you don't know of." + +"Twelve years! Do you suppose I can believe that?" + +"I don't suppose you will believe anything I say; but it's the truth." + +Soames looked at her hard. He had said that she had not changed; now he +perceived that she had. Not in face, except that it was more beautiful; +not in form, except that it was a little fuller--no! She had changed +spiritually. There was more of her, as it were, something of activity +and daring, where there had been sheer passive resistance. 'Ah!' he +thought, 'that's her independent income! Confound Uncle Jolyon!' + +"I suppose you're comfortably off now?" he said. + +"Thank you, yes." + +"Why didn't you let me provide for you? I would have, in spite of +everything." + +A faint smile came on her lips; but she did not answer. + +"You are still my wife," said Soames. Why he said that, what he meant by +it, he knew neither when he spoke nor after. It was a truism almost +preposterous, but its effect was startling. She rose from the +window-seat, and stood for a moment perfectly still, looking at him. He +could see her bosom heaving. Then she turned to the window and threw it +open. + +"Why do that?" he said sharply. "You'll catch cold in that dress. I'm +not dangerous." And he uttered a little sad laugh. + +She echoed it--faintly, bitterly. + +"It was--habit." + +"Rather odd habit," said Soames as bitterly. "Shut the window!" + +She shut it and sat down again. She had developed power, this +woman--this--wife of his! He felt it issuing from her as she sat there, +in a sort of armour. And almost unconsciously he rose and moved nearer; +he wanted to see the expression on her face. Her eyes met his +unflinching. Heavens! how clear they were, and what a dark brown against +that white skin, and that burnt-amber hair! And how white her shoulders. + +Funny sensation this! He ought to hate her. + +"You had better tell me," he said; "it's to your advantage to be free as +well as to mine. That old matter is too old." + +"I have told you." + +"Do you mean to tell me there has been nothing--nobody?" + +"Nobody. You must go to your own life." + +Stung by that retort, Soames moved towards the piano and back to the +hearth, to and fro, as he had been wont in the old days in their +drawing-room when his feelings were too much for him. + +"That won't do," he said. "You deserted me. In common justice it's for +you...." + +He saw her shrug those white shoulders, heard her murmur: + +"Yes. Why didn't you divorce me then? Should I have cared?" + +He stopped, and looked at her intently with a sort of curiosity. What on +earth did she do with herself, if she really lived quite alone? And why +had he not divorced her? The old feeling that she had never understood +him, never done him justice, bit him while he stared at her. + +"Why couldn't you have made me a good wife?" he said. + +"Yes; it was a crime to marry you. I have paid for it. You will find +some way perhaps. You needn't mind my name, I have none to lose. Now I +think you had better go." + +A sense of defeat--of being defrauded of his self-justification, and of +something else beyond power of explanation to himself, beset Soames like +the breath of a cold fog. Mechanically he reached up, took from the +mantel-shelf a little china bowl, reversed it, and said: + +"Lowestoft. Where did you get this? I bought its fellow at Jobson's." +And, visited by the sudden memory of how, those many years ago, he and +she had bought china together, he remained staring at the little bowl, as +if it contained all the past. Her voice roused him. + +"Take it. I don't want it." + +Soames put it back on the shelf. + +"Will you shake hands?" he said. + +A faint smile curved her lips. She held out her hand. It was cold to +his rather feverish touch. 'She's made of ice,' he thought--'she was +always made of ice!' But even as that thought darted through him, his +senses were assailed by the perfume of her dress and body, as though the +warmth within her, which had never been for him, were struggling to show +its presence. And he turned on his heel. He walked out and away, as if +someone with a whip were after him, not even looking for a cab, glad of +the empty Embankment and the cold river, and the thick-strewn shadows of +the plane-tree leaves--confused, flurried, sore at heart, and vaguely +disturbed, as though he had made some deep mistake whose consequences he +could not foresee. And the fantastic thought suddenly assailed him if +instead of, 'I think you had better go,' she had said, 'I think you had +better stay!' What should he have felt, what would he have done? That +cursed attraction of her was there for him even now, after all these +years of estrangement and bitter thoughts. It was there, ready to mount +to his head at a sign, a touch. 'I was a fool to go!' he muttered. +'I've advanced nothing. Who could imagine? I never thought!' Memory, +flown back to the first years of his marriage, played him torturing +tricks. She had not deserved to keep her beauty--the beauty he had owned +and known so well. And a kind of bitterness at the tenacity of his own +admiration welled up in him. Most men would have hated the sight of her, +as she had deserved. She had spoiled his life, wounded his pride to +death, defrauded him of a son. And yet the mere sight of her, cold and +resisting as ever, had this power to upset him utterly! It was some +damned magnetism she had! And no wonder if, as she asserted; she had +lived untouched these last twelve years. So Bosinney--cursed be his +memory!--had lived on all this time with her! Soames could not tell +whether he was glad of that knowledge or no. + +Nearing his Club at last he stopped to buy a paper. A headline ran: +'Boers reported to repudiate suzerainty!' Suzerainty! 'Just like her!' +he thought: 'she always did. Suzerainty! I still have it by rights. +She must be awfully lonely in that wretched little flat!' + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ON FORSYTE 'CHANGE + +Soames belonged to two clubs, 'The Connoisseurs,' which he put on his +cards and seldom visited, and 'The Remove,' which he did not put on his +cards and frequented. He had joined this Liberal institution five years +ago, having made sure that its members were now nearly all sound +Conservatives in heart and pocket, if not in principle. Uncle Nicholas +had put him up. The fine reading-room was decorated in the Adam style. + +On entering that evening he glanced at the tape for any news about the +Transvaal, and noted that Consols were down seven-sixteenths since the +morning. He was turning away to seek the reading-room when a voice +behind him said: + +"Well, Soames, that went off all right." + +It was Uncle Nicholas, in a frock-coat and his special cut-away collar, +with a black tie passed through a ring. Heavens! How young and dapper +he looked at eighty-two! + +"I think Roger'd have been pleased," his uncle went on. "The thing was +very well done. Blackley's? I'll make a note of them. Buxton's done me +no good. These Boers are upsetting me--that fellow Chamberlain's driving +the country into war. What do you think?" + +"Bound to come," murmured Soames. + +Nicholas passed his hand over his thin, clean-shaven cheeks, very rosy +after his summer cure; a slight pout had gathered on his lips. This +business had revived all his Liberal principles. + +"I mistrust that chap; he's a stormy petrel. House-property will go down +if there's war. You'll have trouble with Roger's estate. I often told +him he ought to get out of some of his houses. He was an opinionated +beggar." + +'There was a pair of you!' thought Soames. But he never argued with an +uncle, in that way preserving their opinion of him as 'a long-headed +chap,' and the legal care of their property. + +"They tell me at Timothy's," said Nicholas, lowering his voice, "that +Dartie has gone off at last. That'll be a relief to your father. He was +a rotten egg." + +Again Soames nodded. If there was a subject on which the Forsytes really +agreed, it was the character of Montague Dartie. + +"You take care," said Nicholas, "or he'll turn up again. Winifred had +better have the tooth out, I should say. No use preserving what's gone +bad." + +Soames looked at him sideways. His nerves, exacerbated by the interview +he had just come through, disposed him to see a personal allusion in +those words. + +"I'm advising her," he said shortly. + +"Well," said Nicholas, "the brougham's waiting; I must get home. I'm very +poorly. Remember me to your father." + +And having thus reconsecrated the ties of blood, he passed down the steps +at his youthful gait and was wrapped into his fur coat by the junior +porter. + +'I've never known Uncle Nicholas other than "very poorly,"' mused Soames, +'or seen him look other than everlasting. What a family! Judging by him, +I've got thirty-eight years of health before me. Well, I'm not going to +waste them.' And going over to a mirror he stood looking at his face. +Except for a line or two, and three or four grey hairs in his little dark +moustache, had he aged any more than Irene? The prime of life--he and +she in the very prime of life! And a fantastic thought shot into his +mind. Absurd! Idiotic! But again it came. And genuinely alarmed by the +recurrence, as one is by the second fit of shivering which presages a +feverish cold, he sat down on the weighing machine. Eleven stone! He had +not varied two pounds in twenty years. What age was she? Nearly +thirty-seven--not too old to have a child--not at all! Thirty-seven on +the ninth of next month. He remembered her birthday well--he had always +observed it religiously, even that last birthday so soon before she left +him, when he was almost certain she was faithless. Four birthdays in his +house. He had looked forward to them, because his gifts had meant a +semblance of gratitude, a certain attempt at warmth. Except, indeed, +that last birthday--which had tempted him to be too religious! And he +shied away in thought. Memory heaps dead leaves on corpse-like deeds, +from under which they do but vaguely offend the sense. And then he +thought suddenly: 'I could send her a present for her birthday. After +all, we're Christians! Couldn't!--couldn't we join up again!' And he +uttered a deep sigh sitting there. Annette! Ah! but between him and +Annette was the need for that wretched divorce suit! And how? + +"A man can always work these things, if he'll take it on himself," Jolyon +had said. + +But why should he take the scandal on himself with his whole career as a +pillar of the law at stake? It was not fair! It was quixotic! Twelve +years' separation in which he had taken no steps to free himself put out +of court the possibility of using her conduct with Bosinney as a ground +for divorcing her. By doing nothing to secure relief he had acquiesced, +even if the evidence could now be gathered, which was more than doubtful. +Besides, his own pride would never let him use that old incident, he had +suffered from it too much. No! Nothing but fresh misconduct on her +part--but she had denied it; and--almost--he had believed her. Hung up! +Utterly hung up! + +He rose from the scooped-out red velvet seat with a feeling of +constriction about his vitals. He would never sleep with this going on +in him! And, taking coat and hat again, he went out, moving eastward. +In Trafalgar Square he became aware of some special commotion travelling +towards him out of the mouth of the Strand. It materialised in newspaper +men calling out so loudly that no words whatever could be heard. He +stopped to listen, and one came by. + +"Payper! Special! Ultimatium by Krooger! Declaration of war!" Soames +bought the paper. There it was in the stop press....! His first thought +was: 'The Boers are committing suicide.' His second: 'Is there anything +still I ought to sell?' If so he had missed the chance--there would +certainly be a slump in the city to-morrow. He swallowed this thought +with a nod of defiance. That ultimatum was insolent--sooner than let it +pass he was prepared to lose money. They wanted a lesson, and they would +get it; but it would take three months at least to bring them to heel. +There weren't the troops out there; always behind time, the Government! +Confound those newspaper rats! What was the use of waking everybody up? +Breakfast to-morrow was quite soon enough. And he thought with alarm of +his father. They would cry it down Park Lane. Hailing a hansom, he got +in and told the man to drive there. + +James and Emily had just gone up to bed, and after communicating the news +to Warmson, Soames prepared to follow. He paused by after-thought to +say: + +"What do you think of it, Warmson?" + +The butler ceased passing a hat brush over the silk hat Soames had taken +off, and, inclining his face a little forward, said in a low voice: +"Well, sir, they 'aven't a chance, of course; but I'm told they're very +good shots. I've got a son in the Inniskillings." + +"You, Warmson? Why, I didn't know you were married." + +"No, sir. I don't talk of it. I expect he'll be going out." + +The slighter shock Soames had felt on discovering that he knew so little +of one whom he thought he knew so well was lost in the slight shock of +discovering that the war might touch one personally. Born in the year of +the Crimean War, he had only come to consciousness by the time the Indian +Mutiny was over; since then the many little wars of the British Empire +had been entirely professional, quite unconnected with the Forsytes and +all they stood for in the body politic. This war would surely be no +exception. But his mind ran hastily over his family. Two of the +Haymans, he had heard, were in some Yeomanry or other--it had always been +a pleasant thought, there was a certain distinction about the Yeomanry; +they wore, or used to wear, a blue uniform with silver about it, and rode +horses. And Archibald, he remembered, had once on a time joined the +Militia, but had given it up because his father, Nicholas, had made such +a fuss about his 'wasting his time peacocking about in a uniform.' +Recently he had heard somewhere that young Nicholas' eldest, very young +Nicholas, had become a Volunteer. 'No,' thought Soames, mounting the +stairs slowly, 'there's nothing in that!' + +He stood on the landing outside his parents' bed and dressing rooms, +debating whether or not to put his nose in and say a reassuring word. +Opening the landing window, he listened. The rumble from Piccadilly was +all the sound he heard, and with the thought, 'If these motor-cars +increase, it'll affect house property,' he was about to pass on up to the +room always kept ready for him when he heard, distant as yet, the hoarse +rushing call of a newsvendor. There it was, and coming past the house! +He knocked on his mother's door and went in. + +His father was sitting up in bed, with his ears pricked under the white +hair which Emily kept so beautifully cut. He looked pink, and +extraordinarily clean, in his setting of white sheet and pillow, out of +which the points of his high, thin, nightgowned shoulders emerged in +small peaks. His eyes alone, grey and distrustful under their withered +lids, were moving from the window to Emily, who in a wrapper was walking +up and down, squeezing a rubber ball attached to a scent bottle. The +room reeked faintly of the eau-de-Cologne she was spraying. + +"All right!" said Soames, "it's not a fire. The Boers have declared +war--that's all." + +Emily stopped her spraying. + +"Oh!" was all she said, and looked at James. + +Soames, too, looked at his father. He was taking it differently from +their expectation, as if some thought, strange to them, were working in +him. + +"H'm!" he muttered suddenly, "I shan't live to see the end of this." + +"Nonsense, James! It'll be over by Christmas." + +"What do you know about it?" James answered her with asperity. "It's a +pretty mess at this time of night, too!" He lapsed into silence, and his +wife and son, as if hypnotised, waited for him to say: 'I can't tell--I +don't know; I knew how it would be!' But he did not. The grey eyes +shifted, evidently seeing nothing in the room; then movement occurred +under the bedclothes, and the knees were drawn up suddenly to a great +height. + +"They ought to send out Roberts. It all comes from that fellow Gladstone +and his Majuba." + +The two listeners noted something beyond the usual in his voice, +something of real anxiety. It was as if he had said: 'I shall never see +the old country peaceful and safe again. I shall have to die before I +know she's won.' And in spite of the feeling that James must not be +encouraged to be fussy, they were touched. Soames went up to the bedside +and stroked his father's hand which had emerged from under the +bedclothes, long and wrinkled with veins. + +"Mark my words!" said James, "consols will go to par. For all I know, +Val may go and enlist." + +"Oh, come, James!" cried Emily, "you talk as if there were danger." + +Her comfortable voice seemed to soothe James for once. + +"Well," he muttered, "I told you how it would be. I don't know, I'm +sure--nobody tells me anything. Are you sleeping here, my boy?" + +The crisis was past, he would now compose himself to his normal degree of +anxiety; and, assuring his father that he was sleeping in the house, +Soames pressed his hand, and went up to his room. + +The following afternoon witnessed the greatest crowd Timothy's had known +for many a year. On national occasions, such as this, it was, indeed, +almost impossible to avoid going there. Not that there was any danger or +rather only just enough to make it necessary to assure each other that +there was none. + +Nicholas was there early. He had seen Soames the night before--Soames +had said it was bound to come. This old Kruger was in his dotage--why, +he must be seventy-five if he was a day! + +(Nicholas was eighty-two.) What had Timothy said? He had had a fit after +Majuba. These Boers were a grasping lot! The dark-haired Francie, who +had arrived on his heels, with the contradictious touch which became the +free spirit of a daughter of Roger, chimed in: + +"Kettle and pot, Uncle Nicholas. What price the Uitlanders?" What price, +indeed! A new expression, and believed to be due to her brother George. + +Aunt Juley thought Francie ought not to say such a thing. Dear Mrs. +MacAnder's boy, Charlie MacAnder, was one, and no one could call him +grasping. At this Francie uttered one of her mots, scandalising, and so +frequently repeated: + +"Well, his father's a Scotchman, and his mother's a cat." + +Aunt Juley covered her ears, too late, but Aunt Hester smiled; as for +Nicholas, he pouted--witticism of which he was not the author was hardly +to his taste. Just then Marian Tweetyman arrived, followed almost +immediately by young Nicholas. On seeing his son, Nicholas rose. + +"Well, I must be going," he said, "Nick here will tell you what'll win +the race." And with this hit at his eldest, who, as a pillar of +accountancy, and director of an insurance company, was no more addicted +to sport than his father had ever been, he departed. Dear Nicholas! +What race was that? Or was it only one of his jokes? He was a wonderful +man for his age! How many lumps would dear Marian take? And how were +Giles and Jesse? Aunt Juley supposed their Yeomanry would be very busy +now, guarding the coast, though of course the Boers had no ships. But +one never knew what the French might do if they had the chance, +especially since that dreadful Fashoda scare, which had upset Timothy so +terribly that he had made no investments for months afterwards. It was +the ingratitude of the Boers that was so dreadful, after everything had +been done for them--Dr. Jameson imprisoned, and he was so nice, Mrs. +MacAnder had always said. And Sir Alfred Milner sent out to talk to +them--such a clever man! She didn't know what they wanted. + +But at this moment occurred one of those sensations--so precious at +Timothy's--which great occasions sometimes bring forth: + +"Miss June Forsyte." + +Aunts Juley and Hester were on their feet at once, trembling from +smothered resentment, and old affection bubbling up, and pride at the +return of a prodigal June! Well, this was a surprise! Dear June--after +all these years! And how well she was looking! Not changed at all! It +was almost on their lips to add, 'And how is your dear grandfather?' +forgetting in that giddy moment that poor dear Jolyon had been in his +grave for seven years now. + +Ever the most courageous and downright of all the Forsytes, June, with +her decided chin and her spirited eyes and her hair like flame, sat down, +slight and short, on a gilt chair with a bead-worked seat, for all the +world as if ten years had not elapsed since she had been to see them--ten +years of travel and independence and devotion to lame ducks. Those ducks +of late had been all definitely painters, etchers, or sculptors, so that +her impatience with the Forsytes and their hopelessly inartistic outlook +had become intense. Indeed, she had almost ceased to believe that her +family existed, and looked round her now with a sort of challenging +directness which brought exquisite discomfort to the roomful. She had +not expected to meet any of them but 'the poor old things'; and why she +had come to see them she hardly knew, except that, while on her way from +Oxford Street to a studio in Latimer Road, she had suddenly remembered +them with compunction as two long-neglected old lame ducks. + +Aunt Juley broke the hush again. "We've just been saying, dear, how +dreadful it is about these Boers! And what an impudent thing of that old +Kruger!" + +"Impudent!" said June. "I think he's quite right. What business have we +to meddle with them? If he turned out all those wretched Uitlanders it +would serve them right. They're only after money." + +The silence of sensation was broken by Francie saying: + +"What? Are you a pro-Boer?" (undoubtedly the first use of that +expression). + +"Well! Why can't we leave them alone?" said June, just as, in the open +doorway, the maid said "Mr. Soames Forsyte." Sensation on sensation! +Greeting was almost held up by curiosity to see how June and he would +take this encounter, for it was shrewdly suspected, if not quite known, +that they had not met since that old and lamentable affair of her fiance +Bosinney with Soames' wife. They were seen to just touch each other's +hands, and look each at the other's left eye only. Aunt Juley came at +once to the rescue: + +"Dear June is so original. Fancy, Soames, she thinks the Boers are not +to blame." + +"They only want their independence," said June; "and why shouldn't they +have it?" + +"Because," answered Soames, with his smile a little on one side, "they +happen to have agreed to our suzerainty." + +"Suzerainty!" repeated June scornfully; "we shouldn't like anyone's +suzerainty over us." + +"They got advantages in payment," replied Soames; "a contract is a +contract." + +"Contracts are not always just," fumed out June, "and when they're not, +they ought to be broken. The Boers are much the weaker. We could afford +to be generous." + +Soames sniffed. "That's mere sentiment," he said. + +Aunt Hester, to whom nothing was more awful than any kind of +disagreement, here leaned forward and remarked decisively: + +"What lovely weather it has been for the time of year?" + +But June was not to be diverted. + +"I don't know why sentiment should be sneered at. It's the best thing in +the world." She looked defiantly round, and Aunt Juley had to intervene +again: + +"Have you bought any pictures lately, Soames?" + +Her incomparable instinct for the wrong subject had not failed her. +Soames flushed. To disclose the name of his latest purchases would be +like walking into the jaws of disdain. For somehow they all knew of +June's predilection for 'genius' not yet on its legs, and her contempt +for 'success' unless she had had a finger in securing it. + +"One or two," he muttered. + +But June's face had changed; the Forsyte within her was seeing its +chance. Why should not Soames buy some of the pictures of Eric +Cobbley--her last lame duck? And she promptly opened her attack: Did +Soames know his work? It was so wonderful. He was the coming man. + +Oh, yes, Soames knew his work. It was in his view 'splashy,' and would +never get hold of the public. + +June blazed up. + +"Of course it won't; that's the last thing one would wish for. I thought +you were a connoisseur, not a picture-dealer." + +"Of course Soames is a connoisseur," Aunt Juley said hastily; "he has +wonderful taste--he can always tell beforehand what's going to be +successful." + +"Oh!" gasped June, and sprang up from the bead-covered chair, "I hate +that standard of success. Why can't people buy things because they like +them?" + +"You mean," said Francie, "because you like them." + +And in the slight pause young Nicholas was heard saying gently that +Violet (his fourth) was taking lessons in pastel, he didn't know if they +were any use. + +"Well, good-bye, Auntie," said June; "I must get on," and kissing her +aunts, she looked defiantly round the room, said "Good-bye" again, and +went. A breeze seemed to pass out with her, as if everyone had sighed. + +The third sensation came before anyone had time to speak: + +"Mr. James Forsyte." + +James came in using a stick slightly and wrapped in a fur coat which gave +him a fictitious bulk. + +Everyone stood up. James was so old; and he had not been at Timothy's +for nearly two years. + +"It's hot in here," he said. + +Soames divested him of his coat, and as he did so could not help admiring +the glossy way his father was turned out. James sat down, all knees, +elbows, frock-coat, and long white whiskers. + +"What's the meaning of that?" he said. + +Though there was no apparent sense in his words, they all knew that he +was referring to June. His eyes searched his son's face. + +"I thought I'd come and see for myself. What have they answered Kruger?" + +Soames took out an evening paper, and read the headline. + +"'Instant action by our Government--state of war existing!'" + +"Ah!" said James, and sighed. "I was afraid they'd cut and run like old +Gladstone. We shall finish with them this time." + +All stared at him. James! Always fussy, nervous, anxious! James with +his continual, 'I told you how it would be!' and his pessimism, and his +cautious investments. There was something uncanny about such resolution +in this the oldest living Forsyte. + +"Where's Timothy?" said James. "He ought to pay attention to this." + +Aunt Juley said she didn't know; Timothy had not said much at lunch +to-day. Aunt Hester rose and threaded her way out of the room, and +Francie said rather maliciously: + +"The Boers are a hard nut to crack, Uncle James." + +"H'm!" muttered James. "Where do you get your information? Nobody tells +me." + +Young Nicholas remarked in his mild voice that Nick (his eldest) was now +going to drill regularly. + +"Ah!" muttered James, and stared before him--his thoughts were on Val. +"He's got to look after his mother," he said, "he's got no time for +drilling and that, with that father of his." This cryptic saying +produced silence, until he spoke again. + +"What did June want here?" And his eyes rested with suspicion on all of +them in turn. "Her father's a rich man now." The conversation turned on +Jolyon, and when he had been seen last. It was supposed that he went +abroad and saw all sorts of people now that his wife was dead; his +water-colours were on the line, and he was a successful man. Francie +went so far as to say: + +"I should like to see him again; he was rather a dear." + +Aunt Juley recalled how he had gone to sleep on the sofa one day, where +James was sitting. He had always been very amiable; what did Soames +think? + +Knowing that Jolyon was Irene's trustee, all felt the delicacy of this +question, and looked at Soames with interest. A faint pink had come up +in his cheeks. + +"He's going grey," he said. + +Indeed! Had Soames seen him? Soames nodded, and the pink vanished. + +James said suddenly: "Well--I don't know, I can't tell." + +It so exactly expressed the sentiment of everybody present that there was +something behind everything, that nobody responded. But at this moment +Aunt Hester returned. + +"Timothy," she said in a low voice, "Timothy has bought a map, and he's +put in--he's put in three flags." + +Timothy had ....! A sigh went round the company. + +If Timothy had indeed put in three flags already, well!--it showed what +the nation could do when it was roused. The war was as good as over. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +JOLYON FINDS OUT WHERE HE IS + +Jolyon stood at the window in Holly's old night nursery, converted into a +studio, not because it had a north light, but for its view over the +prospect away to the Grand Stand at Epsom. He shifted to the side window +which overlooked the stableyard, and whistled down to the dog Balthasar +who lay for ever under the clock tower. The old dog looked up and wagged +his tail. 'Poor old boy!' thought Jolyon, shifting back to the other +window. + +He had been restless all this week, since his attempt to prosecute +trusteeship, uneasy in his conscience which was ever acute, disturbed in +his sense of compassion which was easily excited, and with a queer +sensation as if his feeling for beauty had received some definite +embodiment. Autumn was getting hold of the old oak-tree, its leaves were +browning. Sunshine had been plentiful and hot this summer. As with +trees, so with men's lives! 'I ought to live long,' thought Jolyon; 'I'm +getting mildewed for want of heat. If I can't work, I shall be off to +Paris.' But memory of Paris gave him no pleasure. Besides, how could he +go? He must stay and see what Soames was going to do. 'I'm her trustee. +I can't leave her unprotected,' he thought. It had been striking him as +curious how very clearly he could still see Irene in her little +drawing-room which he had only twice entered. Her beauty must have a +sort of poignant harmony! No literal portrait would ever do her justice; +the essence of her was--ah I what?... The noise of hoofs called him back +to the other window. Holly was riding into the yard on her long-tailed +'palfrey.' She looked up and he waved to her. She had been rather +silent lately; getting old, he supposed, beginning to want her future, as +they all did--youngsters! + +Time was certainly the devil! And with the feeling that to waste this +swift-travelling commodity was unforgivable folly, he took up his brush. +But it was no use; he could not concentrate his eye--besides, the light +was going. 'I'll go up to town,' he thought. In the hall a servant met +him. + +"A lady to see you, sir; Mrs. Heron." + +Extraordinary coincidence! Passing into the picture-gallery, as it was +still called, he saw Irene standing over by the window. + +She came towards him saying: + +"I've been trespassing; I came up through the coppice and garden. I +always used to come that way to see Uncle Jolyon." + +"You couldn't trespass here," replied Jolyon; "history makes that +impossible. I was just thinking of you." + +Irene smiled. And it was as if something shone through; not mere +spirituality--serener, completer, more alluring. + +"History!" she answered; "I once told Uncle Jolyon that love was for +ever. Well, it isn't. Only aversion lasts." + +Jolyon stared at her. Had she got over Bosinney at last? + +"Yes!" he said, "aversion's deeper than love or hate because it's a +natural product of the nerves, and we don't change them." + +"I came to tell you that Soames has been to see me. He said a thing that +frightened me. He said: 'You are still my wife!'" + +"What!" ejaculated Jolyon. "You ought not to live alone." And he +continued to stare at her, afflicted by the thought that where Beauty +was, nothing ever ran quite straight, which, no doubt, was why so many +people looked on it as immoral. + +"What more?" + +"He asked me to shake hands. + +"Did you?" + +"Yes. When he came in I'm sure he didn't want to; he changed while he +was there." + +"Ah! you certainly ought not to go on living there alone." + +"I know no woman I could ask; and I can't take a lover to order, Cousin +Jolyon." + +"Heaven forbid!" said Jolyon. "What a damnable position! Will you stay +to dinner? No? Well, let me see you back to town; I wanted to go up +this evening." + +"Truly?" + +"Truly. I'll be ready in five minutes." + +On that walk to the station they talked of pictures and music, +contrasting the English and French characters and the difference in their +attitude to Art. But to Jolyon the colours in the hedges of the long +straight lane, the twittering of chaffinches who kept pace with them, the +perfume of weeds being already burned, the turn of her neck, the +fascination of those dark eyes bent on him now and then, the lure of her +whole figure, made a deeper impression than the remarks they exchanged. +Unconsciously he held himself straighter, walked with a more elastic +step. + +In the train he put her through a sort of catechism as to what she did +with her days. + +Made her dresses, shopped, visited a hospital, played her piano, +translated from the French. + +She had regular work from a publisher, it seemed, which supplemented her +income a little. She seldom went out in the evening. "I've been living +alone so long, you see, that I don't mind it a bit. I believe I'm +naturally solitary." + +"I don't believe that," said Jolyon. "Do you know many people?" + +"Very few." + +At Waterloo they took a hansom, and he drove with her to the door of her +mansions. Squeezing her hand at parting, he said: + +"You know, you could always come to us at Robin Hill; you must let me +know everything that happens. Good-bye, Irene." + +"Good-bye," she answered softly. + +Jolyon climbed back into his cab, wondering why he had not asked her to +dine and go to the theatre with him. Solitary, starved, hung-up life +that she had! "Hotch Potch Club," he said through the trap-door. As his +hansom debouched on to the Embankment, a man in top-hat and overcoat +passed, walking quickly, so close to the wall that he seemed to be +scraping it. + +'By Jove!' thought Jolyon; 'Soames himself! What's he up to now?' And, +stopping the cab round the corner, he got out and retraced his steps to +where he could see the entrance to the mansions. Soames had halted in +front of them, and was looking up at the light in her windows. 'If he +goes in,' thought Jolyon, 'what shall I do? What have I the right to +do?' What the fellow had said was true. She was still his wife, +absolutely without protection from annoyance! 'Well, if he goes in,' he +thought, 'I follow.' And he began moving towards the mansions. Again +Soames advanced; he was in the very entrance now. But suddenly he +stopped, spun round on his heel, and came back towards the river. 'What +now?' thought Jolyon. 'In a dozen steps he'll recognise me.' And he +turned tail. His cousin's footsteps kept pace with his own. But he +reached his cab, and got in before Soames had turned the corner. "Go +on!" he said through the trap. Soames' figure ranged up alongside. + +"Hansom!" he said. "Engaged? Hallo!" + +"Hallo!" answered Jolyon. "You?" + +The quick suspicion on his cousin's face, white in the lamplight, decided +him. + +"I can give you a lift," he said, "if you're going West." + +"Thanks," answered Soames, and got in. + +"I've been seeing Irene," said Jolyon when the cab had started. + +"Indeed!" + +"You went to see her yesterday yourself, I understand." + +"I did," said Soames; "she's my wife, you know." + +The tone, the half-lifted sneering lip, roused sudden anger in Jolyon; +but he subdued it. + +"You ought to know best," he said, "but if you want a divorce it's not +very wise to go seeing her, is it? One can't run with the hare and hunt +with the hounds?" + +"You're very good to warn me," said Soames, "but I have not made up my +mind." + +"She has," said Jolyon, looking straight before him; "you can't take +things up, you know, as they were twelve years ago." + +"That remains to be seen." + +"Look here!" said Jolyon, "she's in a damnable position, and I am the +only person with any legal say in her affairs." + +"Except myself," retorted Soames, "who am also in a damnable position. +Hers is what she made for herself; mine what she made for me. I am not +at all sure that in her own interests I shan't require her to return to +me." + +"What!" exclaimed Jolyon; and a shiver went through his whole body. + +"I don't know what you may mean by 'what,'" answered Soames coldly; "your +say in her affairs is confined to paying out her income; please bear that +in mind. In choosing not to disgrace her by a divorce, I retained my +rights, and, as I say, I am not at all sure that I shan't require to +exercise them." + +"My God!" ejaculated Jolyon, and he uttered a short laugh. + +"Yes," said Soames, and there was a deadly quality in his voice. "I've +not forgotten the nickname your father gave me, 'The man of property'! +I'm not called names for nothing." + +"This is fantastic," murmured Jolyon. Well, the fellow couldn't force +his wife to live with him. Those days were past, anyway! And he looked +around at Soames with the thought: 'Is he real, this man?' But Soames +looked very real, sitting square yet almost elegant with the clipped +moustache on his pale face, and a tooth showing where a lip was lifted in +a fixed smile. There was a long silence, while Jolyon thought: 'Instead +of helping her, I've made things worse.' Suddenly Soames said: + +"It would be the best thing that could happen to her in many ways." + +At those words such a turmoil began taking place in Jolyon that he could +barely sit still in the cab. It was as if he were boxed up with hundreds +of thousands of his countrymen, boxed up with that something in the +national character which had always been to him revolting, something +which he knew to be extremely natural and yet which seemed to him +inexplicable--their intense belief in contracts and vested rights, their +complacent sense of virtue in the exaction of those rights. Here beside +him in the cab was the very embodiment, the corporeal sum as it were, of +the possessive instinct--his own kinsman, too! It was uncanny and +intolerable! 'But there's something more in it than that!' he thought +with a sick feeling. 'The dog, they say, returns to his vomit! The +sight of her has reawakened something. Beauty! The devil's in it!' + +"As I say," said Soames, "I have not made up my mind. I shall be obliged +if you will kindly leave her quite alone." + +Jolyon bit his lips; he who had always hated rows almost welcomed the +thought of one now. + +"I can give you no such promise," he said shortly. + +"Very well," said Soames, "then we know where we are. I'll get down +here." And stopping the cab he got out without word or sign of farewell. +Jolyon travelled on to his Club. + +The first news of the war was being called in the streets, but he paid no +attention. What could he do to help her? If only his father were alive! +He could have done so much! But why could he not do all that his father +could have done? Was he not old enough?--turned fifty and twice married, +with grown-up daughters and a son. 'Queer,' he thought. 'If she were +plain I shouldn't be thinking twice about it. Beauty is the devil, when +you're sensitive to it!' And into the Club reading-room he went with a +disturbed heart. In that very room he and Bosinney had talked one summer +afternoon; he well remembered even now the disguised and secret lecture +he had given that young man in the interests of June, the diagnosis of +the Forsytes he had hazarded; and how he had wondered what sort of woman +it was he was warning him against. And now! He was almost in want of a +warning himself. 'It's deuced funny!' he thought, 'really deuced +funny!' + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +SOAMES DISCOVERS WHAT HE WANTS + +It is so much easier to say, "Then we know where we are," than to mean +anything particular by the words. And in saying them Soames did but vent +the jealous rankling of his instincts. He got out of the cab in a state +of wary anger--with himself for not having seen Irene, with Jolyon for +having seen her; and now with his inability to tell exactly what he +wanted. + +He had abandoned the cab because he could not bear to remain seated +beside his cousin, and walking briskly eastwards he thought: 'I wouldn't +trust that fellow Jolyon a yard. Once outcast, always outcast!' The +chap had a natural sympathy with--with--laxity (he had shied at the word +sin, because it was too melodramatic for use by a Forsyte). + +Indecision in desire was to him a new feeling. He was like a child +between a promised toy and an old one which had been taken away from him; +and he was astonished at himself. Only last Sunday desire had seemed +simple--just his freedom and Annette. 'I'll go and dine there,' he +thought. To see her might bring back his singleness of intention, calm +his exasperation, clear his mind. + +The restaurant was fairly full--a good many foreigners and folk whom, +from their appearance, he took to be literary or artistic. Scraps of +conversation came his way through the clatter of plates and glasses. He +distinctly heard the Boers sympathised with, the British Government +blamed. 'Don't think much of their clientele,' he thought. He went +stolidly through his dinner and special coffee without making his +presence known, and when at last he had finished, was careful not to be +seen going towards the sanctum of Madame Lamotte. They were, as he +entered, having supper--such a much nicer-looking supper than the dinner +he had eaten that he felt a kind of grief--and they greeted him with a +surprise so seemingly genuine that he thought with sudden suspicion: 'I +believe they knew I was here all the time.' He gave Annette a look +furtive and searching. So pretty, seemingly so candid; could she be +angling for him? He turned to Madame Lamotte and said: + +"I've been dining here." + +Really! If she had only known! There were dishes she could have +recommended; what a pity! Soames was confirmed in his suspicion. 'I must +look out what I'm doing!' he thought sharply. + +"Another little cup of very special coffee, monsieur; a liqueur, Grand +Marnier?" and Madame Lamotte rose to order these delicacies. + +Alone with Annette Soames said, "Well, Annette?" with a defensive little +smile about his lips. + +The girl blushed. This, which last Sunday would have set his nerves +tingling, now gave him much the same feeling a man has when a dog that he +owns wriggles and looks at him. He had a curious sense of power, as if +he could have said to her, 'Come and kiss me,' and she would have come. +And yet--it was strange--but there seemed another face and form in the +room too; and the itch in his nerves, was it for that--or for this? He +jerked his head towards the restaurant and said: "You have some queer +customers. Do you like this life?" + +Annette looked up at him for a moment, looked down, and played with her +fork. + +"No," she said, "I do not like it." + +'I've got her,' thought Soames, 'if I want her. But do I want her?' She +was graceful, she was pretty--very pretty; she was fresh, she had taste +of a kind. His eyes travelled round the little room; but the eyes of his +mind went another journey--a half-light, and silvery walls, a satinwood +piano, a woman standing against it, reined back as it were from him--a +woman with white shoulders that he knew, and dark eyes that he had sought +to know, and hair like dull dark amber. And as in an artist who strives +for the unrealisable and is ever thirsty, so there rose in him at that +moment the thirst of the old passion he had never satisfied. + +"Well," he said calmly, "you're young. There's everything before you." + +Annette shook her head. + +"I think sometimes there is nothing before me but hard work. I am not so +in love with work as mother." + +"Your mother is a wonder," said Soames, faintly mocking; "she will never +let failure lodge in her house." + +Annette sighed. "It must be wonderful to be rich." + +"Oh! You'll be rich some day," answered Soames, still with that faint +mockery; "don't be afraid." + +Annette shrugged her shoulders. "Monsieur is very kind." And between +her pouting lips she put a chocolate. + +'Yes, my dear,' thought Soames, 'they're very pretty.' + +Madame Lamotte, with coffee and liqueur, put an end to that colloquy. +Soames did not stay long. + +Outside in the streets of Soho, which always gave him such a feeling of +property improperly owned, he mused. If only Irene had given him a son, +he wouldn't now be squirming after women! The thought had jumped out of +its little dark sentry-box in his inner consciousness. A son--something +to look forward to, something to make the rest of life worth while, +something to leave himself to, some perpetuity of self. 'If I had a +son,' he thought bitterly, 'a proper legal son, I could make shift to go +on as I used. One woman's much the same as another, after all.' But as +he walked he shook his head. No! One woman was not the same as another. +Many a time had he tried to think that in the old days of his thwarted +married life; and he had always failed. He was failing now. He was +trying to think Annette the same as that other. But she was not, she had +not the lure of that old passion. 'And Irene's my wife,' he thought, 'my +legal wife. I have done nothing to put her away from me. Why shouldn't +she come back to me? It's the right thing, the lawful thing. It makes +no scandal, no disturbance. If it's disagreeable to her--but why should +it be? I'm not a leper, and she--she's no longer in love!' Why should +he be put to the shifts and the sordid disgraces and the lurking defeats +of the Divorce Court, when there she was like an empty house only waiting +to be retaken into use and possession by him who legally owned her? To +one so secretive as Soames the thought of reentry into quiet possession +of his own property with nothing given away to the world was intensely +alluring. 'No,' he mused, 'I'm glad I went to see that girl. I know now +what I want most. If only Irene will come back I'll be as considerate as +she wishes; she could live her own life; but perhaps--perhaps she would +come round to me.' There was a lump in his throat. And doggedly along +by the railings of the Green Park, towards his father's house, he went, +trying to tread on his shadow walking before him in the brilliant +moonlight. + + + + +PART II + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE THIRD GENERATION + +Jolly Forsyte was strolling down High Street, Oxford, on a November +afternoon; Val Dartie was strolling up. Jolly had just changed out of +boating flannels and was on his way to the 'Frying-pan,' to which he had +recently been elected. Val had just changed out of riding clothes and +was on his way to the fire--a bookmaker's in Cornmarket. + +"Hallo!" said Jolly. + +"Hallo!" replied Val. + +The cousins had met but twice, Jolly, the second-year man, having invited +the freshman to breakfast; and last evening they had seen each other +again under somewhat exotic circumstances. + +Over a tailor's in the Cornmarket resided one of those privileged young +beings called minors, whose inheritances are large, whose parents are +dead, whose guardians are remote, and whose instincts are vicious. At +nineteen he had commenced one of those careers attractive and +inexplicable to ordinary mortals for whom a single bankruptcy is good as +a feast. Already famous for having the only roulette table then to be +found in Oxford, he was anticipating his expectations at a dazzling rate. +He out-crummed Crum, though of a sanguine and rather beefy type which +lacked the latter's fascinating languor. For Val it had been in the +nature of baptism to be taken there to play roulette; in the nature of +confirmation to get back into college, after hours, through a window +whose bars were deceptive. Once, during that evening of delight, +glancing up from the seductive green before him, he had caught sight, +through a cloud of smoke, of his cousin standing opposite. 'Rouge gagne, +impair, et manque!' He had not seen him again. + +"Come in to the Frying-pan and have tea," said Jolly, and they went in. + +A stranger, seeing them together, would have noticed an unseizable +resemblance between these second cousins of the third generations of +Forsytes; the same bone formation in face, though Jolly's eyes were +darker grey, his hair lighter and more wavy. + +"Tea and buttered buns, waiter, please," said Jolly. + +"Have one of my cigarettes?" said Val. "I saw you last night. How did +you do?" + +"I didn't play." + +"I won fifteen quid." + +Though desirous of repeating a whimsical comment on gambling he had once +heard his father make--'When you're fleeced you're sick, and when you +fleece you're sorry--Jolly contented himself with: + +"Rotten game, I think; I was at school with that chap. He's an awful +fool." + +"Oh! I don't know," said Val, as one might speak in defence of a +disparaged god; "he's a pretty good sport." + +They exchanged whiffs in silence. + +"You met my people, didn't you?" said Jolly. "They're coming up +to-morrow." + +Val grew a little red. + +"Really! I can give you a rare good tip for the Manchester November +handicap." + +"Thanks, I only take interest in the classic races." + +"You can't make any money over them," said Val. + +"I hate the ring," said Jolly; "there's such a row and stink. I like the +paddock." + +"I like to back my judgment,"' answered Val. + +Jolly smiled; his smile was like his father's. + +"I haven't got any. I always lose money if I bet." + +"You have to buy experience, of course." + +"Yes, but it's all messed-up with doing people in the eye." + +"Of course, or they'll do you--that's the excitement." + +Jolly looked a little scornful. + +"What do you do with yourself? Row?" + +"No--ride, and drive about. I'm going to play polo next term, if I can +get my granddad to stump up." + +"That's old Uncle James, isn't it? What's he like?" + +"Older than forty hills," said Val, "and always thinking he's going to be +ruined." + +"I suppose my granddad and he were brothers." + +"I don't believe any of that old lot were sportsmen," said Val; "they +must have worshipped money." + +"Mine didn't!" said Jolly warmly. + +Val flipped the ash off his cigarette. + +"Money's only fit to spend," he said; "I wish the deuce I had more." + +Jolly gave him that direct upward look of judgment which he had inherited +from old Jolyon: One didn't talk about money! And again there was +silence, while they drank tea and ate the buttered buns. + +"Where are your people going to stay?" asked Val, elaborately casual. + +"'Rainbow.' What do you think of the war?" + +"Rotten, so far. The Boers aren't sports a bit. Why don't they come out +into the open?" + +"Why should they? They've got everything against them except their way +of fighting. I rather admire them." + +"They can ride and shoot," admitted Val, "but they're a lousy lot. Do you +know Crum?" + +"Of Merton? Only by sight. He's in that fast set too, isn't he? Rather +La-di-da and Brummagem." + +Val said fixedly: "He's a friend of mine." + +"Oh! Sorry!" And they sat awkwardly staring past each other, having +pitched on their pet points of snobbery. For Jolly was forming himself +unconsciously on a set whose motto was: + +'We defy you to bore us. Life isn't half long enough, and we're going to +talk faster and more crisply, do more and know more, and dwell less on +any subject than you can possibly imagine. We are "the best"--made of +wire and whipcord.' And Val was unconsciously forming himself on a set +whose motto was: 'We defy you to interest or excite us. We have had +every sensation, or if we haven't, we pretend we have. We are so +exhausted with living that no hours are too small for us. We will lose +our shirts with equanimity. We have flown fast and are past everything. +All is cigarette smoke. Bismillah!' Competitive spirit, bone-deep in the +English, was obliging those two young Forsytes to have ideals; and at the +close of a century ideals are mixed. The aristocracy had already in the +main adopted the 'jumping-Jesus' principle; though here and there one +like Crum--who was an 'honourable'--stood starkly languid for that +gambler's Nirvana which had been the summum bonum of the old 'dandies' +and of 'the mashers' in the eighties. And round Crum were still gathered +a forlorn hope of blue-bloods with a plutocratic following. + +But there was between the cousins another far less obvious +antipathy--coming from the unseizable family resemblance, which each +perhaps resented; or from some half-consciousness of that old feud +persisting still between their branches of the clan, formed within them +by odd words or half-hints dropped by their elders. And Jolly, tinkling +his teaspoon, was musing: 'His tie-pin and his waistcoat and his drawl +and his betting--good Lord!' + +And Val, finishing his bun, was thinking: 'He's rather a young beast!' + +"I suppose you'll be meeting your people?" he said, getting up. "I wish +you'd tell them I should like to show them over B.N.C.--not that there's +anything much there--if they'd care to come." + +"Thanks, I'll ask them." + +"Would they lunch? I've got rather a decent scout." + +Jolly doubted if they would have time. + +"You'll ask them, though?" + +"Very good of you," said Jolly, fully meaning that they should not go; +but, instinctively polite, he added: "You'd better come and have dinner +with us to-morrow." + +"Rather. What time?" + +"Seven-thirty." + +"Dress?" + +"No." And they parted, a subtle antagonism alive within them. + +Holly and her father arrived by a midday train. It was her first visit +to the city of spires and dreams, and she was very silent, looking almost +shyly at the brother who was part of this wonderful place. After lunch +she wandered, examining his household gods with intense curiosity. +Jolly's sitting-room was panelled, and Art represented by a set of +Bartolozzi prints which had belonged to old Jolyon, and by college +photographs--of young men, live young men, a little heroic, and to be +compared with her memories of Val. Jolyon also scrutinised with care +that evidence of his boy's character and tastes. + +Jolly was anxious that they should see him rowing, so they set forth to +the river. Holly, between her brother and her father, felt elated when +heads were turned and eyes rested on her. That they might see him to the +best advantage they left him at the Barge and crossed the river to the +towing-path. Slight in build--for of all the Forsytes only old Swithin +and George were beefy--Jolly was rowing 'Two' in a trial eight. He +looked very earnest and strenuous. With pride Jolyon thought him the +best-looking boy of the lot; Holly, as became a sister, was more struck +by one or two of the others, but would not have said so for the world. +The river was bright that afternoon, the meadows lush, the trees still +beautiful with colour. Distinguished peace clung around the old city; +Jolyon promised himself a day's sketching if the weather held. The Eight +passed a second time, spurting home along the Barges--Jolly's face was +very set, so as not to show that he was blown. They returned across the +river and waited for him. + +"Oh!" said Jolly in the Christ Church meadows, "I had to ask that chap +Val Dartie to dine with us to-night. He wanted to give you lunch and +show you B.N.C., so I thought I'd better; then you needn't go. I don't +like him much." + +Holly's rather sallow face had become suffused with pink. + +"Why not?" + +"Oh! I don't know. He seems to me rather showy and bad form. What are +his people like, Dad? He's only a second cousin, isn't he?" + +Jolyon took refuge in a smile. + +"Ask Holly," he said; "she saw his uncle." + +"I liked Val," Holly answered, staring at the ground before her; "his +uncle looked--awfully different." She stole a glance at Jolly from under +her lashes. + +"Did you ever," said Jolyon with whimsical intention, "hear our family +history, my dears? It's quite a fairy tale. The first Jolyon +Forsyte--at all events the first we know anything of, and that would be +your great-great-grandfather--dwelt in the land of Dorset on the edge of +the sea, being by profession an 'agriculturalist,' as your great-aunt put +it, and the son of an agriculturist--farmers, in fact; your grandfather +used to call them, 'Very small beer.'" He looked at Jolly to see how his +lordliness was standing it, and with the other eye noted Holly's +malicious pleasure in the slight drop of her brother's face. + +"We may suppose him thick and sturdy, standing for England as it was +before the Industrial Era began. The second Jolyon Forsyte--your +great-grandfather, Jolly; better known as Superior Dosset Forsyte--built +houses, so the chronicle runs, begat ten children, and migrated to London +town. It is known that he drank sherry. We may suppose him representing +the England of Napoleon's wars, and general unrest. The eldest of his +six sons was the third Jolyon, your grandfather, my dears--tea merchant +and chairman of companies, one of the soundest Englishmen who ever +lived--and to me the dearest." Jolyon's voice had lost its irony, and +his son and daughter gazed at him solemnly, "He was just and tenacious, +tender and young at heart. You remember him, and I remember him. Pass +to the others! Your great-uncle James, that's young Val's grandfather, +had a son called Soames--whereby hangs a tale of no love lost, and I +don't think I'll tell it you. James and the other eight children of +'Superior Dosset,' of whom there are still five alive, may be said to +have represented Victorian England, with its principles of trade and +individualism at five per cent. and your money back--if you know what +that means. At all events they've turned thirty thousand pounds into a +cool million between them in the course of their long lives. They never +did a wild thing--unless it was your great-uncle Swithin, who I believe +was once swindled at thimble-rig, and was called 'Four-in-hand Forsyte' +because he drove a pair. Their day is passing, and their type, not +altogether for the advantage of the country. They were pedestrian, but +they too were sound. I am the fourth Jolyon Forsyte--a poor holder of +the name--" + +"No, Dad," said Jolly, and Holly squeezed his hand. + +"Yes," repeated Jolyon, "a poor specimen, representing, I'm afraid, +nothing but the end of the century, unearned income, amateurism, and +individual liberty--a different thing from individualism, Jolly. You are +the fifth Jolyon Forsyte, old man, and you open the ball of the new +century." + +As he spoke they turned in through the college gates, and Holly said: +"It's fascinating, Dad." + +None of them quite knew what she meant. Jolly was grave. + +The Rainbow, distinguished, as only an Oxford hostel can be, for lack of +modernity, provided one small oak-panelled private sitting-room, in which +Holly sat to receive, white-frocked, shy, and alone, when the only guest +arrived. Rather as one would touch a moth, Val took her hand. And +wouldn't she wear this 'measly flower'? It would look ripping in her +hair. He removed a gardenia from his coat. + +"Oh! No, thank you--I couldn't!" But she took it and pinned it at her +neck, having suddenly remembered that word 'showy'! Val's buttonhole +would give offence; and she so much wanted Jolly to like him. Did she +realise that Val was at his best and quietest in her presence, and was +that, perhaps, half the secret of his attraction for her? + +"I never said anything about our ride, Val." + +"Rather not! It's just between us." + +By the uneasiness of his hands and the fidgeting of his feet he was +giving her a sense of power very delicious; a soft feeling too--the wish +to make him happy. + +"Do tell me about Oxford. It must be ever so lovely." + +Val admitted that it was frightfully decent to do what you liked; the +lectures were nothing; and there were some very good chaps. "Only," he +added, "of course I wish I was in town, and could come down and see you." + +Holly moved one hand shyly on her knee, and her glance dropped. + +"You haven't forgotten," he said, suddenly gathering courage, "that we're +going mad-rabbiting together?" + +Holly smiled. + +"Oh! That was only make-believe. One can't do that sort of thing after +one's grown up, you know." + +"Dash it! cousins can," said Val. "Next Long Vac.--it begins in June, +you know, and goes on for ever--we'll watch our chance." + +But, though the thrill of conspiracy ran through her veins, Holly shook +her head. "It won't come off," she murmured. + +"Won't it!" said Val fervently; "who's going to stop it? Not your father +or your brother." + +At this moment Jolyon and Jolly came in; and romance fled into Val's +patent leather and Holly's white satin toes, where it itched and tingled +during an evening not conspicuous for open-heartedness. + +Sensitive to atmosphere, Jolyon soon felt the latent antagonism between +the boys, and was puzzled by Holly; so he became unconsciously ironical, +which is fatal to the expansiveness of youth. A letter, handed to him +after dinner, reduced him to a silence hardly broken till Jolly and Val +rose to go. He went out with them, smoking his cigar, and walked with +his son to the gates of Christ Church. Turning back, he took out the +letter and read it again beneath a lamp. + +"DEAR JOLYON, + +"Soames came again to-night--my thirty-seventh birthday. You were right, +I mustn't stay here. I'm going to-morrow to the Piedmont Hotel, but I +won't go abroad without seeing you. I feel lonely and down-hearted. + +"Yours affectionately, +"IRENE." + +He folded the letter back into his pocket and walked on, astonished at +the violence of his feelings. What had the fellow said or done? + +He turned into High Street, down the Turf, and on among a maze of spires +and domes and long college fronts and walls, bright or dark-shadowed in +the strong moonlight. In this very heart of England's gentility it was +difficult to realise that a lonely woman could be importuned or hunted, +but what else could her letter mean? Soames must have been pressing her +to go back to him again, with public opinion and the Law on his side, +too! 'Eighteen-ninety-nine!,' he thought, gazing at the broken glass +shining on the top of a villa garden wall; 'but when it comes to property +we're still a heathen people! I'll go up to-morrow morning. I dare say +it'll be best for her to go abroad.' Yet the thought displeased him. Why +should Soames hunt her out of England! Besides, he might follow, and out +there she would be still more helpless against the attentions of her own +husband! 'I must tread warily,' he thought; 'that fellow could make +himself very nasty. I didn't like his manner in the cab the other +night.' His thoughts turned to his daughter June. Could she help? Once +on a time Irene had been her greatest friend, and now she was a 'lame +duck,' such as must appeal to June's nature! He determined to wire to +his daughter to meet him at Paddington Station. Retracing his steps +towards the Rainbow he questioned his own sensations. Would he be +upsetting himself over every woman in like case? No! he would not. The +candour of this conclusion discomfited him; and, finding that Holly had +gone up to bed, he sought his own room. But he could not sleep, and sat +for a long time at his window, huddled in an overcoat, watching the +moonlight on the roofs. + +Next door Holly too was awake, thinking of the lashes above and below +Val's eyes, especially below; and of what she could do to make Jolly like +him better. The scent of the gardenia was strong in her little bedroom, +and pleasant to her. + +And Val, leaning out of his first-floor window in B.N.C., was gazing at a +moonlit quadrangle without seeing it at all, seeing instead Holly, slim +and white-frocked, as she sat beside the fire when he first went in. + +But Jolly, in his bedroom narrow as a ghost, lay with a hand beneath his +cheek and dreamed he was with Val in one boat, rowing a race against him, +while his father was calling from the towpath: 'Two! Get your hands away +there, bless you!' + + + + +CHAPTER II + +SOAMES PUTS IT TO THE TOUCH + +Of all those radiant firms which emblazon with their windows the West End +of London, Gaves and Cortegal were considered by Soames the most +'attractive' word just coming into fashion. He had never had his Uncle +Swithin's taste in precious stones, and the abandonment by Irene when she +left his house in 1887 of all the glittering things he had given her had +disgusted him with this form of investment. But he still knew a diamond +when he saw one, and during the week before her birthday he had taken +occasion, on his way into the Poultry or his way out therefrom, to dally +a little before the greater jewellers where one got, if not one's money's +worth, at least a certain cachet with the goods. + +Constant cogitation since his drive with Jolyon had convinced him more +and more of the supreme importance of this moment in his life, the +supreme need for taking steps and those not wrong. And, alongside the +dry and reasoned sense that it was now or never with his +self-preservation, now or never if he were to range himself and found a +family, went the secret urge of his senses roused by the sight of her who +had once been a passionately desired wife, and the conviction that it was +a sin against common sense and the decent secrecy of Forsytes to waste +the wife he had. + +In an opinion on Winifred's case, Dreamer, Q.C.--he would much have +preferred Waterbuck, but they had made him a judge (so late in the day as +to rouse the usual suspicion of a political job)--had advised that they +should go forward and obtain restitution of conjugal rights, a point +which to Soames had never been in doubt. When they had obtained a decree +to that effect they must wait to see if it was obeyed. If not, it would +constitute legal desertion, and they should obtain evidence of misconduct +and file their petition for divorce. All of which Soames knew perfectly +well. They had marked him ten and one. This simplicity in his sister's +case only made him the more desperate about the difficulty in his own. +Everything, in fact, was driving him towards the simple solution of +Irene's return. If it were still against the grain with her, had he not +feelings to subdue, injury to forgive, pain to forget? He at least had +never injured her, and this was a world of compromise! He could offer +her so much more than she had now. He would be prepared to make a +liberal settlement on her which could not be upset. He often scrutinised +his image in these days. He had never been a peacock like that fellow +Dartie, or fancied himself a woman's man, but he had a certain belief in +his own appearance--not unjustly, for it was well-coupled and preserved, +neat, healthy, pale, unblemished by drink or excess of any kind. The +Forsyte jaw and the concentration of his face were, in his eyes, virtues. +So far as he could tell there was no feature of him which need inspire +dislike. + +Thoughts and yearnings, with which one lives daily, become natural, even +if far-fetched in their inception. If he could only give tangible proof +enough of his determination to let bygones be bygones, and to do all in +his power to please her, why should she not come back to him? + +He entered Gaves and Cortegal's therefore, on the morning of November the +9th, to buy a certain diamond brooch. "Four twenty-five and dirt cheap, +sir, at the money. It's a lady's brooch." There was that in his mood +which made him accept without demur. And he went on into the Poultry +with the flat green morocco case in his breast pocket. Several times +that day he opened it to look at the seven soft shining stones in their +velvet oval nest. + +"If the lady doesn't like it, sir, happy to exchange it any time. But +there's no fear of that." If only there were not! He got through a vast +amount of work, only soother of the nerves he knew. A cablegram came +while he was in the office with details from the agent in Buenos Aires, +and the name and address of a stewardess who would be prepared to swear +to what was necessary. It was a timely spur to Soames, with his rooted +distaste for the washing of dirty linen in public. And when he set forth +by Underground to Victoria Station he received a fresh impetus towards +the renewal of his married life from the account in his evening paper of +a fashionable divorce suit. The homing instinct of all true Forsytes in +anxiety and trouble, the corporate tendency which kept them strong and +solid, made him choose to dine at Park Lane. He neither could nor would +breath a word to his people of his intention--too reticent and proud--but +the thought that at least they would be glad if they knew, and wish him +luck, was heartening. + +James was in lugubrious mood, for the fire which the impudence of +Kruger's ultimatum had lit in him had been cold-watered by the poor +success of the last month, and the exhortations to effort in The Times. +He didn't know where it would end. Soames sought to cheer him by the +continual use of the word Buller. But James couldn't tell! There was +Colley--and he got stuck on that hill, and this Ladysmith was down in a +hollow, and altogether it looked to him a 'pretty kettle of fish'; he +thought they ought to be sending the sailors--they were the chaps, they +did a lot of good in the Crimea. Soames shifted the ground of +consolation. Winifred had heard from Val that there had been a 'rag' and +a bonfire on Guy Fawkes Day at Oxford, and that he had escaped detection +by blacking his face. + +"Ah!" James muttered, "he's a clever little chap." But he shook his head +shortly afterwards and remarked that he didn't know what would become of +him, and looking wistfully at his son, murmured on that Soames had never +had a boy. He would have liked a grandson of his own name. And +now--well, there it was! + +Soames flinched. He had not expected such a challenge to disclose the +secret in his heart. And Emily, who saw him wince, said: + +"Nonsense, James; don't talk like that!" + +But James, not looking anyone in the face, muttered on. There were Roger +and Nicholas and Jolyon; they all had grandsons. And Swithin and Timothy +had never married. He had done his best; but he would soon be gone now. +And, as though he had uttered words of profound consolation, he was +silent, eating brains with a fork and a piece of bread, and swallowing +the bread. + +Soames excused himself directly after dinner. It was not really cold, +but he put on his fur coat, which served to fortify him against the fits +of nervous shivering to which he had been subject all day. +Subconsciously, he knew that he looked better thus than in an ordinary +black overcoat. Then, feeling the morocco case flat against his heart, +he sallied forth. He was no smoker, but he lit a cigarette, and smoked +it gingerly as he walked along. He moved slowly down the Row towards +Knightsbridge, timing himself to get to Chelsea at nine-fifteen. What +did she do with herself evening after evening in that little hole? How +mysterious women were! One lived alongside and knew nothing of them. +What could she have seen in that fellow Bosinney to send her mad? For +there was madness after all in what she had done--crazy moonstruck +madness, in which all sense of values had been lost, and her life and his +life ruined! And for a moment he was filled with a sort of exaltation, +as though he were a man read of in a story who, possessed by the +Christian spirit, would restore to her all the prizes of existence, +forgiving and forgetting, and becoming the godfather of her future. +Under a tree opposite Knightsbridge Barracks, where the moon-light struck +down clear and white, he took out once more the morocco case, and let the +beams draw colour from those stones. Yes, they were of the first water! +But, at the hard closing snap of the case, another cold shiver ran +through his nerves; and he walked on faster, clenching his gloved hands +in the pockets of his coat, almost hoping she would not be in. The +thought of how mysterious she was again beset him. Dining alone there +night after night--in an evening dress, too, as if she were making +believe to be in society! Playing the piano--to herself! Not even a dog +or cat, so far as he had seen. And that reminded him suddenly of the +mare he kept for station work at Mapledurham. If ever he went to the +stable, there she was quite alone, half asleep, and yet, on her home +journeys going more freely than on her way out, as if longing to be back +and lonely in her stable! 'I would treat her well,' he thought +incoherently. 'I would be very careful.' And all that capacity for home +life of which a mocking Fate seemed for ever to have deprived him swelled +suddenly in Soames, so that he dreamed dreams opposite South Kensington +Station. In the King's Road a man came slithering out of a public house +playing a concertina. Soames watched him for a moment dance crazily on +the pavement to his own drawling jagged sounds, then crossed over to +avoid contact with this piece of drunken foolery. A night in the +lock-up! What asses people were! But the man had noticed his movement +of avoidance, and streams of genial blasphemy followed him across the +street. 'I hope they'll run him in,' thought Soames viciously. 'To have +ruffians like that about, with women out alone!' A woman's figure in +front had induced this thought. Her walk seemed oddly familiar, and when +she turned the corner for which he was bound, his heart began to beat. +He hastened on to the corner to make certain. Yes! It was Irene; he +could not mistake her walk in that little drab street. She threaded two +more turnings, and from the last corner he saw her enter her block of +flats. To make sure of her now, he ran those few paces, hurried up the +stairs, and caught her standing at her door. He heard the latchkey in +the lock, and reached her side just as she turned round, startled, in the +open doorway. + +"Don't be alarmed," he said, breathless. "I happened to see you. Let me +come in a minute." + +She had put her hand up to her breast, her face was colourless, her eyes +widened by alarm. Then seeming to master herself, she inclined her head, +and said: "Very well." + +Soames closed the door. He, too, had need to recover, and when she had +passed into the sitting-room, waited a full minute, taking deep breaths +to still the beating of his heart. At this moment, so fraught with the +future, to take out that morocco case seemed crude. Yet, not to take it +out left him there before her with no preliminary excuse for coming. And +in this dilemma he was seized with impatience at all this paraphernalia +of excuse and justification. This was a scene--it could be nothing else, +and he must face it. He heard her voice, uncomfortably, pathetically +soft: + +"Why have you come again? Didn't you understand that I would rather you +did not?" + +He noticed her clothes--a dark brown velvet corduroy, a sable boa, a +small round toque of the same. They suited her admirably. She had money +to spare for dress, evidently! He said abruptly: + +"It's your birthday. I brought you this," and he held out to her the +green morocco case. + +"Oh! No-no!" + +Soames pressed the clasp; the seven stones gleamed out on the pale grey +velvet. + +"Why not?" he said. "Just as a sign that you don't bear me ill-feeling +any longer." + +"I couldn't." + +Soames took it out of the case. + +"Let me just see how it looks." + +She shrank back. + +He followed, thrusting his hand with the brooch in it against the front +of her dress. She shrank again. + +Soames dropped his hand. + +"Irene," he said, "let bygones be bygones. If I can, surely you might. +Let's begin again, as if nothing had been. Won't you?" His voice was +wistful, and his eyes, resting on her face, had in them a sort of +supplication. + +She, who was standing literally with her back against the wall, gave a +little gulp, and that was all her answer. Soames went on: + +"Can you really want to live all your days half-dead in this little hole? +Come back to me, and I'll give you all you want. You shall live your own +life; I swear it." + +He saw her face quiver ironically. + +"Yes," he repeated, "but I mean it this time. I'll only ask one thing. +I just want--I just want a son. Don't look like that! I want one. It's +hard." His voice had grown hurried, so that he hardly knew it for his +own, and twice he jerked his head back as if struggling for breath. It +was the sight of her eyes fixed on him, dark with a sort of fascinated +fright, which pulled him together and changed that painful incoherence to +anger. + +"Is it so very unnatural?" he said between his teeth, "Is it unnatural to +want a child from one's own wife? You wrecked our life and put this +blight on everything. We go on only half alive, and without any future. +Is it so very unflattering to you that in spite of everything I--I still +want you for my wife? Speak, for Goodness' sake! do speak." + +Irene seemed to try, but did not succeed. + +"I don't want to frighten you," said Soames more gently. "Heaven knows. +I only want you to see that I can't go on like this. I want you back. I +want you." + +Irene raised one hand and covered the lower part of her face, but her +eyes never moved from his, as though she trusted in them to keep him at +bay. And all those years, barren and bitter, since--ah! when?--almost +since he had first known her, surged up in one great wave of recollection +in Soames; and a spasm that for his life he could not control constricted +his face. + +"It's not too late," he said; "it's not--if you'll only believe it." + +Irene uncovered her lips, and both her hands made a writhing gesture in +front of her breast. Soames seized them. + +"Don't!" she said under her breath. But he stood holding on to them, +trying to stare into her eyes which did not waver. Then she said +quietly: + +"I am alone here. You won't behave again as you once behaved." + +Dropping her hands as though they had been hot irons, he turned away. +Was it possible that there could be such relentless unforgiveness! Could +that one act of violent possession be still alive within her? Did it bar +him thus utterly? And doggedly he said, without looking up: + +"I am not going till you've answered me. I am offering what few men +would bring themselves to offer, I want a--a reasonable answer." + +And almost with surprise he heard her say: + +"You can't have a reasonable answer. Reason has nothing to do with it. +You can only have the brutal truth: I would rather die." + +Soames stared at her. + +"Oh!" he said. And there intervened in him a sort of paralysis of speech +and movement, the kind of quivering which comes when a man has received a +deadly insult, and does not yet know how he is going to take it, or +rather what it is going to do with him. + +"Oh!" he said again, "as bad as that? Indeed! You would rather die. +That's pretty!" + +"I am sorry. You wanted me to answer. I can't help the truth, can I?" + +At that queer spiritual appeal Soames turned for relief to actuality. He +snapped the brooch back into its case and put it in his pocket. + +"The truth!" he said; "there's no such thing with women. It's +nerves-nerves." + +He heard the whisper: + +"Yes; nerves don't lie. Haven't you discovered that?" He was silent, +obsessed by the thought: 'I will hate this woman. I will hate her.' +That was the trouble! If only he could! He shot a glance at her who +stood unmoving against the wall with her head up and her hands clasped, +for all the world as if she were going to be shot. And he said quickly: + +"I don't believe a word of it. You have a lover. If you hadn't, you +wouldn't be such a--such a little idiot." He was conscious, before the +expression in her eyes, that he had uttered something of a non-sequitur, +and dropped back too abruptly into the verbal freedom of his connubial +days. He turned away to the door. But he could not go out. Something +within him--that most deep and secret Forsyte quality, the impossibility +of letting go, the impossibility of seeing the fantastic and forlorn +nature of his own tenacity--prevented him. He turned about again, and +there stood, with his back against the door, as hers was against the wall +opposite, quite unconscious of anything ridiculous in this separation by +the whole width of the room. + +"Do you ever think of anybody but yourself?" he said. + +Irene's lips quivered; then she answered slowly: + +"Do you ever think that I found out my mistake--my hopeless, terrible +mistake--the very first week of our marriage; that I went on trying three +years--you know I went on trying? Was it for myself?" + +Soames gritted his teeth. "God knows what it was. I've never understood +you; I shall never understand you. You had everything you wanted; and +you can have it again, and more. What's the matter with me? I ask you a +plain question: What is it?" Unconscious of the pathos in that enquiry, +he went on passionately: "I'm not lame, I'm not loathsome, I'm not a +boor, I'm not a fool. What is it? What's the mystery about me?" + +Her answer was a long sigh. + +He clasped his hands with a gesture that for him was strangely full of +expression. "When I came here to-night I was--I hoped--I meant +everything that I could to do away with the past, and start fair again. +And you meet me with 'nerves,' and silence, and sighs. There's nothing +tangible. It's like--it's like a spider's web." + +"Yes." + +That whisper from across the room maddened Soames afresh. + +"Well, I don't choose to be in a spider's web. I'll cut it." He walked +straight up to her. "Now!" What he had gone up to her to do he really +did not know. But when he was close, the old familiar scent of her +clothes suddenly affected him. He put his hands on her shoulders and +bent forward to kiss her. He kissed not her lips, but a little hard line +where the lips had been drawn in; then his face was pressed away by her +hands; he heard her say: "Oh! No!" Shame, compunction, sense of futility +flooded his whole being, he turned on his heel and went straight out. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +VISIT TO IRENE + +Jolyon found June waiting on the platform at Paddington. She had +received his telegram while at breakfast. Her abode--a studio and two +bedrooms in a St. John's Wood garden--had been selected by her for the +complete independence which it guaranteed. Unwatched by Mrs. Grundy, +unhindered by permanent domestics, she could receive lame ducks at any +hour of day or night, and not seldom had a duck without studio of its own +made use of June's. She enjoyed her freedom, and possessed herself with +a sort of virginal passion; the warmth which she would have lavished on +Bosinney, and of which--given her Forsyte tenacity--he must surely have +tired, she now expended in championship of the underdogs and budding +'geniuses' of the artistic world. She lived, in fact, to turn ducks into +the swans she believed they were. The very fervour of her protection +warped her judgments. But she was loyal and liberal; her small eager +hand was ever against the oppressions of academic and commercial opinion, +and though her income was considerable, her bank balance was often a +minus quantity. + +She had come to Paddington Station heated in her soul by a visit to Eric +Cobbley. A miserable Gallery had refused to let that straight-haired +genius have his one-man show after all. Its impudent manager, after +visiting his studio, had expressed the opinion that it would only be a +'one-horse show from the selling point of view.' This crowning example +of commercial cowardice towards her favourite lame duck--and he so hard +up, with a wife and two children, that he had caused her account to be +overdrawn--was still making the blood glow in her small, resolute face, +and her red-gold hair to shine more than ever. She gave her father a +hug, and got into a cab with him, having as many fish to fry with him as +he with her. It became at once a question which would fry them first. + +Jolyon had reached the words: "My dear, I want you to come with me," +when, glancing at her face, he perceived by her blue eyes moving from +side to side--like the tail of a preoccupied cat--that she was not +attending. "Dad, is it true that I absolutely can't get at any of my +money?" + +"Only the income, fortunately, my love." + +"How perfectly beastly! Can't it be done somehow? There must be a way. +I know I could buy a small Gallery for ten thousand pounds." + +"A small Gallery," murmured Jolyon, "seems a modest desire. But your +grandfather foresaw it." + +"I think," cried June vigorously, "that all this care about money is +awful, when there's so much genius in the world simply crushed out for +want of a little. I shall never marry and have children; why shouldn't I +be able to do some good instead of having it all tied up in case of +things which will never come off?" + +"Our name is Forsyte, my dear," replied Jolyon in the ironical voice to +which his impetuous daughter had never quite grown accustomed; "and +Forsytes, you know, are people who so settle their property that their +grandchildren, in case they should die before their parents, have to make +wills leaving the property that will only come to themselves when their +parents die. Do you follow that? Nor do I, but it's a fact, anyway; we +live by the principle that so long as there is a possibility of keeping +wealth in the family it must not go out; if you die unmarried, your money +goes to Jolly and Holly and their children if they marry. Isn't it +pleasant to know that whatever you do you can none of you be destitute?" + +"But can't I borrow the money?" + +Jolyon shook his head. "You could rent a Gallery, no doubt, if you could +manage it out of your income." + +June uttered a contemptuous sound. + +"Yes; and have no income left to help anybody with." + +"My dear child," murmured Jolyon, "wouldn't it come to the same thing?" + +"No," said June shrewdly, "I could buy for ten thousand; that would only +be four hundred a year. But I should have to pay a thousand a year rent, +and that would only leave me five hundred. If I had the Gallery, Dad, +think what I could do. I could make Eric Cobbley's name in no time, and +ever so many others." + +"Names worth making make themselves in time." + +"When they're dead." + +"Did you ever know anybody living, my dear, improved by having his name +made?" + +"Yes, you," said June, pressing his arm. + +Jolyon started. 'I?' he thought. 'Oh! Ah! Now she's going to ask me +to do something. We take it out, we Forsytes, each in our different +ways.' + +June came closer to him in the cab. + +"Darling," she said, "you buy the Gallery, and I'll pay you four hundred +a year for it. Then neither of us will be any the worse off. Besides, +it's a splendid investment." + +Jolyon wriggled. "Don't you think," he said, "that for an artist to buy +a Gallery is a bit dubious? Besides, ten thousand pounds is a lump, and +I'm not a commercial character." + +June looked at him with admiring appraisement. + +"Of course you're not, but you're awfully businesslike. And I'm sure we +could make it pay. It'll be a perfect way of scoring off those wretched +dealers and people." And again she squeezed her father's arm. + +Jolyon's face expressed quizzical despair. + +"Where is this desirable Gallery? Splendidly situated, I suppose?" + +"Just off Cork Street." + +'Ah!' thought Jolyon, 'I knew it was just off somewhere. Now for what I +want out of her!' + +"Well, I'll think of it, but not just now. You remember Irene? I want +you to come with me and see her. Soames is after her again. She might be +safer if we could give her asylum somewhere." + +The word asylum, which he had used by chance, was of all most calculated +to rouse June's interest. + +"Irene! I haven't seen her since! Of course! I'd love to help her." + +It was Jolyon's turn to squeeze her arm, in warm admiration for this +spirited, generous-hearted little creature of his begetting. + +"Irene is proud," he said, with a sidelong glance, in sudden doubt of +June's discretion; "she's difficult to help. We must tread gently. This +is the place. I wired her to expect us. Let's send up our cards." + +"I can't bear Soames," said June as she got out; "he sneers at everything +that isn't successful" + +Irene was in what was called the 'Ladies' drawing-room' of the Piedmont +Hotel. + +Nothing if not morally courageous, June walked straight up to her former +friend, kissed her cheek, and the two settled down on a sofa never sat on +since the hotel's foundation. Jolyon could see that Irene was deeply +affected by this simple forgiveness. + +"So Soames has been worrying you?" he said. + +"I had a visit from him last night; he wants me to go back to him." + +"You're not going, of course?" cried June. + +Irene smiled faintly and shook her head. "But his position is horrible," +she murmured. + +"It's his own fault; he ought to have divorced you when he could." + +Jolyon remembered how fervently in the old days June had hoped that no +divorce would smirch her dead and faithless lover's name. + +"Let us hear what Irene is going to do," he said. + +Irene's lips quivered, but she spoke calmly. + +"I'd better give him fresh excuse to get rid of me." + +"How horrible!" cried June. + +"What else can I do?" + +"Out of the question," said Jolyon very quietly, "sans amour." + +He thought she was going to cry; but, getting up quickly, she half turned +her back on them, and stood regaining control of herself. + +June said suddenly: + +"Well, I shall go to Soames and tell him he must leave you alone. What +does he want at his age?" + +"A child. It's not unnatural" + +"A child!" cried June scornfully. "Of course! To leave his money to. +If he wants one badly enough let him take somebody and have one; then you +can divorce him, and he can marry her." + +Jolyon perceived suddenly that he had made a mistake to bring June--her +violent partizanship was fighting Soames' battle. + +"It would be best for Irene to come quietly to us at Robin Hill, and see +how things shape." + +"Of course," said June; "only...." + +Irene looked full at Jolyon--in all his many attempts afterwards to +analyze that glance he never could succeed. + +"No! I should only bring trouble on you all. I will go abroad." + +He knew from her voice that this was final. The irrelevant thought +flashed through him: 'Well, I could see her there.' But he said: + +"Don't you think you would be more helpless abroad, in case he followed?" + +"I don't know. I can but try." + +June sprang up and paced the room. "It's all horrible," she said. "Why +should people be tortured and kept miserable and helpless year after year +by this disgusting sanctimonious law?" But someone had come into the +room, and June came to a standstill. Jolyon went up to Irene: + +"Do you want money?" + +"No." + +"And would you like me to let your flat?" + +"Yes, Jolyon, please." + +"When shall you be going?" + +"To-morrow." + +"You won't go back there in the meantime, will you?" This he said with +an anxiety strange to himself. + +"No; I've got all I want here." + +"You'll send me your address?" + +She put out her hand to him. "I feel you're a rock." + +"Built on sand," answered Jolyon, pressing her hand hard; "but it's a +pleasure to do anything, at any time, remember that. And if you change +your mind....! Come along, June; say good-bye." + +June came from the window and flung her arms round Irene. + +"Don't think of him," she said under her breath; "enjoy yourself, and +bless you!" + +With a memory of tears in Irene's eyes, and of a smile on her lips, they +went away extremely silent, passing the lady who had interrupted the +interview and was turning over the papers on the table. + +Opposite the National Gallery June exclaimed: + +"Of all undignified beasts and horrible laws!" + +But Jolyon did not respond. He had something of his father's balance, +and could see things impartially even when his emotions were roused. +Irene was right; Soames' position was as bad or worse than her own. As +for the law--it catered for a human nature of which it took a naturally +low view. And, feeling that if he stayed in his daughter's company he +would in one way or another commit an indiscretion, he told her he must +catch his train back to Oxford; and hailing a cab, left her to Turner's +water-colours, with the promise that he would think over that Gallery. + +But he thought over Irene instead. Pity, they said, was akin to love! +If so he was certainly in danger of loving her, for he pitied her +profoundly. To think of her drifting about Europe so handicapped and +lonely! 'I hope to goodness she'll keep her head!' he thought; 'she +might easily grow desperate.' In fact, now that she had cut loose from +her poor threads of occupation, he couldn't imagine how she would go +on--so beautiful a creature, hopeless, and fair game for anyone! In his +exasperation was more than a little fear and jealousy. Women did strange +things when they were driven into corners. 'I wonder what Soames will do +now!' he thought. 'A rotten, idiotic state of things! And I suppose +they would say it was her own fault.' Very preoccupied and sore at +heart, he got into his train, mislaid his ticket, and on the platform at +Oxford took his hat off to a lady whose face he seemed to remember +without being able to put a name to her, not even when he saw her having +tea at the Rainbow. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +WHERE FORSYTES FEAR TO TREAD + +Quivering from the defeat of his hopes, with the green morocco case still +flat against his heart, Soames revolved thoughts bitter as death. A +spider's web! Walking fast, and noting nothing in the moonlight, he +brooded over the scene he had been through, over the memory of her figure +rigid in his grasp. And the more he brooded, the more certain he became +that she had a lover--her words, 'I would sooner die!' were ridiculous if +she had not. Even if she had never loved him, she had made no fuss until +Bosinney came on the scene. No; she was in love again, or she would not +have made that melodramatic answer to his proposal, which in all the +circumstances was reasonable! Very well! That simplified matters. + +'I'll take steps to know where I am,' he thought; 'I'll go to Polteed's +the first thing tomorrow morning.' + +But even in forming that resolution he knew he would have trouble with +himself. He had employed Polteed's agency several times in the routine +of his profession, even quite lately over Dartie's case, but he had never +thought it possible to employ them to watch his own wife. + +It was too insulting to himself! + +He slept over that project and his wounded pride--or rather, kept vigil. +Only while shaving did he suddenly remember that she called herself by +her maiden name of Heron. Polteed would not know, at first at all +events, whose wife she was, would not look at him obsequiously and leer +behind his back. She would just be the wife of one of his clients. And +that would be true--for was he not his own solicitor? + +He was literally afraid not to put his design into execution at the first +possible moment, lest, after all, he might fail himself. And making +Warmson bring him an early cup of coffee; he stole out of the house +before the hour of breakfast. He walked rapidly to one of those small +West End streets where Polteed's and other firms ministered to the +virtues of the wealthier classes. Hitherto he had always had Polteed to +see him in the Poultry; but he well knew their address, and reached it at +the opening hour. In the outer office, a room furnished so cosily that +it might have been a money-lender's, he was attended by a lady who might +have been a schoolmistress. + +"I wish to see Mr. Claud Polteed. He knows me--never mind my name." + +To keep everybody from knowing that he, Soames Forsyte, was reduced to +having his wife spied on, was the overpowering consideration. + +Mr. Claud Polteed--so different from Mr. Lewis Polteed--was one of those +men with dark hair, slightly curved noses, and quick brown eyes, who +might be taken for Jews but are really Phoenicians; he received Soames in +a room hushed by thickness of carpet and curtains. It was, in fact, +confidentially furnished, without trace of document anywhere to be seen. + +Greeting Soames deferentially, he turned the key in the only door with a +certain ostentation. + +"If a client sends for me," he was in the habit of saying, "he takes what +precaution he likes. If he comes here, we convince him that we have no +leakages. I may safely say we lead in security, if in nothing +else....Now, sir, what can I do for you?" + +Soames' gorge had risen so that he could hardly speak. It was absolutely +necessary to hide from this man that he had any but professional interest +in the matter; and, mechanically, his face assumed its sideway smile. + +"I've come to you early like this because there's not an hour to +lose"--if he lost an hour he might fail himself yet! "Have you a really +trustworthy woman free?" + +Mr. Polteed unlocked a drawer, produced a memorandum, ran his eyes over +it, and locked the drawer up again. + +"Yes," he said; "the very woman." + +Soames had seated himself and crossed his legs--nothing but a faint +flush, which might have been his normal complexion, betrayed him. + +"Send her off at once, then, to watch a Mrs. Irene Heron of Flat C, Truro +Mansions, Chelsea, till further notice." + +"Precisely," said Mr. Polteed; "divorce, I presume?" and he blew into a +speaking-tube. "Mrs. Blanch in? I shall want to speak to her in ten +minutes." + +"Deal with any reports yourself," resumed Soames, "and send them to me +personally, marked confidential, sealed and registered. My client exacts +the utmost secrecy." + +Mr. Polteed smiled, as though saying, 'You are teaching your grandmother, +my dear sir;' and his eyes slid over Soames' face for one unprofessional +instant. + +"Make his mind perfectly easy," he said. "Do you smoke?" + +"No," said Soames. "Understand me: Nothing may come of this. If a name +gets out, or the watching is suspected, it may have very serious +consequences." + +Mr. Polteed nodded. "I can put it into the cipher category. Under that +system a name is never mentioned; we work by numbers." + +He unlocked another drawer and took out two slips of paper, wrote on +them, and handed one to Soames. + +"Keep that, sir; it's your key. I retain this duplicate. The case we'll +call 7x. The party watched will be 17; the watcher 19; the Mansions 25; +yourself--I should say, your firm--31; my firm 32, myself 2. In case you +should have to mention your client in writing I have called him 43; any +person we suspect will be 47; a second person 51. Any special hint or +instruction while we're about it?" + +"No," said Soames; "that is--every consideration compatible." + +Again Mr. Polteed nodded. "Expense?" + +Soames shrugged. "In reason," he answered curtly, and got up. "Keep it +entirely in your own hands." + +"Entirely," said Mr. Polteed, appearing suddenly between him and the +door. "I shall be seeing you in that other case before long. Good +morning, sir." His eyes slid unprofessionally over Soames once more, and +he unlocked the door. + +"Good morning," said Soames, looking neither to right nor left. + +Out in the street he swore deeply, quietly, to himself. A spider's web, +and to cut it he must use this spidery, secret, unclean method, so +utterly repugnant to one who regarded his private life as his most sacred +piece of property. But the die was cast, he could not go back. And he +went on into the Poultry, and locked away the green morocco case and the +key to that cipher destined to make crystal-clear his domestic +bankruptcy. + +Odd that one whose life was spent in bringing to the public eye all the +private coils of property, the domestic disagreements of others, should +dread so utterly the public eye turned on his own; and yet not odd, for +who should know so well as he the whole unfeeling process of legal +regulation. + +He worked hard all day. Winifred was due at four o'clock; he was to take +her down to a conference in the Temple with Dreamer Q.C., and waiting for +her he re-read the letter he had caused her to write the day of Dartie's +departure, requiring him to return. + +"DEAR MONTAGUE, + +"I have received your letter with the news that you have left me for ever +and are on your way to Buenos Aires. It has naturally been a great +shock. I am taking this earliest opportunity of writing to tell you that +I am prepared to let bygones be bygones if you will return to me at once. +I beg you to do so. I am very much upset, and will not say any more now. +I am sending this letter registered to the address you left at your Club. +Please cable to me. + +"Your still affectionate wife, +"WINIFRED DARTIE." + +Ugh! What bitter humbug! He remembered leaning over Winifred while she +copied what he had pencilled, and how she had said, laying down her pen, +"Suppose he comes, Soames!" in such a strange tone of voice, as if she +did not know her own mind. "He won't come," he had answered, "till he's +spent his money. That's why we must act at once." Annexed to the copy +of that letter was the original of Dartie's drunken scrawl from the +Iseeum Club. Soames could have wished it had not been so manifestly +penned in liquor. Just the sort of thing the Court would pitch on. He +seemed to hear the Judge's voice say: "You took this seriously! +Seriously enough to write him as you did? Do you think he meant it?" +Never mind! The fact was clear that Dartie had sailed and had not +returned. Annexed also was his cabled answer: "Impossible return. +Dartie." Soames shook his head. If the whole thing were not disposed of +within the next few months the fellow would turn up again like a bad +penny. It saved a thousand a year at least to get rid of him, besides +all the worry to Winifred and his father. 'I must stiffen Dreamer's +back,' he thought; 'we must push it on.' + +Winifred, who had adopted a kind of half-mourning which became her fair +hair and tall figure very well, arrived in James' barouche drawn by +James' pair. Soames had not seen it in the City since his father retired +from business five years ago, and its incongruity gave him a shock. +'Times are changing,' he thought; 'one doesn't know what'll go next!' +Top hats even were scarcer. He enquired after Val. Val, said Winifred, +wrote that he was going to play polo next term. She thought he was in a +very good set. She added with fashionably disguised anxiety: "Will there +be much publicity about my affair, Soames? Must it be in the papers? +It's so bad for him, and the girls." + +With his own calamity all raw within him, Soames answered: + +"The papers are a pushing lot; it's very difficult to keep things out. +They pretend to be guarding the public's morals, and they corrupt them +with their beastly reports. But we haven't got to that yet. We're only +seeing Dreamer to-day on the restitution question. Of course he +understands that it's to lead to a divorce; but you must seem genuinely +anxious to get Dartie back--you might practice that attitude to-day." + +Winifred sighed. + +"Oh! What a clown Monty's been!" she said. + +Soames gave her a sharp look. It was clear to him that she could not +take her Dartie seriously, and would go back on the whole thing if given +half a chance. His own instinct had been firm in this matter from the +first. To save a little scandal now would only bring on his sister and +her children real disgrace and perhaps ruin later on if Dartie were +allowed to hang on to them, going down-hill and spending the money James +would leave his daughter. Though it was all tied up, that fellow would +milk the settlements somehow, and make his family pay through the nose to +keep him out of bankruptcy or even perhaps gaol! They left the shining +carriage, with the shining horses and the shining-hatted servants on the +Embankment, and walked up to Dreamer Q.C.'s Chambers in Crown Office Row. + +"Mr. Bellby is here, sir," said the clerk; "Mr. Dreamer will be ten +minutes." + +Mr. Bellby, the junior--not as junior as he might have been, for Soames +only employed barristers of established reputation; it was, indeed, +something of a mystery to him how barristers ever managed to establish +that which made him employ them--Mr. Bellby was seated, taking a final +glance through his papers. He had come from Court, and was in wig and +gown, which suited a nose jutting out like the handle of a tiny pump, his +small shrewd blue eyes, and rather protruding lower lip--no better man to +supplement and stiffen Dreamer. + +The introduction to Winifred accomplished, they leaped the weather and +spoke of the war. Soames interrupted suddenly: + +"If he doesn't comply we can't bring proceedings for six months. I want +to get on with the matter, Bellby." + +Mr. Bellby, who had the ghost of an Irish brogue, smiled at Winifred and +murmured: "The Law's delays, Mrs. Dartie." + +"Six months!" repeated Soames; "it'll drive it up to June! We shan't get +the suit on till after the long vacation. We must put the screw on, +Bellby"--he would have all his work cut out to keep Winifred up to the +scratch. + +"Mr. Dreamer will see you now, sir." + +They filed in, Mr. Bellby going first, and Soames escorting Winifred +after an interval of one minute by his watch. + +Dreamer Q.C., in a gown but divested of wig, was standing before the +fire, as if this conference were in the nature of a treat; he had the +leathery, rather oily complexion which goes with great learning, a +considerable nose with glasses perched on it, and little greyish +whiskers; he luxuriated in the perpetual cocking of one eye, and the +concealment of his lower with his upper lip, which gave a smothered turn +to his speech. He had a way, too, of coming suddenly round the corner on +the person he was talking to; this, with a disconcerting tone of voice, +and a habit of growling before he began to speak--had secured a +reputation second in Probate and Divorce to very few. Having listened, +eye cocked, to Mr. Bellby's breezy recapitulation of the facts, he +growled, and said: + +"I know all that;" and coming round the corner at Winifred, smothered the +words: + +"We want to get him back, don't we, Mrs. Dartie?" + +Soames interposed sharply: + +"My sister's position, of course, is intolerable." + +Dreamer growled. "Exactly. Now, can we rely on the cabled refusal, or +must we wait till after Christmas to give him a chance to have +written--that's the point, isn't it?" + +"The sooner...." Soames began. + +"What do you say, Bellby?" said Dreamer, coming round his corner. + +Mr. Bellby seemed to sniff the air like a hound. + +"We won't be on till the middle of December. We've no need to give um +more rope than that." + +"No," said Soames, "why should my sister be incommoded by his choosing to +go..." + +"To Jericho!" said Dreamer, again coming round his corner; "quite so. +People oughtn't to go to Jericho, ought they, Mrs. Dartie?" And he raised +his gown into a sort of fantail. "I agree. We can go forward. Is there +anything more?" + +"Nothing at present," said Soames meaningly; "I wanted you to see my +sister." + +Dreamer growled softly: "Delighted. Good evening!" And let fall the +protection of his gown. + +They filed out. Winifred went down the stairs. Soames lingered. In +spite of himself he was impressed by Dreamer. + +"The evidence is all right, I think," he said to Bellby. "Between +ourselves, if we don't get the thing through quick, we never may. D'you +think he understands that?" + +"I'll make um," said Bellby. "Good man though--good man." + +Soames nodded and hastened after his sister. He found her in a draught, +biting her lips behind her veil, and at once said: + +"The evidence of the stewardess will be very complete." + +Winifred's face hardened; she drew herself up, and they walked to the +carriage. And, all through that silent drive back to Green Street, the +souls of both of them revolved a single thought: 'Why, oh! why should I +have to expose my misfortune to the public like this? Why have to employ +spies to peer into my private troubles? They were not of my making.' + + + + +CHAPTER V + +JOLLY SITS IN JUDGMENT + +The possessive instinct, which, so determinedly balked, was animating two +members of the Forsyte family towards riddance of what they could no +longer possess, was hardening daily in the British body politic. +Nicholas, originally so doubtful concerning a war which must affect +property, had been heard to say that these Boers were a pig-headed lot; +they were causing a lot of expense, and the sooner they had their lesson +the better. He would send out Wolseley! Seeing always a little further +than other people--whence the most considerable fortune of all the +Forsytes--he had perceived already that Buller was not the man--'a bull +of a chap, who just went butting, and if they didn't look out Ladysmith +would fall.' This was early in December, so that when Black Week came, he +was enabled to say to everybody: 'I told you so.' During that week of +gloom such as no Forsyte could remember, very young Nicholas attended so +many drills in his corps, 'The Devil's Own,' that young Nicholas +consulted the family physician about his son's health and was alarmed to +find that he was perfectly sound. The boy had only just eaten his +dinners and been called to the bar, at some expense, and it was in a way +a nightmare to his father and mother that he should be playing with +military efficiency at a time when military efficiency in the civilian +population might conceivably be wanted. His grandfather, of course, +pooh-poohed the notion, too thoroughly educated in the feeling that no +British war could be other than little and professional, and profoundly +distrustful of Imperial commitments, by which, moreover, he stood to +lose, for he owned De Beers, now going down fast, more than a sufficient +sacrifice on the part of his grandson. + +At Oxford, however, rather different sentiments prevailed. The inherent +effervescence of conglomerate youth had, during the two months of the +term before Black Week, been gradually crystallising out into vivid +oppositions. Normal adolescence, ever in England of a conservative +tendency though not taking things too seriously, was vehement for a fight +to a finish and a good licking for the Boers. Of this larger faction Val +Dartie was naturally a member. Radical youth, on the other hand, a small +but perhaps more vocal body, was for stopping the war and giving the +Boers autonomy. Until Black Week, however, the groups were amorphous, +without sharp edges, and argument remained but academic. Jolly was one +of those who knew not where he stood. A streak of his grandfather old +Jolyon's love of justice prevented, him from seeing one side only. +Moreover, in his set of 'the best' there was a 'jumping-Jesus' of +extremely advanced opinions and some personal magnetism. Jolly wavered. +His father, too, seemed doubtful in his views. And though, as was proper +at the age of twenty, he kept a sharp eye on his father, watchful for +defects which might still be remedied, still that father had an 'air' +which gave a sort of glamour to his creed of ironic tolerance. Artists +of course; were notoriously Hamlet-like, and to this extent one must +discount for one's father, even if one loved him. But Jolyon's original +view, that to 'put your nose in where you aren't wanted' (as the +Uitlanders had done) 'and then work the oracle till you get on top is not +being quite the clean potato,' had, whether founded in fact or no, a +certain attraction for his son, who thought a deal about gentility. On +the other hand Jolly could not abide such as his set called 'cranks,' and +Val's set called 'smugs,' so that he was still balancing when the clock +of Black Week struck. One--two--three, came those ominous repulses at +Stormberg, Magersfontein, Colenso. The sturdy English soul reacting +after the first cried, 'Ah! but Methuen!' after the second: 'Ah! but +Buller!' then, in inspissated gloom, hardened. And Jolly said to himself: +'No, damn it! We've got to lick the beggars now; I don't care whether +we're right or wrong.' And, if he had known it, his father was thinking +the same thought. + +That next Sunday, last of the term, Jolly was bidden to wine with 'one of +the best.' After the second toast, 'Buller and damnation to the Boers,' +drunk--no heel taps--in the college Burgundy, he noticed that Val Dartie, +also a guest, was looking at him with a grin and saying something to his +neighbour. He was sure it was disparaging. The last boy in the world to +make himself conspicuous or cause public disturbance, Jolly grew rather +red and shut his lips. The queer hostility he had always felt towards +his second-cousin was strongly and suddenly reinforced. 'All right!' he +thought, 'you wait, my friend!' More wine than was good for him, as the +custom was, helped him to remember, when they all trooped forth to a +secluded spot, to touch Val on the arm. + +"What did you say about me in there?" + +"Mayn't I say what I like?" + +"No." + +"Well, I said you were a pro-Boer--and so you are!" + +"You're a liar!" + +"D'you want a row?" + +"Of course, but not here; in the garden." + +"All right. Come on." + +They went, eyeing each other askance, unsteady, and unflinching; they +climbed the garden railings. The spikes on the top slightly ripped Val's +sleeve, and occupied his mind. Jolly's mind was occupied by the thought +that they were going to fight in the precincts of a college foreign to +them both. It was not the thing, but never mind--the young beast! + +They passed over the grass into very nearly darkness, and took off their +coats. + +"You're not screwed, are you?" said Jolly suddenly. "I can't fight you +if you're screwed." + +"No more than you." + +"All right then." + +Without shaking hands, they put themselves at once into postures of +defence. They had drunk too much for science, and so were especially +careful to assume correct attitudes, until Jolly smote Val almost +accidentally on the nose. After that it was all a dark and ugly +scrimmage in the deep shadow of the old trees, with no one to call +'time,' till, battered and blown, they unclinched and staggered back from +each other, as a voice said: + +"Your names, young gentlemen?" + +At this bland query spoken from under the lamp at the garden gate, like +some demand of a god, their nerves gave way, and snatching up their +coats, they ran at the railings, shinned up them, and made for the +secluded spot whence they had issued to the fight. Here, in dim light, +they mopped their faces, and without a word walked, ten paces apart, to +the college gate. They went out silently, Val going towards the Broad +along the Brewery, Jolly down the lane towards the High. His head, still +fumed, was busy with regret that he had not displayed more science, +passing in review the counters and knockout blows which he had not +delivered. His mind strayed on to an imagined combat, infinitely unlike +that which he had just been through, infinitely gallant, with sash and +sword, with thrust and parry, as if he were in the pages of his beloved +Dumas. He fancied himself La Mole, and Aramis, Bussy, Chicot, and +D'Artagnan rolled into one, but he quite failed to envisage Val as +Coconnas, Brissac, or Rochefort. The fellow was just a confounded cousin +who didn't come up to Cocker. Never mind! He had given him one or two. +'Pro-Boer!' The word still rankled, and thoughts of enlisting jostled +his aching head; of riding over the veldt, firing gallantly, while the +Boers rolled over like rabbits. And, turning up his smarting eyes, he +saw the stars shining between the housetops of the High, and himself +lying out on the Karoo (whatever that was) rolled in a blanket, with his +rifle ready and his gaze fixed on a glittering heaven. + +He had a fearful 'head' next morning, which he doctored, as became one of +'the best,' by soaking it in cold water, brewing strong coffee which he +could not drink, and only sipping a little Hock at lunch. The legend +that 'some fool' had run into him round a corner accounted for a bruise +on his cheek. He would on no account have mentioned the fight, for, on +second thoughts, it fell far short of his standards. + +The next day he went 'down,' and travelled through to Robin Hill. Nobody +was there but June and Holly, for his father had gone to Paris. He spent +a restless and unsettled Vacation, quite out of touch with either of his +sisters. June, indeed, was occupied with lame ducks, whom, as a rule, +Jolly could not stand, especially that Eric Cobbley and his family, +'hopeless outsiders,' who were always littering up the house in the +Vacation. And between Holly and himself there was a strange division, as +if she were beginning to have opinions of her own, which was +so--unnecessary. He punched viciously at a ball, rode furiously but +alone in Richmond Park, making a point of jumping the stiff, high hurdles +put up to close certain worn avenues of grass--keeping his nerve in, he +called it. Jolly was more afraid of being afraid than most boys are. He +bought a rifle, too, and put a range up in the home field, shooting +across the pond into the kitchen-garden wall, to the peril of gardeners, +with the thought that some day, perhaps, he would enlist and save South +Africa for his country. In fact, now that they were appealing for +Yeomanry recruits the boy was thoroughly upset. Ought he to go? None of +'the best,' so far as he knew--and he was in correspondence with +several--were thinking of joining. If they had been making a move he +would have gone at once--very competitive, and with a strong sense of +form, he could not bear to be left behind in anything--but to do it off +his own bat might look like 'swagger'; because of course it wasn't really +necessary. Besides, he did not want to go, for the other side of this +young Forsyte recoiled from leaping before he looked. It was altogether +mixed pickles within him, hot and sickly pickles, and he became quite +unlike his serene and rather lordly self. + +And then one day he saw that which moved him to uneasy wrath--two riders, +in a glade of the Park close to the Ham Gate, of whom she on the +left-hand was most assuredly Holly on her silver roan, and he on the +right-hand as assuredly that 'squirt' Val Dartie. His first impulse was +to urge on his own horse and demand the meaning of this portent, tell the +fellow to 'bunk,' and take Holly home. His second--to feel that he would +look a fool if they refused. He reined his horse in behind a tree, then +perceived that it was equally impossible to spy on them. Nothing for it +but to go home and await her coming! Sneaking out with that young +bounder! He could not consult with June, because she had gone up that +morning in the train of Eric Cobbley and his lot. And his father was +still in 'that rotten Paris.' He felt that this was emphatically one of +those moments for which he had trained himself, assiduously, at school, +where he and a boy called Brent had frequently set fire to newspapers and +placed them in the centre of their studies to accustom them to coolness +in moments of danger. He did not feel at all cool waiting in the +stable-yard, idly stroking the dog Balthasar, who queasy as an old fat +monk, and sad in the absence of his master, turned up his face, panting +with gratitude for this attention. It was half an hour before Holly +came, flushed and ever so much prettier than she had any right to look. +He saw her look at him quickly--guiltily of course--then followed her in, +and, taking her arm, conducted her into what had been their grandfather's +study. The room, not much used now, was still vaguely haunted for them +both by a presence with which they associated tenderness, large drooping +white moustaches, the scent of cigar smoke, and laughter. Here Jolly, in +the prime of his youth, before he went to school at all, had been wont to +wrestle with his grandfather, who even at eighty had an irresistible +habit of crooking his leg. Here Holly, perched on the arm of the great +leather chair, had stroked hair curving silvery over an ear into which +she would whisper secrets. Through that window they had all three +sallied times without number to cricket on the lawn, and a mysterious +game called 'Wopsy-doozle,' not to be understood by outsiders, which made +old Jolyon very hot. Here once on a warm night Holly had appeared in her +'nighty,' having had a bad dream, to have the clutch of it released. And +here Jolly, having begun the day badly by introducing fizzy magnesia into +Mademoiselle Beauce's new-laid egg, and gone on to worse, had been sent +down (in the absence of his father) to the ensuing dialogue: + +"Now, my boy, you mustn't go on like this." + +"Well, she boxed my ears, Gran, so I only boxed hers, and then she boxed +mine again." + +"Strike a lady? That'll never do! Have you begged her pardon?" + +"Not yet." + +"Then you must go and do it at once. Come along." + +"But she began it, Gran; and she had two to my one." + +"My dear, it was an outrageous thing to do." + +"Well, she lost her temper; and I didn't lose mine." + +"Come along." + +"You come too, then, Gran." + +"Well--this time only." + +And they had gone hand in hand. + +Here--where the Waverley novels and Byron's works and Gibbon's Roman +Empire and Humboldt's Cosmos, and the bronzes on the mantelpiece, and +that masterpiece of the oily school, 'Dutch Fishing-Boats at Sunset,' +were fixed as fate, and for all sign of change old Jolyon might have been +sitting there still, with legs crossed, in the arm chair, and domed +forehead and deep eyes grave above The Times--here they came, those two +grandchildren. And Jolly said: + +"I saw you and that fellow in the Park." + +The sight of blood rushing into her cheeks gave him some satisfaction; +she ought to be ashamed! + +"Well?" she said. + +Jolly was surprised; he had expected more, or less. + +"Do you know," he said weightily, "that he called me a pro-Boer last +term? And I had to fight him." + +"Who won?" + +Jolly wished to answer: 'I should have,' but it seemed beneath him. + +"Look here!" he said, "what's the meaning of it? Without telling +anybody!" + +"Why should I? Dad isn't here; why shouldn't I ride with him?" + +"You've got me to ride with. I think he's an awful young rotter." + +Holly went pale with anger. + +"He isn't. It's your own fault for not liking him." + +And slipping past her brother she went out, leaving him staring at the +bronze Venus sitting on a tortoise, which had been shielded from him so +far by his sister's dark head under her soft felt riding hat. He felt +queerly disturbed, shaken to his young foundations. A lifelong +domination lay shattered round his feet. He went up to the Venus and +mechanically inspected the tortoise. + +Why didn't he like Val Dartie? He could not tell. Ignorant of family +history, barely aware of that vague feud which had started thirteen years +before with Bosinney's defection from June in favour of Soames' wife, +knowing really almost nothing about Val he was at sea. He just did +dislike him. The question, however, was: What should he do? Val Dartie, +it was true, was a second-cousin, but it was not the thing for Holly to +go about with him. And yet to 'tell' of what he had chanced on was +against his creed. In this dilemma he went and sat in the old leather +chair and crossed his legs. It grew dark while he sat there staring out +through the long window at the old oak-tree, ample yet bare of leaves, +becoming slowly just a shape of deeper dark printed on the dusk. + +'Grandfather!' he thought without sequence, and took out his watch. He +could not see the hands, but he set the repeater going. 'Five o'clock!' +His grandfather's first gold hunter watch, butter-smooth with age--all +the milling worn from it, and dented with the mark of many a fall. The +chime was like a little voice from out of that golden age, when they +first came from St. John's Wood, London, to this house--came driving +with grandfather in his carriage, and almost instantly took to the trees. +Trees to climb, and grandfather watering the geranium-beds below! What +was to be done? Tell Dad he must come home? Confide in June?--only she +was so--so sudden! Do nothing and trust to luck? After all, the Vac. +would soon be over. Go up and see Val and warn him off? But how get his +address? Holly wouldn't give it him! A maze of paths, a cloud of +possibilities! He lit a cigarette. When he had smoked it halfway +through his brow relaxed, almost as if some thin old hand had been passed +gently over it; and in his ear something seemed to whisper: 'Do nothing; +be nice to Holly, be nice to her, my dear!' And Jolly heaved a sigh of +contentment, blowing smoke through his nostrils.... + +But up in her room, divested of her habit, Holly was still frowning. 'He +is not--he is not!' were the words which kept forming on her lips. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOLYON IN TWO MINDS + +A little private hotel over a well-known restaurant near the Gare St. +Lazare was Jolyon's haunt in Paris. He hated his fellow Forsytes +abroad--vapid as fish out of water in their well-trodden runs, the Opera, +Rue de Rivoli, and Moulin Rouge. Their air of having come because they +wanted to be somewhere else as soon as possible annoyed him. But no +other Forsyte came near this haunt, where he had a wood fire in his +bedroom and the coffee was excellent. Paris was always to him more +attractive in winter. The acrid savour from woodsmoke and +chestnut-roasting braziers, the sharpness of the wintry sunshine on +bright rays, the open cafes defying keen-aired winter, the self-contained +brisk boulevard crowds, all informed him that in winter Paris possessed a +soul which, like a migrant bird, in high summer flew away. + +He spoke French well, had some friends, knew little places where pleasant +dishes could be met with, queer types observed. He felt philosophic in +Paris, the edge of irony sharpened; life took on a subtle, purposeless +meaning, became a bunch of flavours tasted, a darkness shot with shifting +gleams of light. + +When in the first week of December he decided to go to Paris, he was far +from admitting that Irene's presence was influencing him. He had not been +there two days before he owned that the wish to see her had been more +than half the reason. In England one did not admit what was natural. He +had thought it might be well to speak to her about the letting of her +flat and other matters, but in Paris he at once knew better. There was a +glamour over the city. On the third day he wrote to her, and received an +answer which procured him a pleasurable shiver of the nerves: +"MY DEAR JOLYON, + +"It will be a happiness for me to see you. +"IRENE." + +He took his way to her hotel on a bright day with a feeling such as he +had often had going to visit an adored picture. No woman, so far as he +remembered, had ever inspired in him this special sensuous and yet +impersonal sensation. He was going to sit and feast his eyes, and come +away knowing her no better, but ready to go and feast his eyes again +to-morrow. Such was his feeling, when in the tarnished and ornate little +lounge of a quiet hotel near the river she came to him preceded by a +small page-boy who uttered the word, "Madame," and vanished. Her face, +her smile, the poise of her figure, were just as he had pictured, and the +expression of her face said plainly: 'A friend!' + +"Well," he said, "what news, poor exile?" + +"None." + +"Nothing from Soames?" + +"Nothing." + +"I have let the flat for you, and like a good steward I bring you some +money. How do you like Paris?" + +While he put her through this catechism, it seemed to him that he had +never seen lips so fine and sensitive, the lower lip curving just a +little upwards, the upper touched at one corner by the least conceivable +dimple. It was like discovering a woman in what had hitherto been a sort +of soft and breathed-on statue, almost impersonally admired. She owned +that to be alone in Paris was a little difficult; and yet, Paris was so +full of its own life that it was often, she confessed, as innocuous as a +desert. Besides, the English were not liked just now! + +"That will hardly be your case," said Jolyon; "you should appeal to the +French." + +"It has its disadvantages." + +Jolyon nodded. + +"Well, you must let me take you about while I'm here. We'll start +to-morrow. Come and dine at my pet restaurant; and we'll go to the +Opera-Comique." + +It was the beginning of daily meetings. + +Jolyon soon found that for those who desired a static condition of the +affections, Paris was at once the first and last place in which to be +friendly with a pretty woman. Revelation was alighting like a bird in +his heart, singing: 'Elle est ton reve! Elle est ton reve! Sometimes +this seemed natural, sometimes ludicrous--a bad case of elderly rapture. +Having once been ostracised by Society, he had never since had any real +regard for conventional morality; but the idea of a love which she could +never return--and how could she at his age?--hardly mounted beyond his +subconscious mind. He was full, too, of resentment, at the waste and +loneliness of her life. Aware of being some comfort to her, and of the +pleasure she clearly took in their many little outings, he was amiably +desirous of doing and saying nothing to destroy that pleasure. It was +like watching a starved plant draw up water, to see her drink in his +companionship. So far as they could tell, no one knew her address except +himself; she was unknown in Paris, and he but little known, so that +discretion seemed unnecessary in those walks, talks, visits to concerts, +picture-galleries, theatres, little dinners, expeditions to Versailles, +St. Cloud, even Fontainebleau. And time fled--one of those full months +without past to it or future. What in his youth would certainly have +been headlong passion, was now perhaps as deep a feeling, but far +gentler, tempered to protective companionship by admiration, +hopelessness, and a sense of chivalry--arrested in his veins at least so +long as she was there, smiling and happy in their friendship, and always +to him more beautiful and spiritually responsive: for her philosophy of +life seemed to march in admirable step with his own, conditioned by +emotion more than by reason, ironically mistrustful, susceptible to +beauty, almost passionately humane and tolerant, yet subject to +instinctive rigidities of which as a mere man he was less capable. And +during all this companionable month he never quite lost that feeling with +which he had set out on the first day as if to visit an adored work of +art, a well-nigh impersonal desire. The future--inexorable pendant to +the present he took care not to face, for fear of breaking up his +untroubled manner; but he made plans to renew this time in places still +more delightful, where the sun was hot and there were strange things to +see and paint. The end came swiftly on the 20th of January with a +telegram: + +"Have enlisted in Imperial Yeomanry. JOLLY." + +Jolyon received it just as he was setting out to meet her at the Louvre. +It brought him up with a round turn. While he was lotus-eating here, his +boy, whose philosopher and guide he ought to be, had taken this great +step towards danger, hardship, perhaps even death. He felt disturbed to +the soul, realising suddenly how Irene had twined herself round the roots +of his being. Thus threatened with severance, the tie between them--for +it had become a kind of tie--no longer had impersonal quality. The +tranquil enjoyment of things in common, Jolyon perceived, was gone for +ever. He saw his feeling as it was, in the nature of an infatuation. +Ridiculous, perhaps, but so real that sooner or later it must disclose +itself. And now, as it seemed to him, he could not, must not, make any +such disclosure. The news of Jolly stood inexorably in the way. He was +proud of this enlistment; proud of his boy for going off to fight for the +country; for on Jolyon's pro-Boerism, too, Black Week had left its mark. +And so the end was reached before the beginning! Well, luckily he had +never made a sign! + +When he came into the Gallery she was standing before the 'Virgin of the +Rocks,' graceful, absorbed, smiling and unconscious. 'Have I to give up +seeing that?' he thought. 'It's unnatural, so long as she's willing that +I should see her.' He stood, unnoticed, watching her, storing up the +image of her figure, envying the picture on which she was bending that +long scrutiny. Twice she turned her head towards the entrance, and he +thought: 'That's for me!' At last he went forward. + +"Look!" he said. + +She read the telegram, and he heard her sigh. + +That sigh, too, was for him! His position was really cruel! To be loyal +to his son he must just shake her hand and go. To be loyal to the +feeling in his heart he must at least tell her what that feeling was. +Could she, would she understand the silence in which he was gazing at +that picture? + +"I'm afraid I must go home at once," he said at last. "I shall miss all +this awfully." + +"So shall I; but, of course, you must go." + +"Well!" said Jolyon holding out his hand. + +Meeting her eyes, a flood of feeling nearly mastered him. + +"Such is life!" he said. "Take care of yourself, my dear!" + +He had a stumbling sensation in his legs and feet, as if his brain +refused to steer him away from her. From the doorway, he saw her lift +her hand and touch its fingers with her lips. He raised his hat +solemnly, and did not look back again. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +DARTIE VERSUS DARTIE + +The suit--Dartie versus Dartie--for restitution of those conjugal rights +concerning which Winifred was at heart so deeply undecided, followed the +laws of subtraction towards day of judgment. This was not reached before +the Courts rose for Christmas, but the case was third on the list when +they sat again. Winifred spent the Christmas holidays a thought more +fashionably than usual, with the matter locked up in her low-cut bosom. +James was particularly liberal to her that Christmas, expressing thereby +his sympathy, and relief, at the approaching dissolution of her marriage +with that 'precious rascal,' which his old heart felt but his old lips +could not utter. + +The disappearance of Dartie made the fall in Consols a comparatively +small matter; and as to the scandal--the real animus he felt against that +fellow, and the increasing lead which property was attaining over +reputation in a true Forsyte about to leave this world, served to drug a +mind from which all allusions to the matter (except his own) were +studiously kept. What worried him as a lawyer and a parent was the fear +that Dartie might suddenly turn up and obey the Order of the Court when +made. That would be a pretty how-de-do! The fear preyed on him in fact +so much that, in presenting Winifred with a large Christmas cheque, he +said: "It's chiefly for that chap out there; to keep him from coming +back." It was, of course, to pitch away good money, but all in the +nature of insurance against that bankruptcy which would no longer hang +over him if only the divorce went through; and he questioned Winifred +rigorously until she could assure him that the money had been sent. Poor +woman!--it cost her many a pang to send what must find its way into the +vanity-bag of 'that creature!' Soames, hearing of it, shook his head. +They were not dealing with a Forsyte, reasonably tenacious of his +purpose. It was very risky without knowing how the land lay out there. +Still, it would look well with the Court; and he would see that Dreamer +brought it out. "I wonder," he said suddenly, "where that ballet goes +after the Argentine"; never omitting a chance of reminder; for he knew +that Winifred still had a weakness, if not for Dartie, at least for not +laundering him in public. Though not good at showing admiration, he +admitted that she was behaving extremely well, with all her children at +home gaping like young birds for news of their father--Imogen just on the +point of coming out, and Val very restive about the whole thing. He felt +that Val was the real heart of the matter to Winifred, who certainly +loved him beyond her other children. The boy could spoke the wheel of +this divorce yet if he set his mind to it. And Soames was very careful +to keep the proximity of the preliminary proceedings from his nephew's +ears. He did more. He asked him to dine at the Remove, and over Val's +cigar introduced the subject which he knew to be nearest to his heart. + +"I hear," he said, "that you want to play polo up at Oxford." + +Val became less recumbent in his chair. + +"Rather!" he said. + +"Well," continued Soames, "that's a very expensive business. Your +grandfather isn't likely to consent to it unless he can make sure that +he's not got any other drain on him." And he paused to see whether the +boy understood his meaning. + +Val's thick dark lashes concealed his eyes, but a slight grimace appeared +on his wide mouth, and he muttered: + +"I suppose you mean my Dad!" + +"Yes," said Soames; "I'm afraid it depends on whether he continues to be +a drag or not;" and said no more, letting the boy dream it over. + +But Val was also dreaming in those days of a silver-roan palfrey and a +girl riding it. Though Crum was in town and an introduction to Cynthia +Dark to be had for the asking, Val did not ask; indeed, he shunned Crum +and lived a life strange even to himself, except in so far as accounts +with tailor and livery stable were concerned. To his mother, his sisters, +his young brother, he seemed to spend this Vacation in 'seeing fellows,' +and his evenings sleepily at home. They could not propose anything in +daylight that did not meet with the one response: "Sorry; I've got to see +a fellow"; and he was put to extraordinary shifts to get in and out of +the house unobserved in riding clothes; until, being made a member of the +Goat's Club, he was able to transport them there, where he could change +unregarded and slip off on his hack to Richmond Park. He kept his +growing sentiment religiously to himself. Not for a world would he +breathe to the 'fellows,' whom he was not 'seeing,' anything so +ridiculous from the point of view of their creed and his. But he could +not help its destroying his other appetites. It was coming between him +and the legitimate pleasures of youth at last on its own in a way which +must, he knew, make him a milksop in the eyes of Crum. All he cared for +was to dress in his last-created riding togs, and steal away to the Robin +Hill Gate, where presently the silver roan would come demurely sidling +with its slim and dark-haired rider, and in the glades bare of leaves +they would go off side by side, not talking very much, riding races +sometimes, and sometimes holding hands. More than once of an evening, in +a moment of expansion, he had been tempted to tell his mother how this +shy sweet cousin had stolen in upon him and wrecked his 'life.' But +bitter experience, that all persons above thirty-five were spoil-sports, +prevented him. After all, he supposed he would have to go through with +College, and she would have to 'come out,' before they could be married; +so why complicate things, so long as he could see her? Sisters were +teasing and unsympathetic beings, a brother worse, so there was no one to +confide in. Ah! And this beastly divorce business! What a misfortune +to have a name which other people hadn't! If only he had been called +Gordon or Scott or Howard or something fairly common! But Dartie--there +wasn't another in the directory! One might as well have been named +Morkin for all the covert it afforded! So matters went on, till one day +in the middle of January the silver-roan palfrey and its rider were +missing at the tryst. Lingering in the cold, he debated whether he +should ride on to the house: But Jolly might be there, and the memory of +their dark encounter was still fresh within him. One could not be always +fighting with her brother! So he returned dismally to town and spent an +evening plunged in gloom. At breakfast next day he noticed that his +mother had on an unfamiliar dress and was wearing her hat. The dress was +black with a glimpse of peacock blue, the hat black and large--she looked +exceptionally well. But when after breakfast she said to him, "Come in +here, Val," and led the way to the drawing-room, he was at once beset by +qualms. Winifred carefully shut the door and passed her handkerchief +over her lips; inhaling the violette de Parme with which it had been +soaked, Val thought: 'Has she found out about Holly?' + +Her voice interrupted + +"Are you going to be nice to me, dear boy?" + +Val grinned doubtfully. + +"Will you come with me this morning...." + +"I've got to see...." began Val, but something in her face stopped him. +"I say," he said, "you don't mean...." + +"Yes, I have to go to the Court this morning." Already!--that d---d +business which he had almost succeeded in forgetting, since nobody ever +mentioned it. In self-commiseration he stood picking little bits of skin +off his fingers. Then noticing that his mother's lips were all awry, he +said impulsively: "All right, mother; I'll come. The brutes!" What +brutes he did not know, but the expression exactly summed up their joint +feeling, and restored a measure of equanimity. + +"I suppose I'd better change into a 'shooter,"' he muttered, escaping to +his room. He put on the 'shooter,' a higher collar, a pearl pin, and his +neatest grey spats, to a somewhat blasphemous accompaniment. Looking at +himself in the glass, he said, "Well, I'm damned if I'm going to show +anything!" and went down. He found his grandfather's carriage at the +door, and his mother in furs, with the appearance of one going to a +Mansion House Assembly. They seated themselves side by side in the +closed barouche, and all the way to the Courts of Justice Val made but +one allusion to the business in hand. "There'll be nothing about those +pearls, will there?" + +The little tufted white tails of Winifred's muff began to shiver. + +"Oh, no," she said, "it'll be quite harmless to-day. Your grandmother +wanted to come too, but I wouldn't let her. I thought you could take +care of me. You look so nice, Val. Just pull your coat collar up a +little more at the back--that's right." + +"If they bully you...." began Val. + +"Oh! they won't. I shall be very cool. It's the only way." + +"They won't want me to give evidence or anything?" + +"No, dear; it's all arranged." And she patted his hand. The determined +front she was putting on it stayed the turmoil in Val's chest, and he +busied himself in drawing his gloves off and on. He had taken what he +now saw was the wrong pair to go with his spats; they should have been +grey, but were deerskin of a dark tan; whether to keep them on or not he +could not decide. They arrived soon after ten. It was his first visit +to the Law Courts, and the building struck him at once. + +"By Jove!" he said as they passed into the hall, "this'd make four or +five jolly good racket courts." + +Soames was awaiting them at the foot of some stairs. + +"Here you are!" he said, without shaking hands, as if the event had made +them too familiar for such formalities. "It's Happerly Browne, Court I. +We shall be on first." + +A sensation such as he had known when going in to bat was playing now in +the top of Val's chest, but he followed his mother and uncle doggedly, +looking at no more than he could help, and thinking that the place +smelled 'fuggy.' People seemed to be lurking everywhere, and he plucked +Soames by the sleeve. + +"I say, Uncle, you're not going to let those beastly papers in, are you?" + +Soames gave him the sideway look which had reduced many to silence in its +time. + +"In here," he said. "You needn't take off your furs, Winifred." + +Val entered behind them, nettled and with his head up. In this +confounded hole everybody--and there were a good many of them--seemed +sitting on everybody else's knee, though really divided from each other +by pews; and Val had a feeling that they might all slip down together +into the well. This, however, was but a momentary vision--of mahogany, +and black gowns, and white blobs of wigs and faces and papers, all rather +secret and whispery--before he was sitting next his mother in the front +row, with his back to it all, glad of her violette de Parme, and taking +off his gloves for the last time. His mother was looking at him; he was +suddenly conscious that she had really wanted him there next to her, and +that he counted for something in this business. + +All right! He would show them! Squaring his shoulders, he crossed his +legs and gazed inscrutably at his spats. But just then an 'old Johnny' +in a gown and long wig, looking awfully like a funny raddled woman, came +through a door into the high pew opposite, and he had to uncross his legs +hastily, and stand up with everybody else. + +'Dartie versus Dartie!' + +It seemed to Val unspeakably disgusting to have one's name called out +like this in public! And, suddenly conscious that someone nearly behind +him had begun talking about his family, he screwed his face round to see +an old be-wigged buffer, who spoke as if he were eating his own +words--queer-looking old cuss, the sort of man he had seen once or twice +dining at Park Lane and punishing the port; he knew now where they 'dug +them up.' All the same he found the old buffer quite fascinating, and +would have continued to stare if his mother had not touched his arm. +Reduced to gazing before him, he fixed his eyes on the Judge's face +instead. Why should that old 'sportsman' with his sarcastic mouth and +his quick-moving eyes have the power to meddle with their private +affairs--hadn't he affairs of his own, just as many, and probably just as +nasty? And there moved in Val, like an illness, all the deep-seated +individualism of his breed. The voice behind him droned along: +"Differences about money matters--extravagance of the respondent" +(What a word! Was that his father?)--"strained situation--frequent +absences on the part of Mr. Dartie. My client, very rightly, your +Ludship will agree, was anxious to check a course--but lead to +ruin--remonstrated--gambling at cards and on the racecourse--" ('That's +right!' thought Val, 'pile it on!') "Crisis early in October, when the +respondent wrote her this letter from his Club." Val sat up and his ears +burned. "I propose to read it with the emendations necessary to the +epistle of a gentleman who has been--shall we say dining, me Lud?" + +'Old brute!' thought Val, flushing deeper; 'you're not paid to make +jokes!' + +"'You will not get the chance to insult me again in my own house. I am +leaving the country to-morrow. It's played out'--an expression, your +Ludship, not unknown in the mouths of those who have not met with +conspicuous success." + +'Sniggering owls!' thought Val, and his flush deepened. + +"'I am tired of being insulted by you.' My client will tell your Ludship +that these so-called insults consisted in her calling him 'the limit',--a +very mild expression, I venture to suggest, in all the circumstances." + +Val glanced sideways at his mother's impassive face, it had a hunted look +in the eyes. 'Poor mother,' he thought, and touched her arm with his +own. The voice behind droned on. + +"'I am going to live a new life. M. D.'" + +"And next day, me Lud, the respondent left by the steamship Tuscarora for +Buenos Aires. Since then we have nothing from him but a cabled refusal +in answer to the letter which my client wrote the following day in great +distress, begging him to return to her. With your Ludship's permission. +I shall now put Mrs. Dartie in the box." + +When his mother rose, Val had a tremendous impulse to rise too and say: +'Look here! I'm going to see you jolly well treat her decently.' He +subdued it, however; heard her saying, 'the truth, the whole truth, and +nothing but the truth,' and looked up. She made a rich figure of it, in +her furs and large hat, with a slight flush on her cheek-bones, calm, +matter-of-fact; and he felt proud of her thus confronting all these +'confounded lawyers.' The examination began. Knowing that this was only +the preliminary to divorce, Val followed with a certain glee the +questions framed so as to give the impression that she really wanted his +father back. It seemed to him that they were 'foxing Old Bagwigs finely.' + +And he received a most unpleasant jar when the Judge said suddenly: + +"Now, why did your husband leave you--not because you called him 'the +limit,' you know?" + +Val saw his uncle lift his eyes to the witness box, without moving his +face; heard a shuffle of papers behind him; and instinct told him that +the issue was in peril. Had Uncle Soames and the old buffer behind made +a mess of it? His mother was speaking with a slight drawl. + +"No, my Lord, but it had gone on a long time." + +"What had gone on?" + +"Our differences about money." + +"But you supplied the money. Do you suggest that he left you to better +his position?" + +'The brute! The old brute, and nothing but the brute!' thought Val +suddenly. 'He smells a rat he's trying to get at the pastry!' And his +heart stood still. If--if he did, then, of course, he would know that +his mother didn't really want his father back. His mother spoke again, a +thought more fashionably. + +"No, my Lord, but you see I had refused to give him any more money. It +took him a long time to believe that, but he did at last--and when he +did...." + +"I see, you had refused. But you've sent him some since." + +"My Lord, I wanted him back." + +"And you thought that would bring him?" + +"I don't know, my Lord, I acted on my father's advice." + +Something in the Judge's face, in the sound of the papers behind him, in +the sudden crossing of his uncle's legs, told Val that she had made just +the right answer. 'Crafty!' he thought; 'by Jove, what humbug it all +is!' + +The Judge was speaking: + +"Just one more question, Mrs. Dartie. Are you still fond of your +husband?" + +Val's hands, slack behind him, became fists. What business had that +Judge to make things human suddenly? To make his mother speak out of her +heart, and say what, perhaps, she didn't know herself, before all these +people! It wasn't decent. His mother answered, rather low: "Yes, my +Lord." Val saw the Judge nod. 'Wish I could take a cock-shy at your +head!' he thought irreverently, as his mother came back to her seat +beside him. Witnesses to his father's departure and continued absence +followed--one of their own maids even, which struck Val as particularly +beastly; there was more talking, all humbug; and then the Judge +pronounced the decree for restitution, and they got up to go. Val walked +out behind his mother, chin squared, eyelids drooped, doing his level +best to despise everybody. His mother's voice in the corridor roused him +from an angry trance. + +"You behaved beautifully, dear. It was such a comfort to have you. Your +uncle and I are going to lunch." + +"All right," said Val; "I shall have time to go and see that fellow." +And, parting from them abruptly, he ran down the stairs and out into the +air. He bolted into a hansom, and drove to the Goat's Club. His +thoughts were on Holly and what he must do before her brother showed her +this thing in to-morrow's paper. + + ******************************* + +When Val had left them Soames and Winifred made their way to the Cheshire +Cheese. He had suggested it as a meeting place with Mr. Bellby. At that +early hour of noon they would have it to themselves, and Winifred had +thought it would be 'amusing' to see this far-famed hostelry. Having +ordered a light repast, to the consternation of the waiter, they awaited +its arrival together with that of Mr. Bellby, in silent reaction after +the hour and a half's suspense on the tenterhooks of publicity. Mr. +Bellby entered presently, preceded by his nose, as cheerful as they were +glum. Well! they had got the decree of restitution, and what was the +matter with that! + +"Quite," said Soames in a suitably low voice, "but we shall have to begin +again to get evidence. He'll probably try the divorce--it will look +fishy if it comes out that we knew of misconduct from the start. His +questions showed well enough that he doesn't like this restitution +dodge." + +"Pho!" said Mr. Bellby cheerily, "he'll forget! Why, man, he'll have +tried a hundred cases between now and then. Besides, he's bound by +precedent to give ye your divorce, if the evidence is satisfactory. We +won't let um know that Mrs. Dartie had knowledge of the facts. Dreamer +did it very nicely--he's got a fatherly touch about um!" + +Soames nodded. + +"And I compliment ye, Mrs. Dartie," went on Mr. Bellby; "ye've a natural +gift for giving evidence. Steady as a rock." + +Here the, waiter arrived with three plates balanced on one arm, and the +remark: "I 'urried up the pudden, sir. You'll find plenty o' lark in it +to-day." + +Mr. Bellby applauded his forethought with a dip of his nose. But Soames +and Winifred looked with dismay at their light lunch of gravified brown +masses, touching them gingerly with their forks in the hope of +distinguishing the bodies of the tasty little song-givers. Having begun, +however, they found they were hungrier than they thought, and finished +the lot, with a glass of port apiece. Conversation turned on the war. +Soames thought Ladysmith would fall, and it might last a year. Bellby +thought it would be over by the summer. Both agreed that they wanted +more men. There was nothing for it but complete victory, since it was +now a question of prestige. Winifred brought things back to more solid +ground by saying that she did not want the divorce suit to come on till +after the summer holidays had begun at Oxford, then the boys would have +forgotten about it before Val had to go up again; the London season too +would be over. The lawyers reassured her, an interval of six months was +necessary--after that the earlier the better. People were now beginning +to come in, and they parted--Soames to the city, Bellby to his chambers, +Winifred in a hansom to Park Lane to let her mother know how she had +fared. The issue had been so satisfactory on the whole that it was +considered advisable to tell James, who never failed to say day after day +that he didn't know about Winifred's affair, he couldn't tell. As his +sands ran out; the importance of mundane matters became increasingly +grave to him, as if he were feeling: 'I must make the most of it, and +worry well; I shall soon have nothing to worry about.' + +He received the report grudgingly. It was a new-fangled way of going +about things, and he didn't know! But he gave Winifred a cheque, saying: + +"I expect you'll have a lot of expense. That's a new hat you've got on. +Why doesn't Val come and see us?" + +Winifred promised to bring him to dinner soon. And, going home, she +sought her bedroom where she could be alone. Now that her husband had +been ordered back into her custody with a view to putting him away from +her for ever, she would try once more to find out from her sore and +lonely heart what she really wanted. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE CHALLENGE + +The morning had been misty, verging on frost, but the sun came out while +Val was jogging towards the Roehampton Gate, whence he would canter on to +the usual tryst. His spirits were rising rapidly. There had been nothing +so very terrible in the morning's proceedings beyond the general disgrace +of violated privacy. 'If we were engaged!' he thought, 'what happens +wouldn't matter.' He felt, indeed, like human society, which kicks and +clamours at the results of matrimony, and hastens to get married. And he +galloped over the winter-dried grass of Richmond Park, fearing to be +late. But again he was alone at the trysting spot, and this second +defection on the part of Holly upset him dreadfully. He could not go +back without seeing her to-day! Emerging from the Park, he proceeded +towards Robin Hill. He could not make up his mind for whom to ask. +Suppose her father were back, or her sister or brother were in! He +decided to gamble, and ask for them all first, so that if he were in luck +and they were not there, it would be quite natural in the end to ask for +Holly; while if any of them were in--an 'excuse for a ride' must be his +saving grace. + +"Only Miss Holly is in, sir." + +"Oh! thanks. Might I take my horse round to the stables? And would you +say--her cousin, Mr. Val Dartie." + +When he returned she was in the hall, very flushed and shy. She led him +to the far end, and they sat down on a wide window-seat. + +"I've been awfully anxious," said Val in a low voice. "What's the +matter?" + +"Jolly knows about our riding." + +"Is he in?" + +"No; but I expect he will be soon." + +"Then!" cried Val, and diving forward, he seized her hand. She tried to +withdraw it, failed, gave up the attempt, and looked at him wistfully. + +"First of all," he said, "I want to tell you something about my family. +My Dad, you know, isn't altogether--I mean, he's left my mother and +they're trying to divorce him; so they've ordered him to come back, you +see. You'll see that in the paper to-morrow." + +Her eyes deepened in colour and fearful interest; her hand squeezed his. +But the gambler in Val was roused now, and he hurried on: + +"Of course there's nothing very much at present, but there will be, I +expect, before it's over; divorce suits are beastly, you know. I wanted +to tell you, because--because--you ought to know--if--" and he began to +stammer, gazing at her troubled eyes, "if--if you're going to be a +darling and love me, Holly. I love you--ever so; and I want to be +engaged." He had done it in a manner so inadequate that he could have +punched his own head; and dropping on his knees, he tried to get nearer +to that soft, troubled face. "You do love me--don't you? If you don't +I...." There was a moment of silence and suspense, so awful that he could +hear the sound of a mowing-machine far out on the lawn pretending there +was grass to cut. Then she swayed forward; her free hand touched his +hair, and he gasped: "Oh, Holly!" + +Her answer was very soft: "Oh, Val!" + +He had dreamed of this moment, but always in an imperative mood, as the +masterful young lover, and now he felt humble, touched, trembly. He was +afraid to stir off his knees lest he should break the spell; lest, if he +did, she should shrink and deny her own surrender--so tremulous was she +in his grasp, with her eyelids closed and his lips nearing them. Her +eyes opened, seemed to swim a little; he pressed his lips to hers. +Suddenly he sprang up; there had been footsteps, a sort of startled +grunt. He looked round. No one! But the long curtains which barred off +the outer hall were quivering. + +"My God! Who was that?" + +Holly too was on her feet. + +"Jolly, I expect," she whispered. + +Val clenched fists and resolution. + +"All right!" he said, "I don't care a bit now we're engaged," and +striding towards the curtains, he drew them aside. There at the +fireplace in the hall stood Jolly, with his back elaborately turned. Val +went forward. Jolly faced round on him. + +"I beg your pardon for hearing," he said. + +With the best intentions in the world, Val could not help admiring him at +that moment; his face was clear, his voice quiet, he looked somehow +distinguished, as if acting up to principle. + +"Well!" Val said abruptly, "it's nothing to you." + +"Oh!" said Jolly; "you come this way," and he crossed the hall. Val +followed. At the study door he felt a touch on his arm; Holly's voice +said: + +"I'm coming too." + +"No," said Jolly. + +"Yes," said Holly. + +Jolly opened the door, and they all three went in. Once in the little +room, they stood in a sort of triangle on three corners of the worn +Turkey carpet; awkwardly upright, not looking at each other, quite +incapable of seeing any humour in the situation. + +Val broke the silence. + +"Holly and I are engaged.", + +Jolly stepped back and leaned against the lintel of the window. + +"This is our house," he said; "I'm not going to insult you in it. But my +father's away. I'm in charge of my sister. You've taken advantage of +me. + +"I didn't mean to," said Val hotly. + +"I think you did," said Jolly. "If you hadn't meant to, you'd have +spoken to me, or waited for my father to come back." + +"There were reasons," said Val. + +"What reasons?" + +"About my family--I've just told her. I wanted her to know before things +happen." + +Jolly suddenly became less distinguished. + +"You're kids," he said, "and you know you are. + +"I am not a kid," said Val. + +"You are--you're not twenty." + +"Well, what are you?" + +"I am twenty," said Jolly. + +"Only just; anyway, I'm as good a man as you." + +Jolly's face crimsoned, then clouded. Some struggle was evidently taking +place in him; and Val and Holly stared at him, so clearly was that +struggle marked; they could even hear him breathing. Then his face +cleared up and became oddly resolute. + +"We'll see that," he said. "I dare you to do what I'm going to do." + +"Dare me?" + +Jolly smiled. "Yes," he said, "dare you; and I know very well you +won't." + +A stab of misgiving shot through Val; this was riding very blind. + +"I haven't forgotten that you're a fire-eater," said Jolly slowly, "and I +think that's about all you are; or that you called me a pro-Boer." + +Val heard a gasp above the sound of his own hard breathing, and saw +Holly's face poked a little forward, very pale, with big eyes. + +"Yes," went on Jolly with a sort of smile, "we shall soon see. I'm going +to join the Imperial Yeomanry, and I dare you to do the same, Mr. Val +Dartie." + +Val's head jerked on its stem. It was like a blow between the eyes, so +utterly unthought of, so extreme and ugly in the midst of his dreaming; +and he looked at Holly with eyes grown suddenly, touchingly haggard. + +"Sit down!" said Jolly. "Take your time! Think it over well." And he +himself sat down on the arm of his grandfather's chair. + +Val did not sit down; he stood with hands thrust deep into his breeches' +pockets-hands clenched and quivering. The full awfulness of this +decision one way or the other knocked at his mind with double knocks as +of an angry postman. If he did not take that 'dare' he was disgraced in +Holly's eyes, and in the eyes of that young enemy, her brute of a +brother. Yet if he took it, ah! then all would vanish--her face, her +eyes, her hair, her kisses just begun! + +"Take your time," said Jolly again; "I don't want to be unfair." + +And they both looked at Holly. She had recoiled against the bookshelves +reaching to the ceiling; her dark head leaned against Gibbon's Roman +Empire, her eyes in a sort of soft grey agony were fixed on Val. And he, +who had not much gift of insight, had suddenly a gleam of vision. She +would be proud of her brother--that enemy! She would be ashamed of him! +His hands came out of his pockets as if lifted by a spring. + +"All right!" he said. "Done!" + +Holly's face--oh! it was queer! He saw her flush, start forward. He had +done the right thing--her face was shining with wistful admiration. +Jolly stood up and made a little bow as who should say: 'You've passed.' + +"To-morrow, then," he said, "we'll go together." + +Recovering from the impetus which had carried him to that decision, Val +looked at him maliciously from under his lashes. 'All right,' he +thought, 'one to you. I shall have to join--but I'll get back on you +somehow.' And he said with dignity: "I shall be ready." + +"We'll meet at the main Recruiting Office, then," said Jolly, "at twelve +o'clock." And, opening the window, he went out on to the terrace, +conforming to the creed which had made him retire when he surprised them +in the hall. + +The confusion in the mind of Val thus left alone with her for whom he had +paid this sudden price was extreme. The mood of 'showing-off' was still, +however, uppermost. One must do the wretched thing with an air. + +"We shall get plenty of riding and shooting, anyway," he said; "that's +one comfort." And it gave him a sort of grim pleasure to hear the sigh +which seemed to come from the bottom of her heart. + +"Oh! the war'll soon be over," he said; "perhaps we shan't even have to +go out. I don't care, except for you." He would be out of the way of +that beastly divorce. It was an ill-wind! He felt her warm hand slip +into his. Jolly thought he had stopped their loving each other, did he? +He held her tightly round the waist, looking at her softly through his +lashes, smiling to cheer her up, promising to come down and see her soon, +feeling somehow six inches taller and much more in command of her than he +had ever dared feel before. Many times he kissed her before he mounted +and rode back to town. So, swiftly, on the least provocation, does the +possessive instinct flourish and grow. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +DINNER AT JAMES' + +Dinner parties were not now given at James' in Park Lane--to every house +the moment comes when Master or Mistress is no longer 'up to it'; no more +can nine courses be served to twenty mouths above twenty fine white +expanses; nor does the household cat any longer wonder why she is +suddenly shut up. + +So with something like excitement Emily--who at seventy would still have +liked a little feast and fashion now and then--ordered dinner for six +instead of two, herself wrote a number of foreign words on cards, and +arranged the flowers--mimosa from the Riviera, and white Roman hyacinths +not from Rome. There would only be, of course, James and herself, +Soames, Winifred, Val, and Imogen--but she liked to pretend a little and +dally in imagination with the glory of the past. She so dressed herself +that James remarked: + +"What are you putting on that thing for? You'll catch cold." + +But Emily knew that the necks of women are protected by love of shining, +unto fourscore years, and she only answered: + +"Let me put you on one of those dickies I got you, James; then you'll +only have to change your trousers, and put on your velvet coat, and there +you'll be. Val likes you to look nice." + +"Dicky!" said James. "You're always wasting your money on something." + +But he suffered the change to be made till his neck also shone, murmuring +vaguely: + +"He's an extravagant chap, I'm afraid." + +A little brighter in the eye, with rather more colour than usual in his +cheeks, he took his seat in the drawing-room to wait for the sound of the +front-door bell. + +"I've made it a proper dinner party," Emily said comfortably; "I thought +it would be good practice for Imogen--she must get used to it now she's +coming out." + +James uttered an indeterminate sound, thinking of Imogen as she used to +climb about his knee or pull Christmas crackers with him. + +"She'll be pretty," he muttered, "I shouldn't wonder." + +"She is pretty," said Emily; "she ought to make a good match." + +"There you go," murmured James; "she'd much better stay at home and look +after her mother." A second Dartie carrying off his pretty granddaughter +would finish him! He had never quite forgiven Emily for having been as +much taken in by Montague Dartie as he himself had been. + +"Where's Warmson?" he said suddenly. "I should like a glass of Madeira +to-night." + +"There's champagne, James." + +James shook his head. "No body," he said; "I can't get any good out of +it." + +Emily reached forward on her side of the fire and rang the bell. + +"Your master would like a bottle of Madeira opened, Warmson." + +"No, no!" said James, the tips of his ears quivering with vehemence, and +his eyes fixed on an object seen by him alone. "Look here, Warmson, you +go to the inner cellar, and on the middle shelf of the end bin on the +left you'll see seven bottles; take the one in the centre, and don't +shake it. It's the last of the Madeira I had from Mr. Jolyon when we +came in here--never been moved; it ought to be in prime condition still; +but I don't know, I can't tell." + +"Very good, sir," responded the withdrawing Warmson. + +"I was keeping it for our golden wedding," said James suddenly, "but I +shan't live three years at my age." + +"Nonsense, James," said Emily, "don't talk like that." + +"I ought to have got it up myself," murmured James, "he'll shake it as +likely as not." And he sank into silent recollection of long moments +among the open gas-jets, the cobwebs and the good smell of wine-soaked +corks, which had been appetiser to so many feasts. In the wine from that +cellar was written the history of the forty odd years since he had come +to the Park Lane house with his young bride, and of the many generations +of friends and acquaintances who had passed into the unknown; its +depleted bins preserved the record of family festivity--all the +marriages, births, deaths of his kith and kin. And when he was gone +there it would be, and he didn't know what would become of it. It'd be +drunk or spoiled, he shouldn't wonder! + +From that deep reverie the entrance of his son dragged him, followed very +soon by that of Winifred and her two eldest. + +They went down arm-in-arm--James with Imogen, the debutante, because his +pretty grandchild cheered him; Soames with Winifred; Emily with Val, +whose eyes lighting on the oysters brightened. This was to be a proper +full 'blowout' with 'fizz' and port! And he felt in need of it, after +what he had done that day, as yet undivulged. After the first glass or +two it became pleasant to have this bombshell up his sleeve, this piece +of sensational patriotism, or example, rather, of personal daring, to +display--for his pleasure in what he had done for his Queen and Country +was so far entirely personal. He was now a 'blood,' indissolubly +connected with guns and horses; he had a right to swagger--not, of +course, that he was going to. He should just announce it quietly, when +there was a pause. And, glancing down the menu, he determined on 'Bombe +aux fraises' as the proper moment; there would be a certain solemnity +while they were eating that. Once or twice before they reached that rosy +summit of the dinner he was attacked by remembrance that his grandfather +was never told anything! Still, the old boy was drinking Madeira, and +looking jolly fit! Besides, he ought to be pleased at this set-off to the +disgrace of the divorce. The sight of his uncle opposite, too, was a +sharp incentive. He was so far from being a sportsman that it would be +worth a lot to see his face. Besides, better to tell his mother in this +way than privately, which might upset them both! He was sorry for her, +but after all one couldn't be expected to feel much for others when one +had to part from Holly. + +His grandfather's voice travelled to him thinly. "Val, try a little of +the Madeira with your ice. You won't get that up at college." + +Val watched the slow liquid filling his glass, the essential oil of the +old wine glazing the surface; inhaled its aroma, and thought: 'Now for +it!' It was a rich moment. He sipped, and a gentle glow spread in his +veins, already heated. With a rapid look round, he said, "I joined the +Imperial Yeomanry to-day, Granny," and emptied his glass as though +drinking the health of his own act. + +"What!" It was his mother's desolate little word. + +"Young Jolly Forsyte and I went down there together." + +"You didn't sign?" from Uncle Soames. + +"Rather! We go into camp on Monday." + +"I say!" cried Imogen. + +All looked at James. He was leaning forward with his hand behind his +ear. + +"What's that?" he said. "What's he saying? I can't hear." + +Emily reached forward to pat Val's hand. + +"It's only that Val has joined the Yeomanry, James; it's very nice for +him. He'll look his best in uniform." + +"Joined the--rubbish!" came from James, tremulously loud. "You can't see +two yards before your nose. He--he'll have to go out there. Why! he'll +be fighting before he knows where he is." + +Val saw Imogen's eyes admiring him, and his mother still and fashionable +with her handkerchief before her lips. + +Suddenly his uncle spoke. + +"You're under age." + +"I thought of that," smiled Val; "I gave my age as twenty-one." + +He heard his grandmother's admiring, "Well, Val, that was plucky of you;" +was conscious of Warmson deferentially filling his champagne glass; and +of his grandfather's voice moaning: "I don't know what'll become of you +if you go on like this." + +Imogen was patting his shoulder, his uncle looking at him sidelong; only +his mother sat unmoving, till, affected by her stillness, Val said: + +"It's all right, you know; we shall soon have them on the run. I only +hope I shall come in for something." + +He felt elated, sorry, tremendously important all at once. This would +show Uncle Soames, and all the Forsytes, how to be sportsmen. He had +certainly done something heroic and exceptional in giving his age as +twenty-one. + +Emily's voice brought him back to earth. + +"You mustn't have a second glass, James. Warmson!" + +"Won't they be astonished at Timothy's!" burst out Imogen. "I'd give +anything to see their faces. Do you have a sword, Val, or only a +popgun?" + +"What made you?" + +His uncle's voice produced a slight chill in the pit of Val's stomach. +Made him? How answer that? He was grateful for his grandmother's +comfortable: + +"Well, I think it's very plucky of Val. I'm sure he'll make a splendid +soldier; he's just the figure for it. We shall all be proud of him." + +"What had young Jolly Forsyte to do with it? Why did you go together?" +pursued Soames, uncannily relentless. "I thought you weren't friendly +with him?" + +"I'm not," mumbled Val, "but I wasn't going to be beaten by him." He saw +his uncle look at him quite differently, as if approving. His grandfather +was nodding too, his grandmother tossing her head. They all approved of +his not being beaten by that cousin of his. There must be a reason! Val +was dimly conscious of some disturbing point outside his range of vision; +as it might be, the unlocated centre of a cyclone. And, staring at his +uncle's face, he had a quite unaccountable vision of a woman with dark +eyes, gold hair, and a white neck, who smelt nice, and had pretty silken +clothes which he had liked feeling when he was quite small. By Jove, +yes! Aunt Irene! She used to kiss him, and he had bitten her arm once, +playfully, because he liked it--so soft. His grandfather was speaking: + +"What's his father doing?" + +"He's away in Paris," Val said, staring at the very queer expression on +his uncle's face, like--like that of a snarling dog. + +"Artists!" said James. The word coming from the very bottom of his soul, +broke up the dinner. + +Opposite his mother in the cab going home, Val tasted the after-fruits of +heroism, like medlars over-ripe. + +She only said, indeed, that he must go to his tailor's at once and have +his uniform properly made, and not just put up with what they gave him. +But he could feel that she was very much upset. It was on his lips to +console her with the spoken thought that he would be out of the way of +that beastly divorce, but the presence of Imogen, and the knowledge that +his mother would not be out of the way, restrained him. He felt +aggrieved that she did not seem more proud of him. When Imogen had gone +to bed, he risked the emotional. + +"I'm awfully sorry to have to leave you, Mother." + +"Well, I must make the best of it. We must try and get you a commission +as soon as we can; then you won't have to rough it so. Do you know any +drill, Val?" + +"Not a scrap." + +"I hope they won't worry you much. I must take you about to get the +things to-morrow. Good-night; kiss me." + +With that kiss, soft and hot, between his eyes, and those words, 'I hope +they won't worry you much,' in his ears, he sat down to a cigarette, +before a dying fire. The heat was out of him--the glow of cutting a +dash. It was all a damned heart-aching bore. 'I'll be even with that +chap Jolly,' he thought, trailing up the stairs, past the room where his +mother was biting her pillow to smother a sense of desolation which was +trying to make her sob. + +And soon only one of the diners at James' was awake--Soames, in his +bedroom above his father's. + +So that fellow Jolyon was in Paris--what was he doing there? Hanging +round Irene! The last report from Polteed had hinted that there might be +something soon. Could it be this? That fellow, with his beard and his +cursed amused way of speaking--son of the old man who had given him the +nickname 'Man of Property,' and bought the fatal house from him. Soames +had ever resented having had to sell the house at Robin Hill; never +forgiven his uncle for having bought it, or his cousin for living in it. + +Reckless of the cold, he threw his window up and gazed out across the +Park. Bleak and dark the January night; little sound of traffic; a frost +coming; bare trees; a star or two. 'I'll see Polteed to-morrow,' he +thought. 'By God! I'm mad, I think, to want her still. That fellow! +If...? Um! No!' + + + + +CHAPTER X + +DEATH OF THE DOG BALTHASAR + +Jolyon, who had crossed from Calais by night, arrived at Robin Hill on +Sunday morning. He had sent no word beforehand, so walked up from the +station, entering his domain by the coppice gate. Coming to the log seat +fashioned out of an old fallen trunk, he sat down, first laying his +overcoat on it. + +'Lumbago!' he thought; 'that's what love ends in at my time of life!' +And suddenly Irene seemed very near, just as she had been that day of +rambling at Fontainebleau when they had sat on a log to eat their lunch. +Hauntingly near! Odour drawn out of fallen leaves by the pale-filtering +sunlight soaked his nostrils. 'I'm glad it isn't spring,' he thought. +With the scent of sap, and the song of birds, and the bursting of the +blossoms, it would have been unbearable! 'I hope I shall be over it by +then, old fool that I am!' and picking up his coat, he walked on into the +field. He passed the pond and mounted the hill slowly. + +Near the top a hoarse barking greeted him. Up on the lawn above the +fernery he could see his old dog Balthasar. The animal, whose dim eyes +took his master for a stranger, was warning the world against him. +Jolyon gave his special whistle. Even at that distance of a hundred +yards and more he could see the dawning recognition in the obese +brown-white body. The old dog got off his haunches, and his tail, +close-curled over his back, began a feeble, excited fluttering; he came +waddling forward, gathered momentum, and disappeared over the edge of the +fernery. Jolyon expected to meet him at the wicket gate, but Balthasar +was not there, and, rather alarmed, he turned into the fernery. On his +fat side, looking up with eyes already glazing, the old dog lay. + +"What is it, my poor old man?" cried Jolyon. Balthasar's curled and +fluffy tail just moved; his filming eyes seemed saying: "I can't get up, +master, but I'm glad to see you." + +Jolyon knelt down; his eyes, very dimmed, could hardly see the slowly +ceasing heave of the dog's side. He raised the head a little--very +heavy. + +"What is it, dear man? Where are you hurt?" The tail fluttered once; the +eyes lost the look of life. Jolyon passed his hands all over the inert +warm bulk. There was nothing--the heart had simply failed in that obese +body from the emotion of his master's return. Jolyon could feel the +muzzle, where a few whitish bristles grew, cooling already against his +lips. He stayed for some minutes kneeling; with his hand beneath the +stiffening head. The body was very heavy when he bore it to the top of +the field; leaves had drifted there, and he strewed it with a covering of +them; there was no wind, and they would keep him from curious eyes until +the afternoon. 'I'll bury him myself,' he thought. Eighteen years had +gone since he first went into the St. John's Wood house with that tiny +puppy in his pocket. Strange that the old dog should die just now! Was +it an omen? He turned at the gate to look back at that russet mound, +then went slowly towards the house, very choky in the throat. + +June was at home; she had come down hotfoot on hearing the news of +Jolly's enlistment. His patriotism had conquered her feeling for the +Boers. The atmosphere of his house was strange and pocketty when Jolyon +came in and told them of the dog Balthasar's death. The news had a +unifying effect. A link with the past had snapped--the dog Balthasar! +Two of them could remember nothing before his day; to June he represented +the last years of her grandfather; to Jolyon that life of domestic stress +and aesthetic struggle before he came again into the kingdom of his +father's love and wealth! And he was gone! + +In the afternoon he and Jolly took picks and spades and went out to the +field. They chose a spot close to the russet mound, so that they need +not carry him far, and, carefully cutting off the surface turf, began to +dig. They dug in silence for ten minutes, and then rested. + +"Well, old man," said Jolyon, "so you thought you ought?" + +"Yes," answered Jolly; "I don't want to a bit, of course." + +How exactly those words represented Jolyon's own state of mind + +"I admire you for it, old boy. I don't believe I should have done it at +your age--too much of a Forsyte, I'm afraid. But I suppose the type gets +thinner with each generation. Your son, if you have one, may be a pure +altruist; who knows?" + +"He won't be like me, then, Dad; I'm beastly selfish." + +"No, my dear, that you clearly are not." Jolly shook his head, and they +dug again. + +"Strange life a dog's," said Jolyon suddenly: "The only four-footer with +rudiments of altruism and a sense of God!" + +Jolly looked at his father. + +"Do you believe in God, Dad? I've never known." + +At so searching a question from one to whom it was impossible to make a +light reply, Jolyon stood for a moment feeling his back tried by the +digging. + +"What do you mean by God?" he said; "there are two irreconcilable ideas +of God. There's the Unknowable Creative Principle--one believes in That. +And there's the Sum of altruism in man--naturally one believes in That." + +"I see. That leaves out Christ, doesn't it?" + +Jolyon stared. Christ, the link between those two ideas! Out of the +mouth of babes! Here was orthodoxy scientifically explained at last! +The sublime poem of the Christ life was man's attempt to join those two +irreconcilable conceptions of God. And since the Sum of human altruism +was as much a part of the Unknowable Creative Principle as anything else +in Nature and the Universe, a worse link might have been chosen after +all! Funny--how one went through life without seeing it in that sort of +way! + +"What do you think, old man?" he said. + +Jolly frowned. "Of course, my first year we talked a good bit about that +sort of thing. But in the second year one gives it up; I don't know +why--it's awfully interesting." + +Jolyon remembered that he also had talked a good deal about it his first +year at Cambridge, and given it up in his second. + +"I suppose," said Jolly, "it's the second God, you mean, that old +Balthasar had a sense of." + +"Yes, or he would never have burst his poor old heart because of +something outside himself." + +"But wasn't that just selfish emotion, really?" + +Jolyon shook his head. "No, dogs are not pure Forsytes, they love +something outside themselves." + +Jolly smiled. + +"Well, I think I'm one," he said. "You know, I only enlisted because I +dared Val Dartie to." + +"But why?" + +"We bar each other," said Jolly shortly. + +"Ah!" muttered Jolyon. So the feud went on, unto the third +generation--this modern feud which had no overt expression? + +'Shall I tell the boy about it?' he thought. But to what end--if he had +to stop short of his own part? + +And Jolly thought: 'It's for Holly to let him know about that chap. If +she doesn't, it means she doesn't want him told, and I should be +sneaking. Anyway, I've stopped it. I'd better leave well alone!' + +So they dug on in silence, till Jolyon said: + +"Now, old man, I think it's big enough." And, resting on their spades, +they gazed down into the hole where a few leaves had drifted already on a +sunset wind. + +"I can't bear this part of it," said Jolyon suddenly. + +"Let me do it, Dad. He never cared much for me." + +Jolyon shook his head. + +"We'll lift him very gently, leaves and all. I'd rather not see him +again. I'll take his head. Now!" + +With extreme care they raised the old dog's body, whose faded tan and +white showed here and there under the leaves stirred by the wind. They +laid it, heavy, cold, and unresponsive, in the grave, and Jolly spread +more leaves over it, while Jolyon, deeply afraid to show emotion before +his son, began quickly shovelling the earth on to that still shape. +There went the past! If only there were a joyful future to look forward +to! It was like stamping down earth on one's own life. They replaced +the turf carefully on the smooth little mound, and, grateful that they +had spared each other's feelings, returned to the house arm-in-arm. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +TIMOTHY STAYS THE ROT + +On Forsyte 'Change news of the enlistment spread fast, together with the +report that June, not to be outdone, was going to become a Red Cross +nurse. These events were so extreme, so subversive of pure Forsyteism, +as to have a binding effect upon the family, and Timothy's was thronged +next Sunday afternoon by members trying to find out what they thought +about it all, and exchange with each other a sense of family credit. +Giles and Jesse Hayman would no longer defend the coast but go to South +Africa quite soon; Jolly and Val would be following in April; as to +June--well, you never knew what she would really do. + +The retirement from Spion Kop and the absence of any good news from the +seat of war imparted an air of reality to all this, clinched in startling +fashion by Timothy. The youngest of the old Forsytes--scarcely eighty, +in fact popularly supposed to resemble their father, 'Superior Dosset,' +even in his best-known characteristic of drinking Sherry--had been +invisible for so many years that he was almost mythical. A long +generation had elapsed since the risks of a publisher's business had +worked on his nerves at the age of forty, so that he had got out with a +mere thirty-five thousand pounds in the world, and started to make his +living by careful investment. Putting by every year, at compound +interest, he had doubled his capital in forty years without having once +known what it was like to shake in his shoes over money matters. He was +now putting aside some two thousand a year, and, with the care he was +taking of himself, expected, so Aunt Hester said, to double his capital +again before he died. What he would do with it then, with his sisters +dead and himself dead, was often mockingly queried by free spirits such +as Francie, Euphemia, or young Nicholas' second, Christopher, whose +spirit was so free that he had actually said he was going on the stage. +All admitted, however, that this was best known to Timothy himself, and +possibly to Soames, who never divulged a secret. + +Those few Forsytes who had seen him reported a man of thick and robust +appearance, not very tall, with a brown-red complexion, grey hair, and +little of the refinement of feature with which most of the Forsytes had +been endowed by 'Superior Dosset's' wife, a woman of some beauty and a +gentle temperament. It was known that he had taken surprising interest +in the war, sticking flags into a map ever since it began, and there was +uneasiness as to what would happen if the English were driven into the +sea, when it would be almost impossible for him to put the flags in the +right places. As to his knowledge of family movements or his views about +them, little was known, save that Aunt Hester was always declaring that +he was very upset. It was, then, in the nature of a portent when +Forsytes, arriving on the Sunday after the evacuation of Spion Kop, +became conscious, one after the other, of a presence seated in the only +really comfortable armchair, back to the light, concealing the lower part +of his face with a large hand, and were greeted by the awed voice of Aunt +Hester: + +"Your Uncle Timothy, my dear." + +Timothy's greeting to them all was somewhat identical; and rather, as it +were, passed over by him than expressed: + +"How de do? How de do? 'Xcuse me gettin' up!" + +Francie was present, and Eustace had come in his car; Winifred had +brought Imogen, breaking the ice of the restitution proceedings with the +warmth of family appreciation at Val's enlistment; and Marian Tweetyman +with the last news of Giles and Jesse. These with Aunt Juley and Hester, +young Nicholas, Euphemia, and--of all people!--George, who had come with +Eustace in the car, constituted an assembly worthy of the family's +palmiest days. There was not one chair vacant in the whole of the little +drawing-room, and anxiety was felt lest someone else should arrive. + +The constraint caused by Timothy's presence having worn off a little, +conversation took a military turn. George asked Aunt Juley when she was +going out with the Red Cross, almost reducing her to a state of gaiety; +whereon he turned to Nicholas and said: + +"Young Nick's a warrior bold, isn't he? When's he going to don the wild +khaki?" + +Young Nicholas, smiling with a sort of sweet deprecation, intimated that +of course his mother was very anxious. + +"The Dromios are off, I hear," said George, turning to Marian Tweetyman; +"we shall all be there soon. En avant, the Forsytes! Roll, bowl, or +pitch! Who's for a cooler?" + +Aunt Juley gurgled, George was so droll! Should Hester get Timothy's +map? Then he could show them all where they were. + +At a sound from Timothy, interpreted as assent, Aunt Hester left the +room. + +George pursued his image of the Forsyte advance, addressing Timothy as +Field Marshal; and Imogen, whom he had noted at once for 'a pretty +filly,'--as Vivandiere; and holding his top hat between his knees, he +began to beat it with imaginary drumsticks. The reception accorded to +his fantasy was mixed. All laughed--George was licensed; but all felt +that the family was being 'rotted'; and this seemed to them unnatural, +now that it was going to give five of its members to the service of the +Queen. George might go too far; and there was relief when he got up, +offered his arm to Aunt Juley, marched up to Timothy, saluted him, kissed +his aunt with mock passion, said, "Oh! what a treat, dear papa! Come on, +Eustace!" and walked out, followed by the grave and fastidious Eustace, +who had never smiled. + +Aunt Juley's bewildered, "Fancy not waiting for the map! You mustn't +mind him, Timothy. He's so droll!" broke the hush, and Timothy removed +the hand from his mouth. + +"I don't know what things are comin' to," he was heard to say. "What's +all this about goin' out there? That's not the way to beat those Boers." + +Francie alone had the hardihood to observe: "What is, then, Uncle +Timothy?" + +"All this new-fangled volunteerin' and expense--lettin' money out of the +country." + +Just then Aunt Hester brought in the map, handling it like a baby with +eruptions. With the assistance of Euphemia it was laid on the piano, a +small Colwood grand, last played on, it was believed, the summer before +Aunt Ann died, thirteen years ago. Timothy rose. He walked over to the +piano, and stood looking at his map while they all gathered round. + +"There you are," he said; "that's the position up to date; and very poor +it is. H'm!" + +"Yes," said Francie, greatly daring, "but how are you going to alter it, +Uncle Timothy, without more men?" + +"Men!" said Timothy; "you don't want men--wastin' the country's money. +You want a Napoleon, he'd settle it in a month." + +"But if you haven't got him, Uncle Timothy?" + +"That's their business," replied Timothy. "What have we kept the Army up +for--to eat their heads off in time of peace! They ought to be ashamed +of themselves, comin' on the country to help them like this! Let every +man stick to his business, and we shall get on." + +And looking round him, he added almost angrily: + +"Volunteerin', indeed! Throwin' good money after bad! We must save! +Conserve energy that's the only way." And with a prolonged sound, not +quite a sniff and not quite a snort, he trod on Euphemia's toe, and went +out, leaving a sensation and a faint scent of barley-sugar behind him. + +The effect of something said with conviction by one who has evidently +made a sacrifice to say it is ever considerable. And the eight Forsytes +left behind, all women except young Nicholas, were silent for a moment +round the map. Then Francie said: + +"Really, I think he's right, you know. After all, what is the Army for? +They ought to have known. It's only encouraging them." + +"My dear!" cried Aunt Juley, "but they've been so progressive. Think of +their giving up their scarlet. They were always so proud of it. And now +they all look like convicts. Hester and I were saying only yesterday we +were sure they must feel it very much. Fancy what the Iron Duke would +have said!" + +"The new colour's very smart," said Winifred; "Val looks quite nice in +his." + +Aunt Juley sighed. + +"I do so wonder what Jolyon's boy is like. To think we've never seen +him! His father must be so proud of him." + +"His father's in Paris," said Winifred. + +Aunt Hester's shoulder was seen to mount suddenly, as if to ward off her +sister's next remark, for Juley's crumpled cheeks had gushed. + +"We had dear little Mrs. MacAnder here yesterday, just back from Paris. +And whom d'you think she saw there in the street? You'll never guess." + +"We shan't try, Auntie," said Euphemia. + +"Irene! Imagine! After all this time; walking with a fair beard...." + +"Auntie! you'll kill me! A fair beard...." + +"I was going to say," said Aunt Juley severely, "a fair-bearded +gentleman. And not a day older; she was always so pretty," she added, +with a sort of lingering apology. + +"Oh! tell us about her, Auntie," cried Imogen; "I can just remember her. +She's the skeleton in the family cupboard, isn't she? And they're such +fun." + +Aunt Hester sat down. Really, Juley had done it now! + +"She wasn't much of a skeleton as I remember her," murmured Euphemia, +"extremely well-covered." + +"My dear!" said Aunt Juley, "what a peculiar way of putting it--not very +nice." + +"No, but what was she like?" persisted Imogen. + +"I'll tell you, my child," said Francie; "a kind of modern Venus, very +well-dressed." + +Euphemia said sharply: "Venus was never dressed, and she had blue eyes of +melting sapphire." + +At this juncture Nicholas took his leave. + +"Mrs. Nick is awfully strict," said Francie with a laugh. + +"She has six children," said Aunt Juley; "it's very proper she should be +careful." + +"Was Uncle Soames awfully fond of her?" pursued the inexorable Imogen, +moving her dark luscious eyes from face to face. + +Aunt Hester made a gesture of despair, just as Aunt Juley answered: + +"Yes, your Uncle Soames was very much attached to her." + +"I suppose she ran off with someone?" + +"No, certainly not; that is--not precisely.' + +"What did she do, then, Auntie?" + +"Come along, Imogen," said Winifred, "we must be getting back." + +But Aunt Juley interjected resolutely: "She--she didn't behave at all +well." + +"Oh, bother!" cried Imogen; "that's as far as I ever get." + +"Well, my dear," said Francie, "she had a love affair which ended with +the young man's death; and then she left your uncle. I always rather +liked her." + +"She used to give me chocolates," murmured Imogen, "and smell nice." + +"Of course!" remarked Euphemia. + +"Not of course at all!" replied Francie, who used a particularly +expensive essence of gillyflower herself. + +"I can't think what we are about," said Aunt Juley, raising her hands, +"talking of such things!" + +"Was she divorced?" asked Imogen from the door. + +"Certainly not," cried Aunt Juley; "that is--certainly not." + +A sound was heard over by the far door. Timothy had re-entered the back +drawing-room. "I've come for my map," he said. "Who's been divorced?" + +"No one, Uncle," replied Francie with perfect truth. + +Timothy took his map off the piano. + +"Don't let's have anything of that sort in the family," he said. "All +this enlistin's bad enough. The country's breakin' up; I don't know what +we're comin' to." He shook a thick finger at the room: "Too many women +nowadays, and they don't know what they want." + +So saying, he grasped the map firmly with both hands, and went out as if +afraid of being answered. + +The seven women whom he had addressed broke into a subdued murmur, out of +which emerged Francie's, "Really, the Forsytes!" and Aunt Juley's: "He +must have his feet in mustard and hot water to-night, Hester; will you +tell Jane? The blood has gone to his head again, I'm afraid...." + +That evening, when she and Hester were sitting alone after dinner, she +dropped a stitch in her crochet, and looked up: + +"Hester, I can't think where I've heard that dear Soames wants Irene to +come back to him again. Who was it told us that George had made a funny +drawing of him with the words, 'He won't be happy till he gets it'?" + +"Eustace," answered Aunt Hester from behind The Times; "he had it in his +pocket, but he wouldn't show it us." + +Aunt Juley was silent, ruminating. The clock ticked, The Times crackled, +the fire sent forth its rustling purr. Aunt Juley dropped another +stitch. + +"Hester," she said, "I have had such a dreadful thought." + +"Then don't tell me," said Aunt Hester quickly. + +"Oh! but I must. You can't think how dreadful!" Her voice sank to a +whisper: + +"Jolyon--Jolyon, they say, has a--has a fair beard, now." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +PROGRESS OF THE CHASE + +Two days after the dinner at James', Mr. Polteed provided Soames with +food for thought. + +"A gentleman," he said, consulting the key concealed in his left hand, +"47 as we say, has been paying marked attention to 17 during the last +month in Paris. But at present there seems to have been nothing very +conclusive. The meetings have all been in public places, without +concealment--restaurants, the Opera, the Comique, the Louvre, Luxembourg +Gardens, lounge of the hotel, and so forth. She has not yet been traced +to his rooms, nor vice versa. They went to Fontainebleau--but nothing of +value. In short, the situation is promising, but requires patience." +And, looking up suddenly, he added: + +"One rather curious point--47 has the same name as--er--31!" + +'The fellow knows I'm her husband,' thought Soames. + +"Christian name--an odd one--Jolyon," continued Mr. Polteed. "We know +his address in Paris and his residence here. We don't wish, of course, +to be running a wrong hare." + +"Go on with it, but be careful," said Soames doggedly. + +Instinctive certainty that this detective fellow had fathomed his secret +made him all the more reticent. + +"Excuse me," said Mr. Polteed, "I'll just see if there's anything fresh +in." + +He returned with some letters. Relocking the door, he glanced at the +envelopes. + +"Yes, here's a personal one from 19 to myself." + +"Well?" said Soames. + + "Um!" said Mr. Polteed, "she says: '47 left for England to-day. +Address on his baggage: Robin Hill. Parted from 17 in Louvre +Gallery at 3.30; nothing very striking. Thought it best to stay +and continue observation of 17. You will deal with 47 in England +if you think desirable, no doubt.'" And Mr. Polteed lifted an +unprofessional glance on Soames, as though he might be storing +material for a book on human nature after he had gone out of +business. "Very intelligent woman, 19, and a wonderful make-up. +Not cheap, but earns her money well. There's no suspicion of being +shadowed so far. But after a time, as you know, sensitive people +are liable to get the feeling of it, without anything definite to +go on. I should rather advise letting-up on 17, and keeping an eye +on 47. We can't get at correspondence without great risk. I +hardly advise that at this stage. But you can tell your client +that it's looking up very well." And again his narrowed eyes +gleamed at his taciturn customer. + +"No," said Soames suddenly, "I prefer that you should keep the watch +going discreetly in Paris, and not concern yourself with this end." + +"Very well," replied Mr. Polteed, "we can do it." + +"What--what is the manner between them?" + +"I'll read you what she says," said Mr. Polteed, unlocking a bureau +drawer and taking out a file of papers; "she sums it up somewhere +confidentially. Yes, here it is! '17 very attractive--conclude 47, +longer in the tooth' (slang for age, you know)--'distinctly gone--waiting +his time--17 perhaps holding off for terms, impossible to say without +knowing more. But inclined to think on the whole--doesn't know her +mind--likely to act on impulse some day. Both have style.'" + +"What does that mean?" said Soames between close lips. + +"Well," murmured Mr. Polteed with a smile, showing many white teeth, "an +expression we use. In other words, it's not likely to be a weekend +business--they'll come together seriously or not at all." + +"H'm!" muttered Soames, "that's all, is it?" + +"Yes," said Mr. Polteed, "but quite promising." + +'Spider!' thought Soames. "Good-day!" + +He walked into the Green Park that he might cross to Victoria Station and +take the Underground into the City. For so late in January it was warm; +sunlight, through the haze, sparkled on the frosty grass--an illumined +cobweb of a day. + +Little spiders--and great spiders! And the greatest spinner of all, his +own tenacity, for ever wrapping its cocoon of threads round any clear way +out. What was that fellow hanging round Irene for? Was it really as +Polteed suggested? Or was Jolyon but taking compassion on her +loneliness, as he would call it--sentimental radical chap that he had +always been? If it were, indeed, as Polteed hinted! Soames stood still. +It could not be! The fellow was seven years older than himself, no +better looking! No richer! What attraction had he? + +'Besides, he's come back,' he thought; 'that doesn't look---I'll go and +see him!' and, taking out a card, he wrote: + +"If you can spare half an hour some afternoon this week, I shall be at +the Connoisseurs any day between 5.30 and 6, or I could come to the Hotch +Potch if you prefer it. I want to see you.--S. F." + +He walked up St. James's Street and confided it to the porter at the +Hotch Potch. + +"Give Mr. Jolyon Forsyte this as soon as he comes in," he said, and took +one of the new motor cabs into the City.... + +Jolyon received that card the same afternoon, and turned his face towards +the Connoisseurs. What did Soames want now? Had he got wind of Paris? +And stepping across St. James's Street, he determined to make no secret +of his visit. 'But it won't do,' he thought, 'to let him know she's +there, unless he knows already.' In this complicated state of mind he was +conducted to where Soames was drinking tea in a small bay-window. + +"No tea, thanks," said Jolyon, "but I'll go on smoking if I may." + +The curtains were not yet drawn, though the lamps outside were lighted; +the two cousins sat waiting on each other. + +"You've been in Paris, I hear," said Soames at last. + +"Yes; just back." + +"Young Val told me; he and your boy are going off, then?" Jolyon nodded. + +"You didn't happen to see Irene, I suppose. It appears she's abroad +somewhere." + +Jolyon wreathed himself in smoke before he answered: "Yes, I saw her." + +"How was she?" + +"Very well." + +There was another silence; then Soames roused himself in his chair. + +"When I saw you last," he said, "I was in two minds. We talked, and you +expressed your opinion. I don't wish to reopen that discussion. I only +wanted to say this: My position with her is extremely difficult. I don't +want you to go using your influence against me. What happened is a very +long time ago. I'm going to ask her to let bygones be bygones." + +"You have asked her, you know," murmured Jolyon. + +"The idea was new to her then; it came as a shock. But the more she +thinks of it, the more she must see that it's the only way out for both +of us." + +"That's not my impression of her state of mind," said Jolyon with +particular calm. "And, forgive my saying, you misconceive the matter if +you think reason comes into it at all." + +He saw his cousin's pale face grow paler--he had used, without knowing +it, Irene's own words. + +"Thanks," muttered Soames, "but I see things perhaps more plainly than +you think. I only want to be sure that you won't try to influence her +against me." + +"I don't know what makes you think I have any influence," said Jolyon; +"but if I have I'm bound to use it in the direction of what I think is +her happiness. I am what they call a 'feminist,' I believe." + +"Feminist!" repeated Soames, as if seeking to gain time. "Does that mean +that you're against me?" + +"Bluntly," said Jolyon, "I'm against any woman living with any man whom +she definitely dislikes. It appears to me rotten." + +"And I suppose each time you see her you put your opinions into her +mind." + +"I am not likely to be seeing her." + +"Not going back to Paris?" + +"Not so far as I know," said Jolyon, conscious of the intent watchfulness +in Soames' face. + +"Well, that's all I had to say. Anyone who comes between man and wife, +you know, incurs heavy responsibility." + +Jolyon rose and made him a slight bow. + +"Good-bye," he said, and, without offering to shake hands, moved away, +leaving Soames staring after him. 'We Forsytes,' thought Jolyon, hailing +a cab, 'are very civilised. With simpler folk that might have come to a +row. If it weren't for my boy going to the war....' The war! A gust of +his old doubt swept over him. A precious war! Domination of peoples or +of women! Attempts to master and possess those who did not want you! +The negation of gentle decency! Possession, vested rights; and anyone +'agin' 'em--outcast! 'Thank Heaven!' he thought, 'I always felt "agin" +'em, anyway!' Yes! Even before his first disastrous marriage he could +remember fuming over the bludgeoning of Ireland, or the matrimonial suits +of women trying to be free of men they loathed. Parsons would have it +that freedom of soul and body were quite different things! Pernicious +doctrine! Body and soul could not thus be separated. Free will was the +strength of any tie, and not its weakness. 'I ought to have told +Soames,' he thought, 'that I think him comic. Ah! but he's tragic, too!' +Was there anything, indeed, more tragic in the world than a man enslaved +by his own possessive instinct, who couldn't see the sky for it, or even +enter fully into what another person felt! 'I must write and warn her,' +he thought; 'he's going to have another try.' And all the way home to +Robin Hill he rebelled at the strength of that duty to his son which +prevented him from posting back to Paris.... + +But Soames sat long in his chair, the prey of a no less gnawing ache--a +jealous ache, as if it had been revealed to him that this fellow held +precedence of himself, and had spun fresh threads of resistance to his +way out. 'Does that mean that you're against me?' he had got nothing out +of that disingenuous question. Feminist! Phrasey fellow! 'I mustn't +rush things,' he thought. 'I have some breathing space; he's not going +back to Paris, unless he was lying. I'll let the spring come!' Though +how the spring could serve him, save by adding to his ache, he could not +tell. And gazing down into the street, where figures were passing from +pool to pool of the light from the high lamps, he thought: 'Nothing seems +any good--nothing seems worth while. I'm loney--that's the trouble.' + +He closed his eyes; and at once he seemed to see Irene, in a dark street +below a church--passing, turning her neck so that he caught the gleam of +her eyes and her white forehead under a little dark hat, which had gold +spangles on it and a veil hanging down behind. He opened his eyes--so +vividly he had seen her! A woman was passing below, but not she! Oh no, +there was nothing there! + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +'HERE WE ARE AGAIN!' + +Imogen's frocks for her first season exercised the judgment of her mother +and the purse of her grandfather all through the month of March. With +Forsyte tenacity Winifred quested for perfection. It took her mind off +the slowly approaching rite which would give her a freedom but doubtfully +desired; took her mind, too, off her boy and his fast approaching +departure for a war from which the news remained disquieting. Like bees +busy on summer flowers, or bright gadflies hovering and darting over +spiky autumn blossoms, she and her 'little daughter,' tall nearly as +herself and with a bust measurement not far inferior, hovered in the +shops of Regent Street, the establishments of Hanover Square and of Bond +Street, lost in consideration and the feel of fabrics. Dozens of young +women of striking deportment and peculiar gait paraded before Winifred +and Imogen, draped in 'creations.' The models--'Very new, modom; quite +the latest thing--' which those two reluctantly turned down, would have +filled a museum; the models which they were obliged to have nearly +emptied James' bank. It was no good doing things by halves, Winifred +felt, in view of the need for making this first and sole untarnished +season a conspicuous success. Their patience in trying the patience of +those impersonal creatures who swam about before them could alone have +been displayed by such as were moved by faith. It was for Winifred a +long prostration before her dear goddess Fashion, fervent as a Catholic +might make before the Virgin; for Imogen an experience by no means too +unpleasant--she often looked so nice, and flattery was implicit +everywhere: in a word it was 'amusing.' + +On the afternoon of the 20th of March, having, as it were, gutted +Skywards, they had sought refreshment over the way at Caramel and +Baker's, and, stored with chocolate frothed at the top with cream, turned +homewards through Berkeley Square of an evening touched with spring. +Opening the door--freshly painted a light olive-green; nothing neglected +that year to give Imogen a good send-off--Winifred passed towards the +silver basket to see if anyone had called, and suddenly her nostrils +twitched. What was that scent? + +Imogen had taken up a novel sent from the library, and stood absorbed. +Rather sharply, because of the queer feeling in her breast, Winifred +said: + +"Take that up, dear, and have a rest before dinner." + +Imogen, still reading, passed up the stairs. Winifred heard the door of +her room slammed to, and drew a long savouring breath. Was it spring +tickling her senses--whipping up nostalgia for her 'clown,' against all +wisdom and outraged virtue? A male scent! A faint reek of cigars and +lavender-water not smelt since that early autumn night six months ago, +when she had called him 'the limit.' Whence came it, or was it ghost of +scent--sheer emanation from memory? She looked round her. Nothing--not +a thing, no tiniest disturbance of her hall, nor of the diningroom. A +little day-dream of a scent--illusory, saddening, silly! In the silver +basket were new cards, two with 'Mr. and Mrs. Polegate Thom,' and one +with 'Mr. Polegate Thom' thereon; she sniffed them, but they smelled +severe. 'I must be tired,' she thought, 'I'll go and lie down.' Upstairs +the drawing-room was darkened, waiting for some hand to give it evening +light; and she passed on up to her bedroom. This, too, was +half-curtained and dim, for it was six o'clock. Winifred threw off her +coat--that scent again!--then stood, as if shot, transfixed against the +bed-rail. Something dark had risen from the sofa in the far corner. A +word of horror--in her family--escaped her: "God!" + +"It's I--Monty," said a voice. + +Clutching the bed-rail, Winifred reached up and turned the switch of the +light hanging above her dressing-table. He appeared just on the rim of +the light's circumference, emblazoned from the absence of his watch-chain +down to boots neat and sooty brown, but--yes!--split at the toecap. His +chest and face were shadowy. Surely he was thin--or was it a trick of +the light? He advanced, lighted now from toe-cap to the top of his dark +head--surely a little grizzled! His complexion had darkened, sallowed; +his black moustache had lost boldness, become sardonic; there were lines +which she did not know about his face. There was no pin in his tie. His +suit--ah!--she knew that--but how unpressed, unglossy! She stared again +at the toe-cap of his boot. Something big and relentless had been 'at +him,' had turned and twisted, raked and scraped him. And she stayed, not +speaking, motionless, staring at that crack across the toe. + +"Well!" he said, "I got the order. I'm back." + +Winifred's bosom began to heave. The nostalgia for her husband which had +rushed up with that scent was struggling with a deeper jealousy than any +she had felt yet. There he was--a dark, and as if harried, shadow of his +sleek and brazen self! What force had done this to him--squeezed him +like an orange to its dry rind! That woman! + +"I'm back," he said again. "I've had a beastly time. By God! I came +steerage. I've got nothing but what I stand up in, and that bag." + +"And who has the rest?" cried Winifred, suddenly alive. "How dared you +come? You knew it was just for divorce that you got that order to come +back. Don't touch me!" + +They held each to the rail of the big bed where they had spent so many +years of nights together. Many times, yes--many times she had wanted him +back. But now that he had come she was filled with this cold and deadly +resentment. He put his hand up to his moustache; but did not frizz and +twist it in the old familiar way, he just pulled it downwards. + +"Gad!" he said: "If you knew the time I've had!" + +"I'm glad I don't!" + +"Are the kids all right?" + +Winifred nodded. "How did you get in?" + +"With my key." + +"Then the maids don't know. You can't stay here, Monty." + +He uttered a little sardonic laugh. + +"Where then?" + +"Anywhere." + +"Well, look at me! That--that damned...." + +"If you mention her," cried Winifred, "I go straight out to Park Lane and +I don't come back." + +Suddenly he did a simple thing, but so uncharacteristic that it moved +her. He shut his eyes. It was as if he had said: 'All right! I'm dead +to the world!' + +"You can have a room for the night," she said; "your things are still +here. Only Imogen is at home." + +He leaned back against the bed-rail. "Well, it's in your hands," and his +own made a writhing movement. "I've been through it. You needn't hit +too hard--it isn't worth while. I've been frightened; I've been +frightened, Freddie." + +That old pet name, disused for years and years, sent a shiver through +Winifred. + +'What am I to do with him?' she thought. 'What in God's name am I to do +with him?' + +"Got a cigarette?" + +She gave him one from a little box she kept up there for when she +couldn't sleep at night, and lighted it. With that action the +matter-of-fact side of her nature came to life again. + +"Go and have a hot bath. I'll put some clothes out for you in the +dressing-room. We can talk later." + +He nodded, and fixed his eyes on her--they looked half-dead, or was it +that the folds in the lids had become heavier? + +'He's not the same,' she thought. He would never be quite the same +again! But what would he be? + +"All right!" he said, and went towards the door. He even moved +differently, like a man who has lost illusion and doubts whether it is +worth while to move at all. + +When he was gone, and she heard the water in the bath running, she put +out a complete set of garments on the bed in his dressing-room, then went +downstairs and fetched up the biscuit box and whisky. Putting on her coat +again, and listening a moment at the bathroom door, she went down and +out. In the street she hesitated. Past seven o'clock! Would Soames be +at his Club or at Park Lane? She turned towards the latter. Back! + +Soames had always feared it--she had sometimes hoped it.... Back! So +like him--clown that he was--with this: 'Here we are again!' to make +fools of them all--of the Law, of Soames, of herself! + +Yet to have done with the Law, not to have that murky cloud hanging over +her and the children! What a relief! Ah! but how to accept his return? +That 'woman' had ravaged him, taken from him passion such as he had never +bestowed on herself, such as she had not thought him capable of. There +was the sting! That selfish, blatant 'clown' of hers, whom she herself +had never really stirred, had been swept and ungarnished by another +woman! Insulting! Too insulting! Not right, not decent to take him +back! And yet she had asked for him; the Law perhaps would make her now! +He was as much her husband as ever--she had put herself out of court! +And all he wanted, no doubt, was money--to keep him in cigars and +lavender-water! That scent! 'After all, I'm not old,' she thought, 'not +old yet!' But that woman who had reduced him to those words: 'I've been +through it. I've been frightened--frightened, Freddie!' She neared her +father's house, driven this way and that, while all the time the Forsyte +undertow was drawing her to deep conclusion that after all he was her +property, to be held against a robbing world. And so she came to James'. + +"Mr. Soames? In his room? I'll go up; don't say I'm here." + +Her brother was dressing. She found him before a mirror, tying a black +bow with an air of despising its ends. + +"Hullo!" he said, contemplating her in the glass; "what's wrong?" + +"Monty!" said Winifred stonily. + +Soames spun round. "What!" + +"Back!" + +"Hoist," muttered Soames, "with our own petard. Why the deuce didn't you +let me try cruelty? I always knew it was too much risk this way." + +"Oh! Don't talk about that! What shall I do?" + +Soames answered, with a deep, deep sound. + +"Well?" said Winifred impatiently. + +"What has he to say for himself?" + +"Nothing. One of his boots is split across the toe." + +Soames stared at her. + +"Ah!" he said, "of course! On his beam ends. So--it begins again! +This'll about finish father." + +"Can't we keep it from him?" + +"Impossible. He has an uncanny flair for anything that's worrying." + +And he brooded, with fingers hooked into his blue silk braces. "There +ought to be some way in law," he muttered, "to make him safe." + +"No," cried Winifred, "I won't be made a fool of again; I'd sooner put up +with him." + +The two stared at each other. Their hearts were full of feeling, but +they could give it no expression--Forsytes that they were. + +"Where did you leave him?" + +"In the bath," and Winifred gave a little bitter laugh. "The only thing +he's brought back is lavender-water." + +"Steady!" said Soames, "you're thoroughly upset. I'll go back with you." + +"What's the use?" + +"We ought to make terms with him." + +"Terms! It'll always be the same. When he recovers--cards and betting, +drink and ....!" She was silent, remembering the look on her husband's +face. The burnt child--the burnt child. Perhaps...! + +"Recovers?" replied Soames: "Is he ill?" + +"No; burnt out; that's all." + +Soames took his waistcoat from a chair and put it on, he took his coat +and got into it, he scented his handkerchief with eau-de-Cologne, +threaded his watch-chain, and said: "We haven't any luck." + +And in the midst of her own trouble Winifred was sorry for him, as if in +that little saying he had revealed deep trouble of his own. + +"I'd like to see mother," she said. + +"She'll be with father in their room. Come down quietly to the study. +I'll get her." + +Winifred stole down to the little dark study, chiefly remarkable for a +Canaletto too doubtful to be placed elsewhere, and a fine collection of +Law Reports unopened for many years. Here she stood, with her back to +maroon-coloured curtains close-drawn, staring at the empty grate, till +her mother came in followed by Soames. + +"Oh! my poor dear!" said Emily: "How miserable you look in here! This is +too bad of him, really!" + +As a family they had so guarded themselves from the expression of all +unfashionable emotion that it was impossible to go up and give her +daughter a good hug. But there was comfort in her cushioned voice, and +her still dimpled shoulders under some rare black lace. Summoning pride +and the desire not to distress her mother, Winifred said in her most +off-hand voice: + +"It's all right, Mother; no good fussing." + +"I don't see," said Emily, looking at Soames, "why Winifred shouldn't +tell him that she'll prosecute him if he doesn't keep off the premises. +He took her pearls; and if he's not brought them back, that's quite +enough." + +Winifred smiled. They would all plunge about with suggestions of this +and that, but she knew already what she would be doing, and that +was--nothing. The feeling that, after all, she had won a sort of +victory, retained her property, was every moment gaining ground in her. +No! if she wanted to punish him, she could do it at home without the +world knowing. + +"Well," said Emily, "come into the dining-room comfortably--you must stay +and have dinner with us. Leave it to me to tell your father." And, as +Winifred moved towards the door, she turned out the light. Not till then +did they see the disaster in the corridor. + +There, attracted by light from a room never lighted, James was standing +with his duncoloured camel-hair shawl folded about him, so that his arms +were not free and his silvered head looked cut off from his fashionably +trousered legs as if by an expanse of desert. He stood, inimitably +stork-like, with an expression as if he saw before him a frog too large +to swallow. + +"What's all this?" he said. "Tell your father? You never tell me +anything." + +The moment found Emily without reply. It was Winifred who went up to +him, and, laying one hand on each of his swathed, helpless arms, said: + +"Monty's not gone bankrupt, Father. He's only come back." + +They all three expected something serious to happen, and were glad she +had kept that grip of his arms, but they did not know the depth of root +in that shadowy old Forsyte. Something wry occurred about his shaven +mouth and chin, something scratchy between those long silvery whiskers. +Then he said with a sort of dignity: "He'll be the death of me. I knew +how it would be." + +"You mustn't worry, Father," said Winifred calmly. "I mean to make him +behave." + +"Ah!" said James. "Here, take this thing off, I'm hot." They unwound +the shawl. He turned, and walked firmly to the dining-room. + +"I don't want any soup," he said to Warmson, and sat down in his chair. +They all sat down too, Winifred still in her hat, while Warmson laid the +fourth place. When he left the room, James said: "What's he brought +back?" + +"Nothing, Father." + +James concentrated his eyes on his own image in a tablespoon. "Divorce!" +he muttered; "rubbish! What was I about? I ought to have paid him an +allowance to stay out of England. Soames you go and propose it to him." + +It seemed so right and simple a suggestion that even Winifred was +surprised when she said: "No, I'll keep him now he's back; he must just +behave--that's all." + +They all looked at her. It had always been known that Winifred had +pluck. + +"Out there!" said James elliptically, "who knows what cut-throats! You +look for his revolver! Don't go to bed without. You ought to have +Warmson to sleep in the house. I'll see him myself tomorrow." + +They were touched by this declaration, and Emily said comfortably: +"That's right, James, we won't have any nonsense." + +"Ah!" muttered James darkly, "I can't tell." + +The advent of Warmson with fish diverted conversation. + +When, directly after dinner, Winifred went over to kiss her father +good-night, he looked up with eyes so full of question and distress that +she put all the comfort she could into her voice. + +"It's all right, Daddy, dear; don't worry. I shan't need anyone--he's +quite bland. I shall only be upset if you worry. Good-night, bless +you!" + +James repeated the words, "Bless you!" as if he did not quite know what +they meant, and his eyes followed her to the door. + +She reached home before nine, and went straight upstairs. + +Dartie was lying on the bed in his dressing-room, fully redressed in a +blue serge suit and pumps; his arms were crossed behind his head, and an +extinct cigarette drooped from his mouth. + +Winifred remembered ridiculously the flowers in her window-boxes after a +blazing summer day; the way they lay, or rather stood--parched, yet +rested by the sun's retreat. It was as if a little dew had come already +on her burnt-up husband. + +He said apathetically: "I suppose you've been to Park Lane. How's the +old man?" + +Winifred could not help the bitter answer: "Not dead." + +He winced, actually he winced. + +"Understand, Monty," she said, "I will not have him worried. If you +aren't going to behave yourself, you may go back, you may go anywhere. +Have you had dinner?" + +No. + +"Would you like some?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"Imogen offered me some. I didn't want any." + +Imogen! In the plenitude of emotion Winifred had forgotten her. + +"So you've seen her? What did she say?" + +"She gave me a kiss." + +With mortification Winifred saw his dark sardonic face relaxed. 'Yes!' +she thought, 'he cares for her, not for me a bit.' + +Dartie's eyes were moving from side to side. + +"Does she know about me?" he said. + +It flashed through Winifred that here was the weapon she needed. He +minded their knowing! + +"No. Val knows. The others don't; they only know you went away." + +She heard him sigh with relief. + +"But they shall know," she said firmly, "if you give me cause." + +"All right!" he muttered, "hit me! I'm down!" + +Winifred went up to the bed. "Look here, Monty! I don't want to hit +you. I don't want to hurt you. I shan't allude to anything. I'm not +going to worry. What's the use?" She was silent a moment. "I can't stand +any more, though, and I won't! You'd better know. You've made me suffer. +But I used to be fond of you. For the sake of that...." She met the +heavy-lidded gaze of his brown eyes with the downward stare of her +green-grey eyes; touched his hand suddenly, turned her back, and went +into her room. + +She sat there a long time before her glass, fingering her rings, thinking +of this subdued dark man, almost a stranger to her, on the bed in the +other room; resolutely not 'worrying,' but gnawed by jealousy of what he +had been through, and now and again just visited by pity. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +OUTLANDISH NIGHT + +Soames doggedly let the spring come--no easy task for one conscious that +time was flying, his birds in the bush no nearer the hand, no issue from +the web anywhere visible. Mr. Polteed reported nothing, except that his +watch went on--costing a lot of money. Val and his cousin were gone to +the war, whence came news more favourable; Dartie was behaving himself so +far; James had retained his health; business prospered almost +terribly--there was nothing to worry Soames except that he was 'held up,' +could make no step in any direction. + +He did not exactly avoid Soho, for he could not afford to let them think +that he had 'piped off,' as James would have put it--he might want to +'pipe on' again at any minute. But he had to be so restrained and +cautious that he would often pass the door of the Restaurant Bretagne +without going in, and wander out of the purlieus of that region which +always gave him the feeling of having been possessively irregular. + +He wandered thus one May night into Regent Street and the most amazing +crowd he had ever seen; a shrieking, whistling, dancing, jostling, +grotesque and formidably jovial crowd, with false noses and mouth-organs, +penny whistles and long feathers, every appanage of idiocy, as it seemed +to him. Mafeking! Of course, it had been relieved! Good! But was that +an excuse? Who were these people, what were they, where had they come +from into the West End? His face was tickled, his ears whistled into. +Girls cried: 'Keep your hair on, stucco!' A youth so knocked off his +top-hat that he recovered it with difficulty. Crackers were exploding +beneath his nose, between his feet. He was bewildered, exasperated, +offended. This stream of people came from every quarter, as if impulse +had unlocked flood-gates, let flow waters of whose existence he had +heard, perhaps, but believed in never. This, then, was the populace, the +innumerable living negation of gentility and Forsyteism. This +was--egad!--Democracy! It stank, yelled, was hideous! In the East End, +or even Soho, perhaps--but here in Regent Street, in Piccadilly! What +were the police about! In 1900, Soames, with his Forsyte thousands, had +never seen the cauldron with the lid off; and now looking into it, could +hardly believe his scorching eyes. The whole thing was unspeakable! +These people had no restraint, they seemed to think him funny; such +swarms of them, rude, coarse, laughing--and what laughter! + +Nothing sacred to them! He shouldn't be surprised if they began to break +windows. In Pall Mall, past those august dwellings, to enter which +people paid sixty pounds, this shrieking, whistling, dancing dervish of a +crowd was swarming. From the Club windows his own kind were looking out +on them with regulated amusement. They didn't realise! Why, this was +serious--might come to anything! The crowd was cheerful, but some day +they would come in different mood! He remembered there had been a mob in +the late eighties, when he was at Brighton; they had smashed things and +made speeches. But more than dread, he felt a deep surprise. They were +hysterical--it wasn't English! And all about the relief of a little +town as big as--Watford, six thousand miles away. Restraint, reserve! +Those qualities to him more dear almost than life, those indispensable +attributes of property and culture, where were they? It wasn't English! +No, it wasn't English! So Soames brooded, threading his way on. It was +as if he had suddenly caught sight of someone cutting the covenant 'for +quiet possession' out of his legal documents; or of a monster lurking and +stalking out in the future, casting its shadow before. Their want of +stolidity, their want of reverence! It was like discovering that +nine-tenths of the people of England were foreigners. And if that were +so--then, anything might happen! + +At Hyde Park Corner he ran into George Forsyte, very sunburnt from +racing, holding a false nose in his hand. + +"Hallo, Soames!" he said, "have a nose!" + +Soames responded with a pale smile. + +"Got this from one of these sportsmen," went on George, who had evidently +been dining; "had to lay him out--for trying to bash my hat. I say, one +of these days we shall have to fight these chaps, they're getting so +damned cheeky--all radicals and socialists. They want our goods. You +tell Uncle James that, it'll make him sleep." + +'In vino veritas,' thought Soames, but he only nodded, and passed on up +Hamilton Place. There was but a trickle of roysterers in Park Lane, not +very noisy. And looking up at the houses he thought: 'After all, we're +the backbone of the country. They won't upset us easily. Possession's +nine points of the law.' + +But, as he closed the door of his father's house behind him, all that +queer outlandish nightmare in the streets passed out of his mind almost +as completely as if, having dreamed it, he had awakened in the warm clean +morning comfort of his spring-mattressed bed. + +Walking into the centre of the great empty drawing-room, he stood still. + +A wife! Somebody to talk things over with. One had a right! Damn it! +One had a right! + + + + +PART III + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SOAMES IN PARIS + +Soames had travelled little. Aged nineteen he had made the 'petty tour' +with his father, mother, and Winifred--Brussels, the Rhine, Switzerland, +and home by way of Paris. Aged twenty-seven, just when he began to take +interest in pictures, he had spent five hot weeks in Italy, looking into +the Renaissance--not so much in it as he had been led to expect--and a +fortnight in Paris on his way back, looking into himself, as became a +Forsyte surrounded by people so strongly self-centred and 'foreign' as +the French. His knowledge of their language being derived from his +public school, he did not understand them when they spoke. Silence he +had found better for all parties; one did not make a fool of oneself. He +had disliked the look of the men's clothes, the closed-in cabs, the +theatres which looked like bee-hives, the Galleries which smelled of +beeswax. He was too cautious and too shy to explore that side of Paris +supposed by Forsytes to constitute its attraction under the rose; and as +for a collector's bargain--not one to be had! As Nicholas might have put +it--they were a grasping lot. He had come back uneasy, saying Paris was +overrated. + +When, therefore, in June of 1900 he went to Paris, it was but his third +attempt on the centre of civilisation. This time, however, the mountain +was going to Mahomet; for he felt by now more deeply civilised than +Paris, and perhaps he really was. Moreover, he had a definite objective. +This was no mere genuflexion to a shrine of taste and immorality, but the +prosecution of his own legitimate affairs. He went, indeed, because +things were getting past a joke. The watch went on and on, +and--nothing--nothing! Jolyon had never returned to Paris, and no one +else was 'suspect!' Busy with new and very confidential matters, Soames +was realising more than ever how essential reputation is to a solicitor. +But at night and in his leisure moments he was ravaged by the thought +that time was always flying and money flowing in, and his own future as +much 'in irons' as ever. Since Mafeking night he had become aware that a +'young fool of a doctor' was hanging round Annette. Twice he had come +across him--a cheerful young fool, not more than thirty. + +Nothing annoyed Soames so much as cheerfulness--an indecent, extravagant +sort of quality, which had no relation to facts. The mixture of his +desires and hopes was, in a word, becoming torture; and lately the +thought had come to him that perhaps Irene knew she was being shadowed: +It was this which finally decided him to go and see for himself; to go +and once more try to break down her repugnance, her refusal to make her +own and his path comparatively smooth once more. If he failed +again--well, he would see what she did with herself, anyway! + +He went to an hotel in the Rue Caumartin, highly recommended to Forsytes, +where practically nobody spoke French. He had formed no plan. He did +not want to startle her; yet must contrive that she had no chance to +evade him by flight. And next morning he set out in bright weather. + +Paris had an air of gaiety, a sparkle over its star-shape which almost +annoyed Soames. He stepped gravely, his nose lifted a little sideways in +real curiosity. He desired now to understand things French. Was not +Annette French? There was much to be got out of his visit, if he could +only get it. In this laudable mood and the Place de la Concorde he was +nearly run down three times. He came on the 'Cours la Reine,' where +Irene's hotel was situated, almost too suddenly, for he had not yet fixed +on his procedure. Crossing over to the river side, he noted the building, +white and cheerful-looking, with green sunblinds, seen through a screen +of plane-tree leaves. And, conscious that it would be far better to meet +her casually in some open place than to risk a call, he sat down on a +bench whence he could watch the entrance. It was not quite eleven +o'clock, and improbable that she had yet gone out. Some pigeons were +strutting and preening their feathers in the pools of sunlight between +the shadows of the plane-trees. A workman in a blue blouse passed, and +threw them crumbs from the paper which contained his dinner. A 'bonne' +coiffed with ribbon shepherded two little girls with pig-tails and +frilled drawers. A cab meandered by, whose cocher wore a blue coat and a +black-glazed hat. To Soames a kind of affectation seemed to cling about +it all, a sort of picturesqueness which was out of date. A theatrical +people, the French! He lit one of his rare cigarettes, with a sense of +injury that Fate should be casting his life into outlandish waters. He +shouldn't wonder if Irene quite enjoyed this foreign life; she had never +been properly English--even to look at! And he began considering which of +those windows could be hers under the green sunblinds. How could he word +what he had come to say so that it might pierce the defence of her proud +obstinacy? He threw the fag-end of his cigarette at a pigeon, with the +thought: 'I can't stay here for ever twiddling my thumbs. Better give it +up and call on her in the late afternoon.' But he still sat on, heard +twelve strike, and then half-past. 'I'll wait till one,' he thought, +'while I'm about it.' But just then he started up, and shrinkingly sat +down again. A woman had come out in a cream-coloured frock, and was +moving away under a fawn-coloured parasol. Irene herself! He waited till +she was too far away to recognise him, then set out after her. She was +strolling as though she had no particular objective; moving, if he +remembered rightly, toward the Bois de Boulogne. For half an hour at +least he kept his distance on the far side of the way till she had passed +into the Bois itself. Was she going to meet someone after all? Some +confounded Frenchman--one of those 'Bel Ami' chaps, perhaps, who had +nothing to do but hang about women--for he had read that book with +difficulty and a sort of disgusted fascination. He followed doggedly +along a shady alley, losing sight of her now and then when the path +curved. And it came back to him how, long ago, one night in Hyde Park he +had slid and sneaked from tree to tree, from seat to seat, hunting +blindly, ridiculously, in burning jealousy for her and young Bosinney. +The path bent sharply, and, hurrying, he came on her sitting in front of +a small fountain--a little green-bronze Niobe veiled in hair to her +slender hips, gazing at the pool she had wept: He came on her so suddenly +that he was past before he could turn and take off his hat. She did not +start up. She had always had great self-command--it was one of the +things he most admired in her, one of his greatest grievances against +her, because he had never been able to tell what she was thinking. Had +she realised that he was following? Her self-possession made him angry; +and, disdaining to explain his presence, he pointed to the mournful +little Niobe, and said: + +"That's rather a good thing." + +He could see, then, that she was struggling to preserve her composure. + +"I didn't want to startle you; is this one of your haunts?" + +"Yes." + +"A little lonely." As he spoke, a lady, strolling by, paused to look at +the fountain and passed on. + +Irene's eyes followed her. + +"No," she said, prodding the ground with her parasol, "never lonely. One +has always one's shadow." + +Soames understood; and, looking at her hard, he exclaimed: + +"Well, it's your own fault. You can be free of it at any moment. Irene, +come back to me, and be free." + +Irene laughed. + +"Don't!" cried Soames, stamping his foot; "it's inhuman. Listen! Is +there any condition I can make which will bring you back to me? If I +promise you a separate house--and just a visit now and then?" + +Irene rose, something wild suddenly in her face and figure. + +"None! None! None! You may hunt me to the grave. I will not come." + +Outraged and on edge, Soames recoiled. + +"Don't make a scene!" he said sharply. And they both stood motionless, +staring at the little Niobe, whose greenish flesh the sunlight was +burnishing. + +"That's your last word, then," muttered Soames, clenching his hands; "you +condemn us both." + +Irene bent her head. "I can't come back. Good-bye!" + +A feeling of monstrous injustice flared up in Soames. + +"Stop!" he said, "and listen to me a moment. You gave me a sacred +vow--you came to me without a penny. You had all I could give you. You +broke that vow without cause, you made me a by-word; you refused me a +child; you've left me in prison; you--you still move me so that I want +you--I want you. Well, what do you think of yourself?" + +Irene turned, her face was deadly pale, her eyes burning dark. + +"God made me as I am," she said; "wicked if you like--but not so wicked +that I'll give myself again to a man I hate." + +The sunlight gleamed on her hair as she moved away, and seemed to lay a +caress all down her clinging cream-coloured frock. + +Soames could neither speak nor move. That word 'hate'--so extreme, so +primitive--made all the Forsyte in him tremble. With a deep imprecation +he strode away from where she had vanished, and ran almost into the arms +of the lady sauntering back--the fool, the shadowing fool! + +He was soon dripping with perspiration, in the depths of the Bois. + +'Well,' he thought, 'I need have no consideration for her now; she has +not a grain of it for me. I'll show her this very day that she's my wife +still.' + +But on the way home to his hotel, he was forced to the conclusion that he +did not know what he meant. One could not make scenes in public, and +short of scenes in public what was there he could do? He almost cursed +his own thin-skinnedness. She might deserve no consideration; but +he--alas! deserved some at his own hands. And sitting lunchless in the +hall of his hotel, with tourists passing every moment, Baedeker in hand, +he was visited by black dejection. In irons! His whole life, with every +natural instinct and every decent yearning gagged and fettered, and all +because Fate had driven him seventeen years ago to set his heart upon +this woman--so utterly, that even now he had no real heart to set on any +other! Cursed was the day he had met her, and his eyes for seeing in her +anything but the cruel Venus she was! And yet, still seeing her with the +sunlight on the clinging China crepe of her gown, he uttered a little +groan, so that a tourist who was passing, thought: 'Man in pain! Let's +see! what did I have for lunch?' + +Later, in front of a cafe near the Opera, over a glass of cold tea with +lemon and a straw in it, he took the malicious resolution to go and dine +at her hotel. If she were there, he would speak to her; if she were not, +he would leave a note. He dressed carefully, and wrote as follows: + +"Your idyll with that fellow Jolyon Forsyte is known to me at all events. +If you pursue it, understand that I will leave no stone unturned to make +things unbearable for him. 'S. F.'" + +He sealed this note but did not address it, refusing to write the maiden +name which she had impudently resumed, or to put the word Forsyte on the +envelope lest she should tear it up unread. Then he went out, and made +his way through the glowing streets, abandoned to evening +pleasure-seekers. Entering her hotel, he took his seat in a far corner +of the dining-room whence he could see all entrances and exits. She was +not there. He ate little, quickly, watchfully. She did not come. He +lingered in the lounge over his coffee, drank two liqueurs of brandy. +But still she did not come. He went over to the keyboard and examined the +names. Number twelve, on the first floor! And he determined to take the +note up himself. He mounted red-carpeted stairs, past a little salon; +eight-ten-twelve! Should he knock, push the note under, or....? He +looked furtively round and turned the handle. The door opened, but into +a little space leading to another door; he knocked on that--no answer. +The door was locked. It fitted very closely to the floor; the note would +not go under. He thrust it back into his pocket, and stood a moment +listening. He felt somehow certain that she was not there. And suddenly +he came away, passing the little salon down the stairs. He stopped at +the bureau and said: + +"Will you kindly see that Mrs. Heron has this note?" + +"Madame Heron left to-day, Monsieur--suddenly, about three o'clock. There +was illness in her family." + +Soames compressed his lips. "Oh!" he said; "do you know her address?" + +"Non, Monsieur. England, I think." + +Soames put the note back into his pocket and went out. He hailed an open +horse-cab which was passing. + +"Drive me anywhere!" + +The man, who, obviously, did not understand, smiled, and waved his whip. +And Soames was borne along in that little yellow-wheeled Victoria all +over star-shaped Paris, with here and there a pause, and the question, +"C'est par ici, Monsieur?" "No, go on," till the man gave it up in +despair, and the yellow-wheeled chariot continued to roll between the +tall, flat-fronted shuttered houses and plane-tree avenues--a little +Flying Dutchman of a cab. + +'Like my life,' thought Soames, 'without object, on and on!' + + + + +CHAPTER II + +IN THE WEB + +Soames returned to England the following day, and on the third morning +received a visit from Mr. Polteed, who wore a flower and carried a brown +billycock hat. Soames motioned him to a seat. + +"The news from the war is not so bad, is it?" said Mr. Polteed. "I hope +I see you well, sir." + +"Thanks! quite." + +Mr. Polteed leaned forward, smiled, opened his hand, looked into it, and +said softly: + +"I think we've done your business for you at last." + +"What?" ejaculated Soames. + +"Nineteen reports quite suddenly what I think we shall be justified in +calling conclusive evidence," and Mr. Polteed paused. + +"Well?" + +"On the 10th instant, after witnessing an interview between 17 and a +party, earlier in the day, 19 can swear to having seen him coming out of +her bedroom in the hotel about ten o'clock in the evening. With a little +care in the giving of the evidence that will be enough, especially as 17 +has left Paris--no doubt with the party in question. In fact, they both +slipped off, and we haven't got on to them again, yet; but we shall--we +shall. She's worked hard under very difficult circumstances, and I'm +glad she's brought it off at last." Mr. Polteed took out a cigarette, +tapped its end against the table, looked at Soames, and put it back. The +expression on his client's face was not encouraging. + +"Who is this new person?" said Soames abruptly. + +"That we don't know. She'll swear to the fact, and she's got his +appearance pat." + +Mr. Polteed took out a letter, and began reading: + +"'Middle-aged, medium height, blue dittoes in afternoon, evening dress at +night, pale, dark hair, small dark moustache, flat cheeks, good chin, +grey eyes, small feet, guilty look....'" + +Soames rose and went to the window. He stood there in sardonic fury. +Congenital idiot--spidery congenital idiot! Seven months at fifteen +pounds a week--to be tracked down as his own wife's lover! Guilty look! +He threw the window open. + +"It's hot," he said, and came back to his seat. + +Crossing his knees, he bent a supercilious glance on Mr. Polteed. + +"I doubt if that's quite good enough," he said, drawling the words, "with +no name or address. I think you may let that lady have a rest, and take +up our friend 47 at this end." Whether Polteed had spotted him he could +not tell; but he had a mental vision of him in the midst of his cronies +dissolved in inextinguishable laughter. 'Guilty look!' Damnation! + +Mr. Polteed said in a tone of urgency, almost of pathos: "I assure you we +have put it through sometimes on less than that. It's Paris, you know. +Attractive woman living alone. Why not risk it, sir? We might screw it +up a peg." + +Soames had sudden insight. The fellow's professional zeal was stirred: +'Greatest triumph of my career; got a man his divorce through a visit to +his own wife's bedroom! Something to talk of there, when I retire!' And +for one wild moment he thought: 'Why not?' After all, hundreds of men of +medium height had small feet and a guilty look! + +"I'm not authorised to take any risk!" he said shortly. + +Mr. Polteed looked up. + +"Pity," he said, "quite a pity! That other affair seemed very costive." + +Soames rose. + +"Never mind that. Please watch 47, and take care not to find a mare's +nest. Good-morning!" + +Mr. Polteed's eye glinted at the words 'mare's nest!' + +"Very good. You shall be kept informed." + +And Soames was alone again. The spidery, dirty, ridiculous business! +Laying his arms on the table, he leaned his forehead on them. Full ten +minutes he rested thus, till a managing clerk roused him with the draft +prospectus of a new issue of shares, very desirable, in Manifold and +Topping's. That afternoon he left work early and made his way to the +Restaurant Bretagne. Only Madame Lamotte was in. Would Monsieur have +tea with her? + +Soames bowed. + +When they were seated at right angles to each other in the little room, +he said abruptly: + +"I want a talk with you, Madame." + +The quick lift of her clear brown eyes told him that she had long +expected such words. + +"I have to ask you something first: That young doctor--what's his name? +Is there anything between him and Annette?" + +Her whole personality had become, as it were, like jet--clear-cut, black, +hard, shining. + +"Annette is young," she said; "so is monsieur le docteur. Between young +people things move quickly; but Annette is a good daughter. Ah! what a +jewel of a nature!" + +The least little smile twisted Soames' lips. + +"Nothing definite, then?" + +"But definite--no, indeed! The young man is veree nice, but--what would +you? There is no money at present." + +She raised her willow-patterned tea-cup; Soames did the same. Their eyes +met. + +"I am a married man," he said, "living apart from my wife for many years. +I am seeking to divorce her." + +Madame Lamotte put down her cup. Indeed! What tragic things there were! +The entire absence of sentiment in her inspired a queer species of +contempt in Soames. + +"I am a rich man," he added, fully conscious that the remark was not in +good taste. "It is useless to say more at present, but I think you +understand." + +Madame's eyes, so open that the whites showed above them, looked at him +very straight. + +"Ah! ca--mais nous avons le temps!" was all she said. "Another little +cup?" Soames refused, and, taking his leave, walked westward. + +He had got that off his mind; she would not let Annette commit herself +with that cheerful young ass until....! But what chance of his ever +being able to say: 'I'm free.' What chance? The future had lost all +semblance of reality. He felt like a fly, entangled in cobweb filaments, +watching the desirable freedom of the air with pitiful eyes. + +He was short of exercise, and wandered on to Kensington Gardens, and down +Queen's Gate towards Chelsea. Perhaps she had gone back to her flat. +That at all events he could find out. For since that last and most +ignominious repulse his wounded self-respect had taken refuge again in +the feeling that she must have a lover. He arrived before the little +Mansions at the dinner-hour. No need to enquire! A grey-haired lady was +watering the flower-boxes in her window. It was evidently let. And he +walked slowly past again, along the river--an evening of clear, quiet +beauty, all harmony and comfort, except within his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +RICHMOND PARK + +On the afternoon that Soames crossed to France a cablegram was received +by Jolyon at Robin Hill: + +"Your son down with enteric no immediate danger will cable again." + +It reached a household already agitated by the imminent departure of +June, whose berth was booked for the following day. She was, indeed, in +the act of confiding Eric Cobbley and his family to her father's care +when the message arrived. + +The resolution to become a Red Cross nurse, taken under stimulus of +Jolly's enlistment, had been loyally fulfilled with the irritation and +regret which all Forsytes feel at what curtails their individual +liberties. Enthusiastic at first about the 'wonderfulness' of the work, +she had begun after a month to feel that she could train herself so much +better than others could train her. And if Holly had not insisted on +following her example, and being trained too, she must inevitably have +'cried off.' The departure of Jolly and Val with their troop in April +had further stiffened her failing resolve. But now, on the point of +departure, the thought of leaving Eric Cobbley, with a wife and two +children, adrift in the cold waters of an unappreciative world weighed on +her so that she was still in danger of backing out. The reading of that +cablegram, with its disquieting reality, clinched the matter. She saw +herself already nursing Jolly--for of course they would let her nurse her +own brother! Jolyon--ever wide and doubtful--had no such hope. Poor +June! + +Could any Forsyte of her generation grasp how rude and brutal life was? +Ever since he knew of his boy's arrival at Cape Town the thought of him +had been a kind of recurrent sickness in Jolyon. He could not get +reconciled to the feeling that Jolly was in danger all the time. The +cablegram, grave though it was, was almost a relief. He was now safe +from bullets, anyway. And yet--this enteric was a virulent disease! The +Times was full of deaths therefrom. Why could he not be lying out there +in that up-country hospital, and his boy safe at home? The un-Forsytean +self-sacrifice of his three children, indeed, had quite bewildered +Jolyon. He would eagerly change places with Jolly, because he loved his +boy; but no such personal motive was influencing them. He could only +think that it marked the decline of the Forsyte type. + +Late that afternoon Holly came out to him under the old oak-tree. She had +grown up very much during these last months of hospital training away +from home. And, seeing her approach, he thought: 'She has more sense +than June, child though she is; more wisdom. Thank God she isn't going +out.' She had seated herself in the swing, very silent and still. 'She +feels this,' thought Jolyon, 'as much as I' and, seeing her eyes fixed on +him, he said: "Don't take it to heart too much, my child. If he weren't +ill, he might be in much greater danger." + +Holly got out of the swing. + +"I want to tell you something, Dad. It was through me that Jolly +enlisted and went out." + +"How's that?" + +"When you were away in Paris, Val Dartie and I fell in love. We used to +ride in Richmond Park; we got engaged. Jolly found it out, and thought +he ought to stop it; so he dared Val to enlist. It was all my fault, +Dad; and I want to go out too. Because if anything happens to either of +them I should feel awful. Besides, I'm just as much trained as June." + +Jolyon gazed at her in a stupefaction that was tinged with irony. So this +was the answer to the riddle he had been asking himself; and his three +children were Forsytes after all. Surely Holly might have told him all +this before! But he smothered the sarcastic sayings on his lips. +Tenderness to the young was perhaps the most sacred article of his +belief. He had got, no doubt, what he deserved. Engaged! So this was +why he had so lost touch with her! And to young Val Dartie--nephew of +Soames--in the other camp! It was all terribly distasteful. He closed +his easel, and set his drawing against the tree. + +"Have you told June?" + +"Yes; she says she'll get me into her cabin somehow. It's a single +cabin; but one of us could sleep on the floor. If you consent, she'll go +up now and get permission." + +'Consent?' thought Jolyon. 'Rather late in the day to ask for that!' +But again he checked himself. + +"You're too young, my dear; they won't let you." + +"June knows some people that she helped to go to Cape Town. If they +won't let me nurse yet, I could stay with them and go on training there. +Let me go, Dad!" + +Jolyon smiled because he could have cried. + +"I never stop anyone from doing anything," he said. + +Holly flung her arms round his neck. + +"Oh! Dad, you are the best in the world." + +'That means the worst,' thought Jolyon. If he had ever doubted his creed +of tolerance he did so then. + +"I'm not friendly with Val's family," he said, "and I don't know Val, but +Jolly didn't like him." + +Holly looked at the distance and said: + +"I love him." + +"That settles it," said Jolyon dryly, then catching the expression on her +face, he kissed her, with the thought: 'Is anything more pathetic than +the faith of the young?' Unless he actually forbade her going it was +obvious that he must make the best of it, so he went up to town with +June. Whether due to her persistence, or the fact that the official they +saw was an old school friend of Jolyon's, they obtained permission for +Holly to share the single cabin. He took them to Surbiton station the +following evening, and they duly slid away from him, provided with money, +invalid foods, and those letters of credit without which Forsytes do not +travel. + +He drove back to Robin Hill under a brilliant sky to his late dinner, +served with an added care by servants trying to show him that they +sympathised, eaten with an added scrupulousness to show them that he +appreciated their sympathy. But it was a real relief to get to his cigar +on the terrace of flag-stones--cunningly chosen by young Bosinney for +shape and colour--with night closing in around him, so beautiful a night, +hardly whispering in the trees, and smelling so sweet that it made him +ache. The grass was drenched with dew, and he kept to those flagstones, +up and down, till presently it began to seem to him that he was one of +three, not wheeling, but turning right about at each end, so that his +father was always nearest to the house, and his son always nearest to the +terrace edge. Each had an arm lightly within his arm; he dared not lift +his hand to his cigar lest he should disturb them, and it burned away, +dripping ash on him, till it dropped from his lips, at last, which were +getting hot. They left him then, and his arms felt chilly. Three +Jolyons in one Jolyon they had walked. + +He stood still, counting the sounds--a carriage passing on the highroad, +a distant train, the dog at Gage's farm, the whispering trees, the groom +playing on his penny whistle. A multitude of stars up there--bright and +silent, so far off! No moon as yet! Just enough light to show him the +dark flags and swords of the iris flowers along the terrace edge--his +favourite flower that had the night's own colour on its curving crumpled +petals. He turned round to the house. Big, unlighted, not a soul beside +himself to live in all that part of it. Stark loneliness! He could not +go on living here alone. And yet, so long as there was beauty, why +should a man feel lonely? The answer--as to some idiot's riddle--was: +Because he did. The greater the beauty, the greater the loneliness, for +at the back of beauty was harmony, and at the back of harmony was +--union. Beauty could not comfort if the soul were out of it. The +night, maddeningly lovely, with bloom of grapes on it in starshine, and +the breath of grass and honey coming from it, he could not enjoy, while +she who was to him the life of beauty, its embodiment and essence, was +cut off from him, utterly cut off now, he felt, by honourable decency. + +He made a poor fist of sleeping, striving too hard after that resignation +which Forsytes find difficult to reach, bred to their own way and left so +comfortably off by their fathers. But after dawn he dozed off, and soon +was dreaming a strange dream. + +He was on a stage with immensely high rich curtains--high as the very +stars--stretching in a semi-circle from footlights to footlights. He +himself was very small, a little black restless figure roaming up and +down; and the odd thing was that he was not altogether himself, but +Soames as well, so that he was not only experiencing but watching. This +figure of himself and Soames was trying to find a way out through the +curtains, which, heavy and dark, kept him in. Several times he had +crossed in front of them before he saw with delight a sudden narrow +rift--a tall chink of beauty the colour of iris flowers, like a glimpse +of Paradise, remote, ineffable. Stepping quickly forward to pass into +it, he found the curtains closing before him. Bitterly disappointed he +--or was it Soames?--moved on, and there was the chink again through the +parted curtains, which again closed too soon. This went on and on and he +never got through till he woke with the word "Irene" on his lips. The +dream disturbed him badly, especially that identification of himself with +Soames. + +Next morning, finding it impossible to work, he spent hours riding +Jolly's horse in search of fatigue. And on the second day he made up his +mind to move to London and see if he could not get permission to follow +his daughters to South Africa. He had just begun to pack the following +morning when he received this letter: + +"GREEN HOTEL, +"June 13. +"RICHMOND. +"MY DEAR JOLYON, + +"You will be surprised to see how near I am to you. Paris became +impossible--and I have come here to be within reach of your advice. I +would so love to see you again. Since you left Paris I don't think I +have met anyone I could really talk to. Is all well with you and with +your boy? No one knows, I think, that I am here at present. + +"Always your friend, +"IRENE." + +Irene within three miles of him!--and again in flight! He stood with a +very queer smile on his lips. This was more than he had bargained for! + +About noon he set out on foot across Richmond Park, and as he went along, +he thought: 'Richmond Park! By Jove, it suits us Forsytes!' Not that +Forsytes lived there--nobody lived there save royalty, rangers, and the +deer--but in Richmond Park Nature was allowed to go so far and no +further, putting up a brave show of being natural, seeming to say: 'Look +at my instincts--they are almost passions, very nearly out of hand, but +not quite, of course; the very hub of possession is to possess oneself.' +Yes! Richmond Park possessed itself, even on that bright day of June, +with arrowy cuckoos shifting the tree-points of their calls, and the wood +doves announcing high summer. + +The Green Hotel, which Jolyon entered at one o'clock, stood nearly +opposite that more famous hostelry, the Crown and Sceptre; it was modest, +highly respectable, never out of cold beef, gooseberry tart, and a +dowager or two, so that a carriage and pair was almost always standing +before the door. + +In a room draped in chintz so slippery as to forbid all emotion, Irene +was sitting on a piano stool covered with crewel work, playing 'Hansel +and Gretel' out of an old score. Above her on a wall, not yet +Morris-papered, was a print of the Queen on a pony, amongst deer-hounds, +Scotch. caps, and slain stags; beside her in a pot on the window-sill was +a white and rosy fuchsia. The Victorianism of the room almost talked; +and in her clinging frock Irene seemed to Jolyon like Venus emerging from +the shell of the past century. + +"If the proprietor had eyes," he said, "he would show you the door; you +have broken through his decorations." Thus lightly he smothered up an +emotional moment. Having eaten cold beef, pickled walnut, gooseberry +tart, and drunk stone-bottle ginger-beer, they walked into the Park, and +light talk was succeeded by the silence Jolyon had dreaded. + +"You haven't told me about Paris," he said at last. + +"No. I've been shadowed for a long time; one gets used to that. But then +Soames came. By the little Niobe--the same story; would I go back to +him?" + +"Incredible!" + +She had spoken without raising her eyes, but she looked up now. Those +dark eyes clinging to his said as no words could have: 'I have come to an +end; if you want me, here I am.' + +For sheer emotional intensity had he ever--old as he was--passed through +such a moment? + +The words: 'Irene, I adore you!' almost escaped him. Then, with a +clearness of which he would not have believed mental vision capable, he +saw Jolly lying with a white face turned to a white wall. + +"My boy is very ill out there," he said quietly. + +Irene slipped her arm through his. + +"Let's walk on; I understand." + +No miserable explanation to attempt! She had understood! And they +walked on among the bracken, knee-high already, between the rabbit-holes +and the oak-trees, talking of Jolly. He left her two hours later at the +Richmond Hill Gate, and turned towards home. + +'She knows of my feeling for her, then,' he thought. Of course! One +could not keep knowledge of that from such a woman! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +OVER THE RIVER + +Jolly was tired to death of dreams. They had left him now too wan and +weak to dream again; left him to lie torpid, faintly remembering far-off +things; just able to turn his eyes and gaze through the window near his +cot at the trickle of river running by in the sands, at the straggling +milk-bush of the Karoo beyond. He knew what the Karoo was now, even if +he had not seen a Boer roll over like a rabbit, or heard the whine of +flying bullets. This pestilence had sneaked on him before he had smelled +powder. A thirsty day and a rash drink, or perhaps a tainted fruit--who +knew? Not he, who had not even strength left to grudge the evil thing its +victory--just enough to know that there were many lying here with him, +that he was sore with frenzied dreaming; just enough to watch that thread +of river and be able to remember faintly those far-away things.... + +The sun was nearly down. It would be cooler soon. He would have liked +to know the time--to feel his old watch, so butter-smooth, to hear the +repeater strike. It would have been friendly, home-like. He had not even +strength to remember that the old watch was last wound the day he began +to lie here. The pulse of his brain beat so feebly that faces which came +and went, nurse's, doctor's, orderly's, were indistinguishable, just one +indifferent face; and the words spoken about him meant all the same +thing, and that almost nothing. Those things he used to do, though far +and faint, were more distinct--walking past the foot of the old steps at +Harrow 'bill'--'Here, sir! Here, sir!'--wrapping boots in the +Westminster Gazette, greenish paper, shining boots--grandfather coming +from somewhere dark--a smell of earth--the mushroom house! Robin Hill! +Burying poor old Balthasar in the leaves! Dad! Home.... + +Consciousness came again with noticing that the river had no water in +it--someone was speaking too. Want anything? No. What could one want? +Too weak to want--only to hear his watch strike.... + +Holly! She wouldn't bowl properly. Oh! Pitch them up! Not sneaks!... +'Back her, Two and Bow!' He was Two!... Consciousness came once more +with a sense of the violet dusk outside, and a rising blood-red crescent +moon. His eyes rested on it fascinated; in the long minutes of +brain-nothingness it went moving up and up.... + +"He's going, doctor!" Not pack boots again? Never? 'Mind your form, +Two!' Don't cry! Go quietly--over the river--sleep!... Dark? If +somebody would--strike--his--watch!... + + + + +CHAPTER V + +SOAMES ACTS + +A sealed letter in the handwriting of Mr. Polteed remained unopened in +Soames' pocket throughout two hours of sustained attention to the affairs +of the 'New Colliery Company,' which, declining almost from the moment of +old Jolyon's retirement from the Chairmanship, had lately run down so +fast that there was now nothing for it but a 'winding-up.' He took the +letter out to lunch at his City Club, sacred to him for the meals he had +eaten there with his father in the early seventies, when James used to +like him to come and see for himself the nature of his future life. + +Here in a remote corner before a plate of roast mutton and mashed potato, +he read: + +"DEAR SIR, + +"In accordance with your suggestion we have duly taken the matter up at +the other end with gratifying results. Observation of 47 has enabled us +to locate 17 at the Green Hotel, Richmond. The two have been observed to +meet daily during the past week in Richmond Park. Nothing absolutely +crucial has so far been notified. But in conjunction with what we had +from Paris at the beginning of the year, I am confident we could now +satisfy the Court. We shall, of course, continue to watch the matter +until we hear from you. + +"Very faithfully yours, +"CLAUD POLTEED." + +Soames read it through twice and beckoned to the waiter: + +"Take this away; it's cold." + +"Shall I bring you some more, sir?" + +"No. Get me some coffee in the other room." + +And, paying for what he had not eaten, he went out, passing two +acquaintances without sign of recognition. + +'Satisfy the Court!' he thought, sitting at a little round marble table +with the coffee before him. That fellow Jolyon! He poured out his +coffee, sweetened and drank it. He would disgrace him in the eyes of his +own children! And rising, with that resolution hot within him, he found +for the first time the inconvenience of being his own solicitor. He +could not treat this scandalous matter in his own office. He must commit +the soul of his private dignity to a stranger, some other professional +dealer in family dishonour. Who was there he could go to? Linkman and +Laver in Budge Row, perhaps--reliable, not too conspicuous, only nodding +acquaintances. But before he saw them he must see Polteed again. But at +this thought Soames had a moment of sheer weakness. To part with his +secret? How find the words? How subject himself to contempt and secret +laughter? Yet, after all, the fellow knew already--oh yes, he knew! +And, feeling that he must finish with it now, he took a cab into the West +End. + +In this hot weather the window of Mr. Polteed's room was positively open, +and the only precaution was a wire gauze, preventing the intrusion of +flies. Two or three had tried to come in, and been caught, so that they +seemed to be clinging there with the intention of being devoured +presently. Mr. Polteed, following the direction of his client's eye, +rose apologetically and closed the window. + +'Posing ass!' thought Soames. Like all who fundamentally believe in +themselves he was rising to the occasion, and, with his little sideway +smile, he said: "I've had your letter. I'm going to act. I suppose you +know who the lady you've been watching really is?" Mr. Polteed's +expression at that moment was a masterpiece. It so clearly said: 'Well, +what do you think? But mere professional knowledge, I assure you--pray +forgive it!' He made a little half airy movement with his hand, as who +should say: 'Such things--such things will happen to us all!' + +"Very well, then," said Soames, moistening his lips: "there's no need to +say more. I'm instructing Linkman and Laver of Budge Row to act for me. +I don't want to hear your evidence, but kindly make your report to them +at five o'clock, and continue to observe the utmost secrecy." + +Mr. Polteed half closed his eyes, as if to comply at once. "My dear +sir," he said. + +"Are you convinced," asked Soames with sudden energy, "that there is +enough?" + +The faintest movement occurred to Mr. Polteed's shoulders. + +"You can risk it," he murmured; "with what we have, and human nature, you +can risk it." + +Soames rose. "You will ask for Mr. Linkman. Thanks; don't get up." He +could not bear Mr. Polteed to slide as usual between him and the door. +In the sunlight of Piccadilly he wiped his forehead. This had been the +worst of it--he could stand the strangers better. And he went back into +the City to do what still lay before him. + +That evening in Park Lane, watching his father dine, he was overwhelmed +by his old longing for a son--a son, to watch him eat as he went down the +years, to be taken on his knee as James on a time had been wont to take +him; a son of his own begetting, who could understand him because he was +the same flesh and blood--understand, and comfort him, and become more +rich and cultured than himself because he would start even better off. +To get old--like that thin, grey wiry-frail figure sitting there--and be +quite alone with possessions heaping up around him; to take no interest +in anything because it had no future and must pass away from him to hands +and mouths and eyes for whom he cared no jot! No! He would force it +through now, and be free to marry, and have a son to care for him before +he grew to be like the old old man his father, wistfully watching now his +sweetbread, now his son. + +In that mood he went up to bed. But, lying warm between those fine linen +sheets of Emily's providing, he was visited by memories and torture. +Visions of Irene, almost the solid feeling of her body, beset him. Why +had he ever been fool enough to see her again, and let this flood back on +him so that it was pain to think of her with that fellow--that stealing +fellow. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A SUMMER DAY + +His boy was seldom absent from Jolyon's mind in the days which followed +the first walk with Irene in Richmond Park. No further news had come; +enquiries at the War Office elicited nothing; nor could he expect to hear +from June and Holly for three weeks at least. In these days he felt how +insufficient were his memories of Jolly, and what an amateur of a father +he had been. There was not a single memory in which anger played a part; +not one reconciliation, because there had never been a rupture; nor one +heart-to-heart confidence, not even when Jolly's mother died. Nothing but +half-ironical affection. He had been too afraid of committing himself in +any direction, for fear of losing his liberty, or interfering with that +of his boy. + +Only in Irene's presence had he relief, highly complicated by the +ever-growing perception of how divided he was between her and his son. +With Jolly was bound up all that sense of continuity and social creed of +which he had drunk deeply in his youth and again during his boy's public +school and varsity life--all that sense of not going back on what father +and son expected of each other. With Irene was bound up all his delight +in beauty and in Nature. And he seemed to know less and less which was +the stronger within him. From such sentimental paralysis he was rudely +awakened, however, one afternoon, just as he was starting off to +Richmond, by a young man with a bicycle and a face oddly familiar, who +came forward faintly smiling. + +"Mr. Jolyon Forsyte? Thank you!" Placing an envelope in Jolyon's hand +he wheeled off the path and rode away. Bewildered, Jolyon opened it. + +"Admiralty Probate and Divorce, Forsyte v. Forsyte and Forsyte!" + +A sensation of shame and disgust was followed by the instant reaction +'Why, here's the very thing you want, and you don't like it!' But she +must have had one too; and he must go to her at once. He turned things +over as he went along. It was an ironical business. For, whatever the +Scriptures said about the heart, it took more than mere longings to +satisfy the law. They could perfectly well defend this suit, or at least +in good faith try to. But the idea of doing so revolted Jolyon. If not +her lover in deed he was in desire, and he knew that she was ready to +come to him. Her face had told him so. Not that he exaggerated her +feeling for him. She had had her grand passion, and he could not expect +another from her at his age. But she had trust in him, affection for +him, and must feel that he would be a refuge. Surely she would not ask +him to defend the suit, knowing that he adored her! Thank Heaven she had +not that maddening British conscientiousness which refused happiness for +the sake of refusing! She must rejoice at this chance of being free +after seventeen years of death in life! As to publicity, the fat was in +the fire! To defend the suit would not take away the slur. Jolyon had +all the proper feeling of a Forsyte whose privacy is threatened: If he +was to be hung by the Law, by all means let it be for a sheep! Moreover +the notion of standing in a witness box and swearing to the truth that no +gesture, not even a word of love had passed between them seemed to him +more degrading than to take the tacit stigma of being an adulterer--more +truly degrading, considering the feeling in his heart, and just as bad +and painful for his children. The thought of explaining away, if he +could, before a judge and twelve average Englishmen, their meetings in +Paris, and the walks in Richmond Park, horrified him. The brutality and +hypocritical censoriousness of the whole process; the probability that +they would not be believed--the mere vision of her, whom he looked on as +the embodiment of Nature and of Beauty, standing there before all those +suspicious, gloating eyes was hideous to him. No, no! To defend a suit +only made a London holiday, and sold the newspapers. A thousand times +better accept what Soames and the gods had sent! + +'Besides,' he thought honestly, 'who knows whether, even for my boy's +sake, I could have stood this state of things much longer? Anyway, her +neck will be out of chancery at last!' Thus absorbed, he was hardly +conscious of the heavy heat. The sky had become overcast, purplish with +little streaks of white. A heavy heat-drop plashed a little star pattern +in the dust of the road as he entered the Park. 'Phew!' he thought, +'thunder! I hope she's not come to meet me; there's a ducking up there!' +But at that very minute he saw Irene coming towards the Gate. 'We must +scuttle back to Robin Hill,' he thought. + + *************************** + +The storm had passed over the Poultry at four o'clock, bringing welcome +distraction to the clerks in every office. Soames was drinking a cup of +tea when a note was brought in to him: + +"DEAR SIR, + +"Forsyte v. Forsyte and Forsyte + +"In accordance with your instructions, we beg to inform you that we +personally served the respondent and co-respondent in this suit to-day, +at Richmond, and Robin Hill, respectively. +"Faithfully yours, +"LINKMAN AND LAVER." + +For some minutes Soames stared at that note. Ever since he had given +those instructions he had been tempted to annul them. It was so +scandalous, such a general disgrace! The evidence, too, what he had +heard of it, had never seemed to him conclusive; somehow, he believed +less and less that those two had gone all lengths. But this, of course, +would drive them to it; and he suffered from the thought. That fellow to +have her love, where he had failed! Was it too late? Now that they had +been brought up sharp by service of this petition, had he not a lever +with which he could force them apart? 'But if I don't act at once,' he +thought, 'it will be too late, now they've had this thing. I'll go and +see him; I'll go down!' + +And, sick with nervous anxiety, he sent out for one of the 'new-fangled' +motor-cabs. It might take a long time to run that fellow to ground, and +Goodness knew what decision they might come to after such a shock! 'If I +were a theatrical ass,' he thought, 'I suppose I should be taking a +horse-whip or a pistol or something!' He took instead a bundle of papers +in the case of 'Magentie versus Wake,' intending to read them on the way +down. He did not even open them, but sat quite still, jolted and jarred, +unconscious of the draught down the back of his neck, or the smell of +petrol. He must be guided by the fellow's attitude; the great thing was +to keep his head! + +London had already begun to disgorge its workers as he neared Putney +Bridge; the ant-heap was on the move outwards. What a lot of ants, all +with a living to get, holding on by their eyelids in the great scramble! +Perhaps for the first time in his life Soames thought: 'I could let go if +I liked! Nothing could touch me; I could snap my fingers, live as I +wished--enjoy myself!' No! One could not live as he had and just drop +it all--settle down in Capua, to spend the money and reputation he had +made. A man's life was what he possessed and sought to possess. Only +fools thought otherwise--fools, and socialists, and libertines! + +The cab was passing villas now, going a great pace. 'Fifteen miles an +hour, I should think!' he mused; 'this'll take people out of town to +live!' and he thought of its bearing on the portions of London owned by +his father--he himself had never taken to that form of investment, the +gambler in him having all the outlet needed in his pictures. And the cab +sped on, down the hill past Wimbledon Common. This interview! Surely a +man of fifty-two with grown-up children, and hung on the line, would not +be reckless. 'He won't want to disgrace the family,' he thought; 'he was +as fond of his father as I am of mine, and they were brothers. That +woman brings destruction--what is it in her? I've never known.' The cab +branched off, along the side of a wood, and he heard a late cuckoo +calling, almost the first he had heard that year. He was now almost +opposite the site he had originally chosen for his house, and which had +been so unceremoniously rejected by Bosinney in favour of his own choice. +He began passing his handkerchief over his face and hands, taking deep +breaths to give him steadiness. 'Keep one's head,' he thought, 'keep +one's head!' + +The cab turned in at the drive which might have been his own, and the +sound of music met him. He had forgotten the fellow's daughters. + +"I may be out again directly," he said to the driver, "or I may be kept +some time"; and he rang the bell. + +Following the maid through the curtains into the inner hall, he felt +relieved that the impact of this meeting would be broken by June or +Holly, whichever was playing in there, so that with complete surprise he +saw Irene at the piano, and Jolyon sitting in an armchair listening. +They both stood up. Blood surged into Soames' brain, and all his +resolution to be guided by this or that left him utterly. The look of +his farmer forbears--dogged Forsytes down by the sea, from 'Superior +Dosset' back--grinned out of his face. + +"Very pretty!" he said. + +He heard the fellow murmur: + +"This is hardly the place--we'll go to the study, if you don't mind." +And they both passed him through the curtain opening. In the little room +to which he followed them, Irene stood by the open window, and the +'fellow' close to her by a big chair. Soames pulled the door to behind +him with a slam; the sound carried him back all those years to the day +when he had shut out Jolyon--shut him out for meddling with his affairs. + +"Well," he said, "what have you to say for yourselves?" + +The fellow had the effrontery to smile. + +"What we have received to-day has taken away your right to ask. I should +imagine you will be glad to have your neck out of chancery." + +"Oh!" said Soames; "you think so! I came to tell you that I'll divorce +her with every circumstance of disgrace to you both, unless you swear to +keep clear of each other from now on." + +He was astonished at his fluency, because his mind was stammering and his +hands twitching. Neither of them answered; but their faces seemed to him +as if contemptuous. + +"Well," he said; "you--Irene?" + +Her lips moved, but Jolyon laid his hand on her arm. + +"Let her alone!" said Soames furiously. "Irene, will you swear it?" + +"No." + +"Oh! and you?" + +"Still less." + +"So then you're guilty, are you?" + +"Yes, guilty." It was Irene speaking in that serene voice, with that +unreached air which had maddened him so often; and, carried beyond +himself, he cried: + +"You are a devil" + +"Go out! Leave this house, or I'll do you an injury." + +That fellow to talk of injuries! Did he know how near his throat was to +being scragged? + +"A trustee," he said, "embezzling trust property! A thief, stealing his +cousin's wife." + +"Call me what you like. You have chosen your part, we have chosen ours. +Go out!" + +If he had brought a weapon Soames might have used it at that moment. + +"I'll make you pay!" he said. + +"I shall be very happy." + +At that deadly turning of the meaning of his speech by the son of him who +had nicknamed him 'the man of property,' Soames stood glaring. It was +ridiculous! + +There they were, kept from violence by some secret force. No blow +possible, no words to meet the case. But he could not, did not know how +to turn and go away. His eyes fastened on Irene's face--the last time +he would ever see that fatal face--the last time, no doubt! + +"You," he said suddenly, "I hope you'll treat him as you treated +me--that's all." + +He saw her wince, and with a sensation not quite triumph, not quite +relief, he wrenched open the door, passed out through the hall, and got +into his cab. He lolled against the cushion with his eyes shut. Never +in his life had he been so near to murderous violence, never so thrown +away the restraint which was his second nature. He had a stripped and +naked feeling, as if all virtue had gone out of him--life meaningless, +mind-striking work. Sunlight streamed in on him, but he felt cold. The +scene he had passed through had gone from him already, what was before +him would not materialise, he could catch on to nothing; and he felt +frightened, as if he had been hanging over the edge of a precipice, as if +with another turn of the screw sanity would have failed him. 'I'm not +fit for it,' he thought; 'I mustn't--I'm not fit for it.' The cab sped +on, and in mechanical procession trees, houses, people passed, but had no +significance. 'I feel very queer,' he thought; 'I'll take a Turkish +bath.--I've been very near to something. It won't do.' The cab whirred +its way back over the bridge, up the Fulham Road, along the Park. + +"To the Hammam," said Soames. + +Curious that on so warm a summer day, heat should be so comforting! +Crossing into the hot room he met George Forsyte coming out, red and +glistening. + +"Hallo!" said George; "what are you training for? You've not got much +superfluous." + +Buffoon! Soames passed him with his sideway smile. Lying back, rubbing +his skin uneasily for the first signs of perspiration, he thought: 'Let +them laugh! I won't feel anything! I can't stand violence! It's not +good for me!' + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A SUMMER NIGHT + +Soames left dead silence in the little study. "Thank you for that good +lie," said Jolyon suddenly. "Come out--the air in here is not what it +was!" + +In front of a long high southerly wall on which were trained peach-trees +the two walked up and down in silence. Old Jolyon had planted some +cupressus-trees, at intervals, between this grassy terrace and the +dipping meadow full of buttercups and ox-eyed daisies; for twelve years +they had flourished, till their dark spiral shapes had quite a look of +Italy. Birds fluttered softly in the wet shrubbery; the swallows swooped +past, with a steel-blue sheen on their swift little bodies; the grass +felt springy beneath the feet, its green refreshed; butterflies chased +each other. After that painful scene the quiet of Nature was wonderfully +poignant. Under the sun-soaked wall ran a narrow strip of garden-bed +full of mignonette and pansies, and from the bees came a low hum in which +all other sounds were set--the mooing of a cow deprived of her calf, the +calling of a cuckoo from an elm-tree at the bottom of the meadow. Who +would have thought that behind them, within ten miles, London began--that +London of the Forsytes, with its wealth, its misery; its dirt and noise; +its jumbled stone isles of beauty, its grey sea of hideous brick and +stucco? That London which had seen Irene's early tragedy, and Jolyon's +own hard days; that web; that princely workhouse of the possessive +instinct! + +And while they walked Jolyon pondered those words: 'I hope you'll treat +him as you treated me.' That would depend on himself. Could he trust +himself? Did Nature permit a Forsyte not to make a slave of what he +adored? Could beauty be confided to him? Or should she not be just a +visitor, coming when she would, possessed for moments which passed, to +return only at her own choosing? 'We are a breed of spoilers!' thought +Jolyon, 'close and greedy; the bloom of life is not safe with us. Let +her come to me as she will, when she will, not at all if she will not. +Let me be just her stand-by, her perching-place; never-never her cage!' + +She was the chink of beauty in his dream. Was he to pass through the +curtains now and reach her? Was the rich stuff of many possessions, the +close encircling fabric of the possessive instinct walling in that little +black figure of himself, and Soames--was it to be rent so that he could +pass through into his vision, find there something not of the senses +only? 'Let me,' he thought, 'ah! let me only know how not to grasp and +destroy!' + +But at dinner there were plans to be made. To-night she would go back to +the hotel, but tomorrow he would take her up to London. He must instruct +his solicitor--Jack Herring. Not a finger must be raised to hinder the +process of the Law. Damages exemplary, judicial strictures, costs, what +they liked--let it go through at the first moment, so that her neck might +be out of chancery at last! To-morrow he would see Herring--they would +go and see him together. And then--abroad, leaving no doubt, no +difficulty about evidence, making the lie she had told into the truth. +He looked round at her; and it seemed to his adoring eyes that more than +a woman was sitting there. The spirit of universal beauty, deep, +mysterious, which the old painters, Titian, Giorgione, Botticelli, had +known how to capture and transfer to the faces of their women--this +flying beauty seemed to him imprinted on her brow, her hair, her lips, +and in her eyes. + +'And this is to be mine!' he thought. 'It frightens me!' + +After dinner they went out on to the terrace to have coffee. They sat +there long, the evening was so lovely, watching the summer night come +very slowly on. It was still warm and the air smelled of lime +blossom--early this summer. Two bats were flighting with the faint +mysterious little noise they make. He had placed the chairs in front of +the study window, and moths flew past to visit the discreet light in +there. There was no wind, and not a whisper in the old oak-tree twenty +yards away! The moon rose from behind the copse, nearly full; and the +two lights struggled, till moonlight conquered, changing the colour and +quality of all the garden, stealing along the flagstones, reaching their +feet, climbing up, changing their faces. + +"Well," said Jolyon at last, "you'll be tired, dear; we'd better start. +The maid will show you Holly's room," and he rang the study bell. The +maid who came handed him a telegram. Watching her take Irene away, he +thought: 'This must have come an hour or more ago, and she didn't bring +it out to us! That shows! Well, we'll be hung for a sheep soon!' And, +opening the telegram, he read: + +"JOLYON FORSYTE, Robin Hill.--Your son passed painlessly away on June +20th. Deep sympathy"--some name unknown to him. + +He dropped it, spun round, stood motionless. The moon shone in on him; a +moth flew in his face. The first day of all that he had not thought +almost ceaselessly of Jolly. He went blindly towards the window, struck +against the old armchair--his father's--and sank down on to the arm of +it. He sat there huddled' forward, staring into the night. Gone out +like a candle flame; far from home, from love, all by himself, in the +dark! His boy! From a little chap always so good to him--so friendly! +Twenty years old, and cut down like grass--to have no life at all! 'I +didn't really know him,' he thought, 'and he didn't know me; but we loved +each other. It's only love that matters.' + +To die out there--lonely--wanting them--wanting home! This seemed to his +Forsyte heart more painful, more pitiful than death itself. No shelter, +no protection, no love at the last! And all the deeply rooted clanship +in him, the family feeling and essential clinging to his own flesh and +blood which had been so strong in old Jolyon was so strong in all the +Forsytes--felt outraged, cut, and torn by his boy's lonely passing. +Better far if he had died in battle, without time to long for them to +come to him, to call out for them, perhaps, in his delirium! + +The moon had passed behind the oak-tree now, endowing it with uncanny +life, so that it seemed watching him--the oak-tree his boy had been so +fond of climbing, out of which he had once fallen and hurt himself, and +hadn't cried! + +The door creaked. He saw Irene come in, pick up the telegram and read +it. He heard the faint rustle of her dress. She sank on her knees close +to him, and he forced himself to smile at her. She stretched up her arms +and drew his head down on her shoulder. The perfume and warmth of her +encircled him; her presence gained slowly his whole being. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JAMES IN WAITING + +Sweated to serenity, Soames dined at the Remove and turned his face +toward Park Lane. His father had been unwell lately. This would have to +be kept from him! Never till that moment had he realised how much the +dread of bringing James' grey hairs down with sorrow to the grave had +counted with him; how intimately it was bound up with his own shrinking +from scandal. His affection for his father, always deep, had increased +of late years with the knowledge that James looked on him as the real +prop of his decline. It seemed pitiful that one who had been so careful +all his life and done so much for the family name--so that it was almost +a byword for solid, wealthy respectability--should at his last gasp have +to see it in all the newspapers. This was like lending a hand to Death, +that final enemy of Forsytes. 'I must tell mother,' he thought, 'and +when it comes on, we must keep the papers from him somehow. He sees +hardly anyone.' Letting himself in with his latchkey, he was beginning +to ascend he stairs when he became conscious of commotion on the +second-floor landing. His mother's voice was saying: + +"Now, James, you'll catch cold. Why can't you wait quietly?" + +His father's answering + +"Wait? I'm always waiting. Why doesn't he come in?" + +"You can speak to him to-morrow morning, instead of making a guy of +yourself on the landing." + +"He'll go up to bed, I shouldn't wonder. I shan't sleep." + +"Now come back to bed, James." + +"Um! I might die before to-morrow morning for all you can tell." + +"You shan't have to wait till to-morrow morning; I'll go down and bring +him up. Don't fuss!" + +"There you go--always so cock-a-hoop. He mayn't come in at all." + +"Well, if he doesn't come in you won't catch him by standing out here in +your dressing-gown." + +Soames rounded the last bend and came in sight of his father's tall +figure wrapped in a brown silk quilted gown, stooping over the balustrade +above. Light fell on his silvery hair and whiskers, investing his head +with, a sort of halo. + +"Here he is!" he heard him say in a voice which sounded injured, and his +mother's comfortable answer from the bedroom door: + +"That's all right. Come in, and I'll brush your hair." James extended a +thin, crooked finger, oddly like the beckoning of a skeleton, and passed +through the doorway of his bedroom. + +'What is it?' thought Soames. 'What has he got hold of now?' + +His father was sitting before the dressing-table sideways to the mirror, +while Emily slowly passed two silver-backed brushes through and through +his hair. She would do this several times a day, for it had on him +something of the effect produced on a cat by scratching between its ears. + +"There you are!" he said. "I've been waiting." + +Soames stroked his shoulder, and, taking up a silver button-hook, +examined the mark on it. + +"Well," he said, "you're looking better." + +James shook his head. + +"I want to say something. Your mother hasn't heard." He announced +Emily's ignorance of what he hadn't told her, as if it were a grievance. + +"Your father's been in a great state all the evening. I'm sure I don't +know what about." + +The faint 'whisk-whisk' of the brushes continued the soothing of her +voice. + +"No! you know nothing," said James. "Soames can tell me." And, fixing +his grey eyes, in which there was a look of strain, uncomfortable to +watch, on his son, he muttered: + +"I'm getting on, Soames. At my age I can't tell. I might die any time. +There'll be a lot of money. There's Rachel and Cicely got no children; +and Val's out there--that chap his father will get hold of all he can. +And somebody'll pick up Imogen, I shouldn't wonder." + +Soames listened vaguely--he had heard all this before. Whish-whish! went +the brushes. + +"If that's all!" said Emily. + +"All!" cried James; "it's nothing. I'm coming to that." And again his +eyes strained pitifully at Soames. + +"It's you, my boy," he said suddenly; "you ought to get a divorce." + +That word, from those of all lips, was almost too much for Soames' +composure. His eyes reconcentrated themselves quickly on the buttonhook, +and as if in apology James hurried on: + +"I don't know what's become of her--they say she's abroad. Your Uncle +Swithin used to admire her--he was a funny fellow." (So he always +alluded to his dead twin-'The Stout and the Lean of it,' they had been +called.) "She wouldn't be alone, I should say." And with that +summing-up of the effect of beauty on human nature, he was silent, +watching his son with eyes doubting as a bird's. Soames, too, was silent. +Whish-whish went the brushes. + +"Come, James! Soames knows best. It's his 'business." + +"Ah!" said James, and the word came from deep down; "but there's all my +money, and there's his--who's it to go to? And when he dies the name +goes out." + +Soames replaced the button-hook on the lace and pink silk of the +dressing-table coverlet. + +"The name?" said Emily, "there are all the other Forsytes." + +"As if that helped me," muttered James. "I shall be in my grave, and +there'll be nobody, unless he marries again." + +"You're quite right," said Soames quietly; "I'm getting a divorce." + +James' eyes almost started from his head. + +"What?" he cried. "There! nobody tells me anything." + +"Well," said Emily, "who would have imagined you wanted it? My dear boy, +that is a surprise, after all these years." + +"It'll be a scandal," muttered James, as if to himself; "but I can't help +that. Don't brush so hard. When'll it come on?" + +"Before the Long Vacation; it's not defended." + +James' lips moved in secret calculation. "I shan't live to see my +grandson," he muttered. + +Emily ceased brushing. "Of course you will, James. Soames will be as +quick as he can." + +There was a long silence, till James reached out his arm. + +"Here! let's have the eau-de-Cologne," and, putting it to his nose, he +moved his forehead in the direction of his son. Soames bent over and +kissed that brow just where the hair began. A relaxing quiver passed +over James' face, as though the wheels of anxiety within were running +down. + +"I'll get to bed," he said; "I shan't want to see the papers when that +comes. They're a morbid lot; I can't pay attention to them, I'm too +old." + +Queerly affected, Soames went to the door; he heard his father say: + +"Here, I'm tired. I'll say a prayer in bed." + +And his mother answering + +"That's right, James; it'll be ever so much more comfy." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +OUT OF THE WEB + +On Forsyte 'Change the announcement of Jolly's death, among a batch of +troopers, caused mixed sensation. Strange to read that Jolyon Forsyte +(fifth of the name in direct descent) had died of disease in the service +of his country, and not be able to feel it personally. It revived the +old grudge against his father for having estranged himself. For such was +still the prestige of old Jolyon that the other Forsytes could never +quite feel, as might have been expected, that it was they who had cut off +his descendants for irregularity. The news increased, of course, the +interest and anxiety about Val; but then Val's name was Dartie, and even +if he were killed in battle or got the Victoria Cross, it would not be at +all the same as if his name were Forsyte. Not even casualty or glory to +the Haymans would be really satisfactory. Family pride felt defrauded. + +How the rumour arose, then, that 'something very dreadful, my dear,' was +pending, no one, least of all Soames, could tell, secret as he kept +everything. Possibly some eye had seen 'Forsyte v. Forsyte and Forsyte,' +in the cause list; and had added it to 'Irene in Paris with a fair +beard.' Possibly some wall at Park Lane had ears. The fact remained +that it was known--whispered among the old, discussed among the +young--that family pride must soon receive a blow. + +Soames, paying one, of his Sunday visits to Timothy's--paying it with the +feeling that after the suit came on he would be paying no more--felt +knowledge in the air as he came in. Nobody, of course, dared speak of it +before him, but each of the four other Forsytes present held their +breath, aware that nothing could prevent Aunt Juley from making them all +uncomfortable. She looked so piteously at Soames, she checked herself on +the point of speech so often, that Aunt Hester excused herself and said +she must go and bathe Timothy's eye--he had a sty coming. Soames, +impassive, slightly supercilious, did not stay long. He went out with a +curse stifled behind his pale, just smiling lips. + +Fortunately for the peace of his mind, cruelly tortured by the coming +scandal, he was kept busy day and night with plans for his +retirement--for he had come to that grim conclusion. To go on seeing all +those people who had known him as a 'long-headed chap,' an astute +adviser--after that--no! The fastidiousness and pride which was so +strangely, so inextricably blended in him with possessive obtuseness, +revolted against the thought. He would retire, live privately, go on +buying pictures, make a great name as a collector--after all, his heart +was more in that than it had ever been in Law. In pursuance of this now +fixed resolve, he had to get ready to amalgamate his business with +another firm without letting people know, for that would excite curiosity +and make humiliation cast its shadow before. He had pitched on the firm +of Cuthcott, Holliday and Kingson, two of whom were dead. The full name +after the amalgamation would therefore be Cuthcott, Holliday, Kingson, +Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte. But after debate as to which of the dead +still had any influence with the living, it was decided to reduce the +title to Cuthcott, Kingson and Forsyte, of whom Kingson would be the +active and Soames the sleeping partner. For leaving his name, prestige, +and clients behind him, Soames would receive considerable value. + +One night, as befitted a man who had arrived at so important a stage of +his career, he made a calculation of what he was worth, and after writing +off liberally for depreciation by the war, found his value to be some +hundred and thirty thousand pounds. At his father's death, which could +not, alas, be delayed much longer, he must come into at least another +fifty thousand, and his yearly expenditure at present just reached two. +Standing among his pictures, he saw before him a future full of bargains +earned by the trained faculty of knowing better than other people. +Selling what was about to decline, keeping what was still going up, and +exercising judicious insight into future taste, he would make a unique +collection, which at his death would pass to the nation under the title +'Forsyte Bequest.' + +If the divorce went through, he had determined on his line with Madame +Lamotte. She had, he knew, but one real ambition--to live on her +'renter' in Paris near her grandchildren. He would buy the goodwill of +the Restaurant Bretagne at a fancy price. Madame would live like a +Queen-Mother in Paris on the interest, invested as she would know how. +(Incidentally Soames meant to put a capable manager in her place, and +make the restaurant pay good interest on his money. There were great +possibilities in Soho.) On Annette he would promise to settle fifteen +thousand pounds (whether designedly or not), precisely the sum old Jolyon +had settled on 'that woman.' + +A letter from Jolyon's solicitor to his own had disclosed the fact that +'those two' were in Italy. And an opportunity had been duly given for +noting that they had first stayed at an hotel in London. The matter was +clear as daylight, and would be disposed of in half an hour or so; but +during that half-hour he, Soames, would go down to hell; and after that +half-hour all bearers of the Forsyte name would feel the bloom was off +the rose. He had no illusions like Shakespeare that roses by any other +name would smell as sweet. The name was a possession, a concrete, +unstained piece of property, the value of which would be reduced some +twenty per cent. at least. Unless it were Roger, who had once refused to +stand for Parliament, and--oh, irony!--Jolyon, hung on the line, there +had never been a distinguished Forsyte. But that very lack of +distinction was the name's greatest asset. It was a private name, +intensely individual, and his own property; it had never been exploited +for good or evil by intrusive report. He and each member of his family +owned it wholly, sanely, secretly, without any more interference from the +public than had been necessitated by their births, their marriages, their +deaths. And during these weeks of waiting and preparing to drop the Law, +he conceived for that Law a bitter distaste, so deeply did he resent its +coming violation of his name, forced on him by the need he felt to +perpetuate that name in a lawful manner. The monstrous injustice of the +whole thing excited in him a perpetual suppressed fury. He had asked no +better than to live in spotless domesticity, and now he must go into the +witness box, after all these futile, barren years, and proclaim his +failure to keep his wife--incur the pity, the amusement, the contempt of +his kind. It was all upside down. She and that fellow ought to be the +sufferers, and they--were in Italy! In these weeks the Law he had served +so faithfully, looked on so reverently as the guardian of all property, +seemed to him quite pitiful. What could be more insane than to tell a +man that he owned his wife, and punish him when someone unlawfully took +her away from him? Did the Law not know that a man's name was to him the +apple of his eye, that it was far harder to be regarded as cuckold than +as seducer? He actually envied Jolyon the reputation of succeeding where +he, Soames, had failed. The question of damages worried him, too. He +wanted to make that fellow suffer, but he remembered his cousin's words, +"I shall be very happy," with the uneasy feeling that to claim damages +would make not Jolyon but himself suffer; he felt uncannily that Jolyon +would rather like to pay them--the chap was so loose. Besides, to claim +damages was not the thing to do. The claim, indeed, had been made almost +mechanically; and as the hour drew near Soames saw in it just another +dodge of this insensitive and topsy-turvy Law to make him ridiculous; so +that people might sneer and say: "Oh, yes, he got quite a good price for +her!" And he gave instructions that his Counsel should state that the +money would be given to a Home for Fallen Women. He was a long time +hitting off exactly the right charity; but, having pitched on it, he used +to wake up in the night and think: 'It won't do, too lurid; it'll draw +attention. Something quieter--better taste.' He did not care for dogs, +or he would have named them; and it was in desperation at last--for his +knowledge of charities was limited--that he decided on the blind. That +could not be inappropriate, and it would make the Jury assess the damages +high. + +A good many suits were dropping out of the list, which happened to be +exceptionally thin that summer, so that his case would be reached before +August. As the day grew nearer, Winifred was his only comfort. She +showed the fellow-feeling of one who had been through the mill, and was +the 'femme-sole' in whom he confided, well knowing that she would not let +Dartie into her confidence. That ruffian would be only too rejoiced! At +the end of July, on the afternoon before the case, he went in to see her. +They had not yet been able to leave town, because Dartie had already +spent their summer holiday, and Winifred dared not go to her father for +more money while he was waiting not to be told anything about this affair +of Soames. + +Soames found her with a letter in her hand. + +"That from Val," he asked gloomily. "What does he say?" + +"He says he's married," said Winifred. + +"Whom to, for Goodness' sake?" + +Winifred looked up at him. + +"To Holly Forsyte, Jolyon's daughter." + +"What?" + +"He got leave and did it. I didn't even know he knew her. Awkward, isn't +it?" + +Soames uttered a short laugh at that characteristic minimisation. + +"Awkward! Well, I don't suppose they'll hear about this till they come +back. They'd better stay out there. That fellow will give her money." + +"But I want Val back," said Winifred almost piteously; "I miss him, he +helps me to get on." + +"I know," murmured Soames. "How's Dartie behaving now?" + +"It might be worse; but it's always money. Would you like me to come +down to the Court to-morrow, Soames?" + +Soames stretched out his hand for hers. The gesture so betrayed the +loneliness in him that she pressed it between her two. + +"Never mind, old boy. You'll feel ever so much better when it's all +over." + +"I don't know what I've done," said Soames huskily; "I never have. It's +all upside down. I was fond of her; I've always been." + +Winifred saw a drop of blood ooze out of his lip, and the sight stirred +her profoundly. + +"Of course," she said, "it's been too bad of her all along! But what +shall I do about this marriage of Val's, Soames? I don't know how to +write to him, with this coming on. You've seen that child. Is she +pretty?" + +"Yes, she's pretty," said Soames. "Dark--lady-like enough." + +'That doesn't sound so bad,' thought Winifred. 'Jolyon had style.' + +"It is a coil," she said. "What will father say? + +"Mustn't be told," said Soames. "The war'll soon be over now, you'd +better let Val take to farming out there." + +It was tantamount to saying that his nephew was lost. + +"I haven't told Monty," Winifred murmured desolately. + +The case was reached before noon next day, and was over in little more +than half an hour. Soames--pale, spruce, sad-eyed in the +witness-box--had suffered so much beforehand that he took it all like one +dead. The moment the decree nisi was pronounced he left the Courts of +Justice. + +Four hours until he became public property! 'Solicitor's divorce suit!' +A surly, dogged anger replaced that dead feeling within him. 'Damn them +all!' he thought; 'I won't run away. I'll act as if nothing had +happened.' And in the sweltering heat of Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill +he walked all the way to his City Club, lunched, and went back to his +office. He worked there stolidly throughout the afternoon. + +On his way out he saw that his clerks knew, and answered their +involuntary glances with a look so sardonic that they were immediately +withdrawn. In front of St. Paul's, he stopped to buy the most +gentlemanly of the evening papers. Yes! there he was! 'Well-known +solicitor's divorce. Cousin co-respondent. Damages given to the +blind'--so, they had got that in! At every other face, he thought: 'I +wonder if you know!' And suddenly he felt queer, as if something were +racing round in his head. + +What was this? He was letting it get hold of him! He mustn't! He would +be ill. He mustn't think! He would get down to the river and row about, +and fish. 'I'm not going to be laid up,' he thought. + +It flashed across him that he had something of importance to do before he +went out of town. Madame Lamotte! He must explain the Law. Another six +months before he was really free! Only he did not want to see Annette! +And he passed his hand over the top of his head--it was very hot. + +He branched off through Covent Garden. On this sultry day of late July +the garbage-tainted air of the old market offended him, and Soho seemed +more than ever the disenchanted home of rapscallionism. Alone, the +Restaurant Bretagne, neat, daintily painted, with its blue tubs and the +dwarf trees therein, retained an aloof and Frenchified self-respect. It +was the slack hour, and pale trim waitresses were preparing the little +tables for dinner. Soames went through into the private part. To his +discomfiture Annette answered his knock. She, too, looked pale and +dragged down by the heat. + +"You are quite a stranger," she said languidly. + +Soames smiled. + +"I haven't wished to be; I've been busy." + +"Where's your mother, Annette? I've got some news for her." + +"Mother is not in." + +It seemed to Soames that she looked at him in a queer way. What did she +know? How much had her mother told her? The worry of trying to make +that out gave him an alarming feeling in the head. He gripped the edge of +the table, and dizzily saw Annette come forward, her eyes clear with +surprise. He shut his own and said: + +"It's all right. I've had a touch of the sun, I think." The sun! What +he had was a touch of 'darkness! Annette's voice, French and composed, +said: + +"Sit down, it will pass, then." Her hand pressed his shoulder, and +Soames sank into a chair. When the dark feeling dispersed, and he opened +his eyes, she was looking down at him. What an inscrutable and odd +expression for a girl of twenty! + +"Do you feel better?" + +"It's nothing," said Soames. Instinct told him that to be feeble before +her was not helping him--age was enough handicap without that. +Will-power was his fortune with Annette, he had lost ground these latter +months from indecision--he could not afford to lose any more. He got up, +and said: + +"I'll write to your mother. I'm going down to my river house for a long +holiday. I want you both to come there presently and stay. It's just at +its best. You will, won't you?" + +"It will be veree nice." A pretty little roll of that 'r' but no +enthusiasm. And rather sadly he added: + +"You're feeling the heat; too, aren't you, Annette? It'll do you good to +be on the river. Good-night." Annette swayed forward. There was a sort +of compunction in the movement. + +"Are you fit to go? Shall I give you some coffee?" + +"No," said Soames firmly. "Give me your hand." + +She held out her hand, and Soames raised it to his lips. When he looked +up, her face wore again that strange expression. 'I can't tell,' he +thought, as he went out; 'but I mustn't think--I mustn't worry: + +But worry he did, walking toward Pall Mall. English, not of her +religion, middle-aged, scarred as it were by domestic tragedy, what had +he to give her? Only wealth, social position, leisure, admiration! It +was much, but was it enough for a beautiful girl of twenty? He felt so +ignorant about Annette. He had, too, a curious fear of the French nature +of her mother and herself. They knew so well what they wanted. They +were almost Forsytes. They would never grasp a shadow and miss a +substance. + +The tremendous effort it was to write a simple note to Madame Lamotte +when he reached his Club warned him still further that he was at the end +of his tether. + +"MY DEAR MADAME (he said), + +"You will see by the enclosed newspaper cutting that I obtained my decree +of divorce to-day. By the English Law I shall not, however, be free to +marry again till the decree is confirmed six months hence. In the +meanwhile I have the honor to ask to be considered a formal suitor for +the hand of your daughter. I shall write again in a few days and beg you +both to come and stay at my river house. +"I am, dear Madame, +"Sincerely yours, +"SOAMES FORSYTE." + +Having sealed and posted this letter, he went into the dining-room. Three +mouthfuls of soup convinced him that he could not eat; and, causing a cab +to be summoned, he drove to Paddington Station and took the first train +to Reading. He reached his house just as the sun went down, and wandered +out on to the lawn. The air was drenched with the scent of pinks and +picotees in his flower-borders. A stealing coolness came off the river. + +Rest-peace! Let a poor fellow rest! Let not worry and shame and anger +chase like evil night-birds in his head! Like those doves perched +half-sleeping on their dovecot, like the furry creatures in the woods on +the far side, and the simple folk in their cottages, like the trees and +the river itself, whitening fast in twilight, like the darkening +cornflower-blue sky where stars were coming up--let him cease from +himself, and rest! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +PASSING OF AN AGE + +The marriage of Soames with Annette took place in Paris on the last day +of January, 1901, with such privacy that not even Emily was told until it +was accomplished. + +The day after the wedding he brought her to one of those quiet hotels in +London where greater expense can be incurred for less result than +anywhere else under heaven. Her beauty in the best Parisian frocks was +giving him more satisfaction than if he had collected a perfect bit of +china, or a jewel of a picture; he looked forward to the moment when he +would exhibit her in Park Lane, in Green Street, and at Timothy's. + +If some one had asked him in those days, "In confidence--are you in love +with this girl?" he would have replied: "In love? What is love? If you +mean do I feel to her as I did towards Irene in those old days when I +first met her and she would not have me; when I sighed and starved after +her and couldn't rest a minute until she yielded--no! If you mean do I +admire her youth and prettiness, do my senses ache a little when I see +her moving about--yes! Do I think she will keep me straight, make me a +creditable wife and a good mother for my children?--again, yes!" + +"What more do I need? and what more do three-quarters of the women who +are married get from the men who marry them?" And if the enquirer had +pursued his query, "And do you think it was fair to have tempted this +girl to give herself to you for life unless you have really touched her +heart?" he would have answered: "The French see these things differently +from us. They look at marriage from the point of view of establishments +and children; and, from my own experience, I am not at all sure that +theirs is not the sensible view. I shall not expect this time more than +I can get, or she can give. Years hence I shouldn't be surprised if I +have trouble with her; but I shall be getting old, I shall have children +by then. I shall shut my eyes. I have had my great passion; hers is +perhaps to come--I don't suppose it will be for me. I offer her a great +deal, and I don't expect much in return, except children, or at least a +son. But one thing I am sure of--she has very good sense!" + +And if, insatiate, the enquirer had gone on, "You do not look, then, for +spiritual union in this marriage?" Soames would have lifted his sideway +smile, and rejoined: "That's as it may be. If I get satisfaction for my +senses, perpetuation of myself; good taste and good humour in the house; +it is all I can expect at my age. I am not likely to be going out of my +way towards any far-fetched sentimentalism." Whereon, the enquirer must +in good taste have ceased enquiry. + +The Queen was dead, and the air of the greatest city upon earth grey with +unshed tears. Fur-coated and top-hatted, with Annette beside him in dark +furs, Soames crossed Park Lane on the morning of the funeral procession, +to the rails in Hyde Park. Little moved though he ever was by public +matters, this event, supremely symbolical, this summing-up of a long rich +period, impressed his fancy. In '37, when she came to the throne, +'Superior Dosset' was still building houses to make London hideous; and +James, a stripling of twenty-six, just laying the foundations of his +practice in the Law. Coaches still ran; men wore stocks, shaved their +upper lips, ate oysters out of barrels; 'tigers' swung behind cabriolets; +women said, 'La!' and owned no property; there were manners in the land, +and pigsties for the poor; unhappy devils were hanged for little crimes, +and Dickens had but just begun to write. Well-nigh two generations had +slipped by--of steamboats, railways, telegraphs, bicycles, electric +light, telephones, and now these motorcars--of such accumulated wealth, +that eight per cent. had become three, and Forsytes were numbered by the +thousand! Morals had changed, manners had changed, men had become +monkeys twice-removed, God had become Mammon--Mammon so respectable as to +deceive himself: Sixty-four years that favoured property, and had made +the upper middle class; buttressed, chiselled, polished it, till it was +almost indistinguishable in manners, morals, speech, appearance, habit, +and soul from the nobility. An epoch which had gilded individual liberty +so that if a man had money, he was free in law and fact, and if he had +not money he was free in law and not in fact. An era which had canonised +hypocrisy, so that to seem to be respectable was to be. A great Age, +whose transmuting influence nothing had escaped save the nature of man +and the nature of the Universe. + +And to witness the passing of this Age, London--its pet and fancy--was +pouring forth her citizens through every gate into Hyde Park, hub of +Victorianism, happy hunting-ground of Forsytes. Under the grey heavens, +whose drizzle just kept off, the dark concourse gathered to see the show. +The 'good old' Queen, full of years and virtue, had emerged from her +seclusion for the last time to make a London holiday. From Houndsditch, +Acton, Ealing, Hampstead, Islington, and Bethnal Green; from Hackney, +Hornsey, Leytonstone, Battersea, and Fulham; and from those green +pastures where Forsytes flourish--Mayfair and Kensington, St. James' and +Belgravia, Bayswater and Chelsea and the Regent's Park, the people +swarmed down on to the roads where death would presently pass with dusky +pomp and pageantry. Never again would a Queen reign so long, or people +have a chance to see so much history buried for their money. A pity the +war dragged on, and that the Wreath of Victory could not be laid upon her +coffin! All else would be there to follow and commemorate--soldiers, +sailors, foreign princes, half-masted bunting, tolling bells, and above +all the surging, great, dark-coated crowd, with perhaps a simple sadness +here and there deep in hearts beneath black clothes put on by regulation. +After all, more than a Queen was going to her rest, a woman who had +braved sorrow, lived well and wisely according to her lights. + +Out in the crowd against the railings, with his arm hooked in Annette's, +Soames waited. Yes! the Age was passing! What with this Trade Unionism, +and Labour fellows in the House of Commons, with continental fiction, and +something in the general feel of everything, not to be expressed in +words, things were very different; he recalled the crowd on Mafeking +night, and George Forsyte saying: "They're all socialists, they want our +goods." Like James, Soames didn't know, he couldn't tell--with Edward on +the throne! Things would never be as safe again as under good old Viccy! +Convulsively he pressed his young wife's arm. There, at any rate, was +something substantially his own, domestically certain again at last; +something which made property worth while--a real thing once more. +Pressed close against her and trying to ward others off, Soames was +content. The crowd swayed round them, ate sandwiches and dropped crumbs; +boys who had climbed the plane-trees chattered above like monkeys, threw +twigs and orange-peel. It was past time; they should be coming soon! +And, suddenly, a little behind them to the left, he saw a tallish man +with a soft hat and short grizzling beard, and a tallish woman in a +little round fur cap and veil. Jolyon and Irene talking, smiling at each +other, close together like Annette and himself! They had not seen him; +and stealthily, with a very queer feeling in his heart, Soames watched +those two. They looked happy! What had they come here for--inherently +illicit creatures, rebels from the Victorian ideal? What business had +they in this crowd? Each of them twice exiled by morality--making a +boast, as it were, of love and laxity! He watched them fascinated; +admitting grudgingly even with his arm thrust through Annette's +that--that she--Irene--No! he would not admit it; and he turned his eyes +away. He would not see them, and let the old bitterness, the old longing +rise up within him! And then Annette turned to him and said: "Those two +people, Soames; they know you, I am sure. Who are they?" + +Soames nosed sideways. + +"What people?" + +"There, you see them; just turning away. They know you." + +"No," Soames answered; "a mistake, my dear." + +"A lovely face! And how she walk! Elle est tres distinguee!" + +Soames looked then. Into his life, out of his life she had walked like +that swaying and erect, remote, unseizable; ever eluding the contact of +his soul! He turned abruptly from that receding vision of the past. + +"You'd better attend," he said, "they're coming now!" + +But while he stood, grasping her arm, seemingly intent on the head of the +procession, he was quivering with the sense of always missing something, +with instinctive regret that he had not got them both. + +Slow came the music and the march, till, in silence, the long line wound +in through the Park gate. He heard Annette whisper, "How sad it is and +beautiful!" felt the clutch of her hand as she stood up on tiptoe; and +the crowd's emotion gripped him. There it was--the bier of the Queen, +coffin of the Age slow passing! And as it went by there came a murmuring +groan from all the long line of those who watched, a sound such as Soames +had never heard, so unconscious, primitive, deep and wild, that neither +he nor any knew whether they had joined in uttering it. Strange sound, +indeed! Tribute of an Age to its own death.... Ah! Ah!.... The hold +on life had slipped. That which had seemed eternal was gone! The +Queen--God bless her! + +It moved on with the bier, that travelling groan, as a fire moves on over +grass in a thin line; it kept step, and marched alongside down the dense +crowds mile after mile. It was a human sound, and yet inhuman, pushed +out by animal subconsciousness, by intimate knowledge of universal death +and change. None of us--none of us can hold on for ever! + +It left silence for a little--a very little time, till tongues began, +eager to retrieve interest in the show. Soames lingered just long enough +to gratify Annette, then took her out of the Park to lunch at his +father's in Park Lane.... + +James had spent the morning gazing out of his bedroom window. The last +show he would see, last of so many! So she was gone! Well, she was +getting an old woman. Swithin and he had seen her crowned--slim slip of +a girl, not so old as Imogen! She had got very stout of late. Jolyon +and he had seen her married to that German chap, her husband--he had +turned out all right before he died, and left her with that son of his. +And he remembered the many evenings he and his brothers and their cronies +had wagged their heads over their wine and walnuts and that fellow in his +salad days. And now he had come to the throne. They said he had +steadied down--he didn't know--couldn't tell! He'd make the money fly +still, he shouldn't wonder. What a lot of people out there! It didn't +seem so very long since he and Swithin stood in the crowd outside +Westminster Abbey when she was crowned, and Swithin had taken him to +Cremorne afterwards--racketty chap, Swithin; no, it didn't seem much +longer ago than Jubilee Year, when he had joined with Roger in renting a +balcony in Piccadilly. + +Jolyon, Swithin, Roger all gone, and he would be ninety in August! And +there was Soames married again to a French girl. The French were a queer +lot, but they made good mothers, he had heard. Things changed! They +said this German Emperor was here for the funeral, his telegram to old +Kruger had been in shocking taste. He should not be surprised if that +chap made trouble some day. Change! H'm! Well, they must look after +themselves when he was gone: he didn't know where he'd be! And now Emily +had asked Dartie to lunch, with Winifred and Imogen, to meet Soames' +wife--she was always doing something. And there was Irene living with +that fellow Jolyon, they said. He'd marry her now, he supposed. + +'My brother Jolyon,' he thought, 'what would he have said to it all?' And +somehow the utter impossibility of knowing what his elder brother, once +so looked up to, would have said, so worried James that he got up from +his chair by the window, and began slowly, feebly to pace the room. + +'She was a pretty thing, too,' he thought; 'I was fond of her. Perhaps +Soames didn't suit her--I don't know--I can't tell. We never had any +trouble with our wives.' Women had changed everything had changed! And +now the Queen was dead--well, there it was! A movement in the crowd +brought him to a standstill at the window, his nose touching the pane and +whitening from the chill of it. They had got her as far as Hyde Park +Corner--they were passing now! Why didn't Emily come up here where she +could see, instead of fussing about lunch. He missed her at that +moment--missed her! Through the bare branches of the plane-trees he could +just see the procession, could see the hats coming off the people's +heads--a lot of them would catch colds, he shouldn't wonder! A voice +behind him said: + +"You've got a capital view here, James!" + +"There you are!" muttered James; "why didn't you come before? You might +have missed it!" + +And he was silent, staring with all his might. + +"What's the noise?" he asked suddenly. + +"There's no noise," returned Emily; "what are you thinking of?--they +wouldn't cheer." + +"I can hear it." + +"Nonsense, James!" + +No sound came through those double panes; what James heard was the +groaning in his own heart at sight of his Age passing. + +"Don't you ever tell me where I'm buried," he said suddenly. "I shan't +want to know." And he turned from the window. There she went, the old +Queen; she'd had a lot of anxiety--she'd be glad to be out of it, he +should think! + +Emily took up the hair-brushes. + +"There'll be just time to brush your head," she said, "before they come. +You must look your best, James." + +"Ah!" muttered James; "they say she's pretty." + +The meeting with his new daughter-in-law took place in the dining-room. +James was seated by the fire when she was brought in. He placed, his +hands on the arms of the chair and slowly raised himself. Stooping and +immaculate in his frock-coat, thin as a line in Euclid, he received +Annette's hand in his; and the anxious eyes of his furrowed face, which +had lost its colour now, doubted above her. A little warmth came into +them and into his cheeks, refracted from her bloom. + +"How are you?" he said. "You've been to see the Queen, I suppose? Did +you have a good crossing?" + +In this way he greeted her from whom he hoped for a grandson of his name. + +Gazing at him, so old, thin, white, and spotless, Annette murmured +something in French which James did not understand. + +"Yes, yes," he said, "you want your lunch, I expect. Soames, ring the +bell; we won't wait for that chap Dartie." But just then they arrived. +Dartie had refused to go out of his way to see 'the old girl.' With an +early cocktail beside him, he had taken a 'squint' from the smoking-room +of the Iseeum, so that Winifred and Imogen had been obliged to come back +from the Park to fetch him thence. His brown eyes rested on Annette with +a stare of almost startled satisfaction. The second beauty that fellow +Soames had picked up! What women could see in him! Well, she would play +him the same trick as the other, no doubt; but in the meantime he was a +lucky devil! And he brushed up his moustache, having in nine months of +Green Street domesticity regained almost all his flesh and his assurance. +Despite the comfortable efforts of Emily, Winifred's composure, Imogen's +enquiring friendliness, Dartie's showing-off, and James' solicitude about +her food, it was not, Soames felt, a successful lunch for his bride. He +took her away very soon. + +"That Monsieur Dartie," said Annette in the cab, "je n'aime pas ce +type-la!" + +"No, by George!" said Soames. + +"Your sister is veree amiable, and the girl is pretty. Your father is +veree old. I think your mother has trouble with him; I should not like +to be her." + +Soames nodded at the shrewdness, the clear hard judgment in his young +wife; but it disquieted him a little. The thought may have just flashed +through him, too: 'When I'm eighty she'll be fifty-five, having trouble +with me!' + +"There's just one other house of my relations I must take you to," he +said; "you'll find it funny, but we must get it over; and then we'll dine +and go to the theatre." + +In this way he prepared her for Timothy's. But Timothy's was different. +They were delighted to see dear Soames after this long long time; and so +this was Annette! + +"You are so pretty, my dear; almost too young and pretty for dear Soames, +aren't you? But he's very attentive and careful--such a good hush...." +Aunt Juley checked herself, and placed her lips just under each of +Annette's eyes--she afterwards described them to Francie, who dropped in, +as: "Cornflower-blue, so pretty, I quite wanted to kiss them. I must say +dear Soames is a perfect connoisseur. In her French way, and not so very +French either, I think she's as pretty--though not so distinguished, not +so alluring--as Irene. Because she was alluring, wasn't she? with that +white skin and those dark eyes, and that hair, couleur de--what was it? +I always forget." + +"Feuille morte," Francie prompted. + +"Of course, dead leaves--so strange. I remember when I was a girl, +before we came to London, we had a foxhound puppy--to 'walk' it was +called then; it had a tan top to its head and a white chest, and +beautiful dark brown eyes, and it was a lady." + +"Yes, auntie," said Francie, "but I don't see the connection." + +"Oh!" replied Aunt Juley, rather flustered, "it was so alluring, and her +eyes and hair, you know...." She was silent, as if surprised in some +indelicacy. "Feuille morte," she added suddenly; "Hester--do remember +that!".... + +Considerable debate took place between the two sisters whether Timothy +should or should not be summoned to see Annette. + +"Oh, don't bother!" said Soames. + +"But it's no trouble, only of course Annette's being French might upset +him a little. He was so scared about Fashoda. I think perhaps we had +better not run the risk, Hester. It's nice to have her all to ourselves, +isn't it? And how are you, Soames? Have you quite got over your...." + +Hester interposed hurriedly: + +"What do you think of London, Annette?" + +Soames, disquieted, awaited the reply. It came, sensible, composed: "Oh! +I know London. I have visited before." + +He had never ventured to speak to her on the subject of the restaurant. +The French had different notions about gentility, and to shrink from +connection with it might seem to her ridiculous; he had waited to be +married before mentioning it; and now he wished he hadn't. + +"And what part do you know best?" said Aunt Juley. + +"Soho," said Annette simply. + +Soames snapped his jaw. + +"Soho?" repeated Aunt Juley; "Soho?" + +'That'll go round the family,' thought Soames. + +"It's very French, and interesting," he said. + +"Yes," murmured Aunt Juley, "your Uncle Roger had some houses there once; +he was always having to turn the tenants out, I remember." + +Soames changed the subject to Mapledurham. + +"Of course," said Aunt Juley, "you will be going down there soon to +settle in. We are all so looking forward to the time when Annette has a +dear little...." + +"Juley!" cried Aunt Hester desperately, "ring tea!" + +Soames dared not wait for tea, and took Annette away. + +"I shouldn't mention Soho if I were you," he said in the cab. "It's +rather a shady part of London; and you're altogether above that +restaurant business now; I mean," he added, "I want you to know nice +people, and the English are fearful snobs." + +Annette's clear eyes opened; a little smile came on her lips. + +"Yes?" she said. + +'H'm!' thought Soames, 'that's meant for me!' and he looked at her hard. +'She's got good business instincts,' he thought. 'I must make her grasp +it once for all!' + +"Look here, Annette! it's very simple, only it wants understanding. Our +professional and leisured classes still think themselves a cut above our +business classes, except of course the very rich. It may be stupid, but +there it is, you see. It isn't advisable in England to let people know +that you ran a restaurant or kept a shop or were in any kind of trade. +It may have been extremely creditable, but it puts a sort of label on +you; you don't have such a good time, or meet such nice people--that's +all." + +"I see," said Annette; "it is the same in France." + +"Oh!" murmured Soames, at once relieved and taken aback. "Of course, +class is everything, really." + +"Yes," said Annette; "comme vous etes sage." + +'That's all right,' thought Soames, watching her lips, 'only she's pretty +cynical.' His knowledge of French was not yet such as to make him grieve +that she had not said 'tu.' He slipped his arm round her, and murmured +with an effort: + +"Et vous etes ma belle femme." + +Annette went off into a little fit of laughter. + +"Oh, non!" she said. "Oh, non! ne parlez pas Francais, Soames. What is +that old lady, your aunt, looking forward to?" + +Soames bit his lip. "God knows!" he said; "she's always saying +something;" but he knew better than God. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SUSPENDED ANIMATION + +The war dragged on. Nicholas had been heard to say that it would cost +three hundred millions if it cost a penny before they'd done with it! +The income-tax was seriously threatened. Still, there would be South +Africa for their money, once for all. And though the possessive instinct +felt badly shaken at three o'clock in the morning, it recovered by +breakfast-time with the recollection that one gets nothing in this world +without paying for it. So, on the whole, people went about their +business much as if there were no war, no concentration camps, no +slippery de Wet, no feeling on the Continent, no anything unpleasant. +Indeed, the attitude of the nation was typified by Timothy's map, whose +animation was suspended--for Timothy no longer moved the flags, and they +could not move themselves, not even backwards and forwards as they should +have done. + +Suspended animation went further; it invaded Forsyte 'Change, and +produced a general uncertainty as to what was going to happen next. The +announcement in the marriage column of The Times, 'Jolyon Forsyte to +Irene, only daughter of the late Professor Heron,' had occasioned doubt +whether Irene had been justly described. And yet, on the whole, relief +was felt that she had not been entered as 'Irene, late the wife,' or 'the +divorced wife,' 'of Soames Forsyte.' Altogether, there had been a kind +of sublimity from the first about the way the family had taken that +'affair.' As James had phrased it, 'There it was!' No use to fuss! +Nothing to be had out of admitting that it had been a 'nasty jar'--in the +phraseology of the day. + +But what would happen now that both Soames and Jolyon were married again? +That was very intriguing. George was known to have laid Eustace six to +four on a little Jolyon before a little Soames. George was so droll! It +was rumoured, too, that he and Dartie had a bet as to whether James would +attain the age of ninety, though which of them had backed James no one +knew. + +Early in May, Winifred came round to say that Val had been wounded in the +leg by a spent bullet, and was to be discharged. His wife was nursing +him. He would have a little limp--nothing to speak of. He wanted his +grandfather to buy him a farm out there where he could breed horses. Her +father was giving Holly eight hundred a year, so they could be quite +comfortable, because his grandfather would give Val five, he had said; +but as to the farm, he didn't know--couldn't tell: he didn't want Val to +go throwing away his money. + +"But you know," said Winifred, "he must do something." + +Aunt Hester thought that perhaps his dear grandfather was wise, because +if he didn't buy a farm it couldn't turn out badly. + +"But Val loves horses," said Winifred. "It'd be such an occupation for +him." + +Aunt Juley thought that horses were very uncertain, had not Montague +found them so? + +"Val's different," said Winifred; "he takes after me." + +Aunt Juley was sure that dear Val was very clever. "I always remember," +she added, "how he gave his bad penny to a beggar. His dear grandfather +was so pleased. He thought it showed such presence of mind. I remember +his saying that he ought to go into the Navy." + +Aunt Hester chimed in: Did not Winifred think that it was much better for +the young people to be secure and not run any risk at their age? + +"Well," said Winifred, "if they were in London, perhaps; in London it's +amusing to do nothing. But out there, of course, he'll simply get bored +to death." + +Aunt Hester thought that it would be nice for him to work, if he were +quite sure not to lose by it. It was not as if they had no money. +Timothy, of course, had done so well by retiring. Aunt Juley wanted to +know what Montague had said. + +Winifred did not tell her, for Montague had merely remarked: "Wait till +the old man dies." + +At this moment Francie was announced. Her eyes were brimming with a +smile. + +"Well," she said, "what do you think of it?" + +"Of what, dear?" + +"In The Times this morning." + +"We haven't seen it, we always read it after dinner; Timothy has it till +then." + +Francie rolled her eyes. + +"Do you think you ought to tell us?" said Aunt Juley. "What was it?" + +"Irene's had a son at Robin Hill." + +Aunt Juley drew in her breath. "But," she said, "they were only married +in March!" + +"Yes, Auntie; isn't it interesting?" + +"Well," said Winifred, "I'm glad. I was sorry for Jolyon losing his boy. +It might have been Val." + +Aunt Juley seemed to go into a sort of dream. "I wonder," she murmured, +"what dear Soames will think? He has so wanted to have a son himself. A +little bird has always told me that." + +"Well," said Winifred, "he's going to--bar accidents." + +Gladness trickled out of Aunt Juley's eyes. + +"How delightful!" she said. "When?" + +"November." + +Such a lucky month! But she did wish it could be sooner. It was a long +time for James to wait, at his age! + +To wait! They dreaded it for James, but they were used to it themselves. +Indeed, it was their great distraction. To wait! For The Times to read; +for one or other of their nieces or nephews to come in and cheer them up; +for news of Nicholas' health; for that decision of Christopher's about +going on the stage; for information concerning the mine of Mrs. +MacAnder's nephew; for the doctor to come about Hester's inclination to +wake up early in the morning; for books from the library which were +always out; for Timothy to have a cold; for a nice quiet warm day, not +too hot, when they could take a turn in Kensington Gardens. To wait, one +on each side of the hearth in the drawing-room, for the clock between +them to strike; their thin, veined, knuckled hands plying +knitting-needles and crochet-hooks, their hair ordered to stop--like +Canute's waves--from any further advance in colour. To wait in their +black silks or satins for the Court to say that Hester might wear her +dark green, and Juley her darker maroon. To wait, slowly turning over +and over, in their old minds the little joys and sorrows, events and +expectancies, of their little family world, as cows chew patient cuds in +a familiar field. And this new event was so well worth waiting for. +Soames had always been their pet, with his tendency to give them +pictures, and his almost weekly visits which they missed so much, and his +need for their sympathy evoked by the wreck of his first marriage. This +new event--the birth of an heir to Soames--was so important for him, and +for his dear father, too, that James might not have to die without some +certainty about things. James did so dislike uncertainty; and with +Montague, of course, he could not feel really satisfied to leave no +grand-children but the young Darties. After all, one's own name did +count! And as James' ninetieth birthday neared they wondered what +precautions he was taking. He would be the first of the Forsytes to +reach that age, and set, as it were, a new standard in holding on to +life. That was so important, they felt, at their ages eighty-seven and +eighty-five; though they did not want to think of themselves when they +had Timothy, who was not yet eighty-two, to think of. There was, of +course, a better world. 'In my Father's house are many mansions' was one +of Aunt Juley's favourite sayings--it always comforted her, with its +suggestion of house property, which had made the fortune of dear Roger. +The Bible was, indeed, a great resource, and on very fine Sundays there +was church in the morning; and sometimes Juley would steal into Timothy's +study when she was sure he was out, and just put an open New Testament +casually among the books on his little table--he was a great reader, of +course, having been a publisher. But she had noticed that Timothy was +always cross at dinner afterwards. And Smither had told her more than +once that she had picked books off the floor in doing the room. Still, +with all that, they did feel that heaven could not be quite so cosy as +the rooms in which they and Timothy had been waiting so long. Aunt +Hester, especially, could not bear the thought of the exertion. Any +change, or rather the thought of a change--for there never was +any--always upset her very much. Aunt Juley, who had more spirit, +sometimes thought it would be quite exciting; she had so enjoyed that +visit to Brighton the year dear Susan died. But then Brighton one knew +was nice, and it was so difficult to tell what heaven would be like, so +on the whole she was more than content to wait. + +On the morning of James' birthday, August the 5th, they felt +extraordinary animation, and little notes passed between them by the hand +of Smither while they were having breakfast in their beds. Smither must +go round and take their love and little presents and find out how Mr. +James was, and whether he had passed a good night with all the +excitement. And on the way back would Smither call in at Green +Street--it was a little out of her way, but she could take the bus up +Bond Street afterwards; it would be a nice little change for her--and ask +dear Mrs. Dartie to be sure and look in before she went out of town. + +All this Smither did--an undeniable servant trained many years ago under +Aunt Ann to a perfection not now procurable. Mr. James, so Mrs. James +said, had passed an excellent night, he sent his love; Mrs. James had +said he was very funny and had complained that he didn't know what all +the fuss was about. Oh! and Mrs. Dartie sent her love, and she would +come to tea. + +Aunts Juley and Hester, rather hurt that their presents had not received +special mention--they forgot every year that James could not bear to +receive presents, 'throwing away their money on him,' as he always called +it--were 'delighted'; it showed that James was in good spirits, and that +was so important for him. And they began to wait for Winifred. She came +at four, bringing Imogen, and Maud, just back from school, and 'getting +such a pretty girl, too,' so that it was extremely difficult to ask for +news about Annette. Aunt Juley, however, summoned courage to enquire +whether Winifred had heard anything, and if Soames was anxious. + +"Uncle Soames is always anxious, Auntie," interrupted Imogen; "he can't +be happy now he's got it." + +The words struck familiarly on Aunt Juley's ears. Ah! yes; that funny +drawing of George's, which had not been shown them! But what did Imogen +mean? That her uncle always wanted more than he could have? It was not +at all nice to think like that. + +Imogen's voice rose clear and clipped: + +"Imagine! Annette's only two years older than me; it must be awful for +her, married to Uncle Soames." + +Aunt Juley lifted her hands in horror. + +"My dear," she said, "you don't know what you're talking about. Your +Uncle Soames is a match for anybody. He's a very clever man, and +good-looking and wealthy, and most considerate and careful, and not at +all old, considering everything." + +Imogen, turning her luscious glance from one to the other of the 'old +dears,' only smiled. + +"I hope," said Aunt Juley quite severely, "that you will marry as good a +man." + +"I shan't marry a good man, Auntie," murmured Imogen; "they're dull." + +"If you go on like this," replied Aunt Juley, still very much upset, "you +won't marry anybody. We'd better not pursue the subject;" and turning to +Winifred, she said: "How is Montague?" + +That evening, while they were waiting for dinner, she murmured: + +"I've told Smither to get up half a bottle of the sweet champagne, +Hester. I think we ought to drink dear James' health, and--and the +health of Soames' wife; only, let's keep that quite secret. I'll Just +say like this, 'And you know, Hester!' and then we'll drink. It might +upset Timothy." + +"It's more likely to upset us," said Aunt Nester. "But we must, I +suppose; for such an occasion." + +"Yes," said Aunt Juley rapturously, "it is an occasion! Only fancy if he +has a dear little boy, to carry the family on! I do feel it so +important, now that Irene has had a son. Winifred says George is calling +Jolyon 'The Three-Decker,' because of his three families, you know! +George is droll. And fancy! Irene is living after all in the house +Soames had built for them both. It does seem hard on dear Soames; and +he's always been so regular." + +That night in bed, excited and a little flushed still by her glass of +wine and the secrecy of the second toast, she lay with her prayer-book +opened flat, and her eyes fixed on a ceiling yellowed by the light from +her reading-lamp. Young things! It was so nice for them all! And she +would be so happy if she could see dear Soames happy. But, of course, he +must be now, in spite of what Imogen had said. He would have all that he +wanted: property, and wife, and children! And he would live to a green +old age, like his dear father, and forget all about Irene and that +dreadful case. If only she herself could be here to buy his children +their first rocking-horse! Smither should choose it for her at the +stores, nice and dappled. Ah! how Roger used to rock her until she fell +off! Oh dear! that was a long time ago! It was! 'In my Father's house +are many mansions--'A little scrattling noise caught her ear--'but no +mice!' she thought mechanically. The noise increased. There! it was a +mouse! How naughty of Smither to say there wasn't! It would be eating +through the wainscot before they knew where they were, and they would +have to have the builders in. They were such destructive things! And +she lay, with her eyes just moving, following in her mind that little +scrattling sound, and waiting for sleep to release her from it. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +BIRTH OF A FORSYTE + +Soames walked out of the garden door, crossed the lawn, stood on the path +above the river, turned round and walked back to the garden door, without +having realised that he had moved. The sound of wheels crunching the +drive convinced him that time had passed, and the doctor gone. What, +exactly, had he said? + +"This is the position, Mr. Forsyte. I can make pretty certain of her +life if I operate, but the baby will be born dead. If I don't operate, +the baby will most probably be born alive, but it's a great risk for the +mother--a great risk. In either case I don't think she can ever have +another child. In her state she obviously can't decide for herself, and +we can't wait for her mother. It's for you to make the decision, while +I'm getting what's necessary. I shall be back within the hour." + +The decision! What a decision! No time to get a specialist down! No +time for anything! + +The sound of wheels died away, but Soames still stood intent; then, +suddenly covering his ears, he walked back to the river. To come before +its time like this, with no chance to foresee anything, not even to get +her mother here! It was for her mother to make that decision, and she +couldn't arrive from Paris till to-night! If only he could have +understood the doctor's jargon, the medical niceties, so as to be sure he +was weighing the chances properly; but they were Greek to him--like a +legal problem to a layman. And yet he must decide! He brought his hand +away from his brow wet, though the air was chilly. These sounds which +came from her room! To go back there would only make it more difficult. +He must be calm, clear. On the one hand life, nearly certain, of his +young wife, death quite certain, of his child; and--no more children +afterwards! On the other, death perhaps of his wife, nearly certain life +for the child; and--no more children afterwards! Which to choose?.... It +had rained this last fortnight--the river was very full, and in the +water, collected round the little house-boat moored by his landing-stage, +were many leaves from the woods above, brought off by a frost. Leaves +fell, lives drifted down--Death! To decide about death! And no one to +give him a hand. Life lost was lost for good. Let nothing go that you +could keep; for, if it went, you couldn't get it back. It left you bare, +like those trees when they lost their leaves; barer and barer until you, +too, withered and came down. And, by a queer somersault of thought, he +seemed to see not Annette lying up there behind that window-pane on which +the sun was shining, but Irene lying in their bedroom in Montpellier +Square, as it might conceivably have been her fate to lie, sixteen years +ago. Would he have hesitated then? Not a moment! Operate, operate! +Make certain of her life! No decision--a mere instinctive cry for help, +in spite of his knowledge, even then, that she did not love him! But +this! Ah! there was nothing overmastering in his feeling for Annette! +Many times these last months, especially since she had been growing +frightened, he had wondered. She had a will of her own, was selfish in +her French way. And yet--so pretty! What would she wish--to take the +risk. 'I know she wants the child,' he thought. 'If it's born dead, and +no more chance afterwards--it'll upset her terribly. No more chance! +All for nothing! Married life with her for years and years without a +child. Nothing to steady her! She's too young. Nothing to look forward +to, for her--for me! For me!' He struck his hands against his chest! +Why couldn't he think without bringing himself in--get out of himself and +see what he ought to do? The thought hurt him, then lost edge, as if it +had come in contact with a breastplate. Out of oneself! Impossible! +Out into soundless, scentless, touchless, sightless space! The very idea +was ghastly, futile! And touching there the bedrock of reality, the +bottom of his Forsyte spirit, Soames rested for a moment. When one +ceased, all ceased; it might go on, but there'd be nothing in it! + +He looked at his watch. In half an hour the doctor would be back. He +must decide! If against the operation and she died, how face her mother +and the doctor afterwards? How face his own conscience? It was his child +that she was having. If for the operation--then he condemned them both +to childlessness. And for what else had he married her but to have a +lawful heir? And his father--at death's door, waiting for the news! +'It's cruel!' he thought; 'I ought never to have such a thing to settle! +It's cruel!' He turned towards the house. Some deep, simple way of +deciding! He took out a coin, and put it back. If he spun it, he knew +he would not abide by what came up! He went into the dining-room, +furthest away from that room whence the sounds issued. The doctor had +said there was a chance. In here that chance seemed greater; the river +did not flow, nor the leaves fall. A fire was burning. Soames unlocked +the tantalus. He hardly ever touched spirits, but now--he poured himself +out some whisky and drank it neat, craving a faster flow of blood. 'That +fellow Jolyon,' he thought; 'he had children already. He has the woman I +really loved; and now a son by her! And I--I'm asked to destroy my only +child! Annette can't die; it's not possible. She's strong!' + +He was still standing sullenly at the sideboard when he heard the +doctor's carriage, and went out to him. He had to wait for him to come +downstairs. + +"Well, doctor?" + +"The situation's the same. Have you decided?" + +"Yes," said Soames; "don't operate!" + +"Not? You understand--the risk's great?" + +In Soames' set face nothing moved but the lips. + +"You said there was a chance?" + +"A chance, yes; not much of one." + +"You say the baby must be born dead if you do?" + +"Yes." + +"Do you still think that in any case she can't have another?" + +"One can't be absolutely sure, but it's most unlikely." + +"She's strong," said Soames; "we'll take the risk." + +The doctor looked at him very gravely. "It's on your shoulders," he +said; "with my own wife, I couldn't." + +Soames' chin jerked up as if someone had hit him. + +"Am I of any use up there?" he asked. + +"No; keep away." + +"I shall be in my picture-gallery, then; you know where." + +The doctor nodded, and went upstairs. + +Soames continued to stand, listening. 'By this time to-morrow,' he +thought, 'I may have her death on my hands.' No! it was unfair +--monstrous, to put it that way! Sullenness dropped on him again, and he +went up to the gallery. He stood at the window. The wind was in the +north; it was cold, clear; very blue sky, heavy ragged white clouds +chasing across; the river blue, too, through the screen of goldening +trees; the woods all rich with colour, glowing, burnished-an early +autumn. If it were his own life, would he be taking that risk? 'But +she'd take the risk of losing me,' he thought, 'sooner than lose her +child! She doesn't really love me!' What could one expect--a girl and +French? The one thing really vital to them both, vital to their marriage +and their futures, was a child! 'I've been through a lot for this,' he +thought, 'I'll hold on--hold on. There's a chance of keeping both--a +chance!' One kept till things were taken--one naturally kept! He began +walking round the gallery. He had made one purchase lately which he knew +was a fortune in itself, and he halted before it--a girl with dull gold +hair which looked like filaments of metal gazing at a little golden +monster she was holding in her hand. Even at this tortured moment he +could just feel the extraordinary nature of the bargain he had +made--admire the quality of the table, the floor, the chair, the girl's +figure, the absorbed expression on her face, the dull gold filaments of +her hair, the bright gold of the little monster. Collecting pictures; +growing richer, richer! What use, if....! He turned his back abruptly +on the picture, and went to the window. Some of his doves had flown up +from their perches round the dovecot, and were stretching their wings in +the wind. In the clear sharp sunlight their whiteness almost flashed. +They flew far, making a flung-up hieroglyphic against the sky. Annette +fed the doves; it was pretty to see her. They took it out of her hand; +they knew she was matter-of-fact. A choking sensation came into his +throat. She would not--could nod die! She was too--too sensible; and +she was strong, really strong, like her mother, in spite of her fair +prettiness. + +It was already growing dark when at last he opened the door, and stood +listening. Not a sound! A milky twilight crept about the stairway and +the landings below. He had turned back when a sound caught his ear. +Peering down, he saw a black shape moving, and his heart stood still. +What was it? Death? The shape of Death coming from her door? No! only +a maid without cap or apron. She came to the foot of his flight of +stairs and said breathlessly: + +"The doctor wants to see you, sir." + +He ran down. She stood flat against the wall to let him pass, and said: + +"Oh, Sir! it's over." + +"Over?" said Soames, with a sort of menace; "what d'you mean?" + +"It's born, sir." + +He dashed up the four steps in front of him, and came suddenly on the +doctor in the dim passage. The man was wiping his brow. + +"Well?" he said; "quick!" + +"Both living; it's all right, I think." + +Soames stood quite still, covering his eyes. + +"I congratulate you," he heard the doctor say; "it was touch and go." + +Soames let fall the hand which was covering his face. + +"Thanks," he said; "thanks very much. What is it?" + +"Daughter--luckily; a son would have killed her--the head." + +A daughter! + +"The utmost care of both," he hearts the doctor say, "and we shall do. +When does the mother come?" + +"To-night, between nine and ten, I hope." + +"I'll stay till then. Do you want to see them?" + +"Not now," said Soames; "before you go. I'll have dinner sent up to +you." And he went downstairs. + +Relief unspeakable, and yet--a daughter! It seemed to him unfair. To +have taken that risk--to have been through this agony--and what +agony!--for a daughter! He stood before the blazing fire of wood logs in +the hall, touching it with his toe and trying to readjust himself. 'My +father!' he thought. A bitter disappointment, no disguising it! One +never got all one wanted in this life! And there was no other--at least, +if there was, it was no use! + +While he was standing there, a telegram was brought him. + +"Come up at once, your father sinking fast.--MOTHER." + +He read it with a choking sensation. One would have thought he couldn't +feel anything after these last hours, but he felt this. Half-past seven, +a train from Reading at nine, and madame's train, if she had caught it, +came in at eight-forty--he would meet that, and go on. He ordered the +carriage, ate some dinner mechanically, and went upstairs. The doctor +came out to him. + +"They're sleeping." + +"I won't go in," said Soames with relief. "My father's dying; I have +to--go up. Is it all right?" + +The doctor's face expressed a kind of doubting admiration. 'If they were +all as unemotional' he might have been saying. + +"Yes, I think you may go with an easy mind. You'll be down soon?" + +"To-morrow," said Soames. "Here's the address." + +The doctor seemed to hover on the verge of sympathy. + +"Good-night!" said Soames abruptly, and turned away. He put on his fur +coat. Death! It was a chilly business. He smoked a cigarette in the +carriage--one of his rare cigarettes. The night was windy and flew on +black wings; the carriage lights had to search out the way. His father! +That old, old man! A comfortless night--to die! + +The London train came in just as he reached the station, and Madame +Lamotte, substantial, dark-clothed, very yellow in the lamplight, came +towards the exit with a dressing-bag. + +"This all you have?" asked Soames. + +"But yes; I had not the time. How is my little one?" + +"Doing well--both. A girl!" + +"A girl! What joy! I had a frightful crossing!" + +Her black bulk, solid, unreduced by the frightful crossing, climbed into +the brougham. + +"And you, mon cher?" + +"My father's dying," said Soames between his teeth. "I'm going up. Give +my love to Annette." + +"Tiens!" murmured Madame Lamotte; "quel malheur!" + +Soames took his hat off, and moved towards his train. 'The French!' he +thought. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +JAMES IS TOLD + +A simple cold, caught in the room with double windows, where the air and +the people who saw him were filtered, as it were, the room he had not +left since the middle of September--and James was in deep waters. A +little cold, passing his little strength and flying quickly to his lungs. +"He mustn't catch cold," the doctor had declared, and he had gone and +caught it. When he first felt it in his throat he had said to his +nurse--for he had one now--"There, I knew how it would be, airing the +room like that!" For a whole day he was highly nervous about himself and +went in advance of all precautions and remedies; drawing every breath +with extreme care and having his temperature taken every hour. Emily was +not alarmed. + +But next morning when she went in the nurse whispered: "He won't have his +temperature taken." + +Emily crossed to the side of the bed where he was lying, and said softly, +"How do you feel, James?" holding the thermometer to his lips. James +looked up at her. + +"What's the good of that?" he murmured huskily; "I don't want to know." + +Then she was alarmed. He breathed with difficulty, he looked terribly +frail, white, with faint red discolorations. She had 'had trouble' with +him, Goodness knew; but he was James, had been James for nearly fifty +years; she couldn't remember or imagine life without James--James, behind +all his fussiness, his pessimism, his crusty shell, deeply affectionate, +really kind and generous to them all! + +All that day and the next he hardly uttered a word, but there was in his +eyes a noticing of everything done for him, a look on his face which told +her he was fighting; and she did not lose hope. His very stillness, the +way he conserved every little scrap of energy, showed the tenacity with +which he was fighting. It touched her deeply; and though her face was +composed and comfortable in the sick-room, tears ran down her cheeks when +she was out of it. + +About tea-time on the third day--she had just changed her dress, keeping +her appearance so as not to alarm him, because he noticed everything--she +saw a difference. 'It's no use; I'm tired,' was written plainly across +that white face, and when she went up to him, he muttered: "Send for +Soames." + +"Yes, James," she said comfortably; "all right--at once." And she kissed +his forehead. A tear dropped there, and as she wiped it off she saw that +his eyes looked grateful. Much upset, and without hope now, she sent +Soames the telegram. + +When he entered out of the black windy night, the big house was still as +a grave. Warmson's broad face looked almost narrow; he took the fur coat +with a sort of added care, saying: + +"Will you have a glass of wine, sir?" + +Soames shook his head, and his eyebrows made enquiry. + +Warmson's lips twitched. "He's asking for you, sir;" and suddenly he +blew his nose. "It's a long time, sir," he said, "that I've been with +Mr. Forsyte--a long time." + +Soames left him folding the coat, and began to mount the stairs. This +house, where he had been born and sheltered, had never seemed to him so +warm, and rich, and cosy, as during this last pilgrimage to his father's +room. It was not his taste; but in its own substantial, lincrusta way it +was the acme of comfort and security. And the night was so dark and +windy; the grave so cold and lonely! + +He paused outside the door. No sound came from within. He turned the +handle softly and was in the room before he was perceived. The light was +shaded. His mother and Winifred were sitting on the far side of the bed; +the nurse was moving away from the near side where was an empty chair. +'For me!' thought Soames. As he moved from the door his mother and +sister rose, but he signed with his hand and they sat down again. He +went up to the chair and stood looking at his father. James' breathing +was as if strangled; his eyes were closed. And in Soames, looking on his +father so worn and white and wasted, listening to his strangled +breathing, there rose a passionate vehemence of anger against Nature, +cruel, inexorable Nature, kneeling on the chest of that wisp of a body, +slowly pressing out the breath, pressing out the life of the being who +was dearest to him in the world. His father, of all men, had lived a +careful life, moderate, abstemious, and this was his reward--to have life +slowly, painfully squeezed out of him! And, without knowing that he +spoke, he said: "It's cruel!" + +He saw his mother cover her eyes and Winifred bow her face towards the +bed. Women! They put up with things so much better than men. He took a +step nearer to his father. For three days James had not been shaved, and +his lips and chin were covered with hair, hardly more snowy than his +forehead. It softened his face, gave it a queer look already not of this +world. His eyes opened. Soames went quite close and bent over. The +lips moved. + +"Here I am, Father:" + +"Um--what--what news? They never tell...." the voice died, and a flood +of emotion made Soames' face work so that he could not speak. Tell +him?--yes. But what? He made a great effort, got his lips together, and +said: + +"Good news, dear, good--Annette, a son." + +"Ah!" It was the queerest sound, ugly, relieved, pitiful, +triumphant--like the noise a baby makes getting what it wants. The eyes +closed, and that strangled sound of breathing began again. Soames +recoiled to the chair and stonily sat down. The lie he had told, based, +as it were, on some deep, temperamental instinct that after death James +would not know the truth, had taken away all power of feeling for the +moment. His arm brushed against something. It was his father's naked +foot. In the struggle to breathe he had pushed it out from under the +clothes. Soames took it in his hand, a cold foot, light and thin, white, +very cold. What use to put it back, to wrap up that which must be colder +soon! He warmed it mechanically with his hand, listening to his father's +laboured breathing; while the power of feeling rose again within him. A +little sob, quickly smothered, came from Winifred, but his mother sat +unmoving with her eyes fixed on James. Soames signed to the nurse. + +"Where's the doctor?" he whispered. + +"He's been sent for." + +"Can't you do anything to ease his breathing?" + +"Only an injection; and he can't stand it. The doctor said, while he was +fighting...." + +"He's not fighting," whispered Soames, "he's being slowly smothered. +It's awful." + +James stirred uneasily, as if he knew what they were saying. Soames rose +and bent over him. James feebly moved his two hands, and Soames took +them. + +"He wants to be pulled up," whispered the nurse. + +Soames pulled. He thought he pulled gently, but a look almost of anger +passed over James' face. The nurse plumped the pillows. Soames laid the +hands down, and bending over kissed his father's forehead. As he was +raising himself again, James' eyes bent on him a look which seemed to +come from the very depths of what was left within. 'I'm done, my boy,' +it seemed to say, 'take care of them, take care of yourself; take care--I +leave it all to you.' + +"Yes, Yes," Soames whispered, "yes, yes." + +Behind him the nurse did he knew, not what, for his father made a tiny +movement of repulsion as if resenting that interference; and almost at +once his breathing eased away, became quiet; he lay very still. The +strained expression on his face passed, a curious white tranquillity took +its place. His eyelids quivered, rested; the whole face rested; at ease. +Only by the faint puffing of his lips could they tell that he was +breathing. Soames sank back on his chair, and fell to cherishing the +foot again. He heard the nurse quietly crying over there by the fire; +curious that she, a stranger, should be the only one of them who cried! +He heard the quiet lick and flutter of the fire flames. One more old +Forsyte going to his long rest--wonderful, they were!--wonderful how he +had held on! His mother and Winifred were leaning forward, hanging on +the sight of James' lips. But Soames bent sideways over the feet, +warming them both; they gave him comfort, colder and colder though they +grew. Suddenly he started up; a sound, a dreadful sound such as he had +never heard, was coming from his father's lips, as if an outraged heart +had broken with a long moan. What a strong heart, to have uttered that +farewell! It ceased. Soames looked into the face. No motion; no +breath! Dead! He kissed the brow, turned round and went out of the +room. He ran upstairs to the bedroom, his old bedroom, still kept for +him; flung himself face down on the bed, and broke into sobs which he +stilled with the pillow.... + +A little later he went downstairs and passed into the room. James lay +alone, wonderfully calm, free from shadow and anxiety, with the gravity +on his ravaged face which underlies great age, the worn fine gravity of +old coins. + +Soames looked steadily at that face, at the fire, at all the room with +windows thrown open to the London night. + +"Good-bye!" he whispered, and went out. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HIS + +He had much to see to, that night and all next day. A telegram at +breakfast reassured him about Annette, and he only caught the last train +back to Reading, with Emily's kiss on his forehead and in his ears her +words: + +"I don't know what I should have done without you, my dear boy." + +He reached his house at midnight. The weather had changed, was mild +again, as though, having finished its work and sent a Forsyte to his last +account, it could relax. A second telegram, received at dinner-time, had +confirmed the good news of Annette, and, instead of going in, Soames +passed down through the garden in the moonlight to his houseboat. He +could sleep there quite well. Bitterly tired, he lay down on the sofa in +his fur coat and fell asleep. He woke soon after dawn and went on deck. +He stood against the rail, looking west where the river swept round in a +wide curve under the woods. In Soames, appreciation of natural beauty +was curiously like that of his farmer ancestors, a sense of grievance if +it wasn't there, sharpened, no doubt, and civilised, by his researches +among landscape painting. But dawn has power to fertilise the most +matter-of-fact vision, and he was stirred. It was another world from the +river he knew, under that remote cool light; a world into which man had +not entered, an unreal world, like some strange shore sighted by +discovery. Its colour was not the colour of convention, was hardly +colour at all; its shapes were brooding yet distinct; its silence +stunning; it had no scent. Why it should move him he could not tell, +unless it were that he felt so alone in it, bare of all relationship and +all possessions. Into such a world his father might be voyaging, for all +resemblance it had to the world he had left. And Soames took refuge from +it in wondering what painter could have done it justice. The white-grey +water was like--like the belly of a fish! Was it possible that this +world on which he looked was all private property, except the water--and +even that was tapped! No tree, no shrub, not a blade of grass, not a +bird or beast, not even a fish that was not owned. And once on a time all +this was jungle and marsh and water, and weird creatures roamed and +sported without human cognizance to give them names; rotting luxuriance +had rioted where those tall, carefully planted woods came down to the +water, and marsh-misted reeds on that far side had covered all the +pasture. Well! they had got it under, kennelled it all up, labelled it, +and stowed it in lawyers' offices. And a good thing too! But once in a +way, as now, the ghost of the past came out to haunt and brood and +whisper to any human who chanced to be awake: 'Out of my unowned +loneliness you all came, into it some day you will all return.' + +And Soames, who felt the chill and the eeriness of that world-new to him +and so very old: the world, unowned, visiting the scene of its past--went +down and made himself tea on a spirit-lamp. When he had drunk it, he +took out writing materials and wrote two paragraphs: + +"On the 20th instant at his residence in Park Lane, James Forsyte, in his +ninety-first year. Funeral at noon on the 24th at Highgate. No flowers +by request." + +"On the 20th instant at The Shelter; Mapledurham, Annette, wife of Soames +Forsyte, of a daughter." And underneath on the blottingpaper he traced +the word "son." + +It was eight o'clock in an ordinary autumn world when he went across to +the house. Bushes across the river stood round and bright-coloured out +of a milky haze; the wood-smoke went up blue and straight; and his doves +cooed, preening their feathers in the sunlight. + +He stole up to his dressing-room, bathed, shaved, put on fresh linen and +dark clothes. + +Madame Lamotte was beginning her breakfast when he went down. + +She looked at his clothes, said, "Don't tell me!" and pressed his hand. +"Annette is prettee well. But the doctor say she can never have no more +children. You knew that?" Soames nodded. "It's a pity. Mais la petite +est adorable. Du cafe?" + +Soames got away from her as soon as he could. She offended him--solid, +matter-of-fact, quick, clear--French. He could not bear her vowels, her +'r's'; he resented the way she had looked at him, as if it were his fault +that Annette could never bear him a son! His fault! He even resented +her cheap adoration of the daughter he had not yet seen. + +Curious how he jibbed away from sight of his wife and child! + +One would have thought he must have rushed up at the first moment. On the +contrary, he had a sort of physical shrinking from it--fastidious +possessor that he was. He was afraid of what Annette was thinking of +him, author of her agonies, afraid of the look of the baby, afraid of +showing his disappointment with the present and--the future. + +He spent an hour walking up and down the drawing-room before he could +screw his courage up to mount the stairs and knock on the door of their +room. + +Madame Lamotte opened it. + +"Ah! At last you come! Elle vous attend!" She passed him, and Soames +went in with his noiseless step, his jaw firmly set, his eyes furtive. + +Annette was very pale and very pretty lying there. The baby was hidden +away somewhere; he could not see it. He went up to the bed, and with +sudden emotion bent and kissed her forehead. + +"Here you are then, Soames," she said. "I am not so bad now. But I +suffered terribly, terribly. I am glad I cannot have any more. Oh! how I +suffered!" + +Soames stood silent, stroking her hand; words of endearment, of sympathy, +absolutely would not come; the thought passed through him: 'An English +girl wouldn't have said that!' At this moment he knew with certainty +that he would never be near to her in spirit and in truth, nor she to +him. He had collected her--that was all! And Jolyon's words came rushing +into his mind: "I should imagine you will be glad to have your neck out +of chancery." Well, he had got it out! Had he got it in again? + +"We must feed you up," he said, "you'll soon be strong." + +"Don't you want to see baby, Soames? She is asleep." + +"Of course," said Soames, "very much." + +He passed round the foot of the bed to the other side and stood staring. +For the first moment what he saw was much what he had expected to see--a +baby. But as he stared and the baby breathed and made little sleeping +movements with its tiny features, it seemed to assume an individual +shape, grew to be like a picture, a thing he would know again; not +repulsive, strangely bud-like and touching. It had dark hair. He +touched it with his finger, he wanted to see its eyes. They opened, they +were dark--whether blue or brown he could not tell. The eyes winked, +stared, they had a sort of sleepy depth in them. And suddenly his heart +felt queer, warm, as if elated. + +"Ma petite fleur!" Annette said softly. + +"Fleur," repeated Soames: "Fleur! we'll call her that." + +The sense of triumph and renewed possession swelled within him. + +By God! this--this thing was his! By God! this--this thing was his! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Indian Summer of a Forsyte, and In +Chancery, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE, *** + +***** This file should be named 2594.txt or 2594.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.net/2/5/9/2594/ + +Produced by David Widger. Proofing of a previous edition by Fredrik +Hausmann + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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