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diff --git a/old/isoaf12.txt b/old/isoaf12.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..99546b6 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/isoaf12.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14230 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Indian Summer of a Forsyte and In Chancery +by John Galsworthy +#5 in our series by John Galsworthy + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Indian Summer of a Forsyte and In Chancery + Part 2 of the Forstye Saga + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: April, 2001 [EBook #2594] +[This file was last updated on June 22, 2003] + +Edition: 12 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> +With Proofing assistance from Fredrik Hausmann + + + + +[Spelling conforms to the original: "s's" instead of our "z's"; and +"c's" where we would have "s's"; and "...our" as in colour and +flavour; many interesting double consonants; etc.] + + + + + +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 visit- +ation; 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 mirac- +ulously 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 civil- +isation--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 welll" 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 some- +thing 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, what- +ever 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 crop- +ping 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 col- +lected 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 them- +selves, 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 provinc- +ialism 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 un- +rewarded, 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 inspec- +tion 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 com- +plaining 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 page- +boy, slightly reassured by the thought that George had just lost +his father. He must have come in for about thirty thousand, be- +sides 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 main- +tained 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 pro- +ceeding, 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 +drawingroom 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 motor- +cars 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 paint- +ing, 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 whim- +sical 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 pre- +vented 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 notor- +iety. 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 French- +women 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 pre- +dilections 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 +atmo-sphere 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, cleanshaven 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 recur- +rence, 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 quix- +otic! 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 sen- +sitive 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 grand- +father, 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 un- +consciously 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 +darkshadowed 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 en- +listing 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 house- +tops 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 compet- +itive, 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 grand- +father'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 grand- +father, 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 grand- +father 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 excel- +lent. 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 sen- +suous 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 diningroom 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 out- +landish 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 +rabbitholes 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 busi- +ness. 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 nightbirds 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 know- +ledge, 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 fright- +ened, 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 sub- +stantial, 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. Soaines 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, care- +fully 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! + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Indian Summer of a Forsyte and In +Chancery, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK INDIAN SUMMER OF A FORSYTE *** + +This file should be named isoaf12.txt or isoaf12.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, isoaf13.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, isoaf12a.txt + +Produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> +With Proofing assistance from Fredrik Hausmann + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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