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diff --git a/old/iphar11.txt b/old/iphar11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9dda311 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/iphar11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9462 @@ +Project Gutenberg Etext of The Island Pharisees, by John Galsworthy +#10 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 distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. 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And he is charmed with +everything--with the nice flat road, all broad and white, with his +own feet, and with the prospect he can see on either hand. The sun +shines, and he finds the road a little hot and dusty; the rain falls, +and he splashes through the muddy puddles. It makes no matter--all +is pleasant; his fathers went this way before him; they made this +road for him to tread, and, when they bred him, passed into his fibre +the love of doing things as they themselves had done them. So he +walks on and on, resting comfortably at nights under the roofs that +have been raised to shelter him, by those who went before. + +Suddenly one day, without intending to, he notices a path or opening +in the hedge, leading to right or left, and he stands, looking at the +undiscovered. After that he stops at all the openings in the hedge; +one day, with a beating heart, he tries one. + +And this is where the fun begins. + +Out of ten of him that try the narrow path, nine of him come back to +the broad road, and, when they pass the next gap in the hedge, they +say: "No, no, my friend, I found you pleasant for a while, but after +that-ah! after that! The way my fathers went is good enough for me, +and it is obviously the proper one; for nine of me came back, and +that poor silly tenth--I really pity him!" + +And when he comes to the next inn, and snuggles in his well-warmed, +bed, he thinks of the wild waste of heather where he might have had +to spend the night alone beneath the stars; nor does it, I think, +occur to him that the broad road he treads all day was once a +trackless heath itself. + +But the poor silly tenth is faring on. It is a windy night that he +is travelling through a windy night, with all things new around, and +nothing to help him but his courage. Nine times out of ten that +courage fails, and he goes down into the bog. He has seen the +undiscovered, and--like Ferrand in this book--the undiscovered has +engulfed him; his spirit, tougher than the spirit of the nine that +burned back to sleep in inns, was yet not tough enough. The tenth +time he wins across, and on the traces he has left others follow +slowly, cautiously--a new road is opened to mankind! A true saying +goes: Whatever is, is right! And if all men from the world's +beginning had said that, the world would never have begun--at all. +Not even the protoplasmic jelly could have commenced its journey; +there would have been no motive force to make it start. + +And so, that other saying had to be devised before the world could +set up business: Whatever is, is wrong! But since the Cosmic Spirit +found that matters moved too fast if those that felt "All things that +are, are wrong" equalled in number those that felt "All things that +are, are right," It solemnly devised polygamy (all, be it said, in a +spiritual way of speaking); and to each male spirit crowing "All +things that are, are wrong" It decreed nine female spirits clucking +"All things that are, are right." The Cosmic Spirit, who was very +much an artist, knew its work, and had previously devised a quality +called courage, and divided it in three, naming the parts spiritual, +moral, physical. To all the male-bird spirits, but to no female +(spiritually, not corporeally speaking), It gave courage that was +spiritual; to nearly all, both male and female, It gave courage that +was physical; to very many hen-bird spirits It gave moral courage +too. But, because It knew that if all the male-bird spirits were +complete, the proportion of male to female--one to ten--would be too +great, and cause upheavals, It so arranged that only one in ten male- +bird spirits should have all three kinds of courage; so that the +other nine, having spiritual courage, but lacking either in moral or +in physical, should fail in their extensions of the poultry-run. And +having started them upon these lines, it left them to get along as +best they might. + +Thus, in the subdivision of the poultry-run that we call England, the +proportion of the others to the complete male-bird spirit, who, of +course, is not infrequently a woman, is ninety-nine to one; and with +every Island Pharisee, when he or she starts out in life, the +interesting question ought to be, "Am I that one?" Ninety very soon +find out that they are not, and, having found it out, lest others +should discover, they say they are. Nine of the other ten, blinded +by their spiritual courage, are harder to convince; but one by one +they sink, still proclaiming their virility. The hundredth Pharisee +alone sits out the play. + +Now, the journey of this young man Shelton, who is surely not the +hundredth Pharisee, is but a ragged effort to present the working of +the truth "All things that are, are wrong," upon the truth "All +things that are, are right." + +The Institutions of this country, like the Institutions of all other +countries, are but half-truths; they are the working daily clothing +of the nation; no more the body's permanent dress than is a baby's +frock. Slowly but surely they wear out, or are outgrown; and in +their fashion they are always thirty years at least behind the +fashions of those spirits who are concerned with what shall take +their place. The conditions that dictate our education, the +distribution of our property, our marriage laws, amusements, worship, +prisons, and all other things, change imperceptibly from hour to +hour; the moulds containing them, being inelastic, do not change, but +hold on to the point of bursting, and then are hastily, often +clumsily, enlarged. The ninety desiring peace and comfort for their +spirit, the ninety of the well-warmed beds, will have it that the +fashions need not change, that morality is fixed, that all is ordered +and immutable, that every one will always marry, play, and worship in +the way that they themselves are marrying, playing, worshipping. +They have no speculation, and they hate with a deep hatred those who +speculate with thought. This is the function they were made for. +They are the dough, and they dislike that yeasty stuff of life which +comes and works about in them. The Yeasty Stuff--the other +ten--chafed by all things that are, desirous ever of new forms and +moulds, hate in their turn the comfortable ninety. Each party has +invented for the other the hardest names that it can think of: +Philistines, Bourgeois, Mrs. Grundy, Rebels, Anarchists, and +Ne'er-do-weels. So we go on! And so, as each of us is born to go +his journey, he finds himself in time ranged on one side or on the +other, and joins the choruses of name-slingers. + +But now and then--ah! very seldom--we find ourselves so near that +thing which has no breadth, the middle line, that we can watch them +both, and positively smile to see the fun. + +When this book was published first, many of its critics found that +Shelton was the only Pharisee, and a most unsatisfactory young man-- +and so, no doubt, he is. Belonging to the comfortable ninety, they +felt, in fact, the need of slinging names at one who obviously was of +the ten. Others of its critics, belonging to the ten, wielded their +epithets upon Antonia, and the serried ranks behind her, and called +them Pharisees; as dull as ditch-water--and so, I fear, they are. + +One of the greatest charms of authorship is the privilege it gives +the author of studying the secret springs of many unseen persons, of +analysing human nature through the criticism that his work evokes-- +criticism welling out of the instinctive likings or aversions, out of +the very fibre of the human being who delivers it; criticism that +often seems to leap out against the critic's will, startled like a +fawn from some deep bed, of sympathy or of antipathy. And so, all +authors love to be abused--as any man can see. + +In the little matter of the title of this book, we are all Pharisees, +whether of the ninety or the ten, and we certainly do live upon an +Island. + +JOHN GALSWORTHY. + +January 1, 1908 + + + + + + +PART I + +THE TOWN + + +CHAPTER I + +SOCIETY + +A quiet, well-dressed man named Shelton, with a brown face and a +short, fair beard, stood by the bookstall at Dover Station. He was +about to journey up to London, and had placed his bag in the corner +of a third-class carriage. + +After his long travel, the flat-vowelled voice of the bookstall clerk +offering the latest novel sounded pleasant--pleasant the independent +answers of a bearded guard, and the stodgy farewell sayings of a man +and wife. The limber porters trundling their barrows, the greyness +of the station and the good stolid humour clinging to the people, +air, and voices, all brought to him the sense of home. Meanwhile he +wavered between purchasing a book called Market Hayborough, which he +had read and would certainly enjoy a second time, and Carlyle's +French Revolution, which he had not read and was doubtful of +enjoying; he felt that he ought to buy the latter, but he did not +relish giving up the former. While he hesitated thus, his carriage +was beginning to fill up; so, quickly buying both, he took up a +position from which he could defend his rights. "Nothing," he +thought, "shows people up like travelling." + +The carriage was almost full, and, putting his bag, up in the rack, +he took his seat. At the moment of starting yet another passenger, a +girl with a pale face, scrambled in. + +"I was a fool to go third," thought Shelton, taking in his neighbours +from behind his journal. + +They were seven. A grizzled rustic sat in the far corner; his empty +pipe, bowl downwards, jutted like a handle from his face, all bleared +with the smear of nothingness that grows on those who pass their +lives in the current of hard facts. Next to him, a ruddy, heavy- +shouldered man was discussing with a grey-haired, hatchet-visaged +person the condition of their gardens; and Shelton watched their eyes +till it occurred to him how curious a look was in them--a watchful +friendliness, an allied distrust--and that their voices, cheerful, +even jovial, seemed to be cautious all the time. His glance strayed +off, and almost rebounded from the semi-Roman, slightly cross, and +wholly self-complacent face of a stout lady in a black-and-white +costume, who was reading the Strand Magazine, while her other, sleek, +plump hand, freed from its black glove, and ornamented with a thick +watch-bracelet, rested on her lap. A younger, bright-cheeked, and +self-conscious female was sitting next her, looking at the pale girl +who had just got in. + +"There's something about that girl," thought Shelton, "they don't +like." Her brown eyes certainly looked frightened, her clothes were +of a foreign cut. Suddenly he met the glance of another pair of +eyes; these eyes, prominent and blue, stared with a sort of subtle +roguery from above a thin, lopsided nose, and were at once averted. +They gave Shelton the impression that he was being judged, and +mocked, enticed, initiated. His own gaze did not fall; this sanguine +face, with its two-day growth of reddish beard, long nose, full lips, +and irony, puzzled him. "A cynical face!" he thought, and then, "but +sensitive!" and then, "too cynical," again. + +The young man who owned it sat with his legs parted at the knees, his +dusty trouser-ends and boots slanting back beneath the seat, his +yellow finger-tips crisped as if rolling cigarettes. A strange air +of detachment was about that youthful, shabby figure, and not a scrap +of luggage filled the rack above his head. + +The frightened girl was sitting next this pagan personality; it was +possibly the lack of fashion in his looks that caused, her to select +him for her confidence. + +"Monsieur," she asked, "do you speak French?" + +"Perfectly." + +"Then can you tell me where they take the tickets? + +"The young man shook his head. + +"No," said he, "I am a foreigner." + +The girl sighed. + +"But what is the matter, ma'moiselle?" + +The girl did not reply, twisting her hands on an old bag in her lap. +Silence had stolen on the carriage--a silence such as steals on +animals at the first approach of danger; all eyes were turned towards +the figures of the foreigners. + + +"Yes," broke out the red-faced man, "he was a bit squiffy that +evening--old Tom." + +"Ah!" replied his neighbour, "he would be." + +Something seemed to have destroyed their look of mutual distrust. +The plump, sleek hand of the lady with the Roman nose curved +convulsively; and this movement corresponded to the feeling agitating +Shelton's heart. It was almost as if hand and heart feared to be +asked for something. + +"Monsieur," said the girl, with a tremble in her voice, "I am very +unhappy; can you tell me what to do? I had no money for a ticket." + +The foreign youth's face flickered. + +"Yes?" he said; "that might happen to anyone, of course." + +"What will they do to me?" sighed the girl. + +"Don't lose courage, ma'moiselle." The young man slid his eyes from +left to right, and rested them on Shelton. "Although I don't as yet +see your way out." + +"Oh, monsieur!" sighed the girl, and, though it was clear that none +but Shelton understood what they were saying, there was a chilly +feeling in the carriage. + +"I wish I could assist you," said the foreign youth; "unfortunately-- +--" he shrugged his shoulders, and again his eyes returned to +Shelton. + +The latter thrust his hand into his pocket. + +"Can I be of any use?" he asked in English. + +"Certainly, sir; you could render this young lady the greatest +possible service by lending her the money for a ticket." + +Shelton produced a sovereign, which the young man took. Passing it. +to the girl, he said: + +"A thousand thanks--'voila une belle action'!" + +The misgivings which attend on casual charity crowded up in Shelton's +mind; he was ashamed of having them and of not having them, and he +stole covert looks at this young foreigner, who was now talking to +the girl in a language that he did not understand. Though vagabond +in essence, the fellow's face showed subtle spirit, a fortitude and +irony not found upon the face of normal man, and in turning from it +to the other passengers Shelton was conscious of revolt, contempt, +and questioning, that he could not define. Leaning back with half- +closed eyes, he tried to diagnose this new sensation. He found it +disconcerting that the faces and behaviour of his neighbours lacked +anything he could grasp and secretly abuse. They continued to +converse with admirable and slightly conscious phlegm, yet he knew, +as well as if each one had whispered to him privately, that this +shady incident had shaken them. Something unsettling to their +notions of propriety-something dangerous and destructive of +complacency--had occurred, and this was unforgivable. Each had a +different way, humorous or philosophic, contemptuous, sour, or sly, +of showing this resentment. But by a flash of insight Shelton saw +that at the bottom of their minds and of his own the feeling was the +same. Because he shared in their resentment he was enraged with them +and with himself. He looked at the plump, sleek hand of the woman +with the Roman nose. The insulation and complacency of its pale +skin, the passive righteousness about its curve, the prim separation +from the others of the fat little finger, had acquired a wholly +unaccountable importance. It embodied the verdict of his fellow- +passengers, the verdict of Society; for he knew that, whether or no +repugnant to the well-bred mind, each assemblage of eight persons, +even in a third-class carriage, contains the kernel of Society. + +But being in love, and recently engaged, Shelton had a right to be +immune from discontent of any kind, and he reverted to his mental +image of the cool, fair face, quick movements, and the brilliant +smile that now in his probationary exile haunted his imagination; he +took out his fiancee's last letter, but the voice of the young +foreigner addressing him in rapid French caused him to put it back +abruptly. + +"From what she tells me, sir," he said, bending forward to be out of +hearing of the girl, "hers is an unhappy case. I should have been +only too glad to help her, but, as you see"--and he made a gesture by +which Shelton observed that he had parted from his waistcoat--"I am +not Rothschild. She has been abandoned by the man who brought her +over to Dover under promise of marriage. Look"--and by a subtle +flicker of his eyes he marked how the two ladies had edged away from +the French girl "they take good care not to let their garments touch +her. They are virtuous women. How fine a thing is virtue, sir! and +finer to know you have it, especially when you are never likely to be +tempted." + +Shelton was unable to repress a smile; and when he smiled his face +grew soft. + +"Haven't you observed," went on the youthful foreigner, "that those +who by temperament and circumstance are worst fitted to pronounce +judgment are usually the first to judge? The judgments of Society +are always childish, seeing that it's composed for the most part of +individuals who have never smelt the fire. And look at this: they +who have money run too great a risk of parting with it if they don't +accuse the penniless of being rogues and imbeciles." + +Shelton was startled, and not only by an outburst of philosophy from +an utter stranger in poor clothes, but at this singular wording of +his own private thoughts. Stifling his sense of the unusual for the +queer attraction this young man inspired, he said: + +"I suppose you're a stranger over here?" + +"I've been in England seven months, but not yet in London," replied +the other. "I count on doing some good there--it is time!" A bitter +and pathetic smile showed for a second on his lips. "It won't be my +fault if I fail. You are English, Sir?" + +Shelton nodded. + +"Forgive my asking; your voice lacks something I've nearly always +noticed in the English a kind of--'comment cela s'appelle'-- +cocksureness, coming from your nation's greatest quality." + +"And what is that?" asked Shelton with a smile. + +"Complacency," replied the youthful foreigner. + +"Complacency!" repeated Shelton; "do you call that a great quality?" + +"I should rather say, monsieur, a great defect in what is always a +great people. You are certainly the most highly-civilised nation on +the earth; you suffer a little from the fact. If I were an English +preacher my desire would be to prick the heart of your complacency." + +Shelton, leaning back, considered this impertinent suggestion. + +"Hum!" he said at last, "you'd be unpopular; I don't know that we're +any cockier than other nations." + +The young foreigner made a sign as though confirming this opinion. + +"In effect," said he, "it is a sufficiently widespread disease. Look +at these people here"--and with a rapid glance he pointed to the +inmates of the carnage,--"very average persons! What have they done +to warrant their making a virtuous nose at those who do not walk as +they do? That old rustic, perhaps, is different--he never thinks at +all--but look at those two occupied with their stupidities about the +price of hops, the prospects of potatoes, what George is doing, a +thousand things all of that sort--look at their faces; I come of the +bourgeoisie myself--have they ever shown proof of any quality that +gives them the right to pat themselves upon the back? No fear! +Outside potatoes they know nothing, and what they do not understand +they dread and they despise--there are millions of that breed. +'Voila la Societe'! The sole quality these people have shown they +have is cowardice. I was educated by the Jesuits," he concluded; "it +has given me a way of thinking." + +Under ordinary circumstances Shelton would have murmured in a well- +bred voice, "Ah! quite so," and taken refuge in the columns of the +Daily Telegraph. In place of this, for some reason that he did not +understand, he looked at the young foreigner, and asked, + +"Why do you say all this to me?" + +The tramp--for by his boots he could hardly have been better-- +hesitated. + +"When you've travelled like me," he said, as if resolved to speak the +truth, "you acquire an instinct in choosing to whom and how you +speak. It is necessity that makes the law; if you want to live you +must learn all that sort of thing to make face against life." + +Shelton, who himself possessed a certain subtlety, could not but +observe the complimentary nature of these words. It was like saying +"I'm not afraid of you misunderstanding me, and thinking me a rascal +just because I study human nature." + +"But is there nothing to be done for that poor girl?" + +His new acquaintance shrugged his shoulders. + +"A broken jug," said he; "--you'll never mend her. She's going to a +cousin in London to see if she can get help; you've given her the +means of getting there--it's all that you can do. One knows too well +what'll become of her." + +Shelton said gravely, + +"Oh! that's horrible! Could n't she be induced to go back home? I +should be glad--" + +The foreign vagrant shook his head. + +"Mon cher monsieur," he said, "you evidently have not yet had +occasion to know what the 'family' is like. 'The family' does not +like damaged goods; it will have nothing to say to sons whose hands +have dipped into the till or daughters no longer to be married. What +the devil would they do with her? Better put a stone about her neck +and let her drown at once. All the world is Christian, but Christian +and good Samaritan are not quite the same." + +Shelton looked at the girl, who was sitting motionless, with her +hands crossed on her bag, and a revolt against the unfair ways of +life arose within him. + +"Yes," said the young foreigner, as if reading all his thoughts, +"what's called virtue is nearly always only luck." He rolled his +eyes as though to say: "Ah! La, Conventions? Have them by all means +--but don't look like peacocks because you are preserving them; it is +but cowardice and luck, my friends--but cowardice and luck!" + +"Look here," said Shelton, "I'll give her my address, and if she +wants to go back to her family she can write to me." + +"She'll never go back; she won't have the courage." + +Shelton caught the cringing glance of the girl's eyes; in the droop +of her lip there was something sensuous, and the conviction that the +young man's words were true came over him. + +"I had better not give them my private address," he thought, glancing +at the faces opposite; and he wrote down the following: "Richard +Paramor Shelton, c/o Paramor and Herring, Lincoln's Inn Fields." + +"You're very good, sir. My name is Louis Ferrand; no address at +present. I'll make her understand; she's half stupefied just now." + +Shelton returned to the perusal of his paper, too disturbed to read; +the young vagrant's words kept sounding in his ears. He raised his +eyes. The plump hand of the lady with the Roman nose still rested on +her lap; it had been recased in its black glove with large white +stitching. Her frowning gaze was fixed on him suspiciously, as if he +had outraged her sense of decency. + +"He did n't get anything from me," said the voice of the red-faced +man, ending a talk on tax-gatherers. The train whistled loudly, and +Shelton reverted to his paper. This time he crossed his legs, +determined to enjoy the latest murder; once more he found himself +looking at the vagrant's long-nosed, mocking face. "That fellow," he +thought, "has seen and felt ten times as much as I, although he must +be ten years younger." + +He turned for distraction to the landscape, with its April clouds, +trim hedgerows, homely coverts. But strange ideas would come, and he +was discontented with himself; the conversation he had had, the +personality of this young foreigner, disturbed him. It was all as +though he had made a start in some fresh journey through the fields +of thought. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +ANTONIA + +Five years before the journey just described Shelton had stood one +afternoon on the barge of his old college at the end of the summer +races. He had been "down" from Oxford for some years, but these +Olympian contests still attracted him. + +The boats were passing, and in the usual rush to the barge side his +arm came in contact with a soft young shoulder. He saw close to him +a young girl with fair hair knotted in a ribbon, whose face was eager +with excitement. The pointed chin, long neck, the fluffy hair, quick +gestures, and the calm strenuousness of her grey-blue eyes, impressed +him vividly. + +"Oh, we must bump them!" he heard her sigh. + +"Do you know my people, Shelton?" said a voice behind his back; and +he was granted a touch from the girl's shy, impatient hand, the +warmer fingers of a lady with kindly eyes resembling a hare's, the +dry hand-clasp of a gentleman with a thin, arched nose, and a +quizzical brown face. + +"Are you the Mr. Shelton who used to play the 'bones' at Eton?" said +the lady. "Oh; we so often heard of you from Bernard! He was your +fag, was n't he? How distressin' it is to see these poor boys in the +boats!" + +"Mother, they like it!" cried the girl. + +"Antonia ought to be rowing, herself," said her father, whose name +was Dennant. + +Shelton went back with them to their hotel, walking beside Antonia +through the Christchurch meadows, telling her details of his college +life. He dined with them that evening, and, when he left, had a +feeling like that produced by a first glass of champagne. + +The Dennants lived at Holm Oaks, within six miles of Oxford, and two +days later he drove over and paid a call. Amidst the avocations of +reading for the Bar, of cricket, racing, shooting, it but required a +whiff of some fresh scent--hay, honeysuckle, clover--to bring +Antonia's face before him, with its uncertain colour and its frank, +distant eyes. But two years passed before he again saw her. Then, +at an invitation from Bernard Dennant, he played cricket for the +Manor of Holm Oaks against a neighbouring house; in the evening there +was dancing oh the lawn. The fair hair was now turned up, but the +eyes were quite unchanged. Their steps went together, and they. +outlasted every other couple on the slippery grass. Thence, perhaps, +sprang her respect for him; he was wiry, a little taller than +herself, and seemed to talk of things that interested her. He found +out she was seventeen, and she found out that he was twenty-nine. +The following two years Shelton went to Holm Oaks whenever he was +asked; to him this was a period of enchanted games, of cub-hunting, +theatricals, and distant sounds of practised music, and during it +Antonia's eyes grew more friendly and more curious, and his own more +shy, and schooled, more furtive and more ardent. Then came his +father's death, a voyage round the world, and that peculiar hour of +mixed sensations when, one March morning, abandoning his steamer at +Marseilles, he took train for Hyeres. + +He found her at one of those exclusive hostelries amongst the pines +where the best English go, in common with Americans, Russian +princesses, and Jewish families; he would not have been shocked to +find her elsewhere, but he would have been surprised. His sunburnt +face and the new beard, on which he set some undefined value, +apologetically displayed, were scanned by those blue eyes with rapid +glances, at once more friendly and less friendly. "Ah!" they seemed +to say, "here you are; how glad I am! But--what now?" + +He was admitted to their sacred table at the table d'hote, a snowy +oblong in an airy alcove, where the Honourable Mrs. Dennant, Miss +Dennant, and the Honourable Charlotte Penguin, a maiden aunt with +insufficient lungs, sat twice a day in their own atmosphere. A +momentary weakness came on Shelton the first time he saw them sitting +there at lunch. What was it gave them their look of strange +detachment? Mrs. Dennant was bending above a camera. + +"I'm afraid, d' you know, it's under-exposed," she said. + +"What a pity! The kitten was rather nice!" The maiden aunt, placing +the knitting of a red silk tie beside her plate, turned her aspiring, +well-bred gaze on Shelton. + +"Look, Auntie," said Antonia in her clear, quick voice, "there's the +funny little man again!" + +"Oh," said the maiden aunt--a smile revealed her upper teeth; she +looked for the funny little man (who was not English)--"he's rather +nice!" + +Shelton did not look for the funny little man; he stole a glance that +barely reached Antonia's brow, where her eyebrows took their tiny +upward slant at the outer corners, and her hair was still ruffled by +a windy walk. From that moment he became her slave. + +"Mr. Shelton, do you know anything about these periscopic +binoculars?" said Mrs. Dennant's voice; "they're splendid for +buildin's, but buildin's are so disappointin'. The thing is to get +human interest, isn't it?" and her glance wandered absently past +Shelton in search of human interest. + +"You haven't put down what you've taken, mother." + +>From a little leather bag Mrs. Dennant took a little leather book. + +"It's so easy to forget what they're about," she said, "that's so +annoyin'." + +Shelton was not again visited by his uneasiness at their detachment; +he accepted them and all their works, for there was something quite +sublime about the way that they would leave the dining-room, +unconscious that they themselves were funny to all the people they +had found so funny while they had been sitting there, and he would +follow them out unnecessarily upright and feeling like a fool. + +In the ensuing fortnight, chaperoned by the maiden aunt, for Mrs. +Dennant disliked driving, he sat opposite to Antonia during many +drives; he played sets of tennis with her; but it was in the evenings +after dinner--those long evenings on a parquet floor in wicker chairs +dragged as far as might be from the heating apparatus--that he seemed +so very near her. The community of isolation drew them closer. In +place of a companion he had assumed the part of friend, to whom she +could confide all her home-sick aspirations. So that, even when she +was sitting silent, a slim, long foot stretched out in front, bending +with an air of cool absorption over some pencil sketches which she +would not show him--even then, by her very attitude, by the sweet +freshness that clung about her, by her quick, offended glances at the +strange persons round, she seemed to acknowledge in some secret way +that he was necessary. He was far from realising this; his +intellectual and observant parts were hypnotised and fascinated even +by her failings. The faint freckling across her nose, the slim and +virginal severeness of her figure, with its narrow hips and arms, the +curve of her long neck-all were added charms. She had the wind and +rain look, a taste of home; and over the glaring roads, where the +palm-tree shadows lay so black, she seemed to pass like the very +image of an English day. + +One afternoon he had taken her to play tennis with some friends, and +afterwards they strolled on to her favourite view. Down the Toulon +road gardens and hills were bathed in the colour of ripe apricot; an +evening crispness had stolen on the air; the blood, released from the +sun's numbing, ran gladly in the veins. On the right hand of the +road was a Frenchman playing bowls. Enormous, busy, pleased, and +upright as a soldier, pathetically trotting his vast carcass from end +to end, he delighted Shelton. But Antonia threw a single look at the +huge creature, and her face expressed disgust. She began running up +towards the ruined tower. + +Shelton let her keep in front, watching her leap from stone to stone +and throw back defiant glances when he pressed behind. She stood at +the top, and he looked up at her. Over the world, gloriously spread +below, she, like a statue, seemed to rule. The colour was brilliant +in her cheeks, her young bosom heaved, her eyes shone, and the +flowing droop of her long, full sleeves gave to her poised figure the +look of one who flies. He pulled himself up and stood beside her; +his heart choked him, all the colour had left his cheeks. + +"Antonia," he said, "I love you." + +She started, as if his whisper had intruded on her thoughts; but his +face must have expressed his hunger, for the resentment in her eyes +vanished. + +They stood for several minutes without speaking, and then went home. +Shelton painfully revolved the riddle of the colour in her face. Had +he a chance then? Was it possible? That evening the instinct +vouchsafed at times to lovers in place of reason caused him to pack +his bag and go to Cannes. On returning, two days later, and +approaching the group in the centre of the Winter Garden, the voice +of the maiden aunt reading aloud an extract from the Morning Post +reached him across the room. + +"Don't you think that's rather nice?" he heard her ask, and then: +"Oh, here you aye! It's very nice to see you back!" + +Shelton slipped into a wicker chair. Antonia looked up quickly from +her sketch-book, put out a hand, but did not speak. + +He watched her bending head, and his eagerness was changed to gloom. +With desperate vivacity he sustained the five intolerable minutes of +inquiry, where had he been, what had he been doing? Then once again +the maiden aunt commenced her extracts from the Morning Post. + +A touch on his sleeve startled him. Antonia was leaning forward; her +cheeks were crimson above the pallor of her neck. + +"Would you like to see my sketches?" + +To Shelton, bending above those sketches, that drawl of the well-bred +maiden aunt intoning the well-bred paper was the most pleasant sound +that he had ever listened to. + +"My dear Dick," Mrs. Dennant said to him a fortnight later, "we would +rather, after you leave here, that you don't see each other again +until July. Of course I know you count it an engagement and all +that, and everybody's been writin' to congratulate you. But Algie +thinks you ought to give yourselves a chance. Young people don't +always know what they're about, you know; it's not long to wait." + +"Three months!" gasped Shelton. + +He had to swallow down this pill with what grace he could command. +There was no alternative. Antonia had acquiesced in the condition +with a queer, grave pleasure, as if she expected it to do her good. + +"It'll be something to look forward to, Dick," she said. + +He postponed departure as long as possible, and it was not until the +end of April that he left for England. She came alone to see him +off. It was drizzling, but her tall, slight figure in the golf cape +looked impervious to cold and rain amongst the shivering natives. +Desperately he clutched her hand, warm through the wet glove; her +smile seemed heartless in its brilliancy. He whispered "You will +write?" + +"Of course; don't be so stupid, you old Dick!" + +She ran forward as the train began to move; her clear "Good-bye!" +sounded shrill and hard above the rumble of the wheels. He saw her +raise her hand, an umbrella waving, and last of all, vivid still +amongst receding shapes, the red spot of her scarlet tam-o'-shanter. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +A ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN + +After his journey up from Dover, Shelton was still fathering his +luggage at Charing Cross, when the foreign girl passed him, and, in +spite of his desire to say something cheering, he could get nothing +out but a shame-faced smile. Her figure vanished, wavering into the +hurly-burly; one of his bags had gone astray, and so all thought of +her soon faded from his mind. His cab, however, overtook the foreign +vagrant marching along towards Pall Mall with a curious, lengthy +stride--an observant, disillusioned figure. + +The first bustle of installation over, time hung heavy on his hands. +July loomed distant, as in some future century; Antonia's eyes +beckoned him faintly, hopelessly. She would not even be coming back +to England for another month. + +. . . I met a young foreigner in the train from Dover [he wrote to +her]--a curious sort of person altogether, who seems to have infected +me. Everything here has gone flat and unprofitable; the only good +things in life are your letters . . . . John Noble dined with me +yesterday; the poor fellow tried to persuade me to stand for +Parliament. Why should I think myself fit to legislate for the +unhappy wretches one sees about in the streets? If people's faces +are a fair test of their happiness, I' d rather not feel in any way +responsible . . . . + +The streets, in fact, after his long absence in the East, afforded +him much food for thought: the curious smugness of the passers-by; +the utterly unending bustle; the fearful medley of miserable, over- +driven women, and full-fed men, with leering, bull-beef eyes, whom he +saw everywhere--in club windows, on their beats, on box seats, on the +steps of hotels, discharging dilatory duties; the appalling choas of +hard-eyed, capable dames with defiant clothes, and white-cheeked +hunted-looking men; of splendid creatures in their cabs, and cadging +creatures in their broken hats--the callousness and the monotony! + +One afternoon in May he received this letter couched in French: + + 3, BLANK ROW + WESTMINSTER. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +Excuse me for recalling to your memory the offer of assistance you so +kindly made me during the journey from Dover to London, in which I +was so fortunate as to travel with a man like you. Having beaten the +whole town, ignorant of what wood to make arrows, nearly at the end +of my resources, my spirit profoundly discouraged, I venture to avail +myself of your permission, knowing your good heart. Since I saw you +I have run through all the misfortunes of the calendar, and cannot +tell what door is left at which I have not knocked. I presented +myself at the business firm with whose name you supplied me, but +being unfortunately in rags, they refused to give me your address. +Is this not very much in the English character? They told me to +write, and said they would forward the letter. I put all my hopes in +you. + Believe me, my dear sir, + (whatever you may decide) + Your devoted + LOUIS FERRAND. + +Shelton looked at the envelope, and saw, that it, bore date a week +ago. The face of the young vagrant rose before him, vital, mocking, +sensitive; the sound of his quick French buzzed in his ears, and, +oddly, the whole whiff of him had a power of raising more vividly +than ever his memories of Antonia. It had been at the end of the +journey from Hyeres to London that he had met him; that seemed to +give the youth a claim. + +He took his hat and hurried, to Blank Row. Dismissing his cab at the +corner of Victoria Street he with difficulty found the house in +question. It was a doorless place, with stone-flagged corridor--in +other words, a "doss-house." By tapping on a sort of ticket-office +with a sliding window, he attracted the attention of a blowsy woman +with soap-suds on her arms, who informed him that the person he was +looking for had gone without leaving his address. + +"But isn't there anybody," asked Shelton, "of whom I can make +inquiry?" + +"Yes; there's a Frenchman." And opening an inner door she bellowed: +"Frenchy! Wanted!" and disappeared. + +A dried-up, yellow little man, cynical and weary in the face, as if a +moral steam-roller had passed over it, answered this call, and stood, +sniffing, as it were, at Shelton, on whom he made the singular +impression of some little creature in a cage. + +"He left here ten days ago, in the company of a mulatto. What do you +want with him, if I may ask?" The little man's yellow cheeks were +wrinkled with suspicion. + +Shelton produced the letter. + +"Ah! now I know you"--a pale smile broke through the Frenchman's +crow's-feet--"he spoke of you. 'If I can only find him,' he used to +say, 'I 'm saved.' I liked that young man; he had ideas." + +"Is there no way of getting at him through his consul?" + +The Frenchman shook his head. + +"Might as well look for diamonds at the bottom of the sea." + +"Do you think he will come back here? But by that time I suppose, +you'll hardly be here yourself?" + +A gleam of amusement played about the Frenchman's teeth: + +"I? Oh, yes, sir! Once upon a time I cherished the hope of emerging; +I no longer have illusions. I shave these specimens for a living, +and shall shave them till the day of judgment. But leave a letter +with me by all means; he will come back. There's an overcoat of his +here on which he borrowed money--it's worth more. Oh, yes; he will +come back--a youth of principle. Leave a letter with me; I'm always +here." + +Shelton hesitated, but those last three words, "I'm always here," +touched him in their simplicity. Nothing more dreadful could be +said. + +"Can you find me a sheet of paper, then?" he asked; "please keep the +change for the trouble I am giving you." + +"Thank you," said the Frenchman simply; "he told me that your heart +was good. If you don't mind the kitchen, you could write there at +your ease." + +Shelton wrote his letter at the table of this stone-flagged kitchen +in company with an aged, dried-up gentleman; who was muttering to +himself; and Shelton tried to avoid attracting his attention, +suspecting that he was not sober. Just as he was about to take his +leave, however, the old fellow thus accosted him: + +"Did you ever go to the dentist, mister?" he said, working at a loose +tooth with his shrivelled fingers. "I went to a dentist once, who +professed to stop teeth without giving pain, and the beggar did stop +my teeth without pain; but did they stay in, those stoppings? No, my +bhoy; they came out before you could say Jack Robinson. Now, I +shimply ask you, d'you call that dentistry?" Fixing his eyes on +Shelton's collar, which had the misfortune to be high and clean, he +resumed with drunken scorn: "Ut's the same all over this pharisaical +counthry. Talk of high morality and Anglo-Shaxon civilisation! The +world was never at such low ebb! Phwhat's all this morality? Ut +stinks of the shop. Look at the condition of Art in this counthry! +look at the fools you see upon th' stage! look at the pictures and +books that sell! I know what I'm talking about, though I am a +sandwich man. Phwhat's the secret of ut all? Shop, my bhoy! Ut +don't pay to go below a certain depth! Scratch the skin, but pierce +ut--Oh! dear, no! We hate to see the blood fly, eh?" + +Shelton stood disconcerted, not knowing if he were expected to reply; +but the old gentleman, pursing up his lips, went on: + +"Sir, there are no extremes in this fog-smitten land. Do ye think +blanks loike me ought to exist? Whoy don't they kill us off? +Palliatives--palliatives--and whoy? Because they object to th' +extreme course. Look at women: the streets here are a scandal to the +world. They won't recognise that they exist--their noses are so dam +high! They blink the truth in this middle-class counthry. My bhoy"-- +and he whispered confidentially--"ut pays 'em. Eh? you say, why +shouldn't they, then?" (But Shelton had not spoken.) "Well, let'em! +let 'em!. But don't tell me that'sh morality, don't tell me that'sh +civilisation! What can you expect in a counthry where the crimson, +emotions are never allowed to smell the air? And what'sh the result? +My bhoy, the result is sentiment, a yellow thing with blue spots, +like a fungus or a Stilton cheese. Go to the theatre, and see one of +these things they call plays. Tell me, are they food for men and +women? Why, they're pap for babes and shop-boys! I was a blanky +actor moyself!" + +Shelton listened with mingled feelings of amusement and dismay, till +the old actor, having finished, resumed his crouching posture at the +table. + +"You don't get dhrunk, I suppose?" he said suddenly--"too much of 'n +Englishman, no doubt." + +"Very seldom," said Shelton. + +"Pity! Think of the pleasures of oblivion! Oi 'm dhrunk every +night." + +"How long will you last at that rate?" + +"There speaks the Englishman! Why should Oi give up me only pleasure +to keep me wretched life in? If you've anything left worth the +keeping shober for, keep shober by all means; if not, the sooner you +are dhrunk the better--that stands to reason." + +In the corridor Shelton asked the Frenchman where the old man came +from. + +"Oh, and Englishman! Yes, yes, from Belfast very drunken old man. +You are a drunken nation"--he made a motion with his hands "he no +longer eats--no inside left. It is unfortunate-a man of spirit. If +you have never seen one of these palaces, monsieur, I shall be happy +to show you over it." + +Shelton took out his cigarette case. + +"Yes, yes," said the Frenchman, making a wry nose and taking a +cigarette; "I'm accustomed to it. But you're wise to fumigate the +air; one is n't in a harem." + +And Shelton felt ashamed of his fastidiousness. + +"This," said the guide, leading him up-stairs and opening a door, "is +a specimen of the apartments reserved for these princes of the +blood." There were four empty beds on iron legs, and, with the air +of a showman, the Frenchman twitched away a dingy quilt. "They go +out in the mornings, earn enough to make them drunk, sleep it off, +and then begin again. That's their life. There are people who think +they ought to be reformed. 'Mon cher monsieur', one must face +reality a little, even in this country. It would be a hundred times +better for these people to spend their time reforming high Society. +Your high Society makes all these creatures; there's no harvest +without cutting stalks. 'Selon moi'," he continued, putting back the +quilt, and dribbling cigarette smoke through his nose, "there's no +grand difference between your high Society and these individuals +here; both want pleasure, both think only of themselves, which is +very natural. One lot have had the luck, the other--well, you see." +He shrugged. "A common set! I've been robbed here half a dozen +times. If you have new shoes, a good waistcoat, an overcoat, you +want eyes in the back of your head. And they are populated! Change +your bed, and you'll run all the dangers of not sleeping alone. +'V'la ma clientele'! The half of them don't pay me!" He, snapped +his yellow sticks of fingers. "A penny for a shave, twopence a cut! +'Quelle vie'! Here," he continued, standing by a bed, "is a +gentleman who owes me fivepence. Here's one who was a soldier; he's +done for! All brutalised; not one with any courage left! But, +believe me, monsieur," he went on, opening another door, "when you +come down to houses of this sort you must have a vice; it's as +necessary as breath is to the lungs. No matter what, you must have a +vice to give you a little solace--'un peu de soulagement'. Ah, yes! +before you judge these swine, reflect on life! I've been through it. +Monsieur, it is not nice never to know where to get your next meal. +Gentlemen who have food in their stomachs, money in their pockets, +and know where to get more, they never think. Why should they--'pas +de danger'! All these cages are the same. Come down, and you shall +see the pantry." He took Shelton through the kitchen, which seemed +the only sitting-room of the establishment, to an inner room +furnished with dirty cups and saucers, plates, and knives. Another +fire was burning there. "We always have hot water," said the +Frenchman, "and three times a week they make a fire down there"--he +pointed to a cellar--"for our clients to boil their vermin. Oh, yes, +we have all the luxuries." + +Shelton returned to the kitchen, and directly after took leave of the +little Frenchman, who said, with a kind of moral button-holing, as if +trying to adopt him as a patron: + +"Trust me, monsieur; if he comes back--that young man--he shall have +your letter without fail. My name is Carolan Jules Carolan; and I +am always at your service." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE PLAY + +Shelton walked away; he had been indulging in a nightmare. "That old +actor was drunk," thought he, "and no doubt he was an Irishman; +still, there may be truth in what he said. I am a Pharisee, like all +the rest who are n't in the pit. My respectability is only luck. +What should I have become if I'd been born into his kind of life?" +and he stared at a stream of people coming from the Stares, trying to +pierce the mask of their serious, complacent faces. If these ladies +and gentlemen were put into that pit into which he had been looking, +would a single one of them emerge again? But the effort of picturing +them there was too much for him; it was too far--too ridiculously +far. + +One particular couple, a large; fine man and wife, who, in the midst +of all the dirt and rumbling hurry, the gloomy, ludicrous, and +desperately jovial streets, walked side by side in well-bred silence, +had evidently bought some article which pleased them. There was +nothing offensive in their manner; they seemed quite unconcerned at +the passing of the other people. The man had that fine solidity of +shoulder and of waist, the glossy self-possession that belongs to +those with horses, guns, and dressing-bags. The wife, her chin +comfortably settled in her fur, kept her grey eyes on the ground, +and, when she spoke, her even and unruffled voice reached Shelton's +ears above all the whirring of the traffic. It was leisurely +precise, as if it had never hurried, had never been exhausted, or +passionate, or afraid. Their talk, like that of many dozens of fine +couples invading London from their country places, was of where to +dine, what theatre they should go to, whom they had seen, what they +should buy. And Shelton knew that from day's end to end, and even in +their bed, these would be the subjects of their conversation. They +were the best-bred people of the sort he met in country houses and +accepted as of course, with a vague discomfort at the bottom of his +soul. Antonia's home, for instance, had been full of them. They +were the best-bred people of the sort who supported charities, knew +everybody, had clear, calm judgment, and intolerance of all such +conduct as seemed to them "impossible," all breaches of morality, +such as mistakes of etiquette, such as dishonesty, passion, sympathy +(except with a canonised class of objects--the legitimate sufferings, +for instance, of their own families and class). How healthy they +were! The memory of the doss-house worked in Shelton's mind like +poison. He was conscious that in his own groomed figure, in the +undemonstrative assurance of his walk, he bore resemblance to the +couple he apostrophised. "Ah!" he thought, "how vulgar our +refinement is!" But he hardly believed in his own outburst. These +people were so well mannered, so well conducted, and so healthy, he +could not really understand what irritated him. What was the matter +with them? They fulfilled their duties, had good appetites, clear +consciences, all the furniture of perfect citizens; they merely +lacked-feelers, a loss that, he had read, was suffered by plants and +animals which no longer had a need for using them. Some rare +national faculty of seeing only the obvious and materially useful had +destroyed their power of catching gleams or scents to right or left. + +The lady looked up at her husband. The light of quiet, proprietary +affection shone in her calm grey eyes, decorously illumining her +features slightly reddened by the wind. And the husband looked back +at her, calm, practical, protecting. They were very much alike. So +doubtless he looked when he presented himself in snowy shirt-sleeves +for her to straighten the bow of his white tie; so nightly she would +look, standing before the full-length mirror, fixing his gifts upon +her bosom. Calm, proprietary, kind! He passed them and walked +behind a second less distinguished couple, who manifested a mutual +dislike as matter-of-fact and free from nonsense as the unruffled +satisfaction of the first; this dislike was just as healthy, and +produced in Shelton about the same sensation. It was like knocking +at a never-opened door, looking at a circle--couple after couple all +the same. No heads, toes, angles of their souls stuck out anywhere. +In the sea of their environments they were drowned; no leg braved the +air, no arm emerged wet and naked waving at the skies; shop-persons, +aristocrats, workmen, officials, they were all respectable. And he +himself as respectable as any. + +He returned, thus moody, to his rooms and, with the impetuosity which +distinguished him when about to do an unwise thing, he seized a pen +and poured out before Antonia some of his impressions: + +. . . . Mean is the word, darling; we are mean, that's what 's the +matter with us, dukes and dustmen, the whole human species--as mean +as caterpillars. To secure our own property and our own comfort, to +dole out our sympathy according to rule just so that it won't really +hurt us, is what we're all after. There's something about human +nature that is awfully repulsive, and the healthier people are, the +more repulsive they seem to me to be . . . . + +He paused, biting his pen. Had he one acquaintance who would not +counsel him to see a doctor for writing in that style? How would the +world go round, how could Society exist, without common-sense, +practical ability, and the lack of sympathy? + +He looked out of the open window. Down in the street a footman was +settling the rug over the knees of a lady in a carriage, and the +decorous immovability of both their faces, which were clearly visible +to him, was like a portion of some well-oiled engine. + +He got up and walked up and down. His rooms, in a narrow square +skirting Belgravia, were unchanged since the death of his father had +made him a man of means. Selected for their centrality, they were +furnished in a very miscellaneous way. They were not bare, but close +inspection revealed that everything was damaged, more or less, and +there was absolutely nothing that seemed to have an interest taken in +it. His goods were accidents, presents, or the haphazard +acquisitions of a pressing need. Nothing, of course, was frowsy, but +everything was somewhat dusty, as if belonging to a man who never +rebuked a servant. Above all, there was nothing that indicated +hobbies. + +Three days later he had her answer to his letter: + +. . . I don't think I understand what you mean by "the healthier +people are, the more repulsive they seem to be"; one must be healthy +to be perfect, must n't one? I don't like unhealthy people. I had +to play on that wretched piano after reading your letter; it made me +feel unhappy. I've been having a splendid lot of tennis lately, got +the back-handed lifting stroke at last--hurrah! . . . + +By the same post, too, came the following note in an autocratic +writing: + +DEAR BIRD [for this was Shelton's college nickname], +My wife has gone down to her people, so I'm 'en garcon' for a few +days. If you've nothing better to do, come and dine to-night at +seven, and go to the theatre. It's ages since I saw you. + Yours as ever, + B. M. HALIDOME. + +Shelton had nothing better to do, for pleasant were his friend +Halidome's well-appointed dinners. At seven, therefore, he went to +Chester Square. His friend was in his study, reading Matthew Arnold +by the light of an electric lamp. The walls of the room were hung +with costly etchings, arranged with solid and unfailing taste; from +the carving of the mantel-piece to the binding of the books, from the +miraculously-coloured meerschaums to the chased fire-irons, +everything displayed an unpretentious luxury, an order and a finish +significant of life completely under rule of thumb. Everything had +been collected. The collector rose as Shelton entered, a fine figure +of a man, clean shaven,--with dark hair, a Roman nose, good eyes, and +the rather weighty dignity of attitude which comes from the assurance +that one is in the right. + +Taking Shelton by the lapel, he drew him into the radius of the lamp, +where he examined him, smiling a slow smile. "Glad to see you, old +chap. I rather like your beard," he said with genial brusqueness; +and nothing, perhaps, could better have summed up his faculty for +forming independent judgments which Shelton found so admirable. He +made no apology for the smallness of the dinner, which, consisting of +eight courses and three wines, served by a butler and one footman, +smacked of the same perfection as the furniture; in fact, he never +apologised for anything, except with a jovial brusqueness that was +worse than the offence. The suave and reasonable weight of his +dislikes and his approvals stirred Shelton up to feel ironical and +insignificant; but whether from a sense of the solid, humane, and +healthy quality of his friend's egoism, or merely from the fact that +this friendship had been long in bottle, he did not resent his mixed +sensations. + +"By the way, I congratulate you, old chap," said Halidome, while +driving to the theatre; there was no vulgar hurry about his +congratulations, no more than about himself. "They're awfully nice +people, the Dennants." + +A sense of having had a seal put on his choice came over Shelton. + +"Where are you going to live? You ought to come down and live near +us; there are some ripping houses to be had down there; it's really a +ripping neighbourhood. Have you chucked the Bar? You ought to do +something, you know; it'll be fatal for you to have nothing to do. I +tell you what, Bird: you ought to stand for the County Council." + +But before Shelton had replied they reached the theatre, and their +energies were spent in sidling to their stalls. He had time to pass +his neighbours in review before the play began. Seated next to him +was a lady with large healthy shoulders, displayed with splendid +liberality; beyond her a husband, red-cheeked, with drooping, yellow- +grey moustache and a bald head; beyond him again two men whom he had +known at Eton. One of them had a clean-shaved face, dark hair, and a +weather-tanned complexion; his small mouth with its upper lip pushed +out above the lower, his eyelids a little drooped over his watchful +eyes, gave him a satirical and resolute expression. "I've got hold +of your tail, old fellow," he seemed to say, as though he were always +busy with the catching of some kind of fox. The other's goggling +eyes rested on Shelton with a chaffing smile; his thick, sleek hair, +brushed with water and parted in the middle, his neat moustache and +admirable waistcoat, suggested the sort of dandyism that despises +women. From his recognition of these old schoolfellows Shelton +turned to look at Halidome, who, having cleared his throat, was +staring straight before him at the curtain. Antonia's words kept +running in her lover's head, "I don't like unhealthy people." Well, +all these people, anyway, were healthy; they looked as if they had +defied the elements to endow them with a spark of anything but +health. Just then the curtain rose. + +Slowly, unwillingly, for he was of a trustful disposition, Shelton +recognised that this play was one of those masterpieces of the modern +drama whose characters were drawn on the principle that men were made +for morals rather than morals made by men, and he watched the play +unfold with all its careful sandwiching of grave and gay. + +A married woman anxious to be ridded of her husband was the pivot of +the story, and a number of scenes, ingeniously contrived, with a +hundred reasons why this desire was wrong and inexpedient, were +revealed to Shelton's eyes. These reasons issued mainly from the +mouth of a well-preserved old gentleman who seemed to play the part +of a sort of Moral Salesman. He turned to Halidome and whispered: + +"Can you stand that old woman?" + +His friend fixed his fine eyes on him wonderingly. + +"What old woman?" + +"Why, the old ass with the platitudes!" + +Halidome's countenance grew cold, a little shocked, as though he had +been assailed in person. + +"Do you mean Pirbright?" he said. "I think he's ripping." + +Shelton turned to the play rebuffed; he felt guilty of a breach of +manners, sitting as he was in one of his friend's stalls, and he +naturally set to work to watch the play more critically than ever. +Antonia's words again recurred to him, "I don't like unhealthy +people," and they seemed to throw a sudden light upon this play. It +was healthy! + +The scene was a drawing-room, softly lighted by electric lamps, with +a cat (Shelton could not decide whether she was real or not) asleep +upon the mat. + +The husband, a thick-set, healthy man in evening dress, was drinking +off neat whisky. He put down his tumbler, and deliberately struck a +match; then with even greater deliberation he lit a gold-tipped +cigarette.... + +Shelton was no inexperienced play-goer. He shifted his elbows, for +he felt that something was about to happen; and when the match was +pitched into the fire, he leaned forward in his seat. The husband +poured more whisky out, drank it at a draught, and walked towards the +door; then, turning to the audience as if to admit them to the secret +of some tremendous resolution, he puffed at them a puff of smoke. He +left the room, returned, and once more filled his glass. A lady now +entered, pale of face and dark of eye--his wife. The husband crossed +the stage, and stood before the fire, his legs astride, in the +attitude which somehow Shelton had felt sure he would assume. He +spoke: + +"Come in, and shut the door." + +Shelton suddenly perceived that he was face to face with one of those +dumb moments in which two people declare their inextinguishable +hatred--the hatred underlying the sexual intimacy of two ill- +assorted creatures--and he was suddenly reminded of a scene he had +once witnessed in a restaurant. He remembered with extreme +minuteness how the woman and the man had sat facing each other across +the narrow patch of white, emblazoned by a candle with cheap shades +and a thin green vase with yellow flowers. He remembered the curious +scornful anger of their voices, subdued so that only a few words +reached him. He remembered the cold loathing in their eyes. And, +above all, he remembered his impression that this sort of scene +happened between them every other day, and would continue so to +happen; and as he put on his overcoat and paid his bill he had asked +himself, "Why in the name of decency do they go on living together?" +And now he thought, as he listened to the two players wrangling on +the stage: "What 's the good of all this talk? There's something +here past words." + +The curtain came down upon the act, and he looked at the lady next +him. She was shrugging her shoulders at her husband, whose face was +healthy and offended. + +"I do dislike these unhealthy women," he was saying, but catching +Shelton's eye he turned square in his seat and sniffed ironically. + +The face of Shelton's friend beyond, composed, satirical as ever, was +clothed with a mask of scornful curiosity, as if he had been +listening to something that had displeased him not a little. The +goggle-eyed man was yawning. Shelton turned to Halidome: + +"Can you stand this sort of thing?" said he. + +"No; I call that scene a bit too hot," replied his friend. + +Shelton wriggled; he had meant to say it was not hot enough. + +"I'll bet you anything," he said, "I know what's going to happen now. +You'll have that old ass--what's his name?--lunching off cutlets and +champagne to fortify himself--for a lecture to the wife. He'll show +her how unhealthy her feelings are--I know him--and he'll take her +hand and say, 'Dear lady, is there anything in this poor world but +the good opinion of Society?' and he'll pretend to laugh at himself +for saying it; but you'll see perfectly well that the old woman means +it. And then he'll put her into a set of circumstances that are n't +her own but his version of them, and show her the only way of +salvation is to kiss her husband"; and Shelton grinned. "Anyway, +I'll bet you anything he takes her hand and says, 'Dear lady.'" + +Halidome turned on him the disapproval of his eyes, and again he +said, + +"I think Pirbright 's ripping!" + +But as Shelton had predicted, so it turned out, amidst great +applause. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE GOOD CITIZEN + +Leaving the theatre, they paused a moment in the hall to don their +coats; a stream of people with spotless bosoms eddied round the +doors, as if in momentary dread of leaving this hothouse of false +morals and emotions for the wet, gusty streets, where human plants +thrive and die, human weeds flourish and fade under the fresh, +impartial skies. The lights revealed innumerable solemn faces, +gleamed innumerably on jewels, on the silk of hats, then passed to +whiten a pavement wet with newly-fallen rain, to flare on horses, on +the visages of cabmen, and stray, queer objects that do not bear the +light. + +"Shall we walk?" asked Halidome. + +"Has it ever struck you," answered Shelton, "that in a play nowadays +there's always a 'Chorus of Scandalmongers' which seems to have +acquired the attitude of God?" + +Halidome cleared his throat, and there was something portentous in +the sound. + +"You're so d---d fastidious," was his answer. + +"I've a prejudice for keeping the two things separate," went on +Shelton. "That ending makes me sick." + +"Why?" replied Halidome. "What other end is possible? You don't +want a play to leave you with a bad taste in your mouth." + +"But this does." + +Halidome increased his stride, already much too long; for in his +walk, as in all other phases of his life, he found it necessary to be +in front. + +"How do you mean?" he asked urbanely; "it's better than the woman +making a fool of herself." + +"I'm thinking of the man." + +"What man?" + +"The husband." + +"What 's the matter with him? He was a bit of a bounder, certainly." + +"I can't understand any man wanting to live with a woman who doesn't +want him." + +Some note of battle in Shelton's voice, rather than the sentiment +itself, caused his friend to reply with dignity: + +"There's a lot of nonsense talked about that sort of thing. Women +don't really care; it's only what's put into their heads." + +"That's much the same as saying to a starving man: 'You don't really +want anything; it's only what's put into your head!' You are begging +the question, my friend." + +But nothing was more calculated to annoy Halidome than to tell him he +was "begging the question," for he prided himself on being strong in +logic. + +"That be d---d," he said. + +"Not at all, old chap. Here is a case where a woman wants her +freedom, and you merely answer that she dogs n't want it." + +"Women like that are impossible; better leave them out of court." + +Shelton pondered this and smiled; he had recollected an acquaintance +of his own, who, when his wife had left him, invented the theory that +she was mad, and this struck him now as funny. But then he thought: +"Poor devil! he was bound to call her mad! If he didn't, it would +be confessing himself distasteful; however true, you can't expect a +man to consider himself that." But a glance at his friend's eye +warned him that he, too, might think his wife mad in such a case. + +"Surely," he said, "even if she's his wife, a man's bound to behave +like a gentleman." + +"Depends on whether she behaves like a lady." + +"Does it? I don't see the connection." + +Halidome paused in the act of turning the latch-key in his door; +there was a rather angry smile in his fine eyes. + +"My dear chap," he said, "you're too sentimental altogether." + +The word "sentimental" nettled Shelton. "A gentleman either is a +gentleman or he is n't; what has it to do with the way other people +behave?" + +Halidome turned the key in the lock and opened the door into his +hall, where the firelight fell on the decanters and huge chairs drawn +towards the blaze. + +"No, Bird," he said, resuming his urbanity, and gathering his coat- +tails in his hands; "it's all very well to talk, but wait until +you're married. A man must be master, and show it, too." + +An idea occurred to Shelton. + +"Look here, Hal," he said: "what should you do if your wife got tired +of you?" + +The expression on Halidome's face was a mixture of amusement and +contempt. + +"I don't mean anything personal, of course, but apply the situation +to yourself." + +Halidome took out a toothpick, used it brusquely, and responded: + +"I shouldn't stand any humbug--take her travelling; shake her mind +up. She'd soon come round." + +"But suppose she really loathed you?" + +Halidome cleared his throat; the idea was so obviously indecent. How +could anybody loathe him? With great composure, however, regarding +Shelton as if he were a forward but amusing child, he answered: + +"There are a great many things to be taken into consideration." + +"It appears to me," said Shelton, "to be a question of common pride. +How can you, ask anything of a woman who doesn't want to give it." + +His friend's voice became judicial. + +"A man ought not to suffer," he said, poring over his whisky, +"because a woman gets hysteria. You have to think of Society, your +children, house, money arrangements, a thousand things. It's all +very well to talk. How do you like this whisky?" + +"The part of the good citizen, in fact," said Shelton, "self- +preservation!" + +"Common-sense," returned his friend; "I believe in justice before +sentiment." He drank, and callously blew smoke at Shelton. +"Besides, there are many people with religious views about it." + +"It's always seemed to me," said Shelton, "to be quaint that people +should assert that marriage gives them the right to 'an eye for an +eye,' and call themselves Christians. Did you ever know anybody +stand on their rights except out of wounded pride or for the sake of +their own comfort? Let them call their reasons what they like, you +know as well as I do that it's cant." + +"I don't know about that," said Halidome, more and more superior as +Shelton grew more warm; "when you stand on your rights, you do it for +the sake of Society as well as for your own. If you want to do away +with marriage, why don't you say so?" + +"But I don't," said Shelton:" is it likely? Why, I'm going---" He +stopped without adding the words "to be married myself," for it +suddenly occurred to him that the reason was not the most lofty and +philosophic in the world. "All I can say is," he went on soberly, +"that you can't make a horse drink by driving him. Generosity is the +surest way of tightening the knot with people who've any sense of +decency; as to the rest, the chief thing is to prevent their +breeding." + +Halidome smiled. + +"You're a rum chap," he said. + +Shelton jerked his cigarette into the fire. + +"I tell you what"--for late at night a certain power of vision came +to him--"it's humbug to talk of doing things for the sake of Society; +it's nothing but the instinct to keep our own heads above the water." + +But Halidome remained unruffled. + +"All right," he said, "call it that. I don't see why I should go to +the wall; it wouldn't do any good." + +"You admit, then," said Shelton, "that our morality is the sum total +of everybody's private instinct of self-preservation?" + +Halidome stretched his splendid frame and yawned. + +"I don't know," he began, "that I should quite call it that--" + +But the compelling complacency of his fine eyes, the dignified +posture of his healthy body, the lofty slope of his narrow forehead, +the perfectly humane look of his cultivated brutality, struck Shelton +as ridiculous. + +"Hang it, Hall" he cried, jumping from his chair, "what an old fraud +you are! I'll be off." + +"No, look here!" said Halidome; the faintest shade of doubt had +appeared upon his face; he took Shelton by a lapel: "You're quite +wrong---" + +"Very likely; good-night, old chap!" + +Shelton walked home, letting the spring wind into him. It was +Saturday, and he passed many silent couples. In every little patch +of shadow he could see two forms standing or sitting close together, +and in their presence Words the Impostors seemed to hold their +tongues. The wind rustled the buds; the stars, one moment bright as +diamonds, vanished the next. In the lower streets a large part of +the world was under the influence of drink, but by this Shelton was +far from being troubled. It seemed better than Drama, than dressing- +bagged men, unruffled women, and padded points of view, better than +the immaculate solidity of his friend's possessions. + +"So," he reflected, "it's right for every reason, social, religious, +and convenient, to inflict one's society where it's not desired. +There are obviously advantages about the married state; charming to +feel respectable while you're acting in a way that in any other walk +of life would bring on you contempt. If old Halidome showed that he +was tired of me, and I continued to visit him, he'd think me a bit of +a cad; but if his wife were to tell him she couldn't stand him, he'd +still consider himself a perfect gentleman if he persisted in giving +her the burden of his society; and he has the cheek to bring religion +into it--a religion that says, 'Do unto others!'" + +But in this he was unjust to Halidome, forgetting how impossible it +was for him to believe that a woman could not stand him. He reached +his rooms, and, the more freely to enjoy the clear lamplight, the +soft, gusty breeze, and waning turmoil of the streets, waited a +moment before entering. + +"I wonder," thought he, "if I shall turn out a cad when I marry, like +that chap in the play. It's natural. We all want our money's worth, +our pound of flesh! Pity we use such fine words--'Society, +Religion, Morality.' Humbug!" + +He went in, and, throwing his window open, remained there a long +time, his figure outlined against the lighted room for the benefit of +the dark square below, his hands in his pockets, his head down, a +reflective frown about his eyes. A half-intoxicated old ruffian, a +policeman, and a man in a straw hat had stopped below, and were +holding a palaver. + +"Yus," the old ruffian said, "I'm a rackety old blank; but what I say +is, if we wus all alike, this would n't be a world!" + +They went their way, and before the listener's eyes there rose +Antonia's face, with its unruffled brow; Halidome's, all health and +dignity; the forehead of the goggle-eyed man, with its line of hair +parted in the centre, and brushed across. A light seemed to illumine +the plane of their existence, as the electric lamp with the green +shade had illumined the pages of the Matthew Arnold; serene before +Shelton's vision lay that Elysium, untouched by passion or extremes +of any kind, autocratic; complacent, possessive, and well-kept as any +Midland landscape. Healthy, wealthy, wise! No room but for +perfection, self-preservation, the survival of the fittest! "The +part of the good citizen," he thought: "no, if we were all alike, +this would n't be a world!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +MARRIAGE SETTLEMENT + +"My dear Richard" (wrote Shelton's uncle the next day), "I shall be +glad to see you at three o'clock to-morrow afternoon upon the +question of your marriage settlement...." At that hour accordingly +Shelton made his way to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where in fat black +letters the names "Paramor and Herring (Commissioners for Oaths)" +were written on the wall of a stone entrance. He ascended the solid +steps with nervousness, and by a small red-haired boy was introduced +to a back room on the first floor. Here, seated at a table in the +very centre, as if he thereby better controlled his universe, a pug- +featured gentleman, without a beard, was writing. He paused. +"Ow, Mr. Richard!" he said; "glad to see you, sir. Take a chair. +Your uncle will be disengaged in 'arf a minute"; and in the tone of +his allusion to his employer was the satirical approval that comes +with long and faithful service. "He will do everything himself," he +went on, screwing up his sly, greenish, honest eyes, "and he 's not a +young man." + +Shelton never saw his uncle's clerk without marvelling at the +prosperity deepening upon his face. In place of the look of +harassment which on most faces begins to grow after the age of fifty, +his old friend's countenance, as though in sympathy with the nation, +had expanded--a little greasily, a little genially, a little +coarsely--every time he met it. A contemptuous tolerance for people +who were not getting on was spreading beneath its surface; it left +each time a deeper feeling that its owner could never be in the +wrong. + +"I hope you're well, sir," he resumed: "most important for you to +have your health now you're going-to"--and, feeling for the delicate +way to put it, he involuntarily winked--"to become a family man. We +saw it in the paper. My wife said to me the other morning at +breakfast: 'Bob, here's a Mr. Richard Paramor Shelton goin' to be +married. Is that any relative of your Mr. Shelton?' 'My dear,' I +said to her, 'it's the very man!'" + +It disquieted Shelton to perceive that his old friend did not pass +the whole of his life at that table writing in the centre of the +room, but that somewhere (vistas of little grey houses rose before +his eyes) he actually lived another life where someone called him +"Bob." Bob! And this, too, was a revelation. Bob! Why, of course, +it was the only name for him! A bell rang. + +"That's your uncle"; and again the head clerk's voice sounded +ironical. "Good-bye, sir." + +He seemed to clip off intercourse as one clips off electric light. +Shelton left him writing, and preceded the red-haired boy to an +enormous room in the front where his uncle waited. + +Edmund Paramor was a medium-sized and upright man of seventy, whose +brown face was perfectly clean-shaven. His grey, silky hair was +brushed in a cock's comb from his fine forehead, bald on the left +side. He stood before the hearth facing the room, and his figure had +the springy abruptness of men who cannot fatten. There was a certain +youthfulness, too, in his eyes, yet they had a look as though he had +been through fire; and his mouth curled at the corners in surprising +smiles. The room was like the man--morally large, void of red-tape +and almost void of furniture; no tin boxes were ranged against the +walls, no papers littered up the table; a single bookcase contained a +complete edition of the law reports, and resting on the Law Directory +was a single red rose in a glass of water. It looked the room of one +with a sober magnanimity, who went to the heart of things, despised +haggling, and before whose smiles the more immediate kinds of humbug +faded. + +"Well, Dick," said he, "how's your mother?" + +Shelton replied that his mother was all right. + +"Tell her that I'm going to sell her Easterns after all, and put into +this Brass thing. You can say it's safe, from me." + +Shelton made a face. + +"Mother," said he, "always believes things are safe." + +His uncle looked through him with his keen, half-suffering glance, +and up went the corners of his mouth. + +"She's splendid," he said. + +"Yes," said Shelton, "splendid." + +The transaction, however, did not interest him; his uncle's judgment +in such matters had a breezy soundness he would never dream of +questioning. + +"Well, about your settlement"; and, touching a bell three times, Mr. +Paramor walked up and down the room. "Bring me the draft of Mr. +Richard's marriage settlement." + +The stalwart commissionaire reappearing with a document--"Now then, +Dick," said Mr. Paramor. "She 's not bringing anything into +settlement, I understand; how 's that?" + +"I did n't want it," replied Shelton, unaccountably ashamed. + +Mr. Paramor's lips quivered; he drew the draft closer, took up a blue +pencil, and, squeezing Shelton's arm, began to read. The latter, +following his uncle's rapid exposition of the clauses, was relieved +when he paused suddenly. + +"If you die and she marries again," said Mr. Paramor, "she forfeits +her life interest--see?" + +"Oh!" said Shelton; "wait a minute, Uncle Ted." + +Mr. Paramor waited, biting his pencil; a smile flickered on his +mouth, and was decorously subdued. It was Shelton's turn to walk +about. + +"If she marries again," he repeated to himself. + +Mr. Paramor was a keen fisherman; he watched his nephew as he might +have watched a fish he had just landed. + +"It's very usual," he remarked. + +Shelton took another turn. + +"She forfeits," thought he; "exactly." + +When he was dead, he would have no other way of seeing that she +continued to belong to him. Exactly! + +Mr. Paramor's haunting eyes were fastened on his nephew's face. + +"Well, my dear," they seemed to say, "what 's the matter?" + +Exactly! Why should she have his money if she married again? She +would forfeit it. There was comfort in the thought. Shelton came +back and carefully reread the clause, to put the thing on a purely +business basis, and disguise the real significance of what was +passing in his mind. + +"If I die and she marries again," he repeated aloud, "she forfeits." + +What wiser provision for a man passionately in love could possibly +have been devised? His uncle's eye travelled beyond him, humanely +turning from the last despairing wriggles of his fish. + +"I don't want to tie her," said Shelton suddenly. + +The corners of Mr. Paramour's mouth flew up. + +"You want the forfeiture out?" he asked. + +The blood rushed into Shelton's face; he felt he had been detected in +a piece of sentiment. + +"Ye-es," he stammered. + +"Sure?" + +"Quite!" The answer was a little sulky. + +Her uncle's pencil descended on the clause, and he resumed the +reading of the draft, but Shelton could not follow it; he was too +much occupied in considering exactly why Mr. Paramor had been amused, +and to do this he was obliged to keep his eyes upon him. Those +features, just pleasantly rugged; the springy poise of the figure; +the hair neither straight nor curly, neither short nor long; the +haunting look of his eyes and the humorous look of his mouth; his +clothes neither shabby nor dandified; his serviceable, fine hands; +above all, the equability of the hovering blue pencil, conveyed the +impression of a perfect balance between heart and head, sensibility +and reason, theory and its opposite. + +"'During coverture,'" quoted Mr. Paramor, pausing again, "you +understand, of course, if you don't get on, and separate, she goes on +taking?" + +If they didn't get on! Shelton smiled. Mr. Paramor did not smile, +and again Shelton had the sense of having knocked up against +something poised but firm. He remarked irritably: + +"If we 're not living together, all the more reason for her having +it." + +This time his uncle smiled. It was difficult for Shelton to feel +angry at that ironic merriment, with its sudden ending; it was too +impersonal to irritate: it was too concerned with human nature. + +"If--hum--it came to the other thing," said Mr. Paramor, "the +settlement's at an end as far as she 's concerned. We 're bound to +look at every case, you know, old boy." + +The memory of the play and his conversation with Halidome was still +strong in Shelton. He was not one of those who could not face the +notion of transferred affections--at a safe distance. + +"All right, Uncle Ted," said he. For one mad moment he was attacked +by the desire to "throw in" the case of divorce. Would it not be +common chivalry to make her independent, able to change her +affections if she wished, unhampered by monetary troubles? You only +needed to take out the words "during coverture." + +Almost anxiously he looked into his uncle's face. There was no +meanness there, but neither was there encouragement in that +comprehensive brow with its wide sweep of hair. "Quixotism," it +seemed to say, "has merits, but--" The room, too, with its wide +horizon and tall windows, looking as if it dealt habitually in +common-sense, discouraged him. Innumerable men of breeding and the +soundest principles must have bought their wives in here. It was +perfumed with the atmosphere of wisdom and law-calf. The aroma of +Precedent was strong; Shelton swerved his lance, and once more +settled down to complete the purchase of his wife. + +"I can't conceive what you're--in such a hurry for; you 're not going +to be married till the autumn," said Mr. Paramor, finishing at last. + +Replacing the blue pencil in the rack, he took the red rose from the +glass, and sniffed at it. "Will you come with me as far as Pall +Mall? I 'm going to take an afternoon off; too cold for Lord's, I +suppose?" + +They walked into the Strand. + +"Have you seen this new play of Borogrove's?" asked Shelton, as they +passed the theatre to which he had been with Halidome. + +"I never go to modern plays," replied Mr. Paramor; "too d---d +gloomy." + +Shelton glanced at him; he wore his hat rather far back on his head, +his eyes haunted the street in front; he had shouldered his umbrella. + +"Psychology 's not in your line, Uncle Ted?" + +"Is that what they call putting into words things that can't be put +in words?" + +"The French succeed in doing it," replied Shelton, "and the Russians; +why should n't we?" + +Mr. Paramor stopped to look in at a fishmonger's. + +"What's right for the French and Russians, Dick," he said "is wrong +for us. When we begin to be real, we only really begin to be false. +I should like to have had the catching of that fellow; let's send him +to your mother." He went in and bought a salmon: + +"Now, my dear," he continued, as they went on, "do you tell me that +it's decent for men and women on the stage to writhe about like eels? +Is n't life bad enough already?" + +It suddenly struck Shelton that, for all his smile, his uncle's face +had a look of crucifixion. It was, perhaps, only the stronger +sunlight in the open spaces of Trafalgar Square. + +"I don't know," he said; "I think I prefer the truth." + +"Bad endings and the rest," said Mr. Paramor, pausing under one of +Nelson's lions and taking Shelton by a button. "Truth 's the very +devil!" + +He stood there, very straight, his eyes haunting his nephew's face; +there seemed to Shelton a touching muddle in his optimism--a muddle +of tenderness and of intolerance, of truth and second-handedness. +Like the lion above him, he seemed to be defying Life to make him +look at her. + +"No, my dear," he said, handing sixpence to a sweeper; "feelings are +snakes! only fit to be kept in bottles with tight corks. You won't +come to my club? Well, good-bye, old boy; my love to your mother +when you see her"; and turning up the Square, he left Shelton to go +on to his own club, feeling that he had parted, not from his uncle, +but from the nation of which they were both members by birth and +blood and education. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE CLUB + +He went into the library of his club, and took up Burke's Peerage. +The words his uncle had said to him on hearing his engagement had +been these: "Dennant! Are those the Holm Oaks Dennants? She was a +Penguin." + +No one who knew Mr. Paramor connected him with snobbery, but there +had been an "Ah! that 's right; this is due to us" tone about the +saying. + +Shelton hunted for the name of Baltimore: "Charles Penguin, fifth +Baron Baltimore. Issue: Alice, b. 184-, m. 186- Algernon Dennant, +Esq., of Holm Oaks, Cross Eaton, Oxfordshire." He put down the +Peerage and took up the 'Landed Gentry': "Dennant, Algernon Cuffe, +eldest son of the late Algernon Cuffe Dennant, Esq., J. P., and +Irene, 2nd daur. of the Honble. Philip and Lady Lillian March Mallow; +ed. Eton and Ch. Ch., Oxford, J. P. for Oxfordshire. Residence, Holm +Oaks," etc., etc. Dropping the 'Landed Gentry', he took up a volume +of the 'Arabian Nights', which some member had left reposing on the +book-rest of his chair, but instead of reading he kept looking round +the room. In almost every seat, reading or snoozing, were gentlemen +who, in their own estimation, might have married Penguins. For the +first time it struck him with what majestic leisureliness they turned +the pages of their books, trifled with their teacups, or lightly +snored. Yet no two were alike--a tall man-with dark moustache, thick +hair, and red, smooth cheeks; another, bald, with stooping shoulders; +a tremendous old buck, with a grey, pointed beard and large white +waistcoat; a clean-shaven dapper man past middle age, whose face was +like a bird's; a long, sallow, misanthrope; and a sanguine creature +fast asleep. Asleep or awake, reading or snoring, fat or thin, hairy +or bald, the insulation of their red or pale faces was complete. +They were all the creatures of good form. Staring at them or reading +the Arabian Nights Shelton spent the time before dinner. He had not +been long seated in the dining-room when a distant connection +strolled up and took the next table. + +"Ah, Shelton! Back? Somebody told me you were goin' round the +world." He scrutinised the menu through his eyeglass. "Clear soup! +. . . Read Jellaby's speech? Amusing the way he squashes all +those fellows. Best man in the House, he really is." + +Shelton paused in the assimilation of asparagus; he, too, had been in +the habit of admiring Jellaby, but now he wondered why. The red and +shaven face beside him above a broad, pure shirt-front was swollen by +good humour; his small, very usual, and hard eyes were fixed +introspectively on the successful process of his eating. + +"Success!" thought Shelton, suddenly enlightened--"success is what +we admire in Jellaby. We all want success . . . . Yes," he +admitted, "a successful beast." + +"Oh!" said his neighbour, "I forgot. You're in the other camp?" + +"Not particularly. Where did you get that idea?" + +His neighbour looked round negligently. + +"Oh," said he, "I somehow thought so"; and Shelton almost heard him +adding, "There's something not quite sound about you." + +"Why do you admire Jellaby?" he asked. + +"Knows his own mind," replied his neighbour; "it 's more than the +others do . . . . This whitebait is n't fit for cats! Clever +fellow, Jellaby! No nonsense about him! Have you ever heard him +speak? Awful good sport to watch him sittin' on the Opposition. A +poor lot they are!" and he laughed, either from appreciation of +Jellaby sitting on a small minority, or from appreciation of the +champagne bubbles in his glass. + +"Minorities are always depressing," said Shelton dryly. + +"Eh? what?" + +"I mean," said Shelton, "it's irritating to look at people who have +n't a chance of success--fellows who make a mess of things, fanatics, +and all that." + +His neighbour turned his eyes inquisitively. + +"Er--yes, quite," said he; "don't you take mint sauce? It's the +best part of lamb, I always think." + +The great room with its countless little tables, arranged so that +every man might have the support of the gold walls to his back, began +to regain its influence on Shelton. How many times had he not sat +there, carefully nodding to acquaintances, happy if he got the table +he was used to, a paper with the latest racing, and someone to gossip +with who was not a bounder; while the sensation of having drunk +enough stole over him. Happy! That is, happy as a horse is happy +who never leaves his stall. + +"Look at poor little Bing puffin' about," said his neighbour, +pointing to a weazened, hunchy waiter. "His asthma's awf'ly bad; you +can hear him wheezin' from the street." + +He seemed amused. + +"There 's no such thing as moral asthma, I suppose?" said Shelton. + +His neighbour dropped his eyeglass. + +"Here, take this away; it's overdone;" said he. "Bring me some +lamb." + +Shelton pushed his table back. + +"Good-night," he said; "the Stilton's excellent!" + +His neighbour raised his brows, and dropped his eyes again upon his +plate. + +In the hall Shelton went from force of habit to the weighing-scales +and took his weight. "Eleven stone!" he thought; "gone up!" and, +clipping a cigar, he sat down in the smoking-room with a novel. + +After half an hour he dropped the book. There seemed something +rather fatuous about this story, for though it had a thrilling plot, +and was full of well-connected people, it had apparently been +contrived to throw no light on anything whatever. He looked at the +author's name; everyone was highly recommending it. He began +thinking, and staring at the fire . . . . + +Looking up, he saw Antonia's second brother, a young man in the +Rifles, bending over him with sunny cheeks and lazy smile, clearly +just a little drunk. + +"Congratulate you, old chap! I say, what made you grow that +b-b-eastly beard?" + +Shelton grinned. + +"Pillbottle of the Duchess!" read young Dennant, taking up the book. +"You been reading that? Rippin', is n't it?" + +"Oh, ripping!" replied Shelton. + +"Rippin' plot! When you get hold of a novel you don't want any rot +about--what d'you call it?--psychology, you want to be amused." + +"Rather!" murmured Shelton. + +"That's an awfully good bit where the President steals her diamonds +There's old Benjy! Hallo, Benjy!" + +"Hallo, Bill, old man!" + +This Benjy was a young, clean-shaven creature, whose face and voice +and manner were a perfect blend of steel and geniality. + +In addition to this young man who was so smooth and hard and cheery, +a grey, short-bearded gentleman, with misanthropic eyes, called +Stroud, came up; together with another man of Shelton's age, with a +moustache and a bald patch the size of a crown-piece, who might be +seen in the club any night of the year when there was no racing out +of reach of London. + +"You know," began young Dennant, "that this bounder"--he slapped the +young man Benjy on the knee--"is going to be spliced to-morrow. Miss +Casserol--you know the Casserols--Muncaster Gate." + +"By Jove!" said Shelton, delighted to be able to say something they +would understand. + +"Young Champion's the best man, and I 'm the second best. I tell you +what, old chap, you 'd better come with me and get your eye in; you +won't get such another chance of practice. Benjy 'll give you a +card." + +"Delighted!" murmured Benjy. + +"Where is it?" + +"St. Briabas; two-thirty. Come and see how they do the trick. I'll +call for you at one; we'll have some lunch and go together"; again he +patted Benjy's knee. + +Shelton nodded his assent; the piquant callousness of the affair had +made him shiver, and furtively he eyed the steely Benjy, whose +suavity had never wavered, and who appeared to take a greater +interest in some approaching race than in his coming marriage. But +Shelton knew from his own sensations that this could not really be +the case; it was merely a question of "good form," the conceit of a +superior breeding, the duty not to give oneself away. And when in +turn he marked the eyes of Stroud fixed on Benjy, under shaggy brows, +and the curious greedy glances of the racing man, he felt somehow +sorry for him. + +"Who 's that fellow with the game leg--I'm always seeing him about?" +asked the racing man. + +And Shelton saw a sallow man, conspicuous for a want of parting in +his hair and a certain restlessness of attitude. + +"His name is Bayes," said Stroud; "spends half his time among the +Chinese--must have a grudge against them! And now he 's got his leg +he can't go there any more." + +"Chinese? What does he do to them?" + +"Bibles or guns. Don't ask me! An adventurer." + +"Looks a bit of a bounder," said the racing man. + +Shelton gazed at the twitching eyebrows of old Stroud; he saw at once +how it must annoy a man who had a billet in the "Woods and Forests," +and plenty of time for "bridge" and gossip at his club, to see these +people with untidy lives. A minute later the man with the "game leg" +passed close behind his chair, and Shelton perceived at once how +intelligible the resentment of his fellow-members was. He had eyes +which, not uncommon in this country, looked like fires behind steel +bars; he seemed the very kind of man to do all sorts of things that +were "bad form," a man who might even go as far as chivalry. He +looked straight at Shelton, and his uncompromising glance gave an +impression of fierce loneliness; altogether, an improper person to +belong to such. a club. Shelton remembered the words of an old +friend of his father's: "Yes, Dick, all sorts of fellows belong here, +and they come here for all sorts o' reasons, and a lot of em come +because they've nowhere else to go, poor beggars"; and, glancing from +the man with the "game leg" to Stroud, it occurred to Shelton that +even he, old Stroud, might be one of these poor beggars. One never +knew! A look at Benjy, contained and cheery, restored him. Ah, the +lucky devil! He would not have to come here any more! and the +thought of the last evening he himself would be spending before long +flooded his mind with a sweetness that was almost pain. + +"Benjy, I'll play you a hundred up!" said young Bill Dennant. + +Stroud and the racing man went to watch the game; Shelton was left +once more to reverie. + +"Good form!" thought he; "that fellow must be made of steel. They'll +go on somewhere; stick about half the night playing poker, or some +such foolery." + +He crossed over to the window. Rain had begun to fall; the streets +looked wild and draughty. The cabmen were putting on their coats. +Two women scurried by, huddled under one umbrella, and a thin- +clothed, dogged-looking scarecrow lounged past with a surly, +desperate step. Shelton, returning to his chair, threaded his way +amongst his fellow-members. A procession of old school and college +friends came up before his eyes. After all, what had there been in +his own education, or theirs, to give them any other standard than +this "good form"? What had there been to teach them anything of +life? Their imbecility was incredible when you came to think of it. +They had all the air of knowing everything, and really they knew +nothing--nothing of Nature, Art, or the Emotions; nothing of the +bonds that bind all men together. Why, even such words were not +"good form"; nothing outside their little circle was "good form." +They had a fixed point of view over life because they came of certain +schools, and colleges, and regiments! And they were those in charge +of the state, of laws, and science, of the army, and religion. Well, +it was their system--the system not to start too young, to form +healthy fibre, and let the after-life develop it! + +"Successful!" he thought, nearly stumbling over a pair of patent- +leather boots belonging to a moon-faced, genial-looking member with +gold nose-nippers; "oh, it 's successful!" + +Somebody came and picked up from the table the very volume which had +originally inspired this train of thought, and Shelton could see his +solemn pleasure as he read. In the white of his eye there was a +torpid and composed abstraction. There was nothing in that book to +startle him or make him think. + +The moon-faced member with the patent boots came up and began talking +of his recent visit to the south of France. He had a scandalous +anecdote or two to tell, and his broad face beamed behind his gold +nose-nippers; he was a large man with such a store of easy, worldly +humour that it was impossible not to appreciate his gossip, he gave +so perfect an impression of enjoying life, and doing himself well. +"Well, good-night!" he murmured--" An engagement!"--and the +certainty he left behind that his engagement must be charming and +illicit was pleasant to the soul. + +And, slowly taking up his glass, Shelton drank; the sense of well- +being was upon him. His superiority to these his fellow-members +soothed him. He saw through all the sham of this club life, the +meanness of this worship of success, the sham of kid-gloved +novelists, "good form," and the terrific decency of our education. +It was soothing thus to see through things, soothing thus to be +superior; and from the soft recesses of his chair he puffed out smoke +and stretched his limbs toward the fire; and the fire burned back at +him with a discreet and venerable glow. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE WEDDING + +Puncutal to his word, Bill Dennant called for Shelton at one o'clock. + +"I bet old Benjy's feeling a bit cheap," said he, as they got out of +their cab at the church door and passed between the crowded files of +unelect, whose eyes, so curious and pitiful, devoured them from the +pavement. + +The ashen face of a woman, with a baby in her arms and two more by +her side, looked as eager as if she had never experienced the pangs +of ragged matrimony. Shelton went in inexplicably uneasy; the price +of his tie was their board and lodging for a week. He followed his +future brother-in-law to a pew on the bridegroom's side, for, with +intuitive perception of the sexes' endless warfare, each of the +opposing parties to this contract had its serried battalion, the +arrows of whose suspicion kept glancing across and across the central +aisle. + +Bill Dennant's eyes began to twinkle. + +"There's old Benjy!" he whispered; and Shelton looked at the hero of +the day. A subdued pallor was traceable under the weathered +uniformity of his shaven face; but the well-bred, artificial smile he +bent upon the guests had its wonted steely suavity. About his dress +and his neat figure was that studied ease which lifts men from the +ruck of common bridegrooms. There were no holes in his armour +through which the impertinent might pry. + +"Good old Benjy!" whispered young Dennant; "I say, they look a bit +short of class, those Casserols." + +Shelton, who was acquainted with this family, smiled. The sensuous +sanctity all round had begun to influence him. A perfume of flowers +and dresses fought with the natural odour of the church; the rustle +of whisperings and skirts struck through the native silence of the +aisles, and Shelton idly fixed his eyes on a lady in the pew in +front; without in the least desiring to make a speculation of this +sort, he wondered whether her face was as charming as the lines of +her back in their delicate, skin-tight setting of pearl grey; his +glance wandered to the chancel with its stacks of flowers, to the +grave, business faces of the presiding priests, till the organ began +rolling out the wedding march. + +"They're off!" whispered young Dermant. + +Shelton was conscious of a shiver running through the audience which +reminded him of a bullfight he had seen in Spain. The bride came +slowly up the aisle. "Antonia will look like that," he thought, "and +the church will be filled with people like this . . . . She'll be +a show to them!" The bride was opposite him now, and by an instinct +of common chivalry he turned away his eyes; it seemed to him a shame +to look at that downcast head above the silver mystery of her perfect +raiment; the modest head full, doubtless, of devotion and pure +yearnings; the stately head where no such thought as "How am I +looking, this day of all days, before all London?" had ever entered; +the proud head, which no such fear as "How am I carrying it off?" +could surely be besmirching. + +He saw below the surface of this drama played before his eyes, and +set his face, as a man might who found himself assisting at a +sacrifice. The words fell, unrelenting, on his ears: "For better, +for worse, for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health--" and +opening the Prayer Book he found the Marriage Service, which he had +not looked at since he was a boy, and as he read he had some very +curious sensations. + +All this would soon be happening to himself! He went on reading in a +kind of stupor, until aroused by his companion whispering, "No luck!" +All around there rose a rustling of skirts; he saw a tall figure +mount the pulpit and stand motionless. Massive and high-featured, +sunken of eye, he towered, in snowy cambric and a crimson stole, +above the blackness of his rostrum; it seemed he had been chosen for +his beauty. Shelton was still gazing at the stitching of his gloves, +when once again the organ played the Wedding March. All were +smiling, and a few were weeping, craning their heads towards the +bride. "Carnival of second-hand emotions!" thought Shelton; and he, +too, craned his head and brushed his hat. Then, smirking at his +friends, he made his way towards the door. + +In the Casserols' house he found himself at last going round the +presents with the eldest Casserol surviving, a tall girl in pale +violet, who had been chief bridesmaid. + +"Did n't it go off well, Mr. Shelton?" she was saying + +"Oh, awfully!" + +"I always think it's so awkward for the man waiting up there for the +bride to come." + +"Yes," murmured Shelton. + +"Don't you think it's smart, the bridesmaids having no hats?" + +Shelton had not noticed this improvement, but he agreed. + +"That was my idea; I think it 's very chic. They 've had fifteen +tea-sets-so dull, is n't it?" + +"By Jove!" Shelton hastened to remark. + +"Oh, its fearfully useful to have a lot of things you don't want; of +course, you change them for those you do." + +The whole of London seemed to have disgorged its shops into this +room; he looked at Miss Casserol's face, and was greatly struck by +the shrewd acquisitiveness of her small eyes. + +"Is that your future brother-in-law?" she asked, pointing to Bill +Dennant with a little movement of her chin; "I think he's such a +bright boy. I want you both to come to dinner, and help to keep +things jolly. It's so deadly after a wedding." + +And Shelton said they would. + +They adjourned to the hall now, to wait for the bride's departure. +Her face as she came down the stairs was impassive, gay, with a +furtive trouble in the eyes, and once more Shelton had the odd +sensation of having sinned against his manhood. Jammed close to him +was her old nurse, whose puffy, yellow face was pouting with emotion, +while tears rolled from her eyes. She was trying to say something, +but in the hubbub her farewell was lost. There was a scamper to the +carriage, a flurry of rice and flowers; the shoe was flung against +the sharply drawn-up window. Then Benjy's shaven face was seen a +moment, bland and steely; the footman folded his arms, and with a +solemn crunch the brougham wheels rolled away. "How splendidly it +went off!" said a voice on Shelton's right. "She looked a little +pale," said a voice on Shelton's left. He put his hand up to his +forehead; behind him the old nurse sniffed. + +"Dick," said young Dennant in his ear, "this isn't good enough; I +vote we bolt." + +Shelton assenting, they walked towards the Park; nor could he tell +whether the slight nausea he experienced was due to afternoon +champagne or to the ceremony that had gone so well. + +"What's up with you?" asked Dennant; "you look as glum as any +m-monkey." + +"Nothing," said Shelton; "I was only thinking what humbugs we all +are!" + +Bill Dennant stopped in the middle of the crossing, and clapped his +future brother-in-law upon the shoulder. + +"Oh," said he, "if you're going to talk shop, I 'm off." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE DINNER + +The dinner at the Casserols' was given to those of the bride's +friends who had been conspicuous in the day's festivities. Shelton +found himself between Miss Casserol and a lady undressed to much the +same degree. Opposite sat a man with a single diamond stud, a white +waistcoat, black moustache, and hawk-like face. This was, in fact, +one of those interesting houses occupied by people of the upper +middle class who have imbibed a taste for smart society. Its +inhabitants, by nature acquisitive and cautious, economical, +tenacious, had learnt to worship the word "smart." The result was a +kind of heavy froth, an air of thoroughly domestic vice. In addition +to the conventionally fast, Shelton had met there one or two ladies, +who, having been divorced, or having yet to be, still maintained +their position in "society." Divorced ladies who did not so maintain +their place were never to be found, for the Casserols had a great +respect for marriage. He had also met there American ladies who were +"too amusing"--never, of course, American men, Mesopotamians of the +financial or the racing type, and several of those gentlemen who had +been, or were about to be, engaged in a transaction which might or +again might not, "come off," and in conduct of an order which might, +or again might not be spotted. The line he knew, was always drawn at +those in any category who were actually found out, for the value of +these ladies and these gentlemen was not their claim to pity--nothing +so sentimental--but their "smartness," clothes, jokes, racing tips, +their "bridge parties," and their motors. + +In sum, the house was one whose fundamental domesticity attracted and +sheltered those who were too "smart" to keep their heads for long +above the water. + +His host, a grey, clean-shaven city man, with a long upper lip, was +trying to understand a lady the audacity of whose speech came ringing +down the table. Shelton himself had given up the effort with his +neighbours, and made love to his dinner, which, surviving the +incoherence of the atmosphere, emerged as a work of art. It was with +surprise that he found Miss Casserol addressing him. + +"I always say that the great thing is to be jolly. If you can't find +anything to make you laugh, pretend you do; it's so much 'smarter to +be amusin'. Now don't you agree?" + +The philosophy seemed excellent. + +"We can't all be geniuses, but we can all look jolly." + +Shelton hastened to look jolly. + +"I tell the governor, when he 's glum, that I shall put up the +shutters and leave him. What's the good of mopin' and lookin' +miserable? Are you going to the Four-in-Hand Meet? We're making a +party. Such fun; all the smart people!" + +The splendour of her shoulders, her frizzy hair (clearly not two +hours out of the barber's hands), might have made him doubtful; but +the frank shrewdness in her eyes, and her carefully clipped tone of +voice, were guarantees that she was part of the element at the table +which was really quite respectable. He had never realised before how +"smart" she was, and with an effort abandoned himself to a sort of +gaiety that would have killed a Frenchman. + +And when she left him, he reflected upon the expression of her eyes +when they rested on a lady opposite, who was a true bird-of-prey. +"What is it," their envious, inquisitive glance had seemed to say, +"that makes you so really 'smart'?" And while still seeking for the +reason, he noticed his host pointing out the merits of his port to +the hawk-like man, with a deferential air quite pitiful to see, for +the hawk-like man was clearly a "bad hat." What in the name of +goodness did these staid bourgeois mean by making up to vice? Was it +a craving to be thought distinguished, a dread of being dull, or +merely an effect of overfeeding? Again he looked at his host, who +had not yet enumerated all the virtues of his port, and again felt +sorry for him. + +"So you're going to marry Antonia Dennant?" said a voice on his +right, with that easy coarseness which is a mark of caste. "Pretty +girl! They've a nice place, the, Dennants. D' ye know, you're a +lucky feller!" + +The speaker was an old baronet, with small eyes, a dusky, ruddy face, +and peculiar hail-fellow-well-met expression, at once morose and sly. +He was always hard up, but being a man of enterprise knew all the +best people, as well as all the worst, so that he dined out every +night. + +"You're a lucky feller," he repeated; "he's got some deuced good +shootin', Dennant! They come too high for me, though; never touched +a feather last time I shot there. She's a pretty girl. You 're a +lucky feller!" + +"I know that," said Shelton humbly. + +"Wish I were in your shoes. Who was that sittin' on the other side +of you? I'm so dashed short-sighted. Mrs. Carruther? Oh, ay!" An +expression which, if he had not been a baronet, would have been a +leer, came on his lips. + +Shelton felt that he was referring to the leaf in his mental pocket- +book covered with the anecdotes, figures, and facts about that lady. +"The old ogre means," thought he, "that I'm lucky because his leaf is +blank about Antonia." But the old baronet had turned, with his +smile, and his sardonic, well-bred air, to listen to a bit of scandal +on the other side. + +The two men to Shelton's left were talking. + +"What! You don't collect anything? How's that? Everybody collects +something. I should be lost without my pictures." + +"No, I don't collect anything. Given it up; I was too awfully had +over my Walkers." + +Shelton had expected a more lofty reason; he applied himself to the +Madeira in his glass. That, had been "collected" by his host, and +its price was going up! You couldn't get it every day; worth two +guineas a bottle! How precious the idea that other people couldn't +get it, made it seem! Liquid delight; the price was going up! Soon +there would be none left; immense! Absolutely no one, then, could +drink it! + +"Wish I had some of this," said the old baronet, "but I have drunk +all mine." + +"Poor old chap!" thought Shelton; "after all, he's not a bad old +boy. I wish I had his pluck. His liver must be splendid." + +The drawing-room was full of people playing a game concerned with +horses ridden by jockeys with the latest seat. And Shelton was +compelled to help in carrying on this sport till early in the +morning. At last he left, exhausted by his animation. + +He thought of the wedding; he thought over his dinner and the wine +that he had drunk. His mood of satisfaction fizzled out. These +people were incapable of being real, even the smartest, even the most +respectable; they seemed to weigh their pleasures in the scales and +to get the most that could be gotten for their money. + +Between the dark, safe houses stretching for miles and miles, his +thoughts were of Antonia; and as he reached his rooms he was +overtaken by the moment when the town is born again. The first new +air had stolen down; the sky was living, but not yet alight; the +trees were quivering faintly; no living creature stirred, and nothing +spoke except his heart. Suddenly the city seemed to breathe, and +Shelton saw that he was not alone; an unconsidered trifle with +inferior boots was asleep upon his doorstep. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +AN ALIEN + +The individual on the doorstep had fallen into slumber over his own +knees. No greater air of prosperity clung about him than is conveyed +by a rusty overcoat and wisps of cloth in place of socks. Shelton +endeavoured to pass unseen, but the sleeper woke. + +"Ah, it's you, monsieur!" he said "I received your letter this +evening, and have lost no time." He looked down at himself and +tittered, as though to say, "But what a state I 'm in!" + +The young foreigner's condition was indeed more desperate than on the +occasion of their first meeting, and Shelton invited him upstairs. + +"You can well understand," stammered Ferrand, following his host, +"that I did n't want to miss you this time. When one is like this--" +and a spasm gripped his face. + +"I 'm very glad you came," said Shelton doubtfully. + +His visitor's face had a week's growth of reddish beard; the deep tan +of his cheeks gave him a robust appearance at variance with the fit +of, trembling which had seized on him as soon as he had entered. + +"Sit down-sit down," said Shelton; "you 're feeling ill!" + +Ferrand smiled. "It's nothing," said he; "bad nourishment." + +Shelton left him seated on the edge of an armchair, and brought him +in some whisky. + +"Clothes," said Ferrand, when he had drunk, "are what I want. These +are really not good enough." + +The statement was correct, and Shelton, placing some garments in the +bath-room, invited his visitor to make himself at home. While the +latter, then, was doing this, Shelton enjoyed the luxuries of self- +denial, hunting up things he did not want, and laying them in two +portmanteaus. This done, he waited for his visitor's return. + +The young foreigner at length emerged, unshaved indeed, and innocent +of boots, but having in other respects an air of gratifying +affluence. + +"This is a little different," he said. "The boots, I fear"--and, +pulling down his, or rather Shelton's, socks he exhibited sores the +size of half a crown. "One does n't sow without reaping some harvest +or another. My stomach has shrunk," he added simply. "To see things +one must suffer. 'Voyager, c'est plus fort que moi'!" + +Shelton failed to perceive that this was one way of disguising the +human animal's natural dislike of work--there was a touch of pathos, +a suggestion of God-knows-what-might-have-been, about this fellow. + + +"I have eaten my illusions," said the young foreigner, smoking a +cigarette. "When you've starved a few times, your eyes are opened. +'Savoir, c'est mon metier; mais remarquez ceci, monsieur': It 's not +always the intellectuals who succeed." + +"When you get a job," said Shelton, "you throw it away, I suppose." + +"You accuse me of restlessness? Shall I explain what I think about +that? I'm restless because of ambition; I want to reconquer an +independent position. I put all my soul into my trials, but as soon +as I see there's no future for me in that line, I give it up and go +elsewhere. 'Je ne veux pas etre rond de cuir,' breaking my back to +economise sixpence a day, and save enough after forty years to drag +out the remains of an exhausted existence. That's not in my +character." This ingenious paraphrase of the words "I soon get tired +of things" he pronounced with an air of letting Shelton into a +precious secret. + +"Yes; it must be hard," agreed the latter. + +Ferrand shrugged his shoulders. + +"It's not all butter," he replied; "one is obliged to do things that +are not too delicate. There's nothing I pride myself on but +frankness." + +Like a good chemist, however, he administered what Shelton could +stand in a judicious way. "Yes, yes," he seemed to say, "you'd like +me to think that you have a perfect knowledge of life: no morality, +no prejudices, no illusions; you'd like me to think that you feel +yourself on an equality with me, one human animal talking to another, +without any barriers of position, money, clothes, or the rest--'ca +c'est un peu trop fort'! You're as good an imitation as I 've come +across in your class, notwithstanding your unfortunate education, and +I 'm grateful to you, but to tell you everything, as it passes +through my mind would damage my prospects. You can hardly expect +that." + +In one of Shelton's old frock-coats he was impressive, with his air +of natural, almost sensitive refinement. The room looked as if it +were accustomed to him, and more amazing still was the sense of +familiarity that he inspired, as, though he were a part of Shelton's +soul. It came as a shock to realise that this young foreign vagabond +had taken such a place within his thoughts. The pose of his limbs +and head, irregular but not ungraceful; his disillusioned lips; the +rings of smoke that issued from them--all signified rebellion, and +the overthrow of law and order. His thin, lopsided nose, the rapid +glances of his goggling, prominent eyes, were subtlety itself; he +stood for discontent with the accepted. + +"How do I live when I am on the tramp?" he said. "well, there are +the consuls. The system is not delicate, but when it's a question of +starving, much is permissible; besides, these gentlemen were created +for the purpose. There's a coterie of German Jews in Paris living +entirely upon consuls." He hesitated for the fraction of a second, +and resumed: "Yes, monsieur; if you have papers that fit you, you can +try six or seven consuls in a single town. You must know a language +or two; but most of these gentlemen are not too well up in the +tongues of the country they represent. Obtaining money under false +pretences? Well, it is. But what's the difference at bottom between +all this honourable crowd of directors, fashionable physicians, +employers of labour, ferry-builders, military men, country priests, +and consuls themselves perhaps, who take money and give no value for +it, and poor devils who do the same at far greater risk? Necessity +makes the law. If those gentlemen were in my position, do you think +that they would hesitate?" + +Shelton's face remaining doubtful, Ferrand went on instantly: "You're +right; they would, from fear, not principle. One must be hard +pressed before committing these indelicacies. Look deep enough, and +you will see what indelicate things are daily done by the respectable +for not half so good a reason as the want of meals." + +Shelton also took a cigarette--his own income was derived from +property for which he gave no value in labour. + +"I can give you an instance," said Ferrand, "of what can be done by +resolution. One day in a German town, 'etant dans la misere', I +decided to try the French consul. Well, as you know, I am a Fleming, +but something had to be screwed out somewhere. He refused to see me; +I sat down to wait. After about two hours a voice bellowed: 'Has n't +the brute gone?' and my consul appears. 'I 've nothing for fellows +like you,' says he; 'clear out!' + +"'Monsieur,' I answered, 'I am skin and bone; I really must have +assistance.' + +"'Clear out,' he says, 'or the police shall throw you out!' + +"I don't budge. Another hour passes, and back he comes again. + +"'Still here?' says he. 'Fetch a sergeant.' + +"The sergeant comes. + +"'Sergeant,' says the consul, 'turn this creature out.' + +"'Sergeant,' I say, 'this house is France!' Naturally, I had +calculated upon that. In Germany they're not too fond of those who +undertake the business of the French. + +"'He is right,' says the sergeant; 'I can do nothing.' + +"'You refuse?' + +"'Absolutely.' And he went away. + +"'What do you think you'll get by staying?' says my consul. + +"'I have nothing to eat or drink, and nowhere to sleep,' says I. + +"'What will you go for?' + +"'Ten marks.' + +"'Here, then, get out!' I can tell you, monsieur, one must n't have a +thin skin if one wants to exploit consuls." + +His yellow fingers slowly rolled the stump of his cigarette, his +ironical lips flickered. Shelton thought of his own ignorance of +life. He could not recollect ever having gone without a meal. + +"I suppose," he said feebly, "you've often starved." For, having +always been so well fed, the idea of starvation was attractive. + +Ferrand smiled. + +"Four days is the longest," said he. "You won't believe that story. +. . . It was in Paris, and I had lost my money on the race-course. +There was some due from home which didn't come. Four days and nights +I lived on water. My clothes were excellent, and I had jewellery; +but I never even thought of pawning them. I suffered most from the +notion that people might guess my state. You don't recognise me +now?" + +"How old were you then?" said Shelton. + +"Seventeen; it's curious what one's like at that age." + +By a flash of insight Shelton saw the well-dressed boy, with +sensitive, smooth face, always on the move about the streets of +Paris, for fear that people should observe the condition of his +stomach. The story was a valuable commentary. His thoughts were +brusquely interrupted; looking in Ferrand's face, he saw to his +dismay tears rolling down his cheeks. + +"I 've suffered too much," he stammered; "what do I care now what +becomes of me?" + +Shelton was disconcerted; he wished 'to say something sympathetic,' +but, being an Englishman, could only turn away his eyes. + +"Your turn 's coming," he said at last. + +"Ah! when you've lived my life," broke out his visitor, "nothing 's +any good. My heart's in rags. Find me anything worth keeping, in +this menagerie." + +Moved though he was, Shelton wriggled in his chair, a prey to racial +instinct, to an ingrained over-tenderness, perhaps, of soul that +forbade him from exposing his emotions, and recoiled from the +revelation of other people's. He could stand it on the stage, he +could stand it in a book, but in real life he could not stand it. +When Ferrand had gone off with a portmanteau in each hand, he sat +down and told Antonia: + +. . . The poor chap broke down and sat crying like a child; and +instead of making me feel sorry, it turned me into stone. The more +sympathetic I wanted to be, the gruffer I grew. Is it fear of +ridicule, independence, or consideration, for others that prevents +one from showing one's feelings? + +He went on to tell her of Ferrand's starving four days sooner than +face a pawnbroker; and, reading the letter over before addressing it, +the faces of the three ladies round their snowy cloth arose before +him--Antonia's face, so fair and calm and wind-fresh; her mother's +face, a little creased by time and weather; the maiden aunt's +somewhat too thin-and they seemed to lean at him, alert and decorous, +and the words "That's rather nice!" rang in his ears. He went out to +post the letter, and buying a five-shilling order enclosed it to the +little barber, Carolan, as a reward for delivering his note to +Ferrand. He omitted to send his address with this donation, but +whether from delicacy or from caution he could not have said. Beyond +doubt, however, on receiving through Ferrand the following reply, he +felt ashamed and pleased + +3, BLANK Row, +WESTMINSTER. + +>From every well-born soul humanity is owing. A thousand thanks. I +received this morning your postal order; your heart henceforth for me +will be placed beyond all praise. + + J. CAROLAN. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE VISION + +A few days later he received a letter from Antonia which filled him +with excitement: + +. . . Aunt Charlotte is ever so much better, so mother thinks we +can go home-hurrah! But she says that you and I must keep to our +arrangement not to see each other till July. There will be something +fine in being so near and having the strength to keep apart . . . +All the English are gone. I feel it so empty out here; these people +are so funny-all foreign and shallow. Oh, Dick! how splendid to +have an ideal to look up to! Write at once to Brewer's Hotel and +tell me you think the same . . . . We arrive at Charing Cross on +Sunday at half-past seven, stay at Brewer's for a couple of nights, +and go down on Tuesday to Holm Oaks. + +Always your + +ANTONIA. + + +"To-morrow!" he thought; "she's coming tomorrow!" and, leaving his +neglected breakfast, he started out to walk off his emotion. His +square ran into one of those slums that still rub shoulders with the +most distinguished situations, and in it he came upon a little crowd +assembled round a dogfight. One of the dogs was being mauled, but +the day was muddy, and Shelton, like any well-bred Englishman, had a +horror of making himself conspicuous even in a decent cause; he +looked for a policeman. One was standing by, to see fair play, and +Shelton made appeal to him. The official suggested that he should +not have brought out a fighting dog, and advised him to throw cold +water over them. + +"It is n 't my dog," said Shelton. + +"Then I should let 'em be," remarked the policeman with evident +surprise. + +Shelton appealed indefinitely to the lower orders. The lower orders, +however, were afraid of being bitten. + +"I would n't meddle with that there job if I was you," said one. + +"Nasty breed o' dawg is that." + +He was therefore obliged to cast away respectability, spoil his +trousers and his gloves, break his umbrella, drop his hat in the mud, +and separate the dogs. At the conclusion of the "job," the lower +orders said to him in a rather shamefaced spanner: + +"Well, I never thought you'd have managed that, sir"; but, like all +men of inaction, Shelton after action was more dangerous. + +"D----n it!" he said, "one can't let a dog be killed"; and he +marched off, towing the injured dog with his pocket-handkerchief, and +looking scornfully at harmless passers-by. Having satisfied for once +the smouldering fires within him, he felt entitled to hold a low +opinion of these men in the street. "The brutes," he thought, "won't +stir a finger to save a poor dumb creature, and as for policemen---" +But, growing cooler, he began to see that people weighted down by +"honest toil" could not afford to tear their trousers or get a bitten +hand, and that even the policeman, though he had looked so like a +demi-god, was absolutely made of flesh and blood. He took the dog +home, and, sending for a vet., had him sewn up. + +He was already tortured by the doubt whether or no he might venture +to meet Antonia at the station, and, after sending his servant with +the dog to the address marked on its collar, he formed the resolve to +go and see his mother, with some vague notion that she might help him +to decide. She lived in Kensington, and, crossing the Brompton Road, +he was soon amongst that maze of houses into the fibre of whose +structure architects have wrought the motto: "Keep what you have-- +wives, money, a good address, and all the blessings of a moral +state!" + +Shelton pondered as he passed house after house of such intense +respectability that even dogs were known to bark at them. His blood +was still too hot; it is amazing what incidents will promote the +loftiest philosophy. He had been reading in his favourite review an +article eulogising the freedom and expansion which had made the upper +middle class so fine a body; and with eyes wandering from side to +side he nodded his head ironically. "Expansion and freedom," ran his +thoughts: "Freedom and expansion!" + +Each house-front was cold and formal, the shell of an owner with from +three to five thousand pounds a year, and each one was armoured +against the opinion of its neighbours by a sort of daring regularity. +"Conscious of my rectitude; and by the strict observance of exactly +what is necessary and no more, I am enabled to hold my head up in the +world. The person who lives in me has only four thousand two hundred +and fifty-five pounds each year, after allowing for the income tax." +Such seemed the legend of these houses. + +Shelton passed ladies in ones and twos and threes going out shopping, +or to classes of drawing, cooking, ambulance. Hardly any men were +seen, and they were mostly policemen; but a few disillusioned +children were being wheeled towards the Park by fresh-cheeked nurses, +accompanied by a great army of hairy or of hairless dogs. + +There was something of her brother's large liberality about Mrs. +Shelton, a tiny lady with affectionate eyes, warm cheeks, and chilly +feet; fond as a cat of a chair by the fire, and full of the sympathy +that has no insight. She kissed her son at once with rapture, and, +as usual, began to talk of his engagement. For the first time a +tremor of doubt ran through her son; his mother's view of it grated +on him like the sight of a blue-pink dress; it was too rosy. Her +splendid optimism, damped him; it had too little traffic with the +reasoning powers. + +"What right," he asked himself, "has she to be so certain? It seems +to me a kind of blasphemy." + +"The dear!" she cooed. "And she is coming back to-morrow? Hurrah! +how I long to see her!" + +"But you know, mother, we've agreed not to meet again until July." + +Mrs. Shelton rocked her foot, and, holding her head on one side like +a little bird, looked at her son with shining eyes. + +"Dear old Dick!" she said, "how happy you must be!" + +Half a century of sympathy with weddings of all sorts--good, bad, +indifferent--beamed from her. + +"I suppose," said Shelton gloomily, "I ought not to go and see her at +the station." + +"Cheer up!" replied the mother, and her son felt dreadfully +depressed. + +That "Cheer-up!"--the panacea which had carried her blind and bright +through every evil--was as void of meaning to him as wine without a +flavour. + +"And how is your sciatica?" he asked. + +"Oh, pretty bad," returned his mother; "I expect it's all right, +really. Cheer up!" She stretched her little figure, canting her +head still more. + +"Wonderful woman!" Shelton thought. She had, in fact, like many of +her fellow-countrymen, mislaid the darker side of things, and, +enjoying the benefits of orthodoxy with an easy conscience, had kept +as young in heart as any girl of thirty. + +Shelton left her house as doubtful whether he might meet Antonia as +when he entered it. He spent a restless afternoon. + +The next day--that of her arrival--was a Sunday. He had made Ferrand +a promise to go with him to hear a sermon in the slums, and, catching +at any diversion which might allay excitement, he fulfilled it. The +preacher in question--an amateur, so Ferrand told him--had an +original method of distributing the funds that he obtained. To male +sheep he gave nothing, to ugly female sheep a very little, to pretty +female sheep the rest. Ferrand hazarded an inference, but he was a +foreigner. The Englishman preferred to look upon the preacher as +guided by a purely abstract love of beauty. His eloquence, at any +rate, was unquestionable, and Shelton came out feeling sick. + +It was not yet seven o'clock, so, entering an Italian restaurant to +kill the half-hour before Antonia's arrival, he ordered a bottle of +wine for his companion, a cup of coffee for himself, and, lighting a +cigarette, compressed his lips. There was a strange, sweet sinking +in his heart. His companion, ignorant of this emotion, drank his +wine, crumbled his roll, and blew smoke through his nostrils, +glancing caustically at the rows of little tables, the cheap mirrors, +the hot, red velvet, the chandeliers. His juicy lips seemed to be +murmuring, "Ah! if you only knew of the dirt behind these feathers!" +Shelton watched him with disgust. Though his clothes were now so +nice, his nails were not quite clean, and his fingertips seemed +yellow to the bone. An anaemic waiter in a shirt some four days old, +with grease-spots on his garments and a crumpled napkin on his arm, +stood leaning an elbow amongst doubtful fruits, and reading an +Italian journal. Resting his tired feet in turn, he looked like +overwork personified, and when he moved, each limb accused the sordid +smartness of the walls. In the far corner sat a lady eating, and, +mirrored opposite, her feathered hat, her short, round face, its coat +of powder, and dark eyes, gave Shelton a shiver of disgust. His +companion's gaze rested long and subtly on her. + +"Excuse me, monsieur," he said at length. "I think I know that +lady!" And, leaving his host, he crossed the room, bowed, accosted +her, and sat down. With Pharisaic delicacy, Shelton refrained from +looking. But presently Ferrand came back; the lady rose and left the +restaurant; she had been crying. The young foreigner was flushed, +his face contorted; he did not touch his wine. + +"I was right," he said; "she is the wife of an old friend. I used to +know her well." + +He was suffering from emotion, but someone less absorbed than Shelton +might have noticed a kind of relish in his voice, as though he were +savouring life's dishes, and glad to have something new, and spiced +with tragic sauce, to set before his patron. + +"You can find her story by the hundred in your streets, but nothing +hinders these paragons of virtue"--he nodded at the stream of +carriages--"from turning up their eyes when they see ladies of her +sort pass. She came to London--just three years ago. After a year +one of her little boys took fever--the shop was avoided--her husband +caught it, and died. There she was, left with two children and +everything gone to pay the debts. She tried to get work; no one +helped her. There was no money to pay anyone to stay with the +children; all the work she could get in the house was not enough to +keep them alive. She's not a strong woman. Well, she put the +children out to nurse, and went to the streets. The first week was +frightful, but now she's used to it--one gets used to anything." + +"Can nothing be done?" asked Shelton, startled. + +"No," returned his companion. "I know that sort; if they once take +to it all's over. They get used to luxury. One does n't part with +luxury, after tasting destitution. She tells me she does very +nicely; the children are happy; she's able to pay well and see them +sometimes. She was a girl of good family, too, who loved her +husband, and gave up much for him. What would you have? Three +quarters of your virtuous ladies placed in her position would do the +same if they had the necessary looks." + +It was evident that he felt the shock of this discovery, and Shelton +understood that personal acquaintance makes a difference, even in a +vagabond. + +"This is her beat," said the young foreigner, as they passed the +illuminated crescent, where nightly the shadows of hypocrites and +women fall; and Shelton went from these comments on Christianity to +the station of Charing Cross. There, as he stood waiting in the +shadow, his heart was in his mouth; and it struck him as odd that he +should have come to this meeting fresh from a vagabond's society. + +Presently, amongst the stream of travellers, he saw Antonia. She was +close to her mother, who was parleying with a footman; behind them +were a maid carrying a bandbox and a porter with the travelling-bags. +Antonia's figure, with its throat settled in the collar of her cape, +slender, tall, severe, looked impatient and remote amongst the +bustle. Her eyes, shadowed by the journey, glanced eagerly about, +welcoming all she saw; a wisp of hair was loose above her ear, her +cheeks glowed cold and rosy. She caught sight of Shelton, and +bending her neck, stag-like, stood looking at him; a brilliant smile +parted her lips, and Shelton trembled. Here was the embodiment of +all he had desired for weeks. He could not tell what was behind that +smile of hers--passionate aching or only some ideal, some chaste and +glacial intangibility. It seemed to be shining past him into the +gloomy station. There was no trembling and uncertainty, no rage of +possession in that brilliant smile; it had the gleam of fixedness, +like the smiling of a star. What did it matter? She was there, +beautiful as a young day, and smiling at him; and she was his, only +divided from him by a space of time. He took a step; her eyes fell +at once, her face regained aloofness; he saw her, encircled by +mother, footman, maid, and porter, take her seat and drive away. +It was over; she had seen him, she had smiled, but alongside his +delight lurked another feeling, and, by a bitter freak, not her face +came up before him but the face of that lady in the restaurant-- +short, round, and powdered, with black-circled eyes. What right had +we to scorn them? Had they mothers, footmen, porters, maids? He +shivered, but this time with physical disgust; the powdered face with +dark-fringed eyes had vanished; the fair, remote figure of the +railway-station came back again. + +He sat long over dinner, drinking, dreaming; he sat long after, +smoking, dreaming, and when at length he drove away, wine and dreams +fumed in his brain. The dance of lamps, the cream-cheese moon, the +rays of clean wet light on his horse's harness, the jingling of the +cab bell, the whirring wheels, the night air and the branches--it was +all so good! He threw back the hansom doors to feel the touch of the +warm breeze. The crowds on the pavement gave him strange delight; +they were like shadows, in some great illusion, happy shadows, +thronging, wheeling round the single figure of his world. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ROTTEN ROW + +With a headache and a sense of restlessness, hopeful and unhappy, +Shelton mounted his hack next morning for a gallop in the Park. + +In the sky was mingled all the languor and the violence of the +spring. The trees and flowers wore an awakened look in the gleams of +light that came stealing down from behind the purple of the clouds. +The air was rain-washed, and the passers by seemed to wear an air of +tranquil carelessness, as if anxiety were paralysed by their +responsibility of the firmament. + +Thronged by riders, the Row was all astir. + +Near to Hyde Park Corner a figure by the rails caught Shelton's eye. +Straight and thin, one shoulder humped a little, as if its owner were +reflecting, clothed in a frock-coat and a brown felt hat pinched up +in lawless fashion, this figure was so detached from its surroundings +that it would have been noticeable anywhere. It belonged to Ferrand, +obviously waiting till it was time to breakfast with his patron. +Shelton found pleasure in thus observing him unseen, and sat quietly +on his horse, hidden behind a tree. + +It was just at that spot where riders, unable to get further, are for +ever wheeling their horses for another turn; and there Ferrand, the +bird of passage, with his head a little to one side, watched them +cantering, trotting, wheeling up and down. + +Three men walking along the rails were snatching off their hats +before a horsewoman at exactly the same angle and with precisely the +same air, as though in the modish performance of this ancient rite +they were satisfying some instinct very dear to them. + +Shelton noted the curl of Ferrand's lip as he watched this sight. +"Many thanks, gentlemen," it seemed to say; "in that charming little +action you have shown me all your souls." + +What a singular gift the fellow had of divesting things and people of +their garments, of tearing away their veil of shams, and their +phylacteries! Shelton turned and cantered on; his thoughts were with +Antonia, and he did not want the glamour stripped away. + +He was glancing at the sky, that every moment threatened to discharge +a violent shower of rain, when suddenly he heard his name called from +behind, and who should ride up to him on either side but Bill Dennant +and--Antonia herself! + +They had been galloping; and she was flushed--flushed as when she +stood on the old tower at Hyeres, but with a joyful radiance +different from the calm and conquering radiance of that other moment. +To Shelton's delight they fell into line with him, and all three went +galloping along the strip between the trees and rails. The look she +gave him seemed to say, "I don't care if it is forbidden!" but she +did not speak. He could not take his eyes off her. How lovely she +looked, with the resolute curve of her figure, the glimpse of gold +under her hat, the glorious colour in her cheeks, as if she had been +kissed. + +"It 's so splendid to be at home! Let 's go faster, faster!" she +cried out. + +"Take a pull. We shall get run in," grumbled her brother, with a +chuckle. + +They reined in round the bend and jogged more soberly down on the far +side; still not a word from her to Shelton, and Shelton in his turn +spoke only to Bill Dennant. He was afraid to speak to her, for he +knew that her mind was dwelling on this chance forbidden meeting in a +way quite different from his own. + +Approaching Hyde Park Corner, where Ferrand was still standing +against the rails, Shelton, who had forgotten his existence, suffered +a shock when his eyes fell suddenly on that impassive figure. He was +about to raise his hand, when he saw that the young foreigner, noting +his instinctive feeling, had at once adapted himself to it. They +passed again without a greeting, unless that swift inquisition; +followed by unconsciousness in Ferrand's eyes, could so be called. +But the feeling of idiotic happiness left Shelton; he grew irritated +at this silence. It tantalised him more and more, for Bill Dennant +had lagged behind to chatter to a friend; Shelton and Antonia were +alone, walking their horses, without a word, not even looking at each +other. At one moment he thought of galloping ahead and leaving her, +then of breaking the vow of muteness she seemed to be imposing on +him, and he kept thinking: "It ought to be either one thing or the +other. I can't stand this." Her calmness was getting on his nerves; +she seemed to have determined just how far she meant to go, to have +fixed cold-bloodedly a limit. In her happy young beauty and radiant +coolness she summed up that sane consistent something existing in +nine out of ten of the people Shelton knew. "I can't stand it long," +he thought, and all of a sudden spoke; but as he did so she frowned +and cantered on. When he caught her she was smiling, lifting her +face to catch the raindrops which were falling fast. She gave him +just a nod, and waved her hand as a sign for him to go; and when he +would not, she frowned. He saw Bill Dennant, posting after them, +and, seized by a sense of the ridiculous, lifted his hat, and +galloped off. + +The rain was coming down in torrents now, and every one was scurrying +for shelter. He looked back from the bend, and could still make out +Antonia riding leisurely, her face upturned, and revelling in the +shower. Why had n't she either cut him altogether or taken the +sweets the gods had sent? It seemed wicked to have wasted such a +chance, and, ploughing back to Hyde Park Corner, he turned his head +to see if by any chance she had relented. + +His irritation was soon gone, but his longing stayed. Was ever +anything so beautiful as she had looked with her face turned to the +rain? She seemed to love the rain. It suited her--suited her ever +so much better than the sunshine of the South. Yes, she was very +English! Puzzling and fretting, he reached his rooms. Ferrand had +not arrived, in fact did not turn up that day. His non-appearance +afforded Shelton another proof of the delicacy that went hand in hand +with the young vagrant's cynicism. In the afternoon he received a +note. + +. . . You see, Dick [he read], I ought to have cut you; but I felt +too crazy--everything seems so jolly at home, even this stuffy old +London. Of course, I wanted to talk to you badly--there are heaps of +things one can't say by letter--but I should have been sorry +afterwards. I told mother. She said I was quite right, but I don't +think she took it in. Don't you feel that the only thing that really +matters is to have an ideal, and to keep it so safe that you can +always look forward and feel that you have been--I can't exactly +express my meaning. + +Shelton lit a cigarette and frowned. It seemed to him queer that she +should set more store by an "ideal" than by the fact that they had +met for the first and only time in many weeks. + +"I suppose she 's right," he thoughts--"I suppose she 's right. I +ought not to have tried to speak to her!" As a matter of fact, he +did not at all feel that she was right. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AN "AT HOME" + +On Tuesday morning he wandered off to Paddington, hoping for a chance +view of her on her way down to Holm Oaks; but the sense of the +ridiculous, on which he had been nurtured, was strong enough to keep +him from actually entering the station and lurking about until she +came. With a pang of disappointment he retraced his steps from Praed +Street to the Park, and once there tried no further to waylay her. +He paid a round of calls in the afternoon, mostly on her relations; +and, seeking out Aunt Charlotte, he dolorously related his encounter +in the Row. But she found it "rather nice," and on his pressing her +with his views, she murmured that it was "quite romantic, don't you +know." + +"Still, it's very hard," said Shelton; and he went away disconsolate. + +As he was dressing for dinner his eye fell on a card announcing the +"at home" of one of his own cousins. Her husband was a composer, and +he had a vague idea that he would find at the house of a composer +some quite unusually free kind of atmosphere. After dining at the +club, therefore, he set out for Chelsea. The party was held in a +large room on the ground-floor, which was already crowded with people +when Shelton entered. They stood or sat about in groups with smiles +fixed on their lips, and the light from balloon-like lamps fell in +patches on their heads and hands and shoulders. Someone had just +finished rendering on the piano a composition of his own. An expert +could at once have picked out from amongst the applauding company +those who were musicians by profession, for their eyes sparkled, and +a certain acidity pervaded their enthusiasm. This freemasonry of +professional intolerance flew from one to the other like a breath of +unanimity, and the faint shrugging of shoulders was as harmonious as +though one of the high windows had been opened suddenly, admitting a +draught of chill May air. + +Shelton made his way up to his cousin--a fragile, grey-haired woman +in black velvet and Venetian lace, whose starry eyes beamed at him, +until her duties, after the custom of these social gatherings, +obliged her to break off conversation just as it began to interest +him. He was passed on to another lady who was already talking to two +gentlemen, and, their volubility being greater than his own, he fell +into the position of observer. Instead of the profound questions he +had somehow expected to hear raised, everybody seemed gossiping, or +searching the heart of such topics as where to go this summer, or how +to get new servants. Trifling with coffee-cups, they dissected their +fellow artists in the same way as his society friends of the other +night had dissected the fellow--"smart"; and the varnish on the +floor, the pictures, and the piano were reflected on all the faces +around. Shelton moved from group to group disconsolate. + +A tall, imposing person stood under a Japanese print holding the palm +of one hand outspread; his unwieldy trunk and thin legs wobbled in +concert to his ingratiating voice. + +"War," he was saying, "is not necessary. War is not necessary. I +hope I make myself clear. War is not necessary; it depends on +nationality, but nationality is not necessary." He inclined his head +to one side, "Why do we have nationality? Let us do away with +boundaries--let us have the warfare of commerce. If I see France +looking at Brighton"--he laid his head upon one side, and beamed at +Shelton,--"what do I do? Do I say 'Hands off'? No. 'Take it,' +I say--take it!'" He archly smiled. "But do you think they would?" + +And the softness of his contours fascinated Shelton. + +"The soldier," the person underneath the print resumed, "is +necessarily on a lower plane--intellectually--oh, intellectually-- +than the philanthropist. His sufferings are less acute; he enjoys +the compensations of advertisement--you admit that?" he breathed +persuasively. "For instance--I am quite impersonal--I suffer; but do +I talk about it?" But, someone gazing at his well-filled waistcoat, +he put his thesis in another form: "I have one acre and one cow, my +brother has one acre and one cow: do I seek to take them away from +him?" + +Shelton hazarded, "Perhaps you 're weaker than your brother." + +"Come, come! Take the case of women: now, I consider our marriage +laws are barbarous." + +For the first time Shelton conceived respect for them; he made a +comprehensive gesture, and edged himself into the conversation of +another group, for fear of having all his prejudices overturned. +Here an Irish sculptor, standing in a curve, was saying furiously, +"Bees are not bhumpkins, d---n their sowls! "A Scotch painter, who +listened with a curly smile, seemed trying to compromise this +proposition, which appeared to have relation to the middle classes; +and though agreeing with the Irishman, Shelton felt nervous over his +discharge of electricity. Next to them two American ladies, +assembled under the tent of hair belonging to a writer of songs, were +discussing the emotions aroused in them by Wagner's operas. + +"They produce a strange condition of affairs in me," said the thinner +one. + +"They 're just divine," said the fatter. + +"I don't know if you can call the fleshly lusts divine," replied the +thinner, looking into the eyes of the writer of the songs. + +Amidst all the hum of voices and the fumes of smoke, a sense of +formality was haunting Shelton. Sandwiched between a Dutchman and a +Prussian poet, he could understand neither of his neighbours; so, +assuming an intelligent expression, he fell to thinking that an +assemblage of free spirits is as much bound by the convention of +exchanging their ideas as commonplace people are by the convention of +having no ideas to traffic in. He could not help wondering whether, +in the bulk, they were not just as dependent on each other as the +inhabitants of Kensington; whether, like locomotives, they could run +at all without these opportunities for blowing off the steam, and +what would be left when the steam had all escaped. Somebody ceased +playing the violin, and close to him a group began discussing ethics. +Aspirations were in the air all round, like a lot of hungry ghosts. +He realised that, if tongue be given to them, the flavour vanishes +from ideas which haunt the soul. + +Again the violinist played. + +"Cock gracious!" said the Prussian poet, falling into English as the +fiddle ceased: "Colossal! 'Aber, wie er ist grossartig'!" + +"Have you read that thing of Besom's?" asked shrill voice behind. + +"Oh, my dear fellow! too horrid for words; he ought to be hanged!" + +"The man's dreadful," pursued the voice, shriller than ever; "nothing +but a volcanic eruption would cure him." + +Shelton turned in alarm to look at the authors of these statements. +They were two men of letters talking of a third. + +"'C'est un grand naif, vous savez,'" said the second speaker. + +"These fellows don't exist," resumed the first; his small eyes +gleamed with a green light, his whole face had a look as if he gnawed +himself. Though not a man of letters, Shelton could not help +recognising from those eyes what joy it was to say those words: +"These fellows don't exist!" + +"Poor Besom! You know what Moulter said . . ." + +Shelton turned away, as if he had been too close to one whose hair +smelt of cantharides; and, looking round the room, he frowned. With +the exception of his cousin, he seemed the only person there of +English blood. Americans, Mesopotamians, Irish, Italians, Germans, +Scotch, and Russians. He was not contemptuous of them for being +foreigners; it was simply that God and the climate had made him +different by a skin or so. + +But at this point his conclusions were denied (as will sometimes +happen) by his introduction to an Englishman--a Major Somebody, who, +with smooth hair and blond moustache, neat eyes and neater clothes, +seemed a little anxious at his own presence there. Shelton took a +liking to him, partly from a fellow-feeling, and partly because of +the gentle smile with which he was looking at his wife. Almost +before he had said "How do you do?" he was plunged into a discussion +on imperialism. + +"Admitting all that," said Shelton, "what I hate is the humbug with +which we pride ourselves on benefiting the whole world by our so- +called civilising methods." + +The soldier turned his reasonable eyes. + +"But is it humbug?" + +Shelton saw his argument in peril. If we really thought it, was it +humbug? He replied, however: + +"Why should we, a small portion of the world's population, assume +that our standards are the proper ones for every kind of race? If +it 's not humbug, it 's sheer stupidity." + +The soldier, without taking his hands out of his pockets, but by a +forward movement of his face showing that he was both sincere and +just, re-replied: + +"Well, it must be a good sort of stupidity; it makes us the nation +that we are." + +Shelton felt dazed. The conversation buzzed around him; he heard the +smiling prophet saying, "Altruism, altruism," and in his voice a +something seemed to murmur, "Oh, I do so hope I make a good +impression!" + +He looked at the soldier's clear-cut head with its well-opened eyes, +the tiny crow's-feet at their corners, the conventional moustache; he +envied the certainty of the convictions lying under that well-parted +hair. + +"I would rather we were men first and then Englishmen," he muttered; +"I think it's all a sort of national illusion, and I can't stand +illusions." + +"If you come to that," said the soldier, "the world lives by +illusions. I mean, if you look at history, you'll see that the +creation of illusions has always been her business, don't you know." + +This Shelton was unable to deny. + +"So," continued the soldier (who was evidently a highly cultivated +man), "if you admit that movement, labour, progress, and all that +have been properly given to building up these illusions, that--er--in +fact, they're what you might call--er--the outcome of the world's +crescendo," he rushed his voice over this phrase as if ashamed of it +--"why do you want to destroy them?" + +Shelton thought a moment, then, squeezing his body with his folded +arms, replied: + +"The past has made us what we are, of course, and cannot be +destroyed; but how about the future? It 's surely time to let in +air. Cathedrals are very fine, and everybody likes the smell of +incense; but when they 've been for centuries without ventilation you +know what the atmosphere gets like." + +The soldier smiled. + +"By your own admission," he said, "you'll only be creating a fresh +set of illusions." + +"Yes," answered Shelton, "but at all events they'll be the honest +necessities of the present." + +The pupils of the soldier's eyes contracted; he evidently felt the +conversation slipping into generalities; he answered: + +"I can't see how thinking small beer of ourselves is going to do us +any good!" + +An "At Home!" + +Shelton felt in danger of being thought unpractical in giving vent to +the remark: + +"One must trust one's reason; I never can persuade myself that I +believe in what I don't." + +A minute later, with a cordial handshake, the soldier left, and +Shelton watched his courteous figure shepherding his wife away. + +"Dick, may I introduce you to Mr. Wilfrid Curly?" said his cousin's +voice behind, and he found his hand being diffidently shaken by a +fresh-cheeked youth with a dome-like forehead, who was saying +nervously: + +"How do you do? Yes, I am very well, thank you!" + +He now remembered that when he had first come in he had watched this +youth, who had been standing in a corner indulging himself in private +smiles. He had an uncommon look, as though he were in love with +life--as though he regarded it as a creature to whom one could put +questions to the very end--interesting, humorous, earnest questions. +He looked diffident, and amiable, and independent, and he, too, was +evidently English. + +"Are you good at argument?" said Shelton, at a loss for a remark. + +The youth smiled, blushed, and, putting back his hair, replied: + +"Yes--no--I don't know; I think my brain does n't work fast enough +for argument. You know how many motions of the brain-cells go to +each remark. It 's awfully interesting"; and, bending from the waist +in a mathematical position, he extended the palm of one hand, and +started to explain. + +Shelton stared at the youth's hand, at his frowns and the taps he +gave his forehead while he found the expression of his meaning; he +was intensely interested. The youth broke off, looked at his watch, +and, blushing brightly, said: + +"I 'm afraid I have to go; I have to be at the 'Den' before eleven." + +"I must be off, too," said Shelton. Making their adieux together, +they sought their hats and coats. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE NIGHT CLUB + +"May I ask," said Shelton, as he and the youth came out into the +chilly street, "What it is you call the 'Den'?" + +His companion smilingly answered: + +"Oh, the night club. We take it in turns. Thursday is my night. +Would you like to come? You see a lot of types. It's only round the +corner." + +Shelton digested a momentary doubt, and answered: + +"Yes, immensely." + +They reached the corner house in an angle of a, dismal street, +through the open door of which two men had just gone in. Following, +they ascended some wooden, fresh-washed stairs, and entered a large +boarded room smelling of sawdust, gas, stale coffee, and old clothes. +It was furnished with a bagatelle board, two or three wooden tables, +some wooden forms, and a wooden bookcase. Seated on these wooden +chairs, or standing up, were youths, and older men of the working +class, who seemed to Shelton to be peculiarly dejected. One was +reading, one against the wall was drinking coffee with a +disillusioned air, two were playing chess, and a group of four made a +ceaseless clatter with the bagatelle. + +A little man in a dark suit, with a pale face, thin lips, and deep- +set, black-encircled eyes, who was obviously in charge, came up with +an anaemic smile. + +"You 're rather late," he said to Curly, and, looking ascetically at +Shelton, asked, without waiting for an introduction: "Do you play +chess? There 's young Smith wants a game." + +A youth with a wooden face, already seated before a fly-blown chess- +board, asked him drearily if he would have black or white. Shelton +took white; he was oppressed by the virtuous odour of this room. + +The little man with the deep blue eyes came up, stood in an uneasy +attitude, and watched: + +"Your play's improving, young Smith," he said; "I should think you'd +be able to give Banks a knight." His eyes rested on Shelton, +fanatical and dreary; his monotonous voice was suffering and nasal; +he was continually sucking in his lips, as though determined to +subdue 'the flesh. "You should come here often," he said to Shelton, +as the latter received checkmate; "you 'd get some good practice. +We've several very fair players. You're not as good as Jones or +Bartholomew," he added to Shelton's opponent, as though he felt it a +duty to put the latter in his place. "You ought to come here often," +he repeated to Shelton; "we have a lot of very good young fellows"; +and, with a touch of complacence, he glanced around the dismal room. +"There are not so many here tonight as usual. Where are Toombs and +Body?" + +Shelton, too, looked anxiously around. He could not help feeling +sympathy with Toombs and Body. + +"They 're getting slack, I'm afraid," said the little deep-eyed man. +"Our principle is to amuse everyone. Excuse me a minute; I see that +Carpenter is doing nothing." He crossed over to the man who had been +drinking coffee, but Shelton had barely time to glance at his +opponent and try to think of a remark, before the little man was +back. "Do you know anything about astronomy?" he asked of Shelton. +"We have several very interested in astronomy; if you could talk to +them a little it would help." + +Shelton made a motion of alarm. + +"Please-no," said he; "I---" + +"I wish you'd come sometimes on Wednesdays; we have most interesting +talks, and a service afterwards. We're always anxious to get new +blood"; and his eyes searched Shelton's brown, rather tough-looking +face, as though trying to see how much blood there was in it. "Young +Curly says you 've just been around the world; you could describe +your travels." + +"May I ask," said Shelton, "how your club is made up?" + +Again a look of complacency, and blessed assuagement, visited the +little man. + +"Oh," he said, "we take anybody, unless there 's anything against +them. The Day Society sees to that. Of course, we shouldn't take +anyone if they were to report against them. You ought to come to our +committee meetings; they're on Mondays at seven. The women's side, +too---" + +"Thank you," said Shelton; "you 're very kind---" + +"We should be pleased," said the little man; and his face seemed to +suffer more than ever. "They 're mostly young fellows here to-night, +but we have married men, too. Of course, we 're very careful about +that," he added hastily, as though he might have injured Shelton's +prejudices--"that, and drink, and anything criminal, you know." + +"And do you give pecuniary assistance, too?" + +"Oh yes," replied the little man; "if you were to come to our +committee meetings you would see for yourself. Everything is most +carefully gone into; we endeavour to sift the wheat from the chaff." + +"I suppose," said Shelton, "you find a great deal of chaff?" + +The little man smiled a suffering smile. The twang of his toneless +voice sounded a trifle shriller. + +"I was obliged to refuse a man to-day--a man and a woman, quite young +people, with three small children. He was ill and out of work; but +on inquiry we found that they were not man and wife." + +There was a slight pause; the little man's eyes were fastened on his +nails, and, with an appearance of enjoyment, he began to bite them. +Shelton's face had grown a trifle red. + +"And what becomes of the woman and the children in a case like that?" +he said. + +The little man's eyes began to smoulder. + +"We make a point of not encouraging sin, of course. Excuse me a +minute; I see they've finished bagatelle." + +He hurried off, and in a moment the clack of bagatelle began again. +He himself was playing with a cold and spurious energy, running after +the balls and exhorting the other players, upon whom a wooden +acquiescence seemed to fall. + +Shelton crossed the room, and went up to young Curly. He was sitting +on a bench, smiling to himself his private smiles. + +"Are you staying here much longer?" Shelton asked. + +Young Curly rose with nervous haste. + +"I 'm afraid," he said, "there 's nobody very interesting here to- +night." + +"Oh, not at all!" said Shelton; "on the contrary. Only I 've had a +rather tiring day, and somehow I don't feel up to the standard here." + +His new acquaintance smiled. + +"Oh, really! do you think--that is--" + +But he had not time to finish before the clack of bagatelle balls +ceased, and the voice of the little deep-eyed man was heard saying: +"Anybody who wants a book will put his name down. There will be the +usual prayer-meeting on Wednesday next. Will you all go quietly? +I am going to turn the lights out." + +One gas-jet vanished, and the remaining jet flared suddenly. By its +harder glare the wooden room looked harder too, and disenchanting. +The figures of its occupants began filing through the door. The +little man was left in the centre of the room, his deep eyes +smouldering upon the backs of the retreating members, his thumb and +finger raised to the turncock of the metre. + +"Do you know this part?" asked young Curly as they emerged into the +street. "It 's really jolly; one of the darkest bits in London--it +is really. If you care, I can take you through an awfully dangerous +place where the police never go." He seemed so anxious for the +honour that Shelton was loath to disappoint him. "I come here pretty +often," he went on, as they ascended a sort of alley rambling darkly +between a wall and row of houses. + +"Why?" asked Shelton; "it does n't smell too nice." + +The young man threw up his nose and sniffed, as if eager to add any +new scent that might be about to his knowledge of life. + +"No, that's one of the reasons, you know," he said; "one must find +out. The darkness is jolly, too; anything might happen here. Last +week there was a murder; there 's always the chance of one." + +Shelton stared; but the charge of morbidness would not lie against +this fresh-cheeked stripling. + +"There's a splendid drain just here," his guide resumed; "the people +are dying like flies of typhoid in those three houses"; and under the +first light he turned his grave, cherubic face to indicate the +houses. "If we were in the East End, I could show you other places +quite as good. There's a coffee-stall keeper in one that knows all +the thieves in London; he 's a splendid type, but," he added, looking +a little anxiously at Shelton, "it might n't be safe for you. With +me it's different; they 're beginning to know me. I've nothing to +take, you see." + +"I'm afraid it can't be to-night," said Shelton; "I must get back." + +"Do you mind if I walk with you? It's so jolly now the stars are +out." + +"Delighted," said Shelton; "do you often go to that club?" + +His companion raised his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair. + +"They 're rather too high-class for me," he said. "I like to go +where you can see people eat--school treats, or somewhere in the +country. It does one good to see them eat. They don't get enough, +you see, as a rule, to make bone; it's all used up for brain and +muscle. There are some places in the winter where they give them +bread and cocoa; I like to go to those." + +"I went once," said Shelton, "but I felt ashamed for putting my nose +in." + +"Oh, they don't mind; most of them are half-dead with cold, you know. +You see splendid types; lots of dipsomaniacs . . . . It 's useful +to me," he went on as they passed a police-station, "to walk about at +night; one can take so much more notice. I had a jolly night last +week in Hyde Park; a chance to study human nature there." + +"And do you find it interesting?" asked Shelton. + +His companion smiled. + +"Awfully," he replied; "I saw a fellow pick three pockets." + +" What did you do?" + +"I had a jolly talk with him." + +Shelton thought of the little deep-eyed man; who made a point of not +encouraging sin. + +"He was one of the professionals from Notting Hill, you know; told me +his life. Never had a chance, of course. The most interesting part +was telling him I 'd seen him pick three pockets--like creeping into +a cave, when you can't tell what 's inside." + +"Well?" + +"He showed me what he 'd got--only fivepence halfpenny." + +"And what became of your friend?" asked Shelton. + +"Oh, went off; he had a splendidly low forehead." + +They had reached Shelton's rooms. + +"Will you come in," said the latter, "and have a drink?" + +The youth smiled, blushed, and shook his head. + +"No, thank you," he said; "I have to walk to Whitechapel. I 'm +living on porridge now; splendid stuff for making bone. I generally +live on porridge for a week at the end of every month. It 's the +best diet if you're hard up"; once more blushing and smiling, he was +gone. + +Shelton went upstairs and sat down on his bed. He felt a little +miserable. Sitting there, slowly pulling out the ends of his white +tie, disconsolate, he had a vision of Antonia with her gaze fixed +wonderingly on him. And this wonder of hers came as a revelation-- +just as that morning, when, looking from his window, he had seen a +passer-by stop suddenly and scratch his leg; and it had come upon him +in a flash that that man had thoughts and feelings of his own. He +would never know what Antonia really felt and thought. "Till I saw +her at the station, I did n't know how much I loved her or how little +I knew her"; and, sighing deeply, he hurried into bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +POLE TO POLE + +The waiting in London for July to come was daily more unbearable to +Shelton, and if it had not been for Ferrand, who still came to +breakfast, he would have deserted the Metropolis. On June first the +latter presented himself rather later than was his custom, and +announced that, through a friend, he had heard of a position as +interpreter to an hotel at Folkestone. + +"If I had money to face the first necessities, he said, swiftly +turning over a collection of smeared papers with his yellow fingers, +as if searching for his own identity, "I 'd leave today. This London +blackens my spirit." + +"Are you certain to get this place," asked Shelton. + +"I think so," the young foreigner replied; "I 've got some good +enough recommendations." + +Shelton could not help a dubious glance at the papers in his hand. A +hurt look passed on to Ferrand's curly lips beneath his nascent red +moustache. + +"You mean that to have false papers is as bad as theft. No, no; I +shall never be a thief--I 've had too many opportunities," said he, +with pride and bitterness. "That's not in my character. I never do +harm to anyone. This"--he touched the papers--"is not delicate, but +it does harm to no one. If you have no money you must have papers; +they stand between you and starvation. Society, has an excellent eye +for the helpless--it never treads on people unless they 're really +down." He looked at Shelton. + +"You 've made me what I am, amongst you," he seemed to say; "now put +up with me!" + +"But there are always the workhouses," Shelton remarked at last. + +"Workhouses!" returned Ferrand; "certainly there are--regular +palaces: I will tell you one thing: I've never been in places so +discouraging as your workhouses; they take one's very heart out." + +"I always understood," said Shelton coldly; "that our system was +better than that of other countries." + +Ferrand leaned over in his chair, an elbow on his knee, his favourite +attitude when particularly certain of his point. + +"Well," he replied, "it 's always permissible to think well of your own +country. But, frankly, I've come out of those places here with +little strength and no heart at all, and I can tell you why." His +lips lost their bitterness, and he became an artist expressing the +result of his experience. "You spend your money freely, you have +fine buildings, self-respecting officers, but you lack the spirit of +hospitality. The reason is plain; you have a horror of the needy. +You invite us--and when we come you treat us justly enough, but as if +we were numbers, criminals, beneath contempt--as if we had inflicted +a personal injury on you; and when we get out again, we are naturally +degraded." + +Shelton bit his lips. + +"How much money will you want for your ticket, and to make a start?" +he asked. + +The nervous gesture escaping Ferrand at this juncture betrayed how +far the most independent thinkers are dependent when they have no +money in their pockets. He took the note that Shelton proffered him. + +"A thousand thanks," said he; "I shall never forget what you have +done for me"; and Shelton could not help feeling that there was true +emotion behind his titter of farewell. + +He stood at the window watching Ferrand start into the world again; +then looked back at his own comfortable room, with the number of +things that had accumulated somehow--the photographs of countless +friends, the old arm-chairs, the stock of coloured pipes. Into him +restlessness had passed with the farewell clasp of the foreigner's +damp hand. To wait about in London was unbearable. + +He took his hat, and, heedless of direction, walked towards the +river. It was a clear, bright day, with a bleak wind driving showers +before it. During one of such Shelton found himself in Little Blank +Street. "I wonder how that little Frenchman that I saw is getting +on!" he thought. On a fine day he would probably have passed by on +the other side; he now entered and tapped upon the wicket. + +No. 3 Little Blank Street had abated nothing of its stone-flagged +dreariness; the same blowsy woman answered his inquiry. Yes, Carolan +was always in; you could never catch him out--seemed afraid to go +into the street! To her call the little Frenchman made his +appearance as punctually as if he had been the rabbit of a conjurer. +His face was as yellow as a guinea. + +"Ah! it's you, monsieur!" he said. + +"Yes," said Shelton; "and how are you?" + +"It 's five days since I came out of hospital," muttered the little +Frenchman, tapping on his chest; "a crisis of this bad atmosphere. +I live here, shut up in a box; it does me harm, being from the South. +If there's anything I can do for you, monsieur, it will give me +pleasure." + +"Nothing," replied Shelton, "I was just passing, and thought I should +like to hear how you were getting on." + +"Come into the kitchen,--monsieur, there is nobody in there. 'Brr! +Il fait un froid etonnant'!" + +"What sort of customers have you just now?" asked Shelton, as they +passed into the kitchen. + +"Always the same clientele," replied the little man; "not so +numerous, of course, it being summer." + +"Could n't you find anything better than this to do?" + +The barber's crow's-feet radiated irony. + +"When I first came to London," said he, "I secured an engagement at +one of your public institutions. I thought my fortune made. +Imagine, monsieur, in that sacred place I was obliged to shave at the +rate of ten a penny! Here, it's true, they don't pay me half the +time; but when I'm paid, I 'm paid. In this, climate, and being +'poitrinaire', one doesn't make experiments. I shall finish my days +here. Have you seen that young man who interested you? There 's +another! He has spirit, as I had once--'il fait de la philosophie', +as I do--and you will see, monsieur, it will finish him. In this +world what you want is to have no spirit. Spirit ruins you." + +Shelton looked sideways at the little man with his sardonic, yellow, +half-dead face, and the incongruity of the word "spirit" in his mouth +struck him so sharply that he smiled a smile with more pity in it +than any burst of tears. + +"Shall we 'sit down?" he said, offering a cigarette. + +"Merci, monsieur, it is always a pleasure to smoke a good cigarette. +You remember, that old actor who gave you a Jeremiad? Well, he's +dead. I was the only one at his bedside; 'un vrai drole'. He was +another who had spirit. And you will see, monsieur, that young man +in whom you take an interest, he'll die in a hospital, or in some. +hole or other, or even on the highroad; having closed his eyes once +too often some cold night; and all because he has something in him +which will not accept things as they are, believing always that they +should be better. 'Il n'y a riens de plus tragique'!" + +"According to you, then," said Shelton--and the conversation seemed +to him of a sudden to have taken too personal a turn--"rebellion of +any sort is fatal." + +"Ah!" replied the little man, with the eagerness of one whose ideal +it is to sit under the awning of a cafe‚ and talk life upside down, +"you pose me a great problem there! If one makes rebellion; it is +always probable that one will do no good to any one and harm one's +self. The law of the majority arranges that. But I would draw your +attention to this"--and he paused; as if it were a real discovery to +blow smoke through his nose--"if you rebel it is in all likelihood +because you are forced by your nature to rebel; this is one of the +most certain things in life. In any case, it is necessary to avoid +falling between two stools--which is unpardonable," he ended with +complacence. + +Shelton thought he had never seen a man who looked more completely as +if he had fallen between two stools, and he had inspiration enough to +feel that the little barber's intellectual rebellion and the action +logically required by it had no more than a bowing acquaintanceship. + +"By nature," went on the little man, "I am an optimist; it is in +consequence of this that I now make pessimism. I have always had +ideals; seeing myself cut off from them for ever, I must complain; to +complain, monsieur, is very sweet!" + +Shelton wondered what these ideals had been, but had no answer ready; +so he nodded, and again held out his cigarettes, for, like a true +Southerner, the little man had thrown the first away, half smoked. + +"The greatest pleasure in life," continued the Frenchman, with a bow, +"is to talk a little to a being who is capable of understanding you. +At present we have no one here, now that that old actor's dead. Ah! +there was a man who was rebellion incarnate! He made rebellion as +other men make money, 'c'etait son metier'; when he was no longer +capable of active revolution, he made it getting drunk. At the last +this was his only way of protesting against Society. An interesting +personality, 'je le regrette beaucoup'. But, as you see, he died in +great distress, without a soul to wave him farewell, because as you +can well understand, monsieur, I don't count myself. He died drunk. +'C'etait un homme'!" + +Shelton had continued staring kindly at the little man; the barber +added hastily: + +"It's difficult to make an end like that one has moments of +weakness." + +"Yes," assented Shelton, "one has indeed." + +The little barber looked at him with cynical discretion. + +"Oh!" he said, "it 's to the destitute that such things are +important. When one has money, all these matters---" + +He shrugged his shoulders. A smile had lodged amongst his crow's- +feet; he waved his hand as though to end the subject. + +A sense of having been exposed came over Shelton. + +"You think, then," said he, "that discontent is peculiar to the +destitute?" + +"Monsieur," replied the little barber, "a plutocrat knows too well +that if he mixes in that 'galere' there 's not a dog in the streets +more lost than he." + +Shelton rose. + +"The rain is over. I hope you 'll soon be better; perhaps you 'll +accept this in memory of that old actor," and he slipped a sovereign +into the little Frenchman's hand. + +The latter bowed. + +"Whenever you are passing, monsieur," he said eagerly, "I shall be +charmed to see you." + +And Shelton walked away. "'Not a dog in the streets more lost,'" +thought he; "now what did he mean by that?" + +Something of that "lost dog" feeling had gripped his spirit. Another +month of waiting would kill all the savour of anticipation, might +even kill his love. In the excitement of his senses and his nerves, +caused by this strain of waiting, everything seemed too vivid; all +was beyond life size; like Art--whose truths; too strong for daily +use, are thus, unpopular with healthy people. As will the, bones in +a worn face, the spirit underlying things had reached the surface; +the meanness and intolerable measure of hard facts, were too +apparent. Some craving for help, some instinct, drove him into +Kensington, for he found himself before his, mother's house. +Providence seemed bent on flinging him from pole to pole. + +Mrs. Shelton was in town; and, though it was the first of June, sat +warming her feet before a fire; her face, with its pleasant colour, +was crow's-footed like the little barber's, but from optimism, not +rebellion. She, smiled when she saw her son; and the wrinkles round +her eyes twinkled, with vitality. + +"Well, my dear boy," she said, "it's lovely to see you. And how is +that sweet girl?" + +"Very well, thank you," replied Shelton. + +"She must be such a dear!" + +"Mother," stammered Shelton, "I must give it up." + +"Give it up? My dear Dick, give what up? You look quite worried. +Come and sit down, and have a cosy chat. Cheer up!" And Mrs. +Shelton; with her head askew, gazed at her son quite irrepressibly. + +Mother," said Shelton, who, confronted by her optimism, had never, +since his time of trial began, felt so wretchedly dejected, "I can't +go on waiting about like this." + +"My dear boy, what is the matter?"; + +"Everything is wrong! + +"Wrong?" cried Mrs. Shelton. "Come, tell me all, about it!" + +But Shelton, shook his head. + +"You surely have not had a quarrel----" + +Mrs. Shelton stopped; the question seemed so vulgar--one might have +asked it of a groom. + +"No," said Shelton, and his answer sounded like a groan. + +"You know, my dear old Dick," murmured his mother, "it seems a little +mad." + +"I know it seems mad." + +"Come!" said Mrs. Shelton, taking his hand between her own; "you +never used to be like this." + +"No," said Shelton, with a laugh; "I never used to be like this." + +Mrs. Shelton snuggled in her Chuda shawl. + +"Oh," she said, with cheery sympathy, "I know exactly how you feel!" + +Shelton, holding his head, stared at the fire, which played and +bubbled like his mother's face. + +"But you're so fond of each other," she began again. "Such a sweet +girl!" + +"You don't understand," muttered Shelton gloomily; "it 's not her-- +it's nothing--it's--myself!" + +Mrs. Shelton again seized his hand, and this time pressed it to her +soft, warm cheek, that had lost the elasticity of youth. + +"Oh!" she cried again; "I understand. I know exactly what you 're +feeling." But Shelton saw from the fixed beam in her eyes that she +had not an inkling. To do him justice, he was not so foolish as to +try to give her one. Mrs. Shelton sighed. "It would be so lovely if +you could wake up +to-morrow and think differently. If I were you, my dear, I would +have a good long walk, and then a Turkish bath; and then I would just +write to her, and tell her all about it, and you'll see how +beautifully it'll all come straight"; and in the enthusiasm of advice +Mrs. Shelton rose, and, with a faint stretch of her tiny figure, +still so young, clasped her hands together. "Now do, that 's a dear +old Dick! You 'll just see how lovely it'll be!" Shelton smiled; he +had not the heart to chase away this vision. "And give her my +warmest love, and tell her I 'm longing for the wedding. Come, now, +my dear boy, promise me that's what you 'll do." + +And Shelton said: "I'll think about it." + +Mrs. Shelton had taken up her stand with one foot on the fender, in +spite of her sciatica. + +"Cheer up!" she cried; her eyes beamed as if intoxicated by her +sympathy. + +Wonderful woman! The uncomplicated optimism that carried her through +good and ill had not descended to her son. + +>From pole to pole he had been thrown that day, from the French +barber, whose intellect accepted nothing without carping, and whose +little fingers worked all day, to save himself from dying out, to his +own mother, whose intellect accepted anything presented with +sufficient glow, but who, until she died, would never stir a finger. +When Shelton reached his rooms, he wrote to Antonia: + +I can't wait about in London any longer; I am going down to Bideford +to start a walking tour. I shall work my way to Oxford, and stay +there till I may come to Holm Oaks. I shall send you my address; do +write as usual. + +He collected all the photographs he had of her--amateur groups, taken +by Mrs. Dennant--and packed them in the pocket of his shooting- +jacket. There was one where she was standing just below her little +brother, who was perched upon a wall. In her half-closed eyes, round +throat, and softly tilted chin, there was something cool and +watchful, protecting the ragamuffin up above her head. This he kept +apart to be looked at daily, as a man says his prayers. + + + + + + +PART II + +THE COUNTRY + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE INDIAN CIVILIAN + +One morning then, a week later, Shelton found himself at the walls of +Princetown Prison. + +He had seen this lugubrious stone cage before. But the magic of his +morning walk across the moor, the sight of the pagan tors, the songs +of the last cuckoo, had unprepared him for that dreary building. He +left the street, and, entering the fosse, began a circuit, scanning +the walls with morbid fascination. + +This, then, was the system by which men enforced the will of the +majority, and it was suddenly borne in on him that all the ideas and +maxims which his Christian countrymen believed themselves to be +fulfilling daily were stultified in every cellule of the social +honeycomb. Such teachings as "He that is without sin amongst you" +had been pronounced unpractical by peers and judges, bishops, +statesmen, merchants, husbands--in fact, by every truly Christian +person in the country. + +"Yes," thought Shelton, as if he had found out something new, "the +more Christian the nation, the less it has to do with the Christian +spirit." + +Society was a charitable organisation, giving nothing for nothing, +little for sixpence; and it was only fear that forced it to give at +all! + +He took a seat on a wall, and began to watch a warder who was slowly +paring a last year's apple. The expression of his face, the way he +stood with his solid legs apart, his head poked forward and his lower +jaw thrust out, all made him a perfect pillar of Society. He was +undisturbed by Shelton's scrutiny, watching the rind coil down below +the apple; until in a springing spiral it fell on the path and +collapsed like a toy snake. He took a bite; his teeth were jagged; +and his mouth immense. It was obvious that he considered himself a +most superior man. Shelton frowned, got down slowly, from the wall, +and proceeded on his way. + +A little further down the hill he stopped again to watch a group of +convicts in a field. They seemed to be dancing in a slow and sad +cotillon, while behind the hedge on every side were warders armed +with guns. Just such a sight, substituting spears could have been +seen in Roman times. + +While he thus stood looking, a man, walking, rapidly, stopped beside +him, and asked how many miles it was to Exeter. His round visage; +and long, brown eyes, sliding about beneath their, brows, his cropped +hair and short neck, seemed familiar. + +"Your name is Crocker, is n't it?" + +"Why! it's the Bird!" exclaimed the traveller; putting out his +hand. "Have n't seen you since we both went down." + +Shelton returned his handgrip. Crocker had lived above his head at +college, and often kept him, sleepless half the night by playing on +the hautboy. + +"Where have you sprung from?" + +"India. Got my long leave. I say, are you going this way? Let's go +together." + +They went, and very fast; faster and faster every minute. + +"Where are you going at this pace?" asked Shelton. + +"London." + +"Oh! only as far as London?" + +"I 've set myself to do it in a week." + +"Are you in training?" + +"No." + +"You 'll kill yourself." + +Crocker answered with a chuckle. + +Shelton noted with alarm the expression of his eye; there was a sort +of stubborn aspiration in it. "Still an idealist!" he thought; +"poor fellow!" "Well," he inquired, "what sort of a time have you +had in India?" + +"Oh," said the Indian civilian absently, "I've, had the plague." + +"Good God!" + +Crocker smiled, and added: + +"Caught it on famine duty." + +"I see," said Shelton; "plague and famine! I suppose you fellows +really think you 're doing good out there?" + +His companion looked at him surprised, then answered modestly: + +"We get very good screws." + +"That 's the great thing," responded Shelton. + +After a moment's silence, Crocker, looking straight before him, +asked: + +"Don't you think we are doing good?" + +"I 'm not an authority; but, as a matter of fact, I don't." + +Crocker seemed disconcerted. + +"Why?" he bluntly asked. + +Shelton was not anxious to explain his views, and he did not reply. + +His friend repeated: + +"Why don't you think we're doing good in India?" + +"Well," said Shelton gruffly, "how can progress be imposed on +nations from outside?" + +The Indian civilian, glancing at Shelton in an affectionate and +doubtful way, replied: + +"You have n't changed a bit, old chap." + +"No, no," said Shelton; "you 're not going to get out of it that way. +Give me a single example of a nation, or an individual, for that +matter, who 's ever done any good without having worked up to it from +within." + +Crocker, grunting, muttered, "Evils." + +"That 's it," said Shelton; "we take peoples entirely different from +our own, and stop their natural development by substituting a +civilisation grown for our own use. Suppose, looking at a tropical +fern in a hothouse, you were to say: 'This heat 's unhealthy for me; +therefore it must be bad for the fern, I 'll take it up and plant it +outside in the fresh air.'" + +"Do you know that means giving up India?" said the Indian civilian +shrewdly. + +"I don't say that; but to talk about doing good to India is--h'm!" + +Crocker knitted his brows, trying to see the point of view his friend +was showing him. + +"Come, now! Should we go on administering India if it were dead +loss? No. Well, to talk about administering the country for the +purpose of pocketing money is cynical, and there 's generally some +truth in cynicism; but to talk about the administration of a country +by which we profit, as if it were a great and good thing, is cant. +I hit you in the wind for the benefit of myself--all right: law of +nature; but to say it does you good at the same time is beyond me." + +"No, no," returned Crocker, grave and anxious; "you can't persuade me +that we 're not doing good." + +"Wait a bit. It's all a question of horizons; you look at it from +too close. Put the horizon further back. You hit India in the wind, +and say it's virtuous. Well, now let's see what happens. Either the +wind never comes back, and India gasps to an untimely death, or the +wind does come back, and in the pant of reaction your blow--that's to +say your labour--is lost, morally lost labour that you might have +spent where it would n't have been lost." + +"Are n't you an Imperialist?" asked Crocker, genuinely concerned. + +"I may be, but I keep my mouth shut about the benefits we 're +conferring upon other people." + +"Then you can't believe in abstract right, or justice?" + +"What on earth have our ideas of justice or right got to do with +India?" + +"If I thought as you do," sighed the unhappy Crocker, "I should be +all adrift." + +"Quite so. We always think our standards best for the whole world. +It's a capital belief for us. Read the speeches of our public men. +Does n't it strike you as amazing how sure they are of being in the +right? It's so charming to benefit yourself and others at the same +time, though, when you come to think of it, one man's meat is usually +another's poison. Look at nature. But in England we never look at +nature--there's no necessity. Our national point of view has filled +our pockets, that's all that matters." + +"I say, old chap, that's awfully bitter," said Crocker, with a sort +of wondering sadness. + +"It 's enough to make any one bitter the way we Pharisees wax fat, +and at the same time give ourselves the moral airs of a balloon. +I must stick a pin in sometimes, just to hear the gas escape." +Shelton was surprised at his own heat, and for some strange reason +thought of Antonia--surely, she was not a Pharisee. + +His companion strode along, and Shelton felt sorry for the signs of +trouble on his face. + +"To fill your pockets," said Crocker, "is n't the main thing. One +has just got to do things without thinking of why we do them." + +"Do you ever see the other side to any question?" asked Shelton. +"I suppose not. You always begin to act before you stop thinking, +don't you?" + +Crocker grinned. + +"He's a Pharisee, too," thought Shelton, "without a Pharisee's pride. +Queer thing that!" + +After walking some distance, as if thinking deeply, Crocker chuckled +out: + +"You 're not consistent; you ought to be in favour of giving up +India." + +Shelton smiled uneasily. + +"Why should n't we fill our pockets? I only object to the humbug +that we talk." + +The Indian civilian put his hand shyly through his arm. + +"If I thought like you," he said, "I could n't stay another day in +India." + +And to this Shelton made no reply. + +The wind had now begun to drop, and something of the morning's magic +was stealing again upon the moor. They were nearing the outskirt +fields of cultivation. It was past five when, dropping from the +level of the tors, they came into the sunny vale of Monkland. + +"They say," said Crocker, reading from his guide-book--"they say this +place occupies a position of unique isolation." + +The two travellers, in tranquil solitude, took their seats under an +old lime-tree on the village green. The smoke of their pipes, the +sleepy air, the warmth from the baked ground, the constant hum, made +Shelton drowsy. + +"Do you remember," his companion asked, "those 'jaws' you used to +have with Busgate and old Halidome in my rooms on Sunday evenings? +How is old Halidome?" + +"Married," replied Shelton. + +Crocker sighed. "And are you?" he asked. + +"Not yet," said Shelton grimly; "I 'm--engaged." + +Crocker took hold of his arm above the elbow, and, squeezing it, he +grunted. Shelton had not received congratulations that pleased him +more; there was the spice of envy in them. + +"I should like to get married while I 'm home," said the civilian +after a long pause. His legs were stretched apart, throwing shadows +on the green, his hands deep thrust into his pockets, his head a +little to one side. An absent-minded smile played round his mouth. + +The sun had sunk behind a tor, but the warmth kept rising from the +ground, and the sweet-briar on a cottage bathed them with its spicy +perfume. From the converging lanes figures passed now and then, +lounged by, staring at the strangers, gossiping amongst themselves, +and vanished into the cottages that headed the incline. A clock +struck seven, and round the shady lime-tree a chafer or some heavy +insect commenced its booming rushes. All was marvellously sane and +slumbrous. The soft air, the drawling voices, the shapes and +murmurs, the rising smell of wood-smoke from fresh-kindled fires-- +were full of the spirit of security and of home. The outside world +was far indeed. Typical of some island nation was this nest of +refuge--where men grew quietly tall, fattened, and without fuss +dropped off their perches; where contentment flourished, as +sunflowers flourished in the sun. + +Crocker's cap slipped off; he was nodding, and Shelton looked at him. +>From a manor house in some such village he had issued; to one of a +thousand such homes he would find his way at last, untouched by the +struggles with famines or with plagues, uninfected in his fibre, his +prejudices, and his principles, unchanged by contact with strange +peoples, new conditions, odd feelings, or queer points of view! + +The chafer buzzed against his shoulder, gathered flight again, and +boomed away. Crocker roused himself, and, turning his amiable face, +jogged Shelton's arm. + +"What are you thinking about, Bird?" he asked. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A PARSON + +Shelton continued to travel with his college friend, and on Wednesday +night, four days after joining company, they reached the village of +Dowdenhame. All day long the road had lain through pastureland, with +thick green hedges and heavily feathered elms. Once or twice they +had broken the monotony by a stretch along the towing-path of a +canal, which, choked with water-lily plants and shining weeds, +brooded sluggishly beside the fields. Nature, in one of her ironic +moods, had cast a grey and iron-hard cloak over all the country's +bland luxuriance. From dawn till darkness fell there had been no +movement in the steely distant sky; a cold wind ruffed in the hedge- +tops, and sent shivers through the branches of the elms. The cattle, +dappled, pied, or bay, or white, continued grazing with an air of +grumbling at their birthright. In a meadow close to the canal +Shelton saw five magpies, and about five o'clock the rain began, a +steady, coldly-sneering rain, which Crocker, looking at the sky, +declared was going to be over in a minute. But it was not over in a +minute; they were soon drenched. Shelton was tired, and it annoyed +him very much that his companion, who was also tired, should grow +more cheerful. His thoughts kept harping upon Ferrand: "This must be +something like what he described to me, tramping on and on when +you're dead-beat, until you can cadge up supper and a bed." And +sulkily he kept on ploughing through the mud with glances at the +exasperating Crocker, who had skinned one heel and was limping +horribly. It suddenly came home to him that life for three quarters +of the world meant physical exhaustion every day, without a +possibility of alternative, and that as soon as, for some cause +beyond control, they failed thus to exhaust themselves, they were +reduced to beg or starve. "And then we, who don't know the meaning +of the word exhaustion, call them 'idle scamps,'" he said aloud. + +It was past nine and dark when they reached Dowdenhame. The street +yielded no accommodation, and while debating where to go they passed +the church, with a square tower, and next to it a house which was +certainly the parsonage. + +"Suppose," said Crocker, leaning on his arms upon the gate, "we ask +him where to go"; and, without waiting for Shelton's answer, he rang +the bell. + +The door was opened by the parson, a bloodless and clean-shaven man, +whose hollow cheeks and bony hands suggested a perpetual struggle. +Ascetically benevolent were his grey eyes; a pale and ghostly smile +played on the curves of his thin lips. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked. "Inn? yes, there's the Blue +Chequers, but I 'm afraid you 'll find it shut. They 're early +people, I 'm glad to say"; and his eyes seemed to muse over the +proper fold for these damp sheep. "Are you Oxford men, by any +chance?" he asked, as if that might throw some light upon the matter. +"Of Mary's? Really! I'm of Paul's myself. Ladyman--Billington +Ladyman; you might remember my youngest brother. I could give you a +room here if you could manage without sheets. My housekeeper has two +days' holiday; she's foolishly taken the keys." + +Shelton accepted gladly, feeling that the intonation in the parson's +voice was necessary unto his calling, and that he did not want to +patronise. + +"You 're hungry, I expect, after your tramp. I'm very much afraid +there 's--er--nothing in the house but bread; I could boil you water; +hot lemonade is better than nothing." + +Conducting them into the kitchen, he made a fire, and put a kettle on +to boil; then, after leaving them to shed their soaking clothes, +returned with ancient, greenish coats, some carpet slippers, and some +blankets. Wrapped in these, and carrying their glasses, the +travellers followed to the study, where, by doubtful lamp-light, he +seemed, from books upon the table, to have been working at his +sermon. + +"We 're giving you a lot of trouble," said Shelton, "it's really very +good of you." + +"Not at all," the parson answered; "I'm only grieved the house is +empty." + +It was a truly dismal contrast to the fatness of the land they had +been passing through, and the parson's voice issuing from bloodless +lips, although complacent, was pathetic. It was peculiar, that voice +of his, seeming to indicate an intimate acquaintanceship with what +was fat and fine, to convey contempt for the vulgar need of money, +while all the time his eyes--those watery, ascetic eyes--as plain as +speech they said, "Oh, to know what it must be like to have a pound +or two to spare just once a year, or so!" + +Everything in the room had been bought for cheapness; no luxuries +were there, and necessaries not enough. It was bleak and bare; the +ceiling cracked, the wall-paper discoloured, and those books--prim, +shining books, fat-backed, with arms stamped on them--glared in the +surrounding barrenness. + +"My predecessor," said the parson, "played rather havoc with the +house. The poor fellow had a dreadful struggle, I was told. You +can, unfortunately, expect nothing else these days, when livings have +come down so terribly in value! He was a married man--large family!" + +Crocker, who had drunk his steaming lemonade, was smiling and already +nodding in his chair; with his black garment buttoned closely round +his throat, his long legs rolled up in a blanket, and stretched +towards the feeble flame of the newly-lighted fire, he had a rather +patchy air. Shelton, on the other hand, had lost his feeling of +fatigue; the strangeness of the place was stimulating his brain; he +kept stealing glances at the scantiness around; the room, the parson, +the furniture, the very fire, all gave him the feeling caused by +seeing legs that have outgrown their trousers. But there was +something underlying that leanness of the landscape, something +superior and academic, which defied all sympathy. It was pure +nervousness which made him say: + +"Ah! why do they have such families?" + +A faint red mounted to the parson's cheeks; its appearance there was +startling, and Crocker chuckled, as a sleepy man will chuckle who +feels bound to show that he is not asleep. + +"It's very unfortunate," murmured the parson, "certainly, in many +cases." + +Shelton would now have changed the subject, but at this moment the +unhappy Crocker snored. Being a man of action, he had gone to sleep. + +"It seems to me," said Shelton hurriedly, as he saw the parson's +eyebrows rising at the sound, "almost what you might call wrong." + +"Dear me, but how can it be wrong?" + +Shelton now felt that he must justify his saying somehow. + +"I don't know," he said, "only one hears of such a lot of cases-- +clergymen's families; I've two uncles of my own, who---" + +A new expression gathered on the parson's face; his mouth had +tightened, and his chin receded slightly. "Why, he 's like a mule!" +thought Shelton. His eyes, too, had grown harder, greyer, and more +parroty. Shelton no longer liked his face. + +"Perhaps you and I," the parson said, "would not understand each +other on such matters." + +And Shelton felt ashamed. + +"I should like to ask you a question in turn, however," the parson +said, as if desirous of meeting Shelton on his low ground: "How do +you justify marriage if it is not to follow the laws of nature?" + +"I can only tell you what I personally feel." + +"My dear sir, you forget that a woman's chief delight is in her +motherhood." + +"I should have thought it a pleasure likely to pall with too much +repetition. Motherhood is motherhood, whether of one or of a dozen." + +"I 'm afraid," replied the parson, with impatience, though still +keeping on his guest's low ground, "your theories are not calculated +to populate the world." + +"Have you ever lived in London?" Shelton asked. "It always makes me +feel a doubt whether we have any right to have children at all." + +"Surely," said the parson with wonderful restraint, and the joints of +his fingers cracked with the grip he had upon his chair, "you are +leaving out duty towards the country; national growth is paramount!" + +"There are two ways of looking at that. It depends on what you want +your country to become." + +"I did n't know," said the parson--fanaticism now had crept into his +smile--"there could be any doubt on such a subject." + +The more Shelton felt that commands were being given him, the more +controversial he naturally became--apart from the merits of this +subject, to which he had hardly ever given thought. + +"I dare say I'm wrong," he said, fastening his eyes on the blanket in +which his legs were wrapped; "but it seems to me at least an open +question whether it's better for the country to be so well populated +as to be quite incapable of supporting itself." + +"Surely," said the parson, whose face regained its pallor, "you're +not a Little Englander?" + +On Shelton this phrase had a mysterious effect. Resisting an impulse +to discover what he really was, he answered hastily: + +" Of course I'm not!" + +The parson followed up his triumph, and, shifting the ground of the +discussion from Shelton's to his own, he gravely said: + +"Surely you must see that your theory is founded in immorality. It +is, if I may say so, extravagant, even wicked." + +But Shelton, suffering from irritation at his own dishonesty, replied +with heat: + +"Why not say at once, sir, 'hysterical, unhealthy'? Any opinion +which goes contrary to that of the majority is always called so, I +believe." + +"Well," returned the parson, whose eyes seemed trying to bind Shelton +to his will, "I must say your ideas do seem to me both extravagant +and unhealthy. The propagation of children is enjoined of marriage." + +Shelton bowed above his blanket, but the parson did not smile. + +"We live in very dangerous times," he said, "and it grieves me when a +man of your standing panders to these notions." + +"Those," said Shelton, "whom the shoe does n't pinch make this rule +of morality, and thrust it on to such as the shoe does pinch." + +"The rule was never made," said the parson; "it was given us." + +"Oh!" said Shelton, "I beg your pardon." He was in danger of +forgetting the delicate position he was in. "He wants to ram his +notions down my throat," he thought; and it seemed to him that the +parson's face had grown more like a mule's, his accent more superior, +his eyes more dictatorial: To be right in this argument seemed now of +great importance, whereas, in truth, it was of no importance +whatsoever. That which, however, was important was the fact that in +nothing could they ever have agreed. + +But Crocker had suddenly ceased to snore; his head had fallen so that +a peculiar whistling arose instead. Both Shelton and the parson +looked at him, and the sight sobered them. + +"Your friend seems very tired," said the parson. + +Shelton forgot all his annoyance, for his host seemed suddenly +pathetic, with those baggy garments, hollow cheeks, and the slightly +reddened nose that comes from not imbibing quite enough. A kind +fellow, after all! + +The kind fellow rose, and, putting his hands behind his back, placed +himself before the blackening fire. Whole centuries of authority +stood behind him. It was an accident that the mantelpiece was +chipped and rusty, the fire-irons bent and worn, his linen frayed +about the cuffs. + +"I don't wish to dictate," said he, "but where it seems to me that +you are wholly wrong in that your ideas foster in women those lax +views of the family life that are so prevalent in Society nowadays." + +Thoughts of Antonia with her candid eyes, the touch of freckling on +her pink-white skin, the fair hair gathered back, sprang up in +Shelton, and that word--"lax" seemed ridiculous. And the women he +was wont to see dragging about the streets of London with two or +three small children, Women bent beneath the weight of babies that +they could not leave, women going to work with babies still unborn, +anaemic-looking women, impecunious mothers in his own class, with +twelve or fourteen children, all the victims of the sanctity of +marriage, and again the word "lax" seemed to be ridiculous. + +"We are not put into the world to exercise our wits,"--muttered +Shelton. + +"Our wanton wills," the parson said severely. + +"That, sir, may have been all right for the last generation, the +country is more crowded now. I can't see why we should n't decide it +for ourselves." + +"Such a view of morality," said the parson, looking down at Crocker +with a ghostly smile, "to me is unintelligible." + +Cracker's whistling grew in tone and in variety. + +"What I hate," said Shelton, "is the way we men decide what women are +to bear, and then call them immoral, decadent, or what you will, if +they don't fall in with our views." + +"Mr. Shelton," said the parson, "I think we may safely leave it in +the hands of God." + +Shelton was silent. + +"The questions of morality," said the parson promptly, "have always +lain through God in the hands of men, not women. We are the +reasonable sex." + +Shelton stubbornly replied + +"We 're certainly the greater humbugs, if that 's the same." + +"This is too bad," exclaimed the parson with some heat. + +"I 'm sorry, sir; but how can you expect women nowadays to have the +same views as our grandmothers? We men, by our commercial +enterprise, have brought about a different state of things; yet, for +the sake of our own comfort, we try to keep women where they were. +It's always those men who are most keen about their comfort"--and in +his heat the sarcasm of using the word "comfort" in that room was +lost on him--"who are so ready to accuse women of deserting the old +morality." + +The parson quivered with impatient irony. + +"Old morality! new morality!" he said. "These are strange words." + +"Forgive me," explained Shelton; "we 're talking of working morality, +I imagine. There's not a man in a million fit to talk of true +morality." + +The eyes of his host contracted. + +"I think," he said--and his voice sounded as if he had pinched it in +the endeavour to impress his listener--"that any well-educated man +who honestly tries to serve his God has the right humbly--I say +humbly--to claim morality." + +Shelton was on the point of saying something bitter, but checked +himself. "Here am I," thought he, "trying to get the last word, like +an old woman." + +At this moment there was heard a piteous mewing; the parson went +towards the door. + +"Excuse me a moment; I 'm afraid that's one of my cats out in the +wet." He returned a minute later with a wet cat in his arms. "They +will get out," he said to Shelton, with a smile on his thin face, +suffused by stooping. And absently he stroked the dripping cat, +while a drop of wet ran off his nose. "Poor pussy, poor pussy!" The +sound of that "Poor pussy!" like nothing human in its cracked +superiority, the softness of that smile, like the smile of gentleness +itself, haunted Shelton till he fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ACADEMIC + +The last sunlight was playing on the roofs when the travellers +entered that High Street grave and holy to all Oxford men. The +spirit hovering above the spires was as different from its +concretions in their caps and gowns as ever the spirit of Christ was +from church dogmas. + +"Shall we go into Grinnings'?" asked Shelton, as they passed the +club. + +But each looked at his clothes, for two elegant young men in flannel +suits were coming out. + +"You go," said Crocker, with a smirk. + +Shelton shook his head. Never before had he felt such love for this +old city. It was gone now from out his life, but everything about it +seemed so good and fine; even its exclusive air was not ignoble. +Clothed in the calm of history, the golden web of glorious tradition, +radiant with the alchemy of memories, it bewitched him like the +perfume of a woman's dress. At the entrance of a college they +glanced in at the cool grey patch of stone beyond, and the scarlet of +a window flowerbox--secluded, mysteriously calm--a narrow vision of +the sacred past. Pale and trencher-capped, a youth with pimply face +and random nose, grabbing at his cloven gown, was gazing at the +noticeboard. The college porter--large man, fresh-faced, and small- +mouthed--stood at his lodge door in a frank and deferential attitude. +An image of routine, he looked like one engaged to give a decorous +air to multitudes of pecadilloes. His blue eyes rested on the +travellers. "I don't know you, sirs, but if you want to speak I +shall be glad to hear the observations you may have to make," they +seemed to say. + +Against the wall reposed a bicycle with tennis-racquet buckled to its +handle. A bull-dog bitch, working her snout from side to side, was +snuffling horribly; the great iron-studded door to which her chain +was fastened stayed immovable. Through this narrow mouth, human +metal had been poured for centuries--poured, moulded, given back. + +"Come along," said Shelton. + +They now entered the Bishop's Head, and had their dinner in the room +where Shelton had given his Derby dinner to four-and-twenty well-bred +youths; here was the picture of the racehorse that the wineglass, +thrown by one of them, had missed when it hit the waiter; and there, +serving Crocker with anchovy sauce, was the very waiter. When they +had finished, Shelton felt the old desire to rise with difficulty +from the table; the old longing to patrol the streets with arm hooked +in some other arm; the old eagerness to dare and do something heroic +--and unlawful; the old sense that he was of the forest set, in the +forest college, of the forest country in the finest world. The +streets, all grave and mellow in the sunset, seemed to applaud this +after-dinner stroll; the entrance quad of his old college--spaciously +majestic, monastically modern, for years the heart of his universe, +the focus of what had gone before it in his life, casting the shadow +of its grey walls over all that had come after-brought him a sense of +rest from conflict, and trust in his own important safety. The +garden-gate, whose lofty spikes he had so often crowned with empty +water-bottles, failed to rouse him. Nor when they passed the +staircase where he had flung a leg of lamb at some indelicate +disturbing tutor, did he feel remorse. High on that staircase were +the rooms in which he had crammed for his degree, upon the system by +which the scholar simmers on the fire of cramming, boils over at the +moment of examination, and is extinct for ever after. His coach's +face recurred to him, a man with thrusting eyes, who reeled off +knowledge all the week, and disappeared to town on Sundays. + +They passed their tutor's staircase. + +"I wonder if little Turl would remember us?" said Crocker; "I should +like to see him. Shall we go and look him up?" + +"Little Turl?" said Shelton dreamily. + +Mounting, they knocked upon a solid door. + +"Come in," said the voice of Sleep itself. + +A little man with a pink face and large red ears was sitting in a fat +pink chair, as if he had been grown there. + +"What do you want?" he asked of them, blinking. + +"Don't you know me, sir?" + +"God bless me! Crocker, isn't it? I didn't recognise you with a +beard." + +Crocker, who had not been shaved since starting on his travels, +chuckled feebly. + +"You remember Shelton, sir?" he said. + +"Shelton? Oh yes! How do you do, Shelton? Sit down; take a cigar"; +and, crossing his fat little legs, the little gentleman looked them +up and down with drowsy interest, as who should say, "Now, after, all +you know, why come and wake me up like this?" + +Shelton and Crocker took two other chairs; they too seemed thinking, +"Yes, why did we come and wake him up like this? "And Shelton, who +could not tell the reason why, took refuge in the smoke of his cigar. +The panelled walls were hung with prints of celebrated Greek remains; +the soft, thick carpet on the floor was grateful to his tired feet; +the backs of many books gleamed richly in the light of the oil lamps; +the culture and tobacco smoke stole on his senses; he but vaguely +comprehended Crocker's amiable talk, vaguely the answers of his +little host, whose face, blinking behind the bowl of his huge +meerschaum pipe, had such a queer resemblance to a moon. The door +was opened, and a tall creature, whose eyes were large and brown, +whose face was rosy and ironical, entered with a manly stride. + +"Oh!" he said, looking round him with his chin a little in the air, +"am I intruding, Turl?" + +The little host, blinking more than ever, murmured, + +"Not at all, Berryman--take a pew!" + +The visitor called Berryman sat down, and gazed up at the wall with +his fine eyes. + +Shelton had a faint remembrance of this don, and bowed; but the new- +comer sat smiling, and did not notice the salute. + +"Trimmer and Washer are coming round," he said, and as he spoke the +door opened to admit these gentlemen. Of the same height, but +different appearance, their manner was faintly jocular, faintly +supercilious, as if they tolerated everything. The one whose name +was Trimmer had patches of red on his large cheek-bones, and on his +cheeks a bluish tint. His lips were rather full, so that he had a +likeness to a spider. Washer, who was thin and pale, wore an +intellectual smile. + +The little fat host moved the hand that held the meerschaum. + +"Crocker, Shelton," he said. + +An awkward silence followed. Shelton tried to rouse the cultured +portion of his wits; but the sense that nothing would be treated +seriously paralysed his faculties; he stayed silent, staring at the +glowing tip of his cigar. It seemed to him unfair to have intruded +on these gentlemen without its having been made quite clear to them +beforehand who and what he was; he rose to take his leave, but Washer +had begun to speak. + +"Madame Bovary!" he said quizzically, reading the title of the book +on the little fat man's bookrest; and, holding it closer to his +boiled-looking eyes, he repeated, as though it were a joke, "Madame +Bovary!" + +"Do you mean to say, Turl, that you can stand that stuff?" said +Berryman. + +As might have been expected, this celebrated novel's name had +galvanised him into life; he strolled over to the bookcase, took down +a book, opened it, and began to read, wandering in a desultory way +about the room. + +"Ha! Berryman," said a conciliatory voice behind--it came from +Trimmer, who had set his back against the hearth, and grasped with +either hand a fistful of his gown--"the book's a classic!" + +"Classic!" exclaimed Berryman, transfixing Shelton with his eyes; +"the fellow ought to have been horsewhipped for writing such +putridity!" + +A feeling of hostility instantly sprang up in Shelton; he looked at +his little host, who, however, merely blinked. + +"Berryman only means," explains Washer, a certain malice in his +smile, "that the author is n't one of his particular pets." + +"For God's sake, you know, don't get Berryman on his horse!" growled +the little fat man suddenly. + +Berryman returned his volume to the shelf and took another down. +There was something almost godlike in his sarcastic absent- +mindedness. + +"Imagine a man writing that stuff," he said, "if he'd ever been at +Eton! What do we want to know about that sort of thing? A writer +should be a sportsman and a gentleman"; and again he looked down over +his chin at Shelton, as though expecting him to controvert the +sentiment. + +"Don't you--" began the latter. + +But Berryman's attention had wandered to the wall. + +"I really don't care," said he, "to know what a woman feels when she +is going to the dogs; it does n't interest me." + +The voice of Trimmer made things pleasant: + +"Question of moral standards, that, and nothing more." + +He had stretched his legs like compasses,--and the way he grasped his +gown-wings seemed to turn him to a pair of scales. His lowering +smile embraced the room, deprecating strong expressions. "After +all," he seemed to say, "we are men of the world; we know there 's +not very much in anything. This is the modern spirit; why not give +it a look in?" + +"Do I understand you to say, Berryman, that you don't enjoy a spicy +book?" asked Washer with his smile; and at this question the little +fat man sniggered, blinking tempestuously, as if to say, "Nothing +pleasanter, don't you know, before a hot fire in cold weather." + +Berryman paid no attention to the impertinent inquiry, continuing to +dip into his volume and walk up and down. + +"I've nothing to say," he remarked, stopping before Shelton, and +looking down, as if at last aware of him, "to those who talk of being +justified through Art. I call a spade a spade." + +Shelton did not answer, because he could not tell whether Berryman +was addressing him or society at large. And Berryman went on: + +"Do we want to know about the feelings of a middle-class woman with a +taste for vice? Tell me the point of it. No man who was in the +habit of taking baths would choose such a subject." + +"You come to the question of-ah-subjects," the voice of Trimmer +genially buzzed he had gathered his garments tight across his back- +"my dear fellow, Art, properly applied, justifies all subjects." + +"For Art," squeaked Berryman, putting back his second volume and +taking down a third, "you have Homer, Cervantes, Shakespeare, Ossian; +for garbage, a number of unwashed gentlemen." + +There was a laugh; Shelton glanced round at all in turn. With the +exception of Crocker, who was half asleep and smiling idiotically, +they wore, one and all, a look as if by no chance could they consider +any subject fit to move their hearts; as if, one and all, they were +so profoundly anchored on the sea of life that waves could only seem +impertinent. It may have been some glimmer in this glance of +Shelton's that brought Trimmer once more to the rescue with his +compromising air. + +"The French," said he, "have quite a different standard from +ourselves in literature, just as they have a different standard in +regard to honour. All this is purely artificial." + +What he, meant, however, Shelton found it difficult to tell. + +"Honour," said Washer, "'l'honneur, die Ehre' duelling, unfaithful +wives---" + +He was clearly going to add to this, but it was lost; for the little +fat man, taking the meerschaum with trembling fingers, and holding it +within two inches of his chin, murmured: + +"You fellows, Berryman's awf'ly strong on honour." + +He blinked twice, and put the meerschaum back between his lips. + +Without returning the third volume to its shelf, Berryman took down a +fourth; with chest expanded, he appeared about to use the books as +dumb-bells. + +"Quite so," said Trimmer; "the change from duelling to law courts is +profoundly---" + +Whether he were going to say "significant" or "insignificant," in +Shelton's estimate he did not know himself. Fortunately Berryman +broke in: + +"Law courts or not, when a man runs away with a wife of mine, I shall +punch his head!" + +"Come, come!" said Turner, spasmodically grasping his two wings. + +Shelton had a gleam of inspiration. "If your wife deceived you," he +thought, looking at Trimmer's eyes, "you 'd keep it quiet, and hold +it over her." + +Washer passed his hand over his pale chaps: his smile had never +wavered; he looked like one for ever lost in the making of an +epigram. + +The punching theorist stretched his body, holding the books level +with his shoulders, as though to stone his hearers with his point of +view. His face grew paler, his fine eyes finer, his lips ironical. +Almost painful was this combination of the "strong" man and the +student who was bound to go to pieces if you hit him a smart blow. + +"As for forgiving faithless wives," he said, "and all that sort of +thing, I don't believe in sentiment." + +The words were high-pitched and sarcastic. Shelton looked hastily +around. All their faces were complacent. He grew red, and suddenly +remarked, in a soft; clear voice: + +"I see!" + +He was conscious that he had never before made an impression of this +sort, and that he never would again. The cold hostility flashing out +all round was most enlightening; it instantly gave way to the polite, +satirical indulgence peculiar to highly-cultivated men. Crocker rose +nervously; he seemed scared, and was obviously relieved when Shelton, +following his example, grasped the little fat man's hand, who said +good-night in a voice shaken by tobacco. + +"Who are your unshaven friends?" he heard as the door was closed +behind them. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +AN INCIDENT + +"Eleven o'clock," said Crocker, as they went out of college. "I +don't feel sleepy; shall we stroll along the 'High' a bit?" + +Shelton assented; he was too busy thinking of his encounter with the +dons to heed the soreness of his feet. This, too, was the last day +of his travels, for he had not altered his intention of waiting at +Oxford till July. + +"We call this place the heart of knowledge," he said, passing a great +building that presided, white and silent, over darkness; "it seems to +me as little that, as Society is the heart of true gentility." + +Crocker's answer was a grunt; he was looking at the stars, +calculating possibly in how long he could walk to heaven. + +"No," proceeded Shelton; "we've too much common-sense up here to +strain our minds. We know when it's time to stop. We pile up news +of Papias and all the verbs in 'ui' but as for news of life or of +oneself! Real seekers after knowledge are a different sort. They +fight in the dark--no quarter given. We don't grow that sort up +here." + +"How jolly the limes smell!" said Crocker. + +He had halted opposite a garden, and taken hold of Shelton by a +button of his coat. His eyes, like a dog's, stared wistfully. It +seemed as though he wished to speak, but feared to give offence. + +"They tell you," pursued Shelton, "that we learn to be gentlemen up +here. We learn that better through one incident that stirs our +hearts than we learn it here in all the time we're up." + +"Hum!" muttered Crocker, twisting at the button; "those fellows who +seemed the best sorts up here have turned out the best sorts +afterwards." + +"I hope not," said Shelton gloomily; "I was a snob when I was up +here. I believed all I was told, anything that made things pleasant; +my "set" were nothing but---" + +Crocker smiled in the darkness; he had been too "cranky" to belong to +Shelton's "set." + +"You never were much like your 'set,' old chap," he said. + +Shelton turned away, sniffing the perfume of the limes. Images were +thronging through his mind. The faces of his old friends strangely +mixed with those of people he had lately met--the girl in the train, +Ferrand, the lady with the short, round, powdered face, the little +barber; others, too, and floating, mysterious,--connected with them +all, Antonia's face. The scent of the lime-trees drifted at him with +its magic sweetness. From the street behind, the footsteps of the +passers-by sounded muffled, yet exact, and on the breeze was borne +the strain: "For he's a jolly good fellow!" + +"For he's a jolly good fellow! For he's a jolly good fe-ellow! And +so say all of us!" + +"Ah!" he said, "they were good chaps." + +"I used to think," said Crocker dreamily, "that some of them had too +much side." + +And Shelton laughed. + +"The thing sickens me," said he, "the whole snobbish, selfish +business. The place sickens me, lined with cotton-wool-made so +beastly comfortable." + +Crocker shook his head. + +"It's a splendid old place," he said, his eyes fastening at last on +Shelton's boots. "You know, old chap," he stammered, "I think you-- +you ought to take care!" + +"Take care? What of?" + +Crocker pressed his arm convulsively. + +"Don't be waxy, old boy," he said; "I mean that you seem somehow--to +be--to be losing yourself." + +"Losing myself! Finding myself, you mean!" + +Crocker did not answer; his face was disappointed. Of what exactly +was he thinking? In Shelton's heart there was a bitter pleasure in +knowing that his friend was uncomfortable on his account, a sort of +contempt, a sort of aching. Crocker broke the silence. + +"I think I shall do a bit more walking to-night," he said; "I feel +very fit. Don't you really mean to come any further with me, Bird?" + +And there was anxiety in his voice, as though Shelton were in danger +of missing something good. The latter's feet had instantly begun to +ache and burn. + +"No!"? he said; "you know what I'm staying here for." + +Crocker nodded. + +"She lives near here. Well, then, I'll say good-bye. I should like +to do another ten miles to-night." + +"My dear fellow, you're tired and lame." + +Crocker chuckled. + +"No," he said; "I want to get on. See you in London. Good-bye!" +and, gripping Shelton's hand, he turned and limped away. + +Shelton called after him: "Don't be an idiot: You 'll only knock +yourself up." + +But the sole answer was the pale moon of Crocker's face screwed round +towards him in the darkness, and the waving of his stick. + +Shelton strolled slowly on; leaning over the bridge, he watched the +oily gleam of lamps, on the dark water underneath the trees. He felt +relieved, yet sorry. His thoughts were random, curious, half +mutinous, half sweet. That afternoon five years ago, when he had +walked back from the river with Antonia across the Christchurch +meadows, was vivid to his mind; the scent of that afternoon had never +died away from him-the aroma of his love. Soon she would be his +wife--his wife! The faces of the dons sprang up before him. They +had wives, perhaps. Fat, lean, satirical, and compromising--what was +it that through diversity they had in common? Cultured intolerance! +. . . Honour! . . . A queer subject to discuss. Honour! The +honour that made a fuss, and claimed its rights! And Shelton smiled. +"As if man's honour suffered when he's injured!" And slowly he +walked along the echoing, empty street to his room at the Bishop's +Head. Next morning he received the following wire: + + Thirty miles left eighteen hours heel bad but going + strong CROCKER + +He passed a fortnight at the Bishop's Head, waiting for the end of +his probation, and the end seemed long in coming. To be so near +Antonia, and as far as if he lived upon another planet, was worse +than ever. Each day he took a sculling skiff, and pulled down to +near Holm Oaks, on the chance of her being on the river; but the +house was two miles off, and the chance but slender. She never came. +After spending the afternoons like this he would return, pulling hard +against the stream, with a queer feeling of relief, dine heartily, +and fall adreaming over his cigar. Each morning he awoke in an +excited mood, devoured his letter if he had one, and sat down to +write to her. These letters of his were the most amazing portion of +that fortnight. They were remarkable for failing to express any +single one of his real thoughts, but they were full of sentiments +which were not what he was truly feeling; and when he set himself to +analyse, he had such moments of delirium that he was scared, and +shocked, and quite unable to write anything. He made the discovery +that no two human beings ever tell each other what they really feel, +except, perhaps, in situations with which he could not connect +Antonia's ice-blue eyes and brilliant smile. All the world was too +engaged in planning decency. + +Absorbed by longings, he but vaguely realised the turmoil of +Commemoration, which had gathered its hundreds for their annual cure +of salmon mayonnaise and cheap champagne. In preparation for his +visit to Holm Oaks he shaved his beard and had some clothes sent down +from London. With them was forwarded a letter from Ferrand, which +ran as follows: + + +IMPERIAL PEACOCK HOTEL, +FOLKESTONE, + +June 20. + +MY DEAR SIR, + +Forgive me for not having written to you before, but I have been so +bothered that I have felt no taste for writing; when I have the time, +I have some curious stories to tell you. Once again I have +encountered that demon of misfortune which dogs my footsteps. Being +occupied all day and nearly all night upon business which brings me a +heap of worries and next to no profit, I have no chance to look after +my things. Thieves have entered my room, stolen everything, and left +me an empty box. I am once again almost without clothes, and know +not where to turn to make that figure necessary for the fulfilment of +my duties. You see, I am not lucky. Since coming to your country, +the sole piece of fortune I have had was to tumble on a man like you. +Excuse me for not writing more at this moment. Hoping that you are +in good health, and in affectionately pressing your hand, + I am, + Always your devoted + LOUIS FERRAND. + + +Upon reading this letter Shelton had once more a sense of being +exploited, of which he was ashamed; he sat down immediately and wrote +the following reply: + +BISHOPS HEAD HOTEL, +OXFORD, + +June 25. + +MY DEAR FERRAND, + +I am grieved to hear of your misfortunes. I was much hoping that you +had made a better start. I enclose you Post Office Orders for four +pounds. Always glad to hear from you. + +Yours sincerely, + +RICHARD SHELTON. + + +He posted it with the satisfaction that a man feels who nobly shakes +off his responsibilities. + +Three days before July he met with one of those disturbing incidents +which befall no persons who attend quietly to their, property and +reputation. + +The night was unbearably hot, and he had wandered out with his cigar; +a woman came sidling up and spoke to him. He perceived her to be one +of those made by men into mediums for their pleasure, to feel +sympathy with whom was sentimental. Her face was flushed, her +whisper hoarse; she had no attractions but the curves of a tawdry +figure. Shelton was repelled by her proprietary tone, by her blowzy +face, and by the scent of patchouli. Her touch on his arm startled +him, sending a shiver through his marrow; he almost leaped aside, and +walked the faster. But her breathing as she followed sounded +laboured; it suddenly seemed pitiful that a woman should be panting +after him like that. + +"The least I can do," he thought, "is to speak to her." He stopped, +and, with a mixture of hardness and compassion, said, "It 's +impossible." + +In spite of her smile, he saw by her disappointed eyes that she +accepted the impossibility. + +"I 'm sorry," he said. + +She muttered something. Shelton shook his head. + +"I 'm sorry," he said once more. "Good.-night." + +The woman bit her lower lip. + +"Good-night," she answered dully. + +At the corner of the street he turned his head. The woman was +hurrying uneasily; a policeman coming from behind had caught her by +the arm. + +His heart began to beat. "Heavens!" he thought, "what shall I do +now?" His first impulse was to walk away, and think no more about it +--to act, indeed, like any averagely decent man who did not care to +be concerned in such affairs. + +He retraced his steps, however, and halted half a dozen paces from +their figures. + +"Ask the gentleman! He spoke to me," she was saying in her brassy +voice, through the emphasis of which Shelton could detect her fear. + +"That's all right," returned the policeman, "we know all about that." + +"You--police!" cried the woman tearfully; "I 've got to get my +living, have n't I, the same as you?" + +Shelton hesitated, then, catching the expression in her frightened +face, stepped forward. The policeman turned, and at the sight of his +pale, heavy jowl, cut by the cheek-strap, and the bullying eyes, he +felt both hate and fear, as if brought face to face with all that he +despised and loathed, yet strangely dreaded. The cold certainty of +law and order upholding the strong, treading underfoot the weak, the +smug front of meanness that only the purest spirits may attack, +seemed to be facing him. And the odd thing was, this man was only +carrying out his duty. Shelton moistened his lips. + +"You're not going to charge her?" + +"Aren't I?" returned the policeman. + +"Look here; constable, you 're making a mistake." + +The policeman took out his note-book. + +"Oh, I 'm making a mistake? I 'll take your name and address, +please; we have to report these things." + +"By all means," said Shelton, angrily giving it. "I spoke to her +first." + +"Perhaps you'll come up to the court tomorrow morning, and repeat +that," replied the policeman, with incivility. + +Shelton looked at him with all the force at his command. + +"You had better be careful, constable," he said; but in the act of +uttering these words he thought how pitiable they sounded. + +"We 're not to be trifled with," returned the policeman in a +threatening voice. + +Shelton could think of nothing but to repeat: + +"You had better be careful, constable." + +"You're a gentleman," replied the policeman. "I'm only a policeman. +You've got the riches, I've got the power." + +Grasping the woman's arm, he began to move along with her. + +Shelton turned, and walked away. + +He went to Grinnings' Club, and flung himself down upon a sofa. His +feeling was not one of pity for the woman, nor of peculiar anger with +the policeman, but rather of dissatisfaction with himself. + +"What ought I to have done?" he thought, "the beggar was within his +rights." + +He stared at the pictures on the wall, and a tide of disgust surged +up in him. + +"One or other of us," he reflected, "we make these women what they +are. And when we've made them, we can't do without them; we don't +want to; but we give them no proper homes, so that they're reduced to +prowl about the streets, and then we run them in. Ha! that's good-- +that's excellent! We run them in! And here we sit and carp. But +what do we do? Nothing! Our system is the most highly moral known. +We get the benefit without soiling even the hem of our phylacteries-- +the women are the only ones that suffer. And why should n't they-- +inferior things?" + +He lit a cigarette, and ordered the waiter to bring a drink. + +"I'll go to the Court," he thought; but suddenly it occurred to him +that the case would get into the local papers. The press would +never miss so nice a little bit of scandal--"Gentleman v. Policeman!" +And he had a vision of Antonia's father, a neighbouring and +conscientious magistrate, solemnly reading this. Someone, at all +events, was bound to see his name and make a point of mentioning it +too good to be missed! And suddenly he saw with horror that to help +the woman he would have to assert again that he had spoken to her +first. "I must go to the Court!" he kept thinking, as if to assure +himself that he was not a coward. + +He lay awake half the night worrying over this dilemma. + +"But I did n't speak to her first," he told himself; "I shall only be +telling a lie, and they 'll make me swear it, too!" + +He tried to persuade himself that this was against his principles, +but at the bottom of his heart he knew that he would not object to +telling such a lie if only guaranteed immune from consequences; it +appeared to him, indeed, but obvious humanity. + +"But why should I suffer?" he thought; "I've done nothing. It's +neither reasonable nor just." + +He hated the unhappy woman who was causing him these horrors of +uncertainty. Whenever he decided one way or other, the policeman's +face, with its tyrannical and muddy eyes, rose before him like a +nightmare, and forced him to an opposite conviction. He fell asleep +at last with the full determination to go and see what happened. + +He woke with a sense of odd disturbance. "I can do no good by +going," he thought, remembering, aid lying very still; "they 're +certain to believe the policeman; I shall only blacken myself for +nothing;" and the combat began again within him, but with far less +fury. It was not what other people thought, not even the risk of +perjury that mattered (all this he made quite clear)--it was Antonia. +It was not fair to her to put himself in such a false position; in +fact, not decent. + +He breakfasted. In the room were some Americans, and the face of one +young girl reminded him a little of Antonia. Fainter and fainter +grew the incident; it seemed to have its right proportions. + +Two hours later, looking at the clock, he found that it was lunch- +time. He had not gone, had not committed perjury; but he wrote to a +daily paper, pointing out the danger run by the community from the +power which a belief in their infallibility places in the hands of +the police--how, since they are the sworn abettors of right and +justice, their word is almost necessarily taken to be gospel; how one +and all they hang together, from mingled interest and esprit de +corps. Was it not, he said, reasonable to suppose that amongst +thousands of human beings invested with such opportunities there +would be found bullies who would take advantage of them, and rise to +distinction in the service upon the helplessness of the unfortunate +and the cowardice of people with anything to lose? Those who had in +their hands the sacred duties of selecting a practically +irresponsible body of men were bound, for the sake of freedom and +humanity, to exercise those duties with the utmost care and +thoroughness . . . . + +However true, none of this helped him to think any better of himself +at heart, and he was haunted by the feeling that a stout and honest +bit of perjury was worth more than a letter to a daily paper. + +He never saw his letter printed, containing, as it did, the germs of +an unpalatable truth. + +In the afternoon he hired a horse, and galloped on Port Meadow. The +strain of his indecision over, he felt like a man recovering from an +illness, and he carefully abstained from looking at the local papers. +There was that within him, however, which resented the worsting of +his chivalry. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +HOLM OAKS + +Holm Oaks stood back but little from the road--an old manor-house, +not set upon display, but dwelling close to its barns, stables, and +walled gardens, like a good mother; long, flat-roofed, red, it had +Queen Anne windows, on whose white-framed diamond panes the sunbeams +glinted. + +In front of it a fringe of elms, of all trees the tree of most +established principle, bordered the stretch of turf between the +gravel drive and road; and these elms were the homes of rooks of all +birds the most conventional. A huge aspen--impressionable creature-- +shivered and shook beyond, apologising for appearance among such +imperturbable surroundings. It was frequented by a cuckoo, who came +once a year to hoot at the rules of life, but seldom made long stay; +for boys threw stones at it, exasperated by the absence of its +morals. + +The village which clustered in the dip had not yet lost its dread of +motor-cars. About this group of flat-faced cottages with gabled +roofs the scent of hay, manure, and roses clung continually; just now +the odour of the limes troubled its servile sturdiness. Beyond the +dip, again, a square-towered church kept within grey walls the record +of the village flock, births, deaths, and marriages--even the births +of bastards, even the deaths of suicides--and seemed to stretch a +hand invisible above the heads of common folk to grasp the forgers of +the manor-house. Decent and discreet, the two roofs caught the eye +to the exclusion of all meaner dwellings, seeming to have joined in a +conspiracy to keep them out of sight. + +The July sun had burned his face all the way from Oxford, yet pale +was Shelton when he walked up the drive and rang the bell. + +"Mrs. Dennant at home, Dobson?" he asked of the grave butler, who, +old servant that he was, still wore coloured trousers (for it was not +yet twelve o'clock, and he regarded coloured trousers up to noon as a +sacred distinction between the footmen and himself). + +"Mrs. Dennant," replied this personage, raising his round and +hairless face, while on his mouth appeared that apologetic pout which +comes of living with good families--"Mrs. Dennant has gone into the +village, sir; but Miss Antonia is in the morning-room." + +Shelton crossed the panelled, low-roofed hall, through whose far side +the lawn was visible, a vision of serenity. He mounted six wide, +shallow steps, and stopped. From behind a closed door there came the +sound of scales, and he stood, a prey to his emotions, the notes +mingling in his ears with the beating of his heart. He softly turned +the handle, a fixed smile on his lips. + +Antonia was at the piano; her head was bobbing to the movements of +her fingers, and pressing down the pedals were her slim monotonously +moving feet. She had been playing tennis, for a racquet and her tam- +o'-shanter were flung down, and she was dressed in a blue skirt and +creamy blouse, fitting collarless about her throat. Her face was +flushed, and wore a little frown; and as her fingers raced along the +keys, her neck swayed, and the silk clung and shivered on her arms. + +Shelton's eyes fastened on the silent, counting lips, on the fair +hair about her forehead, the darker eyebrows slanting down towards +the nose, the undimpled cheeks with the faint finger-marks beneath +the ice-blue eyes, the softly-pouting and undimpled chin, the whole +remote, sweet, suntouched, glacial face. + +She turned her head, and, springing up, cried: + +"Dick! What fun!" She gave him both her hands, but her smiling face +said very plainly, "Oh; don't let us be sentimental!" + +"Are n't you glad to see me?" muttered Shelton. + +"Glad to see you! You are funny, Dick!--as if you did n't know! +Why, you 've shaved your beard! Mother and Sybil have gone into the +village to see old Mrs. Hopkins. Shall we go out? Thea and the boys +are playing tennis. It's so jolly that you 've come! "She caught up +the tam-o'-shanter, and pinned it to her hair. Almost as tall as +Shelton, she looked taller, with arms raised and loose sleeves +quivering like wings to the movements of her fingers. "We might have +a game before lunch; you can have my other racquet." + +"I've got no things," said Shelton blankly. + +Her calm glance ran over him. + +"You can have some of old Bernard's; he's got any amount. I'll wait +for you." She swung her racquet, looked at Shelton, cried, "Be +quick!" and vanished. + +Shelton ran up-stairs, and dressed in the undecided way of men +assuming other people's clothes. She was in the hall when he +descended, humming a tune and prodding at her shoe; her smile showed +all her pearly upper teeth. He caught hold of her sleeve and +whispered: + +"Antonia!" + +The colour rushed into her cheeks; she looked back across her +shoulder. + +"Come along, old Dick!" she cried; and, flinging open the glass +door, ran into the garden. + +Shelton followed. + +The tennis-ground was divided by tall netting from a paddock. A holm +oak tree shaded one corner, and its thick dark foliage gave an +unexpected depth to the green smoothness of the scene. As Shelton +and Antonia carne up, Bernard Dennant stopped and cordially grasped +Shelton's hand. From the far side of the net Thea, in a shortish +skirt, tossed back her straight fair hair, and, warding off the sun, +came strolling up to them. The umpire, a small boy of twelve, was +lying on his stomach, squealing and tickling a collie. Shelton bent +and pulled his hair. + +"Hallo, Toddles! you young ruffian!" + +One and all they stood round Shelton, and there was a frank and +pitiless inquiry in their eyes, in the angle of their noses something +chaffing and distrustful, as though about him were some subtle +poignant scent exciting curiosity and disapproval. + +When the setts were over, and the girls resting in the double hammock +underneath the holm oak, Shelton went with Bernard to the paddock to +hunt for the lost balls. + +"I say, old chap," said his old school-fellow, smiling dryly, "you're +in for a wigging from the Mater." + +"A wigging?" murmured Shelton. + +"I don't know much about it, but from something she let drop it seems +you've been saying some queer things in your letters to Antonia"; and +again he looked at Shelton with his dry smile. + +"Queer things?" said the latter angrily. "What d' you mean?" + +"Oh, don't ask me. The Mater thinks she's in a bad way--unsettled, +or what d' you call at. You've been telling her that things are not +what they seem. That's bad, you know"; and still smiling he shook +his head. + +Shelton dropped his eyes. + +"Well, they are n't!" he said. + +"Oh, that's all right! But don't bring your philosophy down here, +old chap." + +"Philosophy!" said Shelton, puzzled. + +"Leave us a sacred prejudice or two." + +"Sacred! Nothing's sacred, except--" But Shelton did not finish his +remark. "I don't understand," he said. + +"Ideals, that sort of thing! You've been diving down below the line +of 'practical politics,' that's about the size of it, my boy"; and, +stooping suddenly, he picked up the last ball. "There is the Mater!" +Shelton saw Mrs. Dennant coming down the lawn with her second +daughter, Sybil. + +By the time they reached the holm oak the three girls had departed +towards the house, walking arm in arm, and Mrs. Dennant was standing +there alone, in a grey dress, talking to an undergardener. Her +hands, cased in tan gauntlets, held a basket which warded off the +bearded gardener from the severe but ample lines of her +useful-looking skirt. The collie, erect upon his haunches, looked at +their two faces, pricking his ears in his endeavour to appreciate how +one of these two bipeds differed from the other. + +"Thank you; that 'll do, Bunyan. Ah, Dick! Charmin' to see you +here, at last!" + +In his intercourse with Mrs. Dennant, Shelton never failed to mark +the typical nature of her personality. It always seemed to him that +he had met so many other ladies like her. He felt that her +undoubtable quality had a non-individual flavour, as if standing for +her class. She thought that standing for herself was not the thing; +yet she was full of character. Tall, with nose a trifle beaked, +long, sloping chin, and an assured, benevolent mouth, showing, +perhaps, too many teeth--though thin, she was not unsubstantial. Her +accent in speaking showed her heritage; it was a kind of drawl which +disregarded vulgar merits such as tone; leaned on some syllables, and +despised the final 'g'--the peculiar accent, in fact, of aristocracy, +adding its deliberate joys to life. + +Shelton knew that she had many interests; she was never really idle, +from the time (7 A.M.) when her maid brought her a little china pot +of tea with a single biscuit and her pet dog, Tops, till eleven +o'clock at night, when she lighted a wax candle in a silver +candlestick, and with this in one hand, and in the other a new novel, +or, better still, one of those charming volumes written by great +people about the still greater people they have met, she said good- +night to her children and her guests. No! What with photography, +the presidency of a local league, visiting the rich, superintending +all the poor, gardening, reading, keeping all her ideas so tidy that +no foreign notions might stray in, she was never idle. The +information she collected from these sources was both vast and +varied, but she never let it flavour her opinions, which lacked +sauce, and were drawn from some sort of dish into which, with all her +class, she dipped her fingers. + +He liked her. No one could help liking her. She was kind, and of +such good quality, with a suggestion about her of thin, excellent, +and useful china; and she was scented, too--not with verbena, +violets, or those essences which women love, but with nothing, as if +she had taken stand against all meretricity. In her intercourse with +persons not "quite the thing" (she excepted the vicar from this +category, though his father had dealt in haberdashery), her +refinement, gently, unobtrusively, and with great practical good +sense, seemed continually to murmur, "I am, and you--well, are you, +don't you know?" But there was no self-consciousness about this +attitude, for she was really not a common woman. She simply could +not help it; all her people had done this. Their nurses breathed +above them in their cradles something that, inhaled into their +systems, ever afterwards prevented them from taking good, clear +breaths. And her manner! Ah! her manner--it concealed the inner +woman so as to leave doubt of her existence! + +Shelton listened to the kindly briskness with which she dwelt upon +the under-gardener. + +"Poor Bunyan! he lost his wife six months ago, and was quite cheerful +just at first, but now he 's really too distressin'. I 've done all +I can to rouse him; it's so melancholy to see him mopin'. And, my +dear Dick, the way he mangles the new rose-trees! I'm afraid he's +goin' mad; I shall have to send him away; poor fellow!" + +It was clear that she sympathised with Bunyan, or, rather, believed +him entitled to a modicum of wholesome grief, the loss of wives being +a canonised and legal, sorrow. But excesses! O dear, no! + +"I 've told him I shall raise his wages," she sighed. "He used to be +such a splendid gardener! That reminds me, my dear Dick; I want to +have a talk with you. Shall we go in to lunch?" + +Consulting the memorandum-book in which she had been noting the case +of Mrs. Hopkins, she slightly preceded Shelton to the house. + +It was somewhat late that afternoon when Shelton had his "wigging"; +nor did it seem to him, hypnotised by the momentary absence of +Antonia, such a very serious affair. + +"Now, Dick," the Honourable Mrs. Dennant said, in her decisive drawl, +"I don't think it 's right to put ideas into Antonia's head." + +"Ideas!" murmured Shelton in confusion. + +"We all know," continued Mrs. Dennant, "that things are not always +what they ought to be." + +Shelton looked at her; she was seated at her writing-table, +addressing in her large, free writing a dinner invitation to a +bishop. There was not the faintest trace of awkwardness about her, +yet Shelton could not help a certain sense of shock. If she--she-- +did not think things were what they ought to be--in a bad way things +must be indeed! + +"Things!" he muttered. + +Mrs. Dennant looked at him firmly but kindly with the eyes that would +remind him of a hare's. + +"She showed me some of your letters, you know. Well, it 's not a bit +of use denyin', my dear Dick, that you've been thinkin' too much +lately." + +Shelton perceived that he had done her an injustice; she handled +"things" as she handled under-gardeners--put them away when they +showed signs of running to extremes. + +"I can't help that, I 'm afraid," he answered. + +"My dear boy! you'll never get on that way. Now, I want you to +promise me you won't talk to Antonia about those sort of things." + +Shelton raised his eyebrows. + +"Oh, you know what I mean!" + +He saw that to press Mrs. Dennant to say what she meant by "things" +would really hurt her sense of form; it would be cruel to force her +thus below the surface! + +He therefore said, "Quite so!" + +To his extreme surprise, flushing the peculiar arid pathetic flush of +women past their prime, she drawled out: + +"About the poor--and criminals--and marriages--there was that +wedding, don't you know?" + +Shelton bowed his head. Motherhood had been too strong for her; in +her maternal flutter she had committed the solecism of touching in so +many words on "things." + +"Does n't she really see the fun," he thought, "in one man dining out +of gold and another dining in the gutter; or in two married people +living on together in perfect discord 'pour encourages les autres', +or in worshipping Jesus Christ and claiming all her rights at the +same time; or in despising foreigners because they are foreigners; or +in war; or in anything that is funny?" But he did her a certain +amount of justice by recognising that this was natural, since her +whole life had been passed in trying not to see the fun in all these +things. + +But Antonia stood smiling in the doorway. Brilliant and gay she +looked, yet resentful, as if she knew they had been talking of her. +She sat down by Shelton's side, and began asking him about the +youthful foreigner whom he had spoken of; and her eyes made him doubt +whether she, too, saw the fun that lay in one human being patronising +others. + +"But I suppose he's really good," she said, "I mean, all those things +he told you about were only---" + +"Good!" he answered, fidgeting; "I don't really know what the word +means." + +Her eyes clouded. "Dick, how can you?" they seemed to say. + +Shelton stroked her sleeve. + +"Tell us about Mr. Crocker," she said, taking no heed of his caress. + +"The lunatic!" he said. + +"Lunatic! Why, in your letters he was splendid." + +"So he is," said Shelton, half ashamed; "he's not a bit mad, really +--that is, I only wish I were half as mad." + +"Who's that mad?" queried Mrs. Dennant from behind the urn--"Tom +Crocker? Ah, yes! I knew his mother; she was a Springer." + +"Did he do it in the week?" said Thea, appearing in the window with a +kitten. + +"I don't know," Shelton was obliged to answer. + +Thea shook back her hair. + +"I call it awfully slack of you not to have found out," she said. + +Antonia frowned. + +"You were very sweet to that young foreigner, Dick," she murmured +with a smile at Shelton. "I wish that we could see him." + +But Shelton shook his head. + +"It seems to me," he muttered, "that I did about as little for him as +I could." + +Again her face grew thoughtful, as though his words had chilled her. + +"I don't see what more you could have done," she answered. + +A desire to get close to her, half fear, half ache, a sense of +futility and bafflement, an inner burning, made him feel as though a +flame were licking at his heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +ENGLISH + +Just as Shelton was starting to walk back to Oxford he met Mr. +Dennant coming from a ride. Antonia's father was a spare man of +medium height, with yellowish face, grey moustache, ironical +eyebrows, and some tiny crow's-feet. In his old, short grey coat, +with a little slit up the middle of the back, his drab cord breeches, +ancient mahogany leggings, and carefully blacked boats, he had a dry, +threadbare quality not without distinction. + +"Ah, Shelton!" he said, in his quietly festive voice; "glad to see +the pilgrim here, at last. You're not off already?" and, laying his +hand on Shelton's arm, he proposed to walk a little way with him +across the fields. + +This was the first time they had met since the engagement; and +Shelton began to nerve himself to express some sentiment, however +bald, about it. He squared his shoulders, cleared his throat, and +looked askance at Mr. Dennant. That gentleman was walking stiffly, +his cord breeches faintly squeaking. He switched a yellow, jointed +cane against his leggings, and after each blow looked at his legs +satirically. He himself was rather like that yellow cane-pale, and +slim, and jointed, with features arching just a little, like the +arching of its handle. + +"They say it'll be a bad year for fruit," Shelton said at last. + +"My dear fellow, you don't know your farmer, I 'm afraid. We ought +to hang some farmers--do a world of good. Dear souls! I've got some +perfect strawberries." + +"I suppose," said Shelton, glad to postpone the evil moment, "in a +climate like this a man must grumble." + +"Quite so, quite so! Look at us poor slaves of land-owners; if I +couldn't abuse the farmers I should be wretched. Did you ever see +anything finer than this pasture? And they want me to lower their +rents!" + +And Mr. Dennant's glance satirically wavered, rested on Shelton, and +whisked back to the ground as though he had seen something that +alarmed him. There was a pause. + +"Now for it!" thought the younger man. + +Mr. Dennant kept his eyes fixed on his boots. + +"If they'd said, now," he remarked jocosely, "that the frost had +nipped the partridges, there 'd have been some sense in it; but what +can you expect? They've no consideration, dear souls!" + +Shelton took a breath, and, with averted eyes, he hurriedly began: + +"It's awfully hard, sir, to---" + +Mr. Dennant switched his cane against his shin. + +"Yes," he said, "it 's awfully hard to put up with, but what can a +fellow do? One must have farmers. Why, if it was n't for the +farmers, there 'd be still a hare or two about the place!" + +Shelton laughed spasmodically; again he glanced askance at his future +father-in-law. What did the waggling of his head mean, the deepening +of his crow's-feet, the odd contraction of the mouth? And his eye +caught Mr. Dennant's eye; its expression was queer above the fine, +dry nose (one of the sort that reddens in a wind). + +"I've never had much to do with farmers," he said at last. + +"Have n't you? Lucky fellow! The most--yes, quite the most trying +portion of the human species--next to daughters." + +"Well, sir, you can hardly expect me--" began Shelton. + +"I don't--oh, I don't! D 'you know, I really believe we're in for a +ducking." + +A large black cloud had covered up the sun, and some drops were +spattering on Mr. Dennant's hard felt hat. + +Shelton welcomed the shower; it appeared to him an intervention on +the part of Providence. He would have to say something, but not now, +later. + +"I 'll go on," he said; "I don't mind the rain. But you'd better get +back, sir." + +"Dear me! I've a tenant in this cottage," said Mr. Dennant in his, +leisurely, dry manner "and a beggar he is to poach, too. Least we +can do 's to ask for a little shelter; what do you think?" and +smiling sarcastically, as though deprecating his intention to keep +dry, he rapped on the door of a prosperous-looking cottage. + +It was opened by a girl of Antonia's age and height. + +"Ah, Phoebe! Your father in?" + +"No," replied the girl, fluttering; "father's out, Mr. Dennant." + +"So sorry! Will you let us bide a bit out of the rain?" + +The sweet-looking Phoebe dusted them two chairs, and, curtseying, +left them in the parlour. + +"What a pretty girl!" said Shelton. + +"Yes, she's a pretty girl; half the young fellows are after her, but +she won't leave her father. Oh, he 's a charming rascal is that +fellow!" + +This remark suddenly brought home to Shelton the conviction that he +was further than ever from avoiding the necessity for speaking. He +walked over to the window. The rain. was coming down with fury, +though a golden line far down the sky promised the shower's quick +end. "For goodness' sake," he thought, "let me say something, +however idiotic, and get it over!" But he did not turn; a kind of +paralysis had seized on him. + +"Tremendous heavy rain!" he said at last; "coming down in +waterspouts." + +It would have been just as easy to say: "I believe your daughter to +be the sweetest thing on earth; I love her, and I 'm going to make +her happy!" Just as easy, just about the same amount of breath +required; but he couldn't say it! He watched the rain stream and +hiss against the leaves and churn the dust on the parched road with +its insistent torrent; and he noticed with precision all the details +of the process going on outside how the raindrops darted at the +leaves like spears, and how the leaves shook themselves free a +hundred times a minute, while little runnels of water, ice-clear, +rolled over their edges, soft and quick. He noticed, too, the +mournful head of a sheltering cow that was chewing at the hedge. + +Mr. Dennant had not replied to his remark about the rain. So +disconcerting was this silence that Shelton turned. His future +father-in-law, upon his wooden chair, was staring at his well-blacked +boots, bending forward above his parted knees, and prodding at the +carpet; a glimpse at his face disturbed Shelton's resolution. It was +not forbidding, stern, discouraging--not in the least; it had merely +for the moment ceased to look satirical. This was so startling that +Shelton lost his chance of speaking. There seemed a heart to Mr. +Dennant's gravity; as though for once he were looking grave because +he felt so. But glancing up at Shelton, his dry jocosity reappeared +at once. + +"What a day for ducks!" he said; and again there was unmistakable +alarm about the eye. Was it possible that he, too, dreaded +something? + +"I can't express---" began Shelton hurriedly. + +"Yes, it's beastly to get wet," said Mr. Dennant, and he sang-- + + "For we can wrestle and fight, my boys, + And jump out anywhere." + +"You 'll be with us for that dinner-party next week, eh? Capital! +There's the Bishop of Blumenthal and old Sir Jack Buckwell; I must +get my wife to put you between them---" + + "For it's my delight of a starry night--" + +"The Bishop's a great anti-divorce man, and old Buckwell 's been in +the court at least twice---" + + "In the season of the year!" + +"Will you please to take some tea, gentlemen?" said the voice of +Phoebe in the doorway. + +"No, thank you, Phoebe. That girl ought to get married," went on Mr. +Dennant, as Phoebe blushingly withdrew. A flush showed queerly on +his sallow cheeks. "A shame to keep her tied like this to her +father's apron-strings--selfish fellow, that!" He looked up sharply, +as if he had made a dangerous remark. + + The keeper he was watching us, + For him we did n't care! + +Shelton suddenly felt certain that Antonia's father was just as +anxious to say something expressive of his feelings, and as unable as +himself. And this was comforting. + +"You know, sir---" he began. + +But Mr. Dennant's eyebrows rose, his crow's-feet twinkled; his +personality seemed to shrink together. + +"By Jove!" he said, "it's stopped! Now's our chance! Come along, +my dear fellow; delays are dangerous!" and with his bantering +courtesy he held the door for Shelton to pass out. "I think we'll +part here," he said--"I almost think so. Good luck to you!" + +He held out his dry, yellow hand. Shelton seized it, wrung it hard, +and muttered the word: + +"Grateful!" + +Again Mr. Dennant's eyebrows quivered as if they had been tweaked; he +had been found out, and he disliked it. The colour in his face had +died away; it was calm, wrinkled, dead-looking under the flattened, +narrow brim of his black hat; his grey moustache drooped thinly; the +crow's-feet hardened round his eyes; his nostrils were distended by +the queerest smile. + +"Gratitude!" he said; "almost a vice, is n't it? Good-night!" + +Shelton's face quivered; he raised his hat, and, turning as abruptly +as his senior, proceeded on his way. He had been playing in a comedy +that could only have been played in England. He could afford to +smile now at his past discomfort, having no longer the sense of duty +unfulfilled. Everything had been said that was right and proper to +be said, in the way that we such things should say. No violence had +been done; he could afford to smile--smile at himself, at Mr. +Dennant, at to-morrow; smile at the sweet aroma of the earth, the +shy, unwilling sweetness that only rain brings forth. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE COUNTRY HOUSE + +The luncheon hour at Holm Oaks, was, as in many well-bred country +houses--out of the shooting season, be it understood--the soulful +hour. The ferment of the daily doings was then at its full height, +and the clamour of its conversation on the weather, and the dogs, the +horses, neighbours, cricket, golf, was mingled with a literary +murmur; for the Dennants were superior, and it was quite usual to +hear remarks like these "Have you read that charmin' thing of +Poser's?" or, "Yes, I've got the new edition of old Bablington: +delightfully bound--so light." And it was in July that Holm Oaks, as +a gathering-place of the elect, was at its best. For in July it had +become customary to welcome there many of those poor souls from +London who arrived exhausted by the season, and than whom no +seamstress in a two-pair back could better have earned a holiday. +The Dennants themselves never went to London for the season. It was +their good pleasure not to. A week or fortnight of it satisfied +them. They had a radical weakness for fresh air, and Antonia, even +after her presentation two seasons back, had insisted on returning +home, stigmatising London balls as "stuffy things." + +When Shelton arrived the stream had only just begun, but every day +brought fresh, or rather jaded, people to occupy the old, dark, +sweet-smelling bedrooms. Individually, he liked his fellow-guests, +but he found himself observing them. He knew that, if a man judged +people singly, almost all were better than himself; only when judged +in bulk were they worthy of the sweeping criticisms he felt inclined +to pass on them. He knew this just as he knew that the conventions, +having been invented to prevent man following his natural desires, +were merely the disapproving sums of innumerable individual +approvals. + +It was in the bulk; then, that he found himself observing. But with +his amiability and dread of notoriety he remained to all appearance a +well-bred, docile creature, and he kept his judgments to himself. + +In the matter of intellect he made a rough division of the guests-- +those who accepted things without a murmur, those who accepted them +with carping jocularity; in the matter of morals he found they all +accepted things without the semblance of a kick. To show sign of +private moral judgment was to have lost your soul, and, worse, to be +a bit of an outsider. He gathered this by intuition rather than from +conversation; for conversation naturally tabooed such questions, and +was carried on in the loud and cheerful tones peculiar to people of +good breeding. Shelton had never been able to acquire this tone, and +he could not help feeling that the inability made him more or less an +object of suspicion. The atmosphere struck him as it never had +before, causing him to feel a doubt of his gentility. Could a man +suffer from passion, heart-searchings, or misgivings, and remain a +gentleman? It seemed improbable. One of his fellow-guests, a man +called Edgbaston, small-eyed and semi-bald, with a dark moustache and +a distinguished air of meanness, disconcerted him one day by +remarking of an unknown person, "A half-bred lookin' chap; did n't +seem to know his mind." Shelton was harassed by a horrid doubt. + +Everything seemed divided into classes, carefully docketed and +valued. For instance, a Briton was of more value than a man, and +wives than women. Those things or phases of life with which people +had no personal acquaintance were regarded with a faint amusement and +a certain disapproval. The principles of the upper class, in fact, +were strictly followed. + +He was in that hypersenstive and nervous state favourable for +recording currents foreign to itself. Things he had never before +noticed now had profound effect on him, such as the tone in which men +spoke of women--not precisely with hostility, nor exactly with +contempt best, perhaps, described as cultured jeering; never, of +course, when men spoke of their own wives, mothers, sisters, or +immediate friends, but merely when they spoke of any other women. He +reflected upon this, and came to the conclusion that, among the upper +classes, each man's own property was holy, while other women were +created to supply him with gossip, jests, and spice. Another thing +that struck him was the way in which the war then going on was made +into an affair of class. In their view it was a baddish business, +because poor hack Blank and Peter Blank-Blank had lost their lives, +and poor Teddy Blank had now one arm instead of two. Humanity in +general was omitted, but not the upper classes, nor, incidentally, +the country which belonged to them. For there they were, all seated +in a row, with eyes fixed on the horizon of their lawns. + +Late one evening, billiards and music being over and the ladies gone, +Shelton returned from changing to his smoking-suit, and dropped into +one of the great arm-chairs that even in summer made a semicircle +round the fendered hearth. Fresh from his good-night parting with +Antonia, he sat perhaps ten minutes before he began to take in all +the figures in their parti-coloured smoking jackets, cross-legged, +with glasses in their hands, and cigars between their teeth. + +The man in the next chair roused him by putting down his tumbler with +a tap, and seating himself upon the cushioned fender. Through the +mist of smoke, with shoulders hunched, elbows and knees crooked out, +cigar protruding, beak-ways, below his nose, and the crimson collar +of his smoking jacket buttoned close as plumage on his breast, he +looked a little like a gorgeous bird. + +"They do you awfully well," he said. + +A voice from the chair on Shelton's right replied, + +"They do you better at Verado's." + +"The Veau d'Or 's the best place; they give you Turkish baths for +nothing!" drawled a fat man with a tiny mouth. + +The suavity of this pronouncement enfolded all as with a blessing. +And at once, as if by magic, in the old, oak-panelled room, the world +fell naturally into its three departments: that where they do you +well; that where they do you better; and that where they give you +Turkish baths for nothing. + +"If you want Turkish baths," said a tall youth with clean red face, +who had come into the room, and stood, his mouth a little open, and +long feet jutting with sweet helplessness in front of him, "you +should go, you know, to Buda Pesth; most awfully rippin' there." + +Shelton saw an indescribable appreciation rise on every face, as +though they had been offered truffles or something equally delicious. + +"Oh no, Poodles," said the man perched on the fender. "A Johnny I +know tells me they 're nothing to Sofia." His face was transfigured +by the subtle gloating of a man enjoying vice by proxy. + +"Ah!" drawled the small-mouthed man, "there 's nothing fit to hold a +candle to Baghda-ad." + +Once again his utterance enfolded all as with a blessing, and once +again the world fell into its three departments: that where they do +you well; that where they do you better; and--Baghdad. + +Shelton thought to himself: "Why don't I know a place that's better +than Baghdad?" + +He felt so insignificant. It seemed that he knew none of these +delightful spots; that he was of no use to any of his fellow-men; +though privately he was convinced that all these speakers were as. +ignorant as himself, and merely found it warming to recall such +things as they had heard, with that peculiar gloating look. Alas! +his anecdotes would never earn for him that prize of persons in +society, the label of a "good chap" and "sportsman." + +"Have you ever been in Baghdad?" he feebly asked. + +The fat man did not answer; he had begun an anecdote, and in his +broad expanse of face his tiny mouth writhed like a caterpillar. The +anecdote was humorous. + +With the exception of Antonia, Shelton saw but little of the ladies, +for, following the well-known custom of the country house, men and +women avoided each other as much as might be. They met at meals, and +occasionally joined in tennis and in croquet; otherwise it seemed-- +almost Orientally--agreed that they were better kept apart. + +Chancing one day to enter the withdrawing room, while searching for +Antonia, he found that he had lighted on a feminine discussion; he +would have beaten a retreat, of course, but it seemed too obvious +that he was merely looking for his fiancee, so, sitting down, he +listened. + +The Honourable Charlotte Penguin, still knitting a silk tie--the +sixth since that she had been knitting at Hyeres--sat on the low +window-seat close to a hydrangea, the petals of whose round flowers +almost kissed her sanguine cheek. Her eyes were fixed with languid +aspiration on the lady who was speaking. This was a square woman of +medium height, with grey hair brushed from her low forehead, the +expression of whose face was brisk and rather cross. She was +standing with a book, as if delivering a sermon. Had she been a man +she might have been described as a bright young man of business; for, +though grey, she never could be old, nor ever lose the power of +forming quick decisions. Her features and her eyes were prompt and +slightly hard, tinged with faith fanatical in the justice of her +judgments, and she had that fussy simpleness of dress which indicates +the right to meddle. Not red, not white, neither yellow nor quite +blue, her complexion was suffused with a certain mixture of these +colours, adapted to the climate; and her smile had a strange sour +sweetness, like nothing but the flavour of an apple on the turn. + +"I don't care what they tell you," she was saying--not offensively, +though her voice seemed to imply that she had no time to waste in +pleasing--" in all my dealings with them I've found it best to treat +them quite like children." + +A lady, behind the Times, smiled; her mouth--indeed, her whole hard, +handsome face--was reminiscent of dappled rocking-horses found in the +Soho Bazaar. She crossed her feet, and some rich and silk stuff +rustled. Her whole personality seemed to creak as, without looking, +she answered in harsh tones: + +"I find the poor are most delightful persons." + +Sybil Dennant, seated on the sofa, with a feathery laugh shot a +barking terrier dog at Shelton. + +"Here's Dick," she said. "Well, Dick, what's your opinion?" + +Shelton looked around him, scared. The elder ladies who had spoken +had fixed their eyes on him, and in their gaze he read his utter +insignificance. + +"Oh, that young man!" they seemed to say. "Expect a practical remark +from him? Now, come!" + +"Opinion," he stammered, "of the poor? I haven't any." + +The person on her feet, whose name was Mrs. Mattock, directing her +peculiar sweet-sour smile at the distinguished lady with the Times, +said: + +"Perhaps you 've not had experience of them in London, Lady +Bonington?" + +Lady Bonington, in answer, rustled. + +"Oh, do tell us about the slums, Mrs. Mattock!" cried Sybil. + +"Slumming must be splendid! It's so deadly here--nothing but flannel +petticoats." + +"The poor, my dear," began Mrs. Mattock, "are not the least bit what +you think them---" + +"Oh, d' you know, I think they're rather nice!" broke in Aunt +Charlotte close to the hydrangea. + +"You think so?" said Mrs. Mattock sharply. "I find they do nothing +but grumble." + +"They don't grumble at me: they are delightful persons", and Lady +Bonington gave Shelton a grim smile. + +He could not help thinking that to grumble in the presence of that +rich, despotic personality would require a superhuman courage. + +"They're the most ungrateful people in the world," said Mrs. Mattock. + +"Why, then," thought Shelton, "do you go amongst them?" + +She continued, "One must do them good, one, must do one's duty, but +as to getting thanks---" + +Lady Bonington sardonically said, + +"Poor things! they have a lot to bear." + +"The little children!" murmured Aunt Charlotte, with a flushing +cheek and shining eyes; "it 's rather pathetic." + +"Children indeed!" said Mrs. Mattock. "It puts me out of all +patience to see the way that they neglect them. People are so +sentimental about the poor." + +Lady Bonington creaked again. Her splendid shoulders were wedged +into her chair; her fine dark hair, gleaming with silver, sprang back +upon her brow; a ruby bracelet glowed on the powerful wrist that held +the journal; she rocked her copper-slippered foot. She did not +appear to be too sentimental. + +"I know they often have a very easy time," said Mrs. Mattock, as if +some one had injured her severely. And Shelton saw, not without +pity, that Fate had scored her kind and squashed-up face with +wrinkles, whose tiny furrows were eloquent of good intentions +frustrated by the unpractical and discontented poor. "Do what you +will, they are never satisfied; they only resent one's help, or else +they take the help and never thank you for it!" + +"Oh!" murmured Aunt Charlotte, "that's rather hard." + +Shelton had been growing, more uneasy. He said abruptly: + +"I should do the same if I were they." + +Mrs. Mattock's brown eyes flew at him; Lady Bonington spoke to the +Times; her ruby bracelet and a bangle jingled. + +"We ought to put ourselves in their places." + +Shelton could not help a smile; Lady Bonington in the places of the +poor! + +"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Mattock, "I put myself entirely in their place. +I quite understand their feelings. But ingratitude is a repulsive +quality." + +"They seem unable to put themselves in your place," murmured Shelton; +and in a fit of courage he took the room in with a sweeping glance. + +Yes, that room was wonderfully consistent, with its air of perfect +second-handedness, as if each picture, and each piece of furniture, +each book, each lady present, had been made from patterns. They were +all widely different, yet all (like works of art seen in some +exhibitions) had the look of being after the designs of some original +spirit. The whole room was chaste, restrained, derived, practical, +and comfortable; neither in virtue nor in work, neither in manner, +speech, appearance, nor in theory, could it give itself away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE STAINED-GLASS MAN + +Still looking for Antonia, Shelton went up to the morning-room. Thea +Dennant and another girl were seated in the window, talking. From +the look they gave him he saw that he had better never have been +born; he hastily withdrew. Descending to the hall, he came on Mr. +Dennant crossing to his study, with a handful of official-looking +papers. + +"Ah, Shelton!" said he, "you look a little lost. Is the shrine +invisible?" + +Shelton grinned, said "Yes," and went on looking. He was not +fortunate. In the dining-room sat Mrs. Dennant, making up her list +of books. + +"Do give me your opinion, Dick," she said. "Everybody 's readin' +this thing of Katherine Asterick's; I believe it's simply because +she's got a title." + +"One must read a book for some reason or other," answered Shelton. + +"Well," returned Mrs. Dennant, "I hate doin' things just because +other people do them, and I sha'n't get it." + +"Good!" + +Mrs. Dennant marked the catalogue. + +"Here 's Linseed's last, of course; though I must say I don't care +for him, but I suppose we ought to have it in the house. And there's +Quality's 'The Splendid Diatribes': that 's sure to be good, he's +always so refined. But what am I to do about this of Arthur Baal's? +They say that he's a charlatan, but everybody reads him, don't you +know"; and over the catalogue Shelton caught the gleam of hare-like +eyes. + +Decision had vanished from her face, with its arched nose and +slightly sloping chin, as though some one had suddenly appealed to +her to trust her instincts. It was quite pathetic. Still, there was +always the book's circulation to form her judgment by. + +"I think I 'd better mark it," she said, "don't you? Were you +lookin' for Antonia? If you come across Bunyan in the garden, Dick, +do say I want to see him; he's gettin' to be a perfect nuisance. I +can understand his feelin's, but really he 's carryin' it too far." + +Primed with his message to the under-gardener, Shelton went. He took +a despairing look into the billiard-room. Antonia was not there. +Instead, a tall and fat-cheeked gentleman with a neat moustache, +called Mabbey, was practising the spot-stroke. He paused as Shelton +entered, and, pouting like a baby, asked in a sleepy voice, + +"Play me a hundred up?" + +Shelton shook his head, stammered out his sorrow, and was about to +go. + +The gentleman called Mabbey, plaintively feeling the places where his +moustaches joined his pink and glossy cheeks, asked with an air of +some surprise, + +"What's your general game, then?" + +"I really don't know," said Shelton. + +The gentleman called Mabbey chalked his cue, and, moving his round, +knock-kneed legs in their tight trousers, took up his position for +the stroke. + +"What price that?" he said, as he regained the perpendicular; and his +well-fed eyes followed Shelton with sleepy inquisition. "Curious +dark horse, Shelton," they seemed to say. + +Shelton hurried out, and was about to run down the lower lawn, when +he was accosted by another person walking in the sunshine--a slight- +built man in a turned-down collar, with a thin and fair moustache, +and a faint bluish tint on one side of his high forehead, caused by a +network of thin veins. His face had something of the youthful, +optimistic, stained-glass look peculiar to the refined English type. +He walked elastically, yet with trim precision, as if he had a +pleasant taste in furniture and churches, and held the Spectator in +his hand. + +"Ah, Shelton! "he said in high-tuned tones, halting his legs in such +an easy attitude that it was impossible to interrupt it: "come to +take the air?" + +Shelton's own brown face, nondescript nose, and his amiable but +dogged chin contrasted strangely with the clear-cut features of the +stained-glass man. + +"I hear from Halidome that you're going to stand for Parliament," the +latter said. + +Shelton, recalling Halidome's autocratic manner of settling other +people's business, smiled. + +"Do I look like it?" he asked. + +The eyebrows quivered on the stained-glass man. It had never +occurred to him, perhaps, that to stand for Parliament a man must +look like it; he examined Shelton with some curiosity. + +"Ah, well," he said, "now you mention it, perhaps not." His eyes, so +carefully ironical, although they differed from the eyes of Mabbey, +also seemed to ask of Shelton what sort of a dark horse he was. + +"You 're still in the Domestic Office, then?" asked Shelton. + +The stained-glass man stooped to sniff a rosebush. "Yes," he said; +"it suits me very well. I get lots of time for my art work." + +"That must be very interesting," said Shelton, whose glance was +roving for Antonia; "I never managed to begin a hobby." + +"Never had a hobby!" said the stained-glass man, brushing back his +hair (he was walking with no hat); "why, what the deuce d' you do?" + +Shelton could not answer; the idea had never troubled him. + +"I really don't know," he said, embarrassed; "there's always +something going on, as far as I can see." + +The stained-glass man placed his hands within his pockets, and his +bright glance swept over his companion. + +"A fellow must have a hobby to give him an interest in life," he +said. + +"An interest in life?" repeated Shelton grimly; "life itself is good +enough for me." + +"Oh!" replied the stained-glass man, as though he disapproved of +regarding life itself as interesting. + +"That's all very well, but you want something more than that. Why +don't you take up woodcarving?" + +"Wood-carving?" + +"The moment I get fagged with office papers and that sort of thing I +take up my wood-carving; good as a game of hockey." + +"I have n't the enthusiasm." + +The eyebrows of the stained-glass man twitched; he twisted his +moustache. + +"You 'll find not having a hobby does n't pay," he said; "you 'll get +old, then where 'll you be?" + +It came as a surprise that he should use the words "it does n't pay," +for he had a kind of partially enamelled look, like that modern +jewellery which really seems unconscious of its market value. + +"You've given up the Bar? Don't you get awfully bored having nothing +to do?" pursued the stained-glass man, stopping before an ancient +sundial. + +Shelton felt a delicacy, as a man naturally would, in explaining that +being in love was in itself enough to do. To do nothing is unworthy +of a man! But he had never felt as yet the want of any occupation. +His silence in no way disconcerted his acquaintance. + +"That's a nice old article of virtue," he said, pointing with his +chin; and, walking round the sundial, he made its acquaintance from +the other side. Its grey profile cast a thin and shortening shadow +on the turf; tongues of moss were licking at its sides; the daisies +clustered thick around its base; it had acquired a look of growing +from the soil. "I should like to get hold of that," the stained- +glass man remarked; "I don't know when I 've seen a better specimen," +and he walked round it once again. + +His eyebrows were still ironically arched, but below them his eyes +were almost calculating, and below them, again, his mouth had opened +just a little. A person with a keener eye would have said his face +looked greedy, and even Shelton was surprised, as though he had read +in the Spectator a confession of commercialism. + +"You could n't uproot a thing like that," he said; "it would lose all +its charm." + +His companion turned impatiently, and his countenance looked +wonderfully genuine. + +"Couldn't I?" he said. "By Jove! I thought so. 1690! The best +period." He ran his forger round the sundial's edge. "Splendid +line-clean as the day they made it. You don't seem to care much +about that sort of thing"; and once again, as though accustomed to +the indifference of Vandals, his face regained its mask. + +They strolled on towards the kitchen gardens, Shelton still busy +searching every patch of shade. He wanted to say "Can't stop," and +hurry off; but there was about the stained-glass man a something +that, while stinging Shelton's feelings, made the showing of them +quite impossible. "Feelings!" that person seemed to say; "all very +well, but you want more than that. Why not take up wood-carving? + . . . . Feelings! I was born in England, and have been at +Cambridge." + +"Are you staying long?" he asked Shelton. "I go on to Halidome's +to-morrow; suppose I sha'n't see you there? Good, chap, old +Halidome! Collection of etchings very fine!" + +"No; I 'm staying on," said Shelton. + +"Ah!" said the stained-glass man, "charming people, the Dennants!" + +Shelton, reddening slowly, turned his head away; he picked a +gooseberry, and muttered, "Yes." + +"The eldest girl especially; no nonsense about her. I thought she +was a particularly nice girl." + +Shelton heard this praise of Antonia with an odd sensation; it gave +him the reverse of pleasure, as though the words had cast new light +upon her. He grunted hastily, + +"I suppose you know that we 're engaged?" + +"Really!" said the stained-glass man, and again his bright, clear, +iron-committal glance swept over Shelton--"really! I didn't know. +Congratulate you!" + +It was as if he said: "You're a man of taste; I should say she would +go well in almost any drawing-room!" + +"Thanks," said Shelton; "there she' is. If you'll excuse me, I want +to speak to her." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +PARADISE + +Antonia, in a sunny angle of the old brick wall, amid the pinks and +poppies and cornflowers, was humming to herself. Shelton saw the +stained-glass man pass out of sight, then, unobserved, he watched her +smelling at the flowers, caressing her face with each in turn, +casting away spoiled blossoms, and all the time humming that soft +tune. + +In two months, or three, all barriers between himself and this +inscrutable young Eve would break; she would be a part of him, and he +a part of her; he would know all her thoughts, and she all his; +together they would be as one, and all would think of them, and talk +of them, as one; and this would come about by standing half an hour +together in a church, by the passing of a ring, and the signing of +their names. + +The sun was burnishing her hair--she wore no hat flushing her cheeks, +sweetening and making sensuous her limbs; it had warmed her through +and through, so that, like the flowers and bees, the sunlight and the +air, she was all motion, light, and colour. + +She turned and saw Shelton standing there. + +"Oh, Dick!" she said: "Lend me your hand-kerchief to put these +flowers in, there 's a good boy!" + +Her candid eyes, blue as the flowers in her hands, were clear and +cool as ice, but in her smile was all the warm profusion of that +corner; the sweetness had soaked into her, and was welling forth +again. The sight of those sun-warmed cheeks, and fingers twining +round the flower-stalks, her pearly teeth, and hair all fragrant, +stole the reason out of Shelton. He stood before her, weak about the +knees. + +"Found you at last!" he said. + +Curving back her neck, she cried out, "Catch!" and with a sweep of +both her hands flung the flowers into Shelton's arms. + +Under the rain of flowers, all warm and odorous, he dropped down on +his knees, and put them one by one together, smelling at the pinks, +to hide the violence of his feelings. Antonia went on picking +flowers, and every time her hand was full she dropped them on his +hat, his shoulder, or his arms, and went on plucking more; she +smiled, and on her lips a little devil danced, that seemed to know +what he was suffering. And Shelton felt that she did know. + +"Are you tired?" she asked; "there are heaps more wanted. These are +the bedroom-flowers--fourteen lots. I can't think how people can +live without flowers, can you?" and close above his head she buried +her face in pinks. + +He kept his eyes on the plucked flowers before him on the grass, and +forced himself to answer, + +"I think I can hold out." + +"Poor old Dick!" She had stepped back. The sun lit the clear-cut +profile of her cheek, and poured its gold over the bosom of her +blouse. "Poor old Dick! Awfully hard luck, is n't it?" Burdened +with mignonette, she came so close again that now she touched his +shoulder, but Shelton did not look; breathless, with wildly beating +heart, he went on sorting out the flowers. The seeds of mignonette +rained on his neck, and as she let the blossoms fall, their perfume +fanned his face. "You need n't sort them out!" she said. + +Was she enticing him? He stole a look; but she was gone again, +swaying and sniffing at the flowers. + +"I suppose I'm only hindering you," he growled; "I 'd better go." + +She laughed. + +"I like to see you on your knees, you look so funny!" and as she +spoke she flung a clove carnation at him. "Does n't it smell good?" + +"Too good Oh, Antonia! why are you doing this?" + +" Why am I doing what?" + +"Don't you know what you are doing?" + +"Why, picking flowers!" and once more she was back, bending and +sniffing at the blossoms. + +"That's enough." + +"Oh no," she called; "it's not not nearly. + +"Keep on putting them together, if you love me." + +"You know I love you," answered Shelton, in a smothered voice. + +Antonia gazed at him across her shoulder; puzzled and inquiring was +her face. + +"I'm not a bit like you," she said. "What will you have for your +room?" + +"Choose!" + +"Cornflowers and clove pinks. Poppies are too frivolous, and pinks +too---" + +"White," said Shelton. + +"And mignonette too hard and---" + +"Sweet. Why cornflowers?" + +Antonia stood before him with her hands against her sides; her figure +was so slim and young, her face uncertain and so grave. + +"Because they're dark and deep." + +"And why clove pinks?" + +Antonia did not answer. + +"And why clove pinks?" + +"Because," she said, and, flushing, touched a bee that had settled on +her skirt, "because of something in you I don't understand." + +"Ah! And what flowers shall t give YOU?" + +She put her hands behind her. + +"There are all the other flowers for me." + +Shelton snatched from the mass in front of him an Iceland poppy with +straight stem and a curved neck, white pinks, and sprigs of hard, +sweet mignonette, and held it out to her. + +"There," he said, "that's you." But Antonia did not move. + +"Oh no, it is n't!" and behind her back her fingers slowly crushed +the petals of a blood-red poppy. She shook her head, smiling a +brilliant smile. The blossoms fell, he flung his arms around her, +and kissed her on the lips. + +But his hands dropped; not fear exactly, nor exactly shame, had come +to him. She had not resisted, but he had kissed the smile away; had +kissed a strange, cold, frightened look, into her eyes. + +"She did n't mean to tempt me, then," he thought, in surprise and +anger. "What did she mean?" and, like a scolded dog, he kept his +troubled watch upon her face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE RIDE + +"Where now?" Antonia asked, wheeling her chestnut mare, as they +turned up High Street, Oxford City. "I won't go back the same way, +Dick!" + +"We could have a gallop on Port Meadow, cross the Upper River twice, +and get home that way; but you 'll be tired." + +Antonia shook her head. Aslant her cheek the brim of a straw hat +threw a curve of shade, her ear glowed transparent in the sun. + +A difference had come in their relations since that kiss; outwardly +she was the same good comrade, cool and quick. But as before a +change one feels the subtle difference in the temper of the wind, so +Shelton was affected by the inner change in her. He had made a blot +upon her candour; he had tried to rub it out again, but there was +left a mark, and it was ineffaceable. Antonia belonged to the most +civilised division of the race most civilised in all the world, whose +creed is "Let us love and hate, let us work and marry, but let us +never give ourselves away; to give ourselves away is to leave a mark, +and that is past forgive ness. Let our lives be like our faces, free +from every kind of wrinkle, even those of laughter; in this way alone +can we be really civilised." + +He felt that she was ruffled by a vague discomfort. That he should +give himself away was natural, perhaps, and only made her wonder, but +that he should give her the feeling that she had given herself away +was a very different thing. + +"Do you mind if I just ask at the Bishop's Head for letters?" he +said, as they passed the old hotel. + +A dirty and thin envelope was brought to him, addressed "Mr. Richard +Shelton, Esq.," in handwriting that was passionately clear, as though +the writer had put his soul into securing delivery of the letter. It +was dated three days back, and, as they rode away, Shelton read as +follows: + + IMPERIAL PEACOCK HOTEL, + FOLKESTONE. + +MON CHER MONSIEUR SHELTON, + +This is already the third time I have taken up pen to write to you, +but, having nothing but misfortune to recount, I hesitated, awaiting +better days. Indeed, I have been so profoundly discouraged that if I +had not thought it my duty to let you know of my fortunes I know not +even now if I should have found the necessary spirit. 'Les choses +vont de mal en mal'. From what I hear there has never been so bad a +season here. Nothing going on. All the same, I am tormented by a +mob of little matters which bring me not sufficient to support my +life. I know not what to do; one thing is certain, in no case shall +I return here another year. The patron of this hotel, my good +employer, is one of those innumerable specimens who do not forge or +steal because they have no need, and if they had would lack the +courage; who observe the marriage laws because they have been brought +up to believe in them, and know that breaking them brings risk and +loss of reputation; who do not gamble because they dare not; do not +drink because it disagrees with them; go to church because their +neighbours go, and to procure an appetite for the mid-day meal; +commit no murder because, not transgressing in any other fashion, +they are not obliged. What is there to respect in persons of this +sort? Yet they are highly esteemed, and form three quarters of +Society. The rule with these good gentlemen is to shut their eyes, +never use their thinking powers, and close the door on all the dogs +of life for fear they should get bitten. + +Shelton paused, conscious of Antonia's eyes fixed on him with the +inquiring look that he had come to dread. In that chilly questioning +she seemed to say: "I am waiting. I am prepared to be told things-- +that is, useful things--things that help one to believe without the +risk of too much thinking." + +"It's from that young foreigner," he said; and went on reading to +himself. + +I have eyes, and here I am; I have a nose 'pour, flairer le humbug'. +I see that amongst the value of things nothing is the equal of "free +thought." Everything else they can take from me, 'on ne pent pas +m'oter cela'! I see no future for me here, and certainly should have +departed long ago if I had had the money, but, as I have already told +you, all that I can do barely suffices to procure me 'de quoi vivre'. +'Je me sens ecceuye'. Do not pay too much attention to my Jeremiads; +you know what a pessimist I am. 'Je ne perds pas courage'. + +Hoping that you are well, and in the cordial pressing of your hand, I +subscribe myself, + + Your very devoted + + LOUIS FERRAND. + + +He rode with the letter open in his hand, frowning at the curious +turmoil which Ferrand excited in his heart. It was as though this +foreign vagrant twanged within him a neglected string, which gave +forth moans of a mutiny. + +"What does he say?" Antonia asked. + +Should he show it to her? If he might not, what should he do when +they were married? + +"I don't quite know," he said at last; "it 's not particularly +cheering."' + +"What is he like, Dick--I mean, to look at? Like a gentleman, or +what?" + +Shelton stifled a desire to laugh. + +"He looks very well in a frock-coat," he replied; "his father was a +wine merchant." + +Antonia flicked her whip against her skirt. + +"Of course," she murmured, "I don't want to hear if there's anything +I ought not." + +But instead of soothing Shelton, these words had just the opposite +effect. His conception of the ideal wife was not that of one from +whom the half of life must be excluded. + +"It's only," he stammered again, "that it's not cheerful." + +"Oh, all right!" she cried, and, touching her horse, flew off in +front. "I hate dismal things." + +Shelton bit his lips. It was not his fault that half the world was +dark. He knew her words were loosed against himself, and, as always +at a sign of her displeasure, was afraid. He galloped after her on +the scorched turf. + +" What is it?" he said. "You 're angry with me!" + +"Oh no!" + +"Darling, I can't help it if things are n't cheerful. We have eyes," +he added, quoting from the letter. + +Antonia did not look at him; but touched her horse again. + +"Well, I don't want to see the gloomy side," she said, "and I can't +see why YOU should. It's wicked to be discontented"; and she +galloped off. + +It was not his fault if there were a thousand different kinds of men, +a thousand different points of view, outside the fence of her +experience! "What business," he thought, digging in his dummy spurs, +"has our class to patronise? We 're the only people who have n't an +idea of what life really means." Chips of dried turf and dust came +flying back, stinging his face. He gained on her, drew almost within +reach, then, as though she had been playing with him, was left +hopelessly behind. + +She stooped under the far hedge, fanning her flushed face with dock- +leaves: + +"Aha, Dick! I knew you'd never catch me" and she patted the chestnut +mare, who turned her blowing muzzle with contemptuous humour towards +Shelton's steed, while her flanks heaved rapturously, gradually +darkening with sweat. + +"We'd better take them steadily," grunted Shelton, getting off and +loosening his girths, "if we mean to get home at all." + +"Don't be cross, Dick!" + +"We oughtn't to have galloped them like this; they 're not in +condition. We'd better go home the way we came." + +Antonia dropped the reins, and straightened her back hair. + +"There 's no fun in that," she said. "Out and back again; I hate a +dog's walk." + +"Very well," said Shelton; he would have her longer to himself! + +The road led up and up a hill, and from the top a vision of Saxonia +lay disclosed in waves of wood and pasture. Their way branched down +a gateless glade, and Shelton sidled closer till his knee touched the +mare's off-flank. + +Antonia's profile conjured up visions. She was youth itself; her +eyes so brilliant, and so innocent, her cheeks so glowing, and her +brow unruffled; but in her smile and in the setting of her jaw lurked +something resolute and mischievous. Shelton put his hand out to the +mare's mane. + +"What made you promise to marry me?" he said. + +She smiled. + +"Well, what made you?" + +"I?" cried Shelton. + +She slipped her hand over his hand. + +"Oh, Dick!" she said. + +"I want," he stammered, "to be everything to you. Do you think I +shall?" + +"Of course!" + +Of course! The words seemed very much or very little. + +She looked down at the river, gleaming below the glade in a curving +silver line. "Dick, there are such a lot of splendid things that we +might do." + +Did she mean, amongst those splendid things, that they might +understand each other; or were they fated to pretend to only, in the +old time-honoured way? + +They crossed the river by a ferry, and rode a long time in silence, +while the twilight slowly fell behind the aspens. And all the beauty +of the evening, with its restless leaves, its grave young moon, and +lighted campion flowers, was but a part of her; the scents, the +witchery and shadows, the quaint field noises, the yokels' whistling, +and the splash of water-fowl, each seemed to him enchanted. The +flighting bats, the forms of the dim hayricks, and sweet-brier +perfume-she summed them all up in herself. The fingermarks had +deepened underneath her eyes, a languor came upon her; it made her +the more sweet and youthful. Her shoulders seemed to bear on them +the very image of our land--grave and aspiring, eager yet contained-- +before there came upon that land the grin of greed, the folds of +wealth, the simper of content. Fair, unconscious, free! + +And he was silent, with a beating heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE BIRD 'OF PASSAGE + +That night, after the ride, when Shelton was about to go to bed, his +eyes fell on Ferrand's letter, and with a sleepy sense of duty he +began to read it through a second time. In the dark, oak-panelled +bedroom, his four-post bed, with back of crimson damask and its +dainty sheets, was lighted by the candle glow; the copper pitcher of +hot water in the basin, the silver of his brushes, and the line of +his well-polished boots all shone, and Shelton's face alone was +gloomy, staring at the yellowish paper in his hand. + +"The poor chap wants money, of course," he thought. But why go on +for ever helping one who had no claim on him, a hopeless case, +incurable--one whom it was his duty to let sink for the good of the +community at large? Ferrand's vagabond refinement had beguiled him +into charity that should have been bestowed on hospitals, or any +charitable work but foreign missions. To give a helping hand, a bit +of himself, a nod of fellowship to any fellow-being irrespective of a +claim, merely because he happened to be down, was sentimental +nonsense! The line must be drawn! But in the muttering of this +conclusion he experienced a twinge of honesty. "Humbug! You don't +want to part with your money, that's all!" + +So, sitting down in shirt-sleeves at his writing table, he penned the +following on paper stamped with the Holm Oaks address and crest: + +MY DEAR FERRAND, + +I am sorry you are having such a bad spell. You seem to be dead out +of luck. I hope by the time you get this things will have changed +for the better. I should very much like to see you again and have a +talk, but shall be away for some time longer, and doubt even when I +get back whether I should be able to run down and look you up. Keep +me 'au courant' as to your movements. I enclose a cheque. + + Yours sincerely, + + RICHARD SHELTON. + + +Before he had written out the cheque, a moth fluttering round the +candle distracted his attention, and by the time he had caught and +put it out he had forgotten that the cheque was not enclosed. The +letter, removed with his clothes before he was awake, was posted in +an empty state. + +One morning a week later he was sitting in the smoking-room in the +company of the gentleman called Mabbey, who was telling him how many +grouse he had deprived of life on August 12 last year, and how many +he intended to deprive of life on August 12 this year, when the door +was opened, and the butler entered, carrying his head as though it +held some fatal secret. + +"A young man is asking for you, sir," he said to Shelton, bending +down discreetly; "I don't know if you would wish to see him, sir." + +"A young man! "repeated Shelton; "what sort of a young man?" + +"I should say a sort of foreigner, sir," apologetically replied the +butler. "He's wearing a frock-coat, but he looks as if he had been +walking a good deal." + +Shelton rose with haste; the description sounded to him ominous. + +"Where is he?" + +"I put him in the young ladies' little room, sir." + +"All right," said Shelton; "I 'll come and see him. Now, what the +deuce!" he thought, running down the stairs. + +It was with a queer commingling of pleasure and vexation that he +entered the little chamber sacred to the birds, beasts, racquets, +golf-clubs, and general young ladies' litter. Ferrand was standing +underneath the cage of a canary, his hands folded on his pinched-up +hat, a nervous smile upon his lips. He was dressed in Shelton's old +frock-coat, tightly buttoned, and would have cut a stylish figure but +far his look of travel. He wore a pair of pince-nez, too, which +somewhat veiled his cynical blue eyes, and clashed a little with the +pagan look of him. In the midst of the strange surroundings he still +preserved that air of knowing, and being master of, his fate, which +was his chief attraction. + +"I 'm glad to see you," said Shelton, holding out his hand. + +"Forgive this liberty," began Ferrand, "but I thought it due to you +after all you've done for me not to throw up my efforts to get +employment in England without letting you know first. I'm entirely +at the end of my resources." + +The phrase struck Shelton as one that he had heard before. + +"But I wrote to you," he said; "did n't you get my letter?" + +A flicker passed across the vagrant's face; he drew the letter from +his pocket and held it out. + +"Here it is, monsieur." + +Shelton stared at it. + +"Surely," said he, "I sent a cheque?" + +Ferrand did not smile; there was a look about him as though Shelton +by forgetting to enclose that cheque had done him a real injury. + +Shelton could not quite hide a glance of doubt. + +"Of course," he said, "I--I--meant to enclose a cheque." + +Too subtle to say anything, Ferrand curled his lip. "I am capable of +much, but not of that," he seemed to say; and at once Shelton felt +the meanness of his doubt. + +"Stupid of me," he said. + +"I had no intention of intruding here," said Ferrand; "I hoped to see +you in the neighbourhood, but I arrive exhausted with fatigue. I've +eaten nothing since yesterday at noon, and walked thirty miles." He +shrugged his shoulders. "You see, I had no time to lose before +assuring myself whether you were here or not." + +"Of course---" began Shelton, but again he stopped. + +"I should very much like," the young foreigner went on, "for one of +your good legislators to find himself in these country villages with +a penny in his pocket. In other countries bakers are obliged to sell +you an equivalent of bread for a penny; here they won't sell you as +much as a crust under twopence. You don't encourage poverty." + +"What is your idea now?" asked Shelton, trying to gain time. + +"As I told you," replied Ferrand, "there 's nothing to be done at +Folkestone, though I should have stayed there if I had had the money +to defray certain expenses"; and again he seemed to reproach his +patron with the omission of that cheque. "They say things will +certainly be better at the end of the month. Now that I know English +well, I thought perhaps I could procure a situation for teaching +languages." + +"I see," said Shelton. + +As a fact, however, he was far from seeing; he literally did not know +what to do. It seemed so brutal to give Ferrand money and ask him to +clear out; besides, he chanced to have none in his pocket. + +"It needs philosophy to support what I 've gone through this week," +said Ferrand, shrugging his shoulders. "On Wednesday last, when I +received your letter, I had just eighteen-pence, and at once I made a +resolution to come and see you; on that sum I 've done the journey. +My strength is nearly at an end." + +Shelton stroked his chin. + +"Well," he had just begun, "we must think it over," when by Ferrand's +face he saw that some one had come in. He turned, and saw Antonia in +the doorway. "Excuse me," he stammered, and, going to Antonia, drew +her from the room. + +With a smile she said at once: "It's the young foreigner; I'm +certain. Oh, what fun!" + +"Yes," answered Shelton slowly; "he's come to see me about getting +some sort of tutorship or other. Do you think your mother would mind +if I took him up to have a wash? He's had a longish walk. And might +he have some breakfast? He must be hungry." + +"Of course! I'll tell Dobson. Shall I speak to mother? He looks +nice, Dick." + +He gave her a grateful, furtive look, and went back to his guest; an +impulse had made him hide from her the true condition of affairs. + +Ferrand was standing where he had been left his face still clothed in +mordant impassivity. + +"Come up to my room!" said Shelton; and while his guest was washing, +brushing, and otherwise embellishing his person, he stood reflecting +that Ferrand was by no means unpresentable, and he felt quite +grateful to him. + +He took an opportunity, when the young man's back was turned, of +examining his counterfoils. There was no record, naturally, of a +cheque drawn in Ferrand's favour. Shelton felt more mean than ever. + +A message came from Mrs. Dennant; so he took the traveller to the +dining-room and left him there, while he himself went to the lady of +the house. He met Antonia coming down. + +"How many days did you say he went without food that time--you know?" +she asked in passing. + +"Four." + +"He does n't look a bit common, Dick." + +Shelton gazed at her dubiously. + +"They're surely not going to make a show of him!" he thought. + +Mrs. Dennant was writing, in a dark-blue dress starred over with +white spots, whose fine lawn collar was threaded with black velvet. + +"Have you seen the new hybrid Algy's brought me back from Kidstone? +Is n't it charmin'?" and she bent her face towards this perfect rose. +"They say unique; I'm awfully interested to find out if that's true. +I've told Algy I really must have some." + +Shelton thought of the unique hybrid breakfasting downstairs; he +wished that Mrs. Dennant would show in him the interest she had +manifested in the rose. But this was absurd of him, he knew, for the +potent law of hobbies controlled the upper classes, forcing them to +take more interest in birds, and roses, missionaries, or limited and +highly-bound editions of old books (things, in a word, in treating +which you knew exactly where you were) than in the manifestations of +mere life that came before their eyes. + +"Oh, Dick, about that young Frenchman. Antonia says he wants a +tutorship; now, can you really recommend him? There's Mrs. Robinson +at the Gateways wants someone to teach her boys languages; and, if he +were quite satisfactory, it's really time Toddles had a few lessons +in French; he goes to Eton next half." + +Shelton stared at the rose; he had suddenly realised why it was that +people take more interest in roses than in human beings--one could do +it with a quiet heart. + +"He's not a Frenchman, you know," he said to gain a little time. + +"He's not a German, I hope," Mrs. Dennant answered, passing her +forgers round a petal, to impress its fashion on her brain; "I don't +like Germans. Is n't he the one you wrote about--come down in the +world? Such a pity with so young a fellow! His father was a +merchant, I think you told us. Antonia says he 's quite refined to +look at." + +"Oh, yes," said Shelton, feeling on safe ground; "he's refined enough +to look at." + +Mrs. Dennant took the rose and put it to her nose. + +"Delicious perfume! That was a very touchin' story about his goin' +without food in Paris. Old Mrs. Hopkins has a room to let; I should +like to do her a good turn. I'm afraid there's a hole in the +ceilin', though. Or there's the room here in the left wing on the +ground-floor where John the footman used to sleep. It's quite nice; +perhaps he could have that." + +"You 're awfully kind," said Shelton, "but---" + +"I should like to do something to restore his self-respect,", went on +Mrs. Dennant, "if, as you say, he 's clever and all that. Seein' a +little refined life again might make a world of difference to him. +It's so sad when a young man loses self-respect." + +Shelton was much struck by the practical way in which she looked at +things. Restore his self-respect! It seemed quite a splendid +notion! He smiled, and said, + +"You're too kind. I think---" + +"I don't believe in doin' things by halves," said Mrs. Dennant; "he +does n't drink, I suppose?" + +"Oh, no," said Shelton. "He's rather a tobacco maniac, of course." + +"Well, that's a mercy! You would n't believe the trouble I 've had +with drink, especially over cooks and coachmen. And now Bunyan's +taken to it." + +"Oh, you'd have no trouble with Ferrand," returned Shelton; "you +couldn't tell him from a gentleman as far as manners go." + +Mrs. Dennant smiled one of her rather sweet and kindly smiles. + +"My dear Dick," she said, "there's not much comfort in that. Look at +poor Bobby Surcingle, look at Oliver Semples and Victor Medallion; +you could n't have better families. But if you 're sure he does n't +drink! Algy 'll laugh, of course; that does n't matter--he laughs at +everything." + +Shelton felt guilty; being quite unprepared for so rapid an adoption +of his client. + +"I really believe there's a lot of good in him," he stammered; "but, +of course, I know very little, and from what he tells me he's had a +very curious life. I shouldn't like---" + +"Where was he educated?" inquired Mrs. Dennant. "They have no public +schools in France, so I 've been told; but, of course, he can't help +that, poor young fellow! Oh, and, Dick, there 's one thing--has he +relations? One has always to be so careful about that. It 's one +thing to help a young fellow, but quite another to help his family +too. One sees so many cases of that where men marry girls without +money, don't you know." + +"He has told me," answered Shelton, "his only relations are some +cousins, and they are rich." + +Mrs. Dennant took out her handkerchief, and, bending above the rose, +removed a tiny insect. + +"These green-fly get in everywhere," she said. + +"Very sad story; can't they do anything for him?" and she made +researches in the rose's heart. + +"He's quarrelled with them, I believe," said Shelton; "I have n't +liked to press him, about that." + +"No, of course not," assented Mrs. Dennant absently--she had found +another green-fly "I always think it's painful when a young man seems +so friendless." + +Shelton was silent; he was thinking deeply. He had never before felt +so distrustful of the youthful foreigner. + +"I think," he said at last, "the best thing would be for you to see +him for yourself." + +"Very well," said Mrs. Dennant. "I should be so glad if you would +tell him to come up. I must say I do think that was a most touchin' +story about Paris. I wonder whether this light's strong enough now +for me to photograph this rose." + +Shelton withdrew and went down-stairs. Ferrand was still at +breakfast. Antonia stood at the sideboard carving beef for him, and +in the window sat Thea with her Persian kitten. + +Both girls were following the traveller's movements with inscrutable +blue eyes. A shiver ran down Shelton's spine. To speak truth, he +cursed the young man's coming, as though it affected his relations +with Antonia. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +SUB ROSA + +>From the interview, which Shelton had the mixed delight of watching, +between Ferrand and the Honourable Mrs. Dennant, certain definite +results accrued, the chief of which was the permission accorded the +young wanderer to occupy the room which had formerly been tenanted by +the footman John. Shelton was lost in admiration of Ferrand's manner +in this scene.. Its subtle combination of deference and dignity was +almost paralysing; paralysing, too, the subterranean smile upon his +lips. + +"Charmin' young man, Dick," said Mrs. Dennant, when Shelton lingered +to say once more that he knew but very little of him; "I shall send a +note round to Mrs. Robinson at once. They're rather common, you +know--the Robinsons. I think they'll take anyone I recommend." + +"I 'm sure they will," said Shelton; "that's why I think you ought to +know---" + +But Mrs. Dennant's eyes, fervent, hare-like, were fixed on something +far away; turning, he saw the rose in a tall vase on a tall and +spindly stool. It seemed to nod towards them in the sunshine. Mrs. +Dennant dived her nose towards her camera. + +"The light's perfect now," she said, in a voice muffled by the cloth. +"I feel sure that livin' with decent people will do wonders for him. +Of course, he understands that his meals will be served to him +apart." + +Shelton, doubly anxious, now that his efforts had lodged his client +in a place of trust, fell, back on hoping for the best; his instinct +told him that, vagabond as Ferrand was, he had a curious self- +respect, that would save him from a mean ingratitude. + +In fact, as Mrs. Dennant, who was by no means void of common-sense, +foresaw, the arrangement worked all right. Ferrand entered on his +duties as French tutor to the little Robinsons. In the Dennants' +household he kept himself to his own room, which, day and night, he +perfumed with tobacco, emerging at noon into the garden, or, if wet, +into the study, to teach young Toddles French. After a time it +became customary for him to lunch with the house-party, partly +through a mistake of Toddles, who seemed to think that it was +natural, and partly through John Noble, one of Shelton's friends, who +had come to stay, and discovered Ferrand to be a most awfully +interesting person he was always, indeed, discovering the most +awfully interesting persons. In his grave and toneless voice, +brushing his hair from off his brow, he descanted upon Ferrand with +enthusiasm, to which was joined a kind of shocked amusement, as who +should say, "Of course, I know it's very odd, but really he 's such +an awfully interesting person." For John Noble was a politician, +belonging to one of those two Peculiar parties, which, thoroughly in +earnest, of an honesty above suspicion, and always very busy, are +constitutionally averse to anything peculiar for fear of finding they +have overstepped the limit of what is practical in politics. As such +he inspired confidence, not caring for things unless he saw some +immediate benefit to be had from them, having a perfect sense of +decency, and a small imagination. He discussed all sorts of things +with Ferrand; on one occasion Shelton overheard them arguing on +anarchism. + +"No Englishman approves of murder," Noble was saying, in the gloomy +voice that contrasted with the optimistic cast of his fine head, "but +the main principle is right. Equalisation of property is bound to +come. I sympathise with then, not with their methods." + +"Forgive me," struck in Ferrand; "do you know any anarchists?" + +"No," returned Noble; "I certainly do not." + +"You say you sympathise with them, but the first time it comes to +action---" + +"Well?" + +"Oh, monsieur! one doesn't make anarchism with the head." + +Shelton perceived that he had meant to add, "but with the heart, the +lungs, the liver." He drew a deeper meaning from the saying, and +seemed to see, curling with the smoke from Ferrand's lips, the words: +"What do you, an English gentleman, of excellent position, and all +the prejudices of your class, know about us outcasts? If you want to +understand us you must be an outcast too; we are not playing at the +game." + +This talk took place upon the lawn, at the end of one of Toddles's +French lessons, and Shelton left John Noble maintaining to the +youthful foreigner, with stubborn logic, that he, John Noble, and the +anarchists had much, in common. He was returning to the house, when +someone called his name from underneath the holm oak. There, sitting +Turkish fashion on the grass, a pipe between his teeth, he found a +man who had arrived the night before, and impressed him by his +friendly taciturnity. His name was Whyddon, and he had just returned +from Central Africa; a brown-faced, large-jawed man, with small but +good and steady eyes, and strong, spare figure. + +"Oh, Mr. Shelton!" he said, "I wondered if you could tell me what +tips I ought to give the servants here; after ten years away I 've +forgotten all about that sort of thing." + +Shelton sat down beside him; unconsciously assuming, too, a cross- +legged attitude, which caused him much discomfort. + +"I was listening," said his new acquaintance, "to the little chap +learning his French. I've forgotten mine. One feels a hopeless +duffer knowing no, languages." + +"I suppose you speak Arabic?" said Shelton. + +"Oh, Arabic, and a dialect or two; they don't count. That tutor has +a curious face." + +"You think so?" said Shelton, interested. "He's had a curious life." + +The traveller spread his hands, palms downwards, on the grass and +looked at Shelton with, a smile. + +"I should say he was a rolling stone," he said. "It 's odd, I' ve +seen white men in Central Africa with a good deal of his look about +them. + +"Your diagnosis is a good one," answered Shelton. + +"I 'm always sorry for those fellows. There's generally some good in +them. They are their own enemies. A bad business to be unable to +take pride in anything one does!" And there was a look of pity on +his face. + +"That's exactly it," said Shelton. "I 've often tried to put it into +words. Is it incurable?" + +"I think so." + +"Can you tell me why?" + +Whyddon pondered. + +"I rather think," he said at last, "it must be because they have too +strong a faculty of criticism. You can't teach a man to be proud of +his own work; that lies in his blood "; folding his arms across his +breast, he heaved a sigh. Under the dark foliage, his eyes on the +sunlight, he was the type of all those Englishmen who keep their +spirits bright and wear their bodies out in the dark places of hard +work. "You can't think," he said, showing his teeth in a smile, "how +delightful it is to be at home! You learn to love the old country +when you're away from it." + +Shelton often thought, afterwards; of this diagnosis of the vagabond, +for he was always stumbling on instances of that power of subtle +criticism which was the young foreigner's prime claim to be "a most +awfully interesting" and perhaps a rather shocking person. + +An old school-fellow of Shelton's and his wife were staying in the +house, who offered to the eye the picture of a perfect domesticity. +Passionless and smiling, it was impossible to imagine they could ever +have a difference. Shelton, whose bedroom was next to theirs, could +hear them in the mornings talking in exactly the tones they used at +lunch, and laughing the same laughs. Their life seemed to accord +them perfect satisfaction; they were supplied with their convictions +by Society just as, when at home, they were supplied with all the +other necessaries of life by some co-operative stores. Their fairly +handsome faces, with the fairly kind expressions, quickly and +carefully regulated by a sense of compromise, began to worry him so +much that when in the same room he would even read to avoid the need +of looking at them. And yet they were kind--that is, fairly kind-- +and clean and quiet in the house, except when they laughed, which was +often, and at things which made him want to howl as a dog howls at +music. + +"Mr. Shelton," Ferrand said one day, "I 'm not an amateur of +marriage--never had the chance, as you may well suppose; but, in any +case, you have some people in the house who would make me mark time +before I went committing it. They seem the ideal young married +people--don't quarrel, have perfect health, agree with everybody, go +to church, have children--but I should like to hear what is beautiful +in their life," and he grimaced. "It seems to me so ugly that I can +only gasp. I would much rather they ill-treated each other, just to +show they had the corner of a soul between them. If that is +marriage, 'Dieu m'en garde!'" + +But Shelton did not answer; he was thinking deeply. + +The saying of John Noble's, "He's really a most interesting person," +grew more and more upon his nerves; it seemed to describe the Dennant +attitude towards this stranger within their gates. They treated him +with a sort of wonder on the "don't touch" system, like an object in +an exhibition. The restoration, however, of, his self-respect +proceeded with success. For all the semblance of having grown too +big for Shelton's clothes, for all his vividly burnt face, and the +quick but guarded play of cynicism on his lips--he did much credit to +his patrons. He had subdued his terror of a razor, and looked well +in a suit of Shelton's flannels. For, after all, he had only been +eight years exiled from middle-class gentility, and he had been a +waiter half that time. But Shelton wished him at the devil. Not for +his manners' sake--he was never tired of watching how subtly the +vagabond adapted his conduct to the conduct of his hosts, while +keeping up his critical detachment--but because that critical +detachment was a constant spur to his own vision, compelling him to +analyse the life into which, he had been born and was about to marry. +This process was disturbing; and to find out when it had commenced, +he had to go back to his meeting with Ferrand on the journey up from +Dover. + +There was kindness in a hospitality which opened to so strange a +bird; admitting the kindness, Shelton fell to analysing it. To +himself, to people of his class, the use of kindness was a luxury, +not significant of sacrifice, but productive of a pleasant feeling in +the heart, such as massage will setup in the legs. "Everybody's +kind," he thought; "the question is, What understanding is there, +what real sympathy?" This problem gave him food for thought. + +The progress, which Mrs. Dennant not unfrequently remarked upon, in +Ferrand's conquest of his strange position, seemed to Shelton but a +sign that he was getting what he could out of his sudden visit to +green pastures; under the same circumstances, Shelton thought that he +himself would do the same. He felt that the young foreigner was +making a convenient bow to property, but he had more respect for the +sarcastic smile on the lips of Ferrand's heart. + +It was not long before the inevitable change came in the spirit of +the situation; more and more was Shelton conscious of a quaint +uneasiness in the very breathing of the household. + +"Curious fellow you've got hold of there, Shelton," Mr. Dennant said +to him during a game of croquet; "he 'll never do any good for +himself, I'm afraid." + +"In one sense I'm afraid not," admitted Shelton. + +"Do you know his story? I will bet you sixpence"--and Mr. Dennant +paused to swing his mallet with a proper accuracy "that he's been in +prison." + +"Prison!" ejaculated Shelton. + +"I think," said Mr. Dennant, with bent knees carefully measuring his +next shot, "that you ought to make inquiries--ah! missed it! +Awkward these hoops! One must draw the line somewhere." + +"I never could draw," returned Shelton, nettled and uneasy; "but I +understand--I 'll give him a hint to go." + +"Don't," said Mr. Dennant, moving after his second ball, which +Shelton had smitten to the farther end, "be offended, my dear +Shelton, and by no means give him a hint; he interests me very much-- +a very clever, quiet young fellow." + +That this was not his private view Shelton inferred by studying Mr. +Dennant's manner in the presence of the vagabond. Underlying the +well-bred banter of the tranquil voice, the guarded quizzicality of +his pale brown face, it could be seen that Algernon Cuffe Dennant, +Esq., J.P., accustomed to laugh at other people, suspected that he +was being laughed at. What more natural than that he should grope +about to see how this could be? A vagrant alien was making himself +felt by an English Justice of the Peace--no small tribute, this, to +Ferrand's personality. The latter would sit silent through a meal, +and yet make his effect. He, the object of their kindness, +education, patronage, inspired their fear. There was no longer any +doubt; it was not of Ferrand that they were afraid, but of what they +did not understand in him; of horrid subtleties meandering in the +brain under that straight, wet-looking hair; of something bizarre +popping from the curving lips below that thin, lopsided nose. + +But to Shelton in this, as in all else, Antonia was what mattered. +At first, anxious to show her lover that she trusted him, she seemed +never tired of doing things for his young protege, as though she too +had set her heart on his salvation; but, watching her eyes when they +rested on the vagabond, Shelton was perpetually reminded of her +saying on the first day of his visit to Holm Oaks, "I suppose he 's +really good--I mean all these things you told me about were only...." + +Curiosity never left her glance, nor did that story of his four days' +starving leave her mind; a sentimental picturesqueness clung about +that incident more valuable by far than this mere human being with +whom she had so strangely come in contact. She watched Ferrand, and +Shelton watched her. If he had been told that he was watching her, +he would have denied it in good faith; but he was bound to watch her, +to find out with what eyes she viewed this visitor who embodied all +the rebellious under-side of life, all that was absent in herself. + +"Dick," she said to him one day, "you never talk to me of Monsieur +Ferrand." + +"Do you want to talk of him?" + +"Don't you think that he's improved?" + +"He's fatter." + +Antonia looked grave. + +"No, but really?" + +"I don't know," said Shelton; "I can't judge him." + +Antonia turned her face away, and something in her attitude alarmed +him. + +"He was once a sort of gentleman," she said; "why shouldn't he become +one again?" + +Sitting on the low wall of the kitchen-garden, her head was framed by +golden plums. The sun lay barred behind the foliage of the holm oak, +but a little patch filtering through a gap had rested in the plum- +tree's heart. It crowned the girl. Her raiment, the dark leaves, +the red wall, the golden plums, were woven by the passing glow to a +block of pagan colour. And her face above it, chaste, serene, was +like the scentless summer evening. A bird amongst the currant bushes +kept a little chant vibrating; and all the plum-tree's shape and +colour seemed alive. + +"Perhaps he does n't want to be a gentleman," said Shelton. + +Antonia swung her foot. + +"How can he help wanting to?" + +"He may have a different philosophy of life." + +Antonia was slow to answer. + +"I know nothing about philosophies of life," she said at last. + +Shelton answered coldly, + +"No two people have the same." + +With the falling sun-glow the charm passed off the tree. Chilled and +harder, yet less deep, it was no more a block of woven colour, warm +and impassive, like a southern goddess; it was now a northern tree, +with a grey light through its leaves. + +"I don't understand you in the least," she said; "everyone wishes to +be good." + +"And safe?" asked Shelton gently. + +Antonia stared. + +"Suppose," he said--"I don't pretend to know, I only suppose--what +Ferrand really cares for is doing things differently from other +people? If you were to load him with a character and give him money +on condition that he acted as we all act, do you think he would +accept it?" + +"Why not?" + +"Why are n't cats dogs; or pagans Christians?" + +Antonia slid down from the wall. + +"You don't seem to think there 's any use in trying," she said, and +turned away. + +Shelton made a movement as if he would go after her, and then stood +still, watching her figure slowly pass, her head outlined above the +wall, her hands turned back across her narrow hips. She halted at +the bend, looked back, then, with an impatient gesture, disappeared. + +Antonia was slipping from him! + +A moment's vision from without himself would have shown him that it +was he who moved and she who was standing still, like the figure of +one watching the passage of a stream with clear, direct, and sullen +eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE RIVER + +One day towards the end of August Shelton took Antonia on the river-- +the river that, like soft music, soothes the land; the river of the +reeds and poplars, the silver swan-sails, sun and moon, woods, and +the white slumbrous clouds; where cuckoos, and the wind, the pigeons, +and the weirs are always singing; and in the flash of naked bodies, +the play of waterlily leaves, queer goblin stumps, and the twilight +faces of the twisted tree-roots, Pan lives once more. + +The reach which Shelton chose was innocent of launches, champagne +bottles and loud laughter; it was uncivilised, and seldom troubled by +these humanising influences. He paddled slowly, silent and absorbed, +watching Antonia. An unaccustomed languor clung about her; her eyes +had shadows, as though she had not slept; colour glowed softly in her +cheeks, her frock seemed all alight with golden radiance. She made +Shelton pull into the reeds, and plucked two rounded lilies sailing +like ships against slow-moving water. + +"Pull into the shade, please," she said; "it's too hot out here." + +The brim of her linen hat kept the sun from her face, but her head +was drooping like a flower's head at noon. + +Shelton saw that the heat was really harming her, as too hot a day +will dim the icy freshness of a northern plant. He dipped his +sculls, the ripples started out and swam in grave diminuendo till +they touched the banks. + +He shot the boat into a cleft, and caught the branches of an +overhanging tree. The skiff rested, balancing with mutinous +vibration, like a living thing. + +"I should hate to live in London," said Antonia suddenly;" the slums +must be so awful. What a pity, when there are places like this! But +it's no good thinking." + +"No," answered Shelton slowly! "I suppose it is no good." + +"There are some bad cottages at the lower end of Cross Eaton. I went +them one day with Miss Truecote. The people won't help themselves. +It's so discouraging to help people who won't help themselves." + +She was leaning her elbows on her knees, and, with her chin resting +on her hands, gazed up at Shelton. All around them hung a tent of +soft, thick leaves, and, below, the water was deep-dyed with green +refraction. Willow boughs, swaying above the boat, caressed +Antonia's arms and shoulders; her face and hair alone were free. + +"So discouraging," she said again. + +A silence fell.... Antonia seemed thinking deeply. + +"Doubts don't help you," she said suddenly; "how can you get any good +from doubts? The thing is to win victories." + +"Victories?" said Shelton. "I 'd rather understand than conquer!" + +He had risen to his feet, and grasped stunted branch, canting the +boat towards the bank. + +"How can you let things slide like that, Dick? It's like Ferrand." + +"Have you such a bad opinion of him, then?" asked Shelton. He felt +on the verge of some, discovery. + +She buried her chin deeper in her hands. + +"I liked him at first," she said; "I thought that he was different. +I thought he couldn't really be---" + +"Really be what?" + +Antonia did not answer. + +"I don't know," she said at last. "I can't explain. I thought---" + +Shelton still stood, holding to the branch, and the oscillation of +the boat freed an infinity of tiny ripples. + +"You thought--what?" he said. + +He ought to have seen her face grow younger, more childish, even +timid. She said in a voice smooth, round, and young: + +"You know, Dick, I do think we ought to try. I know I don't try half +hard enough. It does n't do any good to think; when you think, +everything seems so mixed, as if there were nothing to lay hold of. +I do so hate to feel like that. It is n't as if we didn't know +what's right. Sometimes I think, and think, and it 's all no good, +only a waste of time, and you feel at the end as if you had been +doing wrong." + +Shelton frowned. + +"What has n't been through fire's no good," he said; and, letting go +the branch, sat down. Freed from restraint, the boat edged out +towards the current. "But what about Ferrand?" + +"I lay awake last night wondering what makes you like him so. He's +so bitter; he makes me feel unhappy. He never seems content with +anything. And he despises"--her face hardened--"I mean, he hates us +all!" + +"So should I if I were he," said Shelton. + +The boat was drifting on, and gleams of sunlight chased across their +faces. Antonia spoke again. + +"He seems to be always looking at dark things, or else he seems as +if--as if he could--enjoy himself too much. I thought--I thought at +first," she stammered, "that we could do him good." + +"Do him good! Ha, ha!" + +A startled rat went swimming for its life against the stream; and +Shelton saw that he had done a dreadful thing: he had let Antonia +with a jerk into a secret not hitherto admitted even by himself--the +secret that her eyes were not his eyes, her way of seeing things not +his nor ever would be. He quickly muffled up his laughter. Antonia +had dropped her gaze; her face regained its languor, but the bosom of +her dress was heaving. Shelton watched her, racking his brains to +find excuses for that fatal laugh; none could he find. It was a +little piece of truth. He paddled slowly on, close to the bank, in +the long silence of the river. + +The breeze had died away, not a fish was rising; save for the lost +music of the larks no birds were piping; alone, a single pigeon at +brief intervals cooed from the neighbouring wood. + +They did not stay much longer in the boat. + +On the homeward journey in the pony-cart, rounding a corner of the +road, they came on Ferrand in his pince-nez, holding a cigarette +between his fingers and talking to a tramp, who was squatting on the +bank. The young foreigner recognised them, and at once removed his +hat. + +"There he is," said Shelton, returning the salute. + +Antonia bowed. + +"Oh!" she, cried, when they were out of hearing, "I wish he 'd go. +I can't bear to see him; it's like looking at the dark." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +ON THE WING + +That night, having gone up to his room, Shelton filled his pipe for +his unpleasant duty. He had resolved to hint to Ferrand that he had +better go. He was still debating whether to write or go himself to +the young foreigner, when there came a knock and Ferrand himself +appeared. + +"I should be sorry," he said, breaking an awkward silence, "if you +were to think me ungrateful, but I see no future for me here. It +would be better for me to go. I should never be content to pass my +life in teaching languages 'ce n'est guere dans mon caractre'." + +As soon as what he had been cudgelling his brains to find a way of +saying had thus been said for him, Shelton experienced a sense of +disapproval. + +"What do you expect to get that's better?" he said, avoiding +Ferrand's eyes. + +"Thanks to your kindness," replied the latter, "I find myself +restored. I feel that I ought to make some good efforts to dominate +my social position." + +"I should think it well over, if I were you!" said Shelton. + +"I have, and it seems to me that I'm wasting my time. For a man with +any courage languages are no career; and, though I 've many defects, +I still have courage." + +Shelton let his pipe go out, so pathetic seemed to him this young +man's faith in his career; it was no pretended faith, but neither was +it, he felt, his true motive for departure. "He's tired," he +thought; "that 's it. Tired of one place." And having the +instinctive sense that nothing would keep Ferrand, he redoubled his +advice. + +"I should have thought," he said, "that you would have done better to +have held on here and saved a little before going off to God knows +what." + +"To save," said Ferrand, "is impossible for me, but, thanks to you +and your good friends, I 've enough to make front to first +necessities. I'm in correspondence with a friend; it's of great +importance for me to reach Paris before all the world returns. I 've +a chance to get, a post in one of the West African companies. One +makes fortunes out there--if one survives, and, as you know, I don't +set too much store by life." + +"We have a proverb," said Shelton, "'A bird in the hand is worth two +birds in the bush!'" + +"That," returned Ferrand, "like all proverbs, is just half true. +This is an affair of temperament. It 's not in my character to +dandle one when I see two waiting to be caught; 'voyager, apprendre, +c'est plus fort que moi'." He paused; then, with a nervous goggle of +the eyes and an ironic smile he said: "Besides, 'mon cher monsieur', +it is better that I go. I have never been one to hug illusions, and +I see pretty clearly that my presence is hardly acceptable in this +house." + +"What makes you say that?" asked, Shelton, feeling that the murder +was now out." + +"My dear sir, all the world has not your understanding and your lack +of prejudice, and, though your friends have been extremely kind to +me, I am in a false position; I cause them embarrassment, which is +not extraordinary when you reflect what I have been, and that they +know my history." + +"Not through me," said Shelton quickly, "for I don't know it myself." + +"It's enough," the vagrant said, "that they feel I'm not a bird of +their feather. They cannot change, neither can I. I have never +wanted to remain where I 'm not welcome." + +Shelton turned to the window, and stared into the darkness; he would +never quite understand this vagabond, so delicate, so cynical, and he +wondered if Ferrand had been swallowing down the words, "Why, even +you won't be sorry to see my back!" + +"Well," he said at last, "if you must go, you must. When do you +start?" + +"I 've arranged with a man to carry my things to the early train. I +think it better not to say good-bye. I 've written a letter instead; +here it is. I left it open for you to read if you should wish," + +"Then," said Shelton, with a curious mingling of relief, regret, +good-will, "I sha'n't see you again?" + +Ferrand gave his hand a stealthy rub, and held it out. + +"I shall never forget what you have done for me," he said. + +"Mind you write," said Shelton. + +"Yes, yes"--the, vagrant's face was oddly twisted--"you don't know +what a difference it makes to have a correspondent; it gives one +courage. I hope to remain a long time in correspondence with you." + +"I dare say you do," thought Shelton grimly, with a certain queer +emotion. + +"You will do me the justice to remember that I have never asked you +for anything," said Ferrand. "Thank you a thousand times. +Good-bye!" + +He again wrung his patron's hand in his damp grasp, and, going out, +left Shelton with an odd sensation in his throat. "You will do me +the justice to remember that I have never asked you for anything." +The phrase seemed strange, and his mind flew back over all this queer +acquaintanceship. It was a fact: from the beginning to the end the +youth had never really asked for anything. Shelton sat down on his +bed, and began to read the letter in his hand. It was in French. + +DEAR MADAME (it ran), + +It will be insupportable to me, after your kindness, if you take me +for ungrateful. Unfortunately, a crisis has arrived which plunges me +into the necessity of leaving your hospitality. In all lives, as you +are well aware, there arise occasions that one cannot govern, and I +know that you will pardon me that I enter into no explanation on an +event which gives me great chagrin, and, above all, renders me +subject to an imputation of ingratitude, which, believe me, dear +Madame, by no means lies in my character. I know well enough that it +is a breach of politeness to leave you without in person conveying +the expression of my profound reconnaissance, but if you consider how +hard it is for me to be compelled to abandon all that is so +distinguished in domestic life, you will forgive my weakness. People +like me, who have gone through existence with their eyes open, have +remarked that those who are endowed with riches have a right to look +down on such as are not by wealth and breeding fitted to occupy the +same position. I shall never dispute a right so natural and +salutary, seeing that without this distinction, this superiority, +which makes of the well-born and the well-bred a race apart, the rest +of the world would have no standard by which to rule their lives, no +anchor to throw into the depths of that vast sea of fortune and of +misfortune on which we others drive before the wind. It is because +of this, dear Madame, that I regard myself so doubly fortunate to +have been able for a few minutes in this bitter pilgrimage called +life, to sit beneath the tree of safety. To have been able, if only +for an hour, to sit and set the pilgrims pass, the pilgrims with the +blistered feet and ragged clothes, and who yet, dear Madame, guard +within their hearts a certain joy in life, illegal joy, like the +desert air which travellers will tell you fills men as with wine to +be able thus to sit an hour, and with a smile to watch them pass, +lame and blind, in all the rags of their deserved misfortunes, can +you not conceive, dear Madame, how that must be for such as I a +comfort? Whatever one may say, it is sweet, from a position of +security, to watch the sufferings of others; it gives one a good +sensation in the heart. + +In writing this, I recollect that I myself once had the chance of +passing all my life in this enviable safety, and as you may suppose, +dear Madame, I curse myself that I should ever have had the courage +to step beyond the boundaries of this fine tranquil state. Yet, too, +there have been times when I have asked myself: "Do we really differ +from the wealthy--we others, birds of the fields, who have our own +philosophy, grown from the pains of needing bread--we who see that +the human heart is not always an affair of figures, or of those good +maxims that one finds in copy-books--do we really differ?" It is +with shame that I confess to have asked myself a question so +heretical. But now, when for these four weeks I have had the fortune +of this rest beneath your roof, I see how wrong I was to entertain +such doubts. It is a great happiness to have decided once for all +this point, for it is not in my character to pass through life +uncertain--mistaken, perhaps--on psychological matters such as these. +No, Madame; rest happily assured that there is a great difference, +which in the future will be sacred for me. For, believe me, Madame, +it would be calamity for high Society if by chance there should arise +amongst them any understanding of all that side of life which--vast +as the plains and bitter as the sea, black as the ashes of a corpse, +and yet more free than any wings of birds who fly away--is so justly +beyond the grasp of their philosophy. Yes, believe me, dear Madame, +there is no danger in the world so much to be avoided by all the +members of that circle, most illustrious, most respectable, called +high Society. + +>From what I have said you may imagine how hard it is for me to take +my flight. I shall always keep for you the most distinguished +sentiments. With the expression of my full regard for you and your +good family, and of a gratitude as sincere as it is badly worded, + + Believe me, dear Madame, + Your devoted + LOUIS FERRAND. + +Shelton's first impulse was to tear the letter up, but this he +reflected he had no right to do. Remembering, too, that Mrs. +Dennant's French was orthodox, he felt sure she would never +understand the young foreigner's subtle innuendoes. He closed the +envelope and went to bed, haunted still by Ferrand's parting look. + +It was with no small feeling of embarrassment, however, that, having +sent the letter to its destination by an early footman, he made his +appearance at the breakfast-table. Behind the Austrian coffee-urn, +filled with French coffee, Mrs. Dennant, who had placed four eggs in +a German egg-boiler, said "Good-morning," with a kindly smile. + +"Dick, an egg?" she asked him, holding up a fifth. + +"No, thank you," replied Shelton, greeting the table and fitting +down. + +He was a little late; the buzz of conversation rose hilariously +around. + +"My dear," continued Mr. Dennant, who was talking to his youngest +daughter, "you'll have no chance whatever--not the least little bit +of chance." + +"Father, what nonsense! You know we shall beat your heads off!" + +"Before it 's too late, then, I will eat a muffin. Shelton, pass the +muffins! "But in making this request, Mr. Dennant avoided looking in +his face. + +Antonia, too, seemed to keep her eyes away from him. She was talking +to a Connoisseur on Art of supernatural appearances, and seemed in +the highest spirits. Shelton rose, and, going to the sideboard, +helped himself to grouse. + +"Who was the young man I saw yesterday on the lawn?" he heard the +Connoisseur remark. "Struck me as having an--er--quite intelligent +physiog." + +His own intelligent physiog, raised at a slight slant so that he +might look the better through his nose-nippers, was the very pattern +of approval. "It's curious how one's always meeting with +intelligence;" it seemed to say. Mrs. Dennant paused in the act of +adding cream, and Shelton scrutinised her face; it was hare-like, and +superior as ever. Thank goodness she had smelt no rat! He felt +strangely disappointed. + +"You mean Monsieur Ferrand, teachin' Toddles French? Dobson, the +Professor's cup." + +"I hope I shall see him again," cooed the Connoisseur; "he was quite +interesting on the subject of young German working men. It seems +they tramp from place to place to learn their trades. What +nationality was he, may I ask?" + +Mr. Dennant, of whom he asked this question, lifted his brows, and +said, + +"Ask Shelton." + +"Half Dutch, half French." + +"Very interesting breed; I hope I shall see him again." + +"Well, you won't," said Thea suddenly; "he's gone." + +Shelton saw that their good breeding alone prevented all from adding, +"And thank goodness, too!" + +"Gone? Dear me, it's very--" + +"Yes," said Mr. Dennant, "very sudden." + +"Now, Algie," murmured Mrs. Dennant, "it 's quite a charmin' letter. +Must have taken the poor young man an hour to write." + +"Oh, mother!" cried Antonia. + +And Shelton felt his face go crimson. He had suddenly remembered +that her French was better than her mother's. + +"He seems to have had a singular experience," said the Connoisseur. + +"Yes," echoed Mr. Dennant; "he 's had some singular experience. If +you want to know the details, ask friend Shelton; it's quite +romantic. In the meantime, my dear; another cup?" + +The Connoisseur, never quite devoid of absent-minded malice, spurred +his curiosity to a further effort; and, turning his well-defended +eyes on Shelton, murmured, + +"Well, Mr. Shelton, you are the historian, it seems." + +"There is no history," said Shelton, without looking up. + +"Ah, that's very dull," remarked the Connoisseur. + +"My dear Dick," said Mrs. Dennant, "that was really a most touchin' +story about his goin' without food in Paris." + +Shelton shot another look at Antonia; her face was frigid. "I hate +your d---d superiority!" he thought, staring at the Connoisseur. + +"There's nothing," said that gentleman, "more enthralling than +starvation. Come, Mr Shelton." + +"I can't tell stories," said Shelton; "never could." + +He cared not a straw for Ferrand, his coming, going, or his history; +for, looking at Antonia, his heart was heavy. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE LADY FROM BEYOND + +The morning was sultry, brooding, steamy. Antonia was at her music, +and from the room where Shelton tried to fix attention on a book he +could hear her practising her scales with a cold fury that cast an +added gloom upon his spirit. He did not see her until lunch, and +then she again sat next the Connoisseur. Her cheeks were pale, but +there was something feverish in her chatter to her neighbour; she +still refused to look at Shelton. He felt very miserable. After +lunch, when most of them had left the table, the rest fell to +discussing country neighbours. + +"Of course," said Mrs. Dennant, "there are the Foliots; but nobody +calls on them." + +"Ah!" said the Connoisseur, "the Foliots--the Foliots--the people-- +er--who--quite so!" + +"It's really distressin'; she looks so sweet ridin' about. Many +people with worse stories get called on," continued Mrs. Dennant, +with that large frankness of intrusion upon doubtful subjects which +may be made by certain people in a certain way," but, after all, one +couldn't ask them to meet anybody." + +"No," the Connoisseur assented. "I used to know Foliot. Thousand +pities. They say she was a very pretty woman." + +"Oh, not pretty!" said Mrs. Dennant! "more interestin than pretty, I +should say." + +Shelton, who knew the lady slightly, noticed that they spoke of her +as in the past. He did not look towards Antonia; for, though a +little troubled at her presence while such a subject was discussed, +he hated his conviction that her face, was as unruffled as though the +Foliots had been a separate species. There was, in fact, a curiosity +about her eyes, a faint impatience on her lips; she was rolling +little crumbs of bread. Suddenly yawning, she muttered some remark, +and rose. Shelton stopped her at the door. + +"Where are you going?" + +"For a walk." + +"May n't I come?". + +She shook her head. + +"I 'm going to take Toddles." + +Shelton held the door open, and went back to the table. + +"Yes," the Connoisseur said, sipping at his sherry, "I 'm afraid it's +all over with young Foliot." + +"Such a pity!" murmured Mrs. Dennant, and her kindly face looked +quite disturbed. "I've known him ever since he was a boy. Of +course, I think he made a great mistake to bring her down here. Not +even bein' able to get married makes it doubly awkward. Oh, I think +he made a great mistake!" + +"Ah!" said the Connoisseur, "but d' you suppose that makes much +difference? Even if What 's--his-name gave her a divorce, I don't +think, don't you know, that--" + +"Oh, it does! So many people would be inclined to look over it in +time. But as it is it's hopeless, quite. So very awkward for +people, too, meetin' them about. The Telfords and the Butterwicks-- +by the way, they're comin' here to dine to-night--live near them, +don't you know." + +"Did you ever meet her before-er-before the flood?" the Connoisseur +inquired; and his lips parting and unexpectedly revealing teeth gave +him a shadowy resemblance to a goat. + +"Yes; I did meet her once at the Branksomes'. I thought her quite a +charmin' person." + +"Poor fellow!" said the Connoisseur; "they tell me he was going to +take the hounds." + +"And there are his delightful coverts, too. Algie often used to +shoot there, and now they say he just has his brother down to shoot +with him. It's really quite too melancholy! Did you know him, +Dick?" + +"Foliot?" replied Shelton absently. "No; I never met him: I've seen +her once or twice at Ascot." + +Through the window he could see Antonia in her scarlet Tam-o'- +shanter, swinging her stick, and he got up feigning unconcern. Just +then Toddles came bounding up against his sister. They went off arm +in arm. She had seen him at the window, yet she gave no friendly +glance; Shelton felt more miserable than ever. He stepped out upon +the drive. There was a lurid, gloomy canopy above; the elm-trees +drooped their heavy blackish green, the wonted rustle of the aspen- +tree was gone, even the rooks were silent. A store of force lay +heavy on the heart of nature. He started pacing slowly up and down, +his pride forbidding him to follow her, and presently sat down on an +old stone seat that faced the road. He stayed a long time staring at +the elms, asking himself what he had done and what he ought to do. +And somehow he was frightened. A sense of loneliness was on him, so +real, so painful, that he shivered in the sweltering heat. He was +there, perhaps, an hour, alone, and saw nobody pass along the road. +Then came the sound of horse's hoofs, and at the same time he heard a +motor-car approaching from the opposite direction. The rider made +appearance first, riding a grey horse with an Arab's high set head +and tail. She was holding him with difficulty, for the whirr of the +approaching car grew every moment louder. Shelton rose; the car +flashed by. He saw the horse stagger in the gate-way, crushing its +rider up against the gatepost. + +He ran, but before he reached the gate the lady was on foot, holding +the plunging horse's bridle. + +"Are you hurt?" cried Shelton breathlessly, and he, too, grabbed the +bridle. "Those beastly cars!" + +"I don't know," she said. "Please don't; he won't let strangers +touch him." + +Shelton let go, and watched her coax the horse. She was rather tall, +dressed in a grey habit, with a grey Russian cap upon her head, and +he suddenly recognised the Mrs. Foliot whom they had been talking of +at lunch. + +"He 'll be quiet now," she said, "if you would n't mind holding him a +minute." + +She gave the reins to him, and leaned against the gate. She was very +pale. + +"I do hope he has n't hurt you," Shelton said. He was quite close to +her, well able to see her face--a curious face with high cheek-bones +and a flatfish moulding, enigmatic, yet strangely passionate for all +its listless pallor. Her smiling, tightened lips were pallid; +pallid, too, her grey and deep-set eyes with greenish tints; above +all, pale the ashy mass of hair coiled under her grey cap. + +"Th-thanks!" she said; "I shall be all right directly. I'm sorry to +have made a fuss." + +She bit her lips and smiled. + +"I 'm sure you're hurt; do let me go for---" stammered Shelton. +"I can easily get help." + +"Help!" she said, with a stony little laugh; "oh, no, thanks!" + +She left the gate, and crossed the road to where he held the horse. +Shelton, to conceal embarrassment, looked at the horse's legs, and +noticed that the grey was resting one of them. He ran his hand down. + +"I 'm afraid," he said, "your horse has knocked his off knee; it's +swelling." + +She smiled again. + +"Then we're both cripples." + +"He'll be lame when he gets cold. Would n't you like to put him in +the stable here? I 'm sure you ought to drive home." + +"No, thanks; if I 'm able to ride him he can carry me. Give me a +hand up." + +Her voice sounded as though something had offended her. Rising from +inspection of the horse's leg, Shelton saw Antonia and Toddles +standing by. They had come through a wicketgate leading from the +fields. + +The latter ran up to him at once. + +"We saw it," he whispered--"jolly smash-up. Can't I help?" + +"Hold his bridle," answered Shelton, and he looked from one lady to +the other. + +There are moments when the expression of a face fixes itself with +painful clearness; to Shelton this was such a moment. Those two +faces close together, under their coverings of scarlet and of grey, +showed a contrast almost cruelly vivid. Antonia was flushed, her +eyes had grown deep blue; her look of startled doubt had passed and +left a question in her face. + +"Would you like to come in and wait? We could send you home, in the +brougham," she said. + +The lady called Mrs. Foliot stood, one arm across the crupper of her +saddle, biting her lips and smiling still her enigmatic smile, and it +was her face that stayed most vividly on Shelton's mind, its ashy +hail, its pallor, and fixed, scornful eyes. + +"Oh, no, thanks! You're very kind." + +Out of Antonia's face the timid, doubting friendliness had fled, and +was replaced by enmity. With a long, cold look at both of them she +turned away. Mrs. Foliot gave a little laugh, and raised her foot +for Shelton's help. He heard a hiss of pain as he swung her up, but +when he looked at her she smiled. + +"Anyway," he said impatiently, "let me come and see you don't break +down." + +She shook her head. "It 's only two miles. I'm not made of sugar." + +"Then I shall simply have to follow." + +She shrugged her shoulders, fixing her resolute eyes on him. + +"Would that boy like to come?" she asked. + +Toddles left the horse's head. + +"By Jove!" he cried. "Would n't I just!" + +"Then," she said, "I think that will be best. You 've been so kind." + +She bowed, smiled inscrutably once more, touched the Arab with her +whip, and started, Toddles trotting at her side. + +Shelton was left with Antonia underneath the elms. A sudden puff of +tepid air blew in their faces, like a warning message from the heavy, +purple heat clouds; low rumbling thunder travelled slowly from afar. + +"We're going to have a storm," he said. + +Antonia nodded. She was pale now, and her face still wore its cold +look of offence. + +"I 've got a headache," she said, "I shall go in and lie down." + +Shelton tried to speak, but something kept him silent--submission to +what was coming, like the mute submission of the fields and birds to +the menace of the storm. + +He watched her go, and went back to his seat. And the silence seemed +to grow; the flowers ceased to exude their fragrance, numbed by the +weighty air. All the long house behind him seemed asleep, deserted. +No noise came forth, no laughter, the echo of no music, the ringing +of no bell; the heat had wrapped it round with drowsiness. And the +silence added to the solitude within him. What an unlucky chance, +that woman's accident! Designed by Providence to put Antonia further +from him than before! Why was not the world composed of the +immaculate alone? He started pacing up and down, tortured by a +dreadful heartache. + +"I must get rid of this," he thought. "I 'll go for a good tramp, +and chance the storm." + +Leaving the drive he ran on Toddles, returning in the highest +spirits. + +"I saw her home," he crowed. "I say, what a ripper, isn't she? +She 'll be as lame as a tree to-morrow; so will the gee. Jolly hot!" + +This meeting showed Shelton that he had been an hour on the stone +seat; he had thought it some ten minutes, and the discovery alarmed +him. It seemed to bring the import of his miserable fear right home +to him. He started with a swinging stride, keeping his eyes fixed on +the road, the perspiration streaming down his face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE STORM + +It was seven and more when Shelton returned, from his walk; a few +heat drops had splashed the leaves, but the storm had not yet broken. +In brooding silence the world seemed pent beneath the purple +firmament. + +By rapid walking in the heat Shelton had got rid of his despondency. +He felt like one who is to see his mistress after long estrangement. +He, bathed, and, straightening his tie-ends, stood smiling at the +glass. His fear, unhappiness, and doubts seemed like an evil dream; +how much worse off would he not have been, had it all been true? + +It was dinner-party night, and when he reached the drawing-room the +guests were there already, chattering of the coming storm. Antonia +was not yet down, and Shelton stood by the piano waiting for her +entry. Red faces, spotless shirt-fronts, white arms; and freshly- +twisted hair were all around him. Some one handed him a clove +carnation, and, as he held it to his nose, Antonia came in, +breathless, as though she had rushed down-stairs, Her cheeks were +pale no longer; her hand kept stealing to her throat. The flames of +the coming storm seemed to have caught fire within her, to be +scorching her in her white frock; she passed him close, and her +fragrance whipped his senses. + +She had never seemed to him so lovely. + +Never again will Shelton breathe the perfume of melons and pineapples +without a strange emotion. From where he sat at dinner he could not +see Antonia, but amidst the chattering of voices, the clink of glass +and silver, the sights and sounds and scents of feasting, he thought +how he would go to her and say that nothing mattered but her love. +He drank the frosted, pale-gold liquid of champagne as if it had been +water. + +The windows stood wide open in the heat; the garden lay in thick, +soft shadow, where the pitchy shapes of trees could be discerned. +There was not a breath of air to fan the candle-flames above the +flowers; but two large moths, fearful of the heavy dark, flew in and +wheeled between the lights over the diners' heads. One fell scorched +into a dish of fruit, and was removed; the other, eluding all the +swish of napkins and the efforts of the footmen, continued to make +soft, fluttering rushes till Shelton rose and caught it in his hand. +He took it to the window and threw it out into the darkness, and he +noticed that the air was thick and tepid to his face. At a sign from +Mr. Dennant the muslin curtains were then drawn across the windows, +and in gratitude, perhaps, for this protection, this filmy barrier +between them and the muffled threats of Nature, everyone broke out in +talk. It was such a night as comes in summer after perfect weather, +frightening in its heat, and silence, which was broken by the distant +thunder travelling low along the ground like the muttering of all +dark places on the earth--such a night as seems, by very +breathlessness, to smother life, and with its fateful threats to +justify man's cowardice. + +The ladies rose at last. The circle of the rosewood dining-table, +which had no cloth, strewn with flowers and silver gilt, had a +likeness to some autumn pool whose brown depths of oily water gleam +under the sunset with red and yellow leaves; above it the smoke of +cigarettes was clinging, like a mist to water when the sun goes down. +Shelton became involved in argument with his neighbour on the English +character. + +"In England we've mislaid the recipe of life," he said. "Pleasure's +a lost art. We don't get drunk, we're ashamed of love, and as to +beauty, we've lost the eye for' it. In exchange we have got money, +but what 's the good of money when we don't know how to spend it?" +Excited by his neighbour's smile, he added: "As to thought, we think +so much of what our neighbours think that we never think at all.... +Have you ever watched a foreigner when he's listening to an +Englishman? We 're in the habit of despising foreigners; the scorn +we have for them is nothing to the scorn they have for us. And they +are right! Look at our taste! What is the good of owning riches if +we don't know how to use them?" + +"That's rather new to me," his neighbour said. "There may be +something in it.... Did you see that case in the papers the other +day of old Hornblower, who left the 1820 port that fetched a guinea a +bottle? When the purchaser--poor feller!--came to drink it he found +eleven bottles out of twelve completely ullaged--ha! ha! Well, +there's nothing wrong with this"; and he drained his glass. + +"No," answered Shelton. + +When they rose to join the ladies, he slipped out on the lawn. + +At once he was enveloped in a bath of heat. A heavy odour, sensual, +sinister, was in the air, as from a sudden flowering of amorous +shrubs. He stood and drank it in with greedy nostrils. Putting his +hand down, he felt the grass; it was dry, and charged with +electricity. Then he saw, pale and candescent in the blackness, +three or four great lilies, the authors of that perfume. The +blossoms seemed to be rising at him through the darkness; as though +putting up their faces to be kissed. He straightened himself +abruptly and went in. + +The guests were leaving when Shelton, who was watching; saw Antonia +slip through the drawing-room window. He could follow the white +glimmer of her frock across the lawn, but lost it in the shadow of +the trees; casting a hasty look to see that he was not observed, he +too slipped out. The blackness and the heat were stifling he took +great breaths of it as if it were the purest mountain air, and, +treading softly on the grass, stole on towards the holm oak. His +lips were dry, his heart beat painfully. The mutter of the distant +thunder had quite ceased; waves of hot air came wheeling in his face, +and in their midst a sudden rush of cold. He thought, "The storm is +coming now!" and stole on towards the tree. She was lying in the +hammock, her figure a white blur in, the heart of the tree's shadow, +rocking gently to a little creaking of the branch. Shelton held his +breath; she had not heard him. He crept up close behind the trunk +till he stood in touch of her. "I mustn't startle her," he thought. +"Antonia!" + +There was a faint stir in the hammock, but no answer. He stood over +her, but even then he could not see her face; he only, had a sense of +something breathing and alive within a yard of him--of something warm +and soft. He whispered again, "Antonia!" but again there came no +answer, and a sort of fear and frenzy seized on him. He could no +longer hear her breathe; the creaking of the branch had ceased. What +was passing in that silent, living creature there so close? And then +he heard again the sound of breathing, quick and scared, like the +fluttering of a bird; in a moment he was staring in the dark at an +empty hammock. + +He stayed beside the empty hammock till he could bear uncertainty no +longer. But as he crossed the lawn the sky was rent from end to end +by jagged lightning, rain spattered him from head to foot, and with a +deafening crack the thunder broke. + +He sought the smoking-room, but, recoiling at the door, went to his +own room, and threw himself down on the bed. The thunder groaned and +sputtered in long volleys; the lightning showed him the shapes of +things within the room, with a weird distinctness that rent from them +all likeness to the purpose they were made for, bereaved them of +utility, of their matter-of-factness, presented them as skeletons, +abstractions, with indecency in their appearance, like the naked +nerves and sinews of a leg preserved in, spirit. The sound of the +rain against the house stunned his power of thinking, he rose to shut +his windows; then, returning to his bed, threw himself down again. +He stayed there till the storm was over, in a kind of stupor; but +when the boom of the retreating thunder grew every minute less +distinct, he rose. Then for the first time he saw something white +close by the door. + +It was a note: + +I have made a mistake. Please forgive me, and go away.--ANTONIA. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +WILDERNESS + +When he had read this note, Shelton put it down beside his sleeve- +links on his dressing table, stared in the mirror at himself, and +laughed. But his lips soon stopped him laughing; he threw himself +upon his bed and pressed his face into the pillows. He lay there +half-dressed throughout the night, and when he rose, soon after dawn, +he had not made his mind up what to do. The only thing he knew for +certain was that he must not meet Antonia. + +At last he penned the following: + +I have had a sleepless night with toothache, and think it best to run +up to the dentist at once. If a tooth must come out, the sooner the +better. + +He addressed it to Mrs. Dennant, and left it on his table. After +doing this he threw himself once more upon his bed, and this time +fell into a doze. + +He woke with a start, dressed, and let himself quietly out. The +likeness of his going to that of Ferrand struck him. "Both outcasts +now," he thought. + +He tramped on till noon without knowing or caring where he went; +then, entering a field, threw himself down under the hedge, and fell +asleep. + +He was awakened by a whirr. A covey of partridges, with wings +glistening in the sun, were straggling out across the adjoining field +of mustard. They soon settled in the old-maidish way of partridges, +and began to call upon each other. + +Some cattle had approached him in his sleep, and a beautiful bay cow, +with her head turned sideways, was snuffing at him gently, exhaling +her peculiar sweetness. She was as fine in legs and coat as any +race-horse. She dribbled at the corners of her black, moist lips; +her eye was soft and cynical. Breathing the vague sweetness of the +mustard-field, rubbing dry grasp-stalks in his fingers, Shelton had a +moment's happiness--the happiness of sun and sky, of the eternal +quiet, and untold movements of the fields. Why could not human +beings let their troubles be as this cow left the flies that clung +about her eyes? He dozed again, and woke up with a laugh, for this +was what he dreamed: + +He fancied he was in a room, at once the hall and drawing-room of +some country house. In the centre of this room a lady stood, who was +looking in a hand-glass at her face. Beyond a door or window could +be seen a garden with a row of statues, and through this door people +passed without apparent object. + +Suddenly Shelton saw his mother advancing to the lady with the hand- +glass, whom now he recognised as Mrs. Foliot. But, as he looked, his +mother changed to Mrs. Dennant, and began speaking in a voice that +was a sort of abstract of refinement. "Je fais de la philosophic," +it said; "I take the individual for what she's worth. I do not +condemn; above all, one must have spirit!" The lady with the mirror +continued looking in the glass; and, though he could not see her +face, he could see its image-pale, with greenish eyes, and a smile +like scorn itself. Then, by a swift transition, he was walking in +the garden talking to Mrs. Dennant. + +It was from this talk that he awoke with laughter. "But," she had +been saying, "Dick, I've always been accustomed to believe what I was +told. It was so unkind of her to scorn me just because I happen to +be second-hand." And her voice awakened Shelton's pity; it was like +a frightened child's. "I don't know what I shall do if I have to +form opinions for myself. I was n't brought up to it. I 've always +had them nice and secondhand. How am I to go to work? One must +believe what other people do; not that I think much of other people, +but, you do know what it is--one feels so much more comfortable," and +her skirts rustled. "But, Dick, whatever happens"--her voice +entreated--"do let Antonia get her judgments secondhand. Never mind +for me--if I must form opinions for myself, I must--but don't let +her; any old opinions so long as they are old. It 's dreadful to +have to think out new ones for oneself." And he awoke. His dream +had had in it the element called Art, for, in its gross absurdity, +Mrs. Dennant had said things that showed her soul more fully than +anything she would have said in life. + +"No," said a voice quite close, behind the hedge, "not many +Frenchmen, thank the Lord! A few coveys of Hungarians over from the +Duke's. Sir James, some pie?" + +Shelton raised himself with drowsy curiosity--still half asleep--and +applied his face to a gap in the high, thick osiers of the hedge. +Four men were seated on camp-stools round a folding-table, on which +was a pie and other things to eat. A game-cart, well-adorned with +birds and hares, stood at a short distance; the tails of some dogs +were seen moving humbly, and a valet opening bottles. Shelton had +forgotten that it was "the first." The host was a soldierly and +freckled man; an older man sat next him, square-jawed, with an +absent-looking eye and sharpened nose; next him, again, there was a +bearded person whom they seemed to call the Commodore; in the fourth, +to his alarm, Shelton recognised the gentleman called Mabbey. It was +really no matter for surprise to meet him miles from his own place, +for he was one of those who wander with a valet and two guns from the +twelfth of August to the end of January, and are then supposed to go +to Monte Carlo or to sleep until the twelfth of August comes again. + +He was speaking. + +"Did you hear what a bag we made on the twelfth, Sir James?" + +"Ah! yes; what was that? Have you sold your bay horse, Glennie?" + +Shelton had not decided whether or no to sneak away, when the +Commodore's thick voice began: + +"My man tellsh me that Mrs. Foliot--haw--has lamed her Arab. Does +she mean to come out cubbing?" + +Shelton observed the smile that came on all their faces. "Foliot 's +paying for his good time now; what a donkey to get caught!" it seemed +to say. He turned his back and shut his eyes. + +"Cubbing?" replied Glennie; "hardly." + +"Never could shee anything wonderful in her looks," went on the +Commodore; "so quiet, you never knew that she was in the room. I +remember sayin' to her once, 'Mrs. Lutheran, now what do you like +besht in all the world?' and what do you think she answered? 'Music!' +Haw!" + +The voice of Mabbey said: + +"He was always a dark horse, Foliot: It 's always the dark horses +that get let in for this kind of thing"; and there was a sound as +though he licked his lips. + +"They say," said the voice of the host, "he never gives you back a +greeting now. Queer fish; they say that she's devoted to him." + +Coming so closely on his meeting with this lady, and on the dream +from which he had awakened, this conversation mesmerised the listener +behind the hedge. + +"If he gives up his huntin' and his shootin', I don't see what the +deuce he 'll do; he's resigned his clubs; as to his chance of +Parliament---" said the voice of Mabbey. + +"Thousand pities," said Sir James; "still, he knew what to expect." + +"Very queer fellows, those Foliots," said the Commodore. "There was +his father: he 'd always rather talk to any scarecrow he came across +than to you or me. Wonder what he'll do with all his horses; I +should like that chestnut of his." + +"You can't tell what a fellow 'll do," said the voice of Mabbey-- +"take to drink or writin' books. Old Charlie Wayne came to gazin' at +stars, and twice a week he used to go and paddle round in +Whitechapel, teachin' pothooks--" + +"Glennie," said Sir James, "what 's become of Smollett, your old +keeper?" + +"Obliged to get rid of him." Shelton tried again to close his ears, +but again he listened. "Getting a bit too old; lost me a lot of eggs +last season." + +"Ah!" said the Commodore, "when they oncesh begin to lose eggsh--" + +"As a matter of fact, his son--you remember him, Sir James, he used +to load for you?--got a girl into trouble; when her people gave her +the chuck old Smollet took her in; beastly scandal it made, too. The +girl refused to marry Smollett, and old Smollett backed her up. +Naturally, the parson and the village cut up rough; my wife offered +to get her into one of those reformatory what-d' you-call-'ems, but +the old fellow said she should n't go if she did n't want to. Bad +business altogether; put him quite off his stroke. I only got five +hundred pheasants last year instead of eight." + +There was a silence. Shelton again peeped through the hedge. All +were eating pie. + +"In Warwickshire," said the Commodore, "they always marry--haw--and +live reshpectable ever after." + +"Quite so," remarked the host; "it was a bit too thick, her refusing +to marry him. She said he took advantage of her." + +"She's sorry by this time," said Sir James; "lucky escape for young +Smollett. Queer, the obstinacy of some of these old fellows!" + +"What are we doing after lunch?" asked the Commodore. + +"The next field," said the host, "is pasture. We line up along the +hedge, and drive that mustard towards the roots; there ought to be a +good few birds." + +"Shelton rose, and, crouching, stole softly to the gate: + +"On the twelfth, shootin' in two parties," followed the voice of +Mabbey from the distance. + +Whether from his walk or from his sleepless night, Shelton seemed to +ache in every limb; but he continued his tramp along the road. He +was no nearer to deciding what to do. It was late in the afternoon +when he reached Maidenhead, and, after breaking fast, got into a +London train and went to sleep. At ten o'clock that evening he +walked into St. James's Park and there sat down. + +The lamplight dappled through the tired foliage on to these benches +which have rested many vagrants. Darkness has ceased to be the +lawful cloak of the unhappy; but Mother Night was soft and moonless, +and man had not despoiled her of her comfort, quite. + +Shelton was not alone upon the seat, for at the far end was sitting a +young girl with a red, round, sullen face; and beyond, and further +still, were dim benches and dim figures sitting on them, as though +life's institutions had shot them out in an endless line of rubbish. + +"Ah!" thought Shelton, in the dreamy way of tired people; "the +institutions are all right; it's the spirit that's all---" + +"Wrong?" said a voice behind him; "why, of course! You've taken the +wrong turn, old man." + +He saw a policeman, with a red face shining through the darkness, +talking to a strange old figure like some aged and dishevelled bird. + +"Thank you, constable," the old man said, "as I've come wrong I'll +take a rest." Chewing his gums, he seemed to fear to take the +liberty of sitting down. + +Shelton made room, and the old fellow took the vacant place. + +"You'll excuse me, sir, I'm sure," he said in shaky tones, and +snatching at his battered hat; "I see you was a gentleman"--and +lovingly he dwelt upon the word--"would n't disturb you for the +world. I'm not used to being out at night, and the seats do get so +full. Old age must lean on something; you'll excuse me, sir, I 'm +sure." + +"Of course," said Shelton gently. + +"I'm a respectable old man, really," said his neighbour; "I never +took a liberty in my life. But at my age, sir, you get nervous; +standin' about the streets as I been this last week, an' sleepin' in +them doss-houses--Oh, they're dreadful rough places--a dreadful rough +lot there! Yes," the old man said again, as Shelton turned to look +at him, struck by the real self-pity in his voice, "dreadful rough +places!" + +A movement of his head, which grew on a lean, plucked neck like that +of an old fowl, had brought his face into the light. It was long, +and run to seed, and had a large, red nose; its thin, colourless lips +were twisted sideways and apart, showing his semi-toothless mouth; +and his eyes had that aged look of eyes in which all colour runs into +a thin rim round the iris; and over them kept coming films like the +films over parrots' eyes. He was, or should have been, clean-shaven. +His hair--for he had taken off his hat was thick and lank, of dusty +colour, as far as could be seen, without a speck of grey, and parted +very beautifully just about the middle. + +"I can put up with that," he said again. "I never interferes with +nobody, and nobody don't interfere with me; but what frightens me"-- +his voice grew steady, as if too terrified to shake, is never knowin' +day to day what 's to become of yer. Oh, that 'a dreadful, that is!" + +"It must be," answered Shelton. + +"Ah! it is," the old man said; "and the winter cumin' on. I never +was much used to open air, bein' in domestic service all my life; but +I don't mind that so long as I can see my way to earn a livin'. +Well, thank God! I've got a job at last"; and his voice grew +cheerful suddenly. "Sellin' papers is not what I been accustomed to; +but the Westminister, they tell me that's one of the most respectable +of the evenin' papers--in fact, I know it is. So now I'm sure to get +on; I try hard." + +"How did you get the job?" asked Shelton. + +"I 've got my character," the old fellow said, making a gesture with +a skinny hand towards his chest, as if it were there he kept his +character. + +"Thank God, nobody can't take that away! I never parts from that"; +and fumbling, he produced a packet, holding first one paper to the +light, and then another, and he looked anxiously at Shelton. "In +that house where I been sleepin' they're not honest; they 've stolen +a parcel of my things--a lovely shirt an' a pair of beautiful gloves +a gentleman gave me for holdin' of his horse. Now, would n't you +prosecute 'em, sir?" + +"It depends on what you can prove." + +"I know they had 'em. A man must stand up for his rights; that's +only proper. I can't afford to lose beautiful things like them. I +think I ought to prosecute, now, don't you, sir?" + +Shelton restrained a smile. + +"There!" said the old man, smoothing out a piece of paper shakily, +"that's Sir George!" and his withered finger-tips trembled on the +middle of the page: 'Joshua Creed, in my service five years as +butler, during which time I have found him all that a servant should +be.' And this 'ere'--he fumbled with another--"this 'ere 's Lady +Glengow: 'Joshua Creed--' I thought I'd like you to read 'em since +you've been so kind." + +"Will you have a pipe?" + +"Thank ye, sir," replied the aged butler, filling his clay from +Shelton's pouch; then, taking a front tooth between his finger and +his thumb, he began to feel it tenderly, working it to and fro with a +sort of melancholy pride. + +"My teeth's a-comin' out," he said; "but I enjoys pretty good health +for a man of my age." + +"How old is that?" + +"Seventy-two! Barrin' my cough, and my rupture, and this 'ere +affliction"--he passed his hand over his face--" I 've nothing to +complain of; everybody has somethink, it seems. I'm a wonder for my +age, I think." + +Shelton, for all his pity, would have given much to laugh. + +"Seventy-two!" he said; "yes, a great age. You remember the country +when it was very different to what it is now?" + +"Ah!" said the old butler, "there was gentry then; I remember them +drivin' down to Newmarket (my native place, sir) with their own +horses. There was n't so much o' these here middle classes then. +There was more, too, what you might call the milk o' human kindness +in people then--none o' them amalgamated stores, every man keepin' +his own little shop; not so eager to cut his neighbour's throat, as +you might say. And then look at the price of bread! O dear! why, +it is n't a quarter what it was!" + +"And are people happier now than they were then?" asked Shelton. + +The old butler sucked his pipe. + +"No," he answered, shaking his old head; "they've lost the contented +spirit. I see people runnin' here and runnin' there, readin' books, +findin' things out; they ain't not so self-contented as they were." + +"Is that possible?" thought Shelton. + +"No," repeated the old man, again sucking at his pipe, and this time +blowing out a lot of smoke; "I don't see as much happiness about, not +the same look on the faces. 'T isn't likely. See these 'ere motor- +cars, too; they say 'orses is goin' out"; and, as if dumbfounded at +his own conclusion, he sat silent for some time, engaged in the +lighting and relighting of his pipe. + +The girl at the far end stirred, cleared her throat, and settled down +again; her movement disengaged a scent of frowsy clothes. The +policeman had approached and scrutinised these ill-assorted faces; +his glance was jovially contemptuous till he noticed Shelton, and +then was modified by curiosity. + +"There's good men in the police," the aged butler said, when the +policeman had passed on--" there's good men in the police, as good +men as you can see, and there 's them that treats you like the dirt-- +a dreadful low class of man. Oh dear, yes! when they see you down +in the world, they think they can speak to you as they like; I don't +give them no chance to worry me; I keeps myself to myself, and speak +civil to all the world. You have to hold the candle to them; for, oh +dear! if they 're crossed--some of them--they 're a dreadful +unscrup'lous lot of men!" + +"Are you going to spend the night here?" + +"It's nice and warm to-night," replied the aged butler. "I said to +the man at that low place I said: 'Don't you ever speak to me again,' +I said, 'don't you come near me!' Straightforward and honest 's been +my motto all my life; I don't want to have nothing to say to them low +fellows"--he made an annihilating gesture--"after the way they +treated me, takin' my things like that. Tomorrow I shall get a room +for three shillin's a week, don't you think so, sir? Well, then I +shall be all right. I 'm not afraid now; the mind at rest. So long +as I ran keep myself, that's all I want. I shall do first-rate, I +think"; and he stared at Shelton, but the look in his eyes and the +half-scared optimism of his voice convinced the latter that he lived +in dread. "So long as I can keep myself," he said again, "I sha'n't +need no workhouse nor lose respectability." + +"No," thought Shelton; and for some time sat without a word. "When +you can;" he said at last, "come and see me; here's my card." + +The aged butler became conscious with a jerk, for he was nodding. + +"Thank ye, sir; I will," he said, with pitiful alacrity. "Down by +Belgravia? Oh, I know it well; I lived down in them parts with a +gentleman of the name of Bateson--perhaps you knew him; he 's dead +now--the Honourable Bateson. Thank ye, sir; I'll be sure to come"; +and, snatching at his battered hat, he toilsomely secreted Shelton's +card amongst his character. A minute later he began again to nod. + +The policeman passed a second time; his gaze seemed to say, "Now, +what's a toff doing on that seat with those two rotters?" And +Shelton caught his eye. + +"Ah!" he thought; "exactly! You don't know what to make of me--a +man of my position sitting here! Poor devil! to spend your days in +spying on your fellow-creatures! Poor devil! But you don't know +that you 're a poor devil, and so you 're not one." + +The man on the next bench sneezed--a shrill and disapproving sneeze. + +The policeman passed again, and, seeing that the lower creatures were +both dozing, he spoke to Shelton: + +"Not very safe on these 'ere benches, sir," he said; "you never know +who you may be sittin' next to. If I were you, sir, I should be +gettin' on--if you 're not goin' to spend the night here, that is"; +and he laughed, as at an admirable joke. + +Shelton looked at him, and itched to say, "Why shouldn't I?" but it +struck him that it would sound very odd. "Besides," he thought, "I +shall only catch a cold"; and, without speaking, he left the seat, +and went along towards his rooms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE END + +He reached his rooms at midnight so exhausted that, without waiting +to light up, he dropped into a chair. The curtains and blinds had +been removed for cleaning, and the tall windows admitted the night's +staring gaze. Shelton fixed his eyes on that outside darkness, as +one lost man might fix his eyes upon another. + +An unaired, dusty odour clung about the room, but, like some God-sent +whiff of grass or flowers wafted to one sometimes in the streets, a +perfume came to him, the spice from the withered clove carnation +still clinging, to his button-hole; and he suddenly awoke from his. +queer trance. There was a decision to be made. He rose to light a +candle; the dust was thick on everything he touched. "Ugh!" he +thought, "how wretched!" and the loneliness that had seized him on +the stone seat at Holm Oaks the day before returned with fearful +force. + +On his table, heaped without order, were a pile of bills and +circulars. He opened them, tearing at their covers with the random +haste of men back from their holidays. A single long envelope was +placed apart. + +MY DEAR DICK [he read], + +I enclose you herewith the revised draft of your marriage settlement. +It is now shipshape. Return it before the end of the week, and I +will have it engrossed for signature. I go to Scotland next +Wednesday for a month; shall be back in good time for your wedding. +My love to your mother when you see her. + Your-affectionate uncle, + EDMUND PARAMOR. + + +Shelton smiled and took out the draft. + +"This Indenture made the____day of 190_, between Richard Paramor +Shelton---" + +He put it down and sank back in his chair, the chair in which the +foreign vagrant had been wont to sit on mornings when he came to +preach philosophy. + +He did not stay there long, but in sheer unhappiness got up, and, +taking his candle, roamed about the room, fingering things, and +gazing in the mirror at his face, which seemed to him repulsive in +its wretchedness. He went at last into the hall and opened the door, +to go downstairs again into the street; but the sudden certainty +that, in street or house, in town or country, he would have to take +his trouble with him, made him shut it to. He felt in the letter- +box, drew forth a letter, and with this he went back to the sitting- +room. + +It was from Antonia. And such was his excitement that he was forced +to take three turns between the window and the wall before he could +read; then, with a heart beating so that he could hardly hold the +paper, he began: + +I was wrong to ask you to go away. I see now that it was breaking my +promise, and I did n't mean to do that. I don't know why things have +come to be so different. You never think as I do about anything. + +I had better tell you that that letter of Monsieur Ferrand's to +mother was impudent. Of course you did n't know what was in it; but +when Professor Brayne was asking you about him at breakfast, I felt +that you believed that he was right and we were wrong, and I can't +understand it. And then in the afternoon, when that woman hurt her +horse, it was all as if you were on her side. How can you feel like +that? + +I must say this, because I don't think I ought to have asked you to +go away, and I want you to believe that I will keep my promise, or I +should feel that you and everybody else had a right to condemn me. +I was awake all last night, and have a bad headache this morning. I +can't write any more. + +ANTONIA. + + +His first sensation was a sort of stupefaction of relief that had in +it an element of anger. He was reprieved! She would not break her +promise; she considered herself bound! In the midst of the +exaltation of this thought he smiled, and that smile was strange. + +He read it through again, and, like a judge, began to weigh what she +had written, her thoughts when she was writing, the facts which had +led up to this. + +The vagrant's farewell document had done the business. True to his +fatal gift of divesting things of clothing, Ferrand had not vanished +without showing up his patron in his proper colours; even to Shelton +those colours were made plain. Antonia had felt her lover was a +traitor. Sounding his heart even in his stress of indecision, +Shelton knew that this was true. + +"Then in the afternoon, when that woman hurt her horse-" That woman! +"It was as if you were on her side!" + +He saw too well her mind, its clear rigidity, its intuitive +perception of that with which it was not safe to sympathise, its +instinct for self-preservation, its spontaneous contempt for those +without that instinct. And she had written these words considering +herself bound to him--a man of sentiment, of rebellious sympathies, +of untidiness of principle! Here was the answer to the question he +had asked all day: "How have things come to such a pass?" and he +began to feel compassion for her. + +Poor child! She could not jilt him; there was something vulgar in +the word! Never should it be said that Antonia Dennant had accented +him and thrown him over. No lady did these things! They were +impossible! At the bottom of his heart he had a queer, unconscious +sympathy with, this impossibility. + +Once again he read the letter, which seemed now impregnated with +fresh meaning, and the anger which had mingled with his first +sensation of relief detached itself and grew in force. In that +letter there was something tyrannous, a denial of his right to have a +separate point of view. It was like a finger pointed at him as an +unsound person. In marrying her he would be marrying not only her, +but her class--his class. She would be there always to make him look +on her and on himself, and all the people that they knew and all the +things they did, complacently; she would be there to make him feel +himself superior to everyone whose life was cast in other moral +moulds. To feel himself superior, not blatantly, not consciously, +but with subconscious righteousness. + +But his anger, which was like the paroxysm that two days before had +made him mutter at the Connoisseur, "I hate your d---d superiority," +struck him all at once as impotent and ludicrous. What was the good +of being angry? He was on the point of losing her! And the anguish +of that thought, reacting on his anger, intensified it threefold. +She was so certain of herself, so superior to her emotions, to her +natural impulses--superior to her very longing to be free from him. +Of that fact, at all events, Shelton had no longer any doubt. It was +beyond argument. She did not really love him; she wanted to be free +of him! + +A photograph hung in his bedroom at Holm Oaks of a group round the +hall door; the Honourable Charlotte Penguin, Mrs. Dennant, Lady +Bonington, Halidome, Mr. Dennant, and the stained-glass man--all were +there; and on the left-hand side, looking straight in front of her, +Antonia. Her face in its youthfulness, more than all those others, +expressed their point of view: Behind those calm young eyes lay a +world of safety and tradition. "I am not as others are," they seemed +to say. + +And from that photograph Mr. and Mrs. Dennant singled themselves out; +he could see their faces as they talked--their faces with a peculiar +and uneasy look on them; and he could hear their voices, still +decisive, but a little acid, as if they had been quarrelling: + +"He 's made a donkey of himself!" + +"Ah! it's too distressin'!" + +They, too, thought him unsound, and did n't want him; but to save the +situation they would be glad to keep him. She did n't want him, but +she refused to lose her right to say, "Commoner girls may break their +promises; I will not!" He sat down at the table between the candles, +covering his face. His grief and anger grew and grew within him. If +she would not free herself, the duty was on him! She was ready +without love to marry him, as a sacrifice to her ideal of what she +ought to be! + +But she had n't, after all, the monopoly of pride! + +As if she stood before him, he could see the shadows underneath her +eyes that he had dreamed of kissing, the eager movements of her lips. +For several minutes he remained, not moving hand or limb. Then once +more his anger blazed. She was going to sacrifice herself and--him! +All his manhood scoffed at such a senseless sacrifice. That was not +exactly what he wanted! + +He went to the bureau, took a piece of paper and an envelope, and +wrote as follows: + +There never was, is not, and never would have been any question of +being bound between us. I refuse to trade on any such thing. You +are absolutely free. Our engagement is at an end by mutual consent. + + RICHARD SHELTON. + + +He sealed it, and, sitting with his hands between his knees, he let +his forehead droop lower and lower to the table, till it rested on +his marriage settlement. And he had a feeling of relief, like one +who drops exhausted at his journey's end. + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Island Pharisees, by John Galsworthy + |