all roads lead to calvary-第20节
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harbours； conducted the traffic； reared the market place。 She knew of the steam engine； employed it for pumping water in the age of the Antonines。 Sooner or later； she would have placed it on rails； and in ships。 Rome should have been the policeman； keeping the world in order； making it a fit habitation。 Her mistake was in regarding these things as an end in themselves； dreaming of nothing beyond。 From her we had inherited the fallacy that man was made for the world； not the world for man。 Rome organized only for man's body。 Greece would have legislated for his soul。
They went into the drawing…room。 Her father asked her to sing and Arthur opened the piano for her and lit the candles。 She chose some ballads and a song of Herrick's； playing her own accompaniment while Arthur turned the leaves。 She had a good voice； a low contralto。 The room was high and dimly lighted。 It looked larger than it really was。 Her father sat in his usual chair beside the fire and listened with half…closed eyes。 Glancing now and then across at him； she was reminded of Orchardson's picture。 She was feeling sentimental； a novel sensation to her。 She rather enjoyed it。
She finished with one of Burns's lyrics； and then told Arthur that it was now his turn； and that she would play for him。 He shook his head； pleading that he was out of practice。
〃I wish it；〃 she said； speaking low。 And it pleased her that he made no answer but to ask her what he should sing。 He had a light tenor voice。 It was wobbly at first； but improved as he went on。 They ended with a duet。
The next morning she went into town with them。 She never seemed to have any time in London； and wanted to do some shopping。 They joined her again for lunch and afterwards； at her father's suggestion； she and Arthur went for a walk。 They took the tram out of the city and struck into the country。 The leaves still lingered brown and red upon the trees。 He carried her cloak and opened gates for her and held back brambles while she passed。 She had always been indifferent to these small gallantries； but to…day she welcomed them。 She wished to feel her power to attract and command。 They avoided all subjects on which they could differ； even in words。 They talked of people and places they had known together。 They remembered their common love of animals and told of the comedies and tragedies that had befallen their pets。 Joan's regret was that she had not now even a dog； thinking it cruel to keep them in London。 She hated the women she met； dragging the poor little depressed beasts about at the end of a string： savage with them； if they dared to stop for a moment to exchange a passing wag of the tail with some other little lonely sufferer。 It was as bad as keeping a lark in a cage。 She had tried a cat： but so often she did not get home till late and that was just the time when the cat wanted to be out； so that they seldom met。 He suggested a parrot。 His experience of them was that they had no regular hours and would willingly sit up all night； if encouraged； and talk all the time。 Joan's objection to running a parrot was that it stamped you as an old maid； and she wasn't that； at least； not yet。 She wondered if she could make an owl really happy。 Minerva had an owl。
He told her how one spring； walking across a common； after a fire； he had found a mother thrush burnt to death upon her nest； her charred wings spread out in a vain endeavour to protect her brood。 He had buried her there among the blackened thorn and furze； and placed a little cross of stones above her。
〃I hope nobody saw me；〃 he said with a laugh。 〃But I couldn't bear to leave her there； unhonoured。〃
〃It's one of the things that make me less certain than I want to be of a future existence；〃 said Joan： 〃the thought that animals can have no part in it； that all their courage and love and faithfulness dies with them and is wasted。〃
〃Are you sure it is？〃 he answered。 〃It would be so unreasonable。〃
They had tea at an old…fashioned inn beside a stream。 It was a favourite resort in summer time； but now they had it to themselves。 The wind had played pranks with her hair and he found a mirror and knelt before her； holding it。
She stood erect； looking down at him while seeming to be absorbed in the rearrangement of her hair； feeling a little ashamed of herself。 She was 〃encouraging〃 him。 There was no other word for it。 She seemed to have developed a sudden penchant for this sort of thing。 It would end in his proposing to her； and then she would have to tell him that she cared for him only in a cousinly sort of waywhatever that might meanand that she could never marry him。 She dared not ask herself why。 She must manoeuvre to put it off as long as possible； and meanwhile some opening might occur to enlighten him。 She would talk to him about her work； and explain to him how she had determined to devote her life to it to the exclusion of all other distractions。 If； then； he chose to go on loving heror if he couldn't help itthat would not be her fault。 After all； it did him no harm。 She could always be gracious and kind to him。 It was not as if she had tricked him。 He had always loved her。 Kneeling before her； serving her： it was evident it made him supremely happy。 It would be cruel of her to end it。
The landlady entered unexpectedly with the tea； but he did not rise till Joan turned away； nor did he seem disconcerted。 Neither did the landlady。 She was an elderly； quiet…eyed woman； and had served more than one generation of young people with their teas。
They returned home by train。 Joan insisted on travelling third class； and selected a compartment containing a stout woman and two children。 Arthur had to be at the works。 An important contract had got behindhand and they were working overtime。 She and her father dined alone。 He made her fulfil her promise to talk about herself； and she told him all she thought would interest him。 She passed lightly over her acquaintanceship with Phillips。 He would regard it as highly undesirable； she told herself； and it would trouble him。 He was reading her articles in the Sunday Post； as also her Letters from Clorinda： and of the two preferred the latter as being less subversive of law and order。 Also he did not like seeing her photograph each week； displayed across two columns with her name beneath in one inch type。 He supposed he was old… fashioned。 She was getting rather tired of it herself。
〃The Editor insisted upon it；〃 she explained。 〃It was worth it for the opportunity it gives me。 I preach every Sunday to a congregation of over a million souls。 It's better than being a Bishop。 Besides；〃 she added； 〃the men are just as bad。 You see their silly faces everywhere。〃
〃That's like you women；〃 he answered with a smile。 〃You pretend to be superior； and then you copy us。〃
She laughed。 But the next moment she was serious。
〃No； we don't；〃 she said； 〃not those of us who think。 We know we shall never oust man from his place。 He will always be the greater。 We want to help him； that's all。〃
〃But wasn't that the Lord's idea；〃 he said； 〃when He gave Eve to Adam to be his helpmeet？〃
〃Yes； that was all right；〃 she answered。 〃He fashioned Eve for Adam and saw that Adam got her。 The ideal marriage might have been the ideal solution。 If the Lord had intended that； he should have kept the match…making in His own hands： not have left it to man。 Somewhere in Athens there must have been the helpmeet God had made for Socrates。 When they met； it was Xanthippe that she kissed。〃
A servant brought the coffee and went out again。 Her father lighted a cigar and handed her the cigarettes。
〃Will it shock you； Dad？〃 she asked。
〃Rather late in the day for you to worry yourself about that； isn't it？〃 he answered with a smile。
He struck a match and held it for her。 Joan sat with her elbows on the table and smoked in silence。 She was thinking。
Why had he never 〃brought her up；〃 never exacted obedience from her； never even tried to influence her？ It could not have been mere weakness。 She stole a sidelong glance at the tired； lined face with its steel…blue eyes。 She had never seen them other than calm； but they must have been able to flash。 Why had he always been so just and kind and patient with her？ Why had he never scolded her and bullied her and teased her？ Why had he let her go away； leaving him lonely in his empty； voiceless house？ Why had he never made any claim upon her？ The idea came to her as an inspiration。 At least； it would ease her conscience。 〃Why don't you let Arthur live here；〃 she said； 〃instead of going back to his lodgings？ It would be company for you。〃
He did not answer for some time。 She had begun to wonder if he had heard。
〃What do you think of him？〃 he said； without looking at her。
〃Oh； he's quite a nice lad；〃 she answered。
It was some while again before he spoke。 〃He will be the last of the Allways；〃 he said。 〃I should like to think of the name being continued； and he's a good business man； in spite of his dreaminess。 Perhaps he would get on better with the men。〃
She seized at the chance of changing the subject。
〃It was a foolish notion；〃 she said； 〃that of the Ma
