the way of all flesh-第19节

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the　reader。　　There　was　the　most　perfect　sympathy　and　understanding
between　us；　we　knew　that　neither　of　us　would　marry　anyone　else。　　I
had　asked　her　to　marry　me　a　dozen　times　over；　having　said　this　much
I　will　say　no　more　upon　a　point　which　is　in　no　way　necessary　for　the
development　of　my　story。　　For　the　last　few　years　there　had　been
difficulties　in　the　way　of　our　meeting；　and　I　had　not　seen　her；
though；　as　I　have　said；　keeping　up　a　close　correspondence　with　her。
Naturally　I　was　overjoyed　to　meet　her　again；　she　was　now　just　thirty
years　old；　but　I　thought　she　looked　handsomer　than　ever。

Her　father；　of　course；　was　the　lion　of　the　party；　but　seeing　that　we
were　all　meek　and　quite　willing　to　be　eaten；　he　roared　to　us　rather
than　at　us。　　It　was　a　fine　sight　to　see　him　tucking　his　napkin　under
his　rosy　old　gills；　and　letting　it　fall　over　his　capacious　waistcoat
while　the　high　light　from　the　chandelier　danced　about　the　bump　of
benevolence　on　his　bald　old　head　like　a　star　of　Bethlehem。

The　soup　was　real　turtle；　the　old　gentleman　was　evidently　well
pleased　and　he　was　beginning　to　come　out。　　Gelstrap　stood　behind　his
master's　chair。　　I　sat　next　Mrs　Theobald　on　her　left　hand；　and　was
thus　just　opposite　her　father…in…law；　whom　I　had　every　opportunity
of　observing。

During　the　first　ten　minutes　or　so；　which　were　taken　up　with　the
soup　and　the　bringing　in　of　the　fish；　I　should　probably　have
thought；　if　I　had　not　long　since　made　up　my　mind　about　him；　what　a
fine　old　man　he　was　and　how　proud　his　children　should　be　of　him；　but
suddenly　as　he　was　helping　himself　to　lobster　sauce；　he　flushed
crimson；　a　look　of　extreme　vexation　suffused　his　face；　and　he　darted
two　furtive　but　fiery　glances　to　the　two　ends　of　the　table；　one　for
Theobald　and　one　for　Christina。　　They；　poor　simple　souls；　of　course
saw　that　something　was　exceedingly　wrong；　and　so　did　I；　but　I
couldn't　guess　what　it　was　till　I　heard　the　old　man　hiss　in
Christina's　ear：　　〃It　was　not　made　with　a　hen　lobster。　　What's　the
use；〃　he　continued；　〃of　my　calling　the　boy　Ernest；　and　getting　him
christened　in　water　from　the　Jordan；　if　his　own　father　does　not　know
a　cock　from　a　hen　lobster？〃

This　cut　me　too；　for　I　felt　that　till　that　moment　I　had　not　so　much
as　known　that　there　were　cocks　and　hens　among　lobsters；　but　had
vaguely　thought　that　in　the　matter　of　matrimony　they　were　even　as
the　angels　in　heaven；　and　grew　up　almost　spontaneously　from　rocks
and　sea…weed。

Before　the　next　course　was　over　Mr　Pontifex　had　recovered　his
temper；　and　from　that　time　to　the　end　of　the　evening　he　was　at　his
best。　　He　told　us　all　about　the　water　from　the　Jordan；　how　it　had
been　brought　by　Dr　Jones　along　with　some　stone　jars　of　water　from
the　Rhine；　the　Rhone；　the　Elbe　and　the　Danube；　and　what　trouble　he
had　had　with　them　at　the　Custom　Houses；　and　how　the　intention　had
been　to　make　punch　with　waters　from　all　the　greatest　rivers　in
Europe；　and　how　he；　Mr　Pontifex；　had　saved　the　Jordan　water　from
going　into　the　bowl；　etc。；　etc。　　〃No；　no；　no；〃　he　continued；　〃it
wouldn't　have　done　at　all；　you　know；　very　profane　idea；　so　we　each
took　a　pint　bottle　of　it　home　with　us；　and　the　punch　was　much　better
without　it。　　I　had　a　narrow　escape　with　mine；　though；　the　other　day；
I　fell　over　a　hamper　in　the　cellar；　when　I　was　getting　it　up　to
bring　to　Battersby；　and　if　I　had　not　taken　the　greatest　care　the
bottle　would　certainly　have　been　broken；　but　I　saved　it。〃　　And
Gelstrap　was　standing　behind　his　chair　all　the　time！

Nothing　more　happened　to　ruffle　Mr　Pontifex；　so　we　had　a　delightful
evening；　which　has　often　recurred　to　me　while　watching　the　after
career　of　my　godson。

I　called　a　day　or　two　afterwards　and　found　Mr　Pontifex　still　at
Battersby；　laid　up　with　one　of　those　attacks　of　liver　and　depression
to　which　he　was　becoming　more　and　more　subject。　　I　stayed　to
luncheon。　　The　old　gentleman　was　cross　and　very　difficult；　he　could
eat　nothinghad　no　appetite　at　all。　　Christina　tried　to　coax　him
with　a　little　bit　of　the　fleshy　part　of　a　mutton　chop。　　〃How　in　the
name　of　reason　can　I　be　asked　to　eat　a　mutton　chop？〃　he　exclaimed
angrily；　〃you　forget；　my　dear　Christina；　that　you　have　to　deal　with
a　stomach　that　is　totally　disorganised；〃　and　he　pushed　the　plate
from　him；　pouting　and　frowning　like　a　naughty　old　child。　　Writing　as
I　do　by　the　light　of　a　later　knowledge；　I　suppose　I　should　have　seen
nothing　in　this　but　the　world's　growing　pains；　the　disturbance
inseparable　from　transition　in　human　things。　　I　suppose　in　reality
not　a　leaf　goes　yellow　in　autumn　without　ceasing　to　care　about　its
sap　and　making　the　parent　tree　very　uncomfortable　by　long　growling
and　grumblingbut　surely　nature　might　find　some　less　irritating　way
of　carrying　on　business　if　she　would　give　her　mind　to　it。　　Why
should　the　generations　overlap　one　another　at　all？　　Why　cannot　we　be
buried　as　eggs　in　neat　little　cells　with　ten　or　twenty　thousand
pounds　each　wrapped　round　us　in　Bank　of　England　notes；　and　wake　up；
as　the　sphex　wasp　does；　to　find　that　its　papa　and　mamma　have　not
only　left　ample　provision　at　its　elbow；　but　have　been　eaten　by
sparrows　some　weeks　before　it　began　to　live　consciously　on　its　own
account？

About　a　year　and　a　half　afterwards　the　tables　were　turned　on
Battersbyfor　Mrs　John　Pontifex　was　safely　delivered　of　a　boy。　　A
year　or　so　later　still；　George　Pontifex　was　himself　struck　down
suddenly　by　a　fit　of　paralysis；　much　as　his　mother　had　been；　but　he
did　not　see　the　years　of　his　mother。　　When　his　will　was　opened；　it
was　found　that　an　original　bequest　of　20；000　pounds　to　Theobald
himself　（over　and　above　the　sum　that　had　been　settled　upon　him　and
Christina　at　the　time　of　his　marriage）　had　been　cut　down　to　17；500
pounds　when　Mr　Pontifex　left　〃something〃　to　Ernest。　　The　〃something〃
proved　to　be　2500　pounds；　which　was　to　accumulate　in　the　hands　of
trustees。　　The　rest　of　the　property　went　to　John　Pontifex；　except
that　each　of　the　daughters　was　left　with　about　15；000　pounds　over
and　above　5000　pounds　a　piece　which　they　inherited　from　their
mother。

Theobald's　father　then　had　told　him　the　truth　but　not　the　whole
truth。　　Nevertheless；　what　right　had　Theobald　to　complain？
Certainly　it　was　rather　hard　to　make　him　think　that　he　and　his　were
to　be　gainers；　and　get　the　honour　and　glory　of　the　bequest；　when　all
the　time　the　money　was　virtually　being　taken　out　of　Theobald's　own
pocket。　　On　the　other　hand　the　father　doubtless　argued　that　he　had
never　told　Theobald　he　was　to　have　anything　at　all；　he　had　a　full
right　to　do　what　he　liked　with　his　own　money；　if　Theobald　chose　to
indulge　in　unwarrantable　expectations　that　was　no　affair　of　his；　as
it　was　he　was　providing　for　him　liberally；　and　if　he　did　take　2500
pounds　of　Theobald's　share　he　was　still　leaving　it　to　Theobald's
son；　which；　of　course；　was　much　the　same　thing　in　the　end。

No　one　can　deny　that　the　testator　had　strict　right　upon　his　side；
nevertheless　the　reader　will　agree　with　me　that　Theobald　and
Christina　might　not　have　considered　the　christening　dinner　so　great
a　success　if　all　the　facts　had　been　before　them。　　Mr　Pontifex　had
during　his　own　life…time　set　up　a　monument　in　Elmhurst　Church　to　the
memory　of　his　wife　（a　slab　with　urns　and　cherubs　like　illegitimate
children　of　King　George　the　Fourth；　and　all　the　rest　of　it）；　and　had
left　space　for　his　own　epitaph　underneath　that　of　his　wife。　　I　do
not　know　whether　it　was　written　by　one　of　his　children；　or　whether
they　got　some　friend　to　write　it　for　them。　　I　do　not　believe　that
any　satire　was　intended。　　I　believe　that　it　was　the　intention　to
convey　that　nothing　short　of　the　Day　of　Judgement　could　give　anyone
an　idea　how　good　a　man　Mr　Pontifex　had　been；　but　at　first　I　found　it
hard　to　think　that　it　was　free　from　guile。

The　epitaph　begins　by　giving　dates　of　birth　and　death；　then　sets　out
that　the　deceased　was　for　many　years　head　of　the　firm　of　Fairlie　and
Pontifex；　and　also　resident　in　the　parish　of　Elmhurst。　　There　is　not
a　syllable　of　either　praise　or　dispraise。　　The　last　lines　run　as
follows：…


HE　NOW　LIES　AWAITING　A　JOYFUL　RESURRECTION
AT　THE　LAST　DAY。
WHAT　MANNER　OF　MAN　HE　WAS
THAT　DAY　WILL　DISCOVER。



CHAPTER　XIX



This　much；　however；　we　may　say　in　the　meantime；　that　having　lived　to
be　nearly　seventy…three　years　old　and　died　rich　he　must　have　been　in
very　fair　harmony　with　his　surroundings。　　I　have　heard　it　said
sometimes　that　such　and　such　a　person's　life　was　a　lie：　　but　no
man's　life　can　be　a　very　bad　lie；　as　long　as　it　continues　at　all　it
is　at　worst　nine…tenths　of　it　true。

Mr　Pontifex's　life　not　only　continued　a　long　time；　but　was
prosperous　right　up　to　the　end。　　Is　not　this　enough？　　Being　in　this
world　is　it　not　our　most　obvious　business　to　make　the　most　of　itto
observe　what　things　do　bona　fide　tend　to　long　life　and　comfort；　and
to　act　accordingly？　　All　animals；　except　man；　know　that　the
principal　business　of　life　is　to　enjoy　itand　they　do　enjoy　it　as
much　as　man　and　other　circumstances　will　allow。　　He　has　spent　his
life　best　who　has　enjoyed　it　most；　God　will　take　care　that　we　do　not
enjoy　it　any　more　than　is　good　for　us。　　If　Mr　Pontifex　is　to　be
blamed　it　is　for　not　having　eaten　and　drunk　less　and　thus