a far country-第23节

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dreamed　dreams；　beheld　a　delectable　country　of　my　very　own。　　A　year　ago
nay；　even　a　month　agohow　such　an　invitation　would　have　glittered！。。。　　I
returned　at　length　to　my　theme；　over　which；　before　Jerry's　arrival；　I　had
been　working　feverishly。　　But　now　the　glamour　had　gone　from　it。

Presently　Tom　came　in。

〃Anyone　been　here？〃　he　demanded。

〃Jerry；〃　I　told　him。

〃What　did　he　want？〃

〃He　wanted　me　to　go　home　with　him　at　Easter。〃

〃You're　going；　of　course。〃

〃I　don't　know。　　I　haven't　decided。〃

〃You'd　be　a　fool　not　to；〃　was　Tom's　comment。　　It　voiced；　succinctly；　a
prevailing　opinion。

It　was　the　conclusion　I　arrived　at　in　my　own　mind。　　But　just　why　I　had
been　chosen　for　the　honour；　especially　at　such　a　time；　was　a　riddle。
Jerry's　invitations　were　charily　given；　and　valued　accordingly；　and　more
than　once；　at　our　table；　I　had　felt　a　twinge　of　envy　when　Conybear　or
someone　else　had　remarked；　with　the　proper　nonchalance；　in　answer　to　a
question；　that　they　were　going　to　Weathersfield。　　Such　was　the　name　of
the　Kyme　place。。。。

I　shall　never　forget　the　impression　made　on　me　by　the　decorous　luxury　of
that　big　house；　standing　amidst　its　old　trees；　halfway　up　the　gentle
slope　that　rose　steadily　from　the　historic　highway　where　poor　Andre　was
captured。　　I　can　see　now　the　heavy　stone　pillars　of　its　portico　vignetted
in　a　flush　of　tenderest　green；　the　tulips　just　beginning　to　flame　forth
their　Easter　colours　in　the　well…kept　beds；　the　stately；　well…groomed
evergreens；　the　vivid　lawns；　the　clipped　hedges。　　And　like　an
overwhelming　wave　of　emotion　that　swept　all　before　it；　the　impressiveness
of　wealth　took　possession　of　me。　　For　here　was　a　kind　of　wealth　I　had
never　known；　that　did　not　exist　in　the　West；　nor　even　in　the　still
Puritan　environs　of　Boston　where　I　had　visited。　　It　took　itself　for
granted；　proclaimed　itself　complacently　to　have　solved　all　problems。　　By
ignoring　them；　perhaps。　　But　I　was　too　young　to　guess　this。　　It　was　order
personified；　gaining　effect　at　every　turn　by　a　multitude　of　details　too
trivial　to　mention　were　it　not　for　the　fact　that　they　entered　deeply　into
my　consciousness；　until　they　came　to　represent；　collectively；　the　very
flower　of　achievement。　　It　was　a　wealth　that　accepted　tribute　calmly；　as
of　inherent　right。　　Law　and　tradition　defended　its　sanctity　more
effectively　than　troops。　　Literature　descended　from　her　high　altar　to
lend　it　dignity；　and　the　long；　silent　library　displayed　row　upon　row　of
the　masters；　appropriately　clad　in　morocco　or　calf；Smollett；　Macaulay；
Gibbon；　Richardson；　Fielding；　Scott；　Dickens；　Irving　and　Thackeray；　as
though　each　had　striven　for　a　tablet　here。　　Art　had　denied　herself　that
her　canvases　might　be　hung　on　these　walls；　and　even　the　Church；　on　that
first　Sunday　of　my　visit；　forgot　the　blood　of　her　martyrs　that　she　might
adorn　an　appropriate　niche　in　the　setting。　　The　clergyman；　at　one　of　the
dinner　parties；　gravely　asked　a　blessing　as　upon　an　Institution　that
included　and　absorbed　all　other　institutions　in　its　being。。。。

The　note　of　that　house　was　a　tempered　gaiety。　　Guests　arrived　from　New
York；　spent　the　night　and　departed　again　without　disturbing　the　even
tenor　of　its　ways。　　Unobtrusive　servants　ministered　to　their　wants；and
to　mine。。。。

Conybear　was　there；　and　two　classmates　from　Boston；　and　we　were　treated
with　the　amiable　tolerance　accorded　to　college　youths　and　intimates　of
the　son　of　the　house。　　One　night　there　was　a　dance　in　our　honour。　　Nor
have　I　forgotten　Jerry's　sister；　Nathalie；　whom　I　had　met　at　Class　Days；
a　slim　and　willowy；　exotic　young　lady　of　the　Botticelli　type；　with　a
crown　of　burnished　hair；　yet　more　suggestive　of　a　hothouse　than　of
spring。　　She　spoke　English　with　a　French　accent。　　Capricious；　impulsive；
she　captured　my　interest　because　she　put　a　high　value　on　her　favour；　she
drove　me　over　the　hills；　informing　me　at　length　that　I　was　sympathique
different　from　the　rest；　in　short；　she　emphasized　and　intensified　what　I
may　call　the　Weathersfield　environment；　stirred　up　in　me　new　and　vague
aspirations　that　troubled　yet　excited　me。

Then　there　was　Mrs。　Kyme；　a　pretty；　light…hearted　lady；　still　young；　who
seemed　to　have　no　intention　of　growing　older；　who　romped　and　played　songs
for　us　on　the　piano。　　The　daughter　of　an　old　but　now　impecunious
Westchester　family；　she　had　been　born　to　adorn　the　position　she　held；　she
was　adapted　by　nature　to　wring　from　it　the　utmost　of　the　joys　it　offered。
From　her；　rather　than　from　her　husband；　both　of　the　children　seemed　to
have　inherited。　　I　used　to　watch　Mr。　Grosvenor　Kyme　as　he　sat　at　the　end
of　the　dinner…table；　dark；　preoccupied；　taciturn；　symbolical　of　a　wealth
new　to　my　experience；　and　which　had　about　it　a　certain　fabulous　quality。
It　toiled　not；　neither　did　it　spin；　but　grew　as　if　by　magic；　day　and
night；　until　the　very　conception　of　it　was　overpowering。　　What　must　it　be
to　have　had　ancestors　who　had　been　clever　enough　to　sit　still　until　a
congested　and　discontented　Europe　had　begun　to　pour　its　thousands　and
hundreds　of　thousands　into　the　gateway　of　the　western　world；　until　that
gateway　had　become　a　metropolis？　ancestors；　of　course；　possessing　what
now　suddenly　appeared　to　me　as　the　most　desirable　of　giftssince　it
reaped　so　dazzling　a　harvest…business　foresight。　　From　time　to　time　these
ancestors　had　continued　to　buy　desirable　corners；　which　no　amount　of
persuasion　had　availed　to　make　them　relinquish。　　Lease　them；　yes；　sell
them；　never！　　By　virtue　of　such　a　system　wealth　was　as　inevitable　as
human　necessity；　and　the　thought　of　human　necessity　did　not　greatly
bother　me。　　Mr。　Kyme's　problem　of　life　was　not　one　of　making　money；　but
of　investing　it。　　One　became　automatically　a　personage。。。。

It　was　due　to　one　of　those　singular　coincidencesso　interesting　a
subject　for　speculationthat　the　man　who　revealed　to　me　this　golden
romance　of　the　Kyme　family　was　none　other　than　a　resident　of　my　own　city；
Mr。　Theodore　Watling；　now　become　one　of　our　most　important　and
influential　citizens；　a　corporation　lawyer；　new　and　stimulating
qualification；　suggesting　as　it　did；　a　deus　ex　machina　of　great　affairs。
That　he；　of　all　men；　should　come　to　Weathersfield　astonished　me；　since　I
was　as　yet　to　make　the　connection　between　that　finished；　decorous；
secluded　existence　and　the　source　of　its　being。　　The　evening　before　my
departure　he　arrived　in　company　with　two　other　gentlemen；　a　Mr。　Talbot
and　a　Mr。　Saxes；　whose　names　were　spoken　with　respect　in　a　sphere　of
which　I　had　hitherto　taken　but　little　cognizance…Wall　Street。　　Conybear
informed　me　that　they　were　〃magnates；〃。。。　　We　were　sitting　in　the
drawing…room　at　tea；　when　they　entered　with　Mr。　Watling；　and　no　sooner
had　he　spoken　to　Mrs。　Kyme　than　his　quick　eye　singled　me　out　of　the
group。

〃Why；　Hugh！〃　he　exclaimed；　taking　my　hand。　　〃I　had　no　idea　I　should　meet
you　hereI　saw　your　father　only　last　week；　the　day　I　left　home。〃　　And　he
added；　turning　to　Mrs。　Kyme；　〃Hugh　is　the　son　of　Mr。　Matthew　Paret；　who
has　been　the　leader　of　our　bar　for　many　years。〃

The　recognition　and　the　tribute　to　my　father　were　so　graciously　given
that　I　warmed　with　gratitude　and　pride；　while　Mr。　Kyme　smiled　a　little；
remarking　that　I　was　a　friend　of　Jerry's。　　Theodore　Watling；　for　being
here；　had　suddenly　assumed　in　my　eyes　a　considerable　consequence；　though
the　note　he　struck　in　that　house　was　a　strange　one。　　It　was；　however；　his
own　note；　and　had　a　certain　distinction；　a　ring　of　independence；　of　the
knowledge　of　self…worth。　　Dinner　at　Weathersfield　we　youngsters　had
usually　found　rather　an　oppressive　ceremony；　with　its　shaded　lights　and
precise　ritual　over　which　Mr。　Kyme　presided　like　a　high　priest；
conversation　had　been　restrained。　　That　night；　as　Johnnie　Laurens
afterwards　expressed　it；　〃things　loosened　up；〃　and　Mr。　Watling　was
responsible　for　the　loosening。　　Taking　command　of　the　Kyme　dinner　table
appeared　to　me　to　be　no　mean　achievement；　but　this　is　just　what　he　did；
without　being　vulgar　or　noisy　or　assertive。　　Suavitar　in　modo；　forbiter
in　re。　　If；　as　I　watched　him　there　with　a　newborn　pride　and　loyalty；　I
had　paused　to　reconstruct　the　idea　that　the　mention　of　his　name　would
formerly　have　evoked；　I　suppose　I　should　have　found　him　falling　short　of
my　notion　of　a　gentleman；　it　had　been　my　father's　opinion；　but　Mr。
Watling's　marriage　to　Gene　Hollister's　aunt　had　given　him　a　standing　with
us　at　home。　　He　possessed　virility；　vitality　in　a　remarkable　degree；　yet
some　elusive　quality　that　was　neither　tact　nor　delicacythough　related
to　these　differentiated　him　from　the　commonplace；　self…made　man　of
ability。　　He　was　just　off　the　type。　　To　liken　him　to　a　clothing　store
model　of　a　well…built；　broad…shouldered　man　with　a　firm　neck；　a　handsome；
rather　square　face　not　lacking　in　colour　and　a　conventional；　drooping
moustache　would　be　slanderous；　yet　he　did　suggest　it。　　Suggesting　it；　he
redeemed　it：　and　the　middle　western　burr　in　his　voice　was　rather
attractive　than　otherwise。　　He　had　not　so　much　the　air　of　belonging
there；　as　of　belonging　anywhereone　of　those　anomalistic　American
citizens　of　the　world　who　go　abroad　and　make　intimates　of　princes。
Before　the　meal　was　over　he　had　inspired　me　with　loyalty　and　pri