the captives-第20节

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Therefore　she　drew　near　to　her　mother　and　the　two　of　them　watched　and　waited　。　。　。

His　mother　was　knitting。　She　lifted　to　him　her　pink　wrinkled　face　and；　her　spectacles　balanced　on　the　end　of　her　nose；　smiled　the　smile　of　the　dearest　old　lady　in　the　world。

〃Well；　dear；　and　have　you　had　a　pleasant　day？〃

〃All　right；　mother；　thank　you。　Funny　thing；　met　a　man　in　the　street；　hadn't　seen　for　five　years。　Saw　him　last　in　RioFunny　thing。　Well；　we　lunched　together。　Not　a　bad　fellowSeen　a　thing　or　two；　he　has。〃

Mrs。　Warlock　counted　her　stitches。　〃Fourteen；　fifteen；　sixteen　。　。　。　How　nice　for　you；　dear。　What　was　his　name？〃

〃Thompson　。　。　。　I　say；〃　Martin　suddenly　raised　his　head　as　though　he　heard　something；　〃where's　Amy？〃

〃Changing。　She's　been　paying　a　call　on　the　Miss　Cardinals。　Thought　it　would　be　polite　because　of　the　new　niece。Six；　seven；　eight　and　nine　。　。　。〃

〃What　did　she　think　of　her？〃

〃Of　whom；　dear？〃

〃Of　the　niece。〃

〃Oh；　I　don't　think　she　liked　her　very　much。　She　said　that　she　was　plain　and　silentand　looked　cross；　Amy　thought。〃

〃Oh　yes；　Amy　would。〃　His　face；　as　was　his　way　when　he　was　vexed；　flushed　very　slowly；　the　deeper　red　rising　through　the　red…brown　until；　ceasing　in　the　middle　of　his　forehead；　it　left　a　white　line　beneath　his　hair。　〃She　isn't　cross　a　bit。〃

〃I　don't　know；　dear。　It　isn't　my　opinion。　I　only　tell　you　what　Amy　said。　People　here　don't　seem　to　like　her。　Mrs。　Smith　was　telling　me　yesterday　that　she's　so　difficult　to　talk　to　and　seems　to　know　nothing　about　anything；　poor　girl。〃

〃Mrs。　Smith！〃　He　swung　his　body　on　his　hips　indignantly。　〃A　lot　she　knows　about　anything！　I　hate　that　woman　and　her　chattering　daughter。〃

〃Well；　dear；　I　don't　know；　I'm　sure；　Mrs。　Smith　always　seems　to　me　very　kind。〃

He　looked　at　her　as　though　he　had　suddenly　remembered　something。

〃I　sayis　it　true　what　Amy　says；　that　I　woke　you　up　this　morning　when　I　went　out　by　banging　my　door？〃

〃I'm　sure　you　didn't。Amy　shouldn't　say　such　things。　And　if　you　did　what　does　it　matter？　I　sleep　so　badly　that　half　an　hour　more　or　less　makes　very　little　difference。〃

〃Well；　she　says　so〃　He　went　on；　dropping　his　voice：　〃I　say；　mother；　what's　the　matter　with　Amy？　Why's　she　so　sick　with　me？　I　haven't　done　anything　to　offend　her；　have　I？〃

〃Of　course　not。　What　a　silly　boy　you　are；　Martin！　Nine；　ten；　eleven　。　。　。　There！　that's　enough　for　this　evening。　I'll　finish　it　in　another　day。　You　mustn't　mind　Amy；　Martin。　She　isn't　always　very　well。〃

The　door　opened　and　Amy　came　in。　She　was　a　tall　gaunt　woman　who　looked　a　great　deal　older　than　her　brother。　She　did　not　make　the　best　of　herself；　brushing　her　thin　black　hair　straight　back　from　her　bony　forehead。　She　had　a　habit　of　half　closing　her　eyes　when　she　peered　at　some　one　as　though　she　could　not　see。　She　should；　long　ago；　have　worn　spectacles；　but　from　some　strange　half…conscious　vanity　had　always　refused　to　do　so。　Every　year　her　sight　grew　worse。　She　was　wearing　now　a　dress　of　black　silk；　very　badly　made；　cut　to　display　her　long　skinny　neck　and　bony　shoulders。　She　wore　her　clothes　as　though　she　struggled　between　a　disdain　for　such　vanities　and　a　desire　to　appear　attractive。　Her　manner　of　twisting　her　eyelids　and　wrinkling　her　nose　gave　her　a　peevish　expression；　but；　behind　that；　there　was　a　hint　of　pathos；　a　half…seen　glimpse　of　a　soul　that　desired　friendship　and　affection。　She　was　very　tall　and　there　was　something　masculine　in　the　long　angularity　of　her　limbs。　She　offered　a　strange　contrast　to　the　broad　and　ruddy　Martin。　There　was；　however；　something　in　the　eyes　of　eachsome　sudden　surprised　almost　visionary　flash　that　came　and　went　that　showed　them　to　be　the　children　of　the　same　father。　To　Mrs。　Warlock　they　bore　no　resemblance　whatever。　Amy　stopped　when　she　saw　her　brother　as　though　she　had　not　expected　him　to　be　there。

〃Well；　Martin；〃　she　saidthen　came　forward　and　sat　in　a　chair　opposite　her　mother。

〃Mr。　Thurston's　coming　to　suppar；〃　she　said。

Martin　frowned。　〃Oh；　hang　it；　what　for？〃　he　cried。

〃He's　taking　me　to　Miss　Aries'　Bible　meeting；〃　Amy　answered　coldly。　〃What　a　baby　you　are　about　people；　Martin。　I　should　have　thought　all　your　living　abroad　so　much　would　have　made　you　understanding。　But　you're　like　the　rest。　You　must　have　every　one　cut　to　the　same　pattern。〃

Martin　looked　up　for　a　moment　as　though　he　would　answer　angrily；　then　he　controlled　himself　and　said；　laughing：　〃I　suppose　I　have　my　prejudices　like　every　one　else。　I　daresay　Thurston's　a　very　good　sort　of　fellow；　but　we　don't　like　one　another；　and　there's　an　end　of　it；　Everybody　can't　like　everybody；　Amywhy；　even　you　don't　like　every　one。〃

〃No；　I　don't；〃　she　answered　shortly。

She　looked　for　an　instant　at　her　mother。　Martin　caught　the　glance　that　passed　between　them；　and　suddenly　the　discomfort　of　which　he　had　been　aware　as　he　stood；　half　an　hour　before；　in　the　street；　returned　to　him　with　redoubled　force。　What　was　the　matter　with　everybody？　What　had　he　done？

〃Well；　I'll　go　and　change；〃　he　said。

〃Dinner　will　be　ready　in　ten　minutes；　dear；〃　said　his　mother。

〃I'll　be　in　time　all　right；〃　he　said。

At　the　door　he　almost　ran　into　Mr。　Thurston。　This　gentleman　had　been　described；　on　some　earlier　occasion；　by　an　unfriendly　observer　as　〃the　Suburban　Savonarola。〃　He　was　tall　and　extremely　thin　with　a　bony　pointed　face　that　was　in　some　lights　grey　and　in　others　white。　He　had　the　excited　staring　eyes　of　a　fanatic；　and　his　hair　now　very　scanty；　was　plastered　over　his　head　in　black　shining　streaks。　He　wore　a　rather　faded　black　suit；　a　white　low　collar　and　a　white　bow　tie。　He　had　a　habit；　at　moments　of　stress；　of　cracking　his　fingers。　He　had　a　very　pronounced　cockney　accent　when　he　was　excited；　at　other　times　he　struggled　against　this　with　some　success。

He　passed　from　brooding　silences　into　sudden　bursts　of　declamation　with　such　abruptness　that　strangers　thought　him　very　eloquent。　When　he　was　excited　the　colour　ran　into　his　nose　as　though　he　had　been　drinking；　and　often　his　ears　were　red。　His　history　was　simple。　The　son　of　a　small　draper　in　Streatham；　he　had　at　an　early　age　joined　himself　to　an　American　Revivalist　called　Harper。　When　after　some　six　years　of　successful　enterprise　Mr。　Harper　had　been　imprisoned　for　forgery；　young　William　Thurston　had　attached　himself　to　a　Christian　Science　Chapel　in　Hoxton。　Then；　somewhere　about　1897；　he　had　met　Miss　Avies　at　a　Revivalist　Meeting　in　the　Albert　Hall　and；　fascinated　by　her　ardent　spirit；　transferred　his　services　to　the　Kingscote　Brethren。

He　had　now　risen　to　a　position　of　great　importance　in　the　Chapel；　it　was　known　that　he　disagreed　profoundly　with　his　leader　on　some　vital　questions；　and　it　was　thought　that　he　might　at　a　later　date　definitely　secede　and　conduct　a　party　of　his　own。

Certainly　he　had　exceptional　energies　and　gifts　of　exhortation　and　invective　not　to　be　despised。　Martin　politely　wished　him　〃Good　evening〃　and　escaped　to　his　room。

As　he　changed　his　clothes　he　tried　to　translate　into　definite　facts　his　vague　discomfort。　One；　he　hated　that　swine　Thurston。　Two；　Amy　was　vexed　with　him　（What　strange　impossible　creatures　women　were！）。　Thirdand　by　far　the　most　important　of　them　allhis　father　wanted　to　talk　to　him。　He　knew　very　well　that　this　talk　had　been　preparing　for　him　ever　since　his　return　from　abroad。　He　dreaded　it。　Oh！　he　dreaded　it　most　horribly！

He　loved　his　father　but　with　a　love　that　had　in　it　elements　of　fear；　timidity；　every　possible　sort　of　awkwardness。　Moreover　he　was　helpless。　Ever　since　that　first　day　when　as　a　tiny　child　of　four　or　five　he　had　awakened　to　behold　that　figure；　enormous　in　a　long　night…shirt；　summoning　God　in　the　middle　of　the　night　with　a　candle　flickering　fantastic　shadows　on　to　the　wall　behind　them；　Martin　had　been　weak　as　putty　in　his　father's　hands。　Against　other　men　he　could　stand　up；　against　that　strange　company　of　fears；　affections；　superstitions；　shadowy　terrors；　dim　expectations　that　his　father　presented　to　him　he　could　do　nothing。

Wellthat　conversation　had　to　come　some　time。　He　must　show　that　he　was　a　man　now；　moulded　by　the　world　with　his　own　beliefs；　purposes；　resolves。　But　if　he　did　not　love　him；　how　much　easier　it　would　be！

When　he　went　downstairs　he　found　the　old　man　in　the　little　pink　drawing…roomhe　looked　tired　and　worn。　Martin　remembered　with　alarm　the　things　that　he　had　heard　recently　about　his　father's　heart。　He　glanced　up　and　the　older　man's　hand　fastened　on　his　shoulder；　they　stood　there　side　by　side。　After　a　few　minutes　they　all　went　in　to　supper。

Mr。　Thurston's　nose　was　flushed　with　the　success　of　the　mission　from　which　he　had　just　returned。　He　had　been　one　of　a　number　whose　aim　it　had　been　during　the　preceding　week　to　bring　light　and　happiness　into　the　lives　of　the　inhabitants　of　Putney。　They　had　been　obviously　appreciated；　as　the　collection　for　the　week　had　amounted　to　between　seventy　and　eighty　pounds。　A　proper　share　of　this　fine　result　Mr。　Thurston　naturally　appropriated　to　his　own　efforts。　His　long　tapering　fingers　were　not　so　clean　as　they　might　have　been；　but　this　did　not　prevent　him　from　waving　them　in　the　air　and　pointing　them　at　imaginary　Putney　citizens　whom　he　evoked　in　support　of　his　statements。

〃We　'ad　a　reelly　thumpin'　meeting　on　ThursdayTown　HallOne