the captives-第21节

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f　his　statements。

〃We　'ad　a　reelly　thumpin'　meeting　on　ThursdayTown　HallOne　for　the　women　in　the　small　'all　hand　one　for　the　men　in　the　Main　Hall。　Almost　no　opposition　you　might　say；　and　when　it　came　to　the　Hymn　singing　it　fairly　took　the　roof　off。　A　lot　of　'em　stopped　afterwardsone　lad　of　eighteen　or　so　is　coming　over　to　us　'ere。　Butcher's　apprentice。　Says　'e's　felt　the　Lord　pressing　him　a　long　way　back　but　the　flesh　held　him。　Might　work　him　up　into　a　very　useful　lad　with　the　Lord's　help。　Thank　you；　Mrs。　Warlock；　I　will　try　a　bit　more　of　that　cold　beef　if　you　don't　mind。　Pretty　place；　Putney。　Ever　been　there；　Mr。　Warlock？　Ah；　you　should　go〃

Amy　Warlock　listened　with　the　greatest　interest；　otherwise；　it　must　be　confessed；　Mr。　Thurston's　audience　was　somewhat　inattentive。　Mr。　Warlock's　mind　was　obviously　elsewhere；　he　passed　his　hand　through　his　beard；　his　eyes　staring　at　the　table…cloth。　Mr。　Thurston；　noticing　this；　tried　another　topic。

〃What　'ave　you　heard；　Mrs。　Warlock；　about　the　new　Miss　Cardinal？　I　'aven't　seen　her　yet　myself。〃

Mrs。　Warlock；　who　had　just　given　herself　a　little　piece　of　beef；　some　potato　and　some　spinach；　and　was　arranging　these　delicacies　with　the　greatest　care　upon　her　plate；　just　smiled　without　raising　her　eyes。　Amy　answered

〃I've　seen　her。　I　was　there　this　afternoon。　I　can't　say　that　I　found　her　very　interesting。　Plain…ugly　in　fact。　She　never　opened　her　mouth　all　the　afternoon。　Caroline　Smith　tells　me　that　she　knows　nothing　at　all；　seen　nothing；　been　nowhere。　Bad…tempered　I　should　think。〃

〃Dear；　dear；〃　said　Mr。　Thurston　with　a　gratified　sigh；　〃is　it　so　reelly？〃

Martin　looked　across　at　his　sister　indignantly。　〃Trust　one　woman　about　another；〃　he　said。　〃Just　because　she　doesn't　chatter　like　a　magpie　you　concluded　she's　got　nothing　to　say。　It's　even　conceivable　that　she　found　you　dull；　Amy。〃

Amy　looked　at　him　with　a　strange　penetrating　glance　that　in　some　undefined　way　increased　his　irritation。　〃It's　quite　possible；〃　she　said　quietly。　〃But　I　don't　think　even　you；　Martin；　can　call　her　handsome。　As　to　her　intelligence；　she　never　gave　me　a　chance　of　judging。〃

〃I've　been　there　several　times；〃　said　Martin　hotly。　〃I　like　her　immensely。〃　He　felt　as　soon　as　he　had　spoken　that　it　had　been　a　foolish　thing　to　say。　He　saw　Mr。　Thurston　smile。　In　the　pause　that　followed　he　felt　as　though　he　had　with　a　gesture　of　the　hand　flung　a　stone　into　a　pool　of　chatter　and　scandal　whose　ripples　might　spread　far　beyond　his　control。　At　that　moment　he　hated　his　sister。

〃I　didn't　know　you　knew　her　so　well；　dear；〃　said　his　mother。

〃I　don't　know　her；〃　he　said；　〃I've　only　seen　her　three　times。　But　she　ought　to　be　given　her　chance。　It　can't　be　much　fun　for　her　coming　here　where　she　knows　no　oneafter　her　father　suddenly　dying。　I　believe　she　was　all　alone　with　him。〃

He　had　expected　his　father　to　defend　her。　He　remembered　that　he　had　apparently　liked　her。　But　his　father　said　nothing。　There　was　an　awkward　and　uncomfortable　pause。　After　supper　Mr。　Thurston　rubbed　his　hands；　helped　Amy　Warlock　into　her　cloak；　said　to　the　company　in　general：

〃Good　night。　Should　be　a　very　full　meeting　to…night　。　。　。　Well；　well　。　。　。　Thank　you　for　your　kindness；　Mrs。　Warlock；　I'm　sure。〃

The　door　was　closed；　Mrs。　Warlock　retired　into　her　bedroom；　the　house　was　left　to　Martin　and　his　father。

Mr。　Warlock's　room　was　hideous。　It　opened；　somewhat　ironically；　out　of　Mrs。　Warlock's　pink　drawing…room。　A　huge　and　exceedingly　ugly　American　roll…top　desk　took　up　much　of　the　room。　There　were　bookshelves　into　which　books　had　been　piled。　Commentaries　on　the　Bible；　volumes　of　sermons；　pamphlets；　tattered　copies　of　old　religious　magazines。　A　bare　carpet　displayed　holes　and　rents。　The　fireplace　was　grim　with　dirty　pieces　of　paper　and　untidy　shavings。　In　the　midst　of　this　disorder　there　hung　over　the　mantelpiece；　against　the　faded　grey　wall…paper；　a　fine　copy　of　Raphael's　〃Transfiguration。〃　Mr。　Warlock　lighted　a　candle　and　the　flame　flickered　with　changing　colours　upon　the　picture's　surface。　It　had　been　given　to　John　Warlock　many　years　before　by　an　old　lady　who　heard　him　preach　and　had　been；　for　a　week；　converted；　but　on　his　demand　that　she　should　give　her　wealth　to　the　poor　and　fling　aside　her　passion　for　Musical　Comedy；　left　him　with　indignation。　The　picture　had　remained；　it　hung　there　now　crooked　on　its　cord。

John　Warlock　was　unconscious　of　the　dust　and　disorder　that　surrounded　him。　His　own　passion　for　personal　cleanliness　sprang　from　the　early　days　with　his　father；　to　whom　bodily　cleanliness　had　been　part　of　a　fanatical　mysticism。　Partly　also　by　reason　of　that　early　training；　sloth；　drunkenness；　immorality；　had　no　power　over　him。　And　of　the　whole　actual　world　that　surrounded　him　he　was　very　little　conscious　except　that　he　hated　towns　and　longed　always　for　air　and　space。

So　that　the　windows　were　open　one　room　was　to　him　as　another。

He　had　often；　during　his　work　with　the　members　of　his　community；　been　conscious　of　his　ignorance　of　the　impulses　and　powers　that　went　up　to　make　the　ordinary　sensual　physical　life　of　the　normal　man。　His　own　troubles；　trials；　failures　were　so　utterly　of　another　kind　that　in　this　other　world　his　imagination　refused　to　aid　him。　This　had　often　deeply　distressed　him　and　made　him　timid　and　shy　in　his　dealings　with　men　and　women。　It　was　this；　more　than　anything　else；　that　held　him　back　from　the　ambition　to　proselytise。　How　could　he　go　forth　and　challenge　men's　souls　when　he　could　not　understand　nor　feel　their　difficulties？　More　and　more　as　his　years　advanced　had　he　retired　into　himself；　into　his　own　mystical　world　of　communion　with　a　God　who　drew　ever　nearer　and　nearer　to　him。　He　humbled　himself　before　men；　he　did　not　believe　himself　better　than　they　because　he　had　not　yielded　to　their　temptations；　but　he　could　not　help　them；　his　tongue　was　tied；　he　was　a　man　cut　off　from　his　fellows　and　he　knew　it。

He　had　never　felt　so　impatient　of　his　impotence　as　he　did　to…night。　For　ten　years　he　had　been　waiting　for　this　interview　with　his　son；　and　now　that　it　was　come　he　was　timid　and　afraid　as　though　he　had　been　opposed　by　a　stranger。　He　had　always　known　that　Martin　would　return。　It　had　been　his　one　worldly　ambition　and　prayer　to　have　him　at　his　side　again。　When　he　had　thought　and　dreamt　of　the　time　that　was　coming；　he　had　thought　that　it　would　be　simple　enough　to　win　the　boy　back　to　the　old　allegiance　and　faith　to　which　he　had　once　been　bound。　Meanwhile　the　boy　had　grown　into　a　man；　here　was　a　new　Martin　deep　in　experiences；　desires；　ambitions　of　which　his　father　could　have　no　perception。　Even　in　the　moment　that　he　was　aware　of　the　possibility　of　losing　his　son　he　was　aware　also　of　the　deep　almost　fanatical　resolve　to　keep　him；　to　hold　him　at　all　costs。

This　was　to　be　the　test　of　his　whole　earthly　life。　He　seemed；　as　he　sat　there；　looking　across　at　his　boy；　to　challenge　God　Himself　to　take　him　from　him。　It　was　as　though　he　said：

〃This　reward　at　least　I　have　a　right　to　ask。　I　demand　it　。　。　。〃

Martin；　on　his　side；　was　conscious　of　a　profound　discomfort。　He　had；　increasingly　as　the　years　had　passed；　wished　to　take　life　easily　and　pleasantly。　Suddenly　now　another　world　rose　up　before　him。　Yes；　another　world。　He　was　not　fool　enough　to　dismiss　it　simply　because　it　did　not　resemble　his　own。　Moreover　it　had　been　once　his；　and　this　was　increasingly　borne　in　upon　him。　But　it　all　seemed　to　him　now　incredibly　old；　childish　and　even　fantastic；　as　though　here；　in　the　middle　of　London；　he　had　suddenly　stepped　into　a　little　wood　with　a　witch；　a　cottage　and　a　boiling　cauldron。　Such　things　could　not　frighten；　of　coursehe　was　no　longer　a　childand　yet　because　he　had　once　been　frightened　some　impression　of　alarm　and　dismay　hovered　over　him。

During　all　his　normal　years　abroad　he　had　forgotten　the　power　of　superstition；　of　dreams　and　omens；　he　knew　now；　as　he　faced　his　father；　that　the　power　was　real　enough。

They　talked　for　a　little　while　of　ordinary　things；　the　candle　flame　jumped　and　fell；　the　shavings　rustled　strangely　in　the　fireplace；　the　〃Transfiguration〃　swung　a　little　on　its　cord；　the　colour　still　lingering　at　its　heart　as　the　rest　of　the　room　moved　restlessly　under　the　ebb　and　flow　of　black　shadows。　Then　the　candle　suddenly　blew　out。

〃A　lamp　will　be　better；〃　said　Mr。　Warlock。

He　left　the　room　and　Martin　sat　there；　in　the　darkness；　haunted　by　he　knew　not　what　anticipations。　The　light　was　brought；　they　drew　closer　together；　sitting　in　the　little　glossy　pool；　the　room　pitch　dark　around　them。

〃Well；　Martin；〃　at　last　Mr。　Warlock　said；　〃I　want　to　hear　so　many　things。　Our　first　time　together　alone。〃

〃There　isn't　very　much；〃　Martin　tried　to　speak　naturally　and　carelessly。　〃I　wrote　about　most　things　in　my　letters。　Pretty　rotten　letters　I'm　afraid。〃　He　laughed。

〃And　nowwhat　do　you　intend　to　do　now？〃

〃Oh；　I　don't　knowLook　around　for　a　bit。〃

There　was　another　long　pause。　Then　Mr。　Warlock　began　again。　〃When　I　ask　about　your　life；　my　boy；　I　don't　mean　where　you've　lived；　how　you've　earned　your　livingI　do　know　all　thatyou've　been　very　good　about　writing。　But　your　real　life；　what　you've　been　thinking　about　things；　how　you　feel　about　everything　。　。　。〃

〃Well；　fatherI　don't　know。　One　hadn't　much　time　for　thinking；　you　kn