the captives-第29节

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Until　now　the　things　in　the　house　had　been　there　to　receive　her　as　one　of　themselves；　from　this　moment　they　were　there　to　prevent；　if　possible；　her　release。　She　felt　everything　instantly　hostile。　They　allThomas　the　cat；　Edward　the　parrot；　the　very　sofas　and　chairs　and　cushionswere　determined　not　to　let　her　go。

She　saw；　more　than　ever　before；　that　her　aunts　were　preparing　some　religious　trap　for　her。　They　were　very　quiet　about　it；　they　did　not　urge　her　or　bully　her；　but　the　subtle；　silent　influence　went　on　so　that　the　very　stair…carpet；　the　very　scuttles　that　held　the　coal；　became　secret　messengers　to　hale　her　into　the　chapel　and　shut　her　in　there　for　ever。　After　her　first　visit　there　the　chapel　became　a　nightmare　to　herbecause；　at　once；　she　had　felt　its　power。　She　had　knownshe　had　always　known　and　it　had　not　needed　Mr。　Magnus　to　tell　herthat　there　was　something　in　this　religionyes；　even　in　the　wretched　dirt　and　disorder　of　her　father's　soulbut　with　that　realisation　that　there　was　indeed　something；　had　come　also　the　resolved　conviction　that　life　could　not　be　happy；　simple；　successful　unless　one　broke　from　that　power　utterly；　refused　its　dictates；　gave　no　hearing　to　its　messages；　surrendered　nothingabsolutely　nothing…　…to　its　influence。　Had　not　some　one　said　to　her　once；　or　was　it　not　in　her　little　red　A　Kempis；　that　〃once　caught　one　might　never　escape　again〃？

She　would　prove　that；　in　her　own　struggle　and　independence；　to　be　untrue。　The　chapel　should　not　have　her；　nor　her　father's　ghost；　nor　the　dim　half…visualised　thoughts　and　memories　that　rose　like　dark　shadows　in　her　soul　and　vanished　again。　She　would　believe　in　nothing　save　what　she　could　see；　listen　to　nothing　that　was　not　clear　and　simple　before　her。　She　was　mistress　of　her　own　soul。

She　did　not；　in　this　fashion；　think　things　out　for　herself。　To　herself　she　simply　expressed　it　that　she　was　going　to　lead　her　own　life；　to　earn　her　own　living；　to　fight　for　herself；　and　that　the　sooner　she　escaped　this　gloomy；　damp；　and　ill…tempered　house　the　better。　She　would　never　say　her　prayers　again；　she　would　never　read　the　Bible　again　to　herself　or　any　one　else；　she　would　never　kneel　on　those　hard　chapel　kneelers　again；　she　would　never　listen　to　Mr。　Warlock's　sermons　againonce　she　had　escaped。

Meanwhile　she　said　nothing　at　all　to　herself　about　Martin　Warlock；　who　was　really　at　the　root　of　the　whole　matter。

She　began　at　once　to　take　steps。　Two　years　before　this　a　lady　had　paid；　with　her　sister；　a　short　visit　to　St。　Dreots　and　had　taken　a　great　liking　to　Maggie。　They　had　made　friends；　and　this　lady；　a　Miss　Katherine　Trenchard；　had　begged　Maggie　to　let　her　know　if　she　came　to　London　and　needed　help　or　advice。　Miss　Trenchard　divided　her　life　between　London　and　a　place　called　Garth　in　Roselands　in　Glebeshire；　and　Maggie　did　not　know　where　she　would　be　nowbut；　after　some　little　hesitation；　she　wrote　a　letter；　speaking　of　the　death　of　her　father　and　of　her　desire　to　find　some　work　in　London；　and　directed　it　to　Garth。

Now　of　course　she　must　post　it　herselfno　allowing　it　to　lie　on　the　hall…table　with　old　Martha　to　finger　it　and　the　aunts　to　speculate　upon　it　and　finally　challenge　her　with　its　destiny。

On　a　bright　evening　when　the　house　was　as　dark　as　a　shut　box　and　an　early　star；　frightened　at　its　irregular　and　lonely　appearance；　suddenly　flashed　like　a　curl　of　a　golden　whip　across　the　sky；　Maggie　slipped　out　of　the　house。　She　realised；　with　a　triumphant　and　determined　nod　of　her　head；　that　she　had　never　been　out　alone　in　London　beforea　ridiculous　and　shameful　fact！　She　knew　that　there　was　a　pillar…box　just　round　the　corner；　but　because　she　had　a　hat　upon　her　head　and　shoes　upon　her　feet　she　thought　that　she　might　as　well　post　it　in　the　Strand；　an　EXCITING　river　of　tempestuous　sound　into　which　she　had　as　yet　scarcely　penetrated。　She　slipped　out　of　the　front　door；　then　waited　a　moment；　looking　back　at　the　silent　house。　No　one　stirred　in　their　street；　the　noise　of　the　Strand　came　up　to　her　like　wind　beyond　a　valley。　She　must　have　felt；　in　that　instant；　that　she　was　making　some　plunge　into　hazardous　waters　and　she　must　have　hesitated　as　to　whether　she　would　not　spring　back　into　the　quiet　house；　lock　and　bolt　the　door；　and　never　go　out　again。　But；　after　that　one　glance；　she　went　forward。

She　had　never　before　in　her　life　been　on　any　errand　alone；　and　at　this　evening　hour　the　Strand　was　very　full。　She　stood　still　clinging　to　the　safe　privacy　of　her　own　street　and　peering　over　into　the　blaze　and　quiver　of　the　tumult。　In　the　Strand　end　of　her　own　street　there　were　several　dramatic　agencies；　a　second…hand　book　and　print　shop　with　piles　of　dirty　music　in　the　barrow　outside　the　window；　a　little　restaurant　with　cold　beef；　an　ancient　chicken；　hard…boiled　eggs　and　sponge　cakes　under　glass　domes　in　the　window；　everywhere　about　her　were　dim　doors；　glimpses　of　twisting　stairs；　dusty　windows　and　figures　flitting　up　and　down；　in　and　out　as　though　they　were　marionettes　pulled　by　invisible　strings　to　fulfil　some　figure。

These　were　all　in　the　dusk　of　the　side…street；　a　large　draper's　with　shirts　and　collars　and　grinning　wax　boys　in　sailor　suits　caught　with　its　front　windows　the　Strand　lamps。　It　was　beside　the　shop　that　Maggie　stood　for　an　instant　hesitating。　She　could　see　no　pillar…box；　she　could　see　nothing　save　the　streams　of　human　beings；　slipping　like　water　between　the　banks　of　houses。

She　hesitated；　clinging　to　the　draper's　shop；　then；　suddenly　catching　sight　of　the　pillar…box　a　few　yards　down　the　street；　she　let　herself　go；　had　a　momentary　sensation　of　swimming　in　a　sea　desperately　crowded　with　other　bodies；　fought　against　the　fierce　gaze　of　lights　that　beat　straight　upon　her　eyes；　found　the　box；　slipped　in　the　letter；　and　then；　almost　at　once；　was　back　in　her　quiet　quarters　again。

She　turned　and；　her　heart　beating；　hurried　home。　The　house　door　was　still　ajar。　She　pushed　it　back；　slipped　inside；　caught　her　breath　and　listened。　Then　she　closed　the　door　softly　behind　her；　and　with　that　little　act　of　attempted　secrecy　realised　that　she　was　now　a　rebel；　that　things　could　never　be；　for　her；　the　same　again　as　they　had　been　a　quarter　of　an　hour　ago。　That　glittering　crowd；　the　lamps；　the　smells；　the　sounds；　had　concentrated　themselves　into　a　little　fiery　charm　that　held　her　heart　within　a　flaming　circle。　She　felt　the　most　audacious　creature　in　the　worldand　also　the　most　ignorant。　Not　helplessno；　never　helplessbut　so　ignorant　that　all　her　life　that　had　seemed　to　her；　a　quarter　of　an　hour　ago；　so　tensely　crowded　with　events　and　crises　was　now　empty　and　barren　like　the　old　straw…smelling　cab　at　home。　She　did　not　want　to　offend　her　aunts　and　hurt　their　feelings；　but　she　was　a　living；　breathing；　independent　creature　and　she　must　go　her　own　way。　Neither　they　nor　their　chapel　should　stop　herno；　not　the　chapel　nor　any　one　in　it。

She　was　standing；　motionless；　in　the　dark　cold　hall；　wondering　whether　any　one　had　heard　her　enter；　when　she　was　suddenly　conscious　of　two　eyes　that　watched　hertwo　steady　fiery　eyes　suspended　as　it　seemed　in　mid　air。　She　realised　that　it　was　the　cat。　The　cat　hated　her　and　she　hated　it。　She　had　not　realised　that　before；　but　now　with　the　illumination　of　the　lighted　street　behind　her　she　realised　it。　The　cat　was　the　spirit　of　the　chapel　watching　her；　spying　upon　her　tc　see　that　she　did　not　escape。　The　cat　knew　that　she　had　posted　her　letter　and　to　whom　she　had　posted　it。　She　advanced　to　the　bottom　of　the　stair　and　said：　〃Brr。　You　horrid　thing！　I　hate　you！〃　and　instantly　the　two　fiery　eyes　had　vanished；　but　now　in　their　place　the　whole　house　seemed　to　be　watching；　so　silent　and　attentive　was　itand　the　odour　of　damp　biscuits　and　wet　umbrellas　seemed　to　be　everywhere。

Just　then　old　Martha　came　out　with　a　lamp　in　her　hand；　and　standing　upon　a　chair；　lit　the　great　ugly　gas　over　the　middle　of　the　door。

〃Why；　Miss　Maggie；〃　she　said　in　her　soft；　surprised　whisper；　looking　as　she　always　did；　beyond　the　girl；　into　darkness。

〃I've　been　out；〃　said　Maggie；　defiantly。

〃Not　all　alone；　miss？〃

〃All　alone；〃　said　Maggie。　〃Why　not？　I　can　look　after　myself。〃

〃Well；　there's　your　uncle　waiting　in　the　drawing…roomjust　come；〃　said　the　old　woman；　climbing　down　from　the　chair　with　that　silent　imperturbable　discontent　that　always　frightened　Maggie。

〃Uncle　Mathew！　Here！　in　this　house！〃　Maggie；　even　in　the　moment　of　her　first　astonishment；　was　amazed　at　her　own　delight。　That　she　should　ever　feel　THAT　about　Uncle　Mathew！　Truly　it　showed　how　unhappy　she　had　been；　and　she　ran　upstairs；　two　steps　at　a　time；　and　pushed　back　the　drawing…room　door。

〃Uncle　Mathew！〃　she　cried。

Then　at　the　sight　of　him　she　stood　where　she　was。　The　man　who　faced　her；　with　all　his　old　confusion　of　nervousness　and　uneasy　geniality；　was；　indeed；　Uncle　Mathew；　but　Uncle　Mathew　glorified；　shabbily　glorified　and　at　the　same　time　a　little　abashed　as　though　she　had　caught　him　in　the　act　of　laying　a　mine　that　would　blow　up　the　whole　house。　He　was　wearing　finer　clothes　than　she　had　ever　seen　him　in　beforea　frock　coat；　quite　new　but　fitting　him　badly；　so　that　it　was　buttoned　too　tightly　across　his　stomach　and　loose　across　the　back。　He　had　a　white　flower　in　his　button…hole；　and　a　rather　soiled　white　handkerchief　protrude