five tales-第57节

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ough　she　hadn't。　'Good…bye；　dear　Uncle　Jolyon。'　　Why　'Good…bye'　and　not　'Good…night'？　And　that　hand　of　hers　lingering　in　the　air。　　And　her　kiss。　　What　did　it　mean？　　Vehement　alarm　and　irritation　took　possession　of　him。　　He　got　up　and　began　to　pace　the　Turkey　carpet；　between　window　and　wall。　She　was　going　to　give　him　up！　　He　felt　it　for　certainand　he　defenceless。　　An　old　man　wanting　to　look　on　beauty！　　It　was　ridiculous！　　Age　closed　his　mouth；　paralysed　his　power　to　fight。　　He　had　no　right　to　what　was　warm　and　living；　no　right　to　anything　but　memories　and　sorrow。　　He　could　not　plead　with　her；　even　an　old　man　has　his　dignity。　　Defenceless！　　For　an　hour；　lost　to　bodily　fatigue；　he　paced　up　and　down；　past　the　bowl　of　carnations　he　had　plucked；　which　mocked　him　with　its　scent。　　Of　all　things　hard　to　bear；　the　prostration　of　will…power　is　hardest；　for　one　who　has　always　had　his　way。　　Nature　had　got　him　in　its　net；　and　like　an　unhappy　fish　he　turned　and　swam　at　the　meshes；　here　and　there；　found　no　hole；　no　breaking　point。　　They　brought　him　tea　at　five　o'clock；　and　a　letter。　For　a　moment　hope　beat　up　in　him。　　He　cut　the　envelope　with　the　butter　knife；　and　read：


〃DEAREST　UNCLE　JOLYON；I　can't　bear　to　write　anything　that　may　disappoint　you；　but　I　was　too　cowardly　to　tell　you　last　night。　　I　feel　I　can't　come　down　and　give　Holly　any　more　lessons；　now　that　June　is　coming　back。　　Some　things　go　too　deep　to　be　forgotten。　　It　has　been　such　a　joy　to　see　you　and　Holly。　　Perhaps　I　shall　still　see　you　sometimes　when　you　come　up；　though　I'm　sure　it's　not　good　for　you；　I　can　see　you　are　tiring　yourself　too　much。　　I　believe　you　ought　to　rest　quite　quietly　all　this　hot　weather；　and　now　you　have　your　son　and　June　coming　back　you　will　be　so　happy。　　Thank　you　a　million　times　for　all　your　sweetness　to　me。

〃Lovingly　your　IRENE。〃


So；　there　it　was！　Not　good　for　him　to　have　pleasure　and　what　he　chiefly　cared　about；　to　try　and　put　off　feeling　the　inevitable　end　of　all　things；　the　approach　of　death　with　its　stealthy；　rustling　footsteps。　　Not　good　for　him！　　Not　even　she　could　see　how　she　was　his　new　lease　of　interest　in　life；　the　incarnation　of　all　the　beauty　he　felt　slipping　from　him。

His　tea　grew　cold；　his　cigar　remained　unlit；　and　up　and　down　he　paced；　torn　between　his　dignity　and　his　hold　on　life。　　Intolerable　to　be　squeezed　out　slowly；　without　a　say　of　your　own；　to　live　on　when　your　will　was　in　the　hands　of　others　bent　on　weighing　you　to　the　ground　with　care　and　love。　　Intolerable！　　He　would　see　what　telling　her　the　truth　would　dothe　truth　that　he　wanted　the　sight　of　her　more　than　just　a　lingering　on。　　He　sat　down　at　his　old　bureau　and　took　a　pen。　　But　he　could　not　write。　　There　was　some…thing　revolting　in　having　to　plead　like　this；　plead　that　she　should　warm　his　eyes　with　her　beauty。　　It　was　tantamount　to　confessing　dotage。　　He　simply　could　not。　　And　instead；　he　wrote：


〃I　had　hoped　that　the　memory　of　old　sores　would　not　be　allowed　to　stand　in　the　way　of　what　is　a　pleasure　and　a　profit　to　me　and　my　little　grand…daughter。　　But　old　men　learn　to　forego　their　whims；　they　are　obliged　to；　even　the　whim　to　live　must　be　foregone　sooner　or　later；　and　perhaps　the　sooner　the　better。　〃My　love　to　you；　〃JOLYON　FORSYTE。〃


'Bitter；'　he　thought；　'but　I　can't　help　it。　　I'm　tired。'　　He　sealed　and　dropped　it　into　the　box　for　the　evening　post；　and　hearing　it　fall　to　the　bottom；　thought：　'There　goes　all　I've　looked　forward　to！'

That　evening　after　dinner　which　he　scarcely　touched；　after　his　cigar　which　he　left　half…smoked　for　it　made　him　feel　faint；　he　went　very　slowly　upstairs　and　stole　into　the　night…nursery。　　He　sat　down　on　the　window…seat。　　A　night…light　was　burning；　and　he　could　just　see　Holly's　face；　with　one　hand　underneath　the　cheek。　　An　early　cockchafer　buzzed　in　the　Japanese　paper　with　which　they　had　filled　the　grate；　and　one　of　the　horses　in　the　stable　stamped　restlessly。　To　sleep　like　that　child！　　He　pressed　apart　two　rungs　of　the　venetian　blind　and　looked　out。　　The　moon　was　rising；　blood…red。　　He　had　never　seen　so　red　a　moon。　　The　woods　and　fields　out　there　were　dropping　to　sleep　too；　in　the　last　glimmer　of　the　summer　light。　　And　beauty；　like　a　spirit；　walked。　　'I've　had　a　long　life；'　he　thought；　'the　best　of　nearly　everything。　　I'm　an　ungrateful　chap；　I've　seen　a　lot　of　beauty　in　my　time。　　Poor　young　Bosinney　said　I　had　a　sense　of　beauty。　There's　a　man　in　the　moon　to…night！'　　A　moth　went　by；　another；　another。　　'Ladies　in　grey！'　　He　closed　his　eyes。　　A　feeling　that　he　would　never　open　them　again　beset　him；　he　let　it　grow；　let　himself　sink；　then；　with　a　shiver；　dragged　the　lids　up。　　There　was　something　wrong　with　him；　no　doubt；　deeply　wrong；　he　would　have　to　have　the　doctor　after　all。　　It　didn't　much　matter　now！　　Into　that　coppice　the　moon…light　would　have　crept；　there　would　be　shadows；　and　those　shadows　would　be　the　only　things　awake。　　No　birds；　beasts；　flowers；　insects；　Just　the　shadowsmoving；　'Ladies　in　grey！'　　Over　that　log　they　would　climb；　would　whisper　together。　　She　and　Bosinney！　　Funny　thought！　　And　the　frogs　and　little　things　would　whisper　too！　　How　the　clock　ticked；　in　here！　　It　was　all　eerie…out　there　in　the　light　of　that　red　moon；　in　here　with　the　little　steady　night…light　and；　the　ticking　clock　and　the　nurse's　dressing…gown　hanging　from　the　edge　of　the　screen；　tall；　like　a　woman's　figure。　　'Lady　in　grey！'　　And　a　very　odd　thought　beset　him：　Did　she　exist？　　Had　she　ever　come　at　all？　　Or　was　she　but　the　emanation　of　all　the　beauty　he　had　loved　and　must　leave　so　soon？　　The　violet…grey　spirit　with　the　dark　eyes　and　the　crown　of　amber　hair；　who　walks　the　dawn　and　the　moonlight；　and　at　blue…bell　time？　　What　was　she；　who　was　she；　did　she　exist？　　He　rose　and　stood　a　moment　clutching　the　window…sill；　to　give　him　a　sense　of　reality　again；　then　began　tiptoeing　towards　the　door。　　He　stopped　at　the　foot　of　the　bed；　and　Holly；　as　if　conscious　of　his　eyes　fixed　on　her；　stirred；　sighed；　and　curled　up　closer　in　defence。　　He　tiptoed　on　and　passed　out　into　the　dark　passage；　reached　his　room；　undressed　at　once；　and　stood　before　a　mirror　in　his　night…shirt。　　What　a　scarecrowwith　temples　fallen　in；　and　thin　legs！　His　eyes　resisted　his　own　image；　and　a　look　of　pride　came　on　his　face。　　All　was　in　league　to　pull　him　down；　even　his　reflection　in　the　glass；　but　he　was　not　downyet！　　He　got　into　bed；　and　lay　a　long　time　without　sleeping；　trying　to　reach　resignation；　only　too　well　aware　that　fretting　and　disappointment　were　very　bad　for　him。　　He　woke　in　the　morning　so　unrefreshed　and　strengthIess　that　he　sent　for　the　doctor。　After　sounding　him；　the　fellow　pulled　a　face　as　long　as　your　arm；　and　ordered　him　to　stay　in　bed　and　give　up　smoking。　　That　was　no　hardship；　there　was　nothing　to　get　up　for；　and　when　he　felt　ill；　tobacco　always　lost　its　savour。　　He　spent　the　morning　languidly　with　the　sun…blinds　down；　turning　and　re…turning　The　Times；　not　reading　much；　the　dog　Balthasar　lying　beside　his　bed。　　With　his　lunch　they　brought　him　a　telegram；　running　thus：


'Your　letter　received　coming　down　this　afternoon　will　be　with　you　at　four…thirty。　　Irene。'


Coming　down！　　After　all！　　Then　she　did　existand　he　was　not　deserted。　　Coming　down！　　A　glow　ran　through　his　limbs；　his　cheeks　and　forehead　felt　hot。　　He　drank　his　soup；　and　pushed　the　tray…table　away；　lying　very　quiet　until　they　had　removed　lunch　and　left　him　alone；　but　every　now　and　then　his　eyes　twinkled。　　Coming　down！　　His　heart　beat　fast；　and　then　did　not　seem　to　beat　at　all。　　At　three　o'clock　he　got　up　and　dressed　deliberately；　noiselessly。　　Holly　and　Mam'zelle　would　be　in　the　schoolroom；　and　the　servants　asleep　after　their　dinner；　he　shouldn't　wonder。　　He　opened　his　door　cautiously；　and　went　downstairs。　　In　the　hall　the　dog　Balthasar　lay　solitary；　and；　followed　by　him；　old　Jolyon　passed　into　his　study　and　out　into　the　burning　afternoon。　　He　meant　to　go　down　and　meet　her　in　the　coppice；　but　felt　at　once　he　could　not　manage　that　in　this　heat。　　He　sat　down　instead　under　the　oak　tree　by　the　swing；　and　the　dog　Balthasar；　who　also　felt　the　heat；　lay　down　beside　him。　　He　sat　there　smiling。　　What　a　revel　of　bright　minutes！　　What　a　hum　of　insects；　and　cooing　of　pigeons！　　It　was　the　quintessence　of　a　summer　day。　　Lovely！　And　he　was　happyhappy　as　a　sand…boy；　what…ever　that　might　be。　　She　was　coming；　she　had　not　given　him　up！　　He　had　everything　in　life　he　wantedexcept　a　little　more　breath；　and　less　weightjust　here！　　He　would　see　her　when　she　emerged　from　the　fernery；　come　swaying　just　a　little；　a　violet…grey　figure　passing　over　the　daisies　and　dandelions　and　'soldiers'　on　the　lawnthe　soldiers　with　their　flowery　crowns。　He　would　not　move；　but　she　would　come　up　to　him　and　say：　'Dear　Uncle　Jolyon；　I　am　sorry！'　and　sit　in　the　swing　and　let　him　look　at　her　and　tell　her　that　he　had　not　been　very　well　but　was　all　right　now；　and　that　dog　would　lick　her　hand。　　That　dog　knew　his　master　was　fond　of　her；　that　dog　was　a　good　dog。

It　was　quite　shady　under　the　tree；　the　sun　could　not　get　at　him；　only　make　the　rest　of　the　world　bright　so　that　he　could　see　the　Grand　Stand　at　Epsom　away　out　there；　very　far；　and　the　cows　crop…ping　the　clover　in　the　field　and　swishing　at　the　flies　with　their　tails。　　He　smelled　the　scent　of　limes；　and　lavender。