the little white bird-第38节
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that I had last seen him when I was dining with him at his club
(for he is become member of a club of painter fellows; and Mary
is so proud of this that she has had it printed on his card);
when undoubtedly he had looked preoccupied。 It had been the
look; I saw now; of one who shared a guilty secret。
As all was thus suddenly revealed to me I laughed unpleasantly at
myself; for; on my soul; I had been thinking well of Mary of
late。 Always foolishly inflated about David; she had been
grudging him even to me during these last weeks; and I had
forgiven her; putting it down to a mother's love。 I knew from
the poor boy of unwonted treats she had been giving him; I had
seen her embrace him furtively in a public place; her every act;
in so far as they were known to me; had been a challenge to
whoever dare assert that she wanted anyone but David。 How could
I; not being a woman; have guessed that she was really saying
good…bye to him?
Reader; picture to yourself that simple little boy playing about
the house at this time; on the understanding that everything was
going on as usual。 Have not his toys acquired a new pathos;
especially the engine she bought him yesterday?
Did you look him in the face; Mary; as you gave him that engine?
I envy you not your feelings; ma'am; when with loving arms he
wrapped you round for it。 That childish confidence of his to me;
in which unwittingly he betrayed you; indicates that at last you
have been preparing him for the great change; and I suppose you
are capable of replying to me that David is still happy; and even
interested。 But does he know from you what it really means to
him? Rather; I do believe; you are one who would not scruple to
give him to understand that B (which you may yet find stands for
Benjamin) is primarily a gift for him。 In your heart; ma'am;
what do you think of this tricking of a little boy?
Suppose David had known what was to happen before he came to you;
are you sure he would have come? Undoubtedly there is an
unwritten compact in such matters between a mother and her first…
born; and I desire to point out to you that he never breaks it。
Again; what will the other boys say when they know? You are
outside the criticism of the Gardens; but David is not。 Faith;
madam; I believe you would have been kinder to wait and let him
run the gauntlet at Pilkington's。
You think your husband is a great man now because they are
beginning to talk of his foregrounds and middle distances in the
newspaper columns that nobody reads。 I know you have bought him
a velvet coat; and that he has taken a large; airy and commodious
studio in Mews Lane; where you are to be found in a soft material
on first and third Wednesdays。 Times are changing; but shall I
tell you a story here; just to let you see that I am acquainted
with it?
Three years ago a certain gallery accepted from a certain artist
a picture which he and his wife knew to be monstrous fine。 But
no one spoke of the picture; no one wrote of it; and no one made
an offer for it。 Crushed was the artist; sorry for the denseness
of connoisseurs was his wife; till the work was bought by a
dealer for an anonymous client; and then elated were they both;
and relieved also to discover that I was not the buyer。 He came
to me at once to make sure of this; and remained to walk the
floor gloriously as he told me what recognition means to
gentlemen of the artistic callings。 O; the happy boy!
But months afterward; rummaging at his home in a closet that is
usually kept locked; he discovered the picture; there hidden
away。 His wife backed into a corner and made trembling
confession。 How could she submit to see her dear's masterpiece
ignored by the idiot public; and her dear himself plunged into
gloom thereby? She knew as well as he (for had they not been
married for years?) how the artistic instinct hungers for
recognition; and so with her savings she bought the great work
anonymously and stored it away in a closet。 At first; I believe;
the man raved furiously; but by…and…by he was on his knees at the
feet of this little darling。 You know who she was; Mary; but;
bless me; I seem to be praising you; and that was not the
enterprise on which I set out。 What I intended to convey was
that though you can now venture on small extravagances; you seem
to be going too fast。 Look at it how one may; this Barbara idea
is undoubtedly a bad business。
How to be even with her? I cast about for a means; and on my
lucky day I did conceive my final triumph over Mary; at which I
have scarcely as yet dared to hint; lest by discovering it I
should spoil my plot。 For there has been a plot all the time。
For long I had known that Mary contemplated the writing of a
book; my informant being David; who; because I have published a
little volume on Military tactics; and am preparing a larger one
on the same subject (which I shall never finish); likes to watch
my methods of composition; how I dip; and so on; his desire being
to help her。 He may have done this on his own initiative; but it
is also quite possible that in her desperation she urged him to
it; he certainly implied that she had taken to book…writing
because it must be easy if I could do it。 She also informed him
(very inconsiderately); that I did not print my books myself; and
this lowered me in the eyes of David; for it was for the printing
he had admired me and boasted of me in the Gardens。
〃I suppose you didn't make the boxes neither; nor yet the
labels;〃 he said to me in the voice of one shorn of belief in
everything。
I should say here that my literary labours are abstruse; the
token whereof is many rows of boxes nailed against my walls; each
labelled with a letter of the alphabet。 When I take a note in A;
I drop its into the A box; and so on; much to the satisfaction of
David; who likes to drop them in for me。 I had now to admit that
Wheeler & Gibb made the boxes。
〃But I made the labels myself; David。〃
〃They are not so well made as the boxes;〃 he replied。
Thus I have reason to wish ill to Mary's work of imagination; as
I presumed it to be; and I said to him with easy brutality; 〃Tell
her about the boxes; David; and that no one can begin a book
until they are all full。 That will frighten her。〃
Soon thereafter he announced to me that she had got a box。
〃One box!〃 I said with a sneer。
〃She made it herself;〃 retorted David hotly。
I got little real information from him about the work; partly
because David loses his footing when he descends to the
practical; and perhaps still more because he found me
unsympathetic。 But when he blurted out the title; 〃The Little
White Bird;〃 I was like one who had read the book to its last
page。 I knew at once that the white bird was the little daughter
Mary would fain have had。 Somehow I had always known that she
would like to have a little daughter; she was that kind of woman;
and so long as she had the modesty to see that she could not have
one; I sympathised with her deeply; whatever I may have said
about her book to David。
In those days Mary had the loveliest ideas for her sad little
book; and they came to her mostly in the morning when she was
only three…parts awake; but as she stepped out of bed they all
flew away like startled birds。 I gathered from David that this
depressed her exceedingly。
Oh; Mary; your thoughts are much too pretty and holy to show
themselves to anyone but yourself。 The shy things are hiding
within you。 If they could come into the open they would not be a
book; they would be little Barbara。
But that was not the message I sent her。 〃She will never be able
to write it;〃 I explained to David。 〃She has not the ability。
Tell her I said that。〃
I remembered now that for many months I had heard nothing of her
ambitious project; so I questioned David and discovered that it
was abandoned。 He could not say why; nor was it necessary that
he should; the trivial little reason was at once so plain to me。
From that moment all my sympathy with Mary was spilled; and I
searched for some means of exulting over her until I found it。
It was this。 I decided; unknown even to David; to write the book
〃The Little White Bird;〃 of which she had proved herself
incapable; and then when; in the fulness of time; she held her
baby on high; implying that she had done a big thing; I was to
hold up the book。 I venture to think that such a devilish
revenge was never before planned and carried out。
Yes; carried out; for this is the book; rapidly approaching
completion。 She and I are running a neck…and…neck race。
I have also once more brought the story of David's adventures to
an abrupt end。 〃And it really is the end this time; David;〃 I
said severely。 (I always say that。)
It ended on the coast of Patagonia; whither we had gone to shoot
the great Sl