the lesson of the master-第14节

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in　September　begun　a　new　task；　determined　not　to　cross　the　Alps

till　he　should　have　made　a　good　start。　　To　this　end　he　returned　to

a　quiet　corner　he　knew　well；　on　the　edge　of　the　Lake　of　Geneva　and

within　sight　of　the　towers　of　Chillon：　　a　region　and　a　view　for

which　he　had　an　affection　that　sprang　from　old　associations　and　was

capable　of　mysterious　revivals　and　refreshments。　　Here　he　lingered

late；　till　the　snow　was　on　the　nearer　hills；　almost　down　to　the

limit　to　which　he　could　climb　when　his　stint；　on　the　shortening

afternoons；　was　performed。　　The　autumn　was　fine；　the　lake　was　blue

and　his　book　took　form　and　direction。　　These　felicities；　for　the

time；　embroidered　his　life；　which　he　suffered　to　cover　him　with　its

mantle。　　At　the　end　of　six　weeks　he　felt　he　had　learnt　St。　George's

lesson　by　heart；　had　tested　and　proved　its　doctrine。　　Nevertheless

he　did　a　very　inconsistent　thing：　　before　crossing　the　Alps　he

wrote　to　Marian　Fancourt。　　He　was　aware　of　the　perversity　of　this

act；　and　it　was　only　as　a　luxury；　an　amusement；　the　reward　of　a

strenuous　autumn；　that　he　justified　it。　　She　had　asked　of　him　no

such　favour　when；　shortly　before　he　left　London；　three　days　after

their　dinner　in　Ennismore　Gardens；　he　went　to　take　leave　of　her。

It　was　true　she　had　had　no　ground　…　he　hadn't　named　his　intention

of　absence。　　He　had　kept　his　counsel　for　want　of　due　assurance：　　it

was　that　particular　visit　that　was；　the　next　thing；　to　settle　the

matter。　　He　had　paid　the　visit　to　see　how　much　he　really　cared　for

her；　and　quick　departure；　without　so　much　as　an　explicit　farewell；

was　the　sequel　to　this　enquiry；　the　answer　to　which　had　created

within　him　a　deep　yearning。　　When　he　wrote　her　from　Clarens　he

noted　that　he　owed　her　an　explanation　（more　than　three　months

after！）　for　not　having　told　her　what　he　was　doing。



She　replied　now　briefly　but　promptly；　and　gave　him　a　striking　piece

of　news：　　that　of　the　death；　a　week　before；　of　Mrs。　St。　George。

This　exemplary　woman　had　succumbed；　in　the　country；　to　a　violent

attack　of　inflammation　of　the　lungs　…　he　would　remember　that　for　a

long　time　she　had　been　delicate。　　Miss　Fancourt　added　that　she

believed　her　husband　overwhelmed　by　the　blow；　he　would　miss　her　too

terribly　…　she　had　been　everything　in　life　to　him。　　Paul　Overt；　on

this；　immediately　wrote　to　St。　George。　　He　would　from　the　day　of

their　parting　have　been　glad　to　remain　in　communication　with　him；

but　had　hitherto　lacked　the　right　excuse　for　troubling　so　busy　a

man。　　Their　long　nocturnal　talk　came　back　to　him　in　every　detail；

but　this　was　no　bar　to　an　expression　of　proper　sympathy　with　the

head　of　the　profession；　for　hadn't　that　very　talk　made　it　clear

that　the　late　accomplished　lady　was　the　influence　that　ruled　his

life？　　What　catastrophe　could　be　more　cruel　than　the　extinction　of

such　an　influence？　　This　was　to　be　exactly　the　tone　taken　by　St。

George　in　answering　his　young　friend　upwards　of　a　month　later。　　He

made　no　allusion　of　course　to　their　important　discussion。　　He　spoke

of　his　wife　as　frankly　and　generously　as　if　he　had　quite　forgotten

that　occasion；　and　the　feeling　of　deep　bereavement　was　visible　in

his　words。　　〃She　took　everything　off　my　hands　…　off　my　mind。　　She

carried　on　our　life　with　the　greatest　art；　the　rarest　devotion；　and

I　was　free；　as　few　men　can　have　been；　to　drive　my　pen；　to　shut

myself　up　with　my　trade。　　This　was　a　rare　service　…　the　highest　she

could　have　rendered　me。　　Would　I　could　have　acknowledged　it　more

fitly！〃



A　certain　bewilderment；　for　our　hero；　disengaged　itself　from　these

remarks：　　they　struck　him　as　a　contradiction；　a　retractation；

strange　on　the　part　of　a　man　who　hadn't　the　excuse　of　witlessness。

He　had　certainly　not　expected　his　correspondent　to　rejoice　in　the

death　of　his　wife；　and　it　was　perfectly　in　order　that　the　rupture

of　a　tie　of　more　than　twenty　years　should　have　left　him　sore。　　But

if　she　had　been　so　clear　a　blessing　what　in　the　name　of　consistency

had　the　dear　man　meant　by　turning　him　upside　down　that　night　…　by

dosing　him　to　that　degree；　at　the　most　sensitive　hour　of　his　life；

with　the　doctrine　of　renunciation？　　If　Mrs。　St。　George　was　an

irreparable　loss；　then　her　husband's　inspired　advice　had　been　a　bad

joke　and　renunciation　was　a　mistake。　　Overt　was　on　the　point　of

rushing　back　to　London　to　show　that；　for　his　part；　he　was　perfectly

willing　to　consider　it　so；　and　he　went　so　far　as　to　take　the

manuscript　of　the　first　chapters　of　his　new　book　out　of　his　table…

drawer；　to　insert　it　into　a　pocket　of　his　portmanteau。　　This　led　to

his　catching　a　glimpse　of　certain　pages　he　hadn't　looked　at　for

months；　and　that　accident；　in　turn；　to　his　being　struck　with　the

high　promise　they　revealed　…　a　rare　result　of　such　retrospections；

which　it　was　his　habit　to　avoid　as　much　as　possible：　　they　usually

brought　home　to　him　that　the　glow　of　composition　might　be　a　purely

subjective　and　misleading　emotion。　　On　this　occasion　a　certain

belief　in　himself　disengaged　itself　whimsically　from　the　serried

erasures　of　his　first　draft；　making　him　think　it　best　after　all　to

pursue　his　present　trial　to　the　end。　　If　he　could　write　as　well

under　the　rigour　of　privation　it　might　be　a　mistake　to　change　the

conditions　before　that　spell　had　spent　itself。　　He　would　go　back　to

London　of　course；　but　he　would　go　back　only　when　he　should　have

finished　his　book。　　This　was　the　vow　he　privately　made；　restoring

his　manuscript　to　the　table…drawer。　　It　may　be　added　that　it　took

him　a　long　time　to　finish　his　book；　for　the　subject　was　as

difficult　as　it　was　fine；　and　he　was　literally　embarrassed　by　the

fulness　of　his　notes。　　Something　within　him　warned　him　that　he　must

make　it　supremely　good　…　otherwise　he　should　lack；　as　regards　his

private　behaviour；　a　handsome　excuse。　　He　had　a　horror　of　this

deficiency　and　found　himself　as　firm　as　need　be　on　the　question　of

the　lamp　and　the　file。　　He　crossed　the　Alps　at　last　and　spent　the

winter；　the　spring；　the　ensuing　summer；　in　Italy；　where　still；　at

the　end　of　a　twelvemonth；　his　task　was　unachieved。　　〃Stick　to　it　…

see　it　through〃：　　this　general　injunction　of　St。　George's　was　good

also　for　the　particular　case。　　He　applied　it　to　the　utmost；　with

the　result　that　when　in　its　slow　order　the　summer　had　come　round

again　he　felt　he　had　given　all　that　was　in　him。　　This　time　he　put

his　papers　into　his　portmanteau；　with　the　address　of　his　publisher

attached；　and　took　his　way　northward。



He　had　been　absent　from　London　for　two　years　…　two　years　which；

seeming　to　count　as　more；　had　made　such　a　difference　in　his　own

life　…　through　the　production　of　a　novel　far　stronger；　he　believed；

than　〃Ginistrella〃　…　that　he　turned　out　into　Piccadilly；　the

morning　after　his　arrival；　with　a　vague　expectation　of　changes；　of

finding　great　things　had　happened。　　But　there　were　few

transformations　in　Piccadilly　…　only　three　or　four　big　red　houses

where　there　had　been　low　black　ones　…　and　the　brightness　of　the　end

of　June　peeped　through　the　rusty　railings　of　the　Green　Park　and

glittered　in　the　varnish　of　the　rolling　carriages　as　he　had　seen　it

in　other；　more　cursory　Junes。　　It　was　a　greeting　he　appreciated；　it

seemed　friendly　and　pointed；　added　to　the　exhilaration　of　his

finished　book；　of　his　having　his　own　country　and　the　huge

oppressive　amusing　city　that　suggested　everything；　that　contained

everything；　under　his　hand　again。　　〃Stay　at　home　and　do　things　here

…　do　subjects　we　can　measure；〃　St。　George　had　said；　and　now　it

struck　him　he　should　ask　nothing　better　than　to　stay　at　home　for

ever。　　Late　in　the　afternoon　he　took　his　way　to　Manchester　Square；

looking　out　for　a　number　he　hadn't　forgotten。　　Miss　Fancourt；

however；　was　not　at　home；　so　that　he　turned　rather　dejectedly　from

the　door。　　His　movement　brought　him　face　to　face　with　a　gentleman

just　approaching　it　and　recognised　on　another　glance　as　Miss

Fancourt's　father。　　Paul　saluted　this　personage；　and　the　General

returned　the　greeting　with　his　customary　good　manner　…　a　manner　so

good；　however；　that　you　could　never　tell　whether　it　meant　he　placed

you。　　The　disappointed　caller　felt　the　impulse　to　address　him；

then；　hesitating；　became　both　aware　of　having　no　particular　remark

to　make；　and　convinced　that　though　the　old　soldier　remembered　him

he　remembered　him　wrong。　　He　therefore　went　his　way　without

computing　the　irresistible　effect　his　own　evident　recognition　would

have　on　the　General；　who　never　neglected　a　chance　to　gossip。　　Our

young　man's　face　was　expressive；　and　observation　seldom　let　it

pass。　　He　hadn't　taken　ten　steps　before　he　heard　himself　called

after　with　a　friendly　semi…articulate　〃Er　…　I　beg　your　pardon！〃　　He

turned　round　and　the　General；　smiling　at　him　from　the　porch；　said：

〃Won't　you　come　in？　　I　won't　leave　you　the　advantage　of　me！〃　　Paul

declined　to　come　in；　and　then　felt　regret；　for　Miss　Fancourt；　so

late　in　the　afternoon；　might　return　at　any　moment。　　But　her　father

gave　him　no　se