the research magnificent-第11节

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n　her　predecessor　for　the　onerous　duties　of　a　schoolmaster's　wife；　but　whatever　natural　buoyancy　she　possessed　was　outweighed　by　an　irrepressible　conviction　derived　from　an　episcopal　grandparent　that　the　remarriage　of　divorced　persons　is　sinful；　and　by　a　secret　but　well…founded　doubt　whether　her　husband　loved　her　with　a　truly　romantic　passion。　　She　might　perhaps　have　borne　either　of　these　troubles　singly；　but　the　two　crushed　her　spirit。　Her　temperament　was　not　one　that　goes　out　to　meet　happiness。　　She　had　reluctant　affections　and　suspected　rather　than　welcomed　the　facility　of　other　people's。　　Her　susceptibility　to　disagreeable　impressions　was　however　very　ample；　and　life　was　fenced　about　with　protections　for　her　〃feelings。〃　　It　filled　young　Benham　with　inexpressible　indignations　that　his　sweet　own　mother；　so　gay；　so　brightly　cheerful　that　even　her　tears　were　stars；　was　never　to　be　mentioned　in　his　stepmother's　presence；　and　it　was　not　until　he　had　fully　come　to　years　of　reflection　that　he　began　to　realize　with　what　honesty；　kindness　and　patience　this　naturally　not　very　happy　lady　had　nursed；　protected；　mended　for　and　generally　mothered　him。

4

As　Benham　grew　to　look　manly　and　bear　himself　with　pride；　his　mother's　affection　for　him　blossomed　into　a　passion。　　She　made　him　come　down　to　London　from　Cambridge　as　often　as　she　could；　she　went　about　with　him；　she　made　him　squire　her　to　theatres　and　take　her　out　to　dinners　and　sup　with　her　at　the　Carlton；　and　in　the　summer　she　had　him　with　her　at　Chexington　Manor；　the　Hertfordshire　house　Sir　Godfrey　had　given　her。　　And　always　when　they　parted　she　looked　into　his　eyes　to　see　if　they　were　still　cleanwhatever　she　meant　by　thatand　she　kissed　his　forehead　and　cheeks　and　eyes　and　lips。　　She　began　to　make　schemes　for　his　career；　she　contrived　introductions　she　judged　would　be　useful　to　him　later。　Everybody　found　the　relationship　charming。　　Some　of　the　more　conscientious　people；　it　is　true；　pretended　to　think　that　the　Reverend　Harold　Benham　was　a　first　husband　and　long　since　dead；　but　that　was　all。　　As　a　matter　of　fact；　in　his　increasingly　futile　way　he　wasn't；　either　at　Seagate　or　in　the　Educational　Supplement　of　the　TIMES。　　But　even　the　most　conscientious　of　us　are　not　obliged　to　go　to　Seagate　or　read　the　Educational　Supplement　of　the　TIMES。　Lady　Marayne's　plans　for　her　son's　future　varied　very　pleasantly。　She　was　an　industrious　reader　of　biographies；　and　more　particularly　of　the　large　fair　biographies　of　the　recently　contemporary；　they　mentioned　people　she　knew；　they　recalled　scenes；　each　sowed　its　imaginative　crop　upon　her　mind；　a　crop　that　flourished　and　flowered　until　a　newer　growth　came　to　oust　it。　　She　saw　her　son　a　diplomat；　a　prancing　pro…consul；　an　empire　builder；　a　trusted　friend　of　the　august；　the　bold　leader　of　new　movements；　the　saviour　of　ancient　institutions；　the　youngest；　brightest；　modernest　of　prime　ministers　or　a　tremendously　popular　poet。　　As　a　rule　she　saw　him　unmarried　with　a　wonderful　little　mother　at　his　elbow。　　Sometimes　in　romantic　flashes　he　was　adored　by　German　princesses　or　eloped　with　Russian　grand…duchesses！　　But　such　fancies　were　HORS　D'OEUVRE。　　The　modern　biography　deals　with　the　career。　　Every　project　was　bright；　every　project　had　GOtremendous　go。　　And　they　all　demanded　a　hero；　debonnaire　and　balanced。　　And　Benham；　as　she　began　to　perceive；　wasn't　balanced。　　Something　of　his　father　had　crept　into　him；　a　touch　of　moral　stiffness。　　She　knew　the　flavour　of　that　so　well。　　It　was　a　stumbling；　an　elaboration；　a　spoil…sport　and　weakness。　　She　tried　not　to　admit　to　herself　that　even　in　the　faintest　degree　it　was　there。　　But　it　was　there。　〃Tell　me　all　that　you　are　doing　NOW；〃　she　said　to　him　one　afternoon　when　she　had　got　him　to　herself　during　his　first　visit　to　Chexington　Manor。　　〃How　do　you　like　Cambridge？　　Are　you　making　friends？　　Have　you　joined　that　thingthe　Union；　is　it？and　delivered　your　maiden　speech？　　If　you're　for　politics；　Poff；　that's　your　game。　　Have　you　begun　it？〃　She　lay　among　splashes　of　sunshine　on　the　red　cushions　in　the　punt；　a　little　curled…up　figure　of　white；　with　her　sweet　pale　animated　face　warmed　by　the　reflection　of　her　red　sunshade；　and　her　eyes　like　little　friendly　heavens。　　And　he；　lean；　and　unconsciously　graceful；　sat　at　her　feet　and　admired　her　beyond　measure；　and　rejoiced　that　now　at　last　they　were　going　to　be　ever　so　much　together；　and　doubted　if　it　would　be　possible　ever　to　love　any　other　woman　so　much　as　he　did　her。　He　tried　to　tell　her　of　Cambridge　and　his　friends　and　the　undergraduate　life　he　was　leading；　but　he　found　it　difficult。　　All　sorts　of　things　that　seemed　right　and　good　at　Trinity　seemed　out　of　drawing　in　the　peculiar　atmosphere　she　created　about　her。　　All　sorts　of　clumsiness　and　youthfulness　in　himself　and　his　associates　he　felt　she　wouldn't　accept；　couldn't　accept；　that　it　would　be　wrong　of　her　to　accept。　　Before　they　could　come　before　her　they　must　wear　a　bravery。　　He　couldn't；　for　instance；　tell　her　how　Billy　Prothero；　renouncing　vanity　and　all　social　pretension；　had　worn　a　straw　hat　into　November　and　the　last　stages　of　decay；　and　how　it　had　been　burnt　by　a　special　commission　ceremonially　in　the　great　court。　　He　couldn't　convey　to　her　the　long　sessions　of　beer　and　tobacco　and　high　thinking　that　went　on　in　Prothero's　rooms　into　the　small　hours。　A　certain　Gothic　greyness　and　flatness　and　muddiness　through　which　the　Cambridge　spirit　struggles　to　its　destiny；　he　concealed　from　her。　　What　remained　to　tell　wasattenuated。　　He　could　not　romance。　So　she　tried　to　fill　in　his　jejune　outlines。　　She　tried　to　inspire　a　son　who　seemed　most　unaccountably　up　to　nothing。　〃You　must　make　good　friends；〃　she　said。　　〃Isn't　young　Lord　Breeze　at　your　college？　　His　mother　the　other　day　told　me　he　was。　　And　Sir　Freddy　Quenton's　boy。　　And　there　are　both　the　young　Baptons　at　Cambridge。〃　He　knew　one　of　the　Baptons。　〃Poff；〃　she　said　suddenly；　〃has　it　ever　occurred　to　you　what　you　are　going　to　do　afterwards。　　Do　you　know　you　are　going　to　be　quite　well　off？〃　Benham　looked　up　with　a　faint　embarrassment。　　〃My　father　said　something。　　He　was　rather　vague。　　It　wasn't　his　affairthat　kind　of　thing。〃　〃You　will　be　quite　well　off；〃　she　repeated；　without　any　complicating　particulars。　　〃You　will　be　so　well　off　that　it　will　be　possible　for　you　to　do　anything　almost　that　you　like　in　the　world。　　Nothing　will　tie　you。　　Nothing。　。　。　。〃　〃ButHOW　well　off？〃　〃You　will　have　several　thousands　a　year。〃　〃Thousands？〃　〃Yes。　　Why　not？〃　〃ButMother；　this　is　rather　astounding。　。　。　。　　Does　this　mean　there　are　estates　somewhere；　responsibilities？〃　〃It　is　just　money。　　Investments。〃　〃You　know；　I've　imagined。　　I've　thought　always　I　should　have　to　DO　something。〃　〃You　MUST　do　something；　Poff。　　But　it　needn't　be　for　a　living。　　The　world　is　yours　without　that。　　And　so　you　see　you've　got　to　make　plans。　　You've　got　to　know　the　sort　of　people　who'll　have　things　in　their　hands。　　You've　got　to　keep　out　ofholes　and　corners。　　You've　got　to　think　of　Parliament　and　abroad。　　There's　the　army；　there's　diplomacy。　　There's　the　Empire。　　You　can　be　a　Cecil　Rhodes　if　you　like。　　You　can　be　a　Winston。　。　。　。〃

5

Perhaps　it　was　only　the　innate　eagerness　of　Lady　Marayne　which　made　her　feel　disappointed　in　her　son's　outlook　upon　life。　　He　did　not　choose　among　his　glittering　possibilities；　he　did　not　say　what　he　was　going　to　be；　proconsul；　ambassador；　statesman；　for　days。　　And　he　talked　VAGUELY　of　wanting　to　do　something　fine；　but　all　in　a　fog。　　A　boy　of　nearly　nineteen　ought　to　have　at　least　the　beginnings　of　SAVOIR　FAIRE。　Was　he　in　the　right　set？　　Was　he　indeed　in　the　right　college？　Trinity；　by　his　account；　seemed　a　huge　featureless　placeand　might　he　not　conceivably　be　LOST　in　it？　　In　those　big　crowds　one　had　to　insist　upon　oneself。　　Poff　never　insisted　upon　himselfexcept　quite　at　the　wrong　moment。　　And　there　was　this　Billy　Prswer　if　it　had　not　been　for　the　clash　of　their　minds；　was　the　chief　topic　of　their　conversation　for　many　months。　　From　Why　be　brave？　　it　spread　readily　enough　to　Why　be　honest？　　Why　be　clean？all　the　great　whys　of　life。　。　。　。　Because　one　believes。　。　。　。　　But　why　believe　it？　　Left　to　himself　Benham　would　have　felt　the　mere　asking　of　this　question　was　a　thing　ignoble；　not　to　be　tolerated。　　It　was；　as　it　were；　treason　to　nobility。　　But　Prothero　putothero。　　BILLY！　Like　a　goat　or　something。　　People　called　William　don't　get　their　Christian　name　insisted　upon　unless　they　are　vulnerable　somewhere。　Any　form　of　William　stamps　a　weakness；　Willie；　Willy；　Will；　Billy；　Bill；　it's　a　fearful　handle　for　one's　friends。　　At　any　rate　Poff　had　escaped　that。　　But　this　Prothero！　〃But　who　IS　this　Billy　Prothero？〃　she　asked　one　evening　in　the　walled　garden。　〃He　was　at　Minchinghampton。〃　〃But　who　IS　he？　　Who　is　his　father？　　Where　does　he　come　from？〃　Benham　sought　in　his　mind　for　a　space。　　〃I　don't　know；〃　he　said　at　last。　　Billy　had　always　been　rather　reticent　about　his　people。　　She　demanded　descriptions。　　She　demanded　an　account　of　Billy's　furniture；　Billy's　clothes；　Billy's　form　of　exercise。　　It　dawned　upon　Benham　that　for　some　inexplicable　reason　she　was　hostile　to　Billy。　　It　was　like　the　unmasking　of　an　ambuscade。　　He　had　talked　a　lot　about　Prothero's　ideas　and　the　discussions　of　social　reform　and　social　service　tha