the captives-第15章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


et；　that　it　would　be　in　the　next　generation；　but　that　their　preparations　must　not　be　relaxed。　He　himself　prepared　by　taking　to　himself　a　wife；　a　calm　untroubled　countrywoman　of　the　place；　that　she　might　give　him　a　son　whom　he　might　prepare；　in　due　course；　for　his　great　destiny。　John；　father　of　Martin；　was　born；　a　large…limbed；　smiling　infant；　with　the　tranquillity　of　his　mother　as　well　as　something　of　the　mysticism　of　his　father。

Upon　him；　as　upon　his　ancestors；　this　consciousness　of　God　had　most　absolutely　descended。　Never　for　a　moment　did　he　question　the　facts　that　his　father　told　to　him。　He　grew　into　a　giant　of　health　and　strength；　and　those　who；　in　those　old　days；　saw　them　tell　that　it　was　a　strange　picture　to　watch　the　little　wizened　man；　walking　with　odd　emotional　gestures；　with　little　hops　and　leaps　and　swinging　of　the　arms　beside　the　firm　long　stride　of　the　young　man　towering　above　him。

When　young　John　was　twenty…three　years　of　age　his　father　was　found　dead　under　a　tree　upon　a　summer's　evening。　His　expression　was　of　a　man　challenging　some　new　and　startling　discovery；　he　had　found　perhaps　new　visions　to　confront　his　gaze。　They　buried　him　in　Kingscote　and　his　son　reigned　in　his　stead。

But　they　were　approaching　new　and　modern　times。　These　old　days；　of　simple　faith　and　superstition　were　passing　never　to　return。　There　were　new　elements　in　the　Kingscote　company　of　souls　and　these　elements　demanded　freer　play　both　of　thought　and　action。　They　argued　that；　as　to　them　alone　out　of　all　the　world　the　time　and　manner　of　God's　coming　was　known；　they　should　influence　with　their　activities　some　wider　sphere　than　this　Wiltshire　village。

John　Warlock　clung　with　all　his　strength　to　the　old　world　that　he　knew；　the　world　that　gave　him　leisure　and　quiet　for　contemplation。　He　had　no　wish　to　bring　in　converts；　to　stir　England　into　a　frenzy　of　terror　and　anticipation。　God　gave　him　no　command　to　spread　his　beliefs；　even　his　father；　fanatic　though　he　had　been；　had　cherished　his　own　small　company　of　saints　as　souls　to　whom　these　things；　hidden　deliberately　from　the　outside　world；　had　especially　been　entrusted。

So　long　as　he　could　he　resisted；　then　when　he　was　about　forty；　somewhere　around　1880；　the　Kingscote　Brethren　moved　to　London。　In　this　year；　1907；　John　Warlock　was　sixty…seven　and　the　Kingscote　Brethren　had　had　their　Chapel　in　Solomon's　Place；　behind　Garrick　Street；　for　twenty…seven　years。　In　1880　John　Warlock　had　married　Amelia；　daughter　of　Francis　Stephens；　merchant。　In　1881　a　daughter；　Amy；　was　born　to　them；　in　1883；　Martin；　they　had　no　other　children。　Martin　was　at　the　time　of　Maggie's　arrival　in　London　twenty…four　years　of　age。

Upon　a　certain　fine　evening；　a　fortnight　after　Martin　Warlock's　first　meeting　with　Maggie；　he　arrived　at　the　door　of　his　house　in　Garrick　Street；　and　having　forgotten　his　latch…key；　was　compelled　to　ring　the　old　screaming　bell　that　had　long　survived　its　respectable　reputable　days。　The　Warlocks　had　lived　during　the　last　ten　years　in　an　upper　part　above　a　curiosity　shop　four　doors　from　the　Garrick　Club　in　Garrick　Street。　There　was　a　house…door　that　abutted　on　to　the　shop…door　and；　passing　through　it；　you　stumbled　along　a　little　dark　passage　like　a　rabbit　warren；　up　some　crooked　stairs；　and　found　yourself　in　the　Warlock　country　without　ever　troubling　Mr。　Spencer；　the　stout；　hearty；　but　inartistic　owner　of　the　curiosity　shop。

On　the　present　occasion；　after　pulling　the　bell；　Martin　stared　down　the　street　as　though　somewhere　in　the　dim　golden　light　of　its　farthest　recesses　he　would　find　an　answer　to　a　question　that　he　was　asking。　The　broad　sturdy　strength　of　his　body；　the　easy　good…temper　of　his　expression　spoke　of　a　life　lived　physically　rather　than　mentally。　And　yet　this　was　only　half　true。　Martin　Warlock　should　at　this　time　have　been　a　quite　normal　young　man　with　normal　desires；　normal　passions；　normal　instincts。　Such　he　would　undoubtedly　have　been　had　he　not　had　his　early　environment　of　egotism；　mystery　and　clap…traphad　he；　also；　not　developed　through　his　childhood　and　youth　his　passionate　devotion　to　his　father。　The　religious　ceremonies　of　his　young　days　had　made　him　self…conscious　and　introspective　and；　although　during　his　years　abroad　he　had　felt　on　many　occasions　that　he　was　completely　freed　from　his　early　bondage；　scenes；　thoughts　and　longings　would　recur　and　remind　him　that　he　was　celebrating　his　liberty　too　soon。　The　licences　that　to　most　men　in　their　first　youth　are　incidental　and　easily　forgotten　engraved　themselves　upon　Martin's　reluctant　soul　because　of　that　religious　sense　that　had　been　driven　in　upon　him　at　the　very　hour　of　his　birth。　He　could　not　sin　and　forget。　He　sinned　and　was　remorseful；　was　impatient　at　his　remorse；　sinned　again　to　rid　himself　of　it　and　was　more　remorseful　still。　The　main　impulse　of　his　life　at　this　time　was　his　self…distrust。　He　fancied　that　by　returning　home　he　might　regain　confidence。　He　longed　to　rid　himself　of　the　conviction　that　he　was　〃set　aside〃　by　some　fate　or　other；　call　it　God　or　not　as　you　please。　He　thought　that　he　hurt　all　those　whom　he　loved　when　his　only　longing　was　to　do　them　good。　He　used　suddenly　to　leave　his　friends　because　he　thought　that　he　was　doing　them　harm。　It　was　as　though　he　heard　some　Power　saying　to　him：　〃I　marked　you　out　for　my　own　in　the　beginning　and　you　can't　escape　me。　You　may　struggle　as　you　like。　Until　you　surrender　everything　shall　turn　to　dust　in　your　hands。〃　He　came　back　to　England　determined　to　assert　his　independence。

He　gazed　now　at　the　placidity　of　Garrick　Street　with　the　intensity　of　some　challenging　〃Stand　and　Deliver！〃　All　that　the　street　had　to　give　for　the　moment　was　a　bishop　and　an　actor　mounting　the　steps　of　the　Garrick　Club；　an　old　lady　with　a　black　bonnet　and　a　milk…jug；　a　young　man　in　a　hurry　and　a　failure　selling　bootlaces。　None　of　them　could　be　expected　to　offer　reassurance　to　Martinnone　of　these　noticed　himbut　an　intelligent　observer；　had　such　a　stranger　to　Garrick　Street　been　present；　might　have　found　that　gaze　of　interest。　Martin's　physical　solidity　could　not　entirely　veil　the　worried　uncertain　glance　that　flashed　for　a　moment　and　then；　with　a　little　reassuring　sigh；　was　gone。

The　door　opened；　a　girl　looked　for　a　moment　into　the　street；　he　passed　inside。　Having　stumbled　up　the　dark　stairs；　pushed　back　their　private　entrance；　hung　up　his　coat　in　the　little　hall；　with　a　deliberate　effort　he　shook　off　the　suspicions　that　had；　during　the　last　moments；　troubled　him　and　prepared　to　meet　his　mother　and　sister。

Because　he　had　a　happy；　easy　and　affectionate　temperament　absence　always　gilded　his　friends　with　gifts　and　qualities　that　their　presence　only　too　often　denied。　His　years　abroad　had　given　him　a　picture　of　his　mother　and　sister　that　the　few　weeks　of　his　return　had　already　dimmed　and　obscured。　His　mother's　weekly　letters　had；　during　ten　long　years；　built　up　an　image　of　her　as　the　dearest　old　lady　in　the　world。　He　had　always；　since　a　child；　seen　her　in　a　detached　wayhis　deep　and　permanent　relations　had　been　with　his　fatherbut　those　letters；　of　which　he　had　now　a　deep　and　carefully　cherished　pile；　gave　him　a　most　charming　picture　of　her。　They　had　not　been　clever　nor　deep　nor　indeed　very　interesting；　but　they　had　been　affectionate　and　tender　with　all　the　gentleness　of　the　figure　that　he　remembered　sitting　in　its　lace　cap　beside　the　fire。

After　three　weeks　of　home　life　he　was　compelled　to　confess　that　he　did　not　in　the　least　understand　his　mother。　His　intuitions　about　people　were　not　in　fact　of　a　very　penetrating　character。

His　mother　appeared　to　all　her　world　as　a　〃sweet　old　lady；〃　but　even　Martin　could　already　perceive　that　was　not　in　the　least　what　she　really　was。　He　had　seen　her　old　hands　tremble　with　suppressed　temper　on　the　very　day　after　his　arrival；　he　had　seen　her　old　lips　white　with　anger　because　the　maid　had　brought　her　the　wrong　shawl。　Old　ladies　must　of　course　have　their　fancies；　but　his　mother　had　some　fixed　and　fierce　purpose　in　her　life　that　was　quite　beyond　his　powers　of　penetration。　It　might　of　course　have　something　to　do　with　her　attachment　to　his　father。　Attached　Martin　could　see　that　she　was；　but　at　the　same　time　completely　and　eternally　outside　her　husband's　spiritual　life。　That　might　have　been　perhaps　in　the　first　place　by　her　own　desireshe　did　not　want　〃to　be　bothered　with　all　that　nonsense。〃　But　certainly　all　these　years　with　him　had　worked　upon　her：　she　was　not　perhaps　so　sure　now　that　it　was　all　〃nonsense。〃　She　wanted；　it　might　be；　a　closer　alliance　with　him；　which　she　could　not　have　because　she　had　once　rejected　the　chance　of　it。　Martin　did　not　know；　he　was　aware　that　there　was　a　great　deal　going　on　in　the　house　that　he　did　not　fathom。　Amy；　his　sister；　knew。　There　was　an　alliance　between　his　mother　and　his　sister　deep　and　strong；　as　he　could　seehe　did　not　yet　know　that　it　was　founded　very　largely　on　dislike　and　fear　of　himself。

How　fantastic　these　theories　of　fire　and　passion　must　seem；　he　amused　himself　by　considering；　to　any　one　who　knew　his　mother　only　from　the　outside。　She　was　sitting　to…day　as　always　in　her　little　pink　and　white　chintz　drawing…room；　a　bright　fire　burning　and　a　canary　singing　in　a　cage　beside　the　window。　The　rest　of　the　house　was　ugly　and　strangely　uninhabited　as　though　the　Warlocks　had　merely　pitched　their　tents　for　a　night　and　were　moving　forward　to…morrow；　but　this　little　room；　close；　smelling　of　musk　and　sweet　biscuits　（a　silver　box　with　lemon…shaped　biscuits　in　it　stood　on　a　little　table　near　the　old　lady）；　with　its　pretty　pink　curtains；　its　canary；　and　its　heavy　and　softly　closing　door；　was　like　a　place　enclosed；　dedicated　to　the　world；　and　ruled　by　a　remorseless　spirit　of　comfort。

Mrs。　Warlock　was　only　sixty　years　of　age；　but　she　had；　a　number　of　years　ago；　declared　herself　an　invalid；　and　now　never；　unless　she　drove　on　a　very　fine　afternoon；　left　the　house。　Whether　she　were　truly　an　invalid　nobody　knew；　she　presented　certainly　a　most　healthy　appearance　with　her　shell…pink　cheeks；　her　snow…white　hair；　her　firm　bosom　rising　and　falling　with　such　gentle　regularity　beneath　the　tight　and　shining　black　silk　that　covered　it；　her　clear　bright　eyes　like　shining　glass。　She　always　sat　in　a　deep　arm…chair　covered　with　the　chintz　of　the　curtains　and　filled　with　plump　pillows　of　pink　silk。　A　white　filmy　shawl　was　spread　over　her　knees；　at　her　throat　was　a　little　bright　coquettish　blue　bow　that　added；　amazingly；　to　the　innocent　charm　of　her　old　age。　On　her　white　hair；　crinkled　and　arranged　as　though　it　were　some　ornament；　not　quite　a　wig　but　still　apart　from　the　rest　of　her　body；　she　wore　a　lace　cap。　She　was　fond　of　knitting；　she　made　warm　woollen　comforters　and　underclothing　for　the　children　of　the　poor。　She　was　immensely　fond　of　conversation；　being　of　an　inquisitive　nature。　But　above　all　was　she　fond　of　eating。　This　covetousness　of　food　had　grown　on　her　as　her　years　had　increased。　The　thought　of　foods　of　various　kinds　filled　many　hours　of　her　day；　and　the　desire　for　pleasant　things　to　eat　was　the　motive　of　many　of　her　most　deliberate　actions。　She　cherished　warmly　and　secretly　this　little　lust　of　hers。　None　of　the　family　was　aware　of　the　grip　that　the　desire　had　upon　her　nor　of　the　speed　with　which　the　desire　was　growing。　She　did　not　ask　directly　for　the　things　that