the captives-第16章

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her　nor　of　the　speed　with　which　the　desire　was　growing。　She　did　not　ask　directly　for　the　things　that　she　liked；　but　manoeuvred　with　little　plots　and　intrigues　to　obtain　them。　The　cook　in　the　Warlock　household　had　neither　art　nor　science　at　her　disposal；　but　as　it　happened　old　Mrs。　Warlock　lusted　after　very　simple　things。　She　loved　rice…pudding；　her　heart　beat　fast　in　her　breast　when　she　thought　of　the　brown　crinkly　skin　of　the　rich　warm　milk　of　a　true　rice…pudding；　also　she　loved　hot　buttered　toast；　very　buttery　so　that　it　soaked　your　fingers；　also　beef…steak　pudding　with　gravy　rich　and　dark　and　its　white　covering　thick　and　heavy；　she　also　loved　hot　and　sweet　tea　and　the　little　cakes　that　Amy　sometimes　bought；　red　and　yellow　and　pink；　held　in　white　paperalso　plum…　pudding；　which；　alas！　only　came　at　Christmastime　and　wedding…cake；　which　scarcely　ever　came　at　all。

This　vice；　of　which　she　was　almost　triumphantly　conscious　as　though　it　were　a　proof　of　her　enduring　vitality；　she　clutched　eagerly　to　herself。　She　did　not　wish　that　any　human　being　should　perceive　it。　Of　her　husband　she　was　not　afraidit　would　never　possibly　occur　to　him　that　food　was　of　importance　to　any　one；　Amy　might　discover　what　she　pleased；　she　was　in　strong　alliance　with　her　mother　and　would　never　betray　her。

Her　fear　was　of　Martin。　She　feared　very　deeply　his　influence　upon　her　husband。　During　Martin's　absence　she　and　Amy　had　managed　very　successfully　to　have　the　house　as　they　wished　it；　John　Warlock；　the　master；　had　been　too　deeply　occupied　with　the　affairs　of　the　soul　to　be　concerned　also　with　the　affairs　of　the　body。

She　had；　she　believed；　exercised　an　increasing　influence　over　him。　She　had　always　loved　him　with　a　fierce　and　selfish　love；　but　now；　when　he　was　nearly　seventy；　and　to　both　of　them　only　a　few　years　of　earthly　ambition　could　remain；　she　desired；　with　all　the　urgent　ferocity　of　a　human　being　through　whose　fingers　the　last　sands　of　his　opportunity　are　slipping；　to　seize　and　hold　and　have　him　entirely　hers。　He　had　always　eluded　her；　although　he　had　once　certainly　loved　her　with；　at　any　rate；　a　semblance　of　earthly　passion；　his　spiritual　life　had　always　come　between　them；　holding　him　from　her；　helping　him　to　escape　when　he　pleased；　tantalising；　sometimes　maddening　too。　She　was　certainly　now　not　so　ready　to　dismiss　that　spiritual　life　as　once　she　had　been。　She　was　herself　an　old　heathen；　for　herself　she　believed　in　nothing　but　her　earthly　appetites　and　desires；　but　for　him　and　for　others　there　might　be　something　in　it；　。　。　。　and　perhaps　some　day　some　dreadful　thing　would　occur　。　。　。　a　chariot　of　Fire　descend　upon　the　Chapel　and　some　sort　of　a　fierce　and　hostile　God　deliver　judgment；　she　only　hoped　that　she　would　be　dead　before　then。

Meanwhile　she　and　Amy　had；　undoubtedly；　during　these　last　years；　increased　their　influence　over　him。　He　was　not　aware　of　it；　but　as　he　was　growing　now　older　and　weakerhe　had　had　trouble　with　his　hearthe　inevitably　depended　more　upon　them。　The　old　lady　began　to　count　upon　her　triumph。　Then　came　Martin's　return。

She　had　forgotten　Martin。　It　is　true　that　she　had　written　to　him　every　week　during　his　long　absence；　but　her　letters　had　been　all　part　of　the　〃dear　old　lady〃　habit　which　was　put　on　by　her　just　as　an　actress　prepares　herself；　nightly；　for　a　character　in　which　she　knows　she　is　the　greatest　possible　success。　〃Thank　you　very　much；　Mrs。　Smith　。　。　。　No；　we've　not　heard　from　Martin　now　for　three　weeks。　Careless　boy！　I　always　write　myself　every　week　so　that　he　may　have　at　any　rate　one　little　word　from　home　。　。　。〃

She　had　never　felt　that　she　had　any　real　share　in　his　life；　he　had　always　belonged　to　his　father；　nor　was　she　a　woman　who　cared　about　children。　Martin　had　long　ago　become　to　her　simply　an　opportunity　for　further　decoration。　Since　his　return　it　had　been　quite　another　affair。　In　one　moment　she　had　seen　her　power　over　her　husband　shrivel　and　disappear。　Martin　was　home　again。　Martin　must　be　here；　Martin　must　be　there；　Martin　must　see　this；　Martin　must　do　this。　She　had　seen　before　in　earlier　days　the　force　of　her　husband's　passion　when　it　was　roused。　There　was　something　now　in　his　reception　of　their　son　that　terrified　her。　She　had　at　once　perceived　that　Amy　was　as　deeply　moved　as　she。　The　girl；　plain；　awkward；　silent；　morose；　had　always　adored　her　father；　but　she　had　never　known　how　to　approach　him。　She　was　not　clever；　she　had　not　been　able　to　enter　into　his　life　although　she　would　have　done　anything　that　he　desired　of　her。　What　she　had　suffered　during　those　early　years　when；　as　a　little　ugly　girl；　she　had　watched　her　brother；　accepted；　received　into　the　Brotherhood；　praised　for　his　wisdom；　his　intimacy　with　God；　his　marvellous　saintly　promise；　praised　for　these　things　when　she　had　known　all　his　weaknesses；　how　he　had　slipped　away　to　a　music…　hall　when　he　was　only　fourteen　and　smoked　and　drank　there；　how　he　had　laughed　at　Mr。　Thurston's　dropping　of　his　〃h's〃　or　at　Miss　Avies'　prayer　meetings！　No　one　ever　knew　what　in　those　years　she　had　thought　of　her　brother。　Then；　after　Martin　had　flung　it　all　away　and　escaped　abroad；　she　had　begun；　slowly；　painfully；　but　with　dogged　persistence；　to　make　herself　indispensable　to　her　father；　Martin　she　had　put　out　of　her　mind。　He　would　never　return；　or；　at　least；　the　interval　of　his　departure　should　have　been　severe　enough　to　separate　him　for　ever　from　his　father　。　。　。

In　a　moment's　glance；　in　a　clasp　of　the　hand；　in　a　flash　of　the　eye；　she　had　seen　that　love　leap　up　in　her　father's　heart　as　strong　as　ever　it　had　been。　Every　day　of　Martin's　residence　in　the　house　had　added　fire　to　that　love。　She　was　a　good　woman；　she　struggled　hard　to　beat　down　her　jealousy。　She　prayed。　She　lay　for　hours　at　night　struggling　with　her　sins。　If　Martin　had　been　worthy；　if　he　had　shown　love　in　return；　but；　from　the　bottom　of　her　soul；　as　the　days　increased　she　despised　himdespised　him　for　his　light　heart；　his　care　of　worldly　things；　his　utter　lack　of　comprehension　of　their　father；　his　scorn；　even　now　but　badly　concealed；　of　all　the　sanctities　that　she　had　in　reverence。

Therefore　she　drew　near　to　her　mother　and　the　two　of　them　watched　and　waited　。　。　。

His　mother　was　knitting。　She　lifted　to　him　her　pink　wrinkled　face　and；　her　spectacles　balanced　on　the　end　of　her　nose；　smiled　the　smile　of　the　dearest　old　lady　in　the　world。

〃Well；　dear；　and　have　you　had　a　pleasant　day？〃

〃All　right；　mother；　thank　you。　Funny　thing；　met　a　man　in　the　street；　hadn't　seen　for　five　years。　Saw　him　last　in　RioFunny　thing。　Well；　we　lunched　together。　Not　a　bad　fellowSeen　a　thing　or　two；　he　has。〃

Mrs。　Warlock　counted　her　stitches。　〃Fourteen；　fifteen；　sixteen　。　。　。　How　nice　for　you；　dear。　What　was　his　name？〃

〃Thompson　。　。　。　I　say；〃　Martin　suddenly　raised　his　head　as　though　he　heard　something；　〃where's　Amy？〃

〃Changing。　She's　been　paying　a　call　on　the　Miss　Cardinals。　Thought　it　would　be　polite　because　of　the　new　niece。Six；　seven；　eight　and　nine　。　。　。〃

〃What　did　she　think　of　her？〃

〃Of　whom；　dear？〃

〃Of　the　niece。〃

〃Oh；　I　don't　think　she　liked　her　very　much。　She　said　that　she　was　plain　and　silentand　looked　cross；　Amy　thought。〃

〃Oh　yes；　Amy　would。〃　His　face；　as　was　his　way　when　he　was　vexed；　flushed　very　slowly；　the　deeper　red　rising　through　the　red…brown　until；　ceasing　in　the　middle　of　his　forehead；　it　left　a　white　line　beneath　his　hair。　〃She　isn't　cross　a　bit。〃

〃I　don't　know；　dear。　It　isn't　my　opinion。　I　only　tell　you　what　Amy　said。　People　here　don't　seem　to　like　her。　Mrs。　Smith　was　telling　me　yesterday　that　she's　so　difficult　to　talk　to　and　seems　to　know　nothing　about　anything；　poor　girl。〃

〃Mrs。　Smith！〃　He　swung　his　body　on　his　hips　indignantly。　〃A　lot　she　knows　about　anything！　I　hate　that　woman　and　her　chattering　daughter。〃

〃Well；　dear；　I　don't　know；　I'm　sure；　Mrs。　Smith　always　seems　to　me　very　kind。〃

He　looked　at　her　as　though　he　had　suddenly　remembered　something。

〃I　sayis　it　true　what　Amy　says；　that　I　woke　you　up　this　morning　when　I　went　out　by　banging　my　door？〃

〃I'm　sure　you　didn't。Amy　shouldn't　say　such　things。　And　if　you　did　what　does　it　matter？　I　sleep　so　badly　that　half　an　hour　more　or　less　makes　very　little　difference。〃

〃Well；　she　says　so〃　He　went　on；　dropping　his　voice：　〃I　say；　mother；　what's　the　matter　with　Amy？　Why's　she　so　sick　with　me？　I　haven't　done　anything　to　offend　her；　have　I？〃

〃Of　course　not。　What　a　silly　boy　you　are；　Martin！　Nine；　ten；　eleven　。　。　。　There！　that's　enough　for　this　evening。　I'll　finish　it　in　another　day。　You　mustn't　mind　Amy；　Martin。　She　isn't　always　very　well。〃

The　door　opened　and　Amy　came　in。　She　was　a　tall　gaunt　woman　who　looked　a　great　deal　older　than　her　brother。　She　did　not　make　the　best　of　herself；　brushing　her　thin　black　hair　straight　back　from　her　bony　forehead。　She　had　a　habit　of　half　closing　her　eyes　when　she　peered　at　some　one　as　though　she　could　not　see。　She　should；　long　ago；　have　worn　spectacles；　but　from　some　strange　half…conscious　vanity　had　always　refused　to　do　so。　Every　year　her　sight　grew　worse。　She　was　wearing　now　a　dress　of　black　silk；　very　badly　made；　cut　to　display　her　long　skinny　neck　and　bony　shoulders。　She　wore　her　clothes　as　though　she　struggled　between　a　disdain　for　such　vanities　and　a　desire　to　appear　attractive。　Her　manner　of　twisting　her　eyelids　and　wrinkling　her　nose　gave　her　a　peevish　expression；　but；　behind　that；　there　was　a　hint　of　pathos；　a　half…seen　glimpse　of　a　soul　that　desired　friendship　and　affection。　She　was　very　tall　and　there　was　something　masculine　in　the　long　angularity　of　her　limbs。　She　offered　a　strange　contrast　to　the　broad　and　ruddy　Martin。　There　was；　however；　something　in　the　eyes　of　eachsome　sudden　surprised　almost　visionary　flash　that　came　and　went　that　showed　them　to　be　the　children　of　the　same　father。　To　Mrs。　Warlock　they　bore　no　resemblance　whatever。　Amy　stopped　when　she　saw　her　brother　as　though　she　had　not　expected　him　to　be　there。

〃Well；　Martin；〃　she　saidthen　came　forward　and　sat　in　a　chair　opposite　her　mother。

〃Mr。　Thurston's　coming　to　suppar；〃　she　said。

Martin　frowned。　〃Oh；　hang　it；　what　for？〃　he　cried。

〃He's　taking　me　to　Miss　Aries'　Bible　meeting；〃　Amy　answered　coldly。　〃What　a　baby　you　are　about　people；　Martin。　I　should　have　thought　all　your　living　abroad　so　much　would　have　made　you　understanding。　But　you're　like　the　rest。　You　must　have　every　one　cut　to　the　same　pattern。〃

Martin　looked　up　for　a　moment　as　though　he　would　answer　angrily；　then　he　controlled　himself　and　said；　laughing：　〃I　suppose　I　have　my　prejudices　like　every　one　else。　I　daresay　Thurston's　a　very　good　sort　of　fellow；　but　we　don't　like　one　another；　and　there's　an　end　of　it；　Everybody　can't　like　everybody；　Amywhy；　even　you　don't　like　every　one。〃

〃No；　I　don't；〃　she　answered　shortly。

She　looked　for　an　instant　at　her　mother。　Martin　caught　the　glance　that　passed　between　them；　and　suddenly　the　discomfort　of　which　he　had　been　aware　as　he　stood；　half　an　hour　before；　in　the　street；　returned　to　him　with　redoubled　force。　What　was　the　matter　with　everybody？　What　had　he　done？

〃Well；　I'll　go　and　change；〃　he　said。

〃Dinner　will　be　ready　in　ten　minutes；　dear；〃　said　his　mother。

〃I'll　be　in　time　all　right；〃　he　said。

At　the　door　he　almost　ran　into　Mr。　Thurston。　This　gentleman　had　been　described；　on　some　earlier