the captives-第17章

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〃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　occasion；　by　an　unfriendly　observer　as　〃the　Suburban　Savonarola。〃　He　was　tall　and　extremely　thin　with　a　bony　pointed　face　that　was　in　some　lights　grey　and　in　others　white。　He　had　the　excited　staring　eyes　of　a　fanatic；　and　his　hair　now　very　scanty；　was　plastered　over　his　head　in　black　shining　streaks。　He　wore　a　rather　faded　black　suit；　a　white　low　collar　and　a　white　bow　tie。　He　had　a　habit；　at　moments　of　stress；　of　cracking　his　fingers。　He　had　a　very　pronounced　cockney　accent　when　he　was　excited；　at　other　times　he　struggled　against　this　with　some　success。

He　passed　from　brooding　silences　into　sudden　bursts　of　declamation　with　such　abruptness　that　strangers　thought　him　very　eloquent。　When　he　was　excited　the　colour　ran　into　his　nose　as　though　he　had　been　drinking；　and　often　his　ears　were　red。　His　history　was　simple。　The　son　of　a　small　draper　in　Streatham；　he　had　at　an　early　age　joined　himself　to　an　American　Revivalist　called　Harper。　When　after　some　six　years　of　successful　enterprise　Mr。　Harper　had　been　imprisoned　for　forgery；　young　William　Thurston　had　attached　himself　to　a　Christian　Science　Chapel　in　Hoxton。　Then；　somewhere　about　1897；　he　had　met　Miss　Avies　at　a　Revivalist　Meeting　in　the　Albert　Hall　and；　fascinated　by　her　ardent　spirit；　transferred　his　services　to　the　Kingscote　Brethren。

He　had　now　risen　to　a　position　of　great　importance　in　the　Chapel；　it　was　known　that　he　disagreed　profoundly　with　his　leader　on　some　vital　questions；　and　it　was　thought　that　he　might　at　a　later　date　definitely　secede　and　conduct　a　party　of　his　own。

Certainly　he　had　exceptional　energies　and　gifts　of　exhortation　and　invective　not　to　be　despised。　Martin　politely　wished　him　〃Good　evening〃　and　escaped　to　his　room。

As　he　changed　his　clothes　he　tried　to　translate　into　definite　facts　his　vague　discomfort。　One；　he　hated　that　swine　Thurston。　Two；　Amy　was　vexed　with　him　（What　strange　impossible　creatures　women　were！）。　Thirdand　by　far　the　most　important　of　them　allhis　father　wanted　to　talk　to　him。　He　knew　very　well　that　this　talk　had　been　preparing　for　him　ever　since　his　return　from　abroad。　He　dreaded　it。　Oh！　he　dreaded　it　most　horribly！

He　loved　his　father　but　with　a　love　that　had　in　it　elements　of　fear；　timidity；　every　possible　sort　of　awkwardness。　Moreover　he　was　helpless。　Ever　since　that　first　day　when　as　a　tiny　child　of　four　or　five　he　had　awakened　to　behold　that　figure；　enormous　in　a　long　night…shirt；　summoning　God　in　the　middle　of　the　night　with　a　candle　flickering　fantastic　shadows　on　to　the　wall　behind　them；　Martin　had　been　weak　as　putty　in　his　father's　hands。　Against　other　men　he　could　stand　up；　against　that　strange　company　of　fears；　affections；　superstitions；　shadowy　terrors；　dim　expectations　that　his　father　presented　to　him　he　could　do　nothing。

Wellthat　conversation　had　to　come　some　time。　He　must　show　that　he　was　a　man　now；　moulded　by　the　world　with　his　own　beliefs；　purposes；　resolves。　But　if　he　did　not　love　him；　how　much　easier　it　would　be！

When　he　went　downstairs　he　found　the　old　man　in　the　little　pink　drawing…roomhe　looked　tired　and　worn。　Martin　remembered　with　alarm　the　things　that　he　had　heard　recently　about　his　father's　heart。　He　glanced　up　and　the　older　man's　hand　fastened　on　his　shoulder；　they　stood　there　side　by　side。　After　a　few　minutes　they　all　went　in　to　supper。

Mr。　Thurston's　nose　was　flushed　with　the　success　of　the　mission　from　which　he　had　just　returned。　He　had　been　one　of　a　number　whose　aim　it　had　been　during　the　preceding　week　to　bring　light　and　happiness　into　the　lives　of　the　inhabitants　of　Putney。　They　had　been　obviously　appreciated；　as　the　collection　for　the　week　had　amounted　to　between　seventy　and　eighty　pounds。　A　proper　share　of　this　fine　result　Mr。　Thurston　naturally　appropriated　to　his　own　efforts。　His　long　tapering　fingers　were　not　so　clean　as　they　might　have　been；　but　this　did　not　prevent　him　from　waving　them　in　the　air　and　pointing　them　at　imaginary　Putney　citizens　whom　he　evoked　in　support　of　his　statements。

〃We　'ad　a　reelly　thumpin'　meeting　on　ThursdayTown　HallOne　for　the　women　in　the　small　'all　hand　one　for　the　men　in　the　Main　Hall。　Almost　no　opposition　you　might　say；　and　when　it　came　to　the　Hymn　singing　it　fairly　took　the　roof　off。　A　lot　of　'em　stopped　afterwardsone　lad　of　eighteen　or　so　is　coming　over　to　us　'ere。　Butcher's　apprentice。　Says　'e's　felt　the　Lord　pressing　him　a　long　way　back　but　the　flesh　held　him。　Might　work　him　up　into　a　very　useful　lad　with　the　Lord's　help。　Thank　you；　Mrs。　Warlock；　I　will　try　a　bit　more　of　that　cold　beef　if　you　don't　mind。　Pretty　place；　Putney。　Ever　been　there；　Mr。　Warlock？　Ah；　you　should　go〃

Amy　Warlock　listened　with　the　greatest　interest；　otherwise；　it　must　be　confessed；　Mr。　Thurston's　audience　was　somewhat　inattentive。　Mr。　Warlock's　mind　was　obviously　elsewhere；　he　passed　his　hand　through　his　beard；　his　eyes　staring　at　the　table…cloth。　Mr。　Thurston；　noticing　this；　tried　another　topic。

〃What　'ave　you　heard；　Mrs。　Warlock；　about　the　new　Miss　Cardinal？　I　'aven't　seen　her　yet　myself。〃

Mrs。　Warlock；　who　had　just　given　herself　a　little　piece　of　beef；　some　potato　and　some　spinach；　and　was　arranging　these　delicacies　with　the　greatest　care　upon　her　plate；　just　smiled　without　raising　her　eyes。　Amy　answered

〃I've　seen　her。　I　was　there　this　afternoon。　I　can't　say　that　I　found　her　very　interesting。　Plain…ugly　in　fact。　She　never　opened　her　mouth　all　the　afternoon。　Caroline　Smith　tells　me　that　she　knows　nothing　at　all；　seen　nothing；　been　nowhere。　Bad…tempered　I　should　think。〃

〃Dear；　dear；〃　said　Mr。　Thurston　with　a　gratified　sigh；　〃is　it　so　reelly？〃

Martin　looked　across　at　his　sister　indignantly。　〃Trust　one　woman　about　another；〃　he　said。　〃Just　because　she　doesn't　chatter　like　a　magpie　you　concluded　she's　got　nothing　to　say。　It's　even　conceivable　that　she　found　you　dull；　Amy。〃

Amy　looked　at　him　with　a　strange　penetrating　glance　that　in　some　undefined　way　increased　his　irritation。　〃It's　quite　possible；〃　she　said　quietly。　〃But　I　don't　think　even　you；　Martin；　can　call　her　handsome。　As　to　her　intelligence；　she　never　gave　me　a　chance　of　judging。〃

〃I've　been　there　several　times；〃　said　Martin　hotly。　〃I　like　her　immensely。〃　He　felt　as　soon　as　he　had　spoken　that　it　had　been　a　foolish　thing　to　say。　He　saw　Mr。　Thurston　smile。　In　the　pause　that　followed　he　felt　as　though　he　had　with　a　gesture　of　the　hand　flung　a　stone　into　a　pool　of　chatter　and　scandal　whose　ripples　might　spread　far　beyond　his　control。　At　that　moment　he　hated　his　sister。

〃I　didn't　know　you　knew　her　so　well；　dear；〃　said　his　mother。

〃I　don't　know　her；〃　he　said；　〃I've　only　seen　her　three　times。　But　she　ought　to　be　given　her　chance。　It　can't　be　much　fun　for　her　coming　here　where　she　knows　no　oneafter　her　father　suddenly　dying。　I　believe　she　was　all　alone　with　him。〃

He　had　expected　his　father　to　defend　her。　He　remembered　that　he　had　apparently　liked　her。　But　his　father　said　nothing。　There　was　an　awkward　and　uncomfortable　pause。　After　supper　Mr。　Thurston　rubbed　his　hands；　helped　Amy　Warlock　into　her　cloak；　said　to　the　company　in　general：

〃Good　night。　Should　be　a　very　full　meeting　to…night　。　。　。　Well；　well　。　。　。　Thank　you　for　your　kindness；　Mrs。　Warlock；　I'm　sure。〃

The　door　was　closed；　Mrs。　Warlock　retired　into　her　bedroom；　the　house　was　left　to　Martin　and　his　father。

Mr。　Warlock's　room　was　hideous。　It　opened；　somewhat　ironically；　out　of　Mrs。　Warlock's　pink　drawing…room。　A　huge　and　exceedingly　ugly　American　roll…top　desk　took　up　much　of　the　room。　There　were　bookshelves　into　which　books　had　been　piled。　Commentaries　on　the　Bible；　volumes　of　sermons；　pamphlets；　tattered　copies　of　old　religious　magazines。　A　bare　carpet　displayed　holes　and　rents。　The　fireplace　was　grim　with　dirty　pieces　of　paper　and　untidy　shavings。　In　the　midst　of　this　disorder　there　hung　over　the　mantelpiece；　against　the　faded　grey　wall…paper；　a　fine　copy　of　Raphael's　〃Transfiguration。〃　Mr。　Warlock　lighted　a　candle　and　the　flame　flickered　with　changing　colours　upon　the　picture's　surface。　It　had　been　given　to　John　Warlock　many　years　before　by　an　old　lady　who　heard　him　preach　and　had　been；　for　a　week；　converted；　but　on　his　demand　that　she　should　give　her　wealth　to　the　poor　and　fling　aside　her　passion　for　Musical　Comedy；　left　him　with　indignation。　The　picture　had　remained；　it　hung　there　now　crooked　on　its　cord。

John　Warlock　was　unconscious　of　the　dust　and　disorder　that　surrounded　him。　His　own　passion　for　personal　cleanliness　sprang　from　the　early　days　with　his　father；　to　whom　bodily　cleanliness　had　been　part　of　a　fanatical　mysticism。　Partly　also　by　reason　of　that　early　training；　sloth；　drunkenness；　immorality；　had　no　power　over　him。　And　of　the　whole　actual　world　that　surrounded　him　he　was　very　little　conscious　except　that　he　hated　towns　and　longed　always　for　air　and　space。

So　that　the　windows　were　open　one　room　was　to　him　as　another。

He　had　often；　during　his　work　with　the　members　of　his　community；　been　conscious　of　his　ignorance　of　the　impulses　and　powers　that　went　up　to　make　the　ordinary　sensual　physical　life　of　the　normal　man。　His　own　troubles；　trials；　failures　were　so　utterly　of　another　kind　that　in　this　other　world　his　imagination　refused　to　aid　him。　This　had　often　deeply　distressed　him　and　made　him　timid　and　shy　in　his　dealings　with　men　and　women。　It　was　this；　more　than　anything　else；　that　held　him　back　from　the　ambition　to　proselytise。　How　could　he　go　forth　and　challenge　men's　souls　when　he　could　not　understand　nor　feel　their　difficulties？　More　and　more　as　his　years　advanced　had　he　retired　into　himself；　into　his　own　mystical　world　of　communion　with　a　God　who　drew　ever　nearer　and　nearer　to　him。　He　humbled　himself　before　men；　he　did　not　believe　himself　better　than　they　because　he　had　not　yielded　to　their　temptations；　but　he　could　not　help　them；　his　tongue　was　tied；　he　was　a　man　cut　off　from　his　fellows　and　he　knew　it。

He　had　never　felt　so　impatient　of　his　impotence　as　he　did　to…night。　For　ten　years　he　had　been　waiting　for　this　interview　with　his　son；　and　now　that　it　was　come　he　was　timid　and　afraid　as　though　he　had　been　opposed　by　a　stranger。　He　had　always　known　that　Martin　would　return。　It　had　been　his　one　worldly　ambition　and　prayer　to　have　him　at　his　side　again。　When　he　had　thought　and　dreamt　of　the　time　that　was　coming；　he　had　thought　that　it　would　be　simple　enough　to　win　the　boy　back　to　the　old　allegiance　and　faith　to　which　he　had　once　been　bound。　Meanwhile　the　boy　had　grown　into　a　man；　here　was　a　new　Martin　deep　in　experiences；　desires；　ambitions　of　which　his　father　could　have　no　perception。　Even　in　the　moment　that　he　was　aware　of　the　possibility　of　losing　his　son　he　was　aware　also　of　the　deep　almost　fanatical　resolve　to　keep　him；　to　hold　him　at　all　costs。

This　was　to　be　the　test　of　his　whole　earthly　life。　He　seemed；　as　he　sat　there；　looking　across　at　his　boy；　to　challenge　God　Himself　to　take　him　from　him。　It　was　as　though　he　said：

〃This　reward　at　least　I　have　a　right　to　ask。　I　demand　it　。　。　。〃

Martin；　on　his　side；　was　conscious　of　a　profound　discomfort。　He　had；　increasingly　as　the　years　had　passed；　wished　to　take　life　easily　and　pleasantly。　Suddenly　now　another　world　rose　u