fraternity-第39章

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A　woman　in　a　lilac　frock　came　stealing　through　the　trees　towards　Bianca；　and　sitting　down　not　far　off；　kept　looking　quickly　round　under　her　sunshade。

Presently　Bianca　saw　what　she　was　looking　for。　　A　young　man　in　black　coat　and　shining　hat　came　swiftly　up　and　touched　her　shoulder。　　Half　hidden　by　the　foliage　they　sat；　leaning　forward；　prodding　gently　at　the　ground　with　stick　and　parasol；　the　stealthy　murmur　of　their　talk；　so　soft　and　intimate　that　no　word　was　audible；　stole　across　the　grass；　and　secretly　he　touched　her　hand　and　arm。　　They　were　not　of　the　holiday　crowd；　and　had　evidently　chosen　out　this　vulgar　afternoon　for　a　stolen　meeting。

Bianca　rose　and　hurried　on　amongst　the　trees。　　She　left　the　Park。　　In　the　streets　many　couples；　not　so　careful　to　conceal　their　intimacy；　were　parading　arm…in…arm。　　The　sight　of　them　did　not　sting　her　like　the　sight　of　those　lovers　in　the　Park；　they　were　not　of　her　own　order。　　But　presently　she　saw　a　little　boy　and　girl　asleep　on　the　doorstep　of　a　mansion；　with　their　cheeks　pressed　close　together　and　their　arms　round　each　other；　and　again　she　hurried　on。　　In　the　course　of　that　long　wandering　she　passed　the　building　which　〃Westminister〃　was　so　anxious　to　avoid。　　In　its　gateway　an　old　couple　were　just　about　to　separate；　one　to　the　men's；　the　other　to　the　women's　quarters。　　Their　toothless　mouths　were　close　together。　　〃Well；　goodnight；　Mother！〃　　〃Good…night；　Father；　good…night…take　care　o'　yourself！〃

Once　more　Bianca　hurried　on。

It　was　past　nine　when　she　turned　into　the　Old　Square；　and　rang　the　bell　of　her　sister's　house　with　the　sheer　physical　desire　to　rest　somewhere　that　was　not　her　home。

At　one　end　of　the　long；　low　drawing…room　Stephen；　in　evening　dress；　was　reading　aloud　from　a　review。　　Cecilia　was　looking　dubiously　at　his　sock；　where　she　seemed　to　see　a　tiny　speck　of　white　that　might　be　Stephen。　　In　the　window　at　the　far　end　Thyme　and　Martin　were　exchanging　speeches　at　short　intervals；　they　made　no　move　at　Bianca's　entrance；　and　their　faces　said：　〃We　have　no　use　for　that　handshaking　nonsense！〃

Receiving　Cecilia's　little；　warm；　doubting　kiss　and　Stephen's　polite；　dry　handshake；　Bianca　motioned　to　him　not　to　stop　reading。　　He　resumed。　　Cecilia；　too；　resumed　her　scrutiny　of　Stephen's　sock。

'Oh　dear！'　she　thought。　　'I　know　B。's　come　here　because　she's　unhappy。　　Poor　thing！　　Poor　Hilary！　　It's　that　wretched　business　again；　I　suppose。'

Skilled　in　every　tone　of　Stephen's　voice；　she　knew　that　Bianca's　entry　had　provoked　the　same　train　of　thought　in　him；　to　her　he　seemed　reading　out　these　words：　'I　disapproveI　disapprove。　　She's　Cis's　sister。　　But　if　it　wasn't　for　old　Hilary　I　wouldn't　have　the　subject　in　the　house！'

Bianca；　whose　subtlety　recorded　every　shade　of　feeling；　could　see　that　she　was　not　welcome。　　Leaning　back　with　veil　raised；　she　seemed　listening　to　Stephen's　reading；　but　in　fact　she　was　quivering　at　the　sight　of　those　two　couples。

Couples；　couplesfor　all　but　her！　　What　crime　had　she　committed？　Why　was　the　china　of　her　cup　flawed　so　that　no　one　could　drink　from　it？　　Why　had　she　been　made　so　that　nobody　could　love　her？　　This；　the　most　bitter　of　all　thoughts；　the　most　tragic　of　all　questionings；　haunted　her。

The　article　which　Stephen　readexplaining　exactly　how　to　deal　with　people　so　that　from　one　sort　of　human　being　they　might　become　another；　and　going　on　to　prove　that　if；　after　this　conversion；　they　showed　signs　of　a　reversion；　it　would　then　be　necessary　to　know　the　reason　whyfell　dryly　on　ears　listening　to　that　eternal　question：　Why　is　it　with　me　as　it　is？　　It　is　not　fair！listening　to　the　constant　murmuring　of　her　pride：　I　am　not　wanted　here　or　anywhere。　Better　to　efface　myself！

》From　their　end　of　the　room　Thyme　and　Martin　scarcely　looked　at　her。　To　them　she　was　Aunt　B。；　an　amateur；　the　mockery　of　whose　eyes　sometimes　penetrated　their　youthful　armour；　they　were　besides　too　interested　in　their　conversation　to　perceive　that　she　was　suffering。　The　skirmish　of　that　conversation　had　lasted　now　for　many　daysever　since　the　death　of　the　Hughs'　baby。

〃Well；〃　Martin　was　saying；　〃what　are　you　going　to　do？　　It's　no　good　to　base　it　on　the　baby；　you　must　know　your　own　mind　all　round。　　You　can't　go　rushing　into　real　work　on　mere　sentiment。〃

〃You　went　to　the　funeral；　Martin。　　It's　bosh　to　say　you　didn't　feel　it　too！〃

Martin　deigned　no　answer　to　this　insinuation。

〃We've　gone　past　the　need　for　sentiment；〃　he　said：　〃it's　exploded；　so　is　Justice；　administered　by　an　upper　class　with　a　patch　over　one　eye　and　a　squint　in　the　other。　　When　you　see　a　dying　donkey　in　a　field；　you　don't　want　to　refer　the　case　to　a　society；　as　your　dad　would；　you　don't　want　an　essay　of　Hilary's；　full　of　sympathy　with　everybody；　on　'Walking　in　a　field：　with　reflections　on　the　end　of　donkeys'you　want　to　put　a　bullet　in　the　donkey。〃

〃You're　always　down　on　Uncle　Hilary；〃　said　Thyme。

〃I　don't　mind　Hilary　himself；　I　object　to　his　type。〃

〃Well；　he　objects　to　yours；〃　said　Thyme。

〃I'm　not　so　sure　of　that；〃　said　Martin　slowly；　〃he　hasn't　got　character　enough。〃

Thyme　raised　her　chin；　and；　looking　at　him　through　half…closed　eyes；　said：　〃　Well；　I　do　think；　of　all　the　conceited　persons　I　ever　met　you're　the　worst。〃

Martin's　nostril　curled。

〃Are　you　prepared；〃　he　said；　〃to　put　a　bullet　in　the　donkey；　or　are　you　not？〃

〃I　only　see　one　donkey；　and　not　a　dying　one！〃

Martin　stretched　out　his　hand　and　gripped　her　arm　below　the　elbow。　Retaining　it　luxuriously；　he　said：　〃Don't　wander！〃

Thyme　tried　to　free　her　arm。　　〃Let　go！〃

Martin　was　looking　straight　into　her　eyes。　　A　flush　had　risen　in　his　cheeks。

Thyme；　too；　went　the　colour　of　the　old…rose　curtain　behind　which　she　sat。

〃Let　go！〃

〃I　won't！　　I'll　make　you　know　your　mind。　　What　do　you　mean　to　do？　Are　you　coming　in　a　fit　of　sentiment；　or　do　you　mean　business？〃

Suddenly；　half…hypnotised；　the　young　girl　ceased　to　struggle。　　Her　face　had　the　strangest　expression　of　submission　and　defiancea　sort　of　pain；　a　sort　of　delight。　　So　they　sat　full　half　a　minute　staring　at　each　other's　eyes。　　Hearing　a　rustling　sound；　they　looked；　and　saw　Bianca　moving　to　the　door。　　Cecilia；　too；　had　risen。

〃What　is　it；　B。？〃

Bianca；　opening　the　door；　went　out。　　Cecilia　followed　swiftly；　too　late　to　catch　even　a　glimpse　of　her　sister's　face　behind　the　veil。。。

In　Mr。　Stone's　room　the　green　lamp　burned　dimly；　and　he　who　worked　by　it　was　sitting　on　the　edge　of　his　campbed；　attired　in　his　old　brown　woollen　gown　and　slippers。

And　suddenly　it　seemed　to　him　that　he　was　not　alone。

〃I　have　finished　for　to…night；〃　he　said。　　〃I　am　waiting　for　the　moon　to　rise。　　She　is　nearly　full；　I　shall　see　her　face　from　here。〃

A　form　sat　down　by　him　on　the　bed；　and　a　voice　said　softly：

〃Like　a　woman's。〃

Mr。　Stone　saw　his　younger　daughter。　　〃You　have　your　hat　on。　　Are　you　going　out；　my　dear？〃

〃I　saw　your　light　as　I　came　in。〃

〃The　moon；〃　said　Mr。　Stone；　〃is　an　arid　desert。　　Love　is　unknown　there。〃

〃How　can　you　bear　to　look　at　her；　then？〃　　Bianca　whispered。

Mr。　Stone　raised　his　finger。　　〃She　has　risen。〃

The　wan　moon　had　slipped　out　into　the　darkness。　　Her　light　stole　across　the　garden　and　through　the　open　window　to　the　bed　where　they　were　sitting。

〃Where　there　is　no　love；　Dad；〃　Bianca　said；　〃there　can　be　no　life；　can　there？〃

Mr。　Stone's　eyes　seemed　to　drink　the　moonlight。

〃That；〃　he　said；　〃is　the　great　truth。　　The　bed　is　shaking！〃

With　her　arms　pressed　tight　across　her　breast；　Bianca　was　struggling　with　violent；　noiseless　sobbing。　　That　desperate　struggle　seemed　to　be　tearing　her　to　death　before　his　eyes；　and　Mr。　Stone　sat　silent；　trembling。　　He　knew　not　what　to　do。　　From　his　frosted　heart　years　of　Universal　Brotherhood　had　taken　all　knowledge　of　how　to　help　his　daughter。　　He　could　only　sit　touching　her　tremulously　with　thin　fingers。

The　form　beside　him；　whose　warmth　he　felt　against　his　arm；　grew　stiller；　as　though；　in　spite　of　its　own　loneliness；　his　helplessness　had　made　it　feel　that　he；　too；　was　lonely。　　It　pressed　a　little　closer　to　him。　　The　moonlight；　gaining　pale　mastery　over　the　flickering　lamp；　filled　the　whole　room。

Mr。　Stone　said：　〃I　want　her　mother！〃

The　form　beside　him　ceased　to　struggle。

Finding　out　an　old；　forgotten　way；　Mr。　Stone's　arm　slid　round　that　quivering　body。

〃I　do　not　know　what　to　say　to　her；〃　he　muttered；　and　slowly　he　began　to　rock　himself。

〃Motion；〃　he　said；　〃is　soothing。〃

The　moon　passed　on。　　The　form　beside　him　sat　so　still　that　Mr。　Stone　ceased　moving。　　His　daughter　was　no　longer　sobbing。　　Suddenly　her　lips　seared　his　forehead。

Trembling　from　that　desperate　caress；　he　raised　his　fingers　to　the　spot　and　looked　round。

She　was　gone。




CHAPTER　XXXIII

HILARY　DEALS　WITH　THE　SITUATION

To　understand　the　conduct　of　Hilary　and　Bianca　at　what　〃Westminister〃　would　have　called　this　〃crisax；〃　not　only　their　feelings　as　sentient　human　beings；　but　their　matrimonial　philosophy；　must　be　taken　into　account。　　By　education　and　environment　they　belonged　to　a　section　of　society　which　had　〃in　those　days〃　abandoned　the　more　old…fashioned　views　of　marriage。　　Such　as　composed　this　section；　finding　themselves　in　opposition；　not　only　to　the　orthodox　proprietary　creed；　but　even　to　their　own　legal　rights；　had　been　driven　to　an　attitude　of　almost　blatant　freedom。　　Like　all　folk　in　opposition；　they　were　bound；　as　a　simple　matter　of　principle；　to　disagree　with　those　in　power；　to　view　with　a　contemptuous　resentment　that　majority　which　said；　〃I　believe　the　thing　is　mine；　and　mine　it　shall　remain〃a　majority　which　by　force　of　numbers　made　this　creed　the　law。　　Unable　legally　to；　be　other　than　the　proprietors　of　wife　or　husband；　as　the　case　might　be；　they　were　obliged；　even　in　the　most　happy　unions；　to　be　very　careful　not　to　become　disgusted　with　their　own　position。　　Their　legal　status　was；　as　it　were；　a　goad；　spurring　them　on　to　show　their　horror　of　it。　They　were　like　children　sent　to　school　with　trousers　that　barely　reached　their　knees；　aware　that　they　could　neither　reduce　their　stature　to　the　proportions　of　their　breeches　nor　make　their　breeches　grow。　　They　were　furnishing　an　instance　of　that　immemorial　〃change　of　form　to　form〃　to　which　Mr。　Stone　had　given　the　name　of　Life。　　In　a　past　age　thinkers　and　dreamers　and　〃artistic　pigs〃　rejecting　the　forms　they　found；　had　given　unconscious　shape　to　this　marriage　law；　which；　after　they　had　become　the　wind；　had　formed　itself　out　of　their　exiled　pictures　and　thoughts　and　dreams。　　And　now　this　particular　law　in　turn　was　the　dried　rind；　devoid　of　pips　or　speculation；　and　the　thinkers　and　dreamers　and　〃artistic　pigs〃　were　again　rejecting　it；　and　again　themselves　in　exile。

This　exiled　faith；　this　honour　amongst　thieves；　animated　a　little　conversation　between　Hilary　and　Bianca　on　the　Tuesday　following　the　night　when　Mr。　Stone　sat　on　his　bed　to　watch　the　rising　moon。

Quietly　Bianca　said：　〃I　think　I　shall　be　going　away　for　a　time。〃

〃Wouldn't　you　rather　that　I　went　instead？〃　　〃You　are　wanted；　I　am　not。〃

That　ice…cold；　ice…clear　remark　contained　the　pith　of　the　whole　matter；　and　Hilary　said：

〃You　are　not　going　at　once？〃

〃At　the　end　of　the　week；　I　think。〃

Noting　his　eyes　fixed　on　her；　she　added：

〃Yes；　we're　neither　of　us　looking　quite　our　best。〃