fraternity-第7章

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　going　to　paint　her　again　in　another　picture。。。。

Hilary　did　not　reply。

〃。。。。That　old　gentleman；　Mr。Mr。　Stone；　had　been　to　see　her。　　He　wanted　her　to　come　and　copy　out　his　book　for　two　hours　a　day；　from　four　to　six；　at　a　shilling　an　hour。　　Ought　she　to　come；　please？　　He　said　his　book　would　take　him　years。〃

Before　answering　her　Hilary　stood　for　a　full　minute　staring　at　the　fire。　　The　little　model　stole　a　look　at　him。　　He　suddenly　turned　and　faced　her。　　His　glance　was　evidently　disconcerting　to　the　girl。　　It　was；　indeed；　a　critical　and　dubious　look；　such　as　he　might　have　bent　on　a　folio　of　doubtful　origin。

'Don't　you　think；〃　he　said　at　last；　〃that　it　would　be　much　better　for　you　to　go　back　into　the　country？〃

The　little　model　shook　her　head　vehemently。

〃Oh　no！〃

〃Well；　but　why　not？　　This　is　a　most　unsatisfactory　sort　of　life。〃

The　girl　stole　another　look　at　him；　then　said　sullenly：

〃I　can't　go　back　there。〃

〃What　is　it？　　Aren't　your　people　nice　to　you？〃

She　grew　red。

〃No；　and　I　don't　want　to　go〃；　then；　evidently　seeing　from　Hilary's　face　that　his　delicacy　forbade　his　questioning　her　further；　she　brightened　up；　and　murmured：　〃The　old　gentleman　said　it　would　make　me　independent。〃

〃Well；〃　replied　Hilary；　with　a　shrug；　〃you'd　better　take　his　offer。〃

She　kept　turning　her　face　back　as　she　went　down　the　path；　as　though　to　show　her　gratitude。　　And　presently；　looking　up　from　his　manuscript；　he　saw　her　face　still　at　the　railings；　peering　through　a　lilac　bush。　　Suddenly　she　skipped；　like　a　child　let　out　of　school。　Hilary　got　up；　perturbed。　　The　sight　of　that　skipping　was　like　the　rays　of　a　lantern　turned　on　the　dark　street　of　another　human　being's　life。　　It　revealed；　as　in　a　flash；　the　loneliness　of　this　child；　without　money　and　without　friends；　in　the　midst　of　this　great　town。

The　months　of　January；　February；　March　passed；　and　the　little　model　came　daily　to　copy　the　〃Book　of　Universal　Brotherhood。〃

Mr。　Stone's　room；　for　which　he　insisted　on　paying　rent；　was　never　entered　by　a　servant。　　It　was　on　the　ground…floor；　and　anyone　passing　the　door　between　the　hours　of　four　and　six　could　hear　him　dictating　slowly；　pausing　now　and　then　to　spell　a　word。　　In　these　two　hours　it　appeared　to　be　his　custom　to　read　out；　for　fair　copying；　the　labours　of　the　other　seven。

At　five　o'clock　there　was　invariably　a　sound　of　plates　and　cups；　and　out　of　it　the　little　model's　voice　would　rise；　matter…of…fact；　soft；　monotoned；　making　little　statements；　and　in　turn　Mr。　Stone's；　also　making　statements　which　clearly　lacked　cohesion　with　those　of　his　young　friend。　　On　one　occasion；　the　door　being　open；　Hilary　heard　distinctly　the　following　conversation：

The　LITTLE　MODEL：　〃Mr。　Creed　says　he　was　a　butler。　　He's　got　an　ugly　nose。〃　　（A　pause。）

Mr。　STONE：　〃In　those　days　men　were　absorbed　in　thinking　of　their　individualities。　　Their　occupations　seemed　to　them　important…〃

The　LITTLE　MODEL：　〃Mr。　Creed　says　his　savings　were　all　swallowed　up　by　illness。〃

Mr。　STONE：　〃…it　was　not　so。〃

The　LITTLE　MODEL：　〃Mr。　Creed　says　he　was　always　brought　up　to　go　to　church。〃

Mr。　STONE　（suddenly）：　〃There　has　been　no　church　worth　going　to　since　A。　D。　700。〃

The　LITTLE　MODEL：　〃But　he　doesn't　go。〃

And　with　a　flying　glance　through　the　just　open　door　Hilary　saw　her　holding　bread…and…butter　with　inky　fingers；　her　lips　a　little　parted；　expecting　the　next　bite；　and　her　eyes　fixed　curiously　on　Mr。　Stone；　whose　transparent　hand　held　a　teacup；　and　whose　eyes　were　immovably　fixed　on　distance。

It　was　one　day　in　April　that　Mr。　Stone；　heralded　by　the　scent　of　Harris　tweed　and　baked　potatoes　which　habitually　encircled　him；　appeared　at　five　o'clock　in　Hilary's　study　doorway。

〃She　has　not　come；〃　he　said。

Hilary　laid　down　his　pen。　　It　was　the　first　real　Spring　day。

〃Will　you　come　for　a　walk　with　me；　sir；　instead？〃　　he　asked。

〃Yes；〃　said　Mr。　Stone。

They　walked　out　into　Kensington　Gardens；　Hilary　with　his　head　rather　bent　towards　the　ground；　and　Mr。　Stone；　with　eyes　fixed　on　his　far　thoughts；　slightly　poking　forward　his　silver　beard。

In　their　favourite　firmaments　the　stars　of　crocuses　and　daffodils　were　shining。　　Almost　every　tree　had　its　pigeon　cooing；　every　bush　its　blackbird　in　full　song。　　And　on　the　paths　were　babies　in　perambulators。　　These　were　their　happy　hunting…grounds；　and　here　they　came　each　day　to　watch　from　a　safe　distance　the　little　dirty　girls　sitting　on　the　grass　nursing　little　dirty　boys；　to　listen　to　the　ceaseless　chatter　of　these　common　urchins；　and　learn　to　deal　with　the　great　problem　of　the　lowest　classes。　　And　babies　sat　in　their　perambulators；　thinking　and　sucking　india…rubber　tubes。　　Dogs　went　before　them；　and　nursemaids　followed　after。

The　spirit　of　colour　was　flying　in　the　distant　trees；　swathing　them　with　brownish…purple　haze；　the　sky　was　saffroned　by　dying　sunlight。　It　was　such　a　day　as　brings　a　longing　to　the　heart；　like　that　which　the　moon　brings　to　the　hearts　of　children。

Mr。　Stone　and　Hilary　sat　down　in　the　Broad　Walk。

'Elm…trees！〃　said　Mr。　Stone。　　〃It　is　not　known　when　they　assumed　their　present　shape。　　They　have　one　universal　soul。　　It　is　the　same　with　man。〃　　He　ceased；　and　Hilary　looked　round　uneasily。　　They　were　alone　on　the　bench。

Mr。　Stone's　voice　rose　again。　　〃Their　form　and　balance　is　their　single　soul；　they　have　preserved　it　from　century　to　century。　　This　is　all　they　live　for。　　In　those　days〃his　voice　sank；　he　had　plainly　forgotten　that　he　was　not　alone〃when　men　had　no　universal　conceptions；　they　would　have　done　well　to　look　at　the　trees。　　Instead　of　fostering　a　number　of　little　souls　on　the　pabulum　of　varying　theories　of　future　life；　they　should　have　been　concerned　to　improve　their　present　shapes；　and　thus　to　dignify　man's　single　soul〃

〃Elms　were　always　considered　dangerous　trees；　I　believe；〃　said　Hilary。

Mr。　Stone　turned；　and；　seeing　his　son…in…law　beside　him；　asked：

〃You　spoke　to　me；　I　think？〃

〃Yes；　sir。〃

Mr。　Stone　said　wistfully：

〃Shall　we　walk？〃

They　rose　from　the　bench　and　walked　on。。。。

The　explanation　of　the　little　model's　absence　was　thus　stated　by　herself　to　Hilary：　〃I　had　an　appointment。〃

〃More　work？〃

〃A　friend　of　Mr。　French。〃

〃Yeswho？〃

〃Mr。　Lennard。　　He's　a　sculptor；　he's　got　a　studio　in　Chelsea。　　He　wants　me　to　pose　to　him。〃

〃Ah！〃

She　stole　a　glance　at　Hilary；　and　hung　her　head。

Hilary　turned　to　the　window。　　〃You　know　what　posing　to　a　sculptor　means；　of　course？〃

The　little　model's　voice　sounded　behind　him；　matter…of…fact　as　ever：　〃He　said　I　was　just　the　figure　he　was　looking　for。〃

Hilary　continued　to　stare　through　the　window。　　〃I　thought　you　didn't　mean　to　begin　standing　for　the　nude。〃

〃I　don't　want　to　stay　poor　always。〃

Hilary　turned　round　at　the　strange　tone　of　these　unexpected　words。

The　girl　was　in　a　streak　of　sunlight；　her　pale　cheeks　flushed；　her　pale；　half…opened　lips　red；　her　eyes；　in　their　setting　of　short　black　lashes；　wide　and　mutinous；　her　young　round　bosom　heaving　as　if　she　had　been　running。

〃I　don't　want　to　go　on　copying　books　all　my　life。〃

〃Oh；　very　well。〃

〃Mr。　Dallison！　　I　didn't　mean　thatI　didn't　really！　　I　want　to　do　what　you　tell　me　to　doI　do！〃

Hilary　stood　contemplating　her　with　the　dubious；　critical　look；　as　though　asking：　〃What　is　there　behind　you？　　Are　you　really　a　genuine　edition；　or　what？〃　which　had　so　disconcerted　her　before。　　At　last　he　said：　〃You　must　do　just　as　you　like。　　I　never　advise　anybody。〃

〃But　you　don't　want　me　toI　know　you　don't。　　Of　course；　if　you　don't　want　me　to；　then　it'll　be　a　pleasure　not　to！〃

Hilary　smiled。

〃Don't　you　like　copying　for　Mr。　Stone？〃

The　little　model　made　a　face。　　〃I　like　Mr。　Stonehe's　such　a　funny　old　gentleman。〃

〃That　is　the　general　opinion；〃　answered　Hilary。　　〃But　Mr。　Stone；　you　know；　thinks　that　we　are　funny。〃

The　little　model　smiled　faintly；　too；　the　streak　of　sunlight　had　slanted　past　her；　and；　standing　there　behind　its　glamour　and　million　floating　specks　of　gold…dust；　she　looked　for　the　moment　like　the　young　Shade　of　Spring；　watching　with　expectancy　for　what　the　year　would　bring　her。

With　the　words　〃I　am　ready；〃　spoken　from　the　doorway；　Mr。　Stone　interrupted　further　colloquy。。。。

But　though　the　girl's　position　in　the　household　had；　to　all　seeming；　become　established；　now　and　then　some　little　incidentstraws　blowing　down　the　windshowed　feelings　at　work　beneath　the　family's　apparent　friendliness；　beneath　that　tentative　and　almost　apologetic　manner　towards　the　poor　or　helpless；　which　marks　out　those　who　own　what　Hilary　had　called　the　〃social　conscience。〃　　Only　three　days；　indeed；　before　he　sat　in　his　brown　study；　meditating　beneath　the　bust　of　Socrates；　Cecilia；　coming　to　lunch；　had　let　fall　this　remark：

〃Of　course；　I　know　nobody　can　read　his　handwriting；　but　I　can't　think　why　father　doesn't　dictate　to　a　typist；　instead　of　to　that　little　girl。　　She　could　go　twice　the　pace！〃

Blanca's　answer；　deferred　for　a　few　seconds；　was：

〃Hilary　perhaps　knows。〃

〃Do　you　dislike　her　coming　here？〃　　asked　Hilary。

〃Not　particularly。　　Why？〃

〃I　thought　from　your　tone　you　did。〃

〃I　don't　dislike　her　coming　here　for　that　purpose。〃

〃Does　she　come　for　any　other？〃

Cecilia；　dropping　her　quick　glance　to　her　fork；　said　just　a　little　hastily：　〃Father　is　extraordinary；　of　course。〃

But　the　next　three　days　Hilary　was　out　in　the　afternoon　when　the　little　model　came。

This；　then；　was　the　other　reason；　on　the　morning　of　the　first　of　May；　which　made　him　not　averse　to　go　and　visit　Mrs。　Hughs　in　Hound　Street；　Kensington。




CHAPTER　VI

FIRST　PILGRIMAGE　TO　HOUND　STREET

Hilary　and　his　little　bulldog　entered　Hound　Street　from　its　eastern　end。　　It　was　a　grey　street　of　three…storied　houses；　all　in　one　style　of　architecture。　　Nearly　all　their　doors　were　open；　and　on　the　doorsteps　babes　and　children　were　enjoying　Easter　holidays。　　They　sat　in　apathy；　varied　by　sudden　little　slaps　and　bursts　of　noise。　　Nearly　all　were　dirty；　some　had　whole　boots；　some　half　boots；　and　two　or　three　had　none。　　In　the　gutters　more　children　were　at　play；　their　shrill　tongues　and　febrile　movements　gave　Hilary　the　feeling　that　their　〃caste〃　exacted　of　them　a　profession　of　this　faith：　〃To…day　we　live；　to…morrowif　there　be　onewill　be　like　to…day。〃

He　had　unconsciously　chosen　the　very　centre　of　the　street　to　walk　in；　and　Miranda；　who　had　never　in　her　life　demeaned　herself　to　this　extent；　ran　at　his　heels；　turning　up　her　eyes；　as　though　to　say：　'One　thing　I　make　a　point　ofno　dog　must　speak　to　me！'

Fortunately；　there　were　no　dogs；　but　there　were　many　cats；　and　these　cats　were　thin。

Through　the　upper　windows　of　the　houses　Hilary　had　glimpses　of　women　in　poor　habiliments　doing　various　kinds　of　work；　but　stopping　now　and　then　to　gaze　into　the　street。　　He　walked　to　the　end；　where　a　wall　stopped　him；　and；　still　in　the　centre　of　the　road；　he　walked　the　whole　length　back。　　The　children　stared　at　his　tall　figure　with　indifference；　they　evidently　felt　that　he　was　not　of　those　who；　like　themselves；　had　no　to…morrow。

No。　1；　Hound　Street；　abutting　on　the　garden　of　a　house　of　better　class；　was　distinctly　the　show　building　of　the　street。　　The　door；　however；　was　not　closed；　and　pulling　the　remnant　of　a　bell；　Hilary　walked　in。

The　first　thing　that　he　noticed　was　a　sm