all roads lead to calvary-第40部分

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d　dust　and　cobwebs。

Mrs。　Denton　knew　just　the　right　people。　　They　might　be　induced　to　bring　their　sons　and　daughtersit　might　be　their　grandchildren；　youth　being　there　to　welcome　them。　　For　Joan；　of　course；　would　play　her　part。

The　lonely　woman　touched　her　lightly　on　the　hand。　　There　shot　a　pleading　look　from　the　old　stern　eyes。

〃You　will　have　to　imagine　yourself　my　daughter；〃　she　said。　　〃You　are　taller；　but　the　colouring　was　the　same。　　You　won't　mind；　will　you？〃

The　right　people　did　come：　　Mrs。　Denton　being　a　personage　that　a　landed　gentry；　rendered　jumpy　by　the　perpetual　explosion　of　new　ideas　under　their　very　feet；　and　casting　about　eagerly　for　friends；　could　not　afford　to　snub。　　A　kindly；　simple　folk；　quite　intelligent；　some　of　them；　as　Phillips　had　surmised。　　Mrs。　Denton　made　no　mystery　of　why　she　had　invited　them。　　Why　should　all　questions　be　left　to　the　politicians　and　the　journalists？　　Why　should　not　the　people　interested　take　a　hand；　meet　and　talk　over　these　little　matters　with　quiet　voices　and　attentive　ears；　amid　surroundings　where　the　unwritten　law　would　restrain　ladies　and　gentlemen　from　addressing　other　ladies　and　gentlemen　as　blood…　suckers　or　anarchists；　as　grinders　of　the　faces　of　the　poor　or　as　oily…tongued　rogues；　arguments　not　really　conducive　to　mutual　understanding　and　the　bridging　over　of　differences。　　The　latest　Russian　dancer；　the　last　new　musical　revue；　the　marvellous　things　that　can　happen　at　golf；　the　curious　hands　that　one　picks　up　at　bridge；　the　eternal　fox；　the　sacred　bird！　　Excellent　material　for　nine…tenths　of　our　conversation。　　But　the　remaining　tenth？　　Would　it　be　such　excruciatingly　bad　form　for　us　to　be　intelligent；　occasionally；　say；　on　one　or　two　Fridays　during　the　season？　　Mrs。　Denton　wrapped　it　up　tactfully；　but　that　was　her　daring　suggestion。

It　took　them　aback　at　first。　　There　were　people　who　did　this　sort　of　thing。　　People　of　no　class；　who　called　themselves　names　and　took　up　things。　　But　for　people　of　social　standing　to　talk　about　serious　subjectsexcept；　perhaps；　in　bed　to　one's　wife！　　It　sounded　so　un…　English。

With　the　elders　it　was　sense　of　duty　that　prevailed。　　That；　at　all　events；　was　English。　　The　country　must　be　saved。　　To　their　sons　and　daughters　it　was　the　originality；　the　novelty　that　gradually　appealed。　　Mrs。　Denton's　Fridays　became　a　new　sensation。　　It　came　to　be　the　chic　and　proper　thing　to　appear　at　them　in　shades　of　mauve　or　purple。　　A　pushing　little　woman　in　Hanover　Street　designed　the　〃Denton〃　bodice；　with　hanging　sleeves　and　square…cut　neck。　　The　younger　men　inclined　towards　a　coat　shaped　to　the　waist　with　a　roll　collar。

Joan　sighed。　　It　looked　as　if　the　word　had　been　passed　round　to　treat　the　whole　thing　as　a　joke。　　Mrs。　Denton　took　a　different　view。

〃Nothing　better　could　have　happened；〃　she　was　of　opinion。　　〃It　means　that　their　hearts　are　in　it。〃

The　stone　hall　was　still　vibrating　to　the　voices　of　the　last　departed　guests。　　Joan　was　seated　on　a　footstool　before　the　fire　in　front　of　Mrs。　Denton's　chair。

〃It's　the　thing　that　gives　me　greatest　hope；〃　she　continued。　　〃The　childishness　of　men　and　women。　　It　means　that　the　world　is　still　young；　still　teachable。〃

〃But　they're　so　slow　at　their　lessons；〃　grumbled　Joan。　　〃One　repeats　it　and　repeats　it；　and　then；　when　one　feels　that　surely　now　at　least　one　has　drummed　it　into　their　heads；　one　finds　they　have　forgotten　all　that　one　has　ever　said。〃

〃Not　always　forgotten；〃　answered　Mrs。　Denton；　〃mislaid；　it　may　be；　for　the　moment。　　An　Indian　student；　the　son　of　an　old　Rajah；　called　on　me　a　little　while　ago。　　He　was　going　back　to　organize　a　system　of　education　among　his　people。　　'My　father　heard　you　speak　when　you　were　over　in　India；'　he　told　me。　　'He　has　always　been　thinking　about　it。'　　Thirty　years　ago　it　must　have　been；　that　I　undertook　that　mission　to　India。　　I　had　always　looked　back　upon　it　as　one　of　my　many　failures。〃

〃But　why　leave　it　to　his　son；〃　argued　Joan。　　〃Why　couldn't　the　old　man　have　set　about　it　himself；　instead　of　wasting　thirty　precious　years？〃

〃I　should　have　preferred　it；　myself；〃　agreed　Mrs。　Denton。　　〃I　remember　when　I　was　a　very　little　girl　my　mother　longing　for　a　tree　upon　the　lawn　underneath　which　she　could　sit。　　I　found　an　acorn　and　planted　it　just　in　the　right　spot。　　I　thought　I　would　surprise　her。　I　happened　to　be　in　the　neighbourhood　last　summer；　and　I　walked　over。　　There　was　such　a　nice　old　lady　sitting　under　it；　knitting　stockings。　　So　you　see　it　wasn't　wasted。〃

〃I　wouldn't　mind　the　waiting；〃　answered　Joan；　〃if　it　were　not　for　the　sorrow　and　the　suffering　that　I　see　all　round　me。　　I　want　to　get　rid　of　it　right　away；　now。　　I　could　be　patient　for　myself；　but　not　for　others。〃

The　little　old　lady　straightened　herself。　　There　came　a　hardening　of　the　thin；　firm　mouth。

〃And　those　that　have　gone　before？〃　she　demanded。　　〃Those　that　have　won　the　ground　from　where　we　are　fighting。　　Had　they　no　need　of　patience？　　Was　the　cry　never　wrung　from　their　lips：　　'How　long；　oh　Lord；　how　long？'　　Is　it　for　us　to　lay　aside　the　sword　that　they　bequeath　us　because　we　cannot　hope　any　more　than　they　to　see　the　far…off　victory？　　Fifty　years　I　have　fought；　and　what；　a　few　years　hence；　will　my　closing　eyes　still　see　but　the　banners　of　the　foe　still　waving；　fresh　armies　pouring　to　his　standard？〃

She　flung　back　her　head　and　the　grim　mouth　broke　into　a　smile。

〃But　I've　won；〃　she　said。　　〃I'm　dying　further　forward。　　I've　helped　advance　the　line。〃

She　put　out　her　hands　and　drew　Joan　to　her。

〃Let　me　think　of　you；〃　she　said；　〃as　taking　my　place；　pushing　the　outposts　a　little　further　on。〃

Joan　did　not　meet　Hilda　again　till　the　child　had　grown　into　a　womanpractically　speaking。　　She　had　always　been　years　older　than　her　age。　　It　was　at　a　reception　given　in　the　Foreign　Office。　Joan's　dress　had　been　trodden　on　and　torn。　　She　had　struggled　out　of　the　crowd　into　an　empty　room；　and　was　examining　the　damage　somewhat　ruefully；　when　she　heard　a　voice　behind　her；　proffering　help。　　It　was　a　hard；　cold　voice；　that　yet　sounded　familiar；　and　she　turned。

There　was　no　forgetting　those　deep；　burning　eyes；　though　the　face　had　changed。　　The　thin　red　lips　still　remained　its　one　touch　of　colour；　but　the　unhealthy　whiteness　of　the　skin　had　given　place　to　a　delicate　pallor；　and　the　features　that　had　been　indistinct　had　shaped　themselves　in　fine；　firm　lines。　　It　was　a　beautiful；　arresting　face；　marred　only　by　the　sullen　callousness　of　the　dark；　clouded　eyes。

Joan　was　glad　of　the　assistance。　　Hilda　produced　pins。

〃I　always　come　prepared　to　these　scrimmages；〃　she　explained。　　〃I've　got　some　Hazeline　in　my　bag。　　They　haven't　kicked　you；　have　they？〃

〃No；〃　laughed　Joan。　　〃At　least；　I　don't　think　so。〃

〃They　do　sometimes；〃　answered　Hilda；　〃if　you　happen　to　be　in　the　way；　near　the　feeding　troughs。　　If　they'd　only　put　all　the　refreshments　into　one　room；　one　could　avoid　it。　　But　they　will　scatter　them　about　so　that　one　never　knows　for　certain　whether　one　is　in　the　danger　zone　or　not。　　I　hate　a　mob。〃

〃Why　do　you　come？〃　asked　Joan。

〃Oh；　I！〃　answered　the　girl。　　〃I　go　everywhere　where　there's　a　chance　of　picking　up　a　swell　husband。　　They've　got　to　come　to　these　shows；　they　can't　help　themselves。　　One　never　knows　what　incident　may　give　one　one's　opportunity。〃

Joan　shot　a　glance。　　The　girl　was　evidently　serious。

〃You　think　it　would　prove　a　useful　alliance？〃　she　suggested。

〃It　would　help；　undoubtedly；〃　the　girl　answered。　　〃I　don't　see　any　other　way　of　getting　hold　of　them。〃

Joan　seated　herself　on　one　of　the　chairs　ranged　round　the　walls；　and　drew　the　girl　down　beside　her。　　Through　the　closed　door；　the　mingled　voices　of　the　Foreign　Secretary's　guests　sounded　curiously　like　the　buzzing　of　flies。

〃It's　quite　easy；〃　said　Joan；　〃with　your　beauty。　　Especially　if　you're　not　going　to　be　particular。　　But　isn't　there　danger　of　your　devotion　to　your　father　leading　you　too　far？　　A　marriage　founded　on　a　lieno　matter　for　what　purpose！mustn't　it　degrade　a　woman　smirch　her　soul　for　all　time？　　We　have　a　right　to　give　up　the　things　that　belong　to　ourselves；　but　not　the　things　that　belong　to　God：　　our　truth；　our　sincerity；　our　cleanliness　of　mind　and　body；　the　things　that　He　may　one　day　want　of　us。　　It　led　you　into　evil　once　before。　　Don't　think　I'm　judging　you。　　I　was　no　better　than　you。　　I　argued　just　as　you　must　have　done。　　Something　stopped　me　just　in　time。　　That　was　the　only　difference　between　us。〃

The　girl　turned　her　dark　eyes　full　upon　Joan。　　〃What　did　stop　you？〃　she　demanded。

〃Does　it　matter　what　we　call　it？〃　answered　Joan。　　〃It　was　a　voice。〃

〃It　told　me　to　do　it；〃　answered　the　girl。

〃Did　no　other　voice　speak　to　you？〃　asked　Joan。

〃Yes；〃　answered　the　girl。　　〃The　voice　of　weakness。〃

There　came　a　fierce　anger　into　the　dark　eyes。　　〃Why　did　you　listen　to　it？〃　she　demanded。　　〃All　would　have　been　easy　if　you　hadn't。〃

〃You　mean；〃　answered　Joan　quietly；　〃that　if　I　had　let　your　mother　die　and　had　married　your　father；　that　he　and　I　would　have　loved　each　other　to　the　end；　that　I　should　have　helped　him　and　encouraged　him　in　all　things；　so　that　his　success　would　have　been　certain。　　Is　that　the　argument？〃

〃Didn't　you　love　him？〃　asked　the　girl；　staring。　　〃Wouldn't　you　have　helped　him？〃

〃I　can't　tell；〃　answered　Joan。　　〃I　should　have　meant　to。　　Many　men　and　women　have　loved；　and　have　meant　to　help　each　other　all　their　lives；　and　with　the　years　have　drifted　asunder；　coming　even　to　be　against　one　another。　　We　change　and　our　thoughts　change；　slight　differences　of　temperament　grow　into　barriers　between　us；　unguessed　antagonisms　widen　into　gulfs。　　Accidents　come　into　our　lives。　　A　friend　was　telling　me　the　other　day　of　a　woman　who　practically　proposed　to　and　married　a　musical　genius；　purely　and　solely　to　be　of　use　to　him。　　She　earned　quite　a　big　income；　drawing　fashions；　and　her　idea　was　to　relieve　him　of　the　necessity　of　doing　pot…　boilers　for　a　living；　so　that　he　might　devote　his　whole　time　to　his　real　work。　　And　a　few　weeks　after　they　were　married　she　ran　the　point　of　a　lead　pencil　through　her　eye　and　it　set　up　inflammation　of　her　brain。　　And　now　all　the　poor　fellow　has　to　think　of　is　how　to　make　enough　to　pay　for　her　keep　at　a　private　lunatic　asylum。　　I　don't　mean　to　be　flippant。　　It's　the　very　absurdi