the dark flower-第37部分

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there；　a　straw　going　round　and　round；　a　midge　in　the　grip　of　a　mad
wind。　　Where　was　the　home　of　this　mighty　secret　feeling　that　sprang
so　suddenly　out　of　the　dark；　and　caught　you　by　the　throat？　　Why　did
it　come　now　and　not　then；　for　this　one　and　not　that　other？　　What
did　man　know　of　it；　save　that　it　made　him　spin　and　hoverlike　a
moth　intoxicated　by　a　light；　or　a　bee　by　some　dark　sweet　flower；
save　that　it　made　of　him　a　distraught；　humble；　eager　puppet　of　its
fancy？　　Had　it　not　once　already　driven　him　even　to　the　edge　of
death；　and　must　it　now　come　on　him　again　with　its　sweet　madness；
its　drugging　scent？　　What　was　it？　　Why　was　it？　　Why　these
passionate　obsessions　that　could　not　decently　be　satisfied？　　Had
civilization　so　outstripped　man　that　his　nature　was　cramped　into
shoes　too　smalllike　the　feet　of　a　Chinese　woman？　　What　was　it？
Why　was　it？

And　faster　than　ever　he　walked　away。

Pall　Mall　brought　him　back　to　that　counterfeit　presentment　of　the
realreality。　　There；　in　St。　James's　Street；　was　Johnny　Dromore's
Club；　and；　again　moved　by　impulse；　he　pushed　open　its　swing　door。
No　need　to　ask；　for　there　was　Dromore　in　the　hall；　on　his　way　from
dinner　to　the　card…room。　　The　glossy　tan　of　hard　exercise　and　good
living　lay　on　his　cheeks　as　thick　as　clouted　cream。　　His　eyes　had
the　peculiar　shine　of　superabundant　vigour；　a　certain　sub…festive
air　in　face　and　voice　and　movements　suggested　that　he　was　going　to
make　a　night　of　it。　　And　the　sardonic　thought　flashed　through
Lennan：　Shall　I　tell　him？

〃Hallo；　old　chap！　　Awfully　glad　to　see　you！　　What　you　doin'　with
yourself？　　Workin'　hard？　　How's　your　wife？　　You　been　away？　　Been
doin'　anything　great？〃　　And　then　the　question　that　would　have　given
him　his　chance；　if　he　had　liked　to　be　so　cruel：

〃Seen　Nell？〃

〃Yes；　she　came　round　this　afternoon。〃

〃What　d'you　think　of　her？　　Comin'　on　nicely；　isn't　she？〃

That　old　query；　half　furtive　and　half　proud；　as　much　as　to　say：　'I
know　she's　not　in　the　stud…book；　but；　dn　it；　I　sired　her！'　　And
then　the　old　sudden　gloom；　which　lasted　but　a　second；　and　gave　way
again　to　chaff。

Lennan　stayed　very　few　minutes。　　Never　had　he　felt　farther　from　his
old　school…chum。

No。　　Whatever　happened；　Johnny　Dromore　must　be　left　out。　　It　was　a
position　he　had　earned　with　his　goggling　eyes；　and　his　astute
philosophy；　from　it　he　should　not　be　disturbed。

He　passed　along　the　railings　of　the　Green　Park。　　On　the　cold　air　of
this　last　October　night　a　thin　haze　hung；　and　the　acrid　fragrance
from　little　bonfires　of　fallen　leaves。　　What　was　there　about　that
scent　of　burned…leaf　smoke　that　had　always　moved　him　so？　　Symbol　of
parting！that　most　mournful　thing　in　all　the　world。　　For　what
would　even　death　be；　but　for　parting？　　Sweet；　long　sleep；　or　new
adventure。　　But；　if　a　man　loved　othersto　leave　them；　or　be　left！
Ah！　and　it　was　not　death　only　that　brought　partings！

He　came　to　the　opening　of　the　street　where　Dromore　lived。　　She
would　be　there；　sitting　by　the　fire　in　the　big　chair；　playing　with
her　kitten；　thinking；　dreaming；　andalone！　　He　passed　on　at　such　a
pace　that　people　stared；　till；　turning　the　last　corner　for　home；　he
ran　almost　into　the　arms　of　Oliver　Dromore。

The　young　man　was　walking　with　unaccustomed　indecision；　his　fur
coat　open；　his　opera…hat　pushed　up　on　his　crisp　hair。　　Dark　under
the　eyes；　he　had　not　the　proper　gloss　of　a　Dromore　at　this　season
of　the　year。

〃Mr。　Lennan！　　I've　just　been　round　to　you。〃

And　Lennan　answered　dazedly：

〃Will　you　come　in；　or　shall　I　walk　your　way　a　bit？〃

〃I'd　ratherout　here；　if　you　don't　mind。〃

So　in　silence　they　went　back　into　the　Square。　　And　Oliver　said：

〃Let's　get　over　by　the　rails。〃

They　crossed　to　the　railings　of　the　Square's　dark　garden；　where
nobody　was　passing。　　And　with　every　step　Lennan's　humiliation　grew。
There　was　something　false　and　undignified　in　walking　with　this
young　man　who　had　once　treated　him　as　a　father　confessor　to　his
love　for　Nell。　　And　suddenly　he　perceived　that　they　had　made　a
complete　circuit　of　the　Square　garden　without　speaking　a　single
word。

〃Yes？〃　he　said。

Oliver　turned　his　face　away。

〃You　remember　what　I　told　you　in　the　summer。　　Well；　it's　worse　now。
I've　been　going　a　mucker　lately　in　all　sorts　of　ways　to　try　and　get
rid　of　it。　　But　it's　all　no　good。　　She's　got　me！〃

And　Lennan　thought：　You're　not　alone　in　that！　　But　he　kept　silence。
His　chief　dread　was　of　saying　something　that　he　would　remember
afterwards　as　the　words　of　Judas。

Then　Oliver　suddenly　burst　out：

〃Why　can't　she　care？　　I　suppose　I'm　nothing　much；　but　she's　known
me　all　her　life；　and　she　used　to　like　me。　　There's　somethingI
can't　make　out。　　Could　you　do　anything　for　me　with　her？〃

Lennan　pointed　across　the　street。

〃In　every　other　one　of　those　houses；　Oliver；〃　he　said；　〃there's
probably　some　creature　who　can't　make　out　why　another　creature
doesn't　care。　　Passion　comes　when　it　will；　goes　when　it　will；　and
we　poor　devils　have　no　say　in　it。〃

〃What　do　you　advise　me；　then？〃

Lennan　had　an　almost　overwhelming　impulse　to　turn　on　his　heel　and
leave　the　young　man　standing　there。　　But　he　forced　himself　to　look
at　his　face；　which　even　then　had　its　attractionperhaps　more　so
than　ever；　so　pallid　and　desperate　it　was。　　And　he　said　slowly；
staring　mentally　at　every　word：

〃I'm　not　up　to　giving　you　advice。　　The　only　thing　I　might　say　is：
One　does　not　press　oneself　where　one　isn't　wanted；　all　the　same
who　knows？　　So　long　as　she　feels　you're　there；　waiting；　she　might
turn　to　you　at　any　moment。　　The　more　chivalrous　you　are；　Oliver；
the　more　patiently　you　wait；　the　better　chance　you　have。〃

Oliver　took　those　words　of　little　comfort　without　flinching。　　〃I
see；〃　he　said。　　〃Thanks！　　But；　my　God！　it's　hard。　　I　never　could
wait。〃　　And　with　that　epigram　on　himself；　holding　out　his　hand；　he
turned　away。

Lennan　went　slowly　home；　trying　to　gauge　exactly　how　anyone　who
knew　all　would　judge　him。　　It　was　a　little　difficult　in　this　affair
to　keep　a　shred　of　dignity。

Sylvia　had　not　gone　up；　and　he　saw　her　looking　at　him　anxiously。
The　one　strange　comfort　in　all　this　was　that　his　feeling　for　her；
at　any　rate；　had　not　changed。　　It　seemed　even　to　have　deepenedto
be　more　real　to　him。

How　could　he　help　staying　awake　that　night？　　How　could　he　help
thinking；　then？　　And　long　time　he　lay；　staring　at　the　dark。

As　if　thinking　were　any　good　for　fever　in　the　veins！


X


Passion　never　plays　the　game。　　It；　at　all　events；　is　free　from
self…consciousness；　and　pride；　from　dignity；　nerves；　scruples；
cant；　moralities；　from　hypocrisies；　and　wisdom；　and　fears　for
pocket；　and　position　in　this　world　and　the　next。　　Well　did　the　old
painters　limn　it　as　an　arrow　or　a　wind！　　If　it　had　not　been　as
swift　and　darting；　Earth　must　long　ago　have　drifted　through　space
untenantedto　let。　。　。　。

After　that　fevered　night　Lennan　went　to　his　studio　at　the　usual
hour　and　naturally　did　not　do　a　stroke　of　work。　　He　was　even
obliged　to　send　away　his　model。　　The　fellow　had　been　his
hairdresser；　but；　getting　ill；　and　falling　on　dark　days；　one
morning　had　come　to　the　studio；　to　ask　with　manifest　shame　if　his
head　were　any　good。　　After　having　tested　his　capacity　for　standing
still；　and　giving　him　some　introductions；　Lennan　had　noted　him
down：　〃Five　feet　nine；　good　hair；　lean　face；　something　tortured　and
pathetic。　　Give　him　a　turn　if　possible。〃　　The　turn　had　come；　and
the　poor　man　was　posing　in　a　painful　attitude；　talking；　whenever
permitted；　of　the　way　things　had　treated　him；　and　the　delights　of
cutting　hair。　　This　morning　he　took　his　departure　with　the　simple
pleasure　of　one　fully　paid　for　services　not　rendered。

And　so；　walking　up　and　down；　up　and　down；　the　sculptor　waited　for
Nell's　knock。　　What　would　happen　now？　　Thinking　had　made　nothing
clear。　　Here　was　offered　what　every　warm…blooded　man　whose　Spring
is　past　desiresyouth　and　beauty；　and　in　that　youth　a　renewal　of
his　own；　what　all　men　save　hypocrites　and　Englishmen　would　even
admit　that　they　desired。　　And　it　was　offered　to　one　who　had　neither
religious　nor　moral　scruples；　as　they　are　commonly　understood。　　In
theory　he　could　accept。　　In　practice　he　did　not　as　yet　know　what　he
could　do。　　One　thing　only　he　had　discovered　during　the　night's
reflections：　That　those　who　scouted　belief　in　the　principle　of
Liberty　made　no　greater　mistake　than　to　suppose　that　Liberty　was
dangerous　because　it　made　a　man　a　libertine。　　To　those　with　any
decency；　the　creed　of　Freedom　wasof　allthe　most　enchaining。
Easy　enough　to　break　chains　imposed　by　others；　fling　his　cap　over
the　windmill；　and　cry　for　the　moment　at　least：　I　am　unfettered；
free！　　Hard；　indeed；　to　say　the　same　to　his　own　unfettered　Self！
Yes；　his　own　Self　was　in　the　judgment…seat；　by　his　own　verdict　and
decision　he　must　abide。　　And　though　he　ached　for　the　sight　of　her；
and　his　will　seemed　paralyzedmany　times　already　he　had　thought：
It　won't　do！　　God　help　me！

Then　twelve　o'clock　had　come；　and　she　had　not。　　Would　'The　Girl　on
the　Magpie　Horse'　be　all　he　would　see　of　her　to…daythat
unsatisfying　work；　so　cold；　and　devoid　of　witchery？　　Better　have
tried　to　paint　herwith　a　red　flower　in　her　hair；　a　pout　on　her
lips；　and　her　eyes　fey；　or　languorous。　　Goya　could　have　painted
her！

And　then；　just　as　he　had　given　her　up；　she　came。

After　taking　one　look　at　his　face；　she　slipped　in　ever　so　quietly；
like　a　very　good　child。　。　。　。　　Marvellous　the　instinct　and　finesse
of　the　young　when　they　are　women！　。　。　。　　Not　a　vestige　in　her　of
yesterday's　seductive　power；　not　a　sign　that　there　had　been　a
yesterday　at　alljust　confiding；　like　a　daughter。　　Sitting　there；
telling　him　about　Ireland；　showing　him　the　little　batch　of　drawings
she　had　done　while　she　was　away。　　Had　she　brought　them　because　she
knew　they　would　make　him　feel　sorry　for　her？　　What　could　have　been
less　dangerous；　more　appealing　to　the　protective　and　paternal　side
of　him　than　she　was　that　morning；　as　if　she　only　wanted　what　her
father　and　her　home　could　not　give　heronly　wanted　to　be　a　sort　of
daughter　to　him！

She　went　away　demurely；　as　she　had　come；　refusing　to　stay　to　lunch；
manifestly　avoiding　Sylvia。　　Only　then　he　realized　that　she　must
have　taken　alarm　from　the　look　of