the patrician-第11部分

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days　when　Barbara；　a　golden…haired　child；　astride　of　a　grey　pony；　had
been　his　morning　companion　in　the　Row　all　through　the　season。　　His
riding　days　were　past；　he　had　now　no　outdoor　pursuit　save　fishing；
which　he　followed　with　the　ironic　persistence　of　a　self…contained；
high…spirited　nature；　which　refuses　to　admit　that　the　mysterious
finger　of　old　age　is　laid　across　it。　　But　though　she　was　no　longer
his　companion；　he　still　had　a　habit　of　expecting　her　confidences；　and
he　looked　after　her；　moving　away　from　him　to　a　window；　with　surprised
concern。

It　was　one　of　those　nights；　dark　yet　gleaming；　when　there　seems　a
flying　malice　in　the　heavens；　when　the　stars；　from　under　and　above
the　black　clouds；　are　like　eyes　frowning　and　flashing　down　at　men
with　purposed　malevolence。　　The　great　sighing　trees　even　had　caught
this　spirit；　save　one；　a　dark；　spire…like　cypress；　planted　three
hundred　and　fifty　years　before；　whose　tall　form　incarnated　the　very
spirit　of　tradition；　and　neither　swayed　nor　soughed　like　the　others。
》From　her；　too　close…fibred；　too　resisting；　to　admit　the　breath　of
Nature；　only　a　dry　rustle　came。　　Still　almost　exotic；　in　spite　of　her
centuries　of　sojourn；　and　now　brought　to　life　by　the　eyes　of　night；
she　seemed　almost　terrifying；　in　her　narrow；　spear…like　austerity；　as
though　something　had　dried　and　died　within　her　soul。　　Barbara　came
back　from　the　window。

〃We　can't　do　anything　in　our　lives；　it　seems　to　me；〃　she　said；　〃but
play　at　taking　risks！〃

Lord　Dennis　replied　dryly：

〃I　don't　think　I　understand；　my　dear。〃

〃Look　at　Mr。　Courtier！〃　muttered　Barbara。　　〃His　life's　so　much　more
risky　altogether　than　any　of　our　men　folk　lead。　　And　yet　they　sneer
at　him。〃

〃Let's　see；　what　has　he　done？〃

〃Oh！　　I　dare　say　not　very　much；　but　it's　all　neck　or　nothing。　　But
what　does　anything　matter　to　Harbinger；　for　instance？　　If　his　Social
Reform　comes　to　nothing；　he'll　still　be　Harbinger；　with　fifty
thousand　a　year。〃

Lord　Dennis　looked　up　a　little　queerly。

〃What！　　Is　it　possible　you　don't　take　the　young　man　seriously；　Babs？〃

Barbara　shrugged；　a　strap　slipped　a　little　off　one　white　shoulder。

〃It's　all　play　really；　and　he　knows　ityou　can　tell　that　from　his
voice。　　He　can't　help　its　not　mattering；　of　course；　and　he　knows　that
too。〃

〃I　have　heard　that　he's　after　you；　Babs；　is　that　true？〃

〃He　hasn't　caught　me　yet。〃

〃Will　he？〃

Barbara's　answer　was　another　shrug；　and；　for　all　their　statuesque
beauty；　the　movement　of　her　shoulders　was　like　the　shrug　of　a　little
girl　in　her　pinafore。

〃And　this　Mr。　Courtier；〃　said　Lord　Dennis　dryly：　〃Are　you　after　him？〃

〃I'm　after　everything；　didn't　you　know　that；　dear？〃

〃In　reason；　my　child。〃

〃In　reason；　of　courselike　poor　Eusty！〃　　She　stopped。　　Harbinger
himself　was　standing　there　close　by；　with　an　air　as　nearly
approaching　reverence　as　was　ever　to　be　seen　on　him。　　In　truth；　the
way　in　which　he　was　looking　at　her　was　almost　timorous。

〃Will　you　sing　that　song　I　like　so　much；　Lady　Babs？〃

They　moved　away　together；　and　Lord　Dennis；　gazing　after　that
magnificent　young　couple；　stroked　his　beard　gravely。




CHAPTER　X

Miltoun's　sudden　journey　to　London　had　been　undertaken　in　pursuance
of　a　resolve　slowly　forming　from　the　moment　he　met　Mrs。　Noel　in　the
stone　flagged　passage　of　Burracombe　Farm。　　If　she　would　have　him　and
since　last　evening　he　believed　she　wouldhe　intended　to　marry　her。

It　has　been　said　that　except　for　one　lapse　his　life　had　been　austere；
but　this　is　not　to　assert　that　he　had　no　capacity　for　passion。　　The
contrary　was　the　case。　　That　flame　which　had　been　so　jealously
guarded　smouldered　deep　within　hima　smothered　fire　with　but　little
air　to　feed　on。　　The　moment　his　spirit　was　touched　by　the　spirit　of
this　woman；　it　had　flared　up。　　She　was　the　incarnation　of　all　that　he
desired。　　Her　hair；　her　eyes；　her　form；　the　tiny　tuck　or　dimple　at
the　corner　of　her　mouth　just　where　a　child　places　its　finger；　her　way
of　moving；　a　sort　of　unconscious　swaying　or　yielding　to　the　air；　the
tone　in　her　voice；　which　seemed　to　come　not　so　much　from　happiness　of
her　own　as　from　an　innate　wish　to　make　others　happy；　and　that
natural；　if　not　robust；　intelligence；　which　belongs　to　the　very
sympathetic；　and　is　rarely　found　in　women　of　great　ambitions　or
enthusiasmsall　these　things　had　twined　themselves　round　his　heart。
He　not　only　dreamed　of　her；　and　wanted　her；　he　believed　in　her。　　She
filled　his　thoughts　as　one　who　could　never　do　wrong；　as　one　who；
though　a　wife　would　remain　a　mistress；　and　though　a　mistress；　would
always　be　the　companion　of　his　spirit。

It　has　been　said　that　no　one　spoke　or　gossiped　about　women　in
Miltoun's　presence；　and　the　tale　of　her　divorce　was　present　to　his
mind　simply　in　the　form　of　a　conviction　that　she　was　an　injured
woman。　　After　his　interview　with　the　vicar；　he　had　only　once　again
alluded　to　it；　and　that　in　answer　to　the　speech　of　a　lady　staying　at
the　Court：　〃Oh！　yes；　I　remember　her　case　perfectly。　　She　was　the　poor
woman　who〃　　〃Did　not；　I　am　certain；　Lady　Bonington。〃　　　The　tone
of　his　voice　had　made　someone　laugh　uneasily；　the　subject　was
changed。

All　divorce　was　against　his　convictions；　but　in　a　blurred　way　he
admitted　that　there　were　cases　where　release　was　unavoidable。　　He　was
not　a　man　to　ask　for　confidences；　or　expect　them　to　be　given　him。　　He
himself　had　never　confided　his　spiritual　struggles　to　any　living
creature；　and　the　unspiritual　struggle　had　little　interest　for
Miltoun。　　He　was　ready　at　any　moment　to　stake　his　life　on　the
perfection　of　the　idol　he　had　set　up　within　his　soul；　as　simply　and
straightforwardly　as　he　would　have　placed　his　body　in　front　of　her　to
shield　her　from　harm。

The　same　fanaticism；　which　looked　on　his　passion　as　a　flower　by
itself；　entirely　apart　from　its　suitability　to　the　social　garden；　was
also　the　driving　force　which　sent　him　up　to　London　to　declare　his
intention　to　his　father　before　he　spoke　to　Mrs。　Noel。　　The　thing
should　be　done　simply；　and　in　right　order。　　For　he　had　the　kind　of
moral　courage　found　in　those　who　live　retired　within　the　shell　of
their　own　aspirations。　　Yet　it　was　not　perhaps　so　much　active　moral
courage　as　indifference　to　what　others　thought　or　did；　coming　from
his　inbred　resistance　to　the　appreciation　of　what　they　felt。

That　peculiar　smile　of　the　old　Tudor　Cardinalwhich　had　in　it
invincible　self…reliance；　and　a　sort　of　spiritual　sneerplayed　over
his　face　when　he　speculated　on　his　father's　reception　of　the　coming
news；　and　very　soon　he　ceased　to　think　of　it　at　all；　burying　himself
in　the　work　he　had　brought　with　him　for　the　journey。　　For　he　had　in
high　degree　the　faculty；　so　essential　to　public　life；　of　switching
off　his　whole　attention　from　one　subject　to　another。

On　arriving　at　Paddington　he　drove　straight　to　Valleys　House。

This　large　dwelling　with　its　pillared　portico；　seemed　to　wear　an　air
of　faint　surprise　that；　at　the　height　of　the　season；　it　was　not　more
inhabited。　　Three　servants　relieved　Miltoun　of　his　little　luggage；
and　having　washed；　and　learned　that　his　father　would　be　dining　in；　he
went　for　a　walk；　taking　his　way　towards　his　rooms　in　the　Temple。　　His
long　figure；　somewhat　carelessly　garbed；　attracted　the　usual
attention；　of　which　he　was　as　usual　unaware。　　Strolling　along；　he
meditated　deeply　on　a　London；　an　England；　different　from　this
flatulent　hurly…burly；　this　'omniuin　gatherum'；　this　great　discordant
symphony　of　sharps　and　flats。　　A　London；　an　England；　kempt　and　self…
respecting；　swept　and　garnished　of　slums；　and　plutocrats；
advertisement；　and　jerry…building；　of　sensationalism；　vulgarity；
vice；　and　unemployment。　　An　England　where　each　man　should　know　his
place；　and　never　change　it；　but　serve　in　it　loyally　in　his　own　caste。
Where　every　man；　from　nobleman　to　labourer；　should　be　an　oligarch　by
faith；　and　a　gentleman　by　practice。　　An　England　so　steel…bright　and
efficient　that　the　very　sight　should　suffice　to　impose　peace。　　An
England　whose　soul　should　be　stoical　and　fine　with　the　stoicism　and
fineness　of　each　soul　amongst　her　many　million　souls；　where　the　town
should　have　its　creed　and　the　country　its　creed；　and　there　should　be
contentment　and　no　complaining　in　her　streets。

And　as　he　walked　down　the　Strand；　a　little　ragged　boy　cheeped　out
between　his　legs：

〃Bloodee　discoveree　in　a　BankGrite　sensytion！　　Pi…er！〃

Miltoun　paid　no　heed　to　that　saying；　yet；　with　it；　the　wind　that
blows　where　man　lives；　the　careless；　wonderful；　unordered　wind；　had
dispersed　his　austere　and　formal　vision。　　Great　was　that　windthe
myriad　aspiration　of　men　and　women；　the　praying　of　the　uncounted
multitude　to　the　goddess　of　Sensationof　Chance；　and　Change。　　A
flowing　from　heart　to　heart；　from　lip　to　lip；　as　in　Spring　the
wistful　air　wanders　through　a　wood；　imparting　to　every　bush　and　tree
the　secrets　of　fresh　life；　the　passionate　resolve　to　grow；　and
becomeno　matter　what！　　A　sighing；　as　eternal　as　the　old　murmuring
of　the　sea；　as　little　to　be　hushed；　as　prone　to　swell　into　sudden
roaring！

Miltoun　held　on　through　the　traffic；　not　looking　overmuch　at　the
present　forms　of　the　thousands　he　passed；　but　seeing　with　the　eyes　of
faith　the　forms　he　desired　to　see。　　Near　St。　Paul's　he　stopped　in
front　of　an　old　book…shop。　　His　grave；　pallid；　not　unhandsome　face；
was　well…known　to　William　Rimall；　its　small　proprietor；　who　at　once
brought　out　his　latest　acquisitiona　Mores　'Utopia。'　That　particular
edition　（he　assured　Miltoun）　was　quite　unprocurablehe　had　never
sold　but　one　other　copy；　which　had　been　literally；　crumbling　away。
This　copy　was　in　even　better　condition。　　It　could　hardly　last　another
twenty　yearsa　genuine　book；　a　bargain。　　There　wasn't　so　much
movement　in　More　as　there　had　been　a　little　time　back。

Miltoun　opened　the　tome；　and　a　small　book…louse　who　had　been　sleeping
on　the　word　'Tranibore；'　began　to　make　its　way　slowly　towards　the
very　centre　of　the　volume。

〃I　see　it's　genuine；〃　said　Miltoun。

〃It's　not　to　read；　my　lord；〃　the　little　man　warned　him：　〃Hardly　safe
to　turn　the　pages。　　As　I　was　sayingI've　not　had　a　better　piece　this
year。　　I　haven't　really！〃

〃Shrewd　old　dreamer；〃　muttered　Miltoun；　〃the　Socialists　haven't　got
beyond　him；　even　now。〃

T