To Let - John Galsworthy (13 inch ebook reader .txt) 📗
- Author: John Galsworthy
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Enmity, But Dead Things Were Poisonous Till Time Had Cleaned Them Away.
Even His Love Felt Tainted, Less Illusioned, More Of The Earth, And
With A Treacherous Lurking Doubt Lest Fleur, Like Her Father, Might
Want To Own; Not Articulate, Just A Stealing Haunt, Horribly Unworthy,
Which Crept In And About The Ardour Of His Memories, Touched With Its
Tarnishing Breath The Vividness And Grace Of That Charmed Face And
Figure--A Doubt, Not Real Enough To Convince Him Of Its Presence, Just
Real Enough To Deflower A Perfect Faith. And Perfect Faith, To Jon, Not
Yet Twenty, Was Essential. He Still Had Youth's Eagerness To Give With
Both Hands, To Take With Neither--To Give Lovingly To One Who Had His
Own Impulsive Generosity. Surely She Had! He Got Up From The
Window-Seat And Roamed In The Big Grey Ghostly Room, Whose Walls Were
Hung With Silvered Canvas. This House--His Father Said In That
Death-Bed Letter--Had Been Built For His Mother To Live In--With
Fleur's Father! He Put Out His Hand In The Half-Dark, As If To Grasp
The Shadowy Hand Of The Dead. He Clenched, Trying To Feel The Thin
Vanished Fingers Of His Father; To Squeeze Them, And Reassure Him That
He--He Was On His Father's Side. Tears, Prisoned Within Him, Made His
Eyes Feel Dry And Hot. He Went Back To The Window. It Was Warmer, Not
So Eerie, More Comforting Outside, Where The Moon Hung Golden, Three
Days Off Full; The Freedom Of The Night Was Comforting. If Only Fleur
And He Had Met On Some Desert Island Without A Past--And Nature For
Their House! Jon Had Still His High Regard For Desert Islands, Where
Breadfruit Grew, And The Water Was Blue Above The Coral. The Night Was
Deep, Was Free--There Was Enticement In It; A Lure, A Promise, A Refuge
From Entanglement, And Love! Milksop Tied To His Mother's--! His Cheeks
Burned. He Shut The Window, Drew Curtains Over It, Switched Off The
Lighted Sconce, And Went Up-Stairs.
Part III VI (Desperate) Pg 97The Door Of His Room Was Open, The Light Turned Up; His Mother, Still
In Her Evening Gown, Was Standing At The Window. She Turned, And Said:
"Sit Down, Jon; Let's Talk." She Sat Down On The Window-Seat, Jon On
His Bed. She Had Her Profile Turned To Him, And The Beauty And Grace Of
Her Figure, The Delicate Line Of The Brow, The Nose, The Neck, The
Strange And As It Were Remote Refinement Of Her, Moved Him. His Mother
Never Belonged To Her Surroundings. She Came Into Them From
Somewhere--As It Were! What Was She Going To Say To Him, Who Had In His
Heart Such Things To Say To Her?
"I Know Fleur Came To-Day. I'm Not Surprised." It Was As Though She Had
Added: "She Is Her Father's Daughter!" And Jon's Heart Hardened. Irene
Went On Quietly:
"I Have Father's Letter. I Picked It Up That Night And Kept It. Would
You Like It Back, Dear?"
Jon Shook His Head.
"I Had Read It, Of Course, Before He Gave It To You. It Didn't Quite Do
Justice To My Criminality."
"Mother!" Burst From Jon's Lips.
"He Put It Very Sweetly, But I Know That In Marrying Fleur's Father
Without Love I Did A Dreadful Thing. An Unhappy Marriage, Jon, Can Play
Such Havoc With Other Lives Besides One's Own. You Are Fearfully Young,
My Darling, And Fearfully Loving.
Part III VI (Desperate) Pg 98Do You Think You Can Possibly Be
Happy With This Girl?"
Staring At Her Dark Eyes, Darker Now From Pain, Jon Answered:
"Yes; Oh! Yes--If You Could Be."
Irene Smiled.
"Admiration Of Beauty, And Longing For Possession Are Not Love. If
Yours Were Another Case Like Mine, Jon--Where The Deepest Things Are
Stifld; The Flesh Joined, And The Spirit At War!"
"Why Should It, Mother? You Think She Must Be Like Her Father, But
She's Not. I've Seen Him."
Again The Smile Came On Irene's Lips, And In Jon Something Wavered;
There Was Such Irony And Experience In That Smile.
"You Are A Giver, Jon; She Is A Taker."
That Unworthy Doubt, That Haunting Uncertainty Again! He Said With
Vehemence:
"She Isn't--She Isn't. It's Only Because I Can't Bear To Make You
Unhappy, Mother, Now That Father--" He Thrust His Fists Against His
Forehead.
Irene Got Up.
"I Told You That Night, Dear, Not To Mind Me. I Meant It. Think Of
Yourself And Your Own Happiness! I Can Stand What's Left--I've Brought
It On Myself."
Part III VI (Desperate) Pg 99Again The Word: "Mother!" Burst From Jon's Lips.
She Came Over To Him And Put Her Hands Over His.
"Do You Feel Your Head, Darling?"
Jon Shook It. What He Felt Was In His Chest--A Sort Of Tearing Asunder
Of The Tissue There, By The Two Loves.
"I Shall Always Love You The Same, Jon, Whatever You Do. You Won't Lose
Anything." She Smoothed His Hair Gently, And Walked Away.
He Heard The Door Shut; And, Rolling Over On The Bed, Lay, Stifling His
Breath, With An Awful Held-Up Feeling Within Him.
Part III VII (Embassy) Pg 100
Enquiring For Her At Tea Time Soames Learned That Fleur Had Been Out In
The Car Since Two. Three Hours! Where Had She Gone? Up To London
Without A Word To Him? He Had Never Become Quite Reconciled With Cars.
He Had Embraced Them In Principle--Like The Born Empiricist, Or
Forsyte, That He Was--Adopting Each Symptom Of Progress As It Came
Along With: "Well, We Couldn't Do Without Them Now." But In Fact He
Found Them Tearing, Great, Smelly Things.
Part III VII (Embassy) Pg 101Obliged By Annette To Have
One--A Rollhard With Pearl-Grey Cushions, Electric Light, Little
Mirrors, Trays For The Ashes Of Cigarettes, Flower Vases--All Smelling
Of Petrol And Stephanotis--He Regarded It Much As He Used To Regard His
Brother-In-Law, Montague Dartie. The Thing Typified All That Was Fast,
Insecure, And Subcutaneously Oily In Modern Life. As Modern Life Became
Faster, Looser, Younger, Soames Was Becoming Older, Slower, Tighter,
More And More In Thought And Language Like His Father James Before Him.
He Was Almost Aware Of It Himself. Pace And Progress Pleased Him Less
And Less; There Was An Ostentation, Too, About A Car Which He
Considered Provocative In The Prevailing Mood Of Labour. On One
Occasion That Fellow Sims Had Driven Over The Only Vested Interest Of A
Working Man. Soames Had Not Forgotten The Behaviour Of Its Master, When
Not Many People Would Have Stopped To Put Up With It. He Had Been Sorry
For The Dog, And Quite Prepared To Take Its Part Against The Car, If
That Ruffian Hadn't Been So Outrageous. With Four Hours Fast Becoming
Five, And Still No Fleur, All The Old Car-Wise Feelings He Had
Experienced In Person And By Proxy Balled Within Him, And Sinking
Sensations Troubled The Pit Of His Stomach. At Seven He Telephoned To
Winifred By Trunk Call. No! Fleur Had Not Been To Green Street. Then
Where Was She? Visions Of His Beloved Daughter Rolled Up In Her Pretty
Frills, All Blood-And-Dust-Stained, In Some Hideous Catastrophe, Began
To Haunt Him. He Went To Her Room And Spied Among Her Things. She Had
Taken Nothing--No Dressing-Case, No Jewellery. And This, A Relief In
One Sense, Increased His Fears Of An Accident. Terrible To Be Helpless
When His Loved One Was Missing, Especially When He Couldn't Bear Fuss
Or Publicity Of Any Kind! What Should He Do, If She Were Not Back By
Nightfall?
At A Quarter To Eight He Heard The Car. A Great Weight Lifted From Off
His Heart; He Hurried Down. She Was Getting Out--Pale And
Tired-Looking, But Nothing Wrong. He Met Her In The Hall.
"You've Frightened Me. Where Have You Been?"
"To Robin Hill. I'm Sorry, Dear. I Had To Go; I'll Tell You
Afterwards." And, With A Flying Kiss, She Ran Up-Stairs.
Part III VII (Embassy) Pg 102Soames Waited In The Drawing-Room. To Robin Hill! What Did That Portend?
It Was Not A Subject They Could Discuss At Dinner--Consecrated To The
Susceptibilities Of The Butler. The Agony Of Nerves Soames Had Been
Through, The Relief He Felt At Her Safety, Softened His Power To
Condemn What She Had Done, Or Resist What She
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