fraternity- 第42部分

〃I　forgive　him…for　his　song；〃　murmured　Hilary。

〃His　song；〃　said　Mr。　Stone；　〃is　alluring；　it　excites　the　sexual　instinct。〃

Then　to　himself　he　added：

〃She　has　not　come；　as　yet！〃

Even　as　he　spoke　there　was　heard　by　Hilary　a　faint　tapping　on　the　door。　　He　rose　and　opened　it。　　The　little　model　stood　outside。




CHAPTER　XXIX

RETURN　OF　THE　LITTLE　MODEL

That　same　afternoon　in　High　Street；　Kensington；　〃Westminister；〃　with　his　coat…collar　raised　against　the　inclement　wind；　his　old　hat　spotted　with　rain；　was　drawing　at　a　clay　pipe　and　fixing　his　iron…　rimmed　gaze　on　those　who　passed　him　by。　　It　had　been　a　day　when　singularly　few　as　yet　had　bought　from　him　his　faintly　green…tinged　journal；　and　the　low　class　of　fellow　who　sold　the　other　evening　prints　had　especially　exasperated　him。　　His　single　mind；　always　torn　to　some　extent　between　an　ingrained　loyalty　to　his　employers　and　those　politics　of　his　which　differed　from　his　paper's；　had　vented　itself　twice　since　coming　on　his　stand；　once　in　these　words　to　the　seller　of　〃Pell　Mells〃：　〃I　stupulated　with　you　not　to　come　beyond　the　lamp…post。　　Don't　you　never　speak　to　me　againa…crowdin'　of　me　off　my　stand〃；　and　once　to　the　younger　vendors　of　the　less　expensive　journals；　thus：　〃Oh；　you　boys！　　I'll　make　you　regret　of　it　a…snappin'　up　my　customers　under　my　very　nose！　　Wait　until　ye're　old！〃　　To　which　the　boys　had　answered：　〃All　right；　daddy；　don't　you　have　a　fit。　　You'll　be　a　deader　soon　enough　without　that；　y'know！〃

It　was　now　his　time　for　tea；　but　〃Pell　Mell〃　having　gone　to　partake　of　this　refreshment；　he　waited　on；　hoping　against　hope　to　get　a　customer　or　two　of　that　low　fellow's。　　And　while　in　black　insulation　he　stood　there　a　timid　voice　said　at　his　elbow

〃Mr。　Creed！〃

The　aged　butler　turned；　and　saw　the　little　model。

〃Oh；〃　he　said　dryly；　〃it's　you；　is　it？〃　　His　mind；　with　its　incessant　love　of　rank；　knowing　that　she　earned　her　living　as　a　handmaid　to　that　disorderly　establishment；　the　House　of　Art；　had　from　the　first　classed　her　as　lower　than　a　lady's…maid。　　Recent　events　had　made　him　think　of　her　unkindly。　　Her　new　clothes；　which　he　had　not　been　privileged　to　see　before；　while　giving　him　a　sense　of　Sunday；　deepened　his　moral　doubts。

〃And　where　are　you　living　now？〃　　he　said　in　tones　incorporating　these　feelings。

〃I'm　not　to　tell　you。〃

〃Oh；　very　well。　　Keep　yourself　to　yourself。〃

The　little　model's　lower　lip　drooped　more　than　ever。　　There　were　dark　marks　beneath　her　eyes；　her　face　was　altogether　rather　pinched　and　pitiful。

〃Won't　you　tell　me　any　news？〃　　she　said　in　her　matter…of…fact　voice。

The　old　butler　gave　a　strange　grunt。

〃Ho！〃　he　said。　　〃The　baby's　dead；　and　buried　to…morrer。〃

〃Dead！〃　repeated　the　little　model。

〃I'm　a…goin'　to　the　funeralBrompton　Cemetery。　　Half…past　nine　I　leave　the　door。　　And　that's　a…beginnin'　at　the　end。　　The　man's　in　prison；　and　the　woman's　gone　a　shadder　of　herself。〃

The　little　model　rubbed　her　hands　against　her　skirt。

〃What　did　he　go　to　prison　for？〃

〃For　assaultin'　of　her；　I　was　witness　to　his　battery。〃

〃Why　did　he　assault　her？〃

Creed　looked　at　her；　and；　wagging　his　head；　answered：

〃That's　best　known　to　them　as　caused　of　it。〃

The　little　model's　face　went　the　colour　of　carnations。

〃I　can't　help　what　he　does；〃　she　said。　　〃What　should　I　want　him　for　a　man　like　that？　　It　wouldn't　be　him　I'd　want！〃　　The　genuine　contempt　in　that　sharp　burst　of　anger　impressed　the　aged　butler。

〃I'm　not　a…sayin'　anything；〃　he　said；　〃it's　all　a…one　to　me。　　I　never　mixes　up　with　no　other　people's　business。　　But　it's　very　ill…　convenient。　　I　don't　get　my　proper　breakfast。　　That　poor　womanshe's　half　off　her　head。　　When　the　baby's　buried　I'll　have　to　go　and　look　out　for　another　room　before　he　gets　a…comin'　out。〃

〃I　hope　they'll　keep　him　there；〃　muttered　the　little　model　suddenly。

〃They　give　him　a　month；〃　said　Creed。

〃Only　a　month！〃

The　old　butler　looked　at　her。　　'There's　more　stuff'　in　you；'　he　seemed　to　say；　'than　ever　I　had　thought。'

'Because　of　his　servin'　of　his　country；〃　he　remarked　aloud。

〃I'm　sorry　about　the　poor　little　baby；〃　said　the　little　model　in　her　stolid　voice。

〃Westminister〃　shook　his　head。　　〃I　never　suspected　him　of　goin'　to　live；〃　he　said。

The　girl；　biting　the　finger…tip　of　her　white　cotton　glove；　was　staring　out　at　the　traffic。　　Like　a　pale　ray　of　light　entering　the　now　dim　cavern　of　the　old　man's　mind；　the　thought　came　to　Creed　that　he　did　not　quite　understand　her。　　He　had　in　his　time　had　occasion　to　class　many　young　persons；　and　the　feeling　that　he　did　not　quite　know　her　class　of　person　was　like　the　sensation　a　bat　might　have；　surprised　by　daylight。

Suddenly；　without　saying　good…bye　to　him；　she　walked　away。

'Well；'　he　thought；　looking　after　her；　'your　manners　ain't　improved　by　where　you're　living；　nor　your　appearance　neither；　for　all　your　new　clothes。'　　And　for　some　time　he　stood　thinking　of　the　stare　in　her　eyes　and　that　abrupt　departure。

Through　the　crystal　clearness　of　the　fundamental　flux　the　mind　could　see　at　that　same　moment　Bianca　leaving　her　front　gate。

Her　sensuous　exaltation；　her　tremulous　longing　after　harmony；　had　passed　away；　in　her　heart；　strangely　mingled；　were　these　two　thoughts：　'If　only　she　were　a　lady！'　and；　'I　am　glad　she　is　not　a　lady！'

Of　all　the　dark　and　tortuous　places　of　this　life；　the　human　heart　is　the　most　dark　and　tortuous；　and　of　all　human　hearts　none　are　less　clear；　more　intricate　than　the　hearts　of　all　that　class　of　people　among　whom　Bianca　had　her　being。　　Pride　was　a　simple　quality　when　joined　with　a　simple　view　of　life；　based　on　the　plain　philosophy　of　property；　pride　was　no　simple　quality　when　the　hundred　paralysing　doubts　and　aspirations　of　a　social　conscience　also　hedged　it　round。　In　thus　going　forth　with　the　full　intention　of　restoring　the　little　model　to　her　position　in　the　household；　her　pride　fought　against　her　pride；　and　her　woman's　sense　of　ownership　in　the　man　whom　she　had　married　wrestled　with　the　acquired　sentiments　of　freedom；　liberality；　equality；　good　taste。　　With　her　spirit　thus　confused；　and　her　mind　so　at　variance　with　itself；　she　was　really　acting　on　the　simple　instinct　of　compassion。

She　had　run　upstairs　from　Mr。　Stone's　room；　and　now　walked　fast；　lest　that　instinct；　the　most　physical；　perhaps；　of　allawakened　by　sights　and　sounds；　and　requiring　constant　nourishmentshould　lose　its　force。

Rapidly；　then；　she　made　her　way　to　the　grey　street　in　Bayswater　where　Cecilia　had　told　her　that　the　girl　now　lived。

The　tall；　gaunt　landlady　admitted　her。

〃Have　you　a　Miss　Barton　lodging　here？〃　　Bianca　asked。

〃Yes；〃　said　the　landlady；　〃but　I　think　she's　out。

She　looked　into　the　little　model's　room。

〃Yes；〃　she　said；　〃she's　out；　but　if　you'd　like　to　leave　a　note　you　could　write　in　here。　　If　you're　looking　for　a　model；　she　wants　work；　I　believe。〃

That　modern　faculty　of　pressing　on　an　aching　nerve　was　assuredly　not　lacking　to　Bianca。　　To　enter　the　girl's　room　was　jabbing　at　the　nerve　indeed。

She　looked　round　her。　　The　mental　vacuity　of　that　little　room！　　There　was　not　one　single　thingwith　the　exception　of　a　torn　copy　of　Tit…　Bitswhich　suggested　that　a　mind　of　any　sort　lived　there。　　For　all　that；　perhaps　because　of　that；　it　was　neat　enough。

〃Yes；〃　said　the　landlady；　〃she　keeps　her　room　tidy。　　Of　course；　she's　a　country　girlcomes　from　down　my　way。〃　　She　said　this　with　a　dry　twist　of　her　grim；　but　not　unkindly；　features。　　〃If　it　weren't　for　that；〃　she　went　on；　〃I　don't　think　I　should　care　to　let　to　one　of　her　profession。〃

Her　hungry　eyes；　gazing　at　Bianca；　had　in　them　the　aspirations　of　all　Nonconformity。

Bianca　pencilled　on　her　card：

〃If　you　can　come　to　my　father　to…day　or　tomorrow；　please　do。〃

〃Will　you　give　her　this；　please？　　It　will　be　quite　enough。〃

〃I'll　give　it　her；〃　the　landlady　said；　〃she'll　be　glad　of　it；　I　daresay。　　I　see　her　sitting　here。　　Girls　like　that；　if　they've　got　nothing　to　dosee；　she's　been　moping　on　her　bed。。。。〃

The　impress　of　a　form　was；　indeed；　clearly　visible　on　the　red　and　yellow　tasselled　tapestry　of　the　bed。

Bianca　cast　a　look　at　it。

〃Thank　you；〃　she　said；　〃good　day。〃

With　the　jabbed　nerve　aching　badly　she　came　slowly　homewards。

Before　the　garden　gate　the　little　model　herself　was　gazing　at　the　house；　as　if　she　had　been　there　some　time。　　Approaching　from　across　the　road；　Bianca　had　an　admirable　view　of　that　young　figure；　now　very　trim　and　neat；　yet　with　something　in　its　linesmore　supple；　perhaps；　but　less　refinedwhich　proclaimed　her　not　a　lady；　a　something　fundamentally　undisciplined　or　disciplined　by　the　material　facts　of　life　alone；　rather　than　by　a　secret　creed　of　voluntary　rules。　　It　showed　here　and　there　in　ways　women　alone　could　understand；　above　all；　in　the　way　her　eyes　looked　out　on　that　house　which　she　was　clearly　longing　to　enter。　　Not　'Shall　I　go　in？'　was　in　that　look；　but　'Dare　I　go　in？'

Suddenly　she　saw　Bianca。　　The　meeting　of　these　two　was　very　like　the　ordinary　meeting　of　a　mistress　and　her　maid。　　Bianca's　face　had　no　expression；　except　the　faint；　distant　curiosity　which　seems　to　say：　'You　are　a　sealed　book　to　me；　I　have　always　found　you　so。　　What　you　really　think　and　do　I　shall　never　know。'

The　little　model's　face　wore　a　h