fraternity- 第46部分

When　she　had　gone；　moving　languidly；　moodily　away；　her　eyes　darting　about　for　signs　of　Hilary；　Mr。　Stone　would　sit　down　rather　suddenly　and　fall　asleep；　to　dream；　perhaps；　of　YouthYouth　with　its　scent　of　sap；　its　close　beckonings；　Youth　with　its　hopes　and　fears；　Youth　that　hovers　round　us　so　long　after　it　is　dead！　　His　spirit　would　smile　behind　its　coveringthat　thin　china　of　his　face；　and；　as　dogs　hunting　in　their　sleep　work　their　feet；　so　he　worked　the　fingers　resting　on　his　woollen　knees。

The　seven　o'clock　alarum　woke　him　to　the　preparation　of　the　evening　meal。　　This　eaten；　he　began　once　more　to　pace　up　and　down；　to　pour　words　out　into　the　silence；　and　to　drive　his　squeaking　quill。

So　was　being　written　a　book　such　as　the　world　had　never　seen！

But　the　girl　who　came　so　moodily　to　bring　him　refreshment；　and　went　so　moodily　away；　never　in　these　days　caught　a　glimpse　of　that　which　she　was　seeking。

Since　the　morning　when　he　had　left　her　abruptly；　Hilary　had　made　a　point　of　being　out　in　the　afternoons　and　not　returning　till　past　six　o'clock。　　By　this　device　he　put　off　facing　her　and　himself；　for　he　could　no　longer　refuse　to　see　that　he　had　himself　to　face。　　In　the　few　minutes　of　utter　silence　when　the　girl　sat　beside　him；　magnetic；　quivering　with　awakening　force；　he　had　found　that　the　male　in　him　was　far　from　dead。　　It　was　no　longer　vague；　sensuous　feeling；　it　was　warm；　definite　desire。　　The　more　she　was　in　his　thoughts；　the　less　spiritual　his　feeling　for　this　girl　of　the　people　had　become。

In　those　days　he　seemed　much　changed　to　such　as　knew　him　well。　Instead　of　the　delicate；　detached；　slightly　humorous　suavity　which　he　had　accustomed　people　to　expect　from　him；　the　dry　kindliness　which　seemed　at　once　to　check　confidence　and　yet　to　say；　'If　you　choose　to　tell　me　anything；　I　should　never　think　of　passing　judgment　on　you；　whatever　you　have　done'instead　of　that　rather　abstracted；　faintly　quizzical　air；　his　manner　had　become　absorbed　and　gloomy。　　He　seemed　to　jib　away　from　his　friends。　　His　manner　at　the　〃Pen　and　Ink〃　was　wholly　unsatisfying　to　men　who　liked　to　talk。　　He　was　known　to　be　writing　a　new　book；　they　suspected　him　of　having　〃got　into　a　hat〃　this　Victorian　expression；　found　by　Mr。　Balladyce　in　some　chronicle　of　post…Thackerayan　manners；　and　revived　by　him　in　his　incomparable　way；　as　who　should　say；　'What　delicious　expressions　those　good　bourgeois　had！'　now　flourished　in　second　childhood。

In　truth；　Hilary's　difficulty　with　his　new　book　was　merely　the　one　of　not　being　able　to　work　at　it　at　all。　　Even　the　housemaid　who　〃did〃　his　study　noticed　that　day　after　day　she　was　confronted　by　Chapter　XXIV。；　in　spite　of　her　employer's　staying　in；　as　usual；　every　morning。

The　change　in　his　manner　and　face；　which　had　grown　strained　and　harassed；　had　been　noticed　by　Bianca；　though　she　would　have　died　sooner　than　admit　she　had　noticed　anything　about　him。　　It　was　one　of　those　periods　in　the　lives　of　households　like　an　hour　of　a　late　summer's　daybrooding；　electric；　as　yet　quiescent；　but　charged　with　the　currents　of　coming　storms。

Twice　only　in　those　weeks　while　Hughs　was　in　prison　did　Hilary　see　the　girl。　　Once　he　met　her　when　he　was　driving　home；　she　blushed　crimson　and　her　eyes　lighted　up。　　And　one　morning；　too；　he　passed　her　on　the　bench　where　they　had　sat　together。　　She　was　staring　straight　before　her；　the　corners　of　her　mouth　drooping　discontentedly。　　She　did　not　see　him。


To　a　man　like　Hilary…for　whom　running　after　women　had　been　about　the　last　occupation　in　the　world；　who　had；　in　fact；　always　fought　shy　of　them　and　imagined　that　they　would　always　fight　shy　of　himthere　was　an　unusual　enticement　and　dismay　in　the　feeling　that　a　young　girl　really　was　pursuing　him。　　It　was　at　once　too　good；　too　unlikely；　and　too　embarrassing　to　be　true。　　His　sudden　feeling　for　her　was　the　painful　sensation　of　one　who　sees　a　ripe　nectarine　hanging　within　reach。　　He　dreamed　continually　of　stretching　out　his　hand；　and　so　he　did　not　dare；　or　thought　he　did　not　dare；　to　pass　that　way。　　All　this　did　not　favour　the　tenor　of　a　studious；　introspective　life；　it　also　brought　a　sense　of　unreality　which　made　him　avoid　his　best　friends。　This；　partly；　was　why　Stephen　came　to　see　him　one　Sunday；　his　other　reason　for　the　visit　being　the　calculation　that　Hughs　would　be　released　on　the　following　Wednesday。

'This　girl；'　he　thought；　'is　going　to　the　house　still；　and　Hilary　will　let　things　drift　till　he　can't　stop　them；　and　there'll　be　a　real　mess。'

The　fact　of　the　man's　having　been　in　prison　gave　a　sinister　turn　to　an　affair　regarded　hitherto　as　merely　sordid　by　Stephen's　orderly　and　careful　mind。

Crossing　the　garden；　he　heard　Mr。　Stone's　voice　issuing　through　the　open　window。

'Can't　the　old　crank　stop　even　on　Sundays？'　he　thought。

He　found　Hilary　in　his　study；　reading　a　book　on　the　civilisation　of　the　Maccabees；　in　preparation　for　a　review。　　He　gave　Stephen　but　a　dubious　welcome。

Stephen　broke　ground　gently。

〃We　haven't　seen　you　for　an　age。　　I　hear　our　old　friend　at　it。　　Is　he　working　double　tides　to　finish　his　magnum　opus？　　I　thought　he　observed　the　day　of　rest。〃

〃He　does　as　a　rule；〃　said　Hilary。

〃Well；　he's　got　the　girl　there　now　dictating。〃

Hilary　winced。　　Stephen　continued　with　greater　circumspection　〃You　couldn't　get　the　old　boy　to　finish　by　Wednesday；　I　suppose？　　He　must　be　quite　near　the　end　by　now。〃

The　notion　of　Mr。　Stone's　finishing　his　book　by　Wednesday　procured　a　pale　smile　from　Hilary。

〃Could　you　get　your　Law　Courts；〃　he　said；　〃to　settle　up　the　affairs　of　mankind　for　good　and　all　by　Wednesday？〃

〃By　Jove！　Is　it　as　bad　as　that？　　I　thought；　at　any　rate；　he　must　be　meaning　to　finish　some　day。〃

〃When　men　are　brothers；〃　said　Hilary；　〃he　will　finish。〃

Stephen　whistled。

〃Look　here；　dear　boy！〃　he　said；　〃that　ruffian　comes　out　on　Wednesday。　The　whole　thing　will　begin　over　again。〃

Hilary　rose　and　paced　the　room。　　〃I　refuse；〃　he　said；　〃to　consider　Hughs　a　ruffian。　　What　do　we　know　about　him；　or　any　of　them？〃

〃Precisely！　　What　do　we　know　of　this　girl？〃

〃I　am　not　going　to　discuss　that；〃　Hilary　said　shortly。

For　a　moment　the　faces　of　the　two　brothers　wore　a　hard；　hostile　look；　as　though　the　deep　difference　between　their　characters　had　at　last　got　the　better　of　their　loyalty。　　They　both　seemed　to　recognise　this；　for　they　turned　their　heads　away。

〃I　just　wanted　to　remind　you；〃　Stephen　said；　〃though　you　know　your　own　business　best；　of　course。〃　　And　at　Hilary's　nod　he　thought：

'That's　just　exactly　what　he　doesn't！'

He　soon　left；　conscious　of　an　unwonted　awkwardness　in　his　brother's　presence。　　Hilary　watched　him　out　through　the　wicket　gate；　then　sat　down　on　the　solitary　garden　bench。

Stephen's　visit　had　merely　awakened　perverse　desires　in　him。　Strong　sunlight　was　falling　on　that　little　London　garden；　disclosing　its　native　shadowiness；　streaks；　and　smudges　such　as　Life　smears　over　the　faces　of　those　who　live　too　consciously。　　Hilary；　beneath　the　acacia…tree　not　yet　in　bloom；　marked　an　early　butterfly　flitting　over　the　geraniums　blossoming　round　an　old　sundial。　　Blackbirds　were　holding　evensong；　the　late　perfume　of　the　lilac　came　stealing　forth　into　air　faintly　smeeched　with　chimney　smoke。　　There　was　brightness；　but　no　glory；　in　that　little　garden；　scent；　but　no　strong　air　blown　across　golden　lakes　of　buttercups；　from　seas　of　springing　clover；　or　the　wind…silver　of　young　wheat；　music；　but　no　full　choir　of　sound；　no　hum。　　Like　the　face　and　figure　of　its　master；　so　was　this　little　garden；　whose　sundial　the　sun　seldom　reached…refined；　self…conscious；　introspective；　obviously　a　creature　of　the　town。　　At　that　moment；　however；　Hilary　was　not　looking　quite　himself；　his　face　was　flushed；　his　eyes　angry；　almost　as　if　he　had　been　a　man　of　action。

The　voice　of　Mr。　Stone　was　still　audible；　fitfully　quavering　out　into　the　air；　and　the　old　man　himself　could　now　and　then　be　seen　holding　up　his　manuscript；　his　profile　clear…cut　against　the　darkness　of　the　room。　　A　sentence　travelled　out　across　the　garden：

〃'Amidst　the　tur…bu…lent　dis…cov…eries　of　those　days；　which；　like　cross…currented　and　multibillowed　seas；　lapped　and　hollowed　every　rock　'〃

A　motor…car　dashing　past　drowned　the　rest；　and　when　the　voice　rose　again　it　was　evidently　dictating　another　paragraph。

〃'In　those　places；　in　those　streets；　the　shadows　swarmed；　whispering　and　droning　like　a　hive　of　dying　bees；　who；　their　honey　eaten；　wander　through　the　winter　day　seeking　flowers　that　are　frozen　and　dead。〃'

A　great　bee　which　had　been　busy　with　the　lilac　began　to　circle；　booming；　round　his　hair。　　Suddenly　Hilary　saw　Mr。　Stone　raise　both　his　arms。

〃'In　huge　congeries；　crowded；　devoid　of　light　and　air；　they　were　assembled；　these　bloodless　imprints　from　forms　of　higher　caste。　　They　lay；　like　the　reflection　of　leaves　which；　fluttering　free　in　the　sweet　winds；　let　fall　to　the　earth　wan　resemblances。　　Imponderous；　dark　ghosts；　wandering　ones　chained　to　the　ground；　they　had　no　hope　of　any　Lovely　City；　nor　knew　whence　they　had　come。　　Men　cast　them　on　the　pavements　and　marched　on。　　They　did　not　in　Universal　Brotherhood　clasp　their　shadows　to　sleep　within　their　heartsfor　the　sun　was　not　then　at　noon；　when　no　man　has　a　shadow。'〃

As　those　words　of　swan