malvina of brittany-第29章
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promised to come again and bring him a new picture…book； a little
grateful smile flickered across the drawn face； but he would not
talk。
I kept in touch with him。 Mere curiosity would have made me do
that。 He grew more normal as the years went by； and gradually the
fancy that had come to me at our first meeting faded farther into
the background。 Sometimes； using the very language of the dead
man's letter； I would talk to him； wondering if by any chance some
flash of memory would come back to him； and once or twice it seemed
to me that into the mild； pathetic eyes there came a look that I had
seen before； but it passed away； and indeed； it was difficult to
think of this sad little human oddity； with its pleading
helplessness； in connection with the strong； swift； conquering
spirit that I had watched passing away amid the silence of the
mountains。
The one thing that brought joy to him was his art。 I cannot help
thinking that； but for his health； he would have made a name for
himself。 His work was always clever and original； but it was the
work of an invalid。
〃I shall never be great；〃 he said to me once。 〃I have such
wonderful dreams； but when it comes to working them out there is
something that hampers me。 It always seems to me as if at the last
moment a hand was stretched out that clutched me by the feet。 I
long so； but I have not the strength。 It is terrible to be one of
the weaklings。〃
It clung to me； that word he had used。 For a man to know he is
weak； it sounds a paradox； but a man must be strong to know that。
And dwelling upon this； and upon his patience and his gentleness；
there came to me suddenly remembrance of that postscript； the
significance of which I had not understood。
He was a young man of about three… or four…and…twenty at the time。
His father had died； and he was living in poor lodgings in the south
of London； supporting himself and his mother by strenuous； ill…paid
work。
〃I want you to come with me for a few days' holiday；〃 I told him。
I had some difficulty in getting him to accept my help； for he was
very proud in his sensitive； apologetic way。 But I succeeded
eventually； persuading him it would be good for his work。
Physically the journey must have cost him dear； for he could never
move his body without pain； but the changing landscapes and the
strange cities more than repaid him； and when one morning I woke him
early and he saw for the first time the distant mountains clothed in
dawn； there came a new light into his eyes。
We reached the hut late in the afternoon。 I had made my
arrangements so that we should be there alone。 Our needs were
simple； and in various wanderings I had learnt to be independent。 I
did not tell him why I had brought him there； beyond the beauty and
stillness of the place。 Purposely I left him much alone there；
making ever…lengthening walks my excuse； and though he was always
glad of my return I felt that the desire was growing upon him to be
there by himself。
One evening； having climbed farther than I had intended； I lost my
way。 It was not safe in that neighbourhood to try new pathways in
the dark； and chancing upon a deserted shelter； I made myself a bed
upon the straw。
I found him seated outside the hut when I returned； and he greeted
me as if he had been expecting me just at that moment and not
before。 He guessed just what had happened； he told me； and had not
been alarmed。 During the day I found him watching me； and in the
evening； as we sat in his favourite place outside the hut； he turned
to me。
〃You think it true？〃 he said。 〃That you and I sat here years ago
and talked？〃
〃I cannot tell；〃 I answered。 〃I only know that he died here； if
there be such a thing as deaththat no one has ever lived here
since。 I doubt if the door has ever been opened till we came。〃
〃They have always been with me；〃 he continued； 〃these dreams。 But I
have always dismissed them。 They seemed so ludicrous。 Always there
came to me wealth； power； victory。 Life was so easy。〃
He laid his thin hand on mine。 A strange new look came into his
eyesa look of hope； almost of joy。
〃Do you know what it seems to me？〃 he said。 〃You will laugh
perhaps； but the thought has come to me up here that God has some
fine use for me。 Success was making me feeble。 He has given me
weakness and failure that I may learn strength。 The great thing is
to be strong。〃
SYLVIA OF THE LETTERS。
Old Ab Herrick； so most people called him。 Not that he was actually
old； the term was an expression of liking rather than any reflection
on his years。 He lived in an old…fashioned houseold…fashioned；
that is； for New Yorkon the south side of West Twentieth Street：
once upon a time； but that was long ago； quite a fashionable
quarter。 The house； together with Mrs。 Travers； had been left him
by a maiden aunt。 An 〃apartment〃 would； of course； have been more
suitable to a bachelor of simple habits； but the situation was
convenient from a journalistic point of view； and for fifteen years
Abner Herrick had lived and worked there。
Then one evening； after a three days' absence； Abner Herrick
returned to West Twentieth Street； bringing with him a little girl
wrapped up in a shawl； and a wooden box tied with a piece of cord。
He put the box on the table； and the young lady； loosening her
shawl； walked to the window and sat down facing the room。
Mrs。 Travers took the box off the table and put it on the floorit
was quite a little boxand waited。
〃This young lady；〃 explained Abner Herrick； 〃is Miss Ann Kavanagh；
daughter ofof an old friend of mine。〃
〃Oh！〃 said Mrs。 Travers； and remained still expectant。
〃Miss Kavanagh；〃 continued Abner Herrick； 〃will be staying with us
for〃 He appeared to be uncertain of the length of Miss Kavanagh's
visit。 He left the sentence unfinished and took refuge in more
pressing questions。
〃What about the bedroom on the second floor？ Is it ready？ Sheets
airedall that sort of thing？〃
〃It can be；〃 replied Mrs。 Travers。 The tone was suggestive of
judgment reserved。
〃I think； if you don't mind； Mrs。 Travers； that we'd like to go to
bed as soon as possible。〃 From force of habit Abner S。 Herrick in
speaking employed as a rule the editorial 〃we。〃 〃We have been
travelling all day and we are very tired。 To…morrow morning〃
〃I'd like some supper；〃 said Miss Kavanagh from her seat in the
window； without moving。
〃Of course；〃 agreed Miss Kavanagh's host； with a feeble pretence
that the subject had been on the tip of his tongue。 As a matter of
fact； he really had forgotten all about it。 〃We might have it up
here while the room is being got ready。 Perhaps a little〃
〃A soft boiled egg and a glass of milk； if you please； Mrs。
Travers；〃 interrupted Miss Kavanagh； still from her seat at the
window。
〃I'll see about it；〃 said Mrs。 Travers； and went out； taking the
quite small box with her。
Such was the coming into this story of Ann Kavanagh at the age of
eight years； or； as Miss Kavanagh herself would have explained； had
the question been put to her； eight years and seven months； for Ann
Kavanagh was a precise young lady。 She was not beautifulnot then。
She was much too sharp featured； the little pointed chin protruding
into space to quite a dangerous extent。 Her large dark eyes were
her one redeeming feature。 But the level brows above them were much
too ready with their frown。 A sallow complexion and nondescript
hair deprived her of that charm of colouring on which youth can
generally depend for attraction； whatever its faults of form。 Nor
could it truthfully be said that sweetness of disposition afforded
compensation。
〃A self…willed； cantankerous little imp I call her；〃 was Mrs。
Travers's comment； expressed after one of the many trials of
strength between them； from which Miss Kavanagh had as usual emerged
triumphant。
〃It's her father；〃 explained Abner Herrick； feeling himself unable
to contradict。
〃It's unfortunate；〃 answered Mrs。 Travers； 〃whatever it is。〃
To Uncle Ab himself； as she had come to call him； she could on
occasion be yielding and affectionate； but that； as Mrs。 Travers
took care to point out
