man of property-第76章

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custodian　of　the　sense　of　property。

Good　forest　of　Forsytes！　thought　young　Jolyonsoundest　timber　of　our　land！

Concerning　the　cause　of　this　deathhis　family　would　doubtless　reject　with　vigour　the　suspicion　of　suicide；　which　was　so　compromising！　　They　would　take　it　as　an　accident；　a　stroke　of　fate。　　In　their　hearts　they　would　even　feel　it　an　intervention　of　Providence；　a　retributionhad　not　Bosinney　endangered　their　two　most　priceless　possessions；　the　pocket　and　the　hearth？　　And　they　would　talk　of　'that　unfortunate　accident　of　young　Bosinney's；'　but　perhaps　they　would　not　talksilence　might　be　better！

As　for　himself；　he　regarded　the　bus…driver's　account　of　the　accident　as　of　very　little　value。　　For　no　one　so　madly　in　love　committed　suicide　for　want　of　money；　nor　was　Bosinney　the　sort　of　fellow　to　set　much　store　by　a　financial　crisis。　　And　so　he　too　rejected　this　theory　of　suicide；　the　dead　man's　face　rose　too　clearly　before　him。　　Gone　in　the　heyday　of　his　summerand　to　believe　thus　that　an　accident　had　cut　Bosinney　off　in　the　full　sweep　of　his　passion　was　more　than　ever　pitiful　to　young　Jolyon。

Then　came　a　vision　of　Soames'　home　as　it　now　was；　and　must　be　hereafter。　　The　streak　of　lightning　had　flashed　its　clear　uncanny　gleam　on　bare　bones　with　grinning　spaces　between；　the　disguising　flesh　was　gone。。。。

In　the　dining…room　at　Stanhope　Gate　old　Jolyon　was　sitting　alone　when　his　son　came　in。　　He　looked　very　wan　in　his　great　armchair。　And　his　eyes　travelling　round　the　walls　with　their　pictures　of　still　life；　and　the　masterpiece　'Dutch　fishing…boats　at　Sunset'　seemed　as　though　passing　their　gaze　over　his　life　with　its　hopes；　its　gains；　its　achievements。

〃Ah！　Jo！〃　he　said；　〃is　that　you？　　I've　told　poor　little　June。　But　that's　not　all　of　it。　　Are　you　going　to　Soames'？　　She's　brought　it　on　herself；　I　suppose；　but　somehow　I　can't　bear　to　think　of　her；　shut　up　thereand　all　alone。〃　And　holding　up　his　thin；　veined　hand；　he　clenched　it。




CHAPTER　IX

IRENE'S　RETURN


After　leaving　James　and　old　Jolyon　in　the　mortuary　of　the　hospital；　Soames　hurried　aimlessly　along　the　streets。

The　tragic　event　of　Bosinney's　death　altered　the　complexion　of　everything。　　There　was　no　longer　the　same　feeling　that　to　lose　a　minute　would　be　fatal；　nor　would　he　now　risk　communicating　the　fact　of　his　wife's　flight　to　anyone　till　the　inquest　was　over。

That　morning　he　had　risen　early；　before　the　postman　came；　had　taken　the　first…post　letters　from　the　box　himself；　and；　though　there　had　been　none　from　Irene；　he　had　made　an　opportunity　of　telling　Bilson　that　her　mistress　was　at　the　sea；　he　would　probably；　he　said；　be　going　down　himself　from　Saturday　to　Monday。　This　had　given　him　time　to　breathe；　time　to　leave　no　stone　unturned　to　find　her。

But　now；　cut　off　from　taking　steps　by　Bosinney's　deaththat　strange　death；　to　think　of　which　was　like　putting　a　hot　iron　to　his　heart；　like　lifting　a　great　weight　from　ithe　did　not　know　how　to　pass　his　day；　and　he　wandered　here　and　there　through　the　streets；　looking　at　every　face　he　met；　devoured　by　a　hundred　anxieties。

And　as　he　wandered；　he　thought　of　him　who　had　finished　his　wandering；　his　prowling；　and　would　never　haunt　his　house　again。

Already　in　the　afternoon　he　passed　posters　announcing　the　identity　of　the　dead　man；　and　bought　the　papers　to　see　what　they　said。　　He　would　stop　their　mouths　if　he　could；　and　he　went　into　the　City；　and　was　closeted　with　Boulter　for　a　long　time。

On　his　way　home；　passing　the　steps　of　Jobson's　about　half　past　four；　he　met　George　Forsyte；　who　held　out　an　evening　paper　to　Soames；　saying：

〃Here！　Have　you　seen　this　about　the　poor　Buccaneer？〃

Soames　answered　stonily：　〃Yes。〃

George　stared　at　him。　　He　had　never　liked　Soames；　he　now　held　him　responsible　for　Bosinney's　death。　　Soames　had　done　for　himdone　for　him　by　that　act　of　property　that　had　sent　the　Buccaneer　to　run　amok　that　fatal　afternoon。

'The　poor　fellow；'　he　was　thinking；　'was　so　cracked　with　jealousy；　so　cracked　for　his　vengeance；　that　he　heard　nothing　of　the　omnibus　in　that　infernal　fog。'

Soames　had　done　for　him！　　And　this　judgment　was　in　George's　eyes。

〃They　talk　of　suicide　here；〃　he　said　at　last。　　〃That　cat　won't　jump。〃

Soames　shook　his　head。　　〃An　accident；〃　he　muttered。

Clenching　his　fist　on　the　paper；　George　crammed　it　into　his　pocket。　　He　could　not　resist　a　parting　shot。

〃H'mm！　　All　flourishing　at　home？　　Any　little　Soameses　yet？〃

With　a　face　as　white　as　the　steps　of　Jobson's；　and　a　lip　raised　as　if　snarling；　Soames　brushed　past　him　and　was　gone。。。。

On　reaching　home；　and　entering　the　little　lighted　hall　with　his　latchkey；　the　first　thing　that　caught　his　eye　was　his　wife's　gold…mounted　umbrella　lying　on　the　rug　chest。　　Flinging　off　his　fur　coat；　he　hurried　to　the　drawing…room。

The　curtains　were　drawn　for　the　night；　a　bright　fire　of　cedar…logs　burned　in　the　grate；　and　by　its　light　he　saw　Irene　sitting　in　her　usual　corner　on　the　sofa。　　He　shut　the　door　softly；　and　went　towards　her。　　She　did　not　move；　and　did　not　seem　to　see　him。

〃So　you've　come　back？〃　he　said。　　〃Why　are　you　sitting　here　in　the　dark？〃

Then　he　caught　sight　of　her　face；　so　white　and　motionless　that　it　seemed　as　though　the　blood　must　have　stopped　flowing　in　her　veins；　and　her　eyes；　that　looked　enormous；　like　the　great；　wide；　startled　brown　eyes　of　an　owl。

Huddled　in　her　grey　fur　against　the　sofa　cushions；　she　had　a　strange　resemblance　to　a　captive　owl；　bunched　fir　its　soft　feathers　against　the　wires　of　a　cage。　　The　supple　erectness　of　her　figure　was　gone；　as　though　she　had　been　broken　by　cruel　exercise；　as　though　there　were　no　longer　any　reason　for　being　beautiful；　and　supple；　and　erect。

〃So　you've　come　back；〃　he　repeated。

She　never　looked　up；　and　never　spoke；　the　firelight　playing　over　her　motionless　figure。

Suddenly　she　tried　to　rise；　but　he　prevented　her；　it　was　then　that　he　understood。

She　had　come　back　like　an　animal　wounded　to　death；　not　knowing　where　to　turn；　not　knowing　what　she　was　doing。　　The　sight　of　her　figure；　huddled　in　the　fur；　was　enough。

He　knew　then　for　certain　that　Bosinney　had　been　her　lover；　knew　that　she　had　seen　the　report　of　his　deathperhaps；　like　himself；　had　bought　a　paper　at　the　draughty　corner　of　a　street；　and　read　it。

She　had　come　back　then　of　her　own　accord；　to　the　cage　she　had　pined　to　be　free　ofand　taking　in　all　the　tremendous　significance　of　this；　he　longed　to　cry：　〃Take　your　hated　body；　that　I　love；　out　of　my　house！　　Take　away　that　pitiful　white　face；　so　cruel　and　softbefore　I　crush　it。　　Get　out　of　my　sight；　never　let　me　see　you　again！〃

And；　at　those　unspoken　words；　he　seemed　to　see　her　rise　and　move　away；　like　a　woman　in　a　terrible　dream；　from　which　she　was　fighting　to　awakerise　and　go　out　into　the　dark　and　cold；　without　a　thought　of　him；　without　so　much　as　the　knowledge　of　his　presence。

Then　he　cried；　contradicting　what　he　had　not　yet　spoken；　〃No；　stay　there！〃　And　turning　away　from　her；　he　sat　down　in　his　accustomed　chair　on　the　other　side　of　the　hearth。

They　sat　in　silence。

And　Soames　thought：　'Why　is　all　this？　　Why　should　I　suffer　so？　What　have　I　done？　　It　is　not　my　fault！'

Again　he　looked　at　her；　huddled　like　a　bird　that　is　shot　and　dying；　whose　poor　breast　you　see　panting　as　the　air　is　taken　from　it；　whose　poor　eyes　look　at　you　who　have　shot　it；　with　a　slow；　soft；　unseeing　look；　taking　farewell　of　all　that　is　goodof　the　sun；　and　the　air；　and　its　mate。

So　they　sat；　by　the　firelight；　in　the　silence；　one　on　each　side　of　the　hearth。

And　the　fume　of　the　burning　cedar　logs；　that　he　loved　so　well；　seemed　to　grip　Soames　by　the　throat　till　he　could　bear　it　no　longer。　　And　going　out　into　the　hall　he　flung　the　door　wide；　to　gulp　down　the　cold　air　that　came　in；　then　without　hat　or　overcoat　went　out　into　the　Square。

Along　the　garden　rails　a　half…starved　cat　came　rubbing　her　way　towards　him；　and　Soames　thought：　'Suffering！　　when　will　it　cease；　my　suffering？'

At　a　front　door　across　the　way　was　a　man　of　his　acquaintance　named　Rutter；　scraping　his　boots；　with　an　air　of　'I　am　master　here。'　And　Soames　walked　on。

》From　far　in　the　clear　air　the　bells　of　the　church　where　he　and　Irene　had　been　married　were　pealing　in　'practice'　for　the　advent　of