all roads lead to calvary-第22章

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He　had　a　sweet；　almost　girlish　face；　with　delicate　skin　that　the　Egyptian　sun　had　deepened　into　ruddiness；　with　soft；　dreamy　eyes　and　golden　hair。　　He　looked　lithe　and　agile　rather　than　strong。　　He　was　shy　at　first；　but　once　set　going；　talked　freely；　and　was　interesting。

His　work　had　taken　him　into　the　Desert；　far　from　the　beaten　tracks。　He　described　the　life　of　the　people；　very　little　different　from　what　it　must　have　been　in　Noah's　time。　　For　months　he　had　been　the　only　white　man　there；　and　had　lived　among　them。　　What　had　struck　him　was　how　little　he　had　missed　all　the　paraphernalia　of　civilization；　once　he　had　got　over　the　first　shock。　　He　had　learnt　their　sports　and　games；　wrestled　and　swum　and　hunted　with　them。　Provided　one　was　a　little　hungry　and　tired　with　toil；　a　stew　of　goat's　flesh　with　sweet　cakes　and　fruits；　washed　down　with　wine　out　of　a　sheep's　skin；　made　a　feast；　and　after；　there　was　music　and　singing　and　dancing；　or　the　travelling　story…teller　would　gather　round　him　his　rapt　audience。　　Paris　had　only　robbed　women　of　their　grace　and　dignity。　　He　preferred　the　young　girls　in　their　costume　of　the　fourteenth　dynasty。　　Progress；　he　thought；　had　tended　only　to　complicate　life　and　render　it　less　enjoyable。　　All　the　essentials　of　happinesslove；　courtship；　marriage；　the　home；　children；　friendship；　social　intercourse；　and　play；　were　independent　of　it；　had　always　been　there　for　the　asking。

Joan　thought　his　mistake　lay　in　regarding　man's　happiness　as　more　important　to　him　than　his　self…development。　　It　was　not　what　we　got　out　of　civilization　but　what　we　put　into　it　that　was　our　gain。　　Its　luxuries　and　ostentations　were；　in　themselves；　perhaps　bad　for　us。　But　the　pursuit　of　them　was　good。　　It　called　forth　thought　and　effort；　sharpened　our　wits；　strengthened　our　brains。　　Primitive　man；　content　with　his　necessities；　would　never　have　produced　genius。　　Art；　literature；　science　would　have　been　stillborn。

He　hesitated　before　replying；　glancing　at　her　furtively　while　crumbling　his　bread。　　When　he　did；　it　was　in　the　tone　that　one　of　her　younger　disciples　might　have　ventured　into　a　discussion　with　Hypatia。　　But　he　stuck　to　his　guns。

How　did　she　account　for　David　and　Solomon；　Moses　and　the　Prophets？　They　had　sprung　from　a　shepherd　race。　　Yet　surely　there　was　genius；　literature。　　Greece　owed　nothing　to　progress。　　She　had　preceded　it。　Her　thinkers；　her　poets；　her　scientists　had　draws　their　inspiration　from　nature；　not　civilization。　　Her　art　had　sprung　full　grown　out　of　the　soil。　　We　had　never　surpassed　it。

〃But　the　Greek　ideal　could　not　have　been　the　right　one；　or　Greece　would　not　so　utterly　have　disappeared；〃　suggested　Mr。　Allway。　〃Unless　you　reject　the　law　of　the　survival　of　the　fittest。〃

He　had　no　qualms　about　arguing　with　his　uncle。

〃So　did　Archimedes　disappear；〃　he　answered　with　a　smile。　　〃The　nameless　Roman　soldier　remained。　　That　was　hardly　the　survival　of　the　fittest。〃

He　thought　it　the　tragedy　of　the　world　that　Rome　had　conquered　Greece；　imposing　her　lower　ideals　upon　the　race。　　Rome　should　have　been　the　servant　of　Greece：　　the　hands　directed　by　the　brain。　　She　would　have　made　roads　and　harbours；　conducted　the　traffic；　reared　the　market　place。　　She　knew　of　the　steam　engine；　employed　it　for　pumping　water　in　the　age　of　the　Antonines。　　Sooner　or　later；　she　would　have　placed　it　on　rails；　and　in　ships。　　Rome　should　have　been　the　policeman；　keeping　the　world　in　order；　making　it　a　fit　habitation。　　Her　mistake　was　in　regarding　these　things　as　an　end　in　themselves；　dreaming　of　nothing　beyond。　　From　her　we　had　inherited　the　fallacy　that　man　was　made　for　the　world；　not　the　world　for　man。　Rome　organized　only　for　man's　body。　　Greece　would　have　legislated　for　his　soul。

They　went　into　the　drawing…room。　　Her　father　asked　her　to　sing　and　Arthur　opened　the　piano　for　her　and　lit　the　candles。　　She　chose　some　ballads　and　a　song　of　Herrick's；　playing　her　own　accompaniment　while　Arthur　turned　the　leaves。　　She　had　a　good　voice；　a　low　contralto。　　The　room　was　high　and　dimly　lighted。　　It　looked　larger　than　it　really　was。　　Her　father　sat　in　his　usual　chair　beside　the　fire　and　listened　with　half…closed　eyes。　　Glancing　now　and　then　across　at　him；　she　was　reminded　of　Orchardson's　picture。　　She　was　feeling　sentimental；　a　novel　sensation　to　her。　　She　rather　enjoyed　it。

She　finished　with　one　of　Burns's　lyrics；　and　then　told　Arthur　that　it　was　now　his　turn；　and　that　she　would　play　for　him。　　He　shook　his　head；　pleading　that　he　was　out　of　practice。

〃I　wish　it；〃　she　said；　speaking　low。　　And　it　pleased　her　that　he　made　no　answer　but　to　ask　her　what　he　should　sing。　　He　had　a　light　tenor　voice。　　It　was　wobbly　at　first；　but　improved　as　he　went　on。　They　ended　with　a　duet。

The　next　morning　she　went　into　town　with　them。　　She　never　seemed　to　have　any　time　in　London；　and　wanted　to　do　some　shopping。　　They　joined　her　again　for　lunch　and　afterwards；　at　her　father's　suggestion；　she　and　Arthur　went　for　a　walk。　　They　took　the　tram　out　of　the　city　and　struck　into　the　country。　　The　leaves　still　lingered　brown　and　red　upon　the　trees。　　He　carried　her　cloak　and　opened　gates　for　her　and　held　back　brambles　while　she　passed。　　She　had　always　been　indifferent　to　these　small　gallantries；　but　to…day　she　welcomed　them。　　She　wished　to　feel　her　power　to　attract　and　command。　　They　avoided　all　subjects　on　which　they　could　differ；　even　in　words。　　They　talked　of　people　and　places　they　had　known　together。　　They　remembered　their　common　love　of　animals　and　told　of　the　comedies　and　tragedies　that　had　befallen　their　pets。　　Joan's　regret　was　that　she　had　not　now　even　a　dog；　thinking　it　cruel　to　keep　them　in　London。　　She　hated　the　women　she　met；　dragging　the　poor　little　depressed　beasts　about　at　the　end　of　a　string：　　savage　with　them；　if　they　dared　to　stop　for　a　moment　to　exchange　a　passing　wag　of　the　tail　with　some　other　little　lonely　sufferer。　　It　was　as　bad　as　keeping　a　lark　in　a　cage。　　She　had　tried　a　cat：　　but　so　often　she　did　not　get　home　till　late　and　that　was　just　the　time　when　the　cat　wanted　to　be　out；　so　that　they　seldom　met。　　He　suggested　a　parrot。　　His　experience　of　them　was　that　they　had　no　regular　hours　and　would　willingly　sit　up　all　night；　if　encouraged；　and　talk　all　the　time。　　Joan's　objection　to　running　a　parrot　was　that　it　stamped　you　as　an　old　maid；　and　she　wasn't　that；　at　least；　not　yet。　　She　wondered　if　she　could　make　an　owl　really　happy。　Minerva　had　an　owl。

He　told　her　how　one　spring；　walking　across　a　common；　after　a　fire；　he　had　found　a　mother　thrush　burnt　to　death　upon　her　nest；　her　charred　wings　spread　out　in　a　vain　endeavour　to　protect　her　brood。　He　had　buried　her　there　among　the　blackened　thorn　and　furze；　and　placed　a　little　cross　of　stones　above　her。

〃I　hope　nobody　saw　me；〃　he　said　with　a　laugh。　　〃But　I　couldn't　bear　to　leave　her　there；　unhonoured。〃

〃It's　one　of　the　things　that　make　me　less　certain　than　I　want　to　be　of　a　future　existence；〃　said　Joan：　　〃the　thought　that　animals　can　have　no　part　in　it；　that　all　their　courage　and　love　and　faithfulness　dies　with　them　and　is　wasted。〃

〃Are　you　sure　it　is？〃　he　answered。　　〃It　would　be　so　unreasonable。〃

They　had　tea　at　an　old…fashioned　inn　beside　a　stream。　　It　was　a　favourite　resort　in　summer　time；　but　now　they　had　it　to　themselves。　The　wind　had　played　pranks　with　her　hair　and　he　found　a　mirror　and　knelt　before　her；　holding　it。

She　stood　erect；　looking　down　at　him　while　seeming　to　be　absorbed　in　the　rearrangement　of　her　hair；　feeling　a　little　ashamed　of　herself。　　She　was　〃encouraging〃　him。　　There　was　no　other　word　for　it。　　She　seemed　to　have　developed　a　sudden　penchant　for　this　sort　of　thing。　　It　would　end　in　his　proposing　to　her；　and　then　she　would　have　to　tell　him　that　she　cared　for　him　only　in　a　cousinly　sort　of　waywhatever　that　might　meanand　that　she　could　never　marry　him。　She　dared　not　ask　herself　why。　　She　must　manoeuvre　to　put　it　off　as　long　as　possible；　and　meanwhile　some　opening　might　occur　to　enlighten　him。　　She　would　talk　to　him　about　her　work；　and　explain　to　him　how　she　had　determined　to　devote　her　life　to　it　to　the　exclusion　of　all　other　distractions。　　If；　then；　he　chose　to　go　on　loving　heror　if　he　couldn't　help　itthat　would　not　be　her　fault。　After　all；　it　did　him　no　harm。　　S