fraternity-第49章

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〃Well；　good…bye；〃　he　said。

The　little　model　flushed　and　quivered。　　'You　don't　even　look　at　me；'　she　seemed　to　say；　'you　haven't　spoken　kindly　to　me　once。'　And　suddenly　she　said　in　a　hard　voice：

〃Now　I　shan't　go　to　Mr。　Lennard's　any　more。〃

〃Oh；　then　you　have　been　to　him！〃

Triumph　at　attracting　his　attention；　fear　of　what　she　had　admitted；　supplication；　and　a　half…defiant　shameall　this　was　in　her　face。

〃Yes；〃　she　said。

Hilary　did　not　speak。

〃I　didn't　care　any　more　when　you　told　me　I　wasn't　to　come　here。〃

Still　Hilary　did　not　speak。

〃I　haven't　done　anything　wrong；〃　she　said；　with　tears　in　her　voice。

〃No；　no；〃　said　Hilary；　〃of　course　not！〃

The　little　model　choked。

〃It's　my　profession。〃

〃Yes；　yes；〃　said　Hilary；　〃it's　all　right。〃

〃I　don't　care　what　he　thinks；　I　won't　go　again　so　long　as　I　can　come　here。〃

Hilary　touched　her　shoulder。

〃Well；　well；〃　he　said；　and　opened　the　front　door。

The　little　model；　tremulous；　like'　a　flower　kissed　by　the　sun　after　rain；　went　out　with　a　light　in　her　eyes。

The　master　of　the　house　returned　to　Mr。　Stone。　　Long　he　sat　looking　at　the　old　man's　slumber。　　〃A　thinker　meditating　upon　action！〃　So　might　Hilary's　figure；　with　its　thin　face　resting　on　its　hand；　a　furrow　between　the　brows；　and　that　painful　smile；　have　been　entitled　in　any　catalogue　of　statues。




CHAPTER　XXX

FUNERAL　OF　A　BABY

Following　out　the　instinct　planted　so　deeply　in　human　nature　for　treating　with　the　utmost　care　and　at　great　expense　when　dead　those；　who；　when　alive；　have　been　served　with　careless　parsimony；　there　started　from　the　door　of　No。　1　in　Hound　Street　a　funeral　procession　of　three　four…wheeled　cabs。　The　first　bore　the　little　coffin；　on　which　lay　a　great　white　wreath　（gift　of　Cecilia　and　Thyme）。　　The　second　bore　Mrs。　Hughs；　her　son　Stanley；　and　Joshua　Creed。　　The　third　bore　Martin　Stone。　　In　the　first　cab　Silence　was　presiding　with　the　scent　of　lilies　over　him　who　in　his　short　life　had　made　so　little　noise；　the　small　grey　shadow　which　had　crept　so　quietly　into　being；　and；　taking　his　chance　when　he　was　not　noticed；　had　crept　so　quietly　out　again。　　Never　had　he　felt　so　restful；　so　much　at　home；　as　in　that　little　common　coffin；　washed　as　he　was　to　an　unnatural　whiteness；　and　wrapped　in　his　mother's　only　spare　sheet。　　Away　from　all　the　strife　of　men　he　was　Journeying　to　a　greater　peace。　　His　little　aloe…plant　had　flowered；　and；　between　the　open　windows　of　the　only　carriage　he　had　ever　been　inside；　the　windwhich；　who　knows？　he　had　perhaps　becomestirred　the　fronds　of　fern　and　the　flowers　of　his　funeral　wreath。　　Thus　he　was　going　from　that　world　where　all　men　were　his　brothers。

》From　the　second　cab　the　same　wind　was　rigidly　excluded；　and　there　was　silence；　broken　by　the　aged　butler's　breathing。　　Dressed　in　his　Newmarket　coat；　he　was　recalling　with　a　certain　sense　of　luxury　past；　journeys　in　four…wheeled　cabsoccasions　when；　seated　beside　a　box　corded　and　secured　with　sealing…wax；　he　had　taken　his　master's　plate　for　safety　to　the　bank；　occasions　when；　under　a　roof　piled　up　with　guns　and　boxes；　he　had　sat　holding　the　〃Honorable　Bateson's〃　dog；　occasions　when；　with　some　young　person　by　his　side；　he　had　driven　at　the　tail　of　a　baptismal；　nuptial；　or　funeral　cortege。　　These　memories　of　past　grandeur　came　back　to　him　with　curious　poignancy；　and　for　some　reason　the　words　kept　rising　in　his　mind：　'For　richer　or　poorer；　for　better　or　worser；　in　health　and　in　sick　places；　till　death　do　us　part。'　But　in　the　midst　of　the　exaltation　of　these　recollections　the　old　heart　beneath　his　old　red　flannel　chest…protectorthat　companion　of　his　exiletwittering　faintly　at　short　intervals；　made　him　look　at　the　woman　by　his　side。　　He　longed　to　convey　to　her　some　little　of　the　satisfaction　he　felt　in　the　fact　that　this　was　by　no　means　the　low　class　of　funeral　it　might　have　been。　　He　doubted　whether；　with　her　woman's　mind；　she　was　getting　all　the　comfort　she　could　out　of　three　four…wheeled　cabs　and　a　wreath　of　lilies。　　The　seamstress's　thin　face；　with　its　pinched；　passive　look；　was　indeed　thinner；　quieter；　than　ever。　　What　she　was　thinking　of　he　could　not　tell。　　There　were　so　many　things　she　might　be　thinking　of。　　She；　too；　no　doubt；　had　seen　her　grandeur；　if　but　in　the　solitary　drive　away　from　the　church　where；　eight　years　ago；　she　and　Hughs　had　listened　to　the　words　now　haunting　Creed。　　Was　she　thinking　of　that；　of　her　lost　youth　and　comeliness；　and　her　man's　dead　love；　of　the　long　descent　to　shadowland；　of　the　other　children　she　had　buried；　of　Hughs　in　prison；　of　the　girl　that　had　〃put　a　spell　on　him〃；　or　only　of　the　last　precious　tugs　the　tiny　lips　at　rest　in　the　first　four…wheeled　cab　had　given　at　her　breast？　　Or　was　she；　with　a　nicer　feeling　for　proportion；　reflecting　that；　had　not　people　been　so　kind；　she　might　have　had　to　walk　behind　a　funeral　provided　by　the　parish？

The　old　butler　could　not　tell；　but　hewhose　one　desire　now；　coupled　with　the　wish　to　die　outside　a　workhouse；　was　to　save　enough　to　bury　his　own　body　without　the　interference　of　other　peoplewas　inclined　to　think　she　must　be　dwelling　on　the　brighter　side　of　things；　and；　designing　to　encourage　her；　he　said：　〃Wonderful　improvement　in　these　'ere　four…wheel　cabs！　　Oh　dear；　yes！　　I　remember　of　them　when　they　were　the　shadders　of　what　they　are　at　the　present　time　of　speakin'。〃

The　seamstress　answered　in　her　quiet　voice：　〃Very　comfortable　this　is。　　Sit　still；　Stanley！〃　　Her　little　son；　whose　feet　did　not　reach　the　floor；　was　drumming　his　heels　against　the　seat。　　He　stopped　and　looked　at　her；　and　the　old　butler　addressed　him。

〃You'll　a…remember　of　this　occasion；〃　he　said；　〃when　you　gets　older。〃

The　little　boy　turned　his　black　eyes　from　his　mother　to　him　who　had　spoken　last。

〃It's　a　beautiful　wreath；〃　continued　Creed。　　〃I　could　smell　of　it　all　the　way　up　the　stairs。　　There's　been　no　expense　spared；　there's　white　laylock　in　itthat's　a　class　of　flower　that's　very　extravagant。〃

A　train　of　thought　having　been　roused　too　strong　for　his　discretion；　he　added：　〃I　saw　that　young　girl　yesterday。　　She　came　interrogatin'　of　me　in　the　street。〃

On　Mrs。　Hughs'　face；　where　till　now　expression　had　been　buried；　came　such　a　look　as　one　may　see　on　the　face　of　an　owl…hard；　watchful；　cruel；　harder；　more　cruel；　for　the　softness　of　the　big　dark　eyes。

〃She'd　show　a　better　feeling；〃　she　said；　〃to　keep　a　quiet　tongue。　Sit　still；　Stanley！〃

Once　more　the　little　boy　stopped　drumming　his　heels；　and　shifted　his　stare　from　the　old　butler　back　to　her　who　spoke。　　The　cab；　which　had　seemed　to　hesitate　and　start；　as　though　jibbing　at　something　in　the　road；　resumed　its　ambling　pace。　　Creed　looked　through　the　well…closed　window。　　There　before　him；　so　long　that　it　seemed　to　have　no　end；　like　a　building　in　a　nightmare；　stretched　that　place　where　he　did　not　mean　to　end　his　days。　　He　faced　towards　the　horse　again。　　The　colour　had　deepened　in　his　nose。　　He　spoke：

〃If　they'd　a…give　me　my　last　edition　earlier；　'stead　of　sending　of　it　down　after　that　low…class　feller's　taken　all　my　customers；　that'd　make　a　difference　to　me　o'　two　shillin's　at　the　utmost　in　the　week；　and　all　clear　savin's。〃　　To　these　words；　dark　with　hidden　meaning；　he　received　no　answer　save　the　drumming　of　the　small　boy's　heels；　and；　reverting　to　the　subject　he　had　been　distracted　from；　he　murmured：　〃She　was　a…wearin'　of　new　clothes。〃

He　was　startled　by　the　fierce　tone　of　a　voice　he　hardly　knew。　　〃I　don't　want　to　hear　about　her；　she's　not　for　decent　folk　to　talk　of。〃

The　old　butler　looked　round　askance。　　The　seamstress　was　trembling　violently。　　Her　fierceness　at　such　a　moment　shocked　him。　　〃'Dust　to　dust；'〃　he　thought。

〃Don't　you　be　considerate　of　it；〃　he　said　at　last；　summoning　all　his　knowledge　of　the　world；　〃she'll　come　to　her　own　place。〃　　And　at　the　sight　of　a　slow　tear　trickling　over　her　burning　cheek；　he　added　hurriedly：　〃Think　of　your　babyI'll　see　yer　through。　　Sit　still；　little　boysit　still！　　Ye're　disturbin'　of　your　mother。〃

Once　more　the　little　boy　stayed　the　drumming　of　his　heels　to　look　at　him　who　spoke；　and　the　closed　cab　rolled　on　with　its　slow；　jingling　sound。

In　the　third　four…wheeled　cab；　where　the　windows　again　were　wide　open；　Martin　Stone；　with　his　hands　thrust　de