the new machiavelli-第89章

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the　trees　and　shrubs　of　Ridout　College　were　gay　with　blossom；　and　

fresh　with　the　new　sharp　greens　of　spring。　　I　had　walked　talking　

with　Isabel　and　a　couple　of　other　girls　through　the　wide　gardens　of　

the　place；　seen　and　criticised　the　new　brick　pond；　nodded　to　the　

daughter　of　this　friend　and　that　in　the　hammocks　under　the　trees；　

and　picked　a　way　among　the　scattered　tea…parties　on　the　lawn　to　our　

own　circle　on　the　grass　under　a　Siberian　crab　near　the　great　bay　

window。　　There　I　sat　and　ate　great　quantities　of　cake；　and　discussed　

the　tactics　of　the　Suffragettes。　　I　had　made　some　comments　upon　the　

spirit　of　the　movement　in　an　address　to　the　men　in　Pembroke；　and　it　

had　got　abroad；　and　a　group　of　girls　and　women　dons　were　now　having　

it　out　with　me。



I　forget　the　drift　of　the　conversation；　or　what　it　was　made　Isabel　

interrupt　me。　　She　did　interrupt　me。　　She　bad　been　lying　prone　on　

the　ground　at　my　right　hand；　chin　on　fists；　listening　thoughtfully；　

and　I　was　sitting　beside　old　Lady　Evershead　on　a　garden　seat。　　I　

turned　to　Isabel's　voice；　and　saw　her　face　uplifted；　and　her　dear　

cheeks　and　nose　and　forehead　all　splashed　and　barred　with　sunlight　

and　the　shadows　of　the　twigs　of　the　trees　behind　me。　　And　something

an　infinite　tenderness；　stabbed　me。　　It　was　a　keen　physical　

feeling；　like　nothing　I　had　ever　felt　before。　　It　had　a　quality　of　

tears　in　it。　　For　the　first　time　in　my　narrow　and　concentrated　life　

another　human　being　had　really　thrust　into　my　being　and　gripped　my　

very　heart。



Our　eyes　met　perplexed　for　an　extraordinary　moment。　　Then　I　turned　

back　and　addressed　myself　a　little　stiffly　to　the　substance　of　her　

intervention。　　For　some　time　I　couldn't　look　at　her　again。



From　that　time　forth　I　knew　I　loved　Isabel　beyond　measure。



Yet　it　is　curious　that　it　never　occurred　to　me　for　a　year　or　so　that　

this　was　likely　to　be　a　matter　of　passion　between　us。　　I　have　told　

how　definitely　I　put　my　imagination　into　harness　in　those　matters　at　

my　marriage；　and　I　was　living　now　in　a　world　of　big　interests；　where　

there　is　neither　much　time　nor　inclination　for　deliberate　love…

making。　　I　suppose　there　is　a　large　class　of　men　who　never　meet　a　

girl　or　a　woman　without　thinking　of　sex；　who　meet　a　friend's　

daughter　and　decide：　〃Mustn't　get　friendly　with　herwouldn't　DO；〃　

and　set　invisible　bars　between　themselves　and　all　the　wives　in　the　

world。　　Perhaps　that　is　the　way　to　live。　　Perhaps　there　is　no　other　

method　than　this　effectual　annihilation　of　halfand　the　most　

sympathetic　and　attractive　halfof　the　human　beings　in　the　world；　

so　far　as　any　frank　intercourse　is　concerned。　　I　am　quite　convinced　

anyhow　that　such　a　qualified　intimacy　as　ours；　such　a　drifting　into　

the　sense　of　possession；　such　untrammeled　conversation　with　an　

invisible；　implacable　limit　set　just　where　the　intimacy　glows；　it　is　

no　kind　of　tolerable　compromise。　　If　men　and　women　are　to　go　so　far　

together；　they　must　be　free　to　go　as　far　as　they　may　want　to　go；　

without　the　vindictive　destruction　that　has　come　upon　us。　　On　the　

basis　of　the　accepted　codes　the　jealous　people　are　right；　and　the　

liberal…minded　ones　are　playing　with　fire。　　If　people　are　not　to　

love；　then　they　must　be　kept　apart。　　If　they　are　not　to　be　kept　

apart；　then　we　must　prepare　for　an　unprecedented　toleration　of　

lovers。



Isabel　was　as　unforeseeing　as　I　to　begin　with；　but　sex　marches　into　

the　life　of　an　intelligent　girl　with　demands　and　challenges　far　more　

urgent　than　the　mere　call　of　curiosity　and　satiable　desire　that　

comes　to　a　young　man。　　No　woman　yet　has　dared　to　tell　the　story　of　

that　unfolding。　　She　attracted　men；　and　she　encouraged　them；　and　

watched　them；　and　tested　them；　and　dismissed　them；　and　concealed　the　

substance　of　her　thoughts　about　them　in　the　way　that　seems　

instinctive　in　a　natural…minded　girl。　　There　was　even　an　engagement

amidst　the　protests　and　disapproval　of　the　college　authorities。　　I　

never　saw　the　man；　though　she　gave　me　a　long　history　of　the　affair；　

to　which　I　listened　with　a　forced　and　insincere　sympathy。　　She　

struck　me　oddly　as　taking　the　relationship　for　a　thing　in　itself；　

and　regardless　of　its　consequences。　　After　a　time　she　became　silent　

about　him；　and　then　threw　him　over；　and　by　that　time；　I　think；　for　

all　that　she　was　so　much　my　junior；　she　knew　more　about　herself　and　

me　than　I　was　to　know　for　several　years　to　come。



We　didn't　see　each　other　for　some　months　after　my　resignation；　but　

we　kept　up　a　frequent　correspondence。　　She　said　twice　over　that　she　

wanted　to　talk　to　me；　that　letters　didn't　convey　what　one　wanted　to　

say；　and　I　went　up　to　Oxford　pretty　definitely　to　see　herthough　I　

combined　it　with　one　or　two　other　engagementssomewhere　in　

February。　　Insensibly　she　had　become　important　enough　for　me　to　make　

journeys　for　her。



But　we　didn't　see　very　much　of　one　another　on　that　occasion。　　There　

was　something　in　the　air　between　us　that　made　a　faint　embarrassment；　

the　mere　fact；　perhaps；　that　she　had　asked　me　to　come　up。



A　year　before　she　would　have　dashed　off　with　me　quite　unscrupulously　

to　talk　alone；　carried　me　off　to　her　room　for　an　hour　with　a　minute　

of　chaperonage　to　satisfy　the　rules。　　Now　there　was　always　some　one　

or　other　near　us　that　it　seemed　impossible　to　exorcise。



We　went　for　a　walk　on　the　Sunday　afternoon　with　old　Fortescue；　K。　

C。；　who'd　come　up　to　see　his　two　daughters；　both　great　friends　of　

Isabel's；　and　some　mute　inglorious　don　whose　name　I　forget；　but　who　

was　in　a　state　of　marked　admiration　for　her。　　The　six　of　us　played　a　

game　of　conversational　entanglements　throughout；　and　mostly　I　was　

impressing　the　Fortescue　girls　with　the　want　of　mental　concentration　

possible　in　a　rising　politician。　　We　went　down　Carfex；　I　remember；　

to　Folly　Bridge；　and　inspected　the　Barges；　and　then　back　by　way　of　

Merton　to　the　Botanic　Gardens　and　Magdalen　Bridge。　　And　in　the　

Botanic　Gardens　she　got　almost　her　only　chance　with　me。



〃Last　months　at　Oxford；〃　she　said。



〃And　then？〃　I　asked。



〃I'm　coming　to　London；〃　she　said。



〃To　write？〃



She　was　silent　for　a　moment。　　Then　she　said　abruptly；　with　that　

quick　flush　of　hers　and　a　sudden　boldness　in　her　eyes：　〃I'm　going　to　

work　with　you。　　Why　shouldn't　I？〃







3





Here；　again；　I　suppose　I　had　a　fair　warning　of　the　drift　of　things。　　

I　seem　to　remember　myself　in　the　train　to　Paddington；　sitting　with　a　

handful　of　papersgalley　proofs　for　the　BLUE　WEEKLY；　I　supposeon　

my　lap；　and　thinking　about　her　and　that　last　sentence　of　hers；　and　

all　that　it　might　mean　to　me。



It　is　very　hard　to　recall　even　the　main　outline　of　anything　so　

elusive　as　a　meditation。　　I　know　that　the　idea　of　working　with　her　

gripped　me；　fascinated　me。　　That　my　value　in　her　life　seemed　growing　

filled　me　with　pride　and　a　kind　of　gratitude。　　I　was　already　in　no　

doubt　that　her　value　in　my　life　was　tremendous。　　It　made　it　none　the　

less；　that　in　those　days　I　was　obsessed　by　the　idea　that　she　was　

transitory；　and　bound　to　go　out　of　my　life　again。　　It　is　no　good　

trying　to　set　too　fine　a　face　upon　this　complex　business；　there　is　

gold　and　clay　and　sunlight　and　savagery　in　every　love　story；　and　a　

multitude　of　elvish　elements　peeped　out　beneath　the　fine　rich　

curtain　of　affection　that　masked　our　future。　　I've　never　properly　

weighed　how　immensely　my　vanity　was　gratified　by　her　clear　

preference　for　me。　　Nor　can　I　for　a　moment　determine　how　much　

deliberate　intention　I　hide　from　myself　in　this　affair。



Certainly　I　think　some　part　of　me　must　have　been　saying　in　the　

train：　〃Leave　go　of　her。　　Get　away　from　her。　　End　this　now。〃　　I　

can't　have　been　so　stupid　as　not　to　have　had　that　in　my　mind。　。　。　。



If　she　had　been　only　a　beautiful　girl　in　love　with　me；　I　think　I　

could　have　managed　the　situation。　　Once　or　twice　since　my　marriage　

and　before　Isabel　became　of　any　significance　in　my　life；　there　had　

been　incidents　w