the dark flower-第40章
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Vanity Fair cartoons； out into the east wind。
III
Crossing the Green Park on his way home； was he more； or less；
restless？ Difficult to say。 A little flattered； certainly； a
little warmed； yet irritated； as always when he came into contact
with people to whom the world of Art was such an amusing unreality。
The notion of trying to show that child how to drawthat feather…
pate； with her riding and her kitten； and her 'Perdita' eyes！
Quaint； how she had at once made friends with him！ He was a little
different； perhaps； from what she was accustomed to。 And how
daintily she spoke！ A strange； attractive； almost lovely child！
Certainly not more than seventeenandJohnny Dromore's daughter！
The wind was bitter； the lamps bright among the naked trees。
Beautiful alwaysLondon at night； even in January； even in an east
wind； with a beauty he never tired of。 Its great； dark； chiselled
shapes； its gleaming lights； like droves of flying stars come to
earth； and all warmed by the beat and stir of innumerable lives
those lives that he ached so to know and to be part of。
He told Sylvia of his encounter。 Dromore！ The name struck her。
She had an old Irish song； 'The Castle of Dromore；' with a queer；
haunting refrain。
It froze hard all the week； and he began a life…size group of their
two sheep…dogs。 Then a thaw set in with that first south…west
wind； which brings each February a feeling of Spring such as is
never again recaptured； and men's senses； like sleepy bees in the
sun； go roving。 It awakened in him more violently than ever the
thirst to be living； knowing； lovingthe craving for something
new。 Not this； of course； took him back to Dromore's rooms； oh；
no！ just friendliness； since he had not even told his old room…mate
where he lived； or said that his wife would be glad to make his
acquaintance； if he cared to come round。 For Johnny Dromore had
assuredly not seemed too happy； under all his hard…bitten air。
Yes！ it was but friendly to go again。
Dromore was seated in his long arm…chair； a cigar between his lips；
a pencil in his hand； a Ruff's Guide on his knee； beside him was a
large green book。 There was a festive air about him； very
different from his spasmodic gloom of the other day； and he
murmured without rising：
〃Halo； old man！glad to see you。 Take a pew。 Look here！
Agapemonewhich d'you think I ought to put her toSan Diavolo or
Ponte Canet？not more than four crosses of St。 Paul。 Goin' to get
a real good one from her this time！〃
He； who had never heard these sainted names； answered：
〃Oh！ Ponte Canet； without doubt。 But if you're working I'll come
in another time。〃
〃Lord！ no！ Have a smoke。 I'll just finish lookin' out their
bloodand take a pull。〃
And so Lennan sat down to watch those researches； wreathed in cigar
smoke and punctuated by muttered expletives。 They were as sacred
and absorbing； no doubt； as his own efforts to create in clay； for
before Dromore's inner vision was the perfect racehorsehe； too；
was creating。 Here was no mere dodge for making money； but a
process hallowed by the peculiar sensation felt when one rubbed the
palms of the hands together； the sensation that accompanied all
creative achievement。 Once only Dromore paused to turn his head
and say：
〃Bally hard； gettin' a taproot right！〃
Real Art！ How well an artist knew that desperate search after the
point of balance； the central rivet that must be found before a
form would come to life。 。 。 。 And he noted that to…day there was
no kitten； no flowers； no sense at all of an extraneous presence
even the picture was curtained。 Had the girl been just a dreama
fancy conjured up by his craving after youth？
Then he saw that Dromore had dropped the large green book； and was
standing before the fire。
〃Nell took to you the other day。 But you always were a lady's man。
Remember the girl at Coaster's？〃
Coaster's tea…shop； where he would go every afternoon that he had
money； just for the pleasure of looking shyly at a face。 Something
beautiful to look atnothing more！ Johnny Dromore would no better
understand that now than when they were at 'Bambury's。' Not the
smallest good even trying to explain！ He looked up at the goggling
eyes； he heard the bantering voice：
〃I sayyou ARE goin' grey。 We're bally old； Lenny！ A fellow gets
old when he marries。〃
And he answered：
〃By the way； I never knew that YOU had been。〃
From Dromore's face the chaffing look went； like a candle…flame
blown out； and a coppery flush spread over it。 For some seconds he
did not speak； then； jerking his head towards the picture； he
muttered gruffly：
〃Never had the chance of marrying； there； Nell's 'outside。'〃
A sort of anger leaped in Lennan； why should Dromore speak that
word as if he were ashamed of his own daughter？ Just like his
sortnone so hidebound as men…about…town！ Flotsam on the tide of
other men's opinions； poor devils adrift； without the one true
anchorage of their own real feelings！ And doubtful whether Dromore
would be pleased； or think him gushing； or even distrustful of his
morality； he said：
〃As for that； it would only make any decent man or woman nicer to
her。 When is she going to let me teach her drawing？〃
Dromore crossed the room； drew back the curtain of the picture； and
in a muffled voice； said：
〃My God； Lenny！ Life's unfair。 Nell's coming killed her mother。
I'd rather it had been mebar chaff！ Women have no luck。〃
Lennan got up from his comfortable chair。 For； startled out of the
past； the memory of that summer night； when yet another woman had
no luck； was flooding his heart with its black； inextinguishable
grief。 He said quietly：
〃The past IS past； old man。〃
Dromore drew the curtain again across the picture； and came back to
the fire。 And for a full minute he stared into it。
〃What am I to do with Nell？ She's growing up。〃
〃What have you done with her so far？〃
〃She's been at school。 In the summer she goes to IrelandI've got
a bit of an old place there。 She'll be eighteen in July。 I shall
have to introduce her to women； and all that。 It's the devil！
How？ Who？〃
Lennan could only murmur： 〃My wife； for one。〃
He took his leave soon after。 Johnny Dromore！ Bizarre guardian
for that child！ Queer life she must have of it； in that bachelor's
den； surrounded by Ruff's Guides！ What would become of her？
Caught up by some young spark about town； married to him； no doubt
her father would see to the thoroughness of that； his standard of
respectability was evidently high！ And aftergo the way； maybe；
of her motherthat poor thing in the picture with the alluring；
desperate face。 Well！ It was no business of his！
IV
No business of his！ The merest sense of comradeship； then； took
him once more to Dromore's after that disclosure； to prove that the
word 'outside' had no significance save in his friend's own fancy；
to assure him again that Sylvia would be very glad to welcome the
child at any time she liked to come。
When he had told her of that little matter of Nell's birth； she had
been silent a long minute； looking in his face； and then had said：
〃Poor child！ I wonder if SHE knows！ People are so unkind； even
nowadays！〃 He could not himself think of anyone who would pay
attention to such a thing； except to be kinder to the girl； but in
such matters Sylvia was the better judge； in closer touch with
general thought。 She met people that he did notand of a more
normal species。
It was rather late when he got to Dromore's diggings on that third
visit。
〃Mr。 Dromore； sir；〃 the man saidhe had one of those strictly
confidential faces bestowed by an all…wise Providence on servants
in the neighbourhood of Piccadilly〃Mr。 Dromore； sir； is not in。
But he will be almost sure to be in to dress。 Miss Nell is in；
sir。〃
And there she was； sitting at the table； pasting photographs into
an albumlonely young creature in that abode of male middle…age！
Lennan stood； unheard； gazing at the back of her head； with its
thick crinkly…brown hair tied back on her dark…red frock。 And； to
the confidential man's soft：
〃Mr。 Lennan； miss；〃 he added a softer： 〃May I come in？〃
Sh
