To Let by John Galsworthy (the beginning after the end novel read TXT) 📖
- Author: John Galsworthy
Book online «To Let by John Galsworthy (the beginning after the end novel read TXT) 📖». Author John Galsworthy
Park When She Went To Town. She Even Kept Jon's Letters Covered With
Pink Silk, On Her Heart, Than Which In Days When Corsets Were So Low,
Sentiment So Despised, And Chests So Out Of Fashion, There Could,
Perhaps, Have Been No Greater Proof Of The Fixity Of Her Idea.
After Hearing Of His Father's Death, She Had Written To Jon, And
Received His Answer Three Days Later On Her Return From A River Picnic.
It Was His First Letter Since Their Meeting At June's. She Opened It
With Misgiving, And Read It With Dismay.
"Since I Saw You I've Heard Everything About The Past. I Won't Tell It
You--I Think You Knew When We Met At June's. She Says You Did. If You
Did, Fleur, You Ought To Have Told Me. I Expect You Only Heard Your
Father's Side Of It. I Have Heard My Mother's. It's Dreadful. Now That
She's So Sad I Can't Do Anything To Hurt Her More. Of Course, I Long
For You All Day, But I Don't Believe Now That We Shall Ever Come
Together--There's Something Too Strong Pulling Us Apart."
Her Deception Had Found Her Out. But Jon--She Felt--Had Forgiven That.
It Was What He Said Of His Mother Which Caused The Fluttering In Her
Heart And The Weak Sensation In Her Legs.
Her First Impulse Was To Reply--Her Second, Not To Reply. These
Impulses Were Constantly Renewed In The Days Which Followed, While
Desperation Grew Within Her. She Was Not Her Father's Child For
Nothing. The Tenacity, Which Had At Once Made And Undone Soames, Was
Her Backbone, Too, Frilled And Embroidered By French Grace And
Quickness. Instinctively She Conjugated The Verb "To Have" Always With
The Pronoun "I." She Concealed, However, All Signs Of Her Growing
Desperation, And Pursued Such River Pleasures As The Winds And Rain Of
A Disagreeable July Permitted, As If She Had No Care In The World; Nor
Did Any "Sucking Baronet" Ever Neglect The Business Of A Publisher More
Consistently Than Her Attendant Spirit, Michael Mont.
Part III V (The Fixed Idea) Pg 88To Soames She Was A Puzzle. He Was Almost Deceived By This Careless
Gaiety. Almost--Because He Did Not Fail To Mark Her Eyes Often Fixed On
Nothing, And The Film Of Light Shining From Her Bedroom Window Late At
Night. What Was She Thinking And Brooding Over Into Small Hours When
She Ought To Have Been Asleep? But He Dared Not Ask What Was In Her
Mind; And, Since That One Little Talk In The Billiard-Room, She Said
Nothing To Him.
In This Taciturn Condition Of Affairs It Chanced That Winifred Invited
Them To Lunch And To Go Afterwards To "A Most Amusing Little Play, 'The
Beggar's Opera,'" And Would They Bring A Man To Make Four? Soames,
Whose Attitude Towards Theatres Was To Go To Nothing, Accepted, Because
Fleur's Attitude Was To Go To Everything. They Motored Up, Taking
Michael Mont, Who, Being In His Seventh Heaven, Was Found By Winifred
"Very Amusing." "The Beggar's Opera" Puzzled Soames. The People Were
Unpleasant, The Whole Thing Cynical. Winifred Was "Intrigued"--By The
Dresses. The Music Too Did Not Displease Her. At The Opera, The Night
Before, She Had Arrived Too Early For The Russian Ballet, And Found The
Stage Occupied By Singers, For A Whole Hour Pale Or Apoplectic From
Terror Lest By Some Dreadful Inadvertence They Might Drop Into A Tune.
Michael Mont Was Enraptured With The Whole Thing. And All Three
Wondered What Fleur Was Thinking Of It. But Fleur Was Not Thinking Of
It. Her Fixed Idea Stood On The Stage And Sang With Polly Peachum,
Mimed With Filch, Danced With Jenny Diver, Postured With Lucy Lockit,
Kissed, Trolled, And Cuddled With Macheath. Her Lips Might Smile, Her
Hands Applaud, But The Comic Old Masterpiece Made No More Impression On
Her Than If It Had Been Pathetic, Like A Modern "Revue." When They
Embarked In The Car To Return, She Ached Because Jon Was Not Sitting
Next Her Instead Of Michael Mont. When, At Some Jolt, The Young Man's
Arm Touched Hers As If By Accident, She Only Thought: 'If That Were
Jon's Arm!' When His Cheerful Voice, Tempered By Her Proximity,
Murmured Above The Sound Of The Car's Progress, She Smiled And
Answered, Thinking: 'If That Were Jon's Voice!' And When Once He Said:
"Fleur, You Look A Perfect Angel In That Dress!" She Answered: "Oh, Do
You Like It?" Thinking: 'If Only Jon Could See It!'
During This Drive She Took A Resolution. She Would Go To Robin Hill And
See Him--Alone; She Would Take The Car, Without Word Beforehand To Him
Or To Her Father. It Was Nine Days Since His Letter, And She Could Wait
No Longer.
Part III V (The Fixed Idea) Pg 89On Monday She Would Go! The Decision Made Her Well Disposed
Towards Young Mont. With Something To Look Forward To She Could Afford
To Tolerate And Respond. He Might Stay To Dinner; Propose To Her As
Usual; Dance With Her, Press Her Hand, Sigh--Do What He Liked. He Was
Only A Nuisance When He Interfered With Her Fixed Idea. She Was Even
Sorry For Him So Far As It Was Possible To Be Sorry For Anybody But
Herself Just Now. At Dinner He Seemed To Talk More Wildly Than Usual
About What He Called 'The Death Of The Close Borough'--She Paid Little
Attention, But Her Father Seemed Paying A Good Deal, With A Smile On
His Face Which Meant Opposition, If Not Anger.
"The Younger Generation Doesn't Think As You Do, Sir; Does It, Fleur?"
Fleur Shrugged Her Shoulders--The Younger Generation Was Just Jon, And
She Did Not Know What He Was Thinking.
"Young People Will Think As I Do When They're My Age, Mr. Mont. Human
Nature Doesn't Change."
"I Admit That, Sir; But The Forms Of Thought Change With The Times. The
Pursuit Of Self-Interest Is A Form Of Thought That's Going Out."
"Indeed! To Mind One's Own Business Is Not A Form Of Thought, Mr. Mont,
It's An Instinct."
Yes, When Jon Was The Business!
"But What Is One's Business, Sir? That's The Point, Everybody's
Business Is Going To Be One's Business. Isn't It, Fleur?"
Fleur Only Smiled.
"If Not," Added Young Mont, "There'll Be Blood."
Part III V (The Fixed Idea) Pg 90"People Have Talked Like That From Time Immemorial."
"But You'll Admit, Sir, That The Sense Of Property Is Dying Out?"
"I Should Say Increasing Among Those Who Have None."
"Well, Look At Me! I'm Heir To An Entailed Estate. I Don't Want The
Thing; I'd Cut The Entail To-Morrow."
"You're Not Married, And You Don't Know What You're Talking About."
Fleur Saw The Young Man's Eyes Turn Rather Piteously Upon Her.
"Do You Really Mean That Marriage--?" He Began.
"Society Is Built On Marriage," Came From Between Her Father's Close
Lips; "Marriage And Its Consequences. Do You Want To Do Away With It?"
Young Mont Made A Distracted Gesture. Silence Brooded Over The
Dinner-Table, Covered With Spoons Bearing The Forsyte Crest--A Pheasant
Proper--Under The Electric Light In An Alabaster Globe. And Outside,
The River Evening Darkened, Charged With Heavy Moisture And Sweet
Scents.
'Monday,' Thought Fleur; 'Monday!'
Part III VI (Desperate) Pg 91
The Weeks Which Followed The Death Of His Father Were Sad And Empty To
The Only Jolyon Forsyte Left. The Necessary Forms And Ceremonies--The
Reading Of The Will, Valuation Of The Estate, Distribution Of The
Legacies--Were Enacted Over The Head, As It Were, Of One Not Yet Of
Age. Jolyon Was Cremated. By His Special Wish No One Attended That
Ceremony, Or Wore Black For Him. The Succession Of His Property,
Controlled To Some Extent By Old Jolyon's Will, Left His Widow In
Possession Of Robin Hill, With Two Thousand Five Hundred Pounds A Year
For Life. Apart From This The Two Wills Worked Together In Some
Complicated Way To Insure That Each Of Jolyon's Three Children Should
Have An Equal Share In Their Grandfather's And Father's Property In The
Future As In The Present, Save Only That Jon, By Virtue Of His Sex,
Would Have Control Of His Capital When He Was Twenty-One, While June
And Holly Would Only Have The Spirit Of Theirs, In Order That Their
Children Might Have The Body After Them. If They Had No Children, It
Would All Come To Jon If He Outlived Them; And Since June Was Fifty,
And Holly Nearly Forty, It Was Considered In Lincoln's Inn Fields That
But For The Cruelty Of Income Tax, Young Jon Would Be As Warm A Man As
His Grandfather When He Died. All This Was Nothing To Jon, And Little
Enough To His Mother. It Was June Who Did Everything Needful For One
Who Had Left His Affairs In Perfect Order. When She Had Gone, And Those
Two Were Alone Again In The Great House, Alone With Death Drawing Them
Together, And Love Driving Them Apart, Jon Passed Very Painful Days
Secretly Disgusted And Disappointed With Himself. His Mother Would Look
At Him With A Patient Sadness Which Yet Had In It An Instinctive Pride,
As If She Were Reserving Her Defence. If She Smiled He Was Angry That
His Answering Smile Should Be So Grudging And Unnatural. He Did Not
Judge Or Condemn Her; That Was All Too Remote--Indeed, The Idea Of
Doing So Had Never Come To Him. No! He Was Grudging And Unnatural
Because He Couldn't Have What He Wanted Because Of Her. There Was One
Alleviation--Much To Do In Connection With His Father's Career, Which
Could Not Be Safely Intrusted To June, Though She Had Offered To
Undertake It.
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