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
Waited In A Relaxed Stupor For Her Revelation. Life Was A Queer
Business. There He Was At Sixty-Five And No More In Command Of Things
Than If He Had Not Spent Forty Years In Building Up Security--Always
Something One Couldn't Get On Terms With! In The Pocket Of His
Dinner-Jacket Was A Letter From Annette. She Was Coming Back In A
Fortnight. He Knew Nothing Of What She Had Been Doing Out There. And He
Was Glad That He Did Not. Her Absence Had Been A Relief. Out Of Sight
Was Out Of Mind! And Now She Was Coming Back. Another Worry! And The
Bolderby Old Crome Was Gone--Dumetrius Had Got It--All Because That
Anonymous Letter Had Put It Out Of His Thoughts. He Furtively Remarked
The Strained Look On His Daughter's Face, As If She Too Were Gazing At
A Picture That She Couldn't Buy. He Almost Wished The War Back. Worries
Didn't Seem, Then, Quite So Worrying. From The Caress In Her Voice, The
Look On Her Face, He Became Certain That She Wanted Something From Him,
Uncertain Whether It Would Be Wise Of Him To Give It Her. He Pushed His
Savoury Away Uneaten, And Even Joined Her In A Cigarette.
After Dinner She Set The Electric Piano-Player Going. And He Augured
The Worst When She Sat Down On A Cushion Footstool At His Knee, And Put
Her Hand On His.
"Darling, Be Nice To Me. I Had To See Jon--He Wrote To Me. He's Going
To Try What He Can Do With His Mother. But I've Been Thinking. But It's
Really In Your Hands, Father. If You'd Persuade Her That It Doesn't
Mean Renewing The Past In Any Way! That I Shall Stay Yours, And Jon
Will Stay Hers; That You Need Never See Him Or Her, And She Need Never
See You Or Me! Only You Could Persuade Her, Dear, Because Only You
Could Promise. One Can't Promise For Other People. Surely It Wouldn't
Be Too Awkward For You To See Her Just This Once--Now That Jon's Father
Is Dead?"
"Too Awkward?" Soames Repeated. "The Whole Thing's Preposterous."
Part III VII (Embassy) Pg 103"You Know," Said Fleur, Without Looking Up, "You Wouldn't Mind Seeing
Her, Really."
Soames Was Silent. Her Words Had Expressed A Truth Too Deep For Him To
Admit. She Slipped Her Fingers Between His Own--Hot, Slim, Eager, They
Clung There. This Child Of His Would Corkscrew Her Way Into A Brick
Wall!
"What Am I To Do, If You Won't, Father?" She Said Very Softly.
"I'll Do Anything For Your Happiness," Said Soames; "But This Isn't For
Your Happiness."
"Oh! It Is; It Is!"
"It'll Only Stir Things Up," He Said Grimly.
"But They Are Stirred Up. The Thing Is To Quiet Them. To Make Her Feel
That This Is Just Our Lives, And Has Nothing To Do With Yours Or Hers.
You Can Do It, Father, I Know You Can."
"You Know A Great Deal, Then," Was Soames' Glum Answer.
"If You Will, Jon And I Will Wait A Year--Two Years If You Like."
"It Seems To Me," Murmured Soames, "That You Care Nothing About What I
Feel."
Fleur Pressed His Hand Against Her Cheek.
"I Do, Darling. But You Wouldn't Like Me To Be Awfully Miserable."
Part III VII (Embassy) Pg 104How
She Wheedled To Get Her Ends! And Trying With All His Might To Think
She Really Cared For Him--He Was Not Sure--Not Sure. All She Cared For
Was This Boy! Why Should He Help Her To Get This Boy, Who Was Killing
Her Affection For Himself? Why Should He? By The Laws Of The Forsytes
It Was Foolish! There Was Nothing To Be Had Out Of It--Nothing! To Give
Her To That Boy! To Pass Her Into The Enemy's Camp, Under The Influence
Of The Woman Who Had Injured Him So Deeply! Slowly--Inevitably--He
Would Lose This Flower Of His Life! And Suddenly He Was Conscious That
His Hand Was Wet. His Heart Gave A Little Painful Jump. He Couldn't
Bear Her To Cry. He Put His Other Hand Quickly Over Hers, And A Tear
Dropped On That, Too. He Couldn't Go On Like This! "Well, Well," He
Said, "I'll Think It Over, And Do What I Can. Come, Come!" If She Must
Have It For Her Happiness--She Must; He Couldn't Refuse To Help Her.
And Lest She Should Begin To Thank Him He Got Out Of His Chair And Went
Up To The Piano-Player--Making That Noise! It Ran Down, As He Reached
It, With A Faint Buzz. That Musical Box Of His Nursery Days: "The
Harmonious Blacksmith," "Glorious Port"--The Thing Had Always Made Him
Miserable When His Mother Set It Going On Sunday Afternoons. Here It
Was Again--The Same Thing, Only Larger, More Expensive, And Now It
Played: "The Wild Wild Women" And "The Policeman's Holiday," And He Was
No Longer In Black Velvet With A Sky-Blue Collar. 'Profond's Right,' He
Thought, 'There's Nothing In It! We're All Progressing To The Grave!'
And With That Surprising Mental Comment He Walked Out.
He Did Not See Fleur Again That Night. But, At Breakfast, Her Eyes
Followed Him About With An Appeal He Could Not Escape--Not That He
Intended To Try. No! He Had Made Up His Mind To The Nerve-Racking
Business. He Would Go To Robin Hill--To That House Of Memories. A
Pleasant Memory--The Last! Of Going Down To Keep That Boy's Father And
Irene Apart By Threatening Divorce. He Had Often Thought, Since, That
It Had Clenched Their Union. And, Now, He Was Going To Clench The Union
Of That Boy With His Girl. 'I Don't Know What I've Done,' He Thought,
'To Have Such Things Thrust On Me!' He Went Up By Train And Down By
Train, And From The Station Walked By The Long Rising Lane, Still Very
Much As He Remembered It Over Thirty Years Ago. Funny--So Near London!
Some One Evidently Was Holding On To The Land There. This Speculation
Soothed Him, Moving Between The High Hedges Slowly, So As Not To Get
Overheated, Though The Day Was Chill Enough. After All Was Said And
Done There Was Something Real About Land, It Didn't Shift. Land, And
Good Pictures! The Values Might Fluctuate A Bit, But On The Whole They
Were Always Going Up--Worth Holding On To, In A World Where There Was
Such A Lot Of Unreality, Cheap Building, Changing Fashions, Such A
"Here To-Day And Gone To-Morrow" Spirit.
Part III VII (Embassy) Pg 105The French Were Right,
Perhaps, With Their Peasant Proprietorship, Though He Had No Opinion Of
The French. One's Bit Of Land! Something Solid In It! He Had Heard
Peasant-Proprietors Described As A Pig-Headed Lot; Had Heard Young Mont
Call His Father A Pig-Headed Morning Poster--Disrespectful Young Devil.
Well, There Were Worse Things Than Being Pig-Headed Or Reading The
Morning Post. There Was Profond And His Tribe, And All These Labour
Chaps, And Loud-Mouthed Politicians, And "Wild, Wild Women"! A Lot Of
Worse Things! And, Suddenly, Soames Became Conscious Of Feeling Weak,
And Hot, And Shaky. Sheer Nerves At The Meeting Before Him! As Aunt
Juley Might Have Said--Quoting "Superior Dosset"--His Nerves Were "In A
Proper Fantigue." He Could See The House Now Among Its Trees, The House
He Had Watched Being Built, Intending It For Himself And This Woman,
Who, By Such Strange Fate, Had Lived In It With Another After All! He
Began To Think Of Dumetrius, Local Loans, And Other Forms Of
Investment. He Could Not Afford To Meet Her With His Nerves All
Shaking; He Who Represented The Day Of Judgment For Her On Earth As It
Was In Heaven; He, Legal Ownership, Personified, Meeting Lawless
Beauty, Incarnate. His Dignity Demanded Impassivity During This Embassy
Designed To Link Their Offspring, Who, If She Had Behaved Herself,
Would Have Been Brother And Sister. That Wretched Tune: "The Wild Wild
Women" Kept Running In His Head, Perversely, For Tunes Did Not Run
There As A Rule. Passing The Poplars In Front Of The House, He Thought:
'How They've Grown; I Had Them Planted!'
A Maid Answered His Ring.
"Will You Say--Mr. Forsyte, On A Very Special Matter."
If She Realised Who He Was, Quite Probably She Would Not See Him. 'By
George!' He Thought, Hardening As The Tug Came: 'It's A Topsyturvy
Affair!'
The Maid Came Back. Would The Gentleman State His Business, Please?
"Say It Concerns Mr. Jon," Said Soames.
And Once More He Was Alone In That Hall With The Pool Of Grey-White
Marble Designed By Her First Lover.
Part III VII (Embassy) Pg 106Ah! She Had Been A Bad Lot--Had
Loved Two Men, And Not Himself! He Must Remember That When He Came Face
To Face With Her Once More. And Suddenly He Saw Her In The Opening
Chink Between The Long Heavy Purple Curtains, Swaying, As If In
Hesitation; The Old Perfect Poise And Line, The Old Startled Dark-Eyed
Gravity; The Old Calm Defensive Voice: "Will You Come In, Please?"
He Passed Through That Opening. As In The Picture-Gallery And The
Confectioner's Shop, She Seemed To Him Still Beautiful. And This Was
The First Time--The Very First--Since He Married Her Five And Thirty
Years Ago, That He Was Speaking To Her Without The Legal Right To Call
Her His. She Was Not Wearing Black--One Of That Fellow's Radical
Notions, He Supposed.
"I Apologise For Coming," He Said Glumly; "But This Business Must Be
Settled One Way Or The Other."
"Won't You Sit Down?"
"No, Thank You."
Anger At His False Position, Impatience Of Ceremony Between Them,
Mastered Him, And Words Came Tumbling Out:
"It's An Infernal Mischance; I've Done My Best To Discourage It. I
Consider My Daughter Crazy, But I've Got Into The Habit Of Indulging
Her; That's Why I'm Here. I Suppose You're Fond Of Your Son."
"Devotedly."
"Well?"
"It Rests With Him."
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