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
Soames Turned And Forced Himself To Answer:
"Yes."
"Oh!" Cried Fleur. "What Did You--What Could You Have Done In Those Old
Days?"
The Breathless Sense Of Really Monstrous Injustice Cut The Power Of
Speech In Soames' Throat. What Had He Done! What Had They Done To Him!
And With Quite Unconscious Dignity He Put His Hand On His Breast, And
Looked At Her.
Part III VIII (The Dark Tune) Pg 114"It's A Shame!" Cried Fleur Passionately.
Soames Went Out. He Mounted, Slow And Icy, To His Picture-Gallery, And
Paced Among His Treasures. Outrageous! Oh! Outrageous! She Was Spoiled!
Ah! And Who Had Spoiled Her? He Stood Still Before The Goya Copy.
Accustomed To Her Own Way In Everything--Flower Of His Life! And Now
That She Couldn't Have It. He Turned To The Window For Some Air.
Daylight Was Dying, The Moon Rising, Gold Behind The Poplars! What
Sound Was That? Why! That Piano Thing! A Dark Tune, With A Thrum And A
Throb! She Had Set It Going--What Comfort Could She Get From That? His
Eyes Caught Movement Down There Beyond The Lawn, Under The Trellis Of
Rambler Roses And Young Acacia-Trees, Where The Moonlight Fell. There
She Was, Roaming Up And Down. His Heart Gave A Little Sickening Jump.
What Would She Do Under This Blow? How Could He Tell? What Did He Know
Of Her--He Had Only Loved Her All His Life--Looked On Her As The Apple
Of His Eye! He Knew Nothing--Had No Notion. There She Was--And That
Dark Tune--And The River Gleaming In The Moonlight!
'I Must Go Out,' He Thought. He Hastened Down To The Drawing-Room,
Lighted Just As He Had Left It, With The Piano Thrumming Out That
Waltz, Or Fox-Trot, Or Whatever They Called It In These Days, And
Passed Through On To The Verandah. Where Could He Watch, Without Her
Seeing Him? And He Stole Down Through The Fruit Garden To The
Boat-House. He Was Between Her And The River Now, And His Heart Felt
Lighter. She Was His Daughter, And Annette's--She Wouldn't Do Anything
Foolish; But There It Was--He Didn't Know! From The Boat-House Window
He Could See The Last Acacia And The Spin Of Her Skirt When She Turned
In Her Restless March. That Tune Had Run Down At Last--Thank Goodness!
He Crossed The Floor And Looked Through The Farther Window At The Water
Slow-Flowing Past The Lilies. It Made Little Bubbles Against Them,
Bright Where A Moon-Streak Fell. He Remembered Suddenly That Early
Morning When He Had Slept In This Boat-House After His Father Died, And
She Had Just Been Born--Nearly Nineteen Years Ago! Even Now He Recalled
The Unaccustomed World When He Woke Up, The Strange Feeling It Had
Given Him. That Day The Second Passion Of His Life Began--For This Girl
Of His, Roaming Under The Acacias. What A Comfort She Had Been To Him!
And All The Soreness And Sense Of Outrage Left Him. If He Could Make
Her Happy Again, He Didn't Care! An Owl Flew, Queeking, Queeking; A Bat
Flitted By; The Moonlight Brightened And Broadened On The Water.
Part III VIII (The Dark Tune) Pg 115How
Long Was She Going To Roam About Like This! He Went Back To The Window,
And Suddenly Saw Her Coming Down To The Bank. She Stood Quite Close, On
The Landing-Stage. And Soames Watched, Clenching His Hands. Should He
Speak To Her? His Excitement Was Intense. The Stillness Of Her Figure,
Its Youth, Its Absorption In Despair, In Longing, In--Itself. He Would
Always Remember It, Moonlit Like That; And The Faint Sweet Reek Of The
River And The Shivering Of The Willow Leaves. She Had Everything In The
World That He Could Give Her, Except The One Thing That She Could Not
Have Because Of Him! The Perversity Of Things Hurt Him At That Moment,
As Might A Fish-Bone In His Throat. Then, With An Infinite Relief, He
Saw Her Turn Back Towards The House. What Could He Give Her To Make
Amends? Pearls, Travel, Horses, Other Young Men--Anything She
Wanted--That He Might Lose The Memory Of Her Young Figure Lonely By The
Water! There! She Had Set That Tune Going Again! Why--It Was A Mania!
Dark, Thrumming, Faint, Travelling From The House. It Was As Though She
Had Said: "If I Can't Have Something To Keep Me Going, I Shall Die Of
This!" Soames Dimly Understood. Well, If It Helped Her, Let Her Keep It
Thrumming On All Night! And, Mousing Back Through The Fruit Garden, He
Regained The Verandah. Though He Meant To Go In And Speak To Her Now,
He Still Hesitated, Not Knowing What To Say, Trying Hard To Recall How
It Felt To Be Thwarted In Love. He Ought To Know, Ought To
Remember--And He Could Not! Gone--All Real Recollection; Except That It
Had Hurt Him Horribly. In This Blankness He Stood Passing His
Handkerchief Over Hands And Lips, Which Were Very Dry. By Craning His
Head He Could Just See Fleur, Standing With Her Back To That Piano
Still Grinding Out Its Tune, Her Arms Tight Crossed On Her Breast, A
Lighted Cigarette Between Her Lips, Whose Smoke Half Veiled Her Face.
The Expression On It Was Strange To Soames, The Eyes Shone And Stared,
And Every Feature Was Alive With A Sort Of Wretched Scorn And Anger.
Once Or Twice He Had Seen Annette Look Like That--The Face Was Too
Vivid, Too Naked, Not His Daughter's At That Moment. And He Dared Not
Go In, Realising The Futility Of Any Attempt At Consolation. He Sat
Down In The Shadow Of The Ingle-Nook. Monstrous Trick, That Fate Had
Played Him! Nemesis! That Old Unhappy Marriage! And In God's Name--Why?
How Was He To Know, When He Wanted Irene So Violently, And She
Consented To Be His, That She Would Never Love Him? The Tune Died And
Was Renewed, And Died Again, And Still Soames Sat In The Shadow,
Waiting For He Knew Not What. The Fag Of Fleur's Cigarette, Flung
Through The Window, Fell On The Grass; He Watched It Glowing, Burning
Itself Out.
Part III VIII (The Dark Tune) Pg 116The Moon Had Freed Herself Above The Poplars, And Poured
Her Unreality On The Garden. Comfortless Light, Mysterious,
Withdrawn--Like The Beauty Of That Woman Who Had Never Loved
Him--Dappling The Nemesias And The Stocks With A Vesture Not Of Earth.
Flowers! And His Flower So Unhappy! Ah, Why Could One Not Put Happiness
Into Local Loans, Gild Its Edges, Insure It Against Going Down? Light
Had Ceased To Flow Out Now From The Drawing-Room Window. All Was Silent
And Dark In There. Had She Gone Up? He Rose, And, Tiptoeing, Peered In.
It Seemed So! He Entered. The Verandah Kept The Moonlight Out; And At
First He Could See Nothing But The Outlines Of Furniture Blacker Than
The Darkness. He Groped Towards The Farther Window To Shut It. His Foot
Struck A Chair, And He Heard A Gasp. There She Was, Curled And Crushed
Into The Corner Of The Sofa! His Hand Hovered. Did She Want His
Consolation? He Stood, Gazing At That Ball Of Crushed Frills And Hair
And Graceful Youth, Trying To Burrow Its Way Out Of Sorrow. How Leave
Her There? At Last He Touched Her Hair, And Said: "Come, Darling,
Better Go To Bed. I'll Make It Up To You, Somehow." How Fatuous! But
What Could He Have Said?
Part III IX (Under The Oak-Tree) Pg 117
When Their Visitor Had Disappeared Jon And His Mother Stood Without
Speaking, Till He Said Suddenly: "I Ought To Have Seen Him Out." But
Soames Was Already Walking Down The Drive, And Jon Went Up-Stairs To
His Father's Studio, Not Trusting Himself To Go Back. The Expression On
His Mother's Face Confronting The Man She Had Once Been Married To, Had
Sealed A Resolution Growing Within Him Ever Since She Left Him The
Night Before. It Had Put The Finishing Touch Of Reality. To Marry Fleur
Would Be To Hit His Mother In The Face; To Betray His Dead Father! It
Was No Good! Jon Had The Least Resentful Of Natures. He Bore His
Parents No Grudge In This Hour Of His Distress.
Part III IX (Under The Oak-Tree) Pg 118For One So Young There
Was A Rather Strange Power In Him Of Seeing Things In Some Sort Of
Proportion. It Was Worse For Fleur, Worse For His Mother Even, Than It
Was For Him. Harder Than To Give Up Was To Be Given Up, Or To Be The
Cause Of Some One You Loved Giving Up For You. He Must Not, Would Not
Behave Grudgingly! While He Stood Watching The Tardy Sunlight, He Had
Again That Sudden Vision Of The World Which Had Come To Him The Night
Before. Sea On Sea, Country On Country, Millions On Millions Of People,
All With Their Own Lives, Energies, Joys, Griefs, And Suffering--All
With Things They Had To Give Up, And Separate Struggles For
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