The Forsyte Saga John Galsworthy (hot novels to read TXT) đ
- Author: John Galsworthy
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âGoodbye, sir; and thank you! Iâm so fearfully bucked.â
âGoodbye,â he said; âdonât miss your train.â
He stood on the bottom step but three, whence he could see above the headsâ âthe silly hats and heads. They were in the car now; and there was that stuff, showering, and there went the shoe. A flood of something welled up in Soames, andâ âhe didnât knowâ âhe couldnât see!
XI The Last of the Old ForsytesWhen they came to prepare that terrific symbol Timothy Forsyteâ âthe one pure individualist left, the only man who hadnât heard of the Great Warâ âthey found him wonderfulâ ânot even death had undermined his soundness.
To Smither and Cook that preparation came like final evidence of what they had never believed possibleâ âthe end of the old Forsyte family on earth. Poor Mr. Timothy must now take a harp and sing in the company of Miss Forsyte, Mrs. Julia, Miss Hester; with Mr. Jolyon, Mr. Swithin, Mr. James, Mr. Roger, and Mr. Nicholas of the party. Whether Mrs. Hayman would be there was more doubtful, seeing that she had been cremated. Secretly Cook thought that Mr. Timothy would be upsetâ âhe had always been so set against barrel organs. How many times had she not said: âDrat the thing! There it is again! Smither, youâd better run up and see what you can do.â And in her heart she would so have enjoyed the tunes, if she hadnât known that Mr. Timothy would ring the bell in a minute and say: âHere, take him a halfpenny and tell him to move on.â Often they had been obliged to add threepence of their own before the man would goâ âTimothy had ever underrated the value of emotion. Luckily he had taken the organs for bluebottles in his last years, which had been a comfort, and they had been able to enjoy the tunes. But a harp! Cook wondered. It was a change! And Mr. Timothy had never liked change. But she did not speak of this to Smither, who did so take a line of her own in regard to heaven that it quite put one about sometimes.
She cried while Timothy was being prepared, and they all had sherry afterward out of the yearly Christmas bottle, which would not be needed now. Ah! dear! She had been there five-and-forty years and Smither three-and-forty! And now they would be going to a tiny house in Tooting, to live on their savings and what Miss Hester had so kindly left themâ âfor to take fresh service after the glorious pastâ âNo! But they would like just to see Mr. Soames again, and Mrs. Dartie, and Miss Francie, and Miss Euphemia. And even if they had to take their own cab, they felt they must go to the funeral. For six years Mr. Timothy had been their baby, getting younger and younger every day, till at last he had been too young to live.
They spent the regulation hours of waiting in polishing and dusting, in catching the one mouse left, and asphyxiating the last beetle so as to leave it nice, discussing with each other what they would buy at the sale. Miss Annâs workbox; Miss Juleyâs (that is Mrs. Juliaâs) seaweed album; the fire-screen Miss Hester had crewelled; and Mr. Timothyâs hairâ âlittle golden curls, glued into a black frame. Oh! they must have thoseâ âonly the price of things had gone up so!
It fell to Soames to issue invitations for the funeral. He had them drawn up by Gradman in his officeâ âonly blood relations, and no flowers. Six carriages were ordered. The will would be read afterward at the house.
He arrived at eleven oâclock to see that all was ready. At a quarter past old Gradman came in black gloves and crape on his hat. He and Soames stood in the drawing-room waiting. At half-past eleven the carriages drew up in a long row. But no one else appeared. Gradman said:
âIt surprises me, Mr. Soames. I posted them myself.â
âI donât know,â said Soames; âheâd lost touch with the family.â Soames had often noticed in old days how much more neighbourly his family were to the dead than to the living. But, now, the way they had flocked to Fleurâs wedding and abstained from Timothyâs funeral, seemed to show some vital change. There might, of course, be another reason; for Soames felt that if he had not known the contents of Timothyâs will, he might have stayed away himself through delicacy. Timothy had left a lot of money, with nobody in particular to leave it to. They mightnât like to seem to expect something.
At twelve oâclock the procession left the door; Timothy alone in the first carriage under glass. Then Soames alone; then Gradman alone; then Cook and Smither together. They started at a walk, but were soon trotting under a bright sky. At the entrance to Highgate Cemetery they were delayed by service in the Chapel. Soames would have liked to stay outside in the sunshine. He didnât believe a word of it; on the other hand, it was a form of insurance which could not safely be neglected, in case there might be something in it after all.
They walked up two and twoâ âhe and Gradman, Cook and Smitherâ âto the family vault. It was not very distinguished for the funeral of the last old Forsyte.
He took Gradman into his carriage on the way back to the Bayswater Road with a certain glow in his heart. He had a surprise in pickle for the old chap who had served the Forsytes four-and-fifty yearsâ âa treat that was entirely his doing. How well he remembered saying to Timothy the day after Aunt Hesterâs funeral: âWell, Uncle Timothy, thereâs Gradman. Heâs taken a lot of trouble for the family. What do you say to leaving him five thousand?â and his surprise, seeing the difficulty there had been in getting Timothy to leave anything, when Timothy had nodded. And now the old
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