the little white bird-第8部分

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read　shame　in　the　sweet　face　of　Mary　A。　　Had　I　crossed　to　her

and　pronounced　her　name　I　think　it　would　have　felled　her；　and　yet

she　remained　there；　waiting。　　I；　too；　was　waiting　for　him；

wondering　if　this　was　the　man；　or　this；　or　this；　and　I　believe　I

clutched　my　stick。



Did　I　suspect　Mary？　　Oh；　surely　not　for　a　moment　of　time。　　But

there　was　some　foolishness　here；　she　was　come　without　the

knowledge　of　her　husband；　as　her　furtive　manner　indicated；　to　a

meeting　she　dreaded　and　was　ashamed　to　tell　him　of；　she　was　come

into　danger；　then　it　must　be　to　save；　not　herself　but　him；　the

folly　to　be　concealed　could　never　have　been　Mary's。　　Yet　what

could　have　happened　in　the　past　of　that　honest　boy　from　the

consequences　of　which　she　might　shield　him　by　skulking　here？

Could　that　laugh　of　his　have　survived　a　dishonour？　　The　open

forehead；　the　curly　locks；　the　pleasant　smile；　the　hundred

ingratiating　ways　which　we　carry　with　us　out　of　childhood；　they

may　all　remain　when　the　innocence　has　fled；　but　surely　the　laugh

of　the　morning　of　life　must　go。　　I　have　never　known　the　devil

retain　his　grip　on　that。



But　Mary　was　still　waiting。　　She　was　no　longer　beautiful；　shame

had　possession　of　her　face；　she　was　an　ugly　woman。　　Then　the

entanglement　was　her　husband's；　and　I　cursed　him　for　it。　　But

without　conviction；　for；　after　all；　what　did　I　know　of　women？　　I

have　some　distant　memories　of　them；　some　vain　inventions。　　But　of

menI　have　known　one　man　indifferent　well　for　over　forty　years；

have　exulted　in　him　（odd　to　think　of　it）；　shuddered　at　him；

wearied　of　him；　been　willing　（God　forgive　me）　to　jog　along　with

him　tolerantly　long　after　I　have　found　him　out；　I　know　something

of　men；　and；　on　my　soul；　boy；　I　believe　I　am　wronging　you。



Then　Mary　is　here　for　some　innocent　purpose；　to　do　a　good　deed

that　were　better　undone；　as　it　so　scares　her。　　Turn　back；　you

foolish；　soft　heart；　and　I　shall　say　no　more　about　it。　　Obstinate

one；　you　saw　the　look　on　your　husband's　face　as　he　left　you。　　It

is　the　studio　light　by　which　he　paints　and　still　sees　to　hope；

despite　all　the　disappointments　of　his　not　ignoble　ambitions。

That　light　is　the　dower　you　brought　him；　and　he　is　a　wealthy　man

if　it　does　not　flicker。



So　anxious　to　be　gone；　and　yet　she　would　not　go。　　Several　times

she　made　little　darts；　as　if　at　last　resolved　to　escape　from　that

detestable　street；　and　faltered　and　returned　like　a　bird　to　the

weasel。　　Again　she　looked　at　her　watch　and　kissed　it。



Oh；　Mary；　take　flight。　　What　madness　is　this？　　Woman；　be　gone。



Suddenly　she　was　gone。　　With　one　mighty　effort　and　a　last

terrified　look　round；　she　popped　into　a　pawnshop。



Long　before　she　emerged　I　understood　it　all；　I　think　even　as　the

door　rang　and　closed　on　her；　why　the　timid　soul　had　sought　a

street　where　she　was　unknown；　why　she　crept　so　many　times　past

that　abhorred　shop　before　desperately　venturing　in；　why　she

looked　so　often　at　the　watch　she　might　never　see　again。　　So

desperately　cumbered　was　Mary　to　keep　her　little　house　over　her

head；　and　yet　the　brave　heart　was　retaining　a　smiling　face　for

her　husband；　who　must　not　even　know　where　her　little　treasures

were　going。



It　must　seem　monstrously　cruel　of　me；　but　I　was　now　quite　light…

hearted　again。　　Even　when　Mary　fled　from　the　shop　where　she　had

left　her　watch；　and　I　had　peace　of　mind　to　note　how　thin　and　worn

she　had　become；　as　if　her　baby　was　grown　too　big　for　her　slight

arms；　even　then　I　was　light…hearted。　　Without　attempting　to

follow　her；　I　sauntered　homeward　humming　a　snatch　of　song　with　a

great　deal　of　fal…de…lal…de…riddle…o　in　it；　for　I　can　never

remember　words。　　I　saw　her　enter　another　shop；　baby　linen　shop　or

some　nonsense　of　that　sort；　so　it　was　plain　for　what　she　had

popped　her　watch；　but　what　cared　I？　　I　continued　to　sing　most

beautifully。　　I　lunged　gayly　with　my　stick　at　a　lamp…post　and

missed　it；　whereat　a　street…urchin　grinned；　and　I　winked　at　him

and　slipped　twopence　down　his　back。







I　presume　I　would　have　chosen　the　easy　way　had　time　been　given

me；　but　fate　willed　that　I　should　meet　the　husband　on　his

homeward　journey；　and　his　first　remark　inspired　me　to　a　folly。



〃How　is　Timothy？〃　he　asked；　and　the　question　opened　a　way　so

attractive　that　I　think　no　one　whose　dull　life　craves　for　colour

could　have　resisted　it。



〃He　is　no　more；〃　I　replied　impulsively。



The　painter　was　so　startled　that　he　gave　utterance　to　a　very　oath

of　pity；　and　I　felt　a　sinking　myself；　for　in　these　hasty　words　my

little　boy　was　gone；　indeed；　all　my　bright　dreams　of　Timothy；　all

my　efforts　to　shelter　him　from　Mary's　scorn；　went　whistling　down

the　wind。





VII



The　Last　of　Timothy



So　accomplished　a　person　as　the　reader　must　have　seen　at　once

that　I　made　away　with　Timothy　in　order　to　give　his　little　vests

and　pinafores　and　shoes　to　David；　and；　therefore；　dear　sir　or

madam；　rail　not　overmuch　at　me　for　causing　our　painter　pain。　

Know；　too；　that　though　his　sympathy　ran　free　I　soon　discovered

many　of　his　inquiries　to　be　prompted　by　a　mere　selfish　desire　to

save　his　boy　from　the　fate　of　mine。　　Such　are　parents。



He　asked　compassionately　if　there　was　anything　he　could　do　for

me；　and；　of　course；　there　was　something　he　could　do；　but　were　I

to　propose　it　I　doubted　not　he　would　be　on　his　stilts　at　once；

for　already　I　had　reason　to　know　him　for　a　haughty；　sensitive

dog；　who　ever　became　high　at　the　first　hint　of　help。　　So　the

proposal　must　come　from　him。　　I　spoke　of　the　many　little　things

in　the　house　that　were　now　hurtful　to　me　to　look　upon；　and　he

clutched　my　hand；　deeply　moved；　though　it　was　another　house　with

its　little　things　he　saw。　　I　was　ashamed　to　harass　him　thus；　but

he　had　not　a　sufficiency　of　the　little　things；　and　besides　my

impulsiveness　had　plunged　me　into　a　deuce　of　a　mess；　so　I　went　on

distastefully。　Was　there　no　profession　in　this　age　of　specialism

for　taking　away　children's　garments　from　houses　where　they　were

suddenly　become　a　pain？　　Could　I　sell　them？　　Could　I　give　them　to

the　needy；　who　would　probably　dispose　of　them　for　gin？　　I　told

him　of　a　friend　with　a　young　child　who　had　already　refused　them

because　it　would　be　unpleasant　to　him　to　be　reminded　of　Timothy；

and　I　think　this　was　what　touched　him　to　the　quick；　so　that　he

made　the　offer　I　was　waiting　for。



I　had　done　it　with　a　heavy　foot；　and　by　this　time　was　in　a　rage

with　both　him　and　myself；　but　I　always　was　a　bungler；　and；　having

adopted　this　means　in　a　hurry；　I　could　at　the　time　see　no　other

easy　way　out。　　Timothy's　hold　on　life；　as　you　may　have

apprehended；　was　ever　of　the　slightest；　and　I　suppose　I　always

knew　that　he　must　soon　revert　to　the　obscure。　　He　could　never

have　penetrated　into　the　open。　　It　was　no　life　for　a　boy。



Yet　now；　that　his　time　had　come；　I　was　loath　to　see　him　go。　　I

seem　to　remember　carrying　him　that　evening　to　the　window　with

uncommon　tenderness　（following　the　setting　sun　that　was　to　take

him　away）；　and　telling　him　with　not　unnatural　bitterness　that　he

had　got　to　leave　me　because　another　child　was　in　need　of　all　his

pretty　things；　and　as　the　sun；　his　true　father；　lapt　him　in　its

dancing　arms；　he　sent　his　love　to　a　lady　of　long　ago　whom　he

called　by　the　sweetest　of　names；　not　knowing　in　his　innocence

that　the　little　white　birds　are　the　birds　that　never　have　a

mother。　　I　wished　（so　had　the　phantasy　of　Timothy　taken

possession　of　me）　that　before　he　went　he　could　have　played　once

in　the　Kensington　Gardens；　and　have　ridden　on　the　fallen　trees；

calling　gloriously　to　me　to　look；　that　he　could　have　sailed　one

paper…galleon　on　the　Round　Pond；　fain　would　I　have　had　him　chase

one　hoop　a　little　way　down　the　laughing　avenues　of　childhood；

where　memory　tells　us　we　run　but　once；　on　a　long　summer…day；

emerging　at　the　other　end　as　men　and　women　with　all　the　fun　to

pay　for；　and　I　think　（thus　fancy　wantons　with　me　in　these

desolate　chambers）　he　knew　my　longings；　and　said　with　a　boy…like

flush　that　the　reason　he　never　did　these　things　was　not　that　he

was　afraid；　for　he　would　have　loved　to　do　them　all；　but　because

he　was　not　quite　like　other　boys；　and；　so　saying；　he　let　go　my

finger　and　faded　from　before　my　eyes　into　another　and　golden

ether；　but　I　shall　ever　hold　that　had　he　been　quite　like　other

boys　there　would　have　been　none　braver　than　my　Timothy。



I　fear　I　am　not　truly　brave　myself；　for　though　when　under　fire；

so　far　as　I　can　recollect；　I　behaved　as　others；　morally　I　seem　to

be　deficient。　　So　I　discovered　next　day　when　I　attempted　to　buy

David's　outfit；　and　found　myself　as　shy　of　entering　the　shop　as

any　Mary　at　the　pawnbroker's。　　The　shop　for　little　garments　seems

very　alarming　when　you　reach　the　door；　a　man　abruptly　become　a

parent；　and　thus　lost　to　a　finer　sense　of　the　proprieties；　may　be

able　to　stalk　in　unprotected；　but　apparently　I　could　not。　

Indeed；　I　have　allowed　a　repugnance　to　entering　shops　of　any

kind；　save　my　tailor's；　to　grow　on　me；　and　to　my　tailor's　I　fear

I　go　too　frequently。



So　I　skulked　near　the　shop　of　the　little　garments；　jeering　at

myself；　and　it　was　strange　to　me　to　reflect　at；　say；　three

o'clock　that　if　I　had　been　brazen　at　half…past　two　all　would　now

be　over。



To　show　what　was　my　state；　take　the　case　of　the　very　gentleman…

like　man　whom　I　detected　gazing　fixedly　at　me；　or　so　I　thought；

just　as　I　had　drawn　valiantly　near　the　door。　　I　sauntered　away；

but　when　I　returned　he　was　still　there；　which　seemed　conclusive

proof　that　he　had　smoked　my　purpose。　　Sternly　controlling　my

temper　I　bowed；　and　said　with　icy　politeness；　〃You　have　the

advantage　of　me；　sir。〃



〃I　beg　your　pardon；〃　said　he；　and　I　am　now　persuaded　that　my

words　turned　his　attention　to　me　for　the　first　time；　but　at　the

moment　I　was　sure　some　impertinent　meaning　lurked　behind　his

answer。



〃I　have　not　the　pleasure　of　your　acquaintance；〃　I　barked。



〃No　one　regrets　it　more　th