all roads lead to calvary-第38部分
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〃Nor would you；〃 he added； turning to her suddenly for the first time； 〃I know that。 But I should be afraidfor you。〃
She had listened to him without interrupting； and even now she did not speak for a while。
It was hard not to。 She wanted to tell him that he was all wrong at least； so far as she was concerned。 It。 was not the conqueror she loved in him； it was the fighter。 Not in the hour of triumph but in the hour of despair she would have yearned to put her arms about him。 〃Unpopularity； abuse； failure；〃 it was against the fear of such that she would have guarded him。 Yes； she had dreamed of leadership； influence； command。 But it was the leadership of the valiant few against the hosts of the oppressors that she claimed。 Wealth； honours！ Would she have given up a life of ease； shut herself off from society； if these had been her standards？ 〃Mesalliance！〃 Had the male animal no instinct； telling it when it was loved with all a woman's being； so that any other union would be her degradation。
It was better for him he should think as he did。 She rose and held out her hand。
〃I will stay with her for a little while；〃 she said。 〃Till I feel there is no more need。 Then I must get back to work。〃
He looked into her eyes； holding her hand； and she felt his body trembling。 She knew he was about to speak； and held up a warning hand。
〃That's all； my lad；〃 she said with a smile。 〃My love to you； and God speed you。〃
Mrs。 Phillips progressed slowly but steadily。 Life was returning to her； but it was not the same。 Out of those days there had come to her a gentle dignity； a strengthening and refining。 The face； now pale and drawn； had lost its foolishness。 Under the thin； white hair； and in spite of its deep lines； it had grown younger。 A great patience； a child…like thoughtfulness had come into the quiet eyes。
She was sitting by the window； her hands folded。 Joan had been reading to her； and the chapter finished； she had closed the book and her thoughts had been wandering。 Mrs。 Phillips's voice recalled them。
〃Do you remember that day； my dear；〃 she said； 〃when we went furnishing together。 And I would have all the wrong things。 And you let me。〃
〃Yes；〃 answered Joan with a laugh。 〃They were pretty awful； some of them。〃
〃I was just wondering；〃 she went on。 〃It was a pity； wasn't it？ I was silly and began to cry。〃
〃I expect that was it；〃 Joan confessed。 〃It interferes with our reason at times。〃
〃It was only a little thing； of course； that；〃 she answered。 〃But I've been thinking it must be that that's at the bottom of it all； and that is why God lets there be weak thingschildren and little animals and men and women in pain； that we feel sorry for； so that people like you and Robert and so many others are willing to give up all your lives to helping them。 And that is what He wants。〃
〃Perhaps God cannot help there being weak things；〃 answered Joan。 〃Perhaps He； too； is sorry for them。〃
〃It comes to the same thing； doesn't it； dear？〃 she answered。 〃They are there； anyhow。 And that is how He knows those who are willing to serve Him： by their being pitiful。〃
They fell into a silence。 Joan found herself dreaming。
Yes； it was true。 It must have been the beginning of all things。 Man； pitiless； deaf； blind； groping in the darkness； knowing not even himself。 And to her vision； far off； out of the mist； he shaped himself before her： that dim； first standard…bearer of the Lord； the man who first felt pity。 Savage； brutish； dumblonely there amid the desolation； staring down at some hurt creature； man or beast it mattered not； his dull eyes troubled with a strange new pain he understood not。
And suddenly； as he stooped； there must have come a great light into his eyes。
Man had heard God's voice across the deep； and had made answer。
CHAPTER XV
The years that followedtill； like some shipwrecked swimmer to whom returning light reveals the land； she felt new life and hopes come back to heralways remained in her memory vague； confused； a jumble of events； thoughts； feelings； without sequence or connection。
She had gone down to Liverpool； intending to persuade her father to leave the control of the works to Arthur； and to come and live with her in London； but had left without broaching the subject。 There were nights when she would trapse the streets till she would almost fall exhausted； rather than face the solitude awaiting her in her own rooms。 But so also there were moods when； like some stricken animal； her instinct was to shun all living things。 At such times his presence； for all his loving patience； would have been as a knife in her wound。 Besides； he would always be there； when escape from herself for a while became an absolute necessity。 More and more she had come to regard him as her comforter。 Not from anything he ever said or did。 Rather； it seemed to her； because that with him she felt no need of words。
The works； since Arthur had shared the management； had gradually been regaining their position； and he had urged her to let him increase her allowance。
〃It will give you greater freedom；〃 he had suggested with fine assumption of propounding a mere business proposition； 〃enabling you to choose your work entirely for its own sake。 I have always wanted to take a hand in helping things on。 It will come to just the same； your doing it for me。〃
She had suppressed a smile； and had accepted。 〃Thanks； Dad；〃 she had answered。 〃It will be nice； having you as my backer。〃
Her admiration of the independent woman had undergone some modification since she had come in contact with her。 Woman was intended to be dependent upon man。 It was the part appointed to him in the social scheme。 Woman had hers； no less important。 Earning her own living did not improve her。 It was one of the drawbacks of civilization that so many had to do it of necessity。 It developed her on the wrong linesagainst her nature。 This cry of the unsexed： that woman must always be the paid servant instead of the helper of manpaid for being mother； paid for being wife！ Why not carry it to its logical conclusion； and insist that she should be paid for her embraces？ That she should share in man's labour； in his hopes； that was the true comradeship。 What mattered it； who held the purse…strings！
Her room was always kept ready for her。 Often she would lie there； watching the moonlight creep across the floor； and a curious feeling would come to her of being something wandering； incomplete。 She would see as through a mist the passionate； restless child with the rebellious eyes to whom the room had once belonged； and later the strangely self…possessed girl with that impalpable veil of mystery around her who would stand with folded hands； there by the window； seeming always to be listening。 And she； too； had passed away。 The tears would come into her eyes； and she would stretch out yearning arms towards their shadowy forms。 But they would only turn upon her eyes that saw not； and would fade away。
In the day…time； when Arthur and her father were at the works； she would move through the high； square； stiffly…furnished rooms； or about the great formal garden； with its ordered walks and level lawns。 And as with knowledge we come to love some old； stern face our childish eyes had thought forbidding； and would not have it changed； there came to her with the years a growing fondness for the old； plain brick…built house。 Generations of Allways had lived and died there： men and women somewhat narrow； unsympathetic； a little hard of understanding； but at least earnest； sincere； seeking to do their duty in their solid； unimaginative way。 Perhaps there were other ways besides those of speech and pen。 Perhaps one did better； keeping to one's own people； the very qualities that separated us from them being intended for their need。 What mattered the colours； so that one followed the flag？ Somewhere； all roads would meet。
Arthur had to be in London generally once or twice a month； and it came to be accepted that he should always call upon her and 〃take her out。〃 She had lost the self…sufficiency that had made roaming about London by herself a pleasurable adventure； and a newly…born fear of what people were saying and thinking about her made her shy even of the few friends she still clung to； so that his visits grew to be of the nature of childish treats to which she found herself looking forwardcounting the days。 Also； she came to be dependent upon him for the keeping alight within her of that little kindly fire of self…conceit at which we warm our hands in wintry days。 It is not good that a young woman should remain for long a stranger to her mirrorabove her frocks； indifferent to the angle of her hat。 She had met the women superior to feminine vanities。 Handsome enough； some of them must once have been； now sunk in slovenliness； uncleanliness； in disrespect to womanhood。 It would not be fair to him。 The worshipper has his rights。 The goddess must remember always that she is a goddessmust pull herself together and behave as such； appearing upon her pedestal becomingly attired； seeing to it that in all things she is at her best； not allowing private grief to render her neglectful of this duty。
She had not told him of the Phillips episode。 But she felt instinctively that he knew。 It was always a little mysterious to her； his perception in matters pertaining to herself。
〃I want your love；〃 she said to him one day。 〃It helps me。 I used to think it was selfish of me to take it； knowing I could never return itnot that love。 But I no longer feel that now。 Your love seems to me a fountain from which I can drink without hurting you。〃
〃I should love to be with you always；〃 he answered； 〃if you wished it。 You won't forget your promise？〃
She remembered it then。 〃No；〃 she answered with a smile。 〃I shall keep watch。 Perhaps I shall be worthy of it by that time。〃
She had lost her faith in journalism as a drum for the rousing of the people against wrong。 Its beat had led too often to the trickster's booth； to the cheap…jack's rostrum。 It had lost its rallying power。 The popular Press had made the newspaper a byword for falsehood。 Even its supporters； while reading it bec
