the captives-第21章

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e　that　flashed　for　a　moment　and　then；　with　a　little　reassuring　sigh；　was　gone。

The　door　opened；　a　girl　looked　for　a　moment　into　the　street；　he　passed　inside。　Having　stumbled　up　the　dark　stairs；　pushed　back　their　private　entrance；　hung　up　his　coat　in　the　little　hall；　with　a　deliberate　effort　he　shook　off　the　suspicions　that　had；　during　the　last　moments；　troubled　him　and　prepared　to　meet　his　mother　and　sister。

Because　he　had　a　happy；　easy　and　affectionate　temperament　absence　always　gilded　his　friends　with　gifts　and　qualities　that　their　presence　only　too　often　denied。　His　years　abroad　had　given　him　a　picture　of　his　mother　and　sister　that　the　few　weeks　of　his　return　had　already　dimmed　and　obscured。　His　mother's　weekly　letters　had；　during　ten　long　years；　built　up　an　image　of　her　as　the　dearest　old　lady　in　the　world。　He　had　always；　since　a　child；　seen　her　in　a　detached　wayhis　deep　and　permanent　relations　had　been　with　his　fatherbut　those　letters；　of　which　he　had　now　a　deep　and　carefully　cherished　pile；　gave　him　a　most　charming　picture　of　her。　They　had　not　been　clever　nor　deep　nor　indeed　very　interesting；　but　they　had　been　affectionate　and　tender　with　all　the　gentleness　of　the　figure　that　he　remembered　sitting　in　its　lace　cap　beside　the　fire。

After　three　weeks　of　home　life　he　was　compelled　to　confess　that　he　did　not　in　the　least　understand　his　mother。　His　intuitions　about　people　were　not　in　fact　of　a　very　penetrating　character。

His　mother　appeared　to　all　her　world　as　a　〃sweet　old　lady；〃　but　even　Martin　could　already　perceive　that　was　not　in　the　least　what　she　really　was。　He　had　seen　her　old　hands　tremble　with　suppressed　temper　on　the　very　day　after　his　arrival；　he　had　seen　her　old　lips　white　with　anger　because　the　maid　had　brought　her　the　wrong　shawl。　Old　ladies　must　of　course　have　their　fancies；　but　his　mother　had　some　fixed　and　fierce　purpose　in　her　life　that　was　quite　beyond　his　powers　of　penetration。　It　might　of　course　have　something　to　do　with　her　attachment　to　his　father。　Attached　Martin　could　see　that　she　was；　but　at　the　same　time　completely　and　eternally　outside　her　husband's　spiritual　life。　That　might　have　been　perhaps　in　the　first　place　by　her　own　desireshe　did　not　want　〃to　be　bothered　with　all　that　nonsense。〃　But　certainly　all　these　years　with　him　had　worked　upon　her：　she　was　not　perhaps　so　sure　now　that　it　was　all　〃nonsense。〃　She　wanted；　it　might　be；　a　closer　alliance　with　him；　which　she　could　not　have　because　she　had　once　rejected　the　chance　of　it。　Martin　did　not　know；　he　was　aware　that　there　was　a　great　deal　going　on　in　the　house　that　he　did　not　fathom。　Amy；　his　sister；　knew。　There　was　an　alliance　between　his　mother　and　his　sister　deep　and　strong；　as　he　could　seehe　did　not　yet　know　that　it　was　founded　very　largely　on　dislike　and　fear　of　himself。

How　fantastic　these　theories　of　fire　and　passion　must　seem；　he　amused　himself　by　considering；　to　any　one　who　knew　his　mother　only　from　the　outside。　She　was　sitting　to…day　as　always　in　her　little　pink　and　white　chintz　drawing…room；　a　bright　fire　burning　and　a　canary　singing　in　a　cage　beside　the　window。　The　rest　of　the　house　was　ugly　and　strangely　uninhabited　as　though　the　Warlocks　had　merely　pitched　their　tents　for　a　night　and　were　moving　forward　to…morrow；　but　this　little　room；　close；　smelling　of　musk　and　sweet　biscuits　（a　silver　box　with　lemon…shaped　biscuits　in　it　stood　on　a　little　table　near　the　old　lady）；　with　its　pretty　pink　curtains；　its　canary；　and　its　heavy　and　softly　closing　door；　was　like　a　place　enclosed；　dedicated　to　the　world；　and　ruled　by　a　remorseless　spirit　of　comfort。

Mrs。　Warlock　was　only　sixty　years　of　age；　but　she　had；　a　number　of　years　ago；　declared　herself　an　invalid；　and　now　never；　unless　she　drove　on　a　very　fine　afternoon；　left　the　house。　Whether　she　were　truly　an　invalid　nobody　knew；　she　presented　certainly　a　most　healthy　appearance　with　her　shell…pink　cheeks；　her　snow…white　hair；　her　firm　bosom　rising　and　falling　with　such　gentle　regularity　beneath　the　tight　and　shining　black　silk　that　covered　it；　her　clear　bright　eyes　like　shining　glass。　She　always　sat　in　a　deep　arm…chair　covered　with　the　chintz　of　the　curtains　and　filled　with　plump　pillows　of　pink　silk。　A　white　filmy　shawl　was　spread　over　her　knees；　at　her　throat　was　a　little　bright　coquettish　blue　bow　that　added；　amazingly；　to　the　innocent　charm　of　her　old　age。　On　her　white　hair；　crinkled　and　arranged　as　though　it　were　some　ornament；　not　quite　a　wig　but　still　apart　from　the　rest　of　her　body；　she　wore　a　lace　cap。　She　was　fond　of　knitting；　she　made　warm　woollen　comforters　and　underclothing　for　the　children　of　the　poor。　She　was　immensely　fond　of　conversation；　being　of　an　inquisitive　nature。　But　above　all　was　she　fond　of　eating。　This　covetousness　of　food　had　grown　on　her　as　her　years　had　increased。　The　thought　of　foods　of　various　kinds　filled　many　hours　of　her　day；　and　the　desire　for　pleasant　things　to　eat　was　the　motive　of　many　of　her　most　deliberate　actions。　She　cherished　warmly　and　secretly　this　little　lust　of　hers。　None　of　the　family　was　aware　of　the　grip　that　the　desire　had　upon　her　nor　of　the　speed　with　which　the　desire　was　growing。　She　did　not　ask　directly　for　the　things　that　she　liked；　but　manoeuvred　with　little　plots　and　intrigues　to　obtain　them。　The　cook　in　the　Warlock　household　had　neither　art　nor　science　at　her　disposal；　but　as　it　happened　old　Mrs。　Warlock　lusted　after　very　simple　things。　She　loved　rice…pudding；　her　heart　beat　fast　in　her　breast　when　she　thought　of　the　brown　crinkly　skin　of　the　rich　warm　milk　of　a　true　rice…pudding；　also　she　loved　hot　buttered　toast；　very　buttery　so　that　it　soaked　your　fingers；　also　beef…steak　pudding　with　gravy　rich　and　dark　and　its　white　covering　thick　and　heavy；　she　also　loved　hot　and　sweet　tea　and　the　little　cakes　that　Amy　sometimes　bought；　red　and　yellow　and　pink；　held　in　white　paperalso　plum…　pudding；　which；　alas！　only　came　at　Christmastime　and　wedding…cake；　which　scarcely　ever　came　at　all。

This　vice；　of　which　she　was　almost　triumphantly　conscious　as　though　it　were　a　proof　of　her　enduring　vitality；　she　clutched　eagerly　to　herself。　She　did　not　wish　that　any　human　being　should　perceive　it。　Of　her　husband　she　was　not　afraidit　would　never　possibly　occur　to　him　that　food　was　of　importance　to　any　one；　Amy　might　discover　what　she　pleased；　she　was　in　strong　alliance　with　her　mother　and　would　never　betray　her。

Her　fear　was　of　Martin。　She　feared　very　deeply　his　influence　upon　her　husband。　During　Martin's　absence　she　and　Amy　had　managed　very　successfully　to　have　the　house　as　they　wished　it；　John　Warlock；　the　master；　had　been　too　deeply　occupied　with　the　affairs　of　the　soul　to　be　concerned　also　with　the　affairs　of　the　body。

She　had；　she　believed；　exercised　an　increasing　influence　over　him。　She　had　always　loved　him　with　a　fierce　and　selfish　love；　but　now；　when　he　was　nearly　seventy；　and　to　both　of　them　only　a　few　years　of　earthly　ambition　could　remain；　she　desired；　with　all　the　urgent　ferocity　of　a　human　being　through　whose　fingers　the　last　sands　of　his　opportunity　are　slipping；　to　seize　and　hold　and　have　him　entirely　hers。　He　had　always　eluded　her；　although　he　had　once　certainly　loved　her　with；　at　any　rate；　a　semblance　of　earthly　passion；　his　spiritual　life　had　always　come　between　them；　holding　him　from　her；　helping　him　to　escape　when　he　pleased；　tantalising；　sometimes　maddening　too。　She　was　certainly　now　not　so　ready　to　dismiss　that　spiritual　life　as　once　she　had　been。　She　was　herself　an　old　heathen；　for　herself　she　believed　in　nothing　but　her　earthly　appetites　and　desires；　but　for　him　and　for　others　there　might　be　something　in　it；　。　。　。　and　perhaps　some　day　some　dreadful　thing　would　occur　。　。　。　a　chariot　of　Fire　descend　upon　the　Chapel　and　some　sort　of　a　fierce　and　hostile　God　deliver　judgment；　she　only　hoped　that　she　would　be　dead　before　then。

Meanwhile　she　and　Amy　had；　undoubtedly；　during　these　last　years；　increased　their　influence　over　him。　He　was　not　aware　of　it；　but　as　he　was　growing　now　older　and　weakerhe　had　had　trouble　with　his　hearthe　inevitably　depended　more　upon　them。　The　old　lady　began　to　count　upon　her　triumph。　Then　came　Martin's　return。

She　had　forgotten　Martin。　It　is　true　that　she　had　written　to　him　every　week　during　his　lo