pgw.adamselindistress-第11章

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　〃To　my　mind；〃　said　Lord　Marshmoreton；　ing　to　the　surface　once　more；　〃the　proper　attitude　to　adopt　on　occasions　like　the　present〃
　〃Please；〃　said　Lady　Caroline。
　Lord　Marshmoreton　stopped；　and　resumed　his　silent　munion　with　the　stuffed　bird。
　〃You　can't　stop　yourself　being　in　love；　Aunt　Caroline；〃　said　Maud。
　〃You　can　be　stopped　if　you've　somebody　with　a　level　head　looking　after　you。〃
　Lord　Marshmoreton　tore　himself　away　from　the　bird。
　〃Why；　when　I　was　at　Oxford　in　the　year　'87；〃　he　said　chattily；　〃I　fancied　myself　in　love　with　the　female　assistant　at　a　tobacconist　shop。　Desperately　in　love；　dammit。　Wanted　to　marry　her。　I　recollect　my　poor　father　took　me　away　from　Oxford　and　kept　me　here　at　Belpher　under　lock　and　key。　Lock　and　key；　dammit。　I　was　deucedly　upset　at　the　time；　I　remember。〃　His　mind　wandered　off　into　the　glorious　past。　〃I　wonder　what　that　girl's　name　was。　Odd　one　can't　remember　names。　She　had　chestnut　hair　and　a　mole　on　the　side　of　her　chin。　I　used　to　kiss　it；　I　recollect〃
　Lady　Caroline；　usually　such　an　advocate　of　her　brother's　researches　into　the　family　history；　cut　the　reminiscences　short。
　〃Never　mind　that　now。〃
　〃I　don't。　I　got　over　it。　That's　the　moral。〃
　〃Well；〃　said　Lady　Caroline；　〃at　any　rate　poor　father　acted　with　great　good　sense　on　that　occasion。　There　seems　nothing　to　do　but　to　treat　Maud　in　just　the　same　way。　You　shall　not　stir　a　step　from　the　castle　till　you　have　got　over　this　dreadful　infatuation。　You　will　be　watched。〃
　〃I　shall　watch　you；〃　said　Lord　Belpher　solemnly；　〃I　shall　watch　your　every　movement。〃
　A　dreamy　look　came　into　Maud's　brown　eyes。
　〃Stone　walls　do　not　a　prison　make　nor　iron　bars　a　cage；〃　she　said　softly。
　〃That　wasn't　your　experience；　Percy；　my　boy；〃　said　Lord　Marshmoreton。
　〃They　make　a　very　good　imitation；〃　said　Lady　Caroline　coldly；　ignoring　the　interruption。
　Maud　faced　her　defiantly。　She　looked　like　a　princess　in　captivity　facing　her　gaolers。
　〃I　don't　care。　I　love　him；　and　I　always　shall　love　him；　and　nothing　is　ever　going　to　stop　me　loving　himbecause　I　love　him；〃　she　concluded　a　little　lamely。
　〃Nonsense；〃　said　Lady　Caroline。　〃In　a　year　from　now　you　will　have　forgotten　his　name。　Don't　you　agree　with　me；　Percy？〃
　〃Quite；〃　said　Lord　Belpher。
　〃I　shan't。〃
　〃Deuced　hard　things　to　remember；　names；〃　said　Lord　Marshmoreton。　〃If　I've　tried　once　to　remember　that　tobacconist　girl's　name；　I've　tried　a　hundred　times。　I　have　an　idea　it　began　with　an　'L。'　Muriel　or　Hilda　or　something。〃
　〃Within　a　year；〃　said　Lady　Caroline；　〃you　will　be　wondering　how　you　ever　came　to　be　so　foolish。　Don't　you　think　so；　Percy？〃
　〃Quite；〃　said　Lord　Belpher。
　Lord　Marshmoreton　turned　on　him　irritably。
　〃Good　God；　boy；　can't　you　answer　a　simple　question　with　a　plain　affirmative？　What　do　you　meanquite？　If　somebody　came　to　me　and　pointed　you　out　and　said；　'Is　that　your　son？'　do　you　suppose　I　should　say　'Quite？'　I　wish　the　devil　you　didn't　collect　prayer　rugs。　It's　sapped　your　brain。〃
　〃They　say　prison　life　often　weakens　the　intellect；　father；〃　said　Maud。　She　moved　towards　the　door　and　turned　the　handle。　　Albert；　the　page　boy；　who　had　been　courting　earache　by　listening　at　the　keyhole；　straightened　his　small　body　and　scuttled　away。　　〃Well；　is　that　all；　Aunt　Caroline？　May　I　go　now？〃
　〃Certainly。　I　have　said　all　I　wished　to　say。〃
　〃Very　well。　I'm　sorry　to　disobey　you；　but　I　can't　help　it。〃
　〃You'll　find　you　can　help　it　after　you've　been　cooped　up　here　for　a　few　more　months；〃　said　Percy。
　A　gentle　smile　played　over　Maud's　face。
　〃Love　laughs　at　locksmiths；〃　she　murmured　softly；　and　passed　from　the　room。
　〃What　did　she　say？〃　asked　Lord　Marshmoreton；　interested。　〃Something　about　somebody　laughing　at　a　locksmith？　I　don't　understand。　Why　should　anyone　laugh　at　locksmiths？　Most　respectable　men。　Had　one　up　here　only　the　day　before　yesterday；　forcing　open　the　drawer　of　my　desk。　Watched　him　do　it。　　Most　interesting。　He　smelt　rather　strongly　of　a　damned　bad　brand　of　tobacco。　Fellow　must　have　a　throat　of　leather　to　be　able　to　smoke　the　stuff。　But　he　didn't　strike　me　as　an　object　of　derision。　From　first　to　last；　I　was　never　tempted　to　laugh　once。〃
　Lord　Belpher　wandered　moodily　to　the　window　and　looked　out　into　the　gathering　darkness。
　〃And　this　has　to　happen；〃　he　said　bitterly；　〃on　the　eve　of　my　twenty…first　birthday。〃
　
　CHAPTER　7。
　
　The　first　requisite　of　an　invading　army　is　a　base。　George；　having　entered　Belpher　village　and　thus　acplished　the　first　stage　in　his　foreward　movement　on　the　castle；　selected　as　his　base　the　Marshmoreton　Arms。　Selected　is　perhaps　hardly　the　right　word；　as　it　implies　choice；　and　in　George's　case　there　was　no　choice。　There　are　two　inns　at　Belpher；　but　the　Marshmoreton　Arms　is　the　only　one　that　offers　acmodation　for　man　and　beast；　assumingthat　is　to　saythat　the　man　and　beast　desire　to　spend　the　night。　The　other　house；　the　Blue　Boar；　is　a　mere　beerhouse；　where　the　lower　strata　of　Belpher　society　gather　of　a　night　to　quench　their　thirst　and　to　tell　one　another　interminable　stories　without　any　point　whatsoever。　But　the　Marshmoreton　Arms　is　a　fortable；　respectable　hostelry；　catering　for　the　village　plutocrats。　There　of　an　evening　you　will　find　the　local　veterinary　surgeon　smoking　a　pipe　with　the　grocer；　the　baker；　and　the　butcher；　with　perhaps　a　sprinkling　of　neighbouring　farmers　to　help　the　conversation　along。　　There　is　a　〃shilling　ordinary〃which　is　rural　English　for　a　cut　off　the　joint　and　a　boiled　potato；　followed　by　hunks　of　the　sort　of　cheese　which　believes　that　it　pays　to　advertise；　and　this　is　usually　well　attended。　On　the　other　days　of　the　week；　until　late　in　the　evening；　however；　the　visitor　to　the　Marshmoreton　Arms　has　the　place　almost　entirely　to　himself。
　It　is　to　be　questioned　whether　in　the　whole　length　and　breadth　of　the　world　there　is　a　more　admirable　spot　for　a　man　in　love　to　pass　a　day　or　two　than　the　typical　English　village。　The　Rocky　Mountains；　that　traditional　stamping…ground　for　the　heartbroken；　may　be　well　enough　in　their　way；　but　a　lover　has　to　be　cast　in　a　pretty　stem　mould　to　be　able　to　be　introspective　when　at　any　moment　he　may　meet　an　annoyed　cinnamon　bear。　In　the　English　village　there　are　no　such　obstacles　to　meditation。　It　bines　the　forts　of　civilization　with　the　restfulness　of　solitude　in　a　manner　equalled　by　no　other　spot　except　the　New　York　Public　Library。　Here　your　lover　may　wander　to　and　fro　unmolested；　speaking　to　nobody；　by　nobody　addressed；　and　have　the　satisfaction　at　the　end　of　the　day　of　sitting　down　to　a　capitally　cooked　chop　and　chips；　lubricated　by　golden　English　ale。
　Belpher；　in　addition　to　all　the　advantages　of　the　usual　village；　has　a　quiet　charm　all　its　own；　due　to　the　fact　that　it　has　seen　better　days。　In　a　sense；　it　is　a　ruin；　and　ruins　are　always　soothing　to　the　bruised　soul。　Ten　years　before；　Belpher　had　been　a　flourishing　centre　of　the　South　of　England　oyster　trade。　It　is　situated　by　the　shore；　where　Hayling　Island；　lying　athwart　the　mouth　of　the　bay；　forms　the　waters　into　a　sort　of　brackish　lagoon；　in　much　the　same　way　as　Fire　Island　shuts　off　the　Great　South　Bay　of　Long　Island　from　the　waves　of　the　Atlantic。　The　water　of　Belpher　Creek　is　shallow　even　at　high　tide；　and　when　the　tide　runs　out　it　leaves　glistening　mud　flats；　which　it　is　the　peculiar　taste　of　the　oyster　to　prefer　to　any　other　habitation。　For　years　Belpher　oysters　had　been　the　mainstay　of　gay　supper　parties　at　the　Savoy；　the　Carlton　and　Romano's。　Dukes　doted　on　them；　chorus　girls　wept　if　they　were　not　on　the　bill　of　fare。　And　then；　in　an　evil　hour；　somebody　discovered　that　what　made　the　Belpher　Oyster　so　particularly　plump　and　succulent　was　the　fact　that　it　breakfasted；　lunched　and　dined　almost　entirely　on　the　local　sewage。　There　is　but　a　thin　line　ever　between　popular　homage　and　execration。　We　see　it　in　the　case　of　politicians；　generals　and　prize…fighters；　and　oysters　are　no　exception　to　the　rule。　There　was　a　typhoid　scarequite　a　passing　and　unjustified　scare；　but　strong　enough　to　do　its　deadly　work；　and　almost　overnight　Belpher　passed　from　a　place　of　flourishing　industry　to　the　sleepy；　by…the…world…forgotten　spot　which　it　was　when　George　Bevan　discovered　it。　The　shallow　water　is　still　there；　the　mud　is　still　there；　even　the　oyster…beds　are　still　there；　but　not　the　oysters　nor　the　little　world　of　activity　which　had　sprung　up　around　them。　　The　glory　of　Belpher　is　dead；　and　over　its　gates　Ichabod　is　written。　But；　if　it　has　lost　in　importance；　it　has　gained　in　charm；　and　George；　for　one；　had　no　regrets。　To　him；　in　his　present　state　of　mental　upheaval；　Belpher　was　the　ideal　spot。
　It　was　not　at　first　that　George　roused　himself　to　the　point　of　asking　why　he　was　here　and　whatnow　that　he　was　herehe　proposed　to　do。　For　two　languorous　days　he　loafed；　sufficiently　occupied　with　his　thoughts。　He　smoked　long；　peaceful　pipes　in　the　stable…yard；　watching　the　ostlers　as　they　groomed　the　horses；　he　played　with　the　Inn　puppy；　bestowed　respectful　caresses　on　the　Inn　cat。　He　walked　down　the　quaint　cobbled　street　to　the　harbour；　sauntered　along　the　shore；　and　lay　on　his　back　on　the　little　beach　at　the　other　side　of　the　lagoon；　from　where　he　could　see　the　red　roofs　of　the　village；　while　the　imitation　waves　splashed　busily　on　the　stones；　trying　to　conceal　with　bustle　and　energy　the　fact　that　the　water　even　two　hundred　yards　from　the　shore　was　only　eighteen　inches　deep。　For　it　is　the　abiding　hope　of　Belpher　Creek　that　it　may　be　able　to　deceive　the　occasional　visitor　into　mistaking　it　for　the　open　sea。
　And　presently　the　tide　would　ebb。　The　waste　of　waters　became　a　sea　of　mud；　cheerfully　covered　as　to　much　of　its　surface　with　green　grasses。　The　evening　sun　struck　rainbow　colours　from　the　moist　softness。　Birds　sang　in　the　thickets。　And　George；　heaving　himself　up；　walked　back　to　the　friendly　cosiness　of　the　Marshmoreton　Arms。　And　the　remarkable　part　of　it　was　that　everything　seemed　perfectly　natural　and　sensible　to　him；　nor　had　he　any　particular　feeling　that　in　falling　in　love　with　Lady　Maud　Marsh　and　pursuing　her　to　Belpher　he　had　set　himself　anything　in　the　nature　of　a　hopeless　task。　Like　one　kissed　by　a　goddess　in　a　dream；　he　walked　on　air；　and；　while　one　is　walking　on　air；　it　is　easy　to　overlook　the　boulders　in　the　path。
　Consider　his　position；　you　faint…hearted　and　self…pitying　young　men　who　think　you　have　a　tough　row　to　hoe　just　because；　when　you　pay　your　evening　visit　with　the　pound　box　of　candy　under　your　arm；　you　see　the　handsome　sophomore　from　Yale　sitting　beside　her　on　the　porch；　playing　the　ukulele。　If　ever　the　world　has　turned　black　to　you　in　such　a　situation　and　the　moon　gone　in　behind　a　cloud；　think　of　George　Bevan　and　what　he　was　up　against。　You　are　at　least　on　the　spot。　You　can　at　least　put　up　a　fight。　If　there　are　ukuleles　in　the　world；　there　are　also　guitars；　and　tomorrow　it　may　be　you　and　not　he　who　sits　on　the　moonlit　porch；　it　may　be　he　and　not　you　who　arrives　late。　Who　knows？　　Tomorrow　he　may　not　show　up　till　you　have　finished　the　Bedouin's　Love　Song　and　are　annoying　the　local　birds；　roosting　in　the　trees；　with　Poor　Butterfly。
　What　I　mean　to　say　is；　you　are　on　the　map。　You　have　a　sporting　chance。　Whereas　George。。。　Well；　just　go　over　to　England　and　try　wooing　an　earl's　daughter　whom　you　have　only　met　onceand　then　without