the egoist-第99部分

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like　Laetitia's　look　at　Dr。　Middleton；　opportune：　enough　to　make　a
man　who　watched　as　Willoughby　did　a　fatalist　for　life：　the　shadow
of　a　difference　in　her　bearing　toward　Laetitia　sufficed　to　impute
acting　either　to　her　present　coolness　or　her　previous　warmth。
Better　still；　when　Dr。　Middleton　said：　〃So　we　leave　to…morrow；　my
dear；　and　I　hope　you　have　written　to　the　Darletons；〃　Clara　flushed
and　beamed；　and　repressed　her　animation　on　a　sudden；　with　one
grave　look；　that　might　be　thought　regretful；　to　where　Willoughby
stood。

Chance　works　for　us　when　we　are　good　captains。

Willoughby's　pride　was　high；　though　he　knew　himself　to　be　keeping
it　up　like　a　fearfully　dexterous　juggler；　and　for　an　empty　reward：
but　he　was　in　the　toils　of　the　world。

〃Have　you　written？　The　post…bag　leaves　in　half　an　hour；〃　he
addressed　her。

〃We　are　expected；　but　I　will　write；〃　she　replied：　and　her　not
having　yet　written　counted　in　his　favour。

She　went　to　write　the　letter。　Dr。　Corney　had　departed　on　his
mission　to　fetch　Crossjay　and　medicine。　Lady　Busshe　was　impatient
to　be　gone。　〃Corney；〃　she　said　to　Lady　Culmer；　〃is　a　deadly
gossip。〃

〃Inveterate；〃　was　the　answer。

〃My　poor　horses！〃

〃Not　the　young　pair　of　bays？〃

〃Luckily　they　are；　my　dear。　And　don't　let　me　hear　of　dining
to…night！〃　

Sir　Willoughby　was　leading　out　Mr。　Dale　to　a　quiet　room；
contiguous　to　the　invalid　gentleman's　bedchamber。　He　resigned　
him　to　Laetitia　in　the　hall；　that　he　might　have　the　pleasure　
of　conducting　the　ladies　to　their　carriage。

〃As　little　agitation　as　possible。　Corney　will　soon　be　back；〃　he
said；　bitterly　admiring　the　graceful　subservience　of　Laetitia's
figure　to　her　father's　weight　on　her　arm。

He　had　won　a　desperate　battle；　but　what　had　he　won？

What　had　the　world　given　him　in　return　for　his　efforts　to　gain　it？
Just　a　shirt；　it　might　be　said：　simple　scanty　clothing；　no　warmth。
Lady　Busshe　was　unbearable；　she　gabbled；　she　was　ill…bred；
permitted　herself　to　speak　of　Dr。　Middleton　as　ineligible；　no　loss
to　the　county。　And　Mrs。　Mountstuart　was　hardly　much　above　her；　with
her　inevitable　stroke　of　caricature：〃You　see　Doctor
Middleton's　pulpit　scampering　after　him　with　legs！〃　Perhaps　the
Rev。　Doctor　did　punish　the　world　for　his　having　forsaken　his
pulpit；　and　might　be　conceived　as　haunted　by　it　at　his　heels；　but
Willoughby　was　in　the　mood　to　abhor　comic　images；　he　hated　the
perpetrators　of　them　and　the　grinners。　Contempt　of　this　laughing
empty　world；　for　which　he　had　performed　a　monstrous　immolation；
led　him　to　associate　Dr。　Middleton　in　his　mind；　and　Clara　too；　with
the　desireable　things　he　had　sacrificeda　shape　of　youth　and
health；　a　sparkling　companion；　a　face　of　innumerable　charms；　and
his　own　veracity；　his　inner　sense　of　his　dignity；　and　his　temper；
and　the　limpid　frankness　of　his　air　of　scorn；　that　was　to　him　a
visage　of　candid　happiness　in　the　dim　retrospect。　Haply　also　he
had　sacrificed　more：　he　looked　scientifically　into　the　future：　he
might　have　sacrificed　a　nameless　more。　And　for　what？　he　asked
again。　For　the　favourable　looks　and　tongues　of　these　women　whose
looks　and　tongues　he　detested！

〃Dr　Middleton　says　he　is　indebted　to　me：　I　am　deeply　in　his
debt；〃　he　remarked。

〃It　is　we　who　are　in　your　debt　for　a　lovely　romance；　my　dear　Sir
Willoughby；〃　said　Lady　Busshe；　incapable　of　taking　a　correction；　
so　thoroughly　had　he　imbued　her　with　his　fiction；　or　with　the
belief　that　she　had　a　good　story　to　circulate。　Away　she　drove；
rattling　her　tongue　to　Lady　Culmer。

〃A　hat　and　horn；　and　she　would　be　in　the　old　figure　of　a　post…boy
on　a　hue…and…cry　sheet；〃　said　Mrs。　Mountstuart。　

Willoughby　thanked　the　great　lady　for　her　services；　and　she
complimented　the　polished　gentleman　on　his　noble　self…possession。
But　she　complained　at　the　same　time　of　being　defrauded　of　her
〃charmer〃　Colonel　De　Craye；　since　luncheon。　An　absence　of　warmth
in　her　compliment　caused　Willoughby　to　shrink　and　think　the
wretched　shirt　he　had　got　from　the　world　no　covering　after　all：　a
breath　flapped　it。

〃He　comes　to　me　to…morrow；　I　believe；〃　she　said；　reflecting　on　her
superior　knowledge　of　facts　in　comparison　with　Lady　Busshe；　who
would　presently　be　hearing　of　something　novel；　and　exclaiming：
〃So；　that　is　why　you　patronized　the　colonel！〃　And　it　was　nothing
of　the　sort；　for　Mrs。　Mountstuart　could　honestly　say　she　was　not
the　woman　to　make　a　business　of　her　pleasure。

〃Horace　is　an　enviable　fellow；〃　said　Willoughby；　wise　in　The　Book；
which　bids　us　ever；　for　an　assuagement　to　fancy　our　friend's
condition　worse　than　our　own；　and　recommends　the　deglutition　of
irony　as　the　most　balsamic　for　wounds　in　the　whole　moral
pharmacopoeia。

〃I　don't　know；〃　she　replied；　with　a　marked　accent　of　deliberation。

〃The　colonel　is　to　have　you　to　himself　to…morrow！〃

〃I　can't　be　sure　of　what　I　shall　have　in　the　colonel！〃

〃Your　perpetual　sparkler？〃

Mrs。　Mountstuart　set　her　head　in　motion。　She　left　the　matter
silent。

〃I'll　come　for　him　in　the　morning；〃　she　said；　and　her　carriage
whirled　her　off。　Either　she　had　guessed　it；　or　Clara　had　confided
to　her　the　treacherous　passion　of　Horace　De　Craye。

However；　the　world　was　shut　away　from　Patterne　for　the　night。



CHAPTER　XLVII

Sir　Willoughby　and　His　Friend　Horace　De　Craye

Willoughby　shut　himself　up　in　his　laboratory　to　brood　awhile　after
the　conflict。　Sounding　through　himself；　as　it　was　habitual　with
him　to　do；　for　the　plan　most　agreeable　to　his　taste；　he　came　on　a
strange　discovery　among　the　lower　circles　of　that　microcosm。　He
was　no　longer　guided　in　his　choice　by　liking　and　appetite：　he　had
to　put　it　on　the　edge　of　a　sharp　discrimination；　and　try　it　by　his
acutest　judgement　before　it　was　acceptable　to　his　heart：　and
knowing　well　the　direction　of　his　desire；　he　was　nevertheless
unable　to　run　two　strides　on　a　wish。　He　had　learned　to　read　the
world：　his　partial　capacity　for　reading　persons　had　fled。　The
mysteries　of　his　own　bosom　were　bare　to　him；　but　he　could
comprehend　them　only　in　their　immediate　relation　to　the　world
outside。　This　hateful　world　had　caught　him　and　transformed　him　to
a　machine。　The　discovery　he　made　was；　that　in　the　gratification
of　the　egoistic　instinct　we　may　so　beset　ourselves　as　to　deal　a
slaughtering　wound　upon　Self　to　whatsoever　quarter　we　turn。

Surely　there　is　nothing　stranger　in　mortal　experience。　The　man　was
confounded。　At　the　game　of　Chess　it　is　the　dishonour　of　our
adversary　when　we　are　stale…mated：　but　in　life；　cornbatting　the
world；　such　a　winning　of　the　game　questions　our　sentiments。

Willoughby's　interpretation　of　his　discovery　was　directed　by　pity：
he　had　no　other　strong　emotion　left　in　him。　He　pitied　himself；　and
he　reached　the　conclusion　that　he　suffered　because　he　was　active；
he　could　not　be　quiescent。　Had　it　not　been　for　his　devotion　to　his
house　and　name；　never　would　he　have　stood　twice　the　victim　of
womankind。　Had　he　been　selfish；　he　would　have　been　the　happiest　of
men！　He　said　it　aloud。　He　schemed　benevolently　for　his　unborn
young；　and　for　the　persons　about　him：　hence　he　was　in　a　position
forbidding　a　step　under　pain　of　injury　to　his　feelings。　He　was
generous：　otherwise　would　he　not　in　scorn　of　soul；　at　the　outset；
straight　off　have　pitched　Clara　Middleton　to　the　wanton　winds？　He
was　faithful　in　his　affection：　Laetitia　Dale　was　beneath　his　roof
to　prove　it。　Both　these　women　were　examples　of　his　power　of
forgiveness；　and　now　a　tender　word　to　Clara　might　fasten　shame　on
himsuch　was　her　gratitude！　And　if　he　did　not　marry　Laetitia；
laughter　would　be　devilish　all　around　himsuch　was　the　world's！
Probably　Vernon　would　not　long　be　thankful　for　the　chance　which
varied　the　monotony　of　his　days。　What　of　Horace？　Willoughby
stripped　to　enter　the　ring　with　Horace：　he　cast　away　disguise。
That　man　had　been　the　first　to　divide　him　in　the　all　but　equal
slices　of　his　egoistic　from　his　amatory　self：　murder　of　his
individuality　was　the　crime　of　Horace　De　Craye。　And　further；
suspicion　fixed　on　Horace　（he　knew　not　how；　except　that　The　Book
bids　us　be　suspicious　of　those　we　hate）　as　the　man　who　had
betrayed　his　recent　dealings　with　Laetitia。

Willoughby　walked　the　thoroughfares　of　the　house　to　meet　Clara　and
make　certain　of　her　either　for　himself；　or；　if　it　must　be；　for
Vernon；　before　he　took　another　step　with　Laetitia　Dale。　Clara
could　reunite　him；　turn　him　once　more　into　a　whole　and　an　animated
man；　and　she　might　be　willing。　Her　willingness　to　listen　to　Vernon
promised　it。　〃A　gentleman　with　a　tongue　would　have　a　chance〃；　Mrs。
Mountstuart　had　said。　How　much　greater　the　chance　of　a　lover！　For
he　had　not　yet　supplicated　her：　he　had　shown　pride　and　temper。　He
could　woo；　he　was　a　torrential　wooer。　And　it　would　be　glorious　to
swing　round　on　Lady　Busshe　and　the　world；　with　Clara　nestling
under　an　arm；　and　protest　astonishment　at　the　erroneous　and
utterly　unfounded　anticipations　of　any　other　development。　And　it
would　righteously　punish　Laetitia。

Clara　came　downstairs；　bearing　her　letter　to　Miss　Darleton。

〃Must　it　be　posted？〃　Willoughby　said；　meeting　her　in　the　hall。

〃They　expect　us　any　day；　but　it　will　be　more　comfortable　for
papa；〃　was　her　answer。　She　looked　kindly　in　her　new　shyness。

She　did　not　seem　to　think　he　had　treated　her　contemptuously　in
flinging　her　to　his　cousin；　which　was　odd。

〃You　have　seen　Vernon？〃

〃It　was　your　wish。〃

〃You　had　a　talk？〃

〃We　conversed。〃

〃A　long　one？〃

〃We　walked　some　distance。〃

〃Clara；　I　tried　to　make　the　best　arrangement　I　could。〃　

〃Your　intention　was　generous。〃

〃He　took　no　advantage　of　it？〃

〃It　could　not　be　treated　seriously。〃

〃It　was　meant　seriously。〃

〃There　I　see　the　generosity。〃

Willoughby　thought　this　encomium；　and　her　consent　to　speak　on　the
subject；　and　her　scarcely　embarrassed　air　and　richness　of　tone　in
speaking；　very　strange：　and　strange　was　her　taking　him　quite　in
earnest。　Apparently　she　had　no　feminine　sensation　of　the
unwontedness　and　the　absurdity　of　the　matter！

〃But；　Clara；　am　I　to　understand　that　he　did　not　speak　out？〃　

〃We　are　excellent　friends。〃

〃To　miss　it；　though　his　chance　were　the　smallest！〃

〃You　forget　that　it　may　not　wear　that　appearance　to　him。〃

〃He　spoke　not　one　word　of　himself？