desperate remedies-第9部分

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to　begin；　and　met　her　glance　by　an　ardent　fixed　gaze。　　An
involuntary　impulse　of　girlish　embarrassment　caused　her　to　give　a
vehement　pull　at　the　tiller…rope；　which　brought　the　boat's　head
round　till　they　stood　directly　for　shore。

His　eyes；　which　had　dwelt　upon　her　form　during　the　whole　time　of　her
look　askance；　now　left　her；　he　perceived　the　direction　in　which　they
were　going。

'Why；　you　have　completely　turned　the　boat；　Miss　Graye？'　he　said；
looking　over　his　shoulder。　　'Look　at　our　track　on　the　watera　great
semicircle；　preceded　by　a　series　of　zigzags　as　far　as　we　can　see。'

She　looked　attentively。　　'Is　it　my　fault　or　yours？'　she　inquired。
'Mine；　I　suppose？'

'I　can't　help　saying　that　it　is　yours。'

She　dropped　the　ropes　decisively；　feeling　the　slightest　twinge　of
vexation　at　the　answer。

'Why　do　you　let　go？'

'I　do　it　so　badly。'

'O　no；　you　turned　about　for　shore　in　a　masterly　way。　　Do　you　wish　to
return？'

'Yes；　if　you　please。'

'Of　course；　then；　I　will　at　once。'

'I　fear　what　the　people　will　think　of　usgoing　in　such　absurd
directions；　and　all　through　my　wretched　steering。'

'Never　mind　what　the　people　think。'　　A　pause。　　'You　surely　are　not
so　weak　as　to　mind　what　the　people　think　on　such　a　matter　as　that？'

Those　words　might　almost　be　called　too　firm　and　hard　to　be　given　by
him　to　her；　but　never　mind。　　For　almost　the　first　time　in　her　life
she　felt　the　charming　sensation；　although　on　such　an　insignificant
subject；　of　being　compelled　into　an　opinion　by　a　man　she　loved。
Owen；　though　less　yielding　physically；　and　more　practical；　would　not
have　had　the　intellectual　independence　to　answer　a　woman　thus。　　She
replied　quietly　and　honestlyas　honestly　as　when　she　had　stated　the
contrary　fact　a　minute　earlier

'I　don't　mind。'

'I'll　unship　the　tiller　that　you　may　have　nothing　to　do　going　back
but　to　hold　your　parasol；'　he　continued；　and　arose　to　perform　the
operation；　necessarily　leaning　closely　against　her；　to　guard　against
the　risk　of　capsizing　the　boat　as　he　reached　his　hands　astern。　　His
warm　breath　touched　and　crept　round　her　face　like　a　caress；　but　he
was　apparently　only　concerned　with　his　task。　　She　looked　guilty　of
something　when　he　seated　himself。　　He　read　in　her　face　what　that
something　wasshe　had　experienced　a　pleasure　from　his　touch。　　But
he　flung　a　practical　glance　over　his　shoulder；　seized　the　oars；　and
they　sped　in　a　straight　line　towards　the　shore。

Cytherea　saw　that　he　noted　in　her　face　what　had　passed　in　her　heart；
and　that　noting　it；　he　continued　as　decided　as　before。　　She　was
inwardly　distressed。　　She　had　not　meant　him　to　translate　her　words
about　returning　home　so　literally　at　the　first；　she　had　not　intended
him　to　learn　her　secret；　but　more　than　all　she　was　not　able　to
endure　the　perception　of　his　learning　it　and　continuing　unmoved。

There　was　nothing　but　misery　to　come　now。　　They　would　step　ashore；
he　would　say　good…night；　go　to　London　to…morrow；　and　the　miserable
She　would　lose　him　for　ever。　　She　did　not　quite　suppose　what　was　the
fact；　that　a　parallel　thought　was　simultaneously　passing　through　his
mind。

They　were　now　within　ten　yards；　now　within　five；　he　was　only　now
waiting　for　a　'smooth'　to　bring　the　boat　in。　　Sweet；　sweet　Love　must
not　be　slain　thus；　was　the　fair　maid's　reasoning。　　She　was　equal　to
the　occasionladies　areand　delivered　the　god

'Do　you　want　very　much　to　land；　Mr。　Springrove？'　she　said；　letting
her　young　violet　eyes　pine　at　him　a　very；　very　little。

'I？　　Not　at　all；'　said　he；　looking　an　astonishment　at　her　inquiry
which　a　slight　twinkle　of　his　eye　half　belied。　　'But　you　do？'

'I　think　that　now　we　have　come　out；　and　it　is　such　a　pleasant
evening；'　she　said　gently　and　sweetly；　'I　should　like　a　little
longer　row　if　you　don't　mind？　　I'll　try　to　steer　better　than　before
if　it　makes　it　easier　for　you。　　I'll　try　very　hard。'

It　was　the　turn　of　his　face　to　tell　a　tale　now。　　He　looked；　'We
understand　each　otherah；　we　do；　darling！'　turned　the　boat；　and
pulled　back　into　the　Bay　once　more。

'Now　steer　wherever　you　will；'　he　said；　in　a　low　voice。　　'Never　mind
the　directness　of　the　coursewherever　you　will。'

'Shall　it　be　Creston　Shore？'　she　said；　pointing　to　a　stretch　of
beach　northward　from　Budmouth　Esplanade。

'Creston　Shore　certainly；'　he　responded；　grasping　the　sculls。　　She
took　the　strings　daintily；　and　they　wound　away　to　the　left。

For　a　long　time　nothing　was　audible　in　the　boat　but　the　regular　dip
of　the　oars；　and　their　movement　in　the　rowlocks。　　Springrove　at
length　spoke。

'I　must　go　away　to…morrow；'　he　said　tentatively。

'Yes；'　she　replied　faintly。

'To　endeavour　to　advance　a　little　in　my　profession　in　London。'

'Yes；'　she　said　again；　with　the　same　preoccupied　softness。

'But　I　shan't　advance。'

'Why　not？　　Architecture　is　a　bewitching　profession。　　They　say　that
an　architect's　work　is　another　man's　play。'

'Yes。　　But　worldly　advantage　from　an　art　doesn't　depend　upon
mastering　it。　　I　used　to　think　it　did；　but　it　doesn't。　　Those　who
get　rich　need　have　no　skill　at　all　as　artists。'

'What　need　they　have？'

'A　certain　kind　of　energy　which　men　with　any　fondness　for　art
possess　very　seldom　indeedan　earnestness　in　making　acquaintances；
and　a　love　for　using　them。　　They　give　their　whole　attention　to　the
art　of　dining　out；　after　mastering　a　few　rudimentary　facts　to　serve
up　in　conversation。　　Now　after　saying　that；　do　I　seem　a　man　likely
to　make　a　name？'

'You　seem　a　man　likely　to　make　a　mistake。'

'What's　that？'

'To　give　too　much　room　to　the　latent　feeling　which　is　rather　common
in　these　days　among　the　unappreciated；　that　because　some　remarkably
successful　men　are　fools；　all　remarkably　unsuccessful　men　are
geniuses。'

'Pretty　subtle　for　a　young　lady；'　he　said　slowly。　　'From　that　remark
I　should　fancy　you　had　bought　experience。'

She　passed　over　the　idea。　　'Do　try　to　succeed；'　she　said；　with
wistful　thoughtfulness；　leaving　her　eyes　on　him。

Springrove　flushed　a　little　at　the　earnestness　of　her　words；　and
mused。　　'Then；　like　Cato　the　Censor；　I　shall　do　what　I　despise；　to
be　in　the　fashion；'　he　said　at　last。　。　。　　'Well；　when　I　found　all
this　out　that　I　was　speaking　of；　what　ever　do　you　think　I　did？　　From
having　already　loved　verse　passionately；　I　went　on　to　read　it
continually；　then　I　went　rhyming　myself。　　If　anything　on　earth　ruins
a　man　for　useful　occupation；　and　for　content　with　reasonable　success
in　a　profession　or　trade；　it　is　the　habit　of　writing　verses　on
emotional　subjects；　which　had　much　better　be　left　to　die　from　want
of　nourishment。'

'Do　you　write　poems　now？'　she　said。

'None。　　Poetical　days　are　getting　past　with　me；　according　to　the
usual　rule。　　Writing　rhymes　is　a　stage　people　of　my　sort　pass
through；　as　they　pass　through　the　stage　of　shaving　for　a　beard；　or
thinking　they　are　ill…used；　or　saying　there's　nothing　in　the　world
worth　living　for。'

'Then　the　difference　between　a　common　man　and　a　recognized　poet　is；
that　one　has　been　deluded；　and　cured　of　his　delusion；　and　the　other
continues　deluded　all　his　days。'

'Well；　there's　just　enough　truth　in　what　you　say；　to　make　the　remark
unbearable。　　However；　it　doesn't　matter　to　me　now　that　I　〃meditate
the　thankless　Muse〃　no　longer；　but。　。　。'　　He　paused；　as　if
endeavouring　to　think　what　better　thing　he　did。

Cytherea's　mind　ran　on　to　the　succeeding　lines　of　the　poem；　and
their　startling　harmony　with　the　present　situation　suggested　the
fancy　that　he　was　'sporting'　with　her；　and　brought　an　awkward
contemplativeness　to　her　face。

Springrove　guessed　her　thoughts；　and　in　answer　to　them　simply　said
'Yes。'　　Then　they　were　silent　again。

'If　I　had　known　an　Amaryllis　was　coming　here；　I　should　not　have　made
arrangements　for　leaving；'　he　resumed。

Such　levity；　superimposed　on　the　notion　of　'sport'；　was　intolerable
to　Cytherea；　for　a　woman　seems　never　to　see　any　but　the　serious　side
of　her　attachment；　though　the　most　devoted　lover　has　all　the　time　a
vague　and　dim　perception　that　he　is　losing　his　old　dignity　and
frittering　away　his　time。

'But　will　you　not　try　again　to　get　on　in　your　profession？　　Try　once
more；　do　try　once　more；'　she　murmured。　　'I　am　going　to　try　again。　　I
have　advertised　for　something　to　do。'

'Of　course　I　will；'　he　said；　with　an　eager　gesture　and　smile。　　'But
we　must　remember　that　the　fame　of　Christopher　Wren　himself　depended
upon　the　accident　of　a　fire　in　Pudding　Lane。　　My　successes　seem　to
come　very　slowly。　　I　often　think；　that　before　I　am　ready　to　live；　it
will　be　time　for　me　to　die。　　However；　I　am　tryingnot　for　fame　now；
but　for　an　easy　life　of　reasonable　comfort。'

It　is　a　melancholy　truth　for　the　middle　classes；　that　in　proportion
as　they　develop；　by　the　study　of　poetry　and　art；　their　capacity　for
conjugal　love　of　the　highest　and　purest　kind；　they　limit　the
possibility　of　their　being　able　to　exercise　itthe　very　act　putting
out　of　their　power　the　attainment　of　means　sufficient　for　marriage。
The　man　who　works　up　a　good　income　has　had　no　time　to　learn　love　to
its　solemn　extreme；　the　man　who　has　learnt　that　has　had　no　time　to
get　rich。

'And　if　you　should　failutterly　fail　to　get　that　reasonable
wealth；'　she　said　earnestly；　'don't　be　perturbed。　　The　truly　great
stand　upon　no　middle　ledge；　they　are　either　famous　or　unknown。'

'Unknown；'　he　said；　'if　their　ideas　have　been　allowed　to　flow　with　a
sympathetic　breadth。　　Famous　only　if　they　have　been　convergent　and
exclusive。'

'Yes；　and　I　am　afraid　from　that；　that　my　remark　was　but
discouragement；　wearing　the　dress　of　comfort。　　Perhaps　I　was　not
quite　right　in'

'It　depends　entirely　upon　what　is　meant　by　being　truly　great。　　But
the　long　and　the　short　of　the　matter　is；　that　men　must　stick　to　a
thing　if　they　want　to　succeed　in　itnot　giving　way　to　over…much
admiration　for　the　flowers　they　see　growing　in　other　people's
borders；　which　I　am　afraid　has　been　my　case。'　　He　looked　into　the
far　distance　and　paused。

Adherence　to　a　course　with　persistence　sufficient　to　ensure　success
is　possible　to　widely　appreciative　minds　only　when　there　is　also
found　in　them　a　powercommonplace　in　its　nature；　but　rare　in　such
combinationthe　power　of　assuming　to　conviction　that　in　the
outlying　paths　which　appear　so　m