the captives-第22部分

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majority　of　her　waking　hours　in　contemplation　of　that　subject。　But　she　had　never；　she　declared；　been；　in　all　her　life；　so　puzzled。　She　was　perfectly　frank。

〃But　it　looks　AWFUL；　Maggie　dear；　and　yesterday　in　the　shop　it　didn't　seem　so　bad；　although　that　old　pig　wouldn't　let　us　have　it　the　way　we　wanted。　It's　just　as　it　is　with　poor　mother；　who　gets　fatter　and　fatter；　diet　herself　as　she　may；　so　that　she　can　wear　nothing　at　all　now　that　looks　right；　and　is　only　really　comfortable　in　her　night…dress。　Of　course　you're　not　FAT；　Maggie　darling；　but　it's　your　figureeverything's　either　too　long　or　too　short　for　you。　You　don't　mind　my　speaking　so　frankly；　do　you？　I　always　say　one's　either　a　friend　or　not；　and　if　one's　a　friend　why　then　be　as　rude　as　you　please。　What's　friendship　for？〃

They　were；　in　fact；　the　greatest　possible　friends。　Maggie　had　never　possessed　a　girl…friend　before。　She　had；　in　the　first　days　of　the　acquaintance；　been　shy　and　very　silentshe　had　been　afraid　of　going　too　far。　But　soon　she　had　seen　that　she　could　not　go　too　far　and　could　not　say　too　much。　She　had　discovered　then　a　multitude　of　new　happinesses。

There　was　nothing；　she　found；　too　small；　too　unimportant　to　claim　Caroline's　interest。　Caroline　wished　to　know　everything；　and　soon　Maggie　disclosed　to　her　many　things　that　she　had　told　to　no　other　human　being　in　her　life　before。　It　could　not　honestly　be　said　that　Caroline　had　many　wise　comments　to　make　on　Maggie's　experiences。　Her　attitude　was　one　of　surprised　excitement。　She　was　amazed　by　the　most　ordinary　incidents　and　conversations。　She　found　Maggie's　life　quite　incredible。

〃You　must　stop　me；　Maggie；　if　I　hurt　your　feelings。　But　really！　。　。　。　Why；　if　poor　father　had　treated　me　like　that　I'd　have　gone　straight　out　of　the　house　and　never　come　back。　I　would　indeed　。　。　。　Well；　here　you　are　now；　dear；　and　we　must　just　see　each　other　as　often　as　ever　we　can！〃

They　made　a　strange　contrast；　Maggie　so　plain　in　her　black　dress　with　her　hair　that　always　looked　as　though　it　had　been　cut　short　like　a　boy's；　her　strong　rough　movements；　and　Caroline；　so　neat　and　shining　and　entirely　feminine　that　her　only　business　in　the　world　seemed　to　be　to　fascinate；　beguile　and　bewilder　the　opposite　sex。　Whatever　the　aunts　may　have　thought　of　this　new　friendship；　they　said　nothing。　Caroline　had　her　way　with　them　as　with　every　one　else。　Maggie　wondered　often　as　to　Aunt　Anne's；　real　thoughts。　But　Aunt　Anne　only　smiled　her　dim　cold　smile；　gave　her　cold　hand　into　the　girl's　warm　one　and　said；　〃Good　afternoon；　Caroline。　I　hope　your　father　and　mother　are　well。〃　〃They're　dears；　you　know；〃　Caroline　said　to　Maggie；　〃I　do　admire　your　Aunt　Anne；　she　keeps　to　herself　so。　I　wish　I　could　keep　to　myself；　but　I　never　was　able　to。　Poor　mother　used　to　say　when　I　was　quite　little；　'You'll　only　make　yourself　cheap；　Carrie；　if　you　go　on　like　that。　Don't　make　yourself　cheap；　dear。'　But　what　I　say　is；　one's　only　young　once　and　the　people　who　don't　want　one　needn't　have　one。〃

Nevertheless　there　were；　even　in　these　very　early　days；　directions　into　which　Maggie　did　not　follow　her　new　friend。　Young　as　she　was　in　many　things；　in　some　ways　she　was　very　old　indeed。　She　had　been　trained　in　another　school　from　Caroline；　she　felt　from　the　very　first　that　upon　certain　questions　her　lovely　friend　was　inexperienced；　foolish　and　dangerously　reckless。　On　the　question　of　〃men；〃　for　instance；　Maggie；　with　clear　knowledge　of　her　father　and　her　uncle；　refused　to　follow　Caroline's　light　and　easy　excursions。　Caroline　was　disappointed；　she　had　a　great　deal　to　say　on　the　subject　and　could　speak；　she　assured　Maggie；　from　a　vast　variety　of　experience：　〃Men　are　all　the　same。　What　I　say　is；　show　them　you　don't　care　'that'　about　them　and　they'll　come　after　you。　Not　that　I　care　whether　they　do　or　no。　Only　it's　fun　the　way　they　go　on。　You　just　try；　Maggie。〃

But　Maggie　had　her　own　thoughts。　They　were　not　imparted　to　her　friend。　Nothing　indeed　appeared　to　her　more　odd　than　that　Caroline　should　be　so　wise　in　some　things　and　so　foolish　in　others。　She　did　not　know　that　it　was　her　own　strange　upbringing　that　gave　her　independent　estimates　and　judgments。

The　second　influence　that；　during　these　first　weeks；　developed　her　soul　and　body　was；　strangely　enough；　her　aunt's　elderly　friend；　Mr。　Magnus。　If　Caroline　introduced　her　to　affairs　of　the　world；　Mr。　Magnus　introduced　her　to　affairs　of　the　brain　and　spirit。

She　had　never　before　known　any　one　who　might　be　called　〃clever。〃　Her　father　was　not；　Uncle　Mathew　was　not；　no　one　in　St。　Dreots　had　been　clever。　Mr。　Magnus；　of　course；　was　〃clever〃　because　he　wrote　books；　two　a　year。

But　to　be　an　author；　was　not　a　claim　to　Maggie's　admiration。　As　has　been　said　before；　she　did　not　care　for　reading；　and　considered　that　the　writing　of　books　was　a　second…rate　affair。　The　things　that　Mr。　Magnus　might　have　done　with　his　life　if　he　had　not　spent　it　in　writing　books！　She　regarded　him　with　the　kind　indulgence　of　an　elder　who　watches　a　child　brick…building。　He　very　quickly　discovered　her　attitude　and　it　amused　him。　They　became　the　most　excellent　friends　over　it。　She　on　her　side　very　quickly　discovered　the　true　reason　of　his　coming　so　often　to　their　house；　he　loved　Aunt　Anne。　At　its　first　appearance　this　discovery　was　so　strange　and　odd　that　Maggie　refused　to　indulge　it。　Love　seemed　so　far　from　Aunt　Anne。　She　greeted　Mr。　Magnus　from　the　chill　distance　whence　she　greeted　the　rest　of　the　worldshe　gave　him　no　more　than　she　gave　any　one　elseBut　Mr。　Magnus　did　not　seem　to　desire　more。　He　waited　patiently；　a　slightly　ironical　and　self…contemptuous　worshipper　at　a　shrine　that　very　seldom　opened　its　doors；　and　never　admitted　him　to　its　altar。　It　was　this　irony　that　Maggie　liked　in　him；　she　regarded　herself　in　the　same　way。　Their　friendship　was　founded　on　a　mutual　detachment。　It　prospered　exceedingly。

Maggie　soon　discovered　that　Mr。　Magnus　was　very　happy　to　sit　in　their　house　even　though　Aunt　Anne　was　not　present。　His　attitude　seemed　to　be　that　the　atmosphere　that　she　left　behind　her　was　enough　for　him　and　that　he　could　not；　in　justice；　expect　any　more。　Before　Maggie's　arrival　he　had　had　but　a　slender　excuse　for　his　continual　presence。　He　could　not　sit　in　the　empty　drawing…room　surveying　the　large　and　ominous　portrait　of　the　Cardinal　childhood；　quite　alone　save　for　Thomas；　without　seeming　a　very　considerable　kind　of　fool。　And　to　appear　that　in　the　eyes　of　Aunt　Anne；　who　already　regarded　mankind　in　general　with　pity；　would　be　a　mistake。

Now　that　Maggie　was　here　he　might　come　so　often　as　he　pleased。　Many　was　the　dark　afternoon　through　the　long　February　and　March　months　that　they　sat　together　in　the　dim　drawing…room；　Maggie　straining　her　eyes　over　an　attempted　reform　of　some　garment；　Mr。　Magnus　talking　in　his　mild　ironical　voice　with　his　large　moon…like　spectacles　fixed　upon　nothing　in　particular。

Mr。　Magnus　did　all　the　talking。　Maggie　fancied　that；　all　his　life；　he　had　persisted　in　the　same　gentle　humorous　fashion　without　any　especial　attention　as　to　the　wisdom；　agreement　or　even　existence　of　his　audience。　She　fancied　that　all　men　who　wrote　books　did　that。　They　had　to　talk　to　〃clear　their　ideas。〃　She　raised　her　eyes　sometimes　and　looked　at　him　as　he　sat　there。　His　shabby；　hapless　appearance　always　appealed　to　her。　She　knew　that　he　was；　in　reality；　anything　but　hapless；　but　his　clothes　never　fitted　him；　and　it　was　impossible　for　him　to　escape　from　the　Quixotic　embarrassments　of　his　thin　hair；　his　high　cheek…bones；　his　large　spectacles。　His　smile；　however；　gave　him　his　character；　when　he　smiledand　he　was　always　smilingyou　saw　a　man　independent；　proud；　wise　and　gentle。　He　was　not　a　fool；　Mr。　Magnus；　although　he　did　love　Aunt　Anne。

To　a　great　deal　that　he　said　Maggie　paid　but　little　attention；　it　was；　she　felt；　not　intended　for　her。　She　had；　in　all　her　relations　with　him；　to　struggle　against　the　initial　disadvantage　that　she　regarded　all　men　who　wrote　books　with　pity。　She　was　not　so　stupid　as　not　to　realise　that　there　were　a　great　many　fine　books　in　the　world　and　that　one　was　the　better　for　reading　them；　but；　just　because　there　were；　already；　so　many　fine　ones；　why　write　more　that　would　almost　certainly　be　not　so　fine？　He　tried　to　explain；　to　her　that　some　men　were　compelled　to　write　and　could　not　help　themselves。

〃I　wrote　my　first　book　when　I　was　nineteen。　One　morning　I　just　began　to　write；　and　then　it　was　very　easy。　Then　everything　else　was　easy。　The　first　publisher　to　whom　I　sent　it　accepted　it。　It　was　published　and　had　quite　a　success。　I　thought　I　was　made　for　life。　Anything　seemed　possible　to　one。　After　all；　so　far　as　one's　possibilities　went　one　was　on　a　level　with　any　oneShakespeare；　Dante；　any　one　you　like。　One　might　do　anything。　。　。　。　I　published　a　book　a　year；　after　that；　for　ten　yearsten　years　ten　books；　and　then　awoke　to　the　fact　that　I　was　nothing　at　all　and　would　never　be　anythingthat　I　would　never　write　like　Shakespeare；　and；　a　matter　of　equal　importance；　would　never　sell　like　Mrs。　Henry　Wood。　Not　that　I　wished　to　write　like　any　one　else。　I　had　a　great　idea　of　keeping　to　my　own　individuality；　but　I　saw　quite　clearly　that　what　I　had　in　myself　all　of　itwas　no　real　importance　to　any　one。　I　might　so　well　have　been　a　butcher　or　baker　for　all　that　it　mattered。　I　saw　that　I　was　one　of　those　unfortunate　peoplethere　are　many　of　themjust　in　between　the　artists　and　the　shopkeepers。　I　was　an　artist　all　right；　but　not　a　good　enough　one　to　count；　had　I　been　a　shopkeeper　I　might　have　sold　my　goods。〃

〃Well；　then；　here's　your　question；　Miss　Cardinal。　Why　on　earth　did　I　go　on　writing？　。　。　。　Simply　because　I　couldn't　help　myself。　Writing　was　the　only　thing　in　the　world　that　gave　me　happiness。　I　thought　too　that　there　might　be　people；　here　and　there；　unknown　to　me　who　cared　for　what　I　did。　Not　many　of　courseI　soon　discovered　that　outside　the　small　library　set　in　London　no　one　had　ever　heard　of　me。　When　I　was　younger　I　had　fancied　that　that　to　me　fiery　blazing　advertisement：　〃New　Novel　by　William　Magnus；　author　of　。　。　。〃　must　cause　men　to　stop　in　the　street；　exclaim；　rush　home　to　tell　their　wives；　'Do　you　know　Magnus'　new　novel　is　out？'now　I　realised　that　by　nine　out　of　every　ten　men　and　five　out　of　every　ten　women　the　literary　page　in　the　paper　is　turned　over　wi