the captives-第90部分

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e；　a　bird　clucking；　the　whisper　of　the　sea　stirring　the　warm　puddles　and　rivulets　across　the　damp　dim　road。　Warm；　yes；　warm　and　promising。　Lent　。　。　。　tiresome。　Long　services；　gloomy　sermons。　Rebuking　people；　scolding　themmade　them　angry；　did　them　no　good。　Then　Easter。　That　was　better。　Jolly　hymns。　〃Christ　is　risen！　Christ　is　risen！〃　Jolly　flowersprimroses；　crocuses（no；　they　were　earlier）。　They'll　have　forgotten　about　Maggie's　uncle　by　then。　Live　it　downthat's　the　thing。　Give　them　a　good　genial　sermon　this　Sunday。　Show　them　he　wasn't　caring　。　。　。　If　only　the　women　would　get　on　together。　Womenwomen。　How　difficult　they　were！　Yes；　Sunday　would　be　difficultfacing　them　all。　He　knew　what　they'd　be　thinking。　He　wanted　to　be　jolly　again。　Jolly。　That　was　the　thing。　Joking　with　Grace；　jolly　even　with　Maggie。　Jolly　with　his　congregation。　Jolly　with　God。　Why　wasn't　he　left　alone？　Had　been　until　Maggie　came。　Maggie　like　a　stone　flung　into　a　frosty　pool！　Broke　everything　up；　simply　because　she　was　unlike　other　people。　He'd　married　her　because　he　thought　he　could　make　her　into　what　he　pleased。　Well；　it　had　been　the　other　way。　Oh；　she　was　queer；　queer；　queer。

He　stopped；　his　large　boots　in　a　warm　puddle。　He　felt　the　warm　sun　hot　through　the　damp　mist。　He　wanted　to　take　her　into　his　arms；　to　hug　her；　above　all　to　feel　her　response。　To　feel　her　response；　that　was　what；　for　years　now；　he　had　been　wanting；　and　never　once　had　she　responded。　Never　once。　She　let　him　do　as　he　pleased；　but　she　was　passive。　She　didn't　love　him。　Grace　loved　him；　but　how　dull　Grace　was！　Dullit　was　all　dull！　Grace　was　dull；　Skeaton　was　dull；　the　church　was　dullGod　was　dull！　God？　Where　was　God？　He　looked　around。　There　was　no　God。　To　what　had　he　been　praying　all　these　years？　He　had　not　been　praying。　His　congregation　had　not　been　praying。　They　were　all　dead　and　God　was　dead　too。

He　looked　up　and　saw　that　his　boots　were　in　a　puddle。　He　walked　on。　For　a　moment；　the　mists　of　sloth　and　self…indulgence　that　had　for　years　obscured　his　vision　had　shifted　and　cleared；　but　even　as　he　moved　they　settled　down　and　resolved　themselves　once　more。　The　muscles　of　Paul's　soul　were　stiff　with　disuse。　Training　is　a　lengthy　affair　and　a　tiresome　business　to　the　stout　and　middle…aged。

The　hedges　gave　way　to　houses；　he　was　in　the　High　Street。　He　saw　then；　plastered　at　intervals　on　the　hoardings；　strange　phenomena。　It　was　the　colour　that　first　attracted　hima　bright　indecent　pink　with　huge　black　lettering。　Because　it　was　the　offseason　in　Skeaton　other　announcements　were　few。　All　the　more　prominent　then　the　following：

　THE　KINGSCOTE　BEETHEEN　WILL　HOLD　A　RELIGIOUS　FESTIVAL　IN　THE　TOWN　OF　SKEATON…ON…SEA　FROM　APRIL　10　TO　16。…SERVICES　10　A。M。；　3　P。M。　SPECIAL　SONG　SERVICE；　7。30　P。M。　DAILY　All　are　Cordially　Invited。　ADDRESSES　BY　REV。　JOHN　THURSTON。　REV。　WILLIAM　CRASHAW。　SISTER　AVIES。

Paul　stared　at　this　placard　with　horror　and　disgust　in　his　soul。　For　the　moment　Maggie　and　Grace　and　all　the　scandal　connected　with　them　was　forgotten。　This　was　terrible。　By　temperament；　tradition；　training；　he　loathed　and　feared　every　phase　of　religion　known　to　him　as　〃Methodistic。〃　Under　this　term　he　included　everything　that　was　noisy；　demonstrative；　ill…bred　and　melodramatic。　Once　when　an　undergraduate　at　Cambridge　he　had　gone　to　some　meeting　of　the　kind。　There　had　been　impromptu　prayers；　ghastly　pictures　of　hell…fire；　appeals　to　the　undergraduates　to　save　themselves　at　once　lest　it　be　too　late；　confessions　and　appeals　for　mercy。　The　memory　of　that　evening　still　filled　him　with　physical　nausea。　It　was　to　him　as　though　he　had　seen　some　gross　indecent　act　in　public　or　witnessed　some　horrible　cruelty。

Maggie　had　told　him　very　little　about　the　Chapel　and　its　doings；　and　he　had　shrunk　from　asking　her　any　questions；　but　everything　that　was　odd　and　unusual　in　her　behaviour　he　attributed　to　her　months　under　that　influence。　As　he　stared　at　the　flaunting　pink　sheet　he　felt　as　though　it　were　a　direct　personal　assault　on　himself　and　his　church。

And　yet　he　knew　that　he　could　do　nothing。　Once　before　there　had　been　something　of　the　kind　in　Skeaton　and　he　had　tried　with　others　to　stop　it。　He　had　failed　utterly；　the　civic　authorities　in　Skeaton　seemed　almost　to　approve　of　these　horrors。　He　looked　at　the　thing　once　more　and　then　turned　hack　towards　home。　Something　must　be　done　。　。　。　Something　must　he　done　。　。　。　　but；　as　on　so　many　earlier　occasions　in　his　life；　he　could　face　no　clear　course　of　action。

That　Saturday　evening　he　tried　to　change　his　sermon。　He　had　determined　to　deliver　a　very　fine　address　on　〃Brotherly　Love〃　and　then；　most　fortunately；　he　had　discovered　a　five…years'　old　sermon　that　would；　with　a　little　adaptation；　exactly　fit　the　situation。

To…night　he　was　sick　of　his　adaptation。　The　sermon　had　not　been　a　good　one　at　the　first；　and　now　it　was　a　tattered　thing　of　shreds　and　patches。　He　tried　to　add　to　it　some　sentences　about　the　approaching　〃Revival。〃　No　sentences　would　come。　What　a　horrible　fortnight　it　had　been！　He　looked　back　upon　his　district　visiting；　his　meetings；　his　choir…practices　with　disgust。　Something　had　come　in　between　himself　and　his　people。　Perhaps　the　relationship　had　never　been　very　real？　Founded　on　jollity。　An　eagerness　to　accept　anybody's　mood　for　one's　own　if　only　that　meant　jollity。　What　had　he　thought；　standing　in　the　puddle　that　afternoon？　That　they　were　all　dead；　he　and　his　congregation　and　God；　all　dead　together？　He　sank　into　his　chair；　picked　up　the　Church　Times；　and　fell　asleep。

Next　morning　as　he　walked　into　the　choir　this　extraordinary　impression　that　his　congregation　was　dead　persisted。　As　he　recited　the　〃Confession〃　he　looked　about　him。　There　was　Mr。　Maxse；　and　there　Miss　Purves。　Every　one　was　in　his　and　her　appointed　place；　old　Colonel　Rideout　with　the　purple　gills　not　kneeling　because　of　his　gout；　young　Edward　Walter；　heir　to　the　sugar　factory；　not　kneeling　because　he　was　lazy；　sporting　Mr。　Harper；　whose　golf　handicap　was　＋3；　not　kneeling　because　to　do　so　would　spoil　the　crease　of　his　trousers；　old　Mrs。　Dean　with　her　bonnet　and　bugles；　the　worst　gossip　in　Skeaton。　her　eyes　raised　to　heaven；　the　Quiller　girls　with　their　hard　red　colour　and　their　hard　bright　eyes；　Mr。　Fortinum；　senior；　with　his　County　Council　stomach　and　his　J。P。　neck；　the　dear　old　Miss　Fursleis　who　believed　in　God　and　lived　accordingly；　young　Captain　Trent；　who　believed　in　his　moustache　and　lived　accordingly　。　。　。　Oh　yes；　there　they　all　wereand　there；　too；　were　Grace　and　Maggie　kneeling　side　by　side。

Maggie！　His　eyes　rested　upon　her。　Her　face　suddenly　struck　him　as　being　of　extraordinary　beauty。　He　had　never　thought　her　beautiful　before；　very　plain；　of　course。　Every　one　knew　that　she　was　plain。　But　to…day　her　face　and　profile　had　the　simplicity；　the　purity；　the　courage　of　a　Madonna　in　one　of　the　old　picturesor；　rather；　of　one　of　those　St。　John　the　Baptist　boys　gazing　up　into　the　face　of　the　Christchild　as　it　lay　in　its　mother's　arms。　He　finished　the　〃Confession〃　hurriedlyMaggie's　face　faded　from　his　view；　he　saw　now　only　a　garden　of　hats　and　heads；　the　bright　varnished　colour　of　the　church　around　and　about　them　all。

He　gave　out　the　psalms；　there　was　a　rustle　of　leaves；　and　soon　shrill；　untrained　voices　of　the　choir…boys　were　screaming　the　chant　like　a　number　of　baby　steam…whistles　in　competition。

When　he　climbed　into　the　pulpit　he　tried　again　to　discover　Maggie's　face　as　he　had　already　seen　it。　He　could　not；　it　had　been；　perhaps；　a　trick　of　light　and；　in　any　case；　she　was　hidden　now　behind　the　stout　stolidity　of　Grace。　He　looked　around　at　the　other　faces　beneath　him　and　saw　them　settle　themselves　into　their　customary　expressions　of　torpor；　vacuity　and　expectation。　Very　little　expectation！　They　knew　well　enough；　by　this　time；　the　kind　of　thing　to　expect　from　him；　the　turn　of　phrase；　the　rise　and　fall　of　the　voice；　the　pause　dramatic；　the　whisper　expostulatory；　the　thrust　imperative；　the　smile　seductive。

He　had　often　been　told；　as　a　curate；　that　he　was　a　wonderful　preacher。　His　round　jolly　face；　his　beaming　smile；　a　certain　dramatic　gift；　had　helped　him。　〃He　is　so　human；〃　he　had　heard　people　say。　For　many　years　he　had　lived　on　that　phrase。　For　the　first　time　in　his　life；　this　morning　he　distrusted　his　gift。　He　was　out　of　touch　with　them　allbecause　they　were　dead；　killed　by　forms　and　repetitions　and　monotony。　〃We're　all　dead；　you　know；　and　I'm　dead　too。　Let's　close　the　doors　and　seal　this　church　up。　Our　day　is　over。〃　He　said　of　course　nothing　of　the　kind。　His　sermon　was　stupid；　halting　and　ineffective。

〃Naturally；〃　as　Colonel　Rideout　said　over　his　port　at　lunch；　〃when　a　feller's　wife's　uncle　has　just　hung　himself　in　public；　so　to　speak；　it　does　take　the　wind　out　of　you。　He　usen't　to　preach　badly　once。　Got　stale。　They　all　do。〃

As　Paul　dismissed　the　congregation　with　the　Blessing　he　felt　that　everything　was　over。　He　was　more　completely　miserable　than　he　had　ever　been。　He　had　in　fact　never　before　been　really　miserable　except　when　he　had　the　toothache。　And　now；　also；　the　custom　of　years　made　it　impossible　for　him　to　be　miserable　for　long。　He　had　had　no　real　talk　with　Maggie　since　the　inquest。　Maggie　came　into　his　study　that　afternoon。　Their　conversation　was　very　quiet　and　undemonstrative；　it　happened　to　be　one　of　the　most　important　conversations　in　both　their　lives；　and；　often　afterwards；　Paul　looked　back　to　it；　trying　to　retrace　in　it　the　sentences　and　movements　with　which　it　had　been　built　up。　He　could　never　recover　anything　very　much。　He　could　see　Maggie　sitting　in　a　way　that　she　had　on　the　edge　of　her　chair；　looking　at　him　and　looking　also　far　beyond　him。　He　knew　afterwards　that　this　was　the　last　moment　in　his　life　that　he　had　any　contact　with　her。　Like　a　witch；　like　a　ghost；　she　had　come　into　his　life；　like　a　witch；　like　a　ghost；　she　went　out　of　it；　leaving　him；　for　the　remainder　of　his　days；　a　haunted　man。

As　he　looked　at　her　he　realised　that　she　had　aged　in　this　last　fortnight。　Yes；　that　horrible　affair　had　taken　it　out　of　her。　She　seemed　to　have　recovered　self…control　at　some　strange　and　unnatural　costas　though　she　had　taken　some　potion　or　drug。

She　began　by　asking　Grace's　question：

〃Paul；　what　are　we　going　to　do？〃

But　she　did　not　irritate　him　as　Grace　had　done。　His　one　idea　was　to　hel