Born in Exile. George Gissing

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СКАЧАТЬ some tea with me across the way, will you?' said the literary prizeman. 'I have a couple of hours to wait for my train.'

      'All right. I envy you that five-volume Spenser.'

      'I wish they had given me five authors I don't possess instead. I think I shall sell this.'

      Earwaker laughed as he said it—a strange chuckle from deep down in his throat. A comparison of the young men, as they walked side by side, showed that Peak was of better physical type than his comrade. Earwaker had a slight, unshapely body and an ill-fitting head; he walked with excessive strides and swung his thin arm nervously. Probably he was the elder of the two, and he looked twenty. For Peak's disadvantages of person, his studious bashfulness and poverty of attire were mainly responsible. With improvement in general health even his features might have a tolerable comeliness, or at all events would not be disagreeable. Earwaker's visage was homely, and seemed the more so for his sprouting moustache and beard.

      'Have you heard any talk about Walsh?' the latter inquired, as they walked on.

      Peak shrugged his shoulders, with a laugh.

      'No. Have you?'

      'Some women in front of me just now were-evidently discussing him. I heard "How shocking!" and "Disgraceful!"'

      Peak's eyes flashed, and he exclaimed in a voice of wrath:

      'Besotted idiots! How I wish I were in Walsh's position! How I should enjoy standing up before the crowd of fools and seeing their fear of me! But I couldn't keep it to myself; I should give in to the temptation to call them blockheads and jackasses.'

      Earwaker was amused at his friend's vehemence. He sympathised with it, but had an unyouthful sobriety in the expression of his feelings.

      'Most likely he despises them far too much to be disturbed by what they think of him. But, I say, isn't it desperately comical that one human being can hate and revile another because they think differently about the origin of the universe? Couldn't you roar with laughter when you've thought over it for a moment? "You be damned for your theory of irregular verbs!" is nothing to it.' And he uttered his croak of mirth, whilst Peak, with distorted features, laughed in rage and scorn.

      They had crossed the open space in front of the College buildings, and were issuing into the highway, when a voice very unlike those that were wont to sound within the academic precincts (or indeed in the streets of Kingsmill) made sudden demand upon Peak's attention.

      'Thet you, Godwin? Thoughts I, it must be 'im! 'Ow goes it, my bo-oy? You 'ardly reckonise me, I dessay, and I couldn't be sure as it was you till I'd 'ed a good squint at yer. I've jest called round at your lodgin's, and they towld me as you was at the Collige.'

      He who thus accosted the student, with the most offensive purity of Cockney accent, was a man of five-and-forty, dressed in a new suit of ready-made tweeds, the folding crease strongly marked down the front of the trousers and the coat sleeves rather too long. His face bore a strong impress of vulgarity, but at the same time had a certain ingenuousness, a self-absorbed energy and simplicity, which saved it from being wholly repellent; the brow was narrow, the eyes small and bright, and the coarse lips half hid themselves under a struggling reddish growth. In these lineaments lurked a family resemblance to Godwin Peak, sufficient to support a claim of kindred which at this moment might have seemed improbable. At the summons of recognition Godwin stood transfixed; his arms fell straight, and his head drew back as if to avoid a blow. For an instant he was clay colour, then a hot flush broke upon his cheeks.

      'I shan't be able to go with you,' he said, in a thick, abrupt voice, addressing Earwaker but not regarding him. 'Good-bye!'

      The other offered his hand and, without speaking, walked away.

      'Prize-dye at the Collige, they tell me,' pursued Godwin's relative, looking at a cluster of people that passed. 'What 'ave you took?'

      'One or two class-prizes,' replied the student, his eyes on the ground. 'Shall we walk to my lodgings?'

      'I thought you might like to walk me over the show. But pr'aps you're in a 'urry?'

      'No, no. But there's nothing particular to see. I think the lecture-rooms are closed by now.'

      'Oo's the gent as stands there?—the figger, I mean.'

      'Sir Job Whitelaw, founder of the College.'

      'Job, eh? And was you a-goin' 'ome to yer tea, Godwin?'

      'Yes.'

      'Well, then, look 'ere, 'spose we go to the little shop opposyte—nice little plyce it looks. I could do a cup o' tea myself, and we can 'ev a quite confab. It's a long time since we'ed a talk together. I come over from Twybridge this mornin'; slep' there last night, and saw yer mother an' Oliver. They couldn't give me a bed, but that didn't mike no matter; I put up at the Norfolk Harms—five-an-six for bed an' breakfast. Come along, my bo-oy; I stand treat.'

      Godwin glanced about him. From the College was approaching what seemed to be a formal procession; it consisted of Bruno Chilvers, supported on either hand by ladies and followed by an admiring train.

      'You had better come to my lodgings with me, uncle,' said the young man hurriedly, moving forward.

      'No, no; I won't be no expense to you, Godwin, bo-oy. And I 'ave a reason for wantin' to go to the little shop opposyte.'

      Already several collegians had passed, giving Peak a nod and scanning his companion; a moment's delay and Chilvers would be upon him. Without another word, Godwin moved across the broad street to the place of refreshment which his uncle had indicated, and whither Earwaker had preceded them. It was a pastry-cook's, occasionally visited by the alumni of Whitelaw. In the rear of the shop a little room offered seats and tables, and here, Godwin knew, Earwaker would be found.

      'Let us go up-stairs,' he said, leading to a side entrance. 'There's a quieter room.'

      'Right you are!'

      The uncle—his name was Andrew Peak—paused to make a survey of the premises. When he entered, his scrutiny of the establishment was close, and he seemed to reflect with interest upon all he saw. The upper room was empty; a long table exhibited knives and forks, but there were no signs of active business. Andrew pulled a bell-rope; the summons was answered by an asthmatic woman, who received an order for tea, toast, 'watercreases', and sundry other constituents of a modest meal.

      'Come 'ere often, Godwin?' inquired Andrew, as he stood by the window and mused.

      'Now and then, for a bun.'

      'Much custom from your show over the wye?'

      'Not so much as a better place would have.'

      'Young gents don't live at the Collige, they tell me?'

      'No, there's no residence.'

      'So naturally they want a plyce where they can 'ev a nibble, somewheres 'andy?'

      'Yes. We have to go further into the town for a decent dinner.'

      'Jest what I thought!' exclaimed Andrew, slapping his leg. 'With a establishment like that opposyte, there'd ought to be a medium-sized Spiers & Pond at this 'ere street corner for any man as knows 'is wye about. That's my idea, Godwin—see?'

      Peak had as yet given but half an ear to his relative's discourse; he had answered mechanically, and only now was constrained to serious attention by СКАЧАТЬ