The Essential W. Somerset Maugham Collection. W. Somerset Maugham

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СКАЧАТЬ I'm sure you would never interfere with what does not concern you," replied James, slowly.

      "Certainly not!" said Mrs. Jackson. "I come here because my conscience tells me to. What I wish to talk to you about concerns us all."

      "Shall I call my people? I'm sure they'd be interested."

      "I asked to see you alone, Captain Parsons," answered Mrs. Jackson, frigidly. "And it was for your sake. When one has to tell a person home-truths, he generally prefers that there should be no audience."

      "So you're going to tell me some home-truths, Mrs. Jackson?" said James, with a laugh. "You must think me very good-natured. How long have I had the pleasure of your acquaintance?"

      Mrs. Jackson's grimness did not relax.

      "One learns a good deal about people in a week."

      "D'you think so? I have an idea that ten years is a short time to get to know them. You must be very quick."

      "Actions often speak."

      "Actions are the most lying things in the world. They are due mostly to adventitious circumstances which have nothing to do with the character of the agent. I would never judge a man by his actions."

      "I didn't come here to discuss abstract things with you, Captain Parsons."

      "Why not? The abstract is so much more entertaining than the concrete. It affords opportunities for generalisation, which is the salt of conversation."

      "I'm a very busy woman," retorted Mrs. Jackson sharply, thinking that James was not treating her with proper seriousness. He was not so easy to tackle as she had imagined.

      "It's very good of you, then, to spare time to come and have a little chat with me," said James.

      "I did not come for that purpose, Captain Parsons."

      "Oh, I forgot--home-truths, wasn't it? I was thinking of Shakespeare and the musical glasses!"

      "Would you kindly remember that I am a clergyman's wife, Captain Parsons? I daresay you are not used to the society of such."

      "Pardon me, I even know an archdeacon quite well. He has a great gift of humour; a man wants it when he wears a silk apron."

      "Captain Parsons," said Mrs. Jackson, sternly, "there are some things over which it is unbecoming to jest. I wish to be as gentle as possible with you, but I may remind you that flippancy is not the best course for you to pursue."

      James looked at her with a good-tempered stare.

      "Upon my word," he said to himself, "I never knew I was so patient."

      "I can't beat about the bush any longer," continued the Vicar's lady; "I have a very painful duty to perform."

      "That quite excuses your hesitation."

      "You must guess why I have asked to see you alone."

      "I haven't the least idea."

      "Does your conscience say nothing to you?"

      "My conscience is very well-bred. It never says unpleasant things."

      "Then I'm sincerely sorry for you."

      James smiled.

      "Oh, my good woman," he thought, "if you only knew what a troublesome spirit I carry about with me!"

      But Mrs. Jackson saw only hardness of heart in the grave face; she never dreamed that behind those quiet eyes was a turmoil of discordant passions, tearing, rending, burning.

      "I'm sorry for you," she repeated. "I think it's very sad, very sad indeed, that you should stand there and boast of the sluggishness of your conscience. Conscience is the voice of God, Captain Parsons; if it does not speak to you, it behoves others to speak in its place."

      "And supposing I knew what you wanted to say, do you think I should like to hear?"

      "I'm afraid not."

      "Then don't you think discretion points to silence?"

      "No, Captain Parsons. There are some things which one is morally bound to say, however distasteful they may be."

      "The easiest way to get through life is to say pleasant things on all possible occasions."

      "That is not my way, and that is not the right way."

      "I think it rash to conclude that a course is right merely because it is difficult. Likewise an uncivil speech is not necessarily a true one."

      "I repeat that I did not come here to bandy words with you."

      "My dear Mrs. Jackson, I have been wondering why you did not come to the point at once."

      "You have been wilfully interrupting me."

      "I'm so sorry. I thought I had been making a series of rather entertaining observations."

      "Captain Parsons, what does your conscience say to you about Mary Clibborn?"

      James looked at Mrs. Jackson very coolly, and she never imagined with what difficulty he was repressing himself.

      "I thought you said your subject was of national concern. Upon my word, I thought you proposed to hold a thanksgiving service in Little Primpton Church for the success of the British arms."

      "Well, you know different now," retorted Mrs. Jackson, with distinct asperity. "I look upon your treatment of Mary Clibborn as a matter which concerns us all."

      "Then, as politely as possible, I must beg to differ from you. I really cannot permit you to discuss my private concerns. You have, doubtless, much evil to say of me; say it behind my back."

      "I presumed that you were a gentleman, Captain Parsons."

      "You certainly presumed."

      "And I should be obliged if you would treat me like a lady."

      James smiled. He saw that it was folly to grow angry.

      "We'll do our best to be civil to one another, Mrs. Jackson. But I don't think you must talk of what really is not your business."

      "D'you think you can act shamefully and then slink away as soon as you are brought to book? Do you know what you've done to Mary Clibborn?"

      "Whatever I've done, you may be sure that I have not acted rashly. Really, nothing you can say will make the slightest difference. Don't you think we had better bring our conversation to an end?"

      James made a movement towards the door.

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