The Complete Novels of J. M. Barrie - All 14 Books in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). J. M. Barrie

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СКАЧАТЬ most incisive of our satirists will not let himself degenerate into an illustration of Mr. Herbert Spencer's theory that man repeats himself, like history.

      "Mr. Labouchere, sir, to those of us who have grown up in your inspiration it would indeed be pitiful if this were so."

      Andrew's host turned nervously in his chair.

      Probably he wished that he had gone to church now.

      "You need not be alarmed," he said, with a forced smile.

      "You will die," cried Andrew, "before they send you to the House of Lords?"

      "In which case the gain would be all to those left behind."

      "No," said Andrew, who now felt that he had as good as gained the day; "there could not be a greater mistake.

      "Suppose it happened to-night, or even put it off to the end of the week; see what would follow.

      "The ground you have lost so far is infinitesimal. It would be forgotten in the general regret.

      "Think of the newspaper placards next morning, some of them perhaps edged with black; the leaders in every London paper and in all the prominent provincial ones; the six columns obituary in the 'Times'; the paragraphs in the 'World'; the motion by Mr. Gladstone or Mr. Healy for the adjournment of the House; the magazine articles; the promised memoirs; the publication of posthumous papers; the resolution in the Northampton Town Council; the statue in Hyde Park! With such a recompense where would be the sacrifice?"

      Mr. Labouchere rose and paced the room in great mental agitation.

      "Now look at the other side of the picture," said Andrew, rising and following him: "'Truth' reduced to threepence, and then to a penny; yourself confused with Tracy Turnerelli or Martin Tupper; your friends running when you looked like jesting; the House emptying, the reporters shutting their note-books as you rose to speak; the great name of Labouchere become a synonym for bore!"

      They presented a strange picture in that room, its owner's face now a greyish white, his supplicant shaking with a passion that came out in perspiration.

      With trembling hand Mr. Labouchere flung open the window. The room was stifling.

      There was a smell of new-mown hay in the air, a gentle breeze tipped the well-trimmed hedge with life, and the walks crackled in the heat.

      But a stone's throw distant the sun was bathing in the dimpled Thames.

      There was a cawing of rooks among the tall trees, and a church-bell tinkled in the ivy far away across the river.

      Mr. Labouchere was far away too.

      He was a round-cheeked boy again, smothering his kitten in his pinafore, prattling of Red Riding Hood by his school-mistress's knee, and guddling in the brook for minnows.

      And now—and now!

      It was a beautiful world, and, ah, life is sweet!

      He pressed his fingers to his forehead.

      "Leave me," he said hoarsely.

      Andrew put his hand upon the shoulder of the man he loved so well.

      "Be brave," he said; "do it in whatever way you prefer. A moment's suffering, and all will be over."

      He spoke gently. There is always something infinitely pathetic in the sight of a strong man in pain.

      Mr. Labouchere turned upon him.

      "Go," he cried, "or I will call the servants."

      "You forget," said Andrew, "that I am your guest."

      But his host only pointed to the door.

      Andrew felt a great sinking at his heart. They prate who say it is success that tries a man. He flung himself at Mr. Labouchere's feet.

      "Think of the public funeral," he cried.

      His host seized the bell-rope and pulled it violently.

      "If you will do it," said Andrew solemnly, "I promise to lay flowers on your grave every day till I die."

      "John," said Mr. Labouchere, "show this gentleman out."

      Andrew rose.

      "You refuse?" he asked.

      "I do."

      "You won't think it over? If I call again, say on Thursday—"

      "John!" said Mr. Labouchere.

      Andrew took up his hat. His host thought he had gone. But in the hall his reflection in a looking-glass reminded the visitor of something. He put his head in at the doorway again.

      "Would you mind telling me," he said, "whether you see anything peculiar about my neck?"

      "It seems a good neck to twist," Mr. Labouchere answered, a little savagely.

      Andrew then withdrew.

      Chapter VII

       Table of Contents

      This unexpected rebuff from Mr. Labouchere rankled for many days in Andrew's mind. Had he been proposing for the great statesman's hand he could not have felt it more. Perhaps he did not make sufficient allowance for Mr. Labouchere; it is always so easy to advise.

      But to rage at a man (or woman) is the proof that we can adore them; it is only his loved ones who infuriate a Scotchman.

      There were moments when Andrew said to himself that he had nothing more to live for.

      Then he would upbraid himself for having gone about it too hurriedly, and in bitter self-contempt strike his hand on the railings, as he rushed by.

      Work is the sovereign remedy for this unhealthy state of mind, and fortunately Andrew had a great deal to do.

      Gradually the wound healed, and he began to take an interest in Lord Randolph Churchill.

      Every day the Flying Scotchman shoots its refuse of clever young men upon London who are too ambitious to do anything.

      Andrew was not one of these.

      Seeking to carry off one of the greatest prizes in his profession, he had aimed too high for a beginner.

      When he realised this he apprenticed himself, so to speak, to the president, determined to acquire a practical knowledge of his art in all its branches. Though a very young man, he had still much to learn. It was only in his leisure moments that he gave way to dreams over a magnum opus.

      But when he did set about it, which must be before his period of probation closed, he had made up his mind to be thorough.

      The months thus passed quietly but not unprofitably in assisting the president, СКАЧАТЬ