a far country- 第7部分

〃It　is　thought　they　went　to　Spain；〃　replied　Mrs。　McAlery；　solemnly；　yet
not　without　a　certain　zest。　　〃Mr。　Jules　Hollister　will　not　have　her　name
mentioned　in　his　presence；　you　know。　　And　Whitcomb　chased　them　as　far　as
New　York　with　a　horse…pistol　in　his　pocket。　　The　report　is　that　he　got　to
the　dock　just　as　the　ship　sailed。　　And　then；　you　know；　he　went　to　live
somewhere　out　West；in　Iowa；　I　believe。〃

〃Did　he　ever　get　a　divorce？〃　Cousin　Bertha　inquired。

〃He　was　too　good　a　church　member；　my　dear；〃　my　mother　reminded　her。

〃Well；　I'd　have　got　one　quick　enough；　church　member　or　no　church　member；〃
declared　Cousin　Bertha；　who　had　in　her　elements　of　daring。

〃Not　that　I　mean　for　a　moment　to　excuse　her；〃　Mrs。　McAlery　put　in；　〃but
Edward　Whitcomb　did　have　a　frightful　temper；　and　he　was　awfully　strict
with　her；　and　he　was　old　enough；　anyhow；　to　be　her　father。　　Grace
Hollister　was　the　last　woman　in　the　world　I　should　have　suspected　of
doing　so　hideous　a　thing。　　She　was　so　sweet　and　simple。〃

〃Jennings　was　very　attractive；〃　said　my　Cousin　Bertha。　　〃I　don't　think　I
ever　saw　a　handsomer　man。　　Now；　if　he　had　looked　at　me〃

The　sentence　was　never　finished；　for　at　this　crucial　moment　I　dropped　a
grammar。。。。

I　had　heard　enough；　however；　to　excite　my　curiosity　to　the　highest　pitch。
And　that　evening；　when　I　came　in　at　five　o'clock　to　study；　I　asked　my
mother　what　had　become　of　Gene　Hollister's　aunt。

〃She　went　away；　Hugh；〃　replied　my　mother；　looking　greatly　troubled。

〃Why？〃　I　persisted。

〃It　is　something　you　are　too　young　to　understand。〃

Of　course　I　started　an　investigation；　and　the　next　day　at　school　I　asked
the　question　of　Gene　Hollister　himself；　only　to　discover　that　he　believed
his　aunt　to　be　dead！　　And　that　night　he　asked　his　mother　if　his　Aunt
Grace　were　really　alive；　after　all？　　Whereupon　complications　and
explanations　ensued　between　our　parents；　of　which　we　saw　only　the　surface
signs。。。。　　My　father　accused　me　of　eavesdropping　（which　I　denied）；　and
sentenced　me　to　an　afternoon　of　solitary　confinement　for　repeating
something　which　I　had　heard　in　private。　　I　have　reason　to　believe　that　my
mother　was　also　reprimanded。

It　must　not　be　supposed　that　I　permitted　the　matter　to　rest。　　In　addition
to　Grits　Jarvis；　there　was　another　contraband　among　my　acquaintances；
namely；　Alec　Pound；　the　scrape…grace　son　of　the　Reverend　Doctor　Pound。
Alec　had　an　encyclopaedic　mind；　especially　well　stocked　with　the　kind　of
knowledge　I　now　desired；　first　and　last　he　taught　me　much；　which　I　would
better　have　got　in　another　way。　　To　him　I　appealed　and　got　the　story；　my
worst　suspicions　being　confirmed。　　Mrs。　Whitcomb's　house　had　been　across
the　alley　from　that　of　Mr。　Jennings；　but　no　one　knew　that　anything　was
〃going　on；〃　though　there　had　been　signals　from　the　windowsthe
neighbours　afterwards　remembered。。。。

I　listened　shudderingly。

〃But；〃　I　cried；　〃they　were　both　married！〃

〃What　difference　does　that　make　when　you　love　a　woman？〃　Alec　replied
grandly。　　〃I　could　tell　you　much　worse　things　than　that。〃

This　he　proceeded　to　do。　　Fascinated；　I　listened　with　a　sickening
sensation。　　It　was　a　mild　afternoon　in　spring；　and　we　stood　in　the　deep
limestone　gutter　in　front　of　the　parsonage；　a　little　Gothic　wooden　house
set　in　a　gloomy　yard。

〃I　thought；〃　said　I；　〃that　people　couldn't　love　any　more　after　they　were
married；　except　each　other。〃

Alec　looked　at　me　pityingly。

〃You'll　get　over　that　notion；〃　he　assured　me。

Thus　another　ingredient　entered　my　character。　　Denied　its　food　at　home；
good　food；　my　soul　eagerly　consumed　and　made　part　of　itself　the
fermenting　stuff　that　Alec　Pound　so　willing　distributed。　　And　it　was
fermenting　stuff。　　Let　us　see　what　it　did　to　me。　　Working　slowly　but
surely；　it　changed　for　me　the　dawning　mystery　of　sex　into　an　evil　instead
of　a　holy　one。　　The　knowledge　of　the　tragedy　of　Grace　Hollister　started
me　to　seeking　restlessly；　on　bookshelves　and　elsewhere；　for　a　secret　that
forever　eluded　me；　and　forever　led　me　on。　　The　word　fermenting　aptly
describes　the　process　begun；　suggesting　as　it　does　something　closed　up；
away　from　air　and　sunlight；　continually　working　in　secret；　engendering
forces　that　fascinated；　yet　inspired　me　with　fear。　　Undoubtedly　this
secretiveness　of　our　elders　was　due　to　the　pernicious　dualism　of　their
orthodox　Christianity；　in　which　love　was　carnal　and　therefore　evil；　and
the　flesh　not　the　gracious　soil　of　the　spirit；　but　something　to　be
deplored　and　condemned；　exorcised　and　transformed　by　the　miracle　of
grace。　　Now　love　had　become　a　terrible　power　（gripping　me）　whose
enchantment　drove　men　and　women　from　home　and　friends　and　kindred　to　the
uttermost　parts　of　the　earth。。。。

It　was　long　before　I　got　to　sleep　that　night　after　my　talk　with　Alec
Pound。　　I　alternated　between　the　horror　and　the　romance　of　the　story　I
had　heard；　supplying　for　myself　the　details　he　had　omitted：　I　beheld　the
signals　from　the　windows；　the　clandestine　meetings；　the　sudden　and
desperate　flight。　　And　to　think　that　all　this　could　have　happened　in　our
city　not　five　blocks　from　where　I　lay！

My　consternation　and　horror　were　concentrated　on　the　man；and　yet　I
recall　a　curious　bifurcation。　　Instead　of　experiencing　that　automatic
righteous　indignation　which　my　father　and　mother　had　felt；　which　had
animated　old　Mr。　Jules　Hollister　when　he　had　sternly　forbidden　his
daughter's　name　to　be　mentioned　in　his　presence；　which　had　made　these
people　outcasts；　there　welled　up　within　me　an　intense　sympathy　and　pity。
By　an　instinctive　process　somehow　linked　with　other　experiences；　I　seemed
to　be　able　to　enter　into　the　feelings　of　these　two　outcasts；　to
understand　the　fearful　yet　fascinating　nature　of　the　impulse　that　had　led
them　to　elude　the　vigilance　and　probity　of　a　world　with　which　I　myself
was　at　odds。　　I　pictured　them　in　a　remote　land；　shunned　by　mankind。　　Was
there　something　within　me　that　might　eventually　draw　me　to　do　likewise？
The　desire　in　me　to　which　my　father　had　referred；　which　would　brook　no
opposition；　which　twisted　and　squirmed　until　it　found　its　way　to　its
object？　　I　recalled　the　words　of　Jarvis；　the　carpenter；　that　if　I　ever
set　my　heart　on　another　man's　wife；　God　help　him。　　God　help　me！

A　wicked　man！　　I　had　never　beheld　the　handsome　and　fascinating　Mr。
Jennings；　but　I　visualised　him　now；　dark；　like　all　villains；　with　a　black
moustache　and　snapping　black　eyes。　　He　carried　a　cane。　　I　always
associated　canes　with　villains。　　Whereupon　I　arose；　groped　for　the
matches；　lighted　the　gas；　and　gazing　at　myself　in　the　mirror　was　a　little
reassured　to　find　nothing　sinister　in　my　countenance。。。。

Next　to　my　father's　faith　in　a　Moral　Governor　of　the　Universe　was　his
belief　in　the　Tariff　and　the　Republican　Party。　　And　this　belief；　among
others；　he　handed　on　to　me。　　On　the　cinder　playground　of　the　Academy　we
Republicans　used　to　wage；　during　campaigns；　pitched　battles　for　the
Tariff。　　It　did　not　take　a　great　deal　of　courage　to　be　a　Republican　in
our　city；　and　I　was　brought　up　to　believe　that　Democrats　were　irrational；
inferior；　andwith　certain　exceptions　like　the　Hollistersdirty　beings。
There　was　only　one　degree　lower；　and　that　was　to　be　a　mugwump。　　It　was　no
wonder　that　the　Hollisters　were　Democrats；　for　they　had　a　queer　streak　in
them；　owing；　no　doubt；　to　the　fact　that　old　Mr。　Jules　Hollister's　mother
had　been　a　Frenchwoman。　　He　looked　like　a　Frenchman；　by　the　way；　and
always　wore　a　skullcap。

I　remember　one　autumn　afternoon　having　a　violent　quarrel　with　Gene
Hollister　that　bade　fair　to　end　in　blows；　when　he　suddenly　demanded：

〃I'll　bet　you　anything　you　don't　know　why　you're　a　Republican。〃

〃It's　because　I'm　for　the　Tariff；〃　I　replied　triumphantly。

But　his　next　question　floored　me。　　What；　for　example；　was　the　Tariff？　　I
tried　to　bluster　it　out；　but　with　no　success。

〃Do　you　know？〃　I　cried　finally；　with　sudden　inspiration。

It　turned　out　that　he　did　not。

〃Aren't　we　darned　idiots；〃　he　asked；　〃to　get　fighting　over　something　we
don't　know　anything　about？〃

That　was　Gene's　French　blood；　of　course。　　But　his　question　rankled。　　And
how　was　I　to　know　that　he　would　have　got　as　little　satisfaction　if　he　had
hurled　it　into　the　marching　ranks　of　those　imposing　torch…light
processions　which　sometimes　passed　our　house　at　night；　with　drums　beating
and　fifes　screaming　and　torches　waving；thousands　of　citizens　who　were
for　the　Tariff　for　the　same　reason　as　I：　to　wit；　because　they　were
Republicans。

Yet　my　father　lived　and　died　in　the　firm　belief　that　the　United　States　of
America　was　a　democracy！

Resolved　not　to　be　caught　a　second　time　in　such　a　humiliating　position　by
a　Democrat；　I　asked　my　father　that　night　what　the　Tariff　was。　　But　I　was
too　young　to　understand　it；　he　said。　　I　was　to　take　his　word　for　it　that
the　country　would　go　to　the　dogs　if　the　Democrats　got　in　and　the　Tariff
were　taken　away。　　Here；　in　a　nutshell；　though　neither　he　nor　I　realized
it；　was　the　political　instruction　of　the　marching　hordes。　　Theirs　not　to
reason　why。　　I　was　too　young；　they　too　ignorant。　　Such　is　the　method　of
Authority！

The　steel…mills　of　Mr。　Durrett　and　Mr。　Hambleton；　he　continued；　would　be
forced　to　shut　down；　and　thousands　of　workmen　would　starve。　　This　was
just　a　sample　of　what　would　happen。　　Prosperity　would　cease；　he　declared。
That　word；　Prosperity；　made　a　deep　impression　on　me；　and　I　recall　the
certain　reverential　emphasis　he　laid　on　it。　　And　while　my　solicitude　for
the　workmen　was　not　so　great　as　his　and　Mr。　Durrett's；　I　was　concerned　as
to　what　would　happen　to　us　if　those　twin　gods；　the　Tariff　and　Prosperity；
should　take　their　departure　from　the　land。　　Knowing　my　love　for　the　good
things　of　the　table；　my　father　intimated；　with　a　rare　humour　I　failed　to
appreciate；　that　we　should　have　to　live　henceforth　in　spartan　simplicity。
After　that；　like　the　intelligent　workman；　I　was　firmer　than　ever　for　the
Tariff。

Such　was　the　idealistic　plane　on　whichand　from　a　good　manI　received
my　first　political　instruction！　　And　for　a　long　time　I　connected　the
dominance　of　the　Republican　Party　with　the　continuation　of　manna　and
quails；　in　other　words；　with　nothing　that　had　to　do　with　the　spiritual
welfare　of　any　citizen；　but　with　clothin