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Page 22
XIV
It was on one of these days that Amroth came suddenly upon me, with a
very mirthful look on his face, his eyes sparkling like a man struggling
with hidden laughter. "Come with me," he said; "you have been so dutiful
lately that I am alarmed for your health." Then we went out of the
garden where I was sitting, and we were suddenly in a street. I saw in a
moment that it was a real street, in the suburb of an English town;
there were electric trams running, and rows of small trees, and an open
space planted with shrubs, with asphalt paths and ugly seats. On the
other side of the road was a row of big villas, tasteless, dreary,
comfortable houses, with meaningless turrets and balconies. I could not
help feeling that it was very dismal that men and women should live in
such places, think them neat and well-appointed, and even grow to love
them. We went into one of these houses; it was early in the morning, and
a little drizzle was falling, which made the whole place seem very
cheerless. In a room with a bow-window looking on the road there were
three persons. An old man was reading a paper in an arm-chair by the
fire, with his back to the light. He looked a nice old man, with his
clear skin and white hair; opposite him was an old lady in another
chair, reading a letter. With his back to the fire stood a man of about
thirty-five, sturdy-looking, but pale, and with an appearance of being
somewhat overworked. He had a good face, but seemed a little
uninteresting, as if he did not feed his mind. The table had been spread
for breakfast, and the meal was finished and partly cleared away. The
room was ugly and the furniture was a little shabby; there was a glazed
bookcase, full of dull-looking books, a sideboard, a table with writing
materials in the window, and some engravings of royal groups and
celebrated men.
The younger man, after a moment, said, "Well, I must be off." He nodded
to his father, and bent down to kiss his mother, saying, "Take care of
yourself--I shall be back in good time for tea." I had a sense that he
was using these phrases in a mechanical way, and that they were
customary with him. Then he went out, planting his feet solidly on the
carpet, and presently the front door shut. I could not understand why we
had come to this very unemphatic party, and examined the whole room
carefully to see what was the object of our visit. A maid came in and
removed the rest of the breakfast things, leaving the cloth still on the
table, and some of the spoons and knives, with the salt-cellars, in
their places. When she had finished and gone out, there was a silence,
only broken by the crackling of the paper as the old man folded it.
Presently the old lady said: "I wish Charles could get his holiday a
little sooner; he looks so tired, and he does not eat well. He does
stick so hard to his business."
"Yes, dear, he does," said the old man, "but it is just the busiest
time, and he tells me that they have had some large orders lately. They
are doing very well, I understand."
There was another silence, and then the old lady put down her letter,
and looked for a moment at a picture, representing a boy, a large
photograph a good deal faded, which hung close to her--underneath it was
a small vase of flowers on a bracket. She gave a little sigh as she did
this, and the old man looked at her over the top of his paper. "Just
think, father," she said, "that Harry would have been thirty-eight this
very week!"
The old man made a comforting sort of little noise, half sympathetic and
half deprecatory. "Yes, I know," said the old lady, "but I can't help
thinking about him a great deal at this time of the year. I don't
understand why he was taken away from us. He was always such a good
boy--he would have been just like Charles, only handsomer--he was always
handsomer and brighter; he had so much of your spirit! Not but what
Charles has been the best of sons to us--I don't mean that--no one could
be better or more easy to please! But Harry had a different way with
him." Her eyes filled with tears, which she brushed away. "No," she
added, "I won't fret about him. I daresay he is happier where he is--I
am sure he is--and thinking of his mother too, my bonny boy, perhaps."
The old man got up, put his paper down, went across to the old lady, and
gave her a kiss on the brow. "There, there," he said soothingly, "we may
be sure it's all for the best;" and he stood looking down fondly at her.
Amroth crossed the room and stood beside the pair, with a hand on the
shoulder of each. I saw in an instant that there was an unmistakable
likeness between the three; but the contrast of the marvellous
brilliance and beauty of Amroth with the old, world-wearied,
simple-minded couple was the most extraordinary thing to behold. "Yes, I
feel better already," said the old lady, smiling; "it always does me
good to say out what I am feeling, father; and then you are sure to
understand."
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