the research magnificent-第64章

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ed　iron。　　And　once　there　was　a　marching　body　of　white　men　in　the　foreground　and　a　complicated　wire　fence；　and　a　clustering　mass　of　Kaffirs　watching　them　over　this　fence　and　talking　eagerly　amongst　themselves。　〃All　this　affair　here　is　little　more　than　a　hitch　in　the　machinery；〃　said　Benham；　and　went　back　to　his　large　preoccupation。　。　。　。　But　White；　who　had　not　seen　so　much　human　disorder　as　Benham；　felt　that　it　was　more　than　that。　　Always　he　kept　the　tail　of　his　eye　upon　that　eventful　background　while　Benham　talked　to　him。　When　the　firearms　went　off　he　may　for　the　moment　have　even　given　the　background　the　greater　share　of　his　attention。　。　。　。

11

It　was　only　as　White　burrowed　through　his　legacy　of　documents　that　the　full　values　came　to　very　many　things　that　Benham　said　during　these　last　conversations。　　The　papers　fitted　in　with　his　memories　of　their　long　talks　like　text　with　commentary；　so　much　of　Benham's　talk　had　repeated　the　private　writings　in　which　he　had　first　digested　his　ideas　that　it　was　presently　almost　impossible　to　disentangle　what　had　been　said　and　understood　at　Johannesburg　from　the　fuller　statement　of　those　patched　and　corrected　manuscripts。　　The　two　things　merged　in　White's　mind　as　he　read。　　The　written　text　took　upon　itself　a　resonance　of　Benham's　voice；　it　eked　out　the　hints　and　broken　sentences　of　his　remembered　conversation。　But　some　things　that　Benham　did　not　talk　about　at　all；　left　by　their　mere　marked　absence　an　impression　on　White's　mind。　　And　occasionally　after　Benham　had　been　talking　for　a　long　time　there　would　be　an　occasional　aphasia；　such　as　is　often　apparent　in　the　speech　of　men　who　restrain　themselves　from　betraying　a　preoccupation。　　He　would　say　nothing　about　Amanda　or　about　women　in　general；　he　was　reluctant　to　speak　of　Prothero；　and　another　peculiarity　was　that　he　referred　perhaps　half　a　dozen　times　or　more　to　the　idea　that　he　was　a　〃prig。〃　He　seemed　to　be　defending　himself　against　some　inner　accusation；　some　unconquerable　doubt　of　the　entire　adventure　of　his　life。　　These　half　hints　and　hints　by　omission　exercised　the　quick　intuitions　of　White's　mind　very　keenly；　and　he　drew　far　closer　to　an　understanding　of　Benham's　reserves　than　Benham　ever　suspected。　。　。　。　At　first　after　his　parting　from　Amanda　in　London　Benham　had　felt　completely　justified　in　his　treatment　of　her。　　She　had　betrayed　him　and　he　had　behaved；　he　felt；　with　dignity　and　self…control。　　He　had　no　doubt　that　he　had　punished　her　very　effectively；　and　it　was　only　after　he　had　been　travelling　in　China　with　Prothero　for　some　time　and　in　the　light　of　one　or　two　chance　phrases　in　her　letters　that　he　began　to　have　doubts　whether　he　ought　to　have　punished　her　at　all。　And　one　night　at　Shanghai　he　had　a　dream　in　which　she　stood　before　him；　dishevelled　and　tearful；　his　Amanda；　very　intensely　his　Amanda；　and　said　that　she　was　dirty　and　shameful　and　spoilt　for　ever；　because　he　had　gone　away　from　her。　　Afterwards　the　dream　became　absurd：　she　showed　him　the　black　leopard's　fur　as　though　it　was　a　rug；　and　it　was　now　moth…eaten　and　mangey；　the　leopard　skin　that　had　been　so　bright　and　wonderful　such　a　little　time　ago；　and　he　awoke　before　he　could　answer　her；　and　for　a　long　time　he　was　full　of　unspoken　answers　explaining　that　in　view　of　her　deliberate　unfaithfulness　the　position　she　took　up　was　absurd。　　She　had　spoilt　her　own　fur。　　But　what　was　more　penetrating　and　distressing　in　this　dream　was　not　so　much　the　case　Amanda　stated　as　the　atmosphere　of　unconquerable　intimacy　between　them；　as　though　they　still　belonged　to　each　other；　soul　to　soul；　as　though　nothing　that　had　happened　afterwards　could　have　destroyed　their　common　responsibility　and　the　common　interest　of　their　first　unstinted　union。　　She　was　hurt；　and　of　course　he　was　hurt。　　He　began　to　see　that　his　marriage　to　Amanda　was　still　infinitely　more　than　a　technical　bond。　And　having　perceived　that　much　he　presently　began　to　doubt　whether　she　realized　anything　of　the　sort。　　Her　letters　fluctuated　very　much　in　tone；　but　at　times　they　were　as　detached　and　guarded　as　a　schoolgirl　writing　to　a　cousin。　　Then　it　seemed　to　Benham　an　extraordinary　fraud　on　her　part　that　she　should　presume　to　come　into　his　dream　with　an　entirely　deceptive　closeness　and　confidence。　　She　began　to　sound　him　in　these　latter　letters　upon　the　possibility　of　divorce。　　This；　which　he　had　been　quite　disposed　to　concede　in　London；　now　struck　him　as　an　outrageous　suggestion。　　He　wrote　to　ask　her　why；　and　she　responded　exasperatingly　that　she　thought　it　was　〃better。〃　　But；　again；　why　better？　　It　is　remarkable　that　although　his　mind　had　habituated　itself　to　the　idea　that　Easton　was　her　lover　in　London；　her　thought　of　being　divorced；　no　doubt　to　marry　again；　filled　him　with　jealous　rage。　　She　asked　him　to　take　the　blame　in　the　divorce　proceedings。　　There；　again；　he　found　himself　ungenerous。　He　did　not　want　to　do　that。　　Why　should　he　do　that？　　As　a　matter　of　fact　he　was　by　no　means　reconciled　to　the　price　he　had　paid　for　his　Research　Magnificent；　he　regretted　his　Amanda　acutely。　　He　was　regretting　her　with　a　regret　that　grew　when　by　all　the　rules　of　life　it　ought　to　be　diminishing。　It　was　in　consequence　of　that　regret　and　his　controversies　with　Prothero　while　they　travelled　together　in　China　that　his　concern　about　what　he　called　priggishness　arose。　　It　is　a　concern　that　one　may　suppose　has　a　little　afflicted　every　reasonably　self…conscious　man　who　has　turned　from　the　natural　passionate　personal　life　to　religion　or　to　public　service　or　any　abstract　devotion。　　These　things　that　are　at　least　more　extensive　than　the　interests　of　flesh　and　blood　have　a　trick　of　becoming　unsubstantial；　they　shine　gloriously　and　inspiringly　upon　the　imagination；　they　capture　one　and　isolate　one　and　then　they　vanish　out　of　sight。　　It　is　far　easier　to　be　entirely　faithful　to　friend　or　lover　than　it　is　to　be　faithful　to　a　cause　or　to　one's　country　or　to　a　religion。　　In　the　glow　of　one's　first　service　that　larger　idea　may　be　as　closely　spontaneous　as　a　handclasp；　but　in　the　darkness　that　comes　as　the　glow　dies　away　there　is　a　fearful　sense　of　unreality。　　It　was　in　such　dark　moments　that　Benham　was　most　persecuted　by　his　memories　of　Amanda　and　most　distressed　by　this　suspicion　that　the　Research　Magnificent　was　a　priggishness；　a　pretentious　logomachy。　　Prothero　could　indeed　hint　as　much　so　skilfully　that　at　times　the　dream　of　nobility　seemed　an　insult　to　the　sunshine；　to　the　careless　laughter　of　children；　to　the　good　light　in　wine　and　all　the　warm　happiness　of　existence。　　And　then　Amanda　would　peep　out　of　the　dusk　and　whisper；　〃Of　course　if　you　could　leave　me！　　Was　I　not　LIFE？　　Even　now　if　you　cared　to　come　back　to　me　　For　I　loved　you　best　and　loved　you　still；　old　Cheetah；　long　after　you　had　left　me　to　follow　your　dreams。　。　。　。　Even　now　I　am　drifting　further　into　lies　and　the　last　shreds　of　dignity　drop　from　me；　a　dirty；　lost；　and　shameful　leopard　I　am　now；　who　was　once　clean　and　bright。　。　。　。　　You　could　come　back；　Cheetah；　and　you　could　save　me　yet。　　If　you　would　love　me。　。　。　。〃　In　certain　moods　she　could　wring　his　heart　by　such　imagined　speeches；　the　very　quality　of　her　voice　was　in　them；　a　softness　that　his　ear　had　loved；　and　not　only　could　she　distress　him；　but　when　Benham　was　in　this　heartache　mood；　when　once　she　had　set　him　going；　then　his　little　mother　also　would　rise　against　him；　touchingly　indignant；　with　her　blue　eyes　bright　with　tears；　and　his　frowsty　father　would　back　towards　him　and　sit　down　complaining　that　he　was　neglected；　and　even　little　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　would　reappear；　bravely　tearful　on　her　chair　looking　after　him　as　he　slunk　away　from　her　through　Kensington　Gardens；　indeed　every　personal　link　he　had　ever　had　to　life　could　in　certain　moods　pull　him　back　through　the　door　of　self…reproach　Amanda　opened　and　set　him　aching　and　accusing　himself　of　harshness　and　self…concentration。　　The　very　kittens　of　his　childhood　revived　forgotten　moments　of　long…repented　hardness。　　For　a　year　before　Prothero　was　killed　there　were　these　heartaches。　　That　tragedy　gave　them　their　crowning　justification。　　All　these　people　said　in　this　form　or　that；　〃You　owed　a　debt　to　us；　you　evaded　it；　you　betrayed　us；　you　owed　us　life　out　of　yourself；　love　and　services；　and　you　have　gone　off　from　us　all　with　this　life　that　was　ours；　to　live　by　yourself　in　dreams　about　the　rule　of　the　world；　and　with　empty　phantoms　of　power　and　destiny。　　All　this　was　intellectualization。　　You　sacrificed　us　to　the　thin　things　of　the　mind。　　There　is　no　rule　of　the　world　at　all；　or　none　that　a　man　like　you　may　lay　hold　upon。　　The　rule　of　the　world　is　a　fortuitous　result　of　incalculably　multitudinous　forces。　　But　all　of　us　you　could　have　made　happier。　　You　could　have　spared　us　distresses。　　Prothero　died　because　of　you。　　Presently　it　will　be　the　turn　of　your　father；　your　motherAmanda　perhaps。　。　。　。〃　He　made　no　written　note　of　his　heartaches；　but　he　made　several　memoranda　about　priggishness　that　White　read　and　came　near　to　understanding。　　In　spite　of　the　tugging　at　his　heart…strings；　Benham　was　making　up　his　mind　to　be　a　prig。　　He　weighed　the　cold　uningratiating　virtues　of　priggishness　against　his　smouldering　passion　for　Amanda；　and　against　his　obstinate　sympathy　for　Prothero's　grossness　and　his　mother's　personal　pr