Читать книгу The Meadows of the Moon - James Hilton - Страница 23

Table of Contents

As August blazed through its teens into its twenties she saw a good deal of Michael, but not very much of John. The trouble between them, though still unsettled, seemed quiescent; she almost hoped that, without anybody saying or doing anything else, the matter might somehow be allowed to slide. But one evening after dinner John managed to accost her in the library. He began, with the utmost geniality: “Oh, by the way, Fran, do you remember some time ago I promised to tell you if you did anything I didn’t agree with?”

“Yes, I seem to remember.”

“Well then, I’d better keep my promise. I don’t agree with the way you’re behaving with Michael.”

He went on, with hardly a pause: “You aren’t helping him—by treating him as you have been. He ought to be making up his mind what he’s going to do after the end of the month. It might be a good thing if you were to remind him.”

For the moment then she felt that she was wholly on Michael’s side, without even abstract qualifications. Her cheeks kindled as she answered: “Micky doesn’t need reminding. I daresay he has his own plans, just as you have yours. And as for my friendship with him, it’s my own affair.”

“Of course it is.” He smiled suavely. “That’s precisely why I want to talk to you about it. Don’t you see that with your considerable influence over him you have the power to help or hinder him a great deal?” He touched her gently on the arm. “Look here, I hate family quarrels. I only want to be reasonable. I’m in charge of this household—at mother’s desire—and I really can’t let Michael go on flatly defying me out of mere spite. That’s what it seems to be.... Don’t think I want to bully anybody. I don’t bully you, do I? But then you don’t go about deliberately making as much trouble as you can, do you? ... Tell me now, if you care to—has Michael any plans for the future?”

“He hasn’t—so far as I know.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not trying to compel him to do work he doesn’t like. I know he’s different from me—artistic and all that—and if he wants to take up a career of that kind I certainly wouldn’t object.... Only, he can’t just stay on here in a state of sulky rebellion. You see that, don’t you? He must in his own way, pull his weight with us all, not against us. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think I do.”

“Try,” he said finally, with a friendly squeeze of her arm, “to make him see it. Try to make him see my point of view.”