Читать книгу Cardboard Castle - Percival Christopher Wren - Страница 16

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And, quite suddenly, after what seemed like several years of this happy busy life, enthralling and mildly strenuous, came a most unexpected kind of letter from Montiga, bringing mingled bad news and good. Lady Calderton, who had succumbed to the fever prevalent in those somewhat balefully beautiful islands, a rather virulent form of malaria, was coming home. Repeated attacks of the malarial fever had weakened her, and the Government House doctor had told Sir Arthur that he had no hope of her shaking it off and making a satisfactory convalescence unless she went right away from the tropics, recuperated thoroughly, and was, for at least a year, free from any further attacks. It had accordingly been decided that she should come back to England, and remain there until Sir Arthur completed his term of office in Montiga and returned.

Though we could have wished that the cause of her home-coming had been any other than what it was, the news filled us with delight. I had not realized that Anthony loved his mother so much, especially in these circumstances of long separation. And although he had talked but little about her, it was evidently not a case of ‘out of sight out of mind.’ When he read the letter announcing her return, he was transfigured with joy and could scarcely speak for excitement.

My own reaction to the news also surprised me. Far from having any sense of chagrin or disappointment, however faint, at the thought of the inevitable lessening of my authority; far from feeling any sensation, however slight, of jealousy that I should now be taking second place with Anthony, I was delighted. It was the best news that I had had for a long time, and I looked forward with nothing but eager gladness to her arrival. As I say, the nature and strength of my feelings in the matter greatly surprised me. I had liked and admired her exceedingly in the days between my arrival at Calderton House and her departure for Montiga, but I had not realized how tremendously I liked her, how deep an impression she had made upon my mind.

Bright and cheerful as life was, it now took on even brighter hues, and I awoke each morning with the feeling of some happiness impending, some good thing about to come to pass, and throughout the day this little spring of joy bubbled up from my inmost being, and I was not only happy but consciously so. And I was conscious of the reason; of the reason why I found that so often now I lifted up my voice in reasonably tuneful song, whistled merrily, by no means a habit of mine hitherto, and found life one harmonious melody.

When she came, I was relieved and delighted to find that the long sea voyage had worked wonders. She looked perfectly healthy as well as perfectly lovely, and there were no signs of languor, lassitude and weakness. It seemed to me that, unless there were any recurrence of the malaria, brought on by a chill, for example, she ought to make a very quick and complete recovery, if she had not already done so; and I was heartily ashamed of a twinge of fear that she might go back to Montiga instead of remaining at home until Sir Arthur’s return.

However, I was able to explain to myself that what I really feared was that she should go back and risk a return of the fever before she had made complete convalescence.

Now began for me a life of almost ideal happiness, even more satisfying and delightful than it had been before her return.

In the first place, she was so appreciative of the way in which I was handling Anthony, and of the improvement that she professed to be able to see in him already.

“He’s a different boy,” she declared, as we sat alone at dinner a few days after her return.

“In what way?” I asked.

“In every way; both mentally and physically. He holds himself better, he’s more upright and alert and active. He looks so much more—normal. Almost the typical Public School boy. He was getting such a weedy little book-worm.”

“And mentally?”

“He strikes me as so much happier, brighter; more alert mentally, just as he is physically, and more—there’s no other word for it but normal again. I used to be so worried about him, but now he really does seem more like the Happy Christian Child, if you know what I mean, instead of the moody little maggot, fanciful and neurotic and queer. It is as though he had been transferred from a hot-house out into the sunshine. I am so grateful to you.”

“Well, I’m very glad indeed that you form that opinion of him. I had hoped, and indeed thought, that he had improved, but not to that extent.”

“Well, you’ve been with him the whole time, and the change and improvement must have been gradual. I see him suddenly, after all this long time, and, well, he’s not the Anthony I expected to see. A different boy altogether. Vastly improved.”

“We shall have him wanting to go to school yet,” I smiled.

Lady Calderton laughed.

“That I very much doubt, unless you could go with him and be his house-master and form-master too. If you heard how he speaks of you, you wouldn’t think there was much hope or fear of his wanting to leave you and go to school.”

“Evidently I’ve overdone it.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I’m far more reconciled to his not going to school—now that I’ve seen him. School couldn’t possibly have done him the good that you’ve done, and it might have caused him infinite harm.

“No, we shall be quite content, in fact only too thankful, for him to go on as he is, until he’s ready for Oxford. By the time he’s eighteen, if only you’ll stay with him, I believe he’ll go up to Oxford absolutely fit to take his full share of the corporate life of his College. Not only fit but ready, willing and able. And that’s a thing I hardly dared to hope. You don’t know how pleased and happy and utterly grateful I am.”

And this to me was a very great reward, the greatest reward I have ever had for anything I have ever done.

And what had I done but live a delightful life with a charming boy to whom I was deeply attached?

Life was good. And though I am not superstitious or given to unreasoning foolish beliefs, I felt it was too good; too good to last—even until the time when Anthony could go up to Oxford.

Our day began at seven when invariably he came to my room, made cautious and dramatic entry with much giving of secret knocks, mysterious pass-words and cabalistic counter-signs. He would then have tea with me; propound some new theory; expound some new and brilliant idea for charade or play; talk whimsically of this and that; and endeavour to catch me out with his careful Socratic questioning ...

“Do you think the earth is round, Mr. Waring?”

“Oblate spheroid, according to the learned. Like an orange that has been sat upon gently, by a lightweight; slightly flattened top and bottom. But still, roughly speaking, round; a ball. So they say.”

“Well, then, if you could drive a lift-shaft straight through from London to Sydney, and went down by the lift, do you mean to say that when the lift-gates opened, your feet would be just where the Australian peoples’ heads are?”

“It would appear so, Socrates.”

“But it’s sheer nonsense. Tell me, would you be standing on your head or would they?”

“Neither. We’d both be standing on our feet.”

“But you couldn’t both be. When you arrived in the lift, your feet would be presented upward.”

“Pointing at the Australian sun,” I agreed.

“And the lift man in Sydney would be standing on his feet with his head pointing at the Australian sun. Both he and you are standing on your feet yet with your heads pointing in opposite directions. One of you must be upside down, surely.”

“So it would appear, Socrates.”

“Well then, it’s just silly. Reductio ad absurdum.”

“And yet the learned men do firmly asseverate that the world is round, a ball, a sphere; and other learned men accept their statement.”

“Well, we don’t, do we? I mean to say, you don’t think that if you arrived at Australia by lift, you’d have to turn yourself upside down, stand on your hands and walk out that way, so that you wouldn’t have your head where the Australians’ feet are.”

“But you would, if you did that, Socrates.”

“Well, that proves the earth is flat, doesn’t it? Can I have a lump of sugar?”

After eight-thirty breakfast in the schoolroom, we would walk or ride for half an hour, work until eleven, and then fence, either outdoors or in; work again for an hour, and then stroll talking in the park before lunch.

Lunch was a joyous occasion, as we joined Lady Calderton in the big dining-room and ate in state, waited on by Jenkins and Robert.

After lunch we three sat on the terrace, the weather being propitious, for a while, with coffee and cigarette, the remainder of the afternoon being Anthony’s until tea-time. Usually, as I have said, it was devoted to play-acting, whether indoors or out.

Indeed, if we did nothing more than go for what the ignorant might suppose was an ordinary ride, we were always busily scouting for hostile cavalry, Roundhead pickets and patrols. Sometimes, on sighting them, we would wheel about and gallop hell-for-leather to take the news back to the main body or the about-to-be-beleaguered castle or town. Sometimes we would charge desperately and put them to flight.

This game undoubtedly gave Anthony a good eye for country and was in some sort a training for the hunting-field. A policeman of any kind on foot, bicycle, or horseback, counted as a large Roundhead force, and many a rural constable must have been sorely puzzled by the behaviour of two horsemen who undoubtedly “acted in a suspicious manner.”

After tea in the schoolroom we put in another hour’s work, had fencing practice and exercise with the punching bag, whereafter Anthony’s time was again his own until supper and bed.

And though repeatedly in the early days I offered to leave him to his own devices and set him free to do exactly as he liked and go wherever he would, he never once availed himself of this freedom, nor seemed anything but hurt by the suggestion that I should leave him to himself.

When he had gone to bed, I changed for dinner, went down to the drawing-room, and awaited Lady Calderton’s arrival. Together we dined, and together returned to the drawing-room for coffee; and during the greater part of the time that we thus spent together we talked of Anthony, I telling her of his quaint and amusing sayings and doings of the day, she telling me of his childhood and of her anxieties and fears concerning him—from all of which, by the way, she now professed to be entirely free.

In fact, to my infinite satisfaction, it seemed that the boy had turned from a disappointment to a great hope; from an anxiety to a real joy. That she loved him with a great mother-love, deep and wide, was obvious, and having him with her was a great consolation for her separation from Sir Arthur.

Being the woman she was, it was with some slight surprise, and very great pleasure, that I saw how little selfishness and blind possessiveness there was in this deep maternal love, and how wisely and carefully she refrained from indulging and spoiling the boy.

I don’t think that Anthony ever went to her behind my back, or appealed to her over my head, so to speak; but had he done so, he would have received short shrift. Whenever he suggested something that I vetoed, there was never the slightest suggestion of disapproval, much less of intervention or interference, on the part of Lady Calderton. On the contrary, she invariably consulted me before granting any request made to her, and always referred him to me if he made any suggestion when I was not present. It was her custom to visit him alone for half an hour or so when he went to bed, and it was only natural that if, when talking to her, one of his bright ideas should suddenly occur to him, he should forthwith propound it to her and ask her advice and permission.

It struck me as a most extraordinarily nice trait in her character that, far from being in the slightest degree jealous of my power and great influence over Anthony, she in every way supported it, giving the boy to understand that, so far as his doings were concerned, I was the authority.

And Anthony completely accepting, in fact welcoming, the situation, we three people were about as happy, I think, as three people could be, always excepting the fact that Lady Calderton’s cup of happiness would not be completely filled until her husband’s return.

It was with a sense of the deepest satisfaction, with a glowing feeling of abiding joy, that I saw her steadily improving in health and spirits, shaking off the remaining effects of the malaria, and taking daily delight in Anthony’s quick growth towards normality.