”No；Idon’tknowthatIwanttohunt。Itmustbeawfullyexciting，ofcourse；butit’scruel，isn’tit?Junesaysso。””Cruel?”ejaculatedVal。”Oh！that’sallrot。Who’sJune?””Mysister——myhalf-sister，youknow——mucholderthanme。”ShehadputherhandsuptobothcheeksofJolly’shorse，andwasrubbinghernoseagainstitsnosewithagentlesnufflingnoisewhichseemedtohaveanhypnoticeffectontheanimal。Valcontemplatedhercheekrestingagainstthehorse’snose，andhereyesgleamingroundathim。’She’sreallyaduck，’hethought。Theyreturnedtothehouselesstalkative，followedthistimebythedogBalthasar，walkingmoreslowlythananythingonearth，andclearlyexpectingthemnottoexceedhisspeedlimit。”Thisisarippingplace，”saidValfromundertheoaktree，wheretheyhadpausedtoallowthedogBalthasartocomeup。”Yes，”saidHolly，andsighed。”OfcourseIwanttogoeverywhere。
IwishIwereagipsy。””Yes，gipsiesarejolly，”repliedVal，withaconvictionwhichhadjustcometohim；”you’reratherlikeone，youknow。”
Holly’sfaceshonesuddenlyanddeeply，likedarkleavesgildedbythesun。”Togomad-rabbitingeverywhereandseeeverything，andliveintheopen——oh！wouldn’titbefun?””Let’sdoit！”saidVal。”Ohyes，let’s！””It’dbegrandsport，justyouandI。”
ThenHollyperceivedthequaintnessandgushed。”Well，we’vegottodoit，”saidValobstinately，butreddeningtoo。”Ibelieveindoingthingsyouwanttodo。What’sdownthere?””Thekitchen-garden，andthepondandthecoppice，andthefarm。””Let’sgodown！”
Hollyglancedbackatthehouse。”It’stea-time，Iexpect；there’sDadbeckoning。”
Val，utteringagrowlysound，followedhertowardsthehouse。
Whentheyre-enteredthehallgallerythesightoftwomiddle-agedForsytesdrinkingteatogetherhaditsmagicaleffect，andtheybecamequitesilent。Itwas，indeed，animpressivespectacle。Thetwowereseatedsidebysideonanarrangementinmarqueteriewhichlookedlikethreesilverypinkchairsmadeone，withalowtea-tableinfrontofthem。Theyseemedtohavetakenupthatposition，asfarapartastheseatwouldpermit，sothattheyneednotlookateachothertoomuch；andtheywereeatinganddrinkingratherthantalking——Soameswithhisairofdespisingthetea-cakeasitdisappeared，Jolyonoffindinghimselfslightlyamusing。Tothecasualeyeneitherwouldhaveseemedgreedy，butbothweregettingthroughagooddealofsustenance。Thetwoyoungoneshavingbeensuppliedwithfood，theprocesswentonsilentandabsorbative，till，withtheadventofcigarettes，JolyonsaidtoSoames：”Andhow’sUncleJames?””Thanks，veryshaky。””We’reawonderfulfamily，aren’twe?TheotherdayIwascalculatingtheaverageageofthetenoldForsytesfrommyfather’sfamilyBible。Imakeiteighty-fouralready，andfivestillliving。Theyoughttobeattherecord；”andlookingwhimsicallyatSoames，headded：”Wearen’tthementheywere，youknow。”
Soamessmiled。’DoyoureallythinkIshalladmitthatI’mnottheirequal’；heseemedtobesaying，’orthatI’vegottogiveupanything，especiallylife?’”Wemaylivetotheirage，perhaps，”pursuedJolyon，”butself-
consciousnessisahandicap，youknow，andthat’sthedifferencebetweenus。We’velostconviction。Howandwhenself-consciousnesswasbornInevercanmakeout。Myfatherhadalittle，butIdon’tbelieveanyotheroftheoldForsyteseverhadascrap。Nevertoseeyourselfasothersseeyou，it’sawonderfulpreservative。Thewholehistoryofthelastcenturyisinthedifferencebetweenus。
Andbetweenusandyou，”headded，gazingthrougharingofsmokeatValandHolly，uncomfortableunderhisquizzicalregard，”there’llbe——anotherdifference。Iwonderwhat。”
Soamestookouthiswatch。”Wemustgo，”hesaid，”ifwe’retocatchourtrain。””UncleSoamesnevermissesatrain，”mutteredVal，withhismouthfull。”WhyshouldI?”Soamesansweredsimply。”Oh！Idon’tknow，”grumbledVal，”otherpeopledo。”
AtthefrontdoorhegaveHolly’sslimbrownhandalongandsurreptitioussqueeze。”Lookoutformeto-morrow，”hewhispered；”threeo’clock。I’llwaitforyouintheroad；it’llsavetime。We’llhavearippingride。”Hegazedbackatherfromthelodgegate，and，butfortheprinciplesofamanabouttown，wouldhavewavedhishand。Hefeltinnomoodtotoleratehisuncle’sconversation。Buthewasnotindanger。Soamespreservedaperfectmuteness，busywithfar-awaythoughts。
TheyellowleavescamedownaboutthosetwowalkingthemileandahalfwhichSoameshadtraversedsoofteninthoselong-agodayswhenhecamedowntowatchwithsecretpridethebuildingofthehouse——thathousewhichwastohavebeenthehomeofhimandherfromwhomhewasnowgoingtoseekrelease。Helookedbackonce，upthatendlessvistaofautumnlanebetweentheyellowinghedges。
Whatanageago！”Idon’twanttoseeher，”hehadsaidtoJolyon。
Wasthattrue?’Imayhaveto，’hethought；andheshivered，seizedbyoneofthosequeershudderingsthattheysaymeanfootstepsonone’sgrave。Achillyworld！Aqueerworld！Andglancingsidelongathisnephew，hethought：’WishIwerehisage！
Iwonderwhatshe’slikenow！’
CHAPTERVIII
JOLYONPROSECUTESTRUSTEESHIP
WhenthosetwoweregoneJolyondidnotreturntohispainting，fordaylightwasfailing，butwenttothestudy，cravingunconsciouslyarevivalofthatmomentaryvisionofhisfathersittingintheoldleatherchairwithhiskneescrossedandhisstraighteyesgazingupfromunderthedomeofhismassivebrow。Ofteninthislittleroom，cosiestinthehouse，Jolyonwouldcatchamomentofcommunionwithhisfather。Not，indeed，thathehaddefinitelyanyfaithinthepersistenceofthehumanspirit——thefeelingwasnotsological——itwas，rather，anatmosphericimpact，likeascent，oroneofthosestronganimisticimpressionsfromforms，oreffectsoflight，towhichthosewiththeartist’seyeareespeciallyprone。
Hereonly——inthislittleunchangedroomwherehisfatherhadspentthemostofhiswakinghours——couldberetrievedthefeelingthathewasnotquitegone，thatthesteadycounselofthatoldspiritandthewarmthofhismasterfullovabilityendured。
Whatwouldhisfatherbeadvisingnow，inthissuddenrecrudescenceofanoldtragedy——whatwouldhesaytothismenaceagainsthertowhomhehadtakensuchafancyinthelastweeksofhislife?’I
mustdomybestforher，’thoughtJolyon；’helefthertomeinhiswill。Butwhatisthebest?’
Andasifseekingtoregainthesapience，thebalanceandshrewdcommonsenseofthatoldForsyte，hesatdownintheancientchairandcrossedhisknees。Buthefeltamereshadowsittingthere；
nordidanyinspirationcome，whilethefingersofthewindtappedonthedarkeningpanesofthefrench-window。
’Goandseeher?’hethought，’oraskhertocomedownhere?
What’sherlifebeen?Whatisitnow，Iwonder?Beastlytorakeupthingsatthistimeofday。’Againthefigureofhiscousinstandingwithahandonafrontdoorofafineolive-greenleapedout，vivid，likeoneofthosefiguresfromold-fashionedclockswhenthehourstrikes；andhiswordssoundedinJolyon’searsclearerthananychime：”Imanagemyownaffairs。I’vetoldyouonce，Itellyouagain：Wearenotathome。”TherepugnancehehadthenfeltforSoames——forhisflat-cheeked，shavenfacefullofspiritualbull-doggedness；forhisspare，square，sleekfigureslightlycrouchedasitwereoverthebonehecouldnotdigest——
camenowagain，freshasever，nay，withanoddincrease。’I
dislikehim，’hethought，’Idislikehimtotheveryrootsofme。
Andthat’slucky；it’llmakeiteasierformetobackhiswife。’
Half-artist，andhalf-Forsyte，Jolyonwasconstitutionallyaversefromwhathetermed’ructions’；unlessangered，heconformeddeeplytothatclassicdescriptionoftheshe-dog，’Er’drutherrunthanfight。’Alittlesmilebecamesettledinhisbeard。IronicalthatSoamesshouldcomedownhere——tothishouse，builtforhimself！
Howhehadgazedandgapedatthisruinofhispastintention；
furtivelynosingatthewallsandstairway，appraisingeverything！
AndintuitivelyJolyonthought：’Ibelievethefellowevennowwouldliketobelivinghere。Hecouldneverleaveofflongingforwhatheonceowned！Well，Imustact，somehoworother；butit’sabore——agreatbore。’