Chapter 121
第一百二十一章
蛇麻子采完后，菲利普便随阿特尔涅全家一同返回伦敦，这时候，他口袋里就装着圣路加医院录用他为助理住院医生的通知书呢。回到伦敦后，他在威斯敏斯特租赁一套简朴的房间住了下来，并于十月初到医院去上班。那儿的工作五花八门、情趣盎然，每天他都能学到些新东西。他渐渐地觉得自己不像原先那么无足轻重了。他经常同莎莉见面。此时，菲利普感到万事如意，心舒神爽。除了轮到应付门诊病人之外，他通常都是六点下班。一下班，他便到莎莉所在的缝纫店去，等候从店里下班回家的莎莉。几个毛头小伙子总是在店门对面的人行道上或向前稍走几步的拐角处荡来荡去；店里的姑娘们或三三两两，或几个一伙地从店里出来，一认出那几个小伙子时，便一边你推我搡的，一边嘴里格格笑个不停。莎莉穿了件普普通通的黑上衣，同那个与菲利普比肩采蛇麻子的乡村女郎判若两人。她步履匆匆地从店里出来，见到菲利普后，渐渐放慢脚步，朝他恬然一笑，算是打了个招呼。他们俩并肩穿过繁华喧闹的街道。菲利普把医院里的工作情况讲给莎莉听，丽莎莉则把当天在店里干的活计告诉菲利普。久而久之，莎莉的女工友们姓甚名谁，菲利普也耳熟能详了。他发觉莎莉具有一种含蓄但机智的幽默感。莎莉讲起店里的姑娘们以及那些迷上她们的毛头小伙子们来，妙语连珠，把菲利普引逗得呵呵直乐。她谈沦起富有特色的趣事逸闻来，总是不动声色，仿佛事情本身压根儿就没有丝毫可笑之处似的，可她谈吐机智、语颇隽永，使得菲利普兴味盎然，忍俊不禁。这时候，莎莉朝菲利普一个飞眼，那充满笑意的目光表明她对自己的幽默毫无觉察。他们俩见面时，只是握握手；分手时，亦是客客气气。有一次，菲利普邀请莎莉到他寓所去共用茶点，却被她谢绝了。
"不，我不想去。这事多不好。"
他们俩从来不说卿卿我我之类的情话。莎莉看上去只想两人并肩散散步，除此之外，别无他念。不过菲利普深信莎莉很乐意同他在一起。她还是同他们俩刚结识时那样，依然令人捉摸不透。她的所作所为，菲利普还是不得要领。但是他认识她愈久，就愈加喜欢她。莎莉人很能干，自制力强，还有一种富有魅力的诚实的品德，令人感到无论在什么情况下，她都是可以信赖的。
"你是个顶好的好人，"有一次，菲利普没头没脑地脱口对莎莉说。
"我想我还不是同大家一个样嘛，"莎莉接着说。
菲利普知道自己并不爱莎莉。他对莎莉怀有一种强烈的情感，就喜欢她伴在自己的身旁。有她在身旁，菲利普感到一种莫名的安慰。他似乎觉得，自己对一名年方十九的缝纫女工情意缱绻是荒唐可笑的：他只是尊敬她而已。他对她那异常健全的体魄赞叹不绝。她是个纯洁无瑕、妙不可言的尤物。她那无懈可击的体态美使他的心里总是充满一种敬畏的情感。在她面前，菲利普总是觉得自己同她一点也不般配。
返回伦敦三周后的一天，两人散步的当儿，菲利普注意到她显得比往常更为沉默，只见她眉宇间微微起皱，划破了恬静安详的脸部表情。这是愁眉蹙额的先兆。
"怎么啦，莎莉？"菲利普关切地问道。
莎莉两眼避开菲利普，直直地凝望着前方，脸上愁云密布。
"我也说不清楚。"
菲利普立刻明白了她话中的含义。他的心跳突然加快了。他感到自己的脸陡然为之变色。
"你这话是什么意思？你是怕……？"
菲利普戛然打住话头。他语塞喉管，说不下去了。发生此类事情的可能性，他脑子里可从没有闪过。这时候，他发现莎莉的双唇打颤了，她在极力克制住自己的情感，不让自己哭出声来。
"我还没有把握，兴许没出事。"
他们俩默然无语地向前走着，最后来到昌策里巷的拐角处。菲利普通常在这儿同莎莉分手。这时候，莎莉向他伸过一只手，脸上微微笑着。
"眼下还不必担忧。我们要多往好处想想。"
菲利普默默地走了，但脑海里思潮翻滚，难以平静。他一向是个傻瓜！他第一个念头就是认为自己是个下贱的、可悲的傻瓜，一气之下，接连十多次痛骂自己是个傻瓜。他鄙视自己，责怪自己怎么昏了头又陷入这种糟糕的境地。这时候，他脑海里思绪万千，纷至沓来，不一会儿，全都缠绕在一起，剪不断，理还乱，犹如梦魇里见到的拼板玩具中的拼板。他不禁扪心自问：今后究竟怎么办？展现在他眼前的一切是那么清晰明朗，他多年来孜孜以求的目标终于唾手可得，然而，这下可好，他那难以想象的愚蠢行为又给自己设置了障碍。菲利普自己也承认，他的弱点就在于执著地向往过一种秩序井然、有条不紊的生活，也就是说他对未来的生活满怀激情，可就是克服不了。他刚回到医院定下心来开始工作，脑子里就想入非非起来，忙着为以后的旅行作种种打算。以往，他还想法克制自己，不让自己为未来作过细打算，因为那样做只会使自己灰心丧气。可眼下，他却认为，既然他的目的即将实现，就是对一种难以抗拒的渴望之情作些让步也没什么害处。旅途的第一站，他想去西班牙。那个国度是他一心向往的地方。此时，他心里充满了那个国家的精神、传奇、风采、历史及其崇高形象。他感到西班牙给了他一种任何别的国家所不能给他的特殊的启示。科尔多瓦、塞维利亚、莱昂、塔拉戈纳、波尔戈斯等古老而优美的城市，菲利普耳熟能详，仿佛他打孩提时代起就在那些城市的弯弯曲曲的街道上行走似的。只有西班牙的伟大画家才是他心目中的画家。当脑海里浮现出他心醉神迷地伫立在那些画作面前的情景时，他的心怦怦直跳；对他来说，那些画作要比任何其他画作更能抚慰他那遭受创伤、骚动不安的心灵。他读过出自伟大诗人手笔的名篇佳作，但西班牙诗人的诗作要比任何别的国家的诗人的诗作更富有民族特色，这是因为西班牙诗圣们似乎并不是从世界文学潮流里，而是直接从他们祖国的炎热、芳香的平原和荒凉的群山峻岭中获取灵感的。要不了几个月时间，他就可以亲耳聆听四周人们都操着那种似乎是最善抒发心灵和情感之美的语言了。他的情趣雅洁，他隐约觉得安达卢西亚那个地方太幽静，太发人伤感，似乎还有些儿俗气，不能满足他那奔放的热情；他满心向往那遥远的大风呼啸的卡斯蒂利亚和巍峨雄伟、道路崎岖的阿拉贡和莱恩。到那些未知世界中去闯荡，这究竟会给自己带来什么，菲利普自己也不甚了了。但他总感觉到，他可以从中获得力量和决心，使自己面对更遥远、更陌生的地方的种种奇观时，更加从容不迫，更能领悟其中的妙处。
这不过是万事开个头而已。菲利普已经同几家轮船公司挂上了钩，这几家轮船公司的船只出海时，都要带随船外科医生。因此，他对各家公司的航海路线了如指掌，并从跑过这几条航线的人们那儿摸清了各条航线的利弊。他撇开东方轮船公司和太平洋海外航运公司不予考虑，因为在这两家公司的轮船上很难搞到住舱，再说这两家公司主要是接运旅客，在客轮上，医务人员的活动余地太小了。不过，这不打紧，另外几家公司专门有船开往东方，货运任务不紧，一路上大小港口都停靠，停靠时间长短不等，短则一两天，长则半个月，这样时间充裕，还可以乘机深入口岸内地兜上一圈呢。在这种船上当随船医生，薪水不多，伙食平常，所以也没有多少人来谋求这一职位。一个手中持有在伦敦学医的文凭的人，一旦提出申请，十拿九稳是会被接受的。船从一个偏僻的港口驶往另一个港口，运货做生意；船上除偶然带个把人之外，就没什么乘客，因此，上面的生活倒是亲切可人、十分愉快的。菲利普把船只沿途停靠的港口地名熟记于心。那一个个地名无不在他脑海里勾勒出一幅幅阳光普照、色彩奇异的热带风光图，勾勒出一幅幅丰富多彩、变幻莫测和节奏紧张的生活的风俗画。啊，生活！那正是他菲利普所缺少的啊。生活终于渐渐向他逼近了。他说不定可以在东京或上海换乘别的航线的轮船，径直驶向南太平洋群岛。当名医生，到处都有用武之地。兴许还有机会到缅甸去逛一趟哩。至于苏门答腊、婆罗洲的茂密森林，他为什么就不能去观赏一下呢？他还年轻嘛，时间不成问题。他在英国无亲无故，完全可以花上几年在这大千世界周游一番，尽情领略万花筒似的生活之美妙。
可就在这节骨眼上，却出了这么件伤脑筋的事情。他不认为莎莉会判断错误，说来奇怪，他深信莎莉的感觉是对的，这种事情毕竟是可能发生的啊。明眼人一看就知道，造物主本来就把莎莉造就成一个会生儿育女的母亲。菲利普知道自己该怎么做。他不该让这区区小事使自己偏离既定的人生道路，哪怕是偏离一丝一毫都不行！这当儿，他想起了格里菲思。他完全想象得出，要是换了格里菲思得知这种消息，他会以怎样的冷淡态度加以对诗。格里菲思一定会认为这是件令人头痛的麻烦事，一定会像聪明人那样溜之大吉，让那姑娘独吞苦果。菲利普暗自思忖着，倘若事情果真如此，那是因为这种事情是不可避免的。想到这里，他倒反而责怪起莎莉来了。莎莉她可是个懂得世故和熟悉生活琐事的姑娘呀，然而她却还睁着双眼不顾后果地冒险。只有疯子才会让这区区小事把他整个生活格局给搅了呢。能够深切意识到人生好比朝露，瞬息即逝，并懂得要抓住机会及时行乐的人，世上寥寥无几，而他菲利普就是其中之一。他愿意为莎莉做他力所能及的事，还可以设法凑笔钱给她。一个铮铮汉子是决不会让任何事情来改变自己的人生目标的。
菲利普说是这么说，可他心里明白，他是做不出这种事来的。他绝对做不出来！他对自己还是了解的。
"我简直太懦弱了，"菲利普自暴自弃地嘟囔了一句。
莎莉一向信赖他，并待他一向很好。不管理由有千万条，他绝对不能做出一件他觉得可怕的事儿来。他知道要是老是惦记着莎莉的狼狈处境，那在旅途中他的心境一刻也得不到安宁。再说，对她的父母如何交待呢？他们夫妇俩从不把他当外人看，决不能恩将仇报哇。唯一可行的办法，就是尽快同莎莉结婚。他可以写信给索思大夫，说他马上就要结婚，如果大夫的建议继续有效的话，他愿意接受。在穷人中行医，这是他的唯一出路。在他们中间，他的跛足于事无碍，穷人们也不会嘲笑他妻子的憨直的态度的。真可笑，他竟把莎莉当成自己的妻子了。这时候，他心中不由得萌生出一种不可名状的温柔的情感。当想到那孩子正是他的时候，一股感情的暖流流遍全身。索思大夫一定会很欢迎他回去的，对此，他毫不怀疑。于是，他在脑海里又勾勒起他和莎莉俩在渔村生活的情景来了。他们将在望得见大海的地方租幢小房子，眺望着打眼前驶过的一艘艘大轮船，目送它们驶向那些他永远到不了的地方。这样做或许是最明智的。此时，菲利普的耳畔又回响起克朗肖生前对他说的话来。他说生活琐事对他毫无意义，他凭借自己的想象力，永远占据着时间和空间这两大领域。他的话是千真万确的啊：她将是朵盛开不败的鲜花，如果你永远爱她！
他将把他的远大理想全都作为结婚礼物奉献给自己的妻子。作自我牺牲！在这美好的精神激励下，菲利普的情绪高昂，一个晚上，他无时无刻不在考虑作出自我牺牲的事儿。他兴奋极了，书上的字一个也看不进去。他像是被人驱赶似地从房间里跑到了街上，他在伯德凯奇散步场所来回踱步，他的心像欢乐的小鸟似的在腔内蹦跳不止。他急不可耐，真想看看在他求婚后修莉那张幸福的笑脸；要不是时间太晚了。他准会立即跑到莎莉跟前去。他想象以后黄昏时分，他将伴着莎莉坐在舒适的起居室里，目光穿过洞开的百叶窗，眺望着大海的景色。他看着书，而莎莉在一旁埋头做针线。在有灯伞遮掩的灯光的照耀下，她那张可爱的脸蛋显得越发妩媚动人。他们将在一起喁喁细语，议论着渐渐长大的孩子；当她转过目光凝望他时，那目光里闪烁着亲怜蜜爱的光芒。他治过病的那些渔民，还有他们的妻子，会纷纷跑来向他们表示诚挚的谢意；而他和莎莉也将同那些普普通通的人心心相印，分享他们的欢乐，分担他们的痛苦。然而，他的思想一下子又回到即将出世的儿子-一是他菲利普的，也是莎莉的--身上。他已经感到自己内心里对儿子充满了一种钟爱之情。他想象自己用手抚摩着儿子的完美无缺的四肢，深信他儿子一定长得很俊美。他还将把有关自己准备欢度一种丰富多彩的生活的种种理想全都转赠给他儿子。回首自己走过的漫长的人生旅程，菲利普对他与莎莉的关系表示欣然接受。他默默地忍受着使其人生坎坷的残疾。他知道它扭曲了自己的性格。不过，此时他发现，同样由于它的缘故，他却获得了那种给予他无穷快乐的反省能力。要是没有它，他将永远不可能获得敏锐的鉴赏力，永远不可能热爱文学艺术和对生活中种种奇观发生兴趣。他常常受人嘲弄，遭人白眼，可这一切却使他性格内向，促使他心里开出朵朵香气不绝的鲜花。接着他认识列正常的事物才是世间最最珍贵的事物。人皆有缺陷，不是身体的就是精神的。这当儿，他回忆起所有他熟悉的人们（整个世界像是座病房，里面的一切皆委实莫名其妙），只见眼前排着一列长长的队伍，人人皆肉体有残疾，精神有创伤：其中有的身体有病，不是心脏病，就是肺病之类的；有的精神失常，不是意志消沉，就是嗜酒成性。这时，菲利普对他们不觉动了圣洁的怜悯之心。他们身不由己，不过是盲目的机会的工具而已。他可以饶恕格里菲思的狡诈，也可以宽有米尔德丽德，尽管她使自己蒙受莫大的痛苦。他们两个人也是身不由己呀。只有承认人们的美德，宽容他们的过错，才是合情合理的事情。这当儿，他脑海里掠过奄奄一息的上帝临终前的遗训：
啊，赦免他们，因为他们所作的，他们不晓得。
When the hops were picked, Philip with the news in his pocket that he had got the appointment as assistant house-physician at St. Luke’s, accompanied the Athelnys back to London. He took modest rooms in Westminster and at the beginning of October entered upon his duties. The work was interesting and varied; every day he learned something new; he felt himself of some consequence; and he saw a good deal of Sally. He found life uncommonly pleasant. He was free about six, except on the days on which he had out-patients, and then he went to the shop at which Sally worked to meet her when she came out. There were several young men, who hung about opposite the ‘trade entrance’ or a little further along, at the first corner; and the girls, coming out two and two or in little groups, nudged one another and giggled as they recognised them. Sally in her plain black dress looked very different from the country lass who had picked hops side by side with him. She walked away from the shop quickly, but she slackened her pace when they met, and greeted him with her quiet smile. They walked together through the busy street. He talked to her of his work at the hospital, and she told him what she had been doing in the shop that day. He came to know the names of the girls she worked with. He found that Sally had a restrained, but keen, sense of the ridiculous, and she made remarks about the girls or the men who were set over them which amused him by their unexpected drollery. She had a way of saying a thing which was very characteristic, quite gravely, as though there were nothing funny in it at all, and yet it was so sharp-sighted that Philip broke into delighted laughter. Then she would give him a little glance in which the smiling eyes showed she was not unaware of her own humour. They met with a handshake and parted as formally. Once Philip asked her to come and have tea with him in his rooms, but she refused.
‘No, I won’t do that. It would look funny.’
Never a word of love passed between them. She seemed not to desire anything more than the companionship of those walks. Yet Philip was positive that she was glad to be with him. She puzzled him as much as she had done at the beginning. He did not begin to understand her conduct; but the more he knew her the fonder he grew of her; she was competent and self controlled, and there was a charming honesty in her: you felt that you could rely upon her in every circumstance.
‘You are an awfully good sort,’ he said to her once a propos of nothing at all.
‘I expect I’m just the same as everyone else,’ she answered.
He knew that he did not love her. It was a great affection that he felt for her, and he liked her company; it was curiously soothing; and he had a feeling for her which seemed to him ridiculous to entertain towards a shop-girl of nineteen: he respected her. And he admired her magnificent healthiness. She was a splendid animal, without defect; and physical perfection filled him always with admiring awe. She made him feel unworthy.
Then, one day, about three weeks after they had come back to London as they walked together, he noticed that she was unusually silent. The serenity of her expression was altered by a slight line between the eyebrows: it was the beginning of a frown.
‘What’s the matter, Sally?’ he asked.
She did not look at him, but straight in front of her, and her colour darkened.
‘I don’t know.’
He understood at once what she meant. His heart gave a sudden, quick beat, and he felt the colour leave his cheeks.
‘What d’you mean? Are you afraid that... ?’
He stopped. He could not go on. The possibility that anything of the sort could happen had never crossed his mind. Then he saw that her lips were trembling, and she was trying not to cry.
‘I’m not certain yet. Perhaps it’ll be all right.’
They walked on in silence till they came to the corner of Chancery Lane, where he always left her. She held out her hand and smiled.
‘Don’t worry about it yet. Let’s hope for the best.’
He walked away with a tumult of thoughts in his head. What a fool he had been! That was the first thing that struck him, an abject, miserable fool, and he repeated it to himself a dozen times in a rush of angry feeling. He despised himself. How could he have got into such a mess? But at the same time, for his thoughts chased one another through his brain and yet seemed to stand together, in a hopeless confusion, like the pieces of a jig-saw puzzle seen in a nightmare, he asked himself what he was going to do. Everything was so clear before him, all he had aimed at so long within reach at last, and now his inconceivable stupidity had erected this new obstacle. Philip had never been able to surmount what he acknowledged was a defect in his resolute desire for a well ordered life, and that was his passion for living in the future; and no sooner was he settled in his work at the hospital than he had busied himself with arrangements for his travels. In the past he had often tried not to think too circumstantially of his plans for the future, it was only discouraging; but now that his goal was so near he saw no harm in giving away to a longing that was so difficult to resist. First of all he meant to go to Spain. That was the land of his heart; and by now he was imbued with its spirit, its romance and colour and history and grandeur; he felt that it had a message for him in particular which no other country could give. He knew the fine old cities already as though he had trodden their tortuous streets from childhood. Cordova, Seville, Toledo, Leon, Tarragona, Burgos. The great painters of Spain were the painters of his soul, and his pulse beat quickly as he pictured his ecstasy on standing face to face with those works which were more significant than any others to his own tortured, restless heart. He had read the great poets, more characteristic of their race than the poets of other lands; for they seemed to have drawn their inspiration not at all from the general currents of the world’s literature but directly from the torrid, scented plains and the bleak mountains of their country. A few short months now, and he would hear with his own ears all around him the language which seemed most apt for grandeur of soul and passion. His fine taste had given him an inkling that Andalusia was too soft and sensuous, a little vulgar even, to satisfy his ardour; and his imagination dwelt more willingly among the wind-swept distances of Castile and the rugged magnificence of Aragon and Leon. He did not know quite what those unknown contacts would give him, but he felt that he would gather from them a strength and a purpose which would make him more capable of affronting and comprehending the manifold wonders of places more distant and more strange.
For this was only a beginning. He had got into communication with the various companies which took surgeons out on their ships, and knew exactly what were their routes, and from men who had been on them what were the advantages and disadvantages of each line. He put aside the Orient and the P. & O. It was difficult to get a berth with them; and besides their passenger traffic allowed the medical officer little freedom; but there were other services which sent large tramps on leisurely expeditions to the East, stopping at all sorts of ports for various periods, from a day or two to a fortnight, so that you had plenty of time, and it was often possible to make a trip inland. The pay was poor and the food no more than adequate, so that there was not much demand for the posts, and a man with a London degree was pretty sure to get one if he applied. Since there were no passengers other than a casual man or so, shipping on business from some out-of-the-way port to another, the life on board was friendly and pleasant. Philip knew by heart the list of places at which they touched; and each one called up in him visions of tropical sunshine, and magic colour, and of a teeming, mysterious, intense life. Life! That was what he wanted. At last he would come to close quarters with Life. And perhaps, from Tokyo or Shanghai it would be possible to tranship into some other line and drip down to the islands of the South Pacific. A doctor was useful anywhere. There might be an opportunity to go up country in Burmah, and what rich jungles in Sumatra or Borneo might he not visit? He was young still and time was no object to him. He had no ties in England, no friends; he could go up and down the world for years, learning the beauty and the wonder and the variedness of life.
Now this thing had come. He put aside the possibility that Sally was mistaken; he felt strangely certain that she was right; after all, it was so likely; anyone could see that Nature had built her to be the mother of children. He knew what he ought to do. He ought not to let the incident divert him a hair’s breadth from his path. He thought of Griffiths; he could easily imagine with what indifference that young man would have received such a piece of news; he would have thought it an awful nuisance and would at once have taken to his heels, like a wise fellow; he would have left the girl to deal with her troubles as best she could. Philip told himself that if this had happened it was because it was inevitable. He was no more to blame than Sally; she was a girl who knew the world and the facts of life, and she had taken the risk with her eyes open. It would be madness to allow such an accident to disturb the whole pattern of his life. He was one of the few people who was acutely conscious of the transitoriness of life, and how necessary it was to make the most of it. He would do what he could for Sally; he could afford to give her a sufficient sum of money. A strong man would never allow himself to be turned from his purpose.
Philip said all this to himself, but he knew he could not do it. He simply could not. He knew himself.
‘I’m so damned weak,’ he muttered despairingly.
She had trusted him and been kind to him. He simply could not do a thing which, notwithstanding all his reason, he felt was horrible. He knew he would have no peace on his travels if he had the thought constantly with him that she was wretched. Besides, there were her father and mother: they had always treated him well; it was not possible to repay them with ingratitude. The only thing was to marry Sally as quickly as possible. He would write to Doctor South, tell him he was going to be married at once, and say that if his offer still held he was willing to accept it. That sort of practice, among poor people, was the only one possible for him; there his deformity did not matter, and they would not sneer at the simple manners of his wife. It was curious to think of her as his wife, it gave him a queer, soft feeling; and a wave of emotion spread over him as he thought of the child which was his. He had little doubt that Doctor South would be glad to have him, and he pictured to himself the life he would lead with Sally in the fishing village. They would have a little house within sight of the sea, and he would watch the mighty ships passing to the lands he would never know. Perhaps that was the wisest thing. Cronshaw had told him that the facts of life mattered nothing to him who by the power of fancy held in fee the twin realms of space and time. It was true. Forever wilt thou love and she be fair!
His wedding present to his wife would be all his high hopes. Self-sacrifice! Philip was uplifted by its beauty, and all through the evening he thought of it. He was so excited that he could not read. He seemed to be driven out of his rooms into the streets, and he walked up and down Birdcage Walk, his heart throbbing with joy. He could hardly bear his impatience. He wanted to see Sally’s happiness when he made her his offer, and if it had not been so late he would have gone to her there and then. He pictured to himself the long evenings he would spend with Sally in the cosy sitting-room, the blinds undrawn so that they could watch the sea; he with his books, while she bent over her work, and the shaded lamp made her sweet face more fair. They would talk over the growing child, and when she turned her eyes to his there was in them the light of love. And the fishermen and their wives who were his patients would come to feel a great affection for them, and they in their turn would enter into the pleasures and pains of those simple lives. But his thoughts returned to the son who would be his and hers. Already he felt in himself a passionate devotion to it. He thought of passing his hands over his little perfect limbs, he knew he would be beautiful; and he would make over to him all his dreams of a rich and varied life. And thinking over the long pilgrimage of his past he accepted it joyfully. He accepted the deformity which had made life so hard for him; he knew that it had warped his character, but now he saw also that by reason of it he had acquired that power of introspection which had given him so much delight. Without it he would never have had his keen appreciation of beauty, his passion for art and literature, and his interest in the varied spectacle of life. The ridicule and the contempt which had so often been heaped upon him had turned his mind inward and called forth those flowers which he felt would never lose their fragrance. Then he saw that the normal was the rarest thing in the world. Everyone had some defect, of body or of mind: he thought of all the people he had known (the whole world was like a sick-house, and there was no rhyme or reason in it), he saw a long procession, deformed in body and warped in mind, some with illness of the flesh, weak hearts or weak lungs, and some with illness of the spirit, languor of will, or a craving for liquor. At this moment he could feel a holy compassion for them all. They were the helpless instruments of blind chance. He could pardon Griffiths for his treachery and Mildred for the pain she had caused him. They could not help themselves. The only reasonable thing was to accept the good of men and be patient with their faults. The words of the dying God crossed his memory:
Forgive them, for they know not what they do.