”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。’