Indian Summer of a Forsyte | Page 9

your
protegees," and he slipped a cheque for fifty pounds into her hand. He
saw her brightened eyes, and heard her murmur: "Oh! Uncle Jolyon!"
and a real throb of pleasure went through him. That meant one or two
poor creatures helped a little, and it meant that she would come again.

He put his hand in at the window and grasped hers once more. The
carriage rolled away. He stood looking at the moon and the shadows of
the trees, and thought: 'A sweet night! She......!'

II
Two days of rain, and summer set in bland and sunny. Old Jolyon
walked and talked with Holly. At first he felt taller and full of a new
vigour; then he felt restless. Almost every afternoon they would enter
the coppice, and walk as far as the log. 'Well, she's not there!' he would
think, 'of course not!' And he would feel a little shorter, and drag his
feet walking up the hill home, with his hand clapped to his left side.
Now and then the thought would move in him: 'Did she come--or did I
dream it?' and he would stare at space, while the dog Balthasar stared at
him. Of course she would not come again! He opened the letters from
Spain with less excitement. They were not returning till July; he felt,
oddly, that he could bear it. Every day at dinner he screwed up his eyes
and looked at where she had sat. She was not there, so he unscrewed
his eyes again.
On the seventh afternoon he thought: 'I must go up and get some boots.'
He ordered Beacon, and set out. Passing from Putney towards Hyde
Park he reflected: 'I might as well go to Chelsea and see her.' And he
called out: "Just drive me to where you took that lady the other night."
The coachman turned his broad red face, and his juicy lips answered:
"The lady in grey, sir?"
"Yes, the lady in grey." What other ladies were there! Stodgy chap!
The carriage stopped before a small three-storied block of flats,
standing a little back from the river. With a practised eye old Jolyon
saw that they were cheap. 'I should think about sixty pound a year,' he
mused; and entering, he looked at the name-board. The name 'Forsyte'
was not on it, but against 'First Floor, Flat C' were the words: 'Mrs.
Irene Heron.' Ah! She had taken her maiden name again! And
somehow this pleased him. He went upstairs slowly, feeling his side a
little. He stood a moment, before ringing, to lose the feeling of drag and
fluttering there. She would not be in! And then--Boots! The thought
was black. What did he want with boots at his age? He could not wear
out all those he had.
"Your mistress at home?"

"Yes, sir."
"Say Mr. Jolyon Forsyte."
"Yes, sir, will you come this way?"
Old Jolyon followed a very little maid--not more than sixteen one
would say--into a very small drawing-room where the sun-blinds were
drawn. It held a cottage piano and little else save a vague fragrance and
good taste. He stood in the middle, with his top hat in his hand, and
thought: 'I expect she's very badly off!' There was a mirror above the
fireplace, and he saw himself reflected. An old-looking chap! He heard
a rustle, and turned round. She was so close that his moustache almost
brushed her forehead, just under her hair.
"I was driving up," he said. "Thought I'd look in on you, and ask you
how you got up the other night."
And, seeing her smile, he felt suddenly relieved. She was really glad to
see him, perhaps.
"Would you like to put on your hat and come for a drive in the Park?"
But while she was gone to put her hat on, he frowned. The Park! James
and Emily! Mrs. Nicholas, or some other member of his precious
family would be there very likely, prancing up and down. And they
would go and wag their tongues about having seen him with her,
afterwards. Better not! He did not wish to revive the echoes of the past
on Forsyte 'Change. He removed a white hair from the lapel of his
closely-buttoned-up frock coat, and passed his hand over his cheeks,
moustache, and square chin. It felt very hollow there under the
cheekbones. He had not been eating much lately--he had better get that
little whippersnapper who attended Holly to give him a tonic. But she
had come back and when they were in the carriage, he said:
"Suppose we go and sit in Kensington Gardens instead?" and added
with a twinkle: "No prancing up and down there," as if she had been in
the secret of his thoughts.
Leaving the carriage,