Part 23 (2/2)
”It was hot and noisy in the club,” I volunteered.
”Why are you sitting here?”
”I was waiting about for the midnight ma.s.s at the Cathedral.”
”If you like I'll come with you.”
Lawson was quite sober. We sat for a while smoking in silence. Now and then in the lagoon was the splash of some big fish, and a little way out towards the opening in the reef was the light of a schooner.
”You're sailing next week, aren't you?” he said.
”Yes.”
”It would be jolly to go home once more. But I could never stand it now.
The cold, you know.”
”It's odd to think that in England now they're s.h.i.+vering round the fire,” I said.
There was not even a breath of wind. The balminess of the night was like a spell. I wore nothing but a thin s.h.i.+rt and a suit of ducks. I enjoyed the exquisite languor of the night, and stretched my limbs voluptuously.
”This isn't the sort of New Year's Eve that persuades one to make good resolutions for the future,” I smiled.
He made no answer, but I do not know what train of thought my casual remark had suggested in him, for presently he began to speak. He spoke in a low voice, without any expression, but his accents were educated, and it was a relief to hear him after the tw.a.n.g and the vulgar intonations which for some time had wounded my ears.
”I've made an awful hash of things. That's obvious, isn't it? I'm right down at the bottom of the pit and there's no getting out for me. '_Black as the pit from pole to pole._'” I felt him smile as he made the quotation. ”And the strange thing is that I don't see how I went wrong.”
I held my breath, for to me there is nothing more awe-inspiring than when a man discovers to you the nakedness of his soul. Then you see that no one is so trivial or debased but that in him is a spark of something to excite compa.s.sion.
”It wouldn't be so rotten if I could see that it was all my own fault.
It's true I drink, but I shouldn't have taken to that if things had gone differently. I wasn't really fond of liquor. I suppose I ought not to have married Ethel. If I'd kept her it would be all right. But I did love her so.”
His voice faltered.
”She's not a bad lot, you know, not really. It's just rotten luck. We might have been as happy as lords. When she bolted I suppose I ought to have let her go, but I couldn't do that--I was dead stuck on her then; and there was the kid.”
”Are you fond of the kid?” I asked.
”I was. There are two, you know. But they don't mean so much to me now.
You'd take them for natives anywhere. I have to talk to them in Samoan.”
”Is it too late for you to start fresh? Couldn't you make a dash for it and leave the place?”
”I haven't the strength. I'm done for.”
”Are you still in love with your wife?”
”Not now. Not now.” He repeated the two words with a kind of horror in his voice. ”I haven't even got that now. I'm down and out.”
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