The Complete Project Gutenberg Works of Galsworthy

he had finished his cigar he fell asleep. A fly settled on his hair, his breathing sounded heavy in the drowsy silence, his upper lip under the wh

was full of dark green velvet and heavily-carved mahogany-a suite of which o

n the after life he could get m

ainst the cushion of his high-backed seat, was spoiled by the moustache, which imparted a somewhat military look to his face. An old clock that had b

ne year's end to another, except to take cigars from the Japa

s cheek-bones and chin, all were sharpened in his sleep, and th

James had always been a poor thing. He recollected with s

the engagement. She had met this Bosinney at the house of Baynes, Baynes and Bildeboy, the architects. He believed that Baynes, whom he knew-a bit of an old woman-was the young man's uncle by marriage. After that she'd been always running after him; and when she took a

ap-dash way and told him; and, as if

he's often lived on

you to live

getting into

ng who had got such a grip of his heart. He knew more about 'swims' than his granddaughter. But she, having clasped her hands on his knees,

on't be satisfied till y

grief, you must; I w

he condition that they should not marry unt

id, a formula to which June was not unaccustomed. "

t of all, he had no hope of shaking her resolution; she was as obstinate as a mule, always had been from a child. He didn't see where it was to end. They must cut their coat according to their cloth. He would not give way till he saw young Bosinn

b Soames could give him advice! He had always been a cub, with his nose in the air! He would be setting up as a man of property next,

le fresh in. They were not bad at the price, but you couldn't get a good cigar, nowadays,

ace of the Crown and Sceptre with Nicholas Treffry and Traquair and Jack Herring and Anthony Thornworthy. How good his cigars were then! Poo

eemed left, except Swithin, of course, and he so ou

ite head and his loneliness he had remained young and green at heart. And those Sunday afternoons on Hampstead Heath, when young Jolyon and he went for a stretch along the Spania

e society of those two good women, her mother and her grandmother, and at the top of the bea

e that in a sense had made his fortune-the fortune of the celebrated tea men, Forsyte and Treffry, whose tea, like no other man's tea, had a romantic aroma, the charm of a quite singular

or men, he used to say, had been the secret of his success, and the exercise of this masterful power of selection had been the only part of it all that he had really liked. Not a career for a man of his ability. Even now, when the business had been turned into a Limited Liability Company

t a racketty chap! The notorious Treffry! He had never taken any care of himself. So he was dead. Old Jolyon count

nd the other, and helping himself by the bannister. The house was too big. After June was married, if she ever did marry this fellow,

a soft tread, and a peculiar capacity for silence. Old Jolyon told

e been back from taking

et him come round

In spite of being talked about, perhaps in consequence of being talked about, it betrayed a disappointing vitality. People had grown tired of saying t

Polyglot'? You can't get a wine like our Heidsieck under twenty shillin' a bottle anywhere in London;" an

t there was always the question of fifty guineas entrance fee, and it w

ntempt for the place, having joined it many years ago when they refused to have him at the 'Hotch Potch' owing to his being 'in trade.' As if he were not as good as any of them! He naturally despised the Club that did take him. The members were a poor lot, many of them in the Cit

Clubs. He would have been a member all these years himself, but, owing to the slipshod way his proposer, Jack Herring, had gone to work, they had not known what they we

ouse had undergone the piebald decoration which people be

king-room!' he thought.

picked out with light

gress much at the 'Disunion,' a Club of almost Radical principles) at which he and young Jolyon us

led how he used to sit opposite, concealing his exc

oy had always chosen-soup, whitebait, cutlets,

ut after that experience of Jo's susceptibility he had been only too anxious to see him married. And in four years the crash had come! To have approved his son's conduct in that crash was, of course, impossible; reason and training-that combination of potent factors which stood for his principles-told him of this impossibility, and his heart cried out. The grim remorselessness of that business had no pity for hearts. There was June, the atom with fla

ye had last

ad hurt him more than anything, for with it had gone the last outlet of his penned-in affection; and there had come su

hampagne was dry and bitter stuff, no

e opera. In the Times, therefore-he had a distrust of other pap

ose new-fangled German p

gn

blem of greater days, and, pulling out an old pair of very thin lavender kid gloves smelling strongly of Russ

streets, and old Jolyon was st

been none of these big hotels. He made a satisfactory reflection on some property he h

ncharacteristic of a Forsyte, wherein lay, in part, the secret of his supremacy amongs

stood there with his purse in his hand-he always carried his money in a purse, never having approved of that habit of car

rised voice, "it's Mr. J

for years. Dear me! Tim

her, and that auctione

d to have six or seven s

re you, sir? We d

inea. They had not forgotten him. He marched in, to the

he fixed his eyes on the curtain. More poignantly than ever he felt that it was all over and done with him. Where were all the women, the pretty women, the house used to be so f

of his day! There was

hing; no melody left, no

rs! Gone! He sat watchi

eling at

s nothing clumsy or weak about old Jolyon. He was as upright-very nearly-as in those old times when he

ll with moderation, so as to keep himself young. But now he was deserted by his power of enjoyment, by his philosophy, and left with this drea

s no longer a social pariah. He was married. Old Jolyon had been unable to refrain from marking his appreciation of the action

AREST

t, but should you think fit to invest it for the benefit of the little chap (we call h

heart that your heal

lovi

J

e boy. He had always b

d sent th

DEAR

name of Jolyon Forsyte, and will be duly-credited with interest at 5 per

am, 'Your affe

ON FO

g up-next New Year's Day it would be fifteen hundred and odd pounds! And it is difficult to say h

nd watching of affairs, prompting him to judge conduct by results rather than by principle, there was at the bottom of his heart a sort of uneasiness. His son

im to be something wrong somewhere. Why had his s

circumstances the name struck him as cynical, and old Jolyon both feared and disliked cynicism), and a girl called Holly, born since the marriage. Who could tell what his son's circumstances really were? He had capitalized the income he had inherited from his mother's father and joined Lloyd's as an underwriter; he painted pic

oo much of that desirable manner which old Jolyon knew was only to be obtained at such places and at great expense; but he had always been companionable. Always a companion, even after Cambridge-a little far off, perhaps, owing to the advantages he had received. Old Jolyon's feeling towards our public schools and 'Varsities never wavered, and he retained touchingly his attitude of admiration and mi

ey were easily

ad of going through the Green Park, the cabman turned to drive up St. James's Street. Old Jolyon put his hand through the trap (he could not bear being taken out of his way); in turning, however, he f

Herring, and they had the best cook in London; and he looked round with the shrewd,

orsyte still

the Club now,

n was tak

ther,"

e took his stand, ba

ir going grey, and face-a narrower replica of his father's, with the same large drooping moustache-decidedly worn. He turned pale. This meeting was terrible after

e you,

on an

re you

trembled in its th

way," he said, "I

ng each other home every night the

rdonic mask, as though he had found in the circumstances of his life the necessity for armour. The features were certainly those of a Forsyte, but the expressio

oked so worn and old. But in the cab he seemed hardly to have changed, stil

ok well

" old Joly

put into words. Having got his son back like this, h

o hear what sort of water you'r

at his son might find

nswered in his

m not i

th it, however, and Jo had never been sulky with him. They drove on, without speaking

his father hastily: "w

w that she's enga

murmured yo

fare, for the first time in his life gave the

cabman whipped his horse secretly

nd beckoned. His son saw him gravely hanging up his coat, with an exp

close to it a cynical looking cat had fallen asleep on the dining-table. Old Jolyon 'shoo'd' her

hall leading to the basement he called "Hssst!" several times, as though assistin

tt," said old Jolyon. "I

ded him, with her tail in the air, proclaiming that she had seen

old Jolyon's domestic

d to him ironical. The episode of the cat; the announcement of his own daughter's engagement. So he had

ne like now

y say she's like me, but that's their folly. She

she is

praise anything freely; especially anyth

Forsyte chin. It'll be lone

young Jolyon the shock he had

ourself, Dad? I suppose

erable work living here alone. I don't know how it's to end. I wish to goodness…." He

as a boy-sleeping dogs with their noses resting on bunches of carrots, together with onions and grapes lying side by side in mild surprise.

class and creed, with his white head and dome-like forehead, the representative of mo

at cared nothing for family or class or creed, but moved, machine-like, with dread proce

he had lived with such magnificent moderation! To be lonel

nt of the New Colliery Company, of which he had so long been chairman; his disgust at the steady fall in American Golgothas, or even to discuss how, by some sort of settlement, he could best avoid the payment of those death duties which would follow his decease. Under the influence, however, of a cup of tea, which he seemed to stir

great quality. He kept his eyes fixed on his

and at the sound of its striking his principles cam

to bed, J

lp his father up. The old face looked worn an

boy; take care

ould hardly see; his smile quavered. Never in all the fifteen years since he had first