the door in the wall-第2部分

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hand　I　held　out　and　purred。　　It　was；　I　tell　you；　an　enchanted

garden。　　I　know。　　And　the　size？　　Oh！　it　stretched　far　and　wide；

this　way　and　that。　　I　believe　there　were　hills　far　away。　　Heaven

knows　where　West　Kensington　had　suddenly　got　to。　　And　somehow　it

was　just　like　coming　home。



〃You　know；　in　the　very　moment　the　door　swung　to　behind　me；　I

forgot　the　road　with　its　fallen　chestnut　leaves；　its　cabs　and

tradesmen's　carts；　I　forgot　the　sort　of　gravitational　pull　back　to

the　discipline　and　obedience　of　home；　I　forgot　all　hesitations　and

fear；　forgot　discretion；　forgot　all　the　intimate　realities　of　this

life。　　I　became　in　a　moment　a　very　glad　and　wonder…happy　little

boyin　another　world。　　It　was　a　world　with　a　different　quality；　a

warmer；　more　penetrating　and　mellower　light；　with　a　faint　clear

gladness　in　its　air；　and　wisps　of　sun…touched　cloud　in　the　blueness

of　its　sky。　　And　before　me　ran　this　long　wide　path；　invitingly；

with　weedless　beds　on　either　side；　rich　with　untended　flowers；　and

these　two　great　panthers。　　I　put　my　little　hands　fearlessly　on

their　soft　fur；　and　caressed　their　round　ears　and　the　sensitive

corners　under　their　ears；　and　played　with　them；　and　it　was　as

though　they　welcomed　me　home。　　There　was　a　keen　sense　of

home…coming　in　my　mind；　and　when　presently　a　tall；　fair　girl

appeared　in　the　pathway　and　came　to　meet　me；　smiling；　and　said

'Well？'　to　me；　and　lifted　me；　and　kissed　me；　and　put　me　down；　and

led　me　by　the　hand；　there　was　no　amazement；　but　only　an　impression

of　delightful　rightness；　of　being　reminded　of　happy　things　that　had

in　some　strange　way　been　overlooked。　　There　were　broad　steps；　I

remember；　that　came　into　view　between　spikes　of　delphinium；　and　up

these　we　went　to　a　great　avenue　between　very　old　and　shady　dark

trees。　　All　down　this　avenue；　you　know；　between　the　red　chapped

stems；　were　marble　seats　of　honour　and　statuary；　and　very　tame　and

friendly　white　doves　。　。　。　。　。



〃And　along　this　avenue　my　girl…friend　led　me；　looking　downI

recall　the　pleasant　lines；　the　finely…modelled　chin　of　her　sweet

kind　faceasking　me　questions　in　a　soft；　agreeable　voice；　and

telling　me　things；　pleasant　things　I　know；　though　what　they　were　I

was　never　able　to　recall　。　。　。　　And　presently　a　little　Capuchin

monkey；　very　clean；　with　a　fur　of　ruddy　brown　and　kindly　hazel

eyes；　came　down　a　tree　to　us　and　ran　beside　me；　looking　up　at　me

and　grinning；　and　presently　leapt　to　my　shoulder。　　So　we　went　on

our　way　in　great　happiness　。　。　。　。〃



He　paused。



〃Go　on；〃　I　said。



〃I　remember　little　things。　　We　passed　an　old　man　musing　among

laurels；　I　remember；　and　a　place　gay　with　paroquets；　and　came

through　a　broad　shaded　colonnade　to　a　spacious　cool　palace；　full　of

pleasant　fountains；　full　of　beautiful　things；　full　of　the　quality

and　promise　of　heart's　desire。　　And　there　were　many　things　and　many

people；　some　that　still　seem　to　stand　out　clearly　and　some　that　are

a　little　vague；　but　all　these　people　were　beautiful　and　kind。　　In

some　wayI　don't　know　howit　was　conveyed　to　me　that　they　all

were　kind　to　me；　glad　to　have　me　there；　and　filling　me　with

gladness　by　their　gestures；　by　the　touch　of　their　hands；　by　the

welcome　and　love　in　their　eyes。　　Yes〃



He　mused　for　awhile。　　〃Playmates　I　found　there。　　That　was　very

much　to　me；　because　I　was　a　lonely　little　boy。　　They　played

delightful　games　in　a　grass…covered　court　where　there　was　a

sun…dial　set　about　with　flowers。　　And　as　one　played　one　loved　。　。　。　。



〃Butit's　oddthere's　a　gap　in　my　memory。　　I　don't　remember

the　games　we　played。　　I　never　remembered。　　Afterwards；　as　a　child；

I　spent　long　hours　trying；　even　with　tears；　to　recall　the　form　of

that　happiness。　　I　wanted　to　play　it　all　over　againin　my　nursery

by　myself。　　No！　　All　I　remember　is　the　happiness　and　two　dear

playfellows　who　were　most　with　me　。　。　。　。　　Then　presently　came　a

sombre　dark　woman；　with　a　grave；　pale　face　and　dreamy　eyes；　a

sombre　woman　wearing　a　soft　long　robe　of　pale　purple；　who　carried

a　book　and　beckoned　and　took　me　aside　with　her　into　a　gallery　above

a　hallthough　my　playmates　were　loth　to　have　me　go；　and　ceased

their　game　and　stood　watching　as　I　was　carried　away。　　'Come　back　to

us！'　they　cried。　　'Come　back　to　us　soon！'　I　looked　up　at　her　face；

but　she　heeded　them　not　at　all。　　Her　face　was　very　gentle　and

grave。　　She　took　me　to　a　seat　in　the　gallery；　and　I　stood　beside

her；　ready　to　look　at　her　book　as　she　opened　it　upon　her　knee。　　The

pages　fell　open。　　She　pointed；　and　I　looked；　marvelling；　for　in　the

living　pages　of　that　book　I　saw　myself；　it　was　a　story　about

myself；　and　in　it　were　all　the　things　that　had　happened　to　me　since

ever　I　was　born　。　。　。　。



〃It　was　wonderful　to　me；　because　the　pages　of　that　book　were

not　pictures；　you　understand；　but　realities。〃



Wallace　paused　gravelylooked　at　me　doubtfully。



〃Go　on；〃　I　said。　　〃I　understand。〃



〃They　were　realitiesyes；　they　must　have　been；　people　moved

and　things　came　and　went　in　them；　my　dear　mother；　whom　I　had　near

forgotten；　then　my　father；　stern　and　upright；　the　servants；　the

nursery；　all　the　familiar　things　of　home。　　Then　the　front　door　and

the　busy　streets；　with　traffic　to　and　fro：　I　looked　and　marvelled；

and　looked　half　doubtfully　again　into　the　woman's　face　and　turned

the　pages　over；　skipping　this　and　that；　to　see　more　of　this　book；

and　more；　and　so　at　last　I　came　to　myself　hovering　and　hesitating

outside　the　green　door　in　the　long　white　wall；　and　felt　again　the

conflict　and　the　fear。



〃'And　next？'　I　cried；　and　would　have　turned　on；　but　the　cool

hand　of　the　grave　woman　delayed　me。



〃'Next？'　I　insisted；　and　struggled　gently　with　her　hand；

pulling　up　her　fingers　with　all　my　childish　strength；　and　as　she

yielded　and　the　page　came　over　she　bent　down　upon　me　like　a　shadow

and　kissed　my　brow。



〃But　the　page　did　not　show　the　enchanted　garden；　nor　the

panthers；　nor　the　girl　who　had　led　me　by　the　hand；　nor　the

playfellows　who　had　been　so　loth　to　let　me　go。　　It　showed　a　long

grey　street　in　West　Kensington；　on　that　chill　hour　of　afternoon

before　the　lamps　are　lit；　and　I　was　there；　a　wretched　little

figure；　weeping　aloud；　for　all　that　I　could　do　to　restrain　myself；

and　I　was　weeping　because　I　could　not　return　to　my　dear

play…fellows　who　had　called　after　me；　'Come　back　to　us！　　Come　back

to　us　soon！'　　I　was　there。　　This　was　no　page　in　a　book；　but　harsh

reality；　that　enchanted　place　and　the　restraining　hand　of　the　grave

mother　at　whose　knee　I　stood　had　gonewhither　have　they　gone？〃



He　halted　again；　and　remained　for　a　time；　staring　into　the　fire。



〃Oh！　the　wretchedness　of　that　return！〃　he　murmured。



〃Well？〃　I　said　after　a　minute　or　so。



〃Poor　little　wretch　I　wasbrought　back　to　this　grey　world

again！　　As　I　realised　the　fulness　of　what　had　happened　to　me；　I

gave　way　to　quite　ungovernable　grief。　　And　the　shame　and

humiliation　of　that　public　weeping　and　my　disgraceful　homecoming

remain　with　me　still。　　I　see　again　the　benevolent…looking　old

gentleman　in　gold　spectacles　who　stopped　and　spoke　to　meprodding

me　first　with　his　umbrella。　　'Poor　little　chap；'　said　he；　'and　are

you　lost　then？'and　me　a　London　boy　of　five　and　more！　　And　he　must

needs　bring　in　a　kindly　young　policeman　and　make　a　crowd　of　me；　and

so　march　me　home。　　Sobbing；　conspicuous　and　frightened；　I　came　from

the　enchanted　garden　to　the　steps　of　my　father's　house。



〃That　is　as　well　as　I　can　remember　my　vision　of　that

gardenthe　garden　that　haunts　me　still。　　Of　course；　I　can　convey

nothing　of　that　indescribable　quality　of　translucent　unreality；

that　difference　from　the　common　things　of　experience　that　hung

about　it　all；　but　thatthat　is　what　happened。　　If　it　was　a　dream；

I　am　sure　it　was　a　day…time　and　altogether　extraordinary　dream　。　。

。　。　。　。　　H'm！naturally　there　followed　a　terrible　questioning；　by

my　aunt；　my　father；　the　nurse；　the　governesseveryone　。　。　。　。　。　。



〃I　tried　to　tell　them；　and　my　father　gave　me　my　first

thrashing　for　telling　lies。　　When　afterwards　I　tried　to　tell　my

aunt；　she　punished　me　again　for　my　wicked　persistence。　　Then；　as　I

said；　everyone　was　forbidden　to　listen　to　me；　to　hear　a　word　about

it。　　Even　my　fairy　tale　books　were　taken　away　from　me　for　a

timebecause　I　was　'too　imaginative。'　Eh？　　Yes；　they　did　that！　　My

father　belonged　to　the　old　school　。　。　。　。　。　And　my　story　was　driven

back　upon　myself。　　I　whispered　it　to　my　pillowmy　pillow　that　was

often　damp　and　salt　to　my　whispering　lips　with　childish　tears。　　And

I　added　always　to　my　official　and　less　fervent　prayers　this　one

heartfelt　request：　'Please　God　I　may　dream　of　the　garden。　　Oh！　take

me　back　to　my　garden！　　Take　me　back　to　my　garden！'



〃I　dreamt　often　of　the　garden。　　I　may　have　added　to　it；　I　may

have　changed　it；　I　do　not　know　。　。　。　。　。　　All　this　you　understand

is　an　attempt　to　reconstruct　from　fragmentary　memories　a　very　early

experience。　　Between　that　and　the　other　consecutive　memories