Free Testimony Of Two Men by Taylor Caldwell

the people are born and bred in the cities. True. The farther you get away from the earth, the more dangerous you become.”
    “You’d say that, being a farmer,” said Harald, in a tone of understanding affection.
    They went out into the hot sunshine, and Robert felt relieved. He feared complexities and smothered hostilities, and he had no idea of what the brothers meant.
    He had come here, from Philadelphia and Johns Hopkins, believing that he would encounter, in Hambledon, the utmost simplicity, the heart of uninvolved America. But the conversation he had heard between these brothers had alarmed him. Small towns were not, as he thought, simple places filled with good hearts and uncomplex emotions, and bright with honest goodwill. His mother had said condescendingly, “There may be advantages in Hambledon. Fresh air, fresh places, plainness, homeliness. Natural, guileless. You can be a Great Influence, my darling in bringing urban values—in controlled measure—to the unaffected natives.” What an ass his mother was! to be sure.
    Harald offered to conduct his guests down to the river and the boat, but Jonathan said, “What? In those patent-leather shoes of yours? Don’t soil them, pray.”
    So Harald said his good-byes at the door of the castle, waved his hand with fondness at Robert, and went inside.
    “Amiable rascal, isn’t he?” asked Jonathan, as he and Robert strolled down the brick path between the lawns.
    “I think he’s very kind,” said Robert with some stiffness.
    “He is, he is. That he is,” said Jonathan. ” ‘Smile and smile, and be a villain.’ “
    Robert had encountered no one who was less a villain than Harald, so he said nothing in reply to this malicious remark. They came upon Jenny, who had put on her brown apron again. She was busy cultivating a rose bed, her rough blue dress hanging over her upturned heels. Jonathan strolled on, but Robert hesitatingly remained behind. The girl ignored his presence Her hands were brown with warm earth, her knees sunken in soil.
    “The roses are very beautiful,” said Robert She turned her head slightly, a trowel in her hand. “Thank you,” she said sullenly. Her white forehead was wet with sweat, and her full lips were very red. Her loose hair was in a rich tangle down her back.
    “I’ve enjoyed visiting you,” Robert went on.
    Now she frankly stared at him. “Why?”
    “Well. Everything is so charming.” She seemed to muse on his red-gold mustache.
    “Is it?” she asked with abruptness, and went back to her cultivating.
    Jonathan impatiently whistled to him and Robert started. He had been staring at Jenny’s beautiful young body and feeling that tingling again. “Corning,” he called. Then he saw that Jenny’s hands had stopped their vigorous movement and that she was gazing at Jonathan with that look of despair, or something else, that Robert had noticed before. Disturbed again, Robert went on and joined Jonathan.
    Something was very strange here, he concluded. He did not like it
    They rowed in silence across the river. Robert was conscious all the time of Jonathan’s harsh study of him. Finally Robert said, “I knew we wouldn’t be welcome.” He was resentful.
    “Of course we were welcome. Harald loves company. He loves everybody. He says so himself.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with liking people,” said Robert, pulling strongly on the oars.
    “I never did.”
    “Then, how could you become a physician and a surgeon?”
    Jonathan laughed. “I can still feel pity. Sometimes.” He stood up in the rocking boat. “Here. Let me take the oars for the last length.”
    When they reached the shore, Jonathan released his horses, which he had tethered near a tiny bubbling spring in the grove of birches.
    “Why don’t you join my mother and me for tea, Bob?”
    The sun was already dropping to the west and the heat was intense. The river was now pure bright gold.
    “Thank you, but no,” said Robert. “I—I have a lot of