villa rubein and other stories-第38节

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any　kind。。。。



But　to　go　back。　　On　Sunday；　the　day　after　I　wrote；　as　I　was　coming

from　a　walk；　I　met　a　little　boy　making　mournful　sounds　on　a　tin

whistle。



〃Coom　ahn！〃　he　said；　〃the　Miss　wahnts　t'　zee　yu。〃



I　went　to　her　room。　　In　the　morning　she　had　seemed　better；　but　now

looked　utterly　exhausted。　　She　had　a　letter　in　her　hand。



〃It's　this；〃　she　said。　　〃I　don't　seem　to　understand　it。　　He　wants　me

to　do　somethingbut　I　can't　think；　and　my　eyes　feel　funny。　　Read　it

to　me；　please。〃



The　letter　was　from　Zachary。　　I　read　it　to　her　in　a　low　voice；　for

Mrs。　Hopgood　was　in　the　room；　her　eyes　always　fixed　on　Pasiance　above

her　knitting。　　When　I'd　finished；　she　made　me　read　it　again；　and　yet

again。　　At　first　she　seemed　pleased；　almost　excited；　then　came　a

weary；　scornful　look；　and　before　I'd　finished　the　third　time　she　was

asleep。　　It　was　a　remarkable　letter；　that　seemed　to　bring　the　man

right　before　one's　eyes。　　I　slipped　it　under　her　fingers　on　the　bed…

clothes；　and　went　out。　　Fancy　took　me　to　the　cliff　where　she　had

fallen。　　I　found　the　point　of　rock　where　the　cascade　of　ivy　flows

down　the　cliff；　the　ledge　on　which　she　had　climbed　was　a　little　to　my

righta　mad　place。　　It　showed　plainly　what　wild　emotions　must　have

been　driving　her！　　Behind　was　a　half…cut　cornfield　with　a　fringe　of

poppies；　and　swarms　of　harvest　insects　creeping　and　flying；　in　the

uncut　corn　a　landrail　kept　up　a　continual　charring。　　The　sky　was　blue

to　the　very　horizon；　and　the　sea　wonderful；　under　that　black　wild

cliff　stained　here　and　there　with　red。　　Over　the　dips　and　hollows　of

the　fields　great　white　clouds　hung　low　down　above　the　land。　　There

are　no　brassy；　east…coast　skies　here；　but　always　sleepy；　soft…shaped

clouds；　full　of　subtle　stir　and　change。　　Passages　of　Zachary's

Pearse's　letter　kept　rising　to　my　lips。　　After　all　he's　the　man　that

his　native　place；　and　life；　and　blood　have　made　him。　　It　is　useless

to　expect　idealists　where　the　air　is　soft　and　things　good　to　look　on

（the　idealist　grows　where　he　must　create　beauty　or　comfort　for

himself）；　useless　to　expect　a　man　of　law　and　order；　in　one　whose

fathers　have　stared　at　the　sea　day　and　night　for　a　thousand　years

the　sea；　full　of　its　promises　of　unknown　things；　never　quite　the

same；　a　slave　to　its　own　impulses。　　Man　is　an　imitative　animal。。。。



〃Life's　hard　enough；〃　he　wrote；　〃without　tying　yourself　down。　　Don't

think　too　hardly　of　me！　　Shall　I　make　you　happier　by　taking　you　into

danger？　　If　I　succeed　you'll　be　a　rich　woman；　but　I　shall　fail　if

you're　with　me。　　To　look　at　you　makes　me　soft。　　At　sea　a　man　dreams

of　all　the　good　things　on　land；　he'll　dream　of　the　heather；　and

honeyyou're　like　that；　and　he'll　dream　of　the　apple…trees；　and　the

grass　of　the　orchardsyou're　like　that；　sometimes　he　only　lies　on

his　back　and　wishesand　you're　like　that；　most　of　all　like　that。。。。〃



When　I　was　reading　those　words　I　remember　a　strange；　soft；　half…

scornful　look　came　over　Pasiance's　face；　and　once　she　said；　〃But

that's　all　nonsense；　isn't　it。。。？〃



Then　followed　a　long　passage　about　what　he　would　gain　if　he

succeeded；　about　all　that　he　was　risking；　the　impossibility　of

failure；　if　he　kept　his　wits　about　him。　　〃It's　only　a　matter　of　two

months　or　so；〃　he　went　on；　〃stay　where　you　are；　dear；　or　go　to　my

Dad。　　He'll　be　glad　to　have　you。　　There's　my　mother's　room。　　There's

no　one　to　say　'No'　to　your　fiddle　there；　you　can　play　it　by　the　sea；

and　on　dark　nights　you'll　have　the　stars　dancing　to　you　over　the

water　as　thick　as　bees。　　I've　looked　at　them　often；　thinking　of

you。。。。〃



Pasiance　had　whispered　to　me；　〃Don't　read　that　bit；〃　and　afterwards　I

left　it　out。。。。　　Then　the　sensuous　side　of　him　shows　up：　〃When　I've

brought　this　off；　there's　the　whole　world　before　us。　　There　are

places　I　can　take　you　to。　　There's　one　I　know；　not　too　warm　and　not

too　cold；　where　you　can　sit　all　day　in　the　shade　and　watch　the

creepers；　and　the　cocoa…palms；　still　as　still；　nothing　to　do　or　care

about；　all　the　fruits　you　can　think　of；　no　noise　but　the　parrots　and

the　streams；　and　a　splash　when　a　nigger　dives　into　a　water…hole。

Pasiance；　we'll　go　there！　　With　an　eighty…ton　craft　there's　no　sea　we

couldn't　know。　　The　world's　a　fine　place　for　those　who　go　out　to　take

it；　there's　lots　of　unknown　stuff'　in　it　yet。　　I'll　fill　your　lap；　my

pretty；　so　full　of　treasures　that　you　shan't　know　yourself。　　A　man

wasn't　meant　to　sit　at　home。。。。〃



Throughout　this　letterfor　all　its　real　passionone　could　feel　how

the　man　was　holding　to　his　purposethe　rather　sordid　purpose　of　this

venture。　　He's　unconscious　of　it；　for　he　is　in　love　with　her；　but　he

must　be　furthering　his　own　ends。　　He　is　vitalhorribly　vital！　　I

wonder　less　now　that　she　should　have　yielded。



What　visions　hasn't　he　dangled　before　her。　　There　was　physical

attraction；　tooI　haven't　forgotten　the　look　I　saw　on　her　face　at

Black　Mill。　　But　when　all's　said　and　done；　she　married　him；　because

she's　Pasiance　Voisey；　who　does　things　and　wants　〃to　get　back。〃　　And

she　lies　there　dying；　not　he　nor　any　other　man　will　ever　take　her

away。　　It's　pitiful　to　think　of　him　tingling　with　passion；　writing

that　letter　to　this　doomed　girl　in　that　dark　hole　of　a　saloon。　　〃I've

wanted　money；〃　he　wrote；　〃ever　since　I　was　a　little　chap　sitting　in

the　fields　among　the　cows。。。。　　I　want　it　for　you　now；　and　I　mean　to

have　it。　　I've　studied　the　thing　two　years；　I　know　what　I　know。。。。



The　moment　this　is　in　the　post　I　leave　for　London。　　There　are　a

hundred　things　to　look　after　still；　I　can't　trust　myself　within　reach

of　you　again　till　the　anchor's　weighed。　　When　I　re…christened　her　the

Pied　Witch；　I　thought　of　youyou　witch　to　me。。。。〃



There　followed　a　solemn　entreaty　to　her　to　be　on　the　path　leading　to

the　cove　at　seven　o'clock　on　Wednesday　evening　（that　is；　to…morrow）

when　he　would　come　ashore　and　bid　her　good…bye。　　It　was　signed；　〃Your

loving　husband；　Zachary　Pearse。。。。〃



I　lay　at　the　edge　of　that　cornfield　a　long　time；　it　was　very

peaceful。　　The　church　bells　had　begun　to　ring。　　The　long　shadows　came

stealing　out　from　the　sheaves；　woodpigeons　rose　one　by　one；　and

flapped　off　to　roost；　the　western　sky　was　streaked　with　red；　and　all

the　downs　and　combe　bathed　in　the　last　sunlight。　　Perfect　harvest

weather；　but　oppressively　still；　the　stillness　of　suspense。。。。



Life　at　the　farm　goes　on　as　usual。　　We　have　morning　and　evening

prayers。　　John　Ford　reads　them　fiercely；　as　though　he　were　on　the　eve

of　a　revolt　against　his　God。　　Morning　and　evening　he　visits　her；

comes　out　wheezing　heavily；　and　goes　to　his　own　room；　I　believe；　to

pray。　　Since　this　morning　I　haven't　dared　meet　him。　　He　is　a　strong

old　manbut　this　will　break　him　up。。。。









VII



〃KINGSWEAR；　Saturday；　i3tb　August。



It's　overI　leave　here　to…morrow；　and　go　abroad。



A　quiet　afternoonnot　a　breath　up　in　the　churchyard！　　I　was　there

quite　half　an　hour　before　they　came。　　Some　red　cows　had　strayed　into

the　adjoining　orchard；　and　were　rubbing　their　heads　against　the

railing。　　While　I　stood　there　an　old　woman　came　and　drove　them　away；

afterwards；　she　stooped　and　picked　up　the　apples　that　had　fallen

before　their　time。



〃The　apples　are　ripe　and　ready　to　fall；

Oh！　heigh…ho！　and　ready　to　fall；

There　came　an　old　woman　and　gathered　them　all；

Oh！　heigh…ho！　and　gathered　them　all。〃



。。。。。。They　brought　Pasiance　very　simplyno　hideous　funeral

trappings；　thank　Godthe　farm　hands　carried　her；　and　there　was　no

one　there　but　John　Ford；　the　Hopgoods；　myself；　and　that　young　doctor。

They　read　the　service　over　her　grave。　　I　can　hear　John　Ford's　〃Amen！〃

now。　　When　it　was　over　he　walked　away　bareheaded　in　the　sun；　without

a　word。　　I　went　up　there　again　this　evening；　and　wandered　amongst　the

tombstones。　　〃Richard　Voisey；〃　〃John；　the　son　of　Richard　and

Constance　Voisey；〃　〃Margery　Voisey；〃　so　many　generations　of　them　in

that　corner；　then　〃Richard　Voisey　and　Agnes　his　wife；〃　and　next　to　it

that　new　mound　on　which　a　sparrow　was　strutting　and　the　shadows　of

the　apple…trees　already　hovering。



I　will　tell　you　the　little　left　to　tell。。。。



On　Wednesday　afternoon　she　asked　for　me　again。



〃It's　only　till　seven；〃　she　whispered。　　〃He's　certain　to　come　then。

But　if　Iwere　to　die　firstthen　tell　himI'm　sorry　for　him。　　They

keep　saying：　'Don't　talkdon't　talk！'　Isn't　it　stupid？　　As　if　I

should　have　any　other　chance！　　There'll　be　no　more　talking　after　to…

night！　　Make　everybody　come；　pleaseI　want　to　see　them　all。　　When

you're　dying　you're　freer　than　any　other　timenobody　wants　you　to　do

things；　nobody　cares　what　you　say。。。。　　He　promised　me　I　should　do

what　I　liked　if　I　married　himI　never　believed　that　reallybut　now

I　can　do　what　I　like；　and　say　all　the　things　I　want　to。〃　　She　lay

back　silent；　she　could　not　after　all　speak　the　inmost　thoughts　that

are　in　each　of　us；　so　sacred　that　they　melt　away　at　the　approach　of

words。



I　shall　remember　her　like　thatw