the captives-第55节
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gry people behind her； she could out of the corner of her eye see the ruddy brown of his cheek and the hard thick curve of his shoulder。 She was his； she belonged to no one else in the world； she was his utterly。 Utterly。 Ever so swiftly and gently her hand brushed for an instant over his； he responded； crooking his little finger for a moment inside hers。 She smiled； she turned round and looked at the people triumphantly； she felt a deep contented rest in her heart； rich and full； proud and arrogant； the mother； the lover； the sister； the child； everything to him she was 。 。 。
People came in； the theatre filled； and a hum of talk arose； then the orchestra began to tune； and soon music was playing； and Maggie would have loved to listen but the people must chatter。
When suddenly the lights went down the only thing of which she was conscious was that Martin's hand had suddenly seized hers roughly； sharply； and was crushing it； pressing the ring into the flesh so that it hurt。 Her first excited wondering thought then was：
〃He doesn't care for me any more only as a friend。There's the other now 。 。 。〃 and a strange shyness； timidity； and triumph overwhelmed her so that her eyes were full of tears and her body trembling。
But as the play continued she must listen。 It was her very first play and soon it was thrilling to her so that she forgot； for a time； even Martin。 Or rather Martin was mingled with it； absorbed in it； part of it； and she was there too sharing with him the very action of the story。 It was a very old…fashioned play about a little Charity girl who was brought up by a kindly middle…aged gentleman who cared for nothing but books。 He brought her up on his own plan with a view to marrying her afterwards。 But meanwhile； of course； she saw a handsome young soldier who was young like herself； and she was naturally bored with the studious gentleman。 Maggie shared all the feelings of the Charity girl。 Had she been brought up； say by a man like Mr。 Trenchard and then had met Martin； why； of course； she could have gone only one way。
The soldier was not like Martin； being slim and curled and beautiful； nor was the studious gentleman like Mr。 Trenchard； being thin and tall with a face like a monk and a beautiful voice。 But the girl was like Maggie； prettier of course； and with artful ways； but untidy a little and not very well educated。 At the first interval； when the lights were up and the band was playing and the people walking； Martin whispered：
〃Do you like it； Maggie？〃
〃I love it；〃 she answered。
And then they just sat there； without another word between them； pressed close together。
A little song ran through the playone of Burns's most famous songs； although Maggie； who had never read anything； did not know that。 The verses were：
O my luve's like a red； red rose That's newly sprung in June： O my luve's like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune！
As fair art thou； my bonnie lass； So deep in luve am I： And I will luve thee still； my dear； Till a' the seas gang dry：
Till a' the seas gang dry； my dear； And the rocks melt wi' the sun； I will luve thee still； my dear； While the sands o' life shall run。
And fare thee weel； my only Luve； And fare thee weel a while！ And I will come again； my Luve； Tho' it were ten thousand mile。
First the handsome soldier sang this to the Charity girl； and then； because it was a sentimental tune； it was always turning up through the play； and if one of the characters were not singing it the orchestra was quietly playing it。 Maggie loved it； she was not sentimental but she was simple； and the tune seemed at once to belong to herself and to Martin by natural right。
As the story developed it became more unreal and Maggie's unerring knowledge of the difference between sense and nonsense refused to credit the tall handsome villainness who confronted the Charity girl at the ball。 The Charity girl had no right to be at the ball and people stood about in unnatural groups and pretended not to listen to the loud development of the plot and no one seemed to use any of their faculties。 Then at the end； when the middle…aged gentleman nobly surrendered his Charity girl to the handsome soldier； the little tune came back again and all was well。
They came out of the theatre into lights and shadows and mists cabs and omnibuses and crowds of people 。 。 。 Maggie clung to Martin's arm。 It seemed to her； dazzled for an instant； that a great are of white piercing light cut the black street and that in the centre of this arc a tree； painted green； stood； and round the tree figures； dark shapes； and odd shadows danced。 She shaded her eyes with her hand。 The long shining line of Shaftesbury Avenue ran out； from her feet； into thick clusters of silver lights。 The tree had vanished and now there were policemen and ladies in hats and strange mysterious houses。 She caught above it all； between the roofs； the pale flat river of the evening sky and in this river stars like golden buttons floated。 The moon was there too； a round amber coin with the laughing face stamped upon it。
〃What time is it？〃 she asked Martin。
〃Half…past five；〃 he said。 〃How early the moon rises。 It's only climbing now。 See the chimney's tossing it about。〃
〃I must get home。〃
〃No； no。〃 He held her arm fiercely。 〃You must come to tea。 That's part of the programme。 We have plenty of time before seven o'clock。〃 She knew that she ought to return。 Something seemed to tell her； as she stood there； that now was the moment to break this off。 But when his hand was on her arm； when he was so close to her； she could not leave him。 She would have one hour more 。 。 。 He took her across the street； down into darkness； up into light。 Then they went into a shop； up some stairs； and were suddenly in a little room with a table with a cloth； a window looking out into the lamp…lit square； cherry…coloured curtains and gay hunting pictures on the walls。 Martin pushed a bell in the wall and a stout waiter； perspiring； smiling； a napkin in his hand； came to the door。 〃Tea；〃 said Martin； and he vanished。 〃It's all right；〃 he said； drawing her to a creaking wicker armchair near the empty fireplace。 〃No one will interrupt us。 They know me here。 I ordered the room yesterday。〃 Tea came； but she could not eat anything。 In some strange way that moment in the theatre when he had pressed her hand had altered everything。 She recognised in herself a new Maggie； she was excited with a thick burning excitement； she was almost sleepy with the strain of it and her cheeks were hot； but her throat icy cold。 When she told him that she wasn't hungry； he said； 〃I'm not either。〃 Then he added； not looking at her； 〃That fellow won't be back for an hour。〃 He came and stood by her looking down on her。 He bent forward over the chair and put his hands under her chin and pressed her face up towards his。 But he did not kiss her。 Then he took her hands and pulled her gently out of the chair； sat down on it himself； then； still very tenderly； put his arms round her and drew her down to him。 She lay back against him； her cheek against his； his arms tight around her。 He whispered to her again and again； 〃Darling 。 。 。 Darling 。 。 。 Darling。〃 She felt now so terribly part of him that she seemed to have lost all her own identity。 His hands； softly； tenderly passed up and down her body； stroking her hair； her cheeks； her arms。 Her mouth was against his cheek and she was utterly motionless； shivering a little sometimes and once her hand moved up and caught his and then moved away again。 At last； as it seemed from an infinite distance； his voice came to her； speaking to her。 〃Maggie； darling；〃 he said； 〃don't go back till late to…night。 You can say that those people asked you to stay to dinner。 Your aunts can't do anything。 Nothing can happen。 Stay with me here and then later we'll go and have dinner at a little place I know 。 。 。 and then come back here 。 。 。 come back here 。 。 。 like this。 Maggie； darling； say you will。 You must。 We mayn't have another chance for so long。 You're coming to me afterwards。 What does it matter； a week or two earlier？ What does it matter； Maggie？ Stay here。 Let us love one another and have something to think about 。 。 。 to remember 。 。 。 to remember 。 。 。 to remember 。 。 。〃 His voice seemed to slip away into infinity as voices in a dream do。 She could not say anything because she was in a dream too。 She could only feel his hand stroking her face。 He seemed to take her silence for consent。 He suddenly kissed her furiously； pressing her head back until it hurt。 That woke her。 She pushed his arms back and sprang up。 Her hands were trembling。 She shook her head。 〃No； Martin。 No； not now。〃 〃Why not？〃 He looked at her angrily from the chair。 His face was altered； he was frowning； his eyes were dark。 〃I'm not going to stay now。〃 Her voice shook in spite of herself。 With shaking hands she patted her dress。 〃Why not？〃 he asked again。 〃I'm not。 I promised the aunts。 Not now。 It would spoil everything。〃 〃Oh； very well。〃 He was furious with her。 He wouldn't meet her eyes。 〃Not now。〃 She felt that she would cry； tears flooded her eyes。 〃It's been so lovely 。 。 。 Martin 。 。 。 Don't look like that。 Oh； I love you too much！〃 She broke off。 With a sudden move
