the captives-第89节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


saw　it　all。　She　could　completely　capture　him　by　responding　to　his　passion。　Without　that　she　was　too　queer；　too　untidy；　too　undisciplined；　to　hold　him　at　all。　But　she　could　not　lie；　she　could　not　pretend。

She　kissed　him。

〃Paul；　let's　be　friends；　then。　Splendid　friends。　Oh！　we　will　be　happy！〃

But　as　he　kissed　her　she　knew　that　she　had　lost　him。

Paul　was　very　kind　to　her　during　their　stay　at　Little　Harben；　but　they　recovered　none　of　that　old　friendship　that　had　been　theirs　before　they　married。　Too　many　things　were　now　between　them。　By　the　end　of　that　month　Maggie　longed　to　return　to　Skeaton。　It　was　not　only　that　she　felt　crushed　and　choked　by　the　strangling　green　that　hemmed　in　the　old　housethe　weeds　and　the　trees；　and　the　plants　seemed　to　draw　in　the　night　closer　and　closer　about　the　windows　and　doorsbut　also　solitude　with　Paul　was　revealing　to　her；　in　a　ruthless；　cruel　manner；　his　weaknesses。　They　were　none　of　them；　perhaps；　very　terrible；　but　she　did　not　wish　to　see　them。　She　would　like　to　shut　her　eyes　to　them　all。　If　she　lost　that　friendly　kindness　that　she　felt　for　him　then　indeed　she　had　lost　everything。　She　felt　as　though　he　were　wilfully　trying　to　tug　it　away　from　her。

Why　was　it　that　she　had　never　shrunk　from　the　faults　of　Martin　and　Uncle　Mathewfaults　so　plain　and　obviousand　now　shrunk　from　Paul's？　Paul's　were　such　little　onesa　desire　for　praise　and　appreciation；　a　readiness　to　be　cheated　into　believing　that　all　was　well　when　he　knew　that　things　were　very　wrong；　an　eagerness　to　be　liked　even　by　quite　worthless　people；　sloth　and　laziness；　living　lies　that　were　of　no　importance　save　as　sign…posts　to　the　cowardice　of　his　soul。　Yes；　cowardice！　That　was　the　worst　of　all。　Was　it　his　religion　that　had　made　him　cowardly？　Why　was　Maggie　so　terribly　certain　that　if　the　necessity　for　physical　defence　of　her　or　some　helpless　creature　arose　Paul　would　evade　it　and　talk　about　〃turning　the　other　cheek〃？　He　was　so　large　a　man　and　so　softa　terrific　egoist　finally；　in　the　centre　of　his　soul；　an　egoist　barricaded　by　superstitions　and　fears　and　lies；　but　not　a　ruthless　egoist；　because　that　demanded　energy。

And　yet；　with　all　this；　he　had　so　many　good　points。　He　was　a　child；　a　baby；　like　so　many　clergymen。　Even　her　father　could　have　been　defended　by　that　plea　。　。　。

He　was　not　radically　bad；　he　was　radically　good；　but　he　had　never　known　discipline　or　real　sorrow　or　hardship。　Wrapped　in　cotton　wool　all　his　life；　spoilt；　indulged；　treated　by　the　world　as　men　treat　women。　His　effeminacy　was　the　result　of　his　training　because　he　had　always　been　sheltered。　Now　his　contact　with　Maggie　was　presenting　him　for　the　first　time　with　Reality。　Would　he　face　and　grapple　with　it；　or　would　he　slip　away；　evade　it；　and　creep　back　into　his　padded　castle？

The　return　to　Skeaton　and　the　winter　that　followed　it　did　not　answer　that　question。　Maggie；　Grace；　and　Paul　were　figures；　guarded　and　defended；　outwardly　friendly。　Grace　behaved　during　those　months　very　well；　but　Maggie　knew　that　this　was　a　fresh　sign　of　hostility。　The　〃Chut…Chut；〃　〃My　dear　child；〃　and　the　rest　that　had　been　so　irritating　had　been　after　all　signs　of　intimacy。　They　were　now　withdrawn。　Maggie　made　herself　during　that　winter　and　the　spring　that　followed　as　busy　as　possible。　She　ruthlessly　forbade　all　thoughts　of　Martin；　of　the　aunts；　of　London；　she　scarcely　saw　Caroline；　and　the　church　was　her　fortress。　She　seemed　to　be　flung　from　service　to　service；　to　be　singing　in　the　choir　（she　had　no　voice）；　asking　children　their　catechism；　listening　to　Paul's　high；　rather　strained；　voice　reading　the　lessons；　talking　politely　to　Mrs。　Maxse　or　one　of　the　numerous　girls；　knitting　and　sewing　（always　so　badly）；　and　above　all　struggling　to　remember　the　things　that　she　was　for　ever　forgetting。　Throughout　this　period　she　was　pervaded　by　the　damp；　oily　smell　of　the　heated　church；　always　too　hot；　always　too　close；　always　too　breathless。

She　had　many　headaches；　she　liked　them　because　they　held　back　her　temptation　to　think　of　forbidden　things。

Gradually；　although　she　did　not　know　it；　the　impression　gained　ground　that　she　was　〃queer。〃　She　had　not　been　to　the　Toms'　often；　but　she　was　spoken　of　as　their　friend。　She　had　seen　Caroline；　who　was　now　considered　by　the　church　a　most　scandalous　figure；　scarcely　at　all；　but　it　was　known　that　she　was　an　old　friend。　Above　all；　it　was　understood　that　the　rector　and　his　wife　were　not　happy。

〃Oh；　she's　oddlooks　more　like　a　boy　than　a　woman。　She　never　says　anything；　seems　to　have　no　ideas。　I　don't　believe　she's　religious　really　either。〃

She　knew　nothing　of　this。　She　did　not　notice　that　she　was　not　asked　often　to　other　houses。　People　were　kind　（the　Skeaton　people　were　neither　malicious　nor　cruel）　but　left　her　more　and　more　alone。　She　said　to　herself　again　and　again：　〃I　must　make　this　a　successI　must〃but　the　words　were　becoming　mechanical。　It　was　like　tramping　a　treadmill：　she　got　no　further；　only　became　more　and　more　exhausted。　That　spring　and　summer　people　noticed　her　white　face　and　strange　eyes。　〃Oh；　she's　a　queer　girl；〃　they　said。

The　summer　was　very　hot　with　a　little　wind　that　blew　the　sand　everywhere。　Strange　how　that　sand　succeeded　in　penetrating　into　the　very　depth　of　the　town。　The　sand　lay　upon　the　pavement　of　the　High　Street　so　that　your　feet　gritted　as　you　walked。　The　woods　and　houses　lay　for　nearly　two　months　beneath　a　blazing　sun。　There　was　scarcely　any　rain。　The　little　garden　behind　the　Rectory　was　parched　and　brown；　the　laurel　bushes　were　grey　with　dust。　They　saw　very　few　people　that　summer；　many　of　their　friends　had　escaped。

Maggie；　thinking　of　the　green　depths　of　Harben　a　year　ago；　longed　for　its　coolness；　nevertheless　she　was　happy　to　think　that　she　would　never　have　to　see　Harben　again。

As　she　had　foretold；　laziness　settled　upon　Paul。　What　he　loved　best　was　to　sink　into　his　old　armchair　in　the　dusty　study　and　read　old　volumes　of　Temple　Bar　and　the　Cornhill。　He　had　them　piled　at　his　side；　he　read　article　after　article　about　such　subjects　as　〃The　Silkworm　Industry〃　and　〃Street　Signs　of　the　Eighteenth　Century。〃　He　was　very　proud　of　his　sermons；　but　now　he　seldom　gave　a　new　one。　He　always　intended　to。　〃Don't　let　any　one　disturb　me　to…night；　Maggie；〃　he　would　say　at　supper　on　Fridays。　〃I've　got　my　sermon。〃　But　on　entering　the　study　he　remembered　that　there　was　an　article　in　Temple　Bar　that　he　must　finish。　He　also　read　the　Church　Times　right　through；　including　the　advertisements。　Grace　gradually　resumed　her　old　functions。

She　maintained；　however；　an　elaborate　pretence　of　leaving　everything　to　Maggie。　Especially　was　she　delighted　when　Maggie　forgot　something。　When　that　happened　she　said　nothing；　her　mouth　curled　a　little。　She　treated　Maggie　less　and　less　to　her　garrulous　confidences。　They　would　sit　for　hours　in　the　drawing…room　together　without　exchanging　a　word。　Maggie　and　Paul　had　now　different　bedrooms。　Early　in　the　autumn　Maggie　had　a　little　note　from　Mr。　Magnus。　It　said：

〃You　have　not　written　to　any　of　us　for　months。　Won't　you　come　just　for　a　night　to　see　your　aunts？　At　least　let　us　know　that　you　are　happy。〃

She　cried　that　night　in　bed；　squeezing　her　head　into　the　pillow　so　that　no　one　should　hear　her。　She　seemed　to　have　lost　all　her　pluck。　She　must　do　something；　but　what？　She　did　not　know　how　to　deal　with　people。　If　they　were　kind　and　friendly　there　were　so　many　things　that　she　could　do；　but　this　silent　creeping　away　from　her　paralysed　her。　She　remembered　how　she　had　said　to　Katherine：　〃No　one　can　make　me　unhappy　if　I　do　not　wish　it　to　be。〃　Now　she　did　not　dare　to　think　how　unhappy　she　was。　She　knew　that　they　all　thought　her　strange　and　odd；　and　she　felt　that　strangeness　creeping　upon　her。　She　MUST　be　odd　if　many　people　thought　her　so。　She　became　terribly　self…　conscious；　wondering　whether　her　words　and　movements　were　strange。

She　was　often　so　tired　that　she　could　not　drag　one　foot　after　another。

A　few　weeks　before　Christmas　something　happened。　A　terrible　thing；　perhapsbut　she　was　delivered　by　it　。　。　。

She　was　sitting　one　afternoon　a　few　weeks　before　Christmas　in　the　drawing…room　alone　with　Grace。　It　was　her　〃At　Home〃　day；　a　Friday　afternoon。　Grace　was　knitting　a　grey　stocking；　a　long　one　that　curled　on　her　lap。　She　knitted　badly；　clumsily；　twisting　her　fingers　into　odd　shapes　and　muddling　her　needles。　Now　and　then　she　would　look　up　as　though　she　meant　to　talk；　and　then　remembering　that　it　was　Maggie　who　was　opposite　to　her　she　would　purse　her　lips　and　look　down　again。　The　fire　hummed　and　sputtered；　the　clock　ticked；　and　Grace　breathed　in　heavy　despairing　pants　over　the　difficulties　of　her　work。　The　door　opened　and　the　little　maid；　her　eyes　nervously　wandering　towards　Grace；　murmured；　〃Mr。　Cardinal；　mum。〃

The　next　thing　of　which　Maggie　was　conscious　was　Uncle　Mathew　standing　clumsily　just　inside　the　door　shifting　his　bowler　hat　between　his　two　hands。

The　relief　of　seeing　him　was　so　great　that　she　jumped　up　and　ran　towards　him　crying；　〃Oh；　Uncle　Mathew！　I'm　so　glad！　At　last！〃

He　dropped　his　bowler　in　giving　her　his　hand。　She　noticed　at　once　that　he　was　looking　very　unhappy　and　had　terribly　run　to　seed。

He　was　badly　shaved；　his　blue　suit　was　shabby　and　soiled。　He　was　fatter；　and　his　whole　body　was　flabby　and　unc