the patrician-第10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！


had　still　some　of　the　eagerness　in　her　face　which　makes　children
lovable。　　Yet　she　looked　negligently　enough　at　the　citizens　of
Bucklandbury；　being　already　a　little　conscious　of　the　strange　mixture
of　sentiment　peculiar　to　her　countrymen　in　presence　of　herselfthat
curious　expression　on　their　faces　resulting　from　the　continual
attempt　to　look　down　their　noses　while　slanting　their　eyes　upwards。
Yes；　she　was　already　alive　to　that　mysterious　glance　which　had　built
the　national　house　and　insured　it　afterwardsfoe　to　cynicism；
pessimism；　and　anything　French　or　Russian；　parent　of　all　the　national
virtues；　and　all　the　national　vices；　of　idealism　and　muddle…
headedness；　of　independence　and　servility；　fosterer　of　conduct；
murderer　of　speculation；　looking　up；　and　looking　down；　but　never
straight　at　anything；　most　high；　most　deep；　most　queer；　and　ever
bubbling…up　from　the　essential　Well　of　Emulation。

Surrounded　by　that　glance；　waiting　for　Courtier；　Barbara；　not　less
British　than　her　neighbours；　was　secretly　slanting　her　own　eyes　up
and　down　over　the　absent　figure　of　her　new　acquaintance。　　She　too
wanted　something　she　could　look　up　to；　and　at　the　same　time　see
damned　first。　　And　in　this　knight…errant　it　seemed　to　her　that　she
had　got　it。

He　was　a　creature　from　another　world。　　She　had　met　many　men；　but　not
as　yet　one　quite　of　this　sort。　　It　was　rather　nice　to　be　with　a
clever　man；　who　had　none　the　less　done　so　many　outdoor　things；　been
through　so　many　bodily　adventures。　　The　mere　writers；　or　even　the
'Bohemians；'　whom　she　occasionally　met；　were　after　all　only
'chaplains　to　the　Court；'　necessary　to　keep　aristocracy　in　touch　with
the　latest　developments　of　literature　and　art。　　But　this　Mr。　Courtier
was　a　man　of　action；　he　could　not　be　looked　on　with　the　amused；
admiring　toleration　suited　to　men　remarkable　only　for　ideas；　and　the
way　they　put　them　into　paint　or　ink。　　He　had　used；　and　could　use；　the
sword；　even　in　the　cause　of　Peace。　　He　could　love；　had　loved；　or　so
they　said：　If　Barbara　had　been　a　girl　of　twenty　in　another　class；　she
would　probably　never　have　heard　of　this；　and　if　she　had　heard；　it
might　very　well　have　dismayed　or　shocked　her。　　But　she　had　heard；　and
without　shock；　because　she　had　already　learned　that　men　were　like
that；　and　women　too　sometimes。

It　was　with　quite　a　little　pang　of　concern　that　she　saw　him　hobbling
down　the　street　towards　her；　and　when　he　was　once　more　seated；　she
told　the　chauffeur：　〃To　the　station；　Frith。　　Quick；　please！〃　and
began：

〃You　are　not　to　be　trusted　a　bit。　　What　were　you　doing？〃

But　Courtier　smiled　grimly　over　the　head　of　Ann；　in　silence。

At　this；　almost　the　first　time　she　had　ever　yet　encountered　a
distinct　rebuff；　Barbara　quivered；　as　though　she　had　been　touched
lightly　with　a　whip。　　Her　lips　closed　firmly；　her　eyes　began　to
dance。　　〃Very　well；　my　dear；〃　she　thought。　　But　presently　stealing　a
look　at　him；　she　became　aware　of　such　a　queer　expression　on　his　face；
that　she　forgot　she　was　offended。

〃Is　anything　wrong；　Mr。　Courtier？〃

〃Yes；　Lady　Barbara；　something　is　very　wrongthat　miserable　mean
thing；　the　human　tongue。〃

Barbara　had　an　intuitive　knowledge　of　how　to　handle　things；　a　kind　of
moral　sangfroid；　drawn　in　from　the　faces　she　had　watched；　the　talk
she　had　heard；　from　her　youth　up。　　She　trusted　those　intuitions；　and
letting　her　eyes　conspire　with　his　over　Ann's　brown　hair；　she　said：

〃Anything　to　do　with　Mrs。　N…？〃　　Seeing　〃Yes〃　in　his　eyes；　she
added　quickly：　〃And　M…？〃）

Courtier　nodded。

〃I　thought　that　was　coming。　　Let　them　babble！　　Who　cares？〃

She　caught　an　approving　glance；　and　the　word；　〃Good！〃

But　the　car　had　drawn　up　at　Bucklandbury　Station。

The　little　grey　figure　of　Lady　Casterley；　coming　out　of　the　station
doorway；　showed　but　slight　sign　of　her　long　travel。　　She　stopped　to
take　the　car　in；　from　chauffeur　to　Courtier。

〃Well；　Frith！Mr。　Courtier；　is　it？　　I　know　your　book；　and　I　don't
approve　of　you；　you're　a　dangerous　manHow　do　you　do？　　I　must　have
those　two　bags。　　The　cart　can　bring　the　rest。。。。　　Randle；　get　up　in
front；　and　don't　get　dusty。　　Ann！〃　　But　Ann　was　already　beside　the
chauffeur；　having　long　planned　this　improvement。　　〃H'm！　　So　you've
hurt　your　leg；　sir？　　Keep　still！　　We　can　sit　three。。。。　　Now；　my　dear；
I　can　kiss　you！　　You've　grown！〃

Lady　Casterley's　kiss；　once　received；　was　never　forgotten；　neither
perhaps　was　Barbara's。　　Yet　they　were　different。　　For；　in　the　case　of
Lady　Casterley；　the　old　eyes；　bright　and　investigating；　could　be　seen
deciding　the　exact　spot　for　the　lips　to　touch；　then　the　face　with　its
firm　chin　was　darted　forward；　the　lips　paused　a　second；　as　though　to
make　quite　certain；　then　suddenly　dug　hard　and　dry　into　the　middle　of
the　cheek；　quavered　for　the　fraction　of　a　second　as　if　trying　to
remember　to　be　soft；　and　were　relaxed　like　the　elastic　of　a　catapult。
And　in　the　case　of　Barbara；　first　a　sort　of　light　came　into　her　eyes；
then　her　chin　tilted　a　little；　then　her　lips　pouted　a　little；　her
body　quivered；　as　if　it　were　getting　a　size　larger；　her　hair
breathed；　there　was　a　small　sweet　sound；　it　was　over。

Thus　kissing　her　grandmother；　Barbara　resumed　her　seat；　and　looked　at
Courtier。　　'Sitting　three'　as　they　were；　he　was　touching　her；　and　it
seemed　to　her　somehow　that　he　did　not　mind。

The　wind　had　risen；　blowing　from　the　West；　and　sunshine　was　flying　on
it。　　The　call　of　the　cuckoosa　little　sharpenedfollowed　the　swift…
travelling　car。　　And　that　essential　sweetness　of　the　moor；　born　of
the　heather　roots　and　the　South…West　wind；　was　stealing　out　from
under　the　young　ferns。

With　her　thin　nostrils　distended　to　this　scent；　Lady　Casterley　bore　a
distinct　resemblance　to　a　small；　fine　game…bird。

〃You　smell　nice　down　here；〃　she　said。　　〃Now；　Mr。　Courtier；　before　I
forgetwho　is　this　Mrs。　Lees　Noel　that　I　hear　so　much　of？〃

At　that　question；　Barbara　could　not　help　sliding　her　eyes　round。　　How
would　he　stand　up　to　Granny？　　It　was　the　moment　to　see　what　he　was
made　of。　　Granny　was　terrific！

〃A　very　charming　woman；　Lady　Casterley。〃

〃No　doubt；　but　I　am　tired　of　hearing　that。　　What　is　her　story？〃

〃Has　she　one？〃

〃Ha！〃　said　Lady　Casterley。

Ever　so　slightly　Barbara　let　her　arm　press　against　Courtiers。　　It　was
so　delicious　to　hear　Granny　getting　no　forwarder。

〃I　may　take　it　she　has　a　past；　then？〃

〃Not　from　me；　Lady　Casterley。〃

Again　Barbara　gave　him　that　imperceptible　and　flattering　touch。

〃Well；　this　is　all　very　mysterious。　　I　shall　find　out　for　myself。
You　know　her；　my　dear。　　You　must　take　me　to　see　her。〃

〃Dear　Granny！　　If　people　hadn't　pasts；　they　wouldn't　have　futures。〃

Lady　Casterley　let　her　little　claw…like　hand　descend　on　her　grand…
daughter's　thigh。

〃Don't　talk　nonsense；　and　don't　stretch　like　that！〃　she　said；　〃you're
too　large　already。。。。〃

At　dinner　that　night　they　were　all　in　possession　of　the　news。　　Sir
William　had　been　informed　by　the　local　agent　at　Staverton；　where　Lord
Harbinger's　speech　had　suffered　from　some　rude　interruptions。　　The
Hon。　Geoffrey　Winlow；　having　sent　his　wife　on；　had　flown　over　in　his
biplane　from　Winkleigh；　and　brought　a　copy　of　'the　rag'　with　him。
The　one　member　of　the　small　house…party　who　had　not　heard　the　report
before　dinner　was　Lord　Dennis　Fitz…Harold；　Lady　Casterley's　brother。

Little；　of　course；　was　said。　　But　after　the　ladies　had　withdrawn；
Harbinger；　with　that　plain…spoken　spontaneity　which　was　so
unexpected；　perhaps　a　little　intentionally　so；　in　connection　with　his
almost　classically　formed　face；　uttered　words　to　the　effect　that；　if
they　did　not　fundamentally　kick　that　rumour；　it　was　all　up　with
Miltoun。　　Really　this　was　serious！　　And　the　beggars　knew　it；　and　they
were　going　to　work　it。　　And　Miltoun　had　gone　up　to　Town；　no　one　knew
what　for。　　It　was　the　devil　of　a　mess！

In　all　the　conversation　of　this　young　man　there　was　that　peculiar
brand　of　voice；　which　seems　ever　rebutting　an　accusation　of　being
seriousa　brand　of　voice　and　manner　warranted　against　anything　save
ridicule；　and　in　the　face　of　ridicule　apt　to　disappear。　　The　words；
just　a　little　satirically　spoken：　〃What　is；　my　dear　young　man？〃
stopped　him　at　once。

Looking　for　the　complement　and　counterpart　of　Lady　Casterley；　one
would　perhaps　have　singled　out　her　brother。　　All　her　abrupt　decision
was　negated　in　his　profound；　ironical　urbanity。　　His　voice　and　look
and　manner　were　like　his　velvet　coat；　which　had　here　and　there　a
whitish　sheen；　as　if　it　had　been　touched　by　moonlight。　　His　hair　too
had　that　sheen。　　His　very　delicate　features　were　framed　in　a　white
beard　and　moustache　of　Elizabethan　shape。　　His　eyes；　hazel　and　still
clear；　looked　out　very　straight；　with　a　certain　dry　kindliness。　　His
face；　though　unweathered　and　unseamed；　and　much　too　fine　and　thin　in
texture；　had　a　curious　affinity　to　the　faces　of　old　sailors　or
fishermen　who　have　lived　a　simple；　practical　life　in　the　light　of　an
overmastering　tradition。　　It　was　the　face　of　a　man　with　a　very　set
creed；　and　inclined　to　be　satiric　towards　innovations；　examined　by
him　and　rejected　full　fifty　years　ago。　　One　felt　that　a　brain　not
devoid　either　of　subtlety　or　aesthetic　quality　had　long　given　up　all
attempts　to　interfere　with　con