the patrician-第19节

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together；　she　went　downstairs　to　her　little　dining…room；　set　the
spirit　lamp　going；　and　taking　up　her　newspaper；　stood　waiting　to　make
tea。

It　was　the　hour　of　the　day　most　dear　to　her。　　If　the　dew　had　been
brushed　off　her　life；　it　was　still　out　there　every　morning　on　the
face　of　Nature；　and　on　the　faces　of　her　flowers；　there　was　before　her
all　the　pleasure　of　seeing　how　each　of　those　little　creatures　in　the
garden　had　slept；　how　many　children　had　been　born　since　the　Dawn；　who
was　ailing；　and　needed　attention。　　There　was　also　the　feeling；　which
renews　itself　every　morning　in　people　who　live　lonely　lives；　that
they　are　not　lonely；　until；　the　day　wearing　on；　assures　them　of　the
fact。　　Not　that　she　was　idle；　for　she　had　obtained　through　Courtier
the　work　of　reviewing　music　in　a　woman's　paper；　for　which　she　was
intuitively　fitted。　　This；　her　flowers；　her　own　music；　and　the
affairs　of　certain　families　of　cottagers；　filled　nearly　all　her　time。
And　she　asked　no　better　fate　than　to　have　every　minute　occupied；
having　that　passion　for　work　requiring　no　initiation；　which　is
natural　to　the　owners　of　lazy　minds。

Suddenly　she　dropped　her　newspaper；　went　to　the　bowl　of　flowers　on
the　breakfast…table；　and　plucked　forth　two　stalks　of　lavender；
holding　them　away　from　her；　she　went　out　into　the　garden；　and　flung
them　over　the　wall。

This　strange　immolation　of　those　two　poor　sprigs；　born　so　early；
gathered　and　placed　before　her　with　such　kind　intention　by　her　maid；
seemed　of　all　acts　the　least　to　be　expected　of　one　who　hated　to　hurt
people's　feelings；　and　whose　eyes　always　shone　at　the　sight　of
flowers。　　But　in　truth　the　smell　of　lavenderthat　scent　carried　on
her　husband's　handkerchief　and　clothesstill　affected　her　so
strongly　that　she　could　not　bear　to　be　in　a　room　with　it。　　As　nothing
else　did；　it　brought　before　her　one；　to　live　with　whom　had　slowly
become　torture。　　And　freed　by　that　scent；　the　whole　flood　of　memory
broke　in　on　her。　　The　memory　of　three　years　when　her　teeth　had　been
set　doggedly；　on　her　discovery　that　she　was　chained　to　unhappiness
for　life；　the　memory　of　the　abrupt　end；　and　of　her　creeping　away　to
let　her　scorched　nerves　recover。　　Of　how　during　the　first　year　of
this　release　which　was　not　freedom；　she　had　twice　changed　her　abode；
to　get　away　from　her　own　storynot　because　she　was　ashamed　of　it；
but　because　it　reminded　her　of　wretchedness。　　Of　how　she　had　then
come　to　Monkland；　where　the　quiet　life　had　slowly　given　her
elasticity　again。　　And　then　of　her　meeting　with　Miltoun；　the
unexpected　delight　of　that　companionship；　the　frank　enjoyment　of　the
first　four　months。　　And　she　remembered　all　her　secret　rejoicing；　her
silent　identification　of　another　life　with　her　own；　before　she
acknowledged　or　even　suspected　love。　　And　just　three　weeks　ago　now；
helping　to　tie　up　her　roses；　he　had　touched　her；　and　she　had　known。
But　even　then；　until　the　night　of　Courtier's　accident；　she　had　not
dared　to　realize。　　More　concerned　now　for　him　than　for　herself；　she
asked　herself　a　thousand　times　if　she　had　been　to　blame。　　She　had　let
him　grow　fond　of　her；　a　woman　out　of　court；　a　dead　woman！　　An
unpardonable　sin！　　Yet　surely　that　depended　on　what　she　was　prepared
to　give！　　And　she　was　frankly　ready　to　give　everything；　and　ask　for
nothing。　　He　knew　her　position；　he　had　told　her　that　he　knew。　　In　her
love　for　him　she　gloried；　would　continue　to　glory；　would　suffer　for
it　without　regret。　　Miltoun　was　right　in　believing　that　newspaper
gossip　was　incapable　of　hurting　her；　though　her　reasons　for　being　so
impervious　were　not　what　he　supposed。　　She　was　not；　like　him；　secured
from　pain　because　such　insinuations　about　the　private　affairs　of
others　were　mean　and　vulgar　and　beneath　notice；　it　had　not　as　yet
occurred　to　her　to　look　at　the　matter　in　so　lofty　and　general　a
light；　she　simply　was　not　hurt；　because　she　was　already　so　deeply
Miltoun's　property　in　spirit；　that　she　was　almost　glad　that　they
should　assign　him　all　the　rest　of　her。　　But　for　Miltoun's　sake　she
was　disturbed　to　the　soul。　　She　had　tarnished　his　shield　in　the　eyes
of　men；　and　（for　she　was　oddly　practical；　and　saw　things　in　very
clear　proportion）　perhaps　put　back　his　career；　who　knew　how　many
years！

She　sat　down　to　drink　her　tea。　　Not　being　a　crying　woman；　she
suffered　quietly。　　She　felt　that　Miltoun　would　be　coming　to　her。　　She
did　not　know　at　all　what　she　should　say　when　he　did　come。　　He　could
not　care　for　her　so　much　as　she　cared　for　him！　　He　was　a　man；　men
soon　forget！　　Ah！　but　he　was　not　like　most　men。　　One　could　not　look
at　his　eyes　without　feeling　that　he　could　suffer　terribly！　　In　all
this　her　own　reputation　concerned　her　not　at　all。　　Life；　and　her
clear　way　of　looking　at　things；　had　rooted　in　her　the　conviction　that
to　a　woman　the　preciousness　of　her　reputation　was　a　fiction　invented
by　men　entirely　for　man's　benefit；　a　second…hand　fetish　insidiously；
inevitably　set…up　by　men　for　worship；　in　novels；　plays；　and　law…
courts。　　Her　instinct　told　her　that　men　could　not　feel　secure　in　the
possession　of　their　women　unless　they　could　believe　that　women　set
tremendous　store　by　sexual　reputation。　　What　they　wanted　to　believe；
that　they　did　believe！　　But　she　knew　otherwise。　　Such　great…minded
women　as　she　had　met　or　read　of　had　always　left　on　her　the　impression
that　reputation　for　them　was　a　matter　of　the　spirit；　having　little　to
do　with　sex。　　From　her　own　feelings　she　knew　that　reputation；　for　a
simple　woman；　meant　to　stand　well　in　the　eyes　of　him　or　her　whom　she
loved　best。　　For　worldly　womenand　there　were　so　many　kinds　of
those；　besides　the　merely　fashionableshe　had　always　noted　that　its
value　was　not　intrinsic；　but　commercial；　not　a　crown　of　dignity；　but
just　a　marketable　asset。　　She　did　not　dread　in　the　least　what　people
might　say　of　her　friendship　with　Miltoun；　nor　did　she　feel　at　all
that　her　indissoluble　marriage　forbade　her　loving　him。　　She　had
secretly　felt　free　as　soon　as　she　had　discovered　that　she　had　never
really　loved　her　husband；　she　had　only　gone　on　dutifully　until　the
separation；　from　sheer　passivity；　and　because　it　was　against　her
nature　to　cause　pain　to　anyone。　　The　man　who　was　still　her　husband
was　now　as　dead　to　her　as　if　he　had　never　been　born。　　She　could　not
marry　again；　it　was　true；　but　she　could　and　did　love。　　If　that　love
was　to　be　starved　and　die　away；　it　would　not　be　because　of　any　moral
scruples。

She　opened　her　paper　languidly；　and　almost　the　first　words　she　read；
under　the　heading　of　Election　News；　were　these：

'Apropos　of　the　outrage　on　Mr。　Courtier；　we　are　requested　to　state
that　the　lady　who　accompanied　Lord　Miltoun　to　the　rescue　of　that
gentleman　was　Mrs。　Lees　Noel；　wife　of　the　Rev。　Stephen　Lees　Noel；
vicar　of　Clathampton；　Warwickshire。'

This　dubious　little　daub　of　whitewash　only　brought　a　rather　sad　smile
to　her　lips。　　She　left　her　tea；　and　went　out　into　the　air。　　There　at
the　gate　was　Miltoun　coming　in。　　Her　heart　leaped。　　But　she　went
forward　quietly；　and　greeted　him　with　cast…down　eyes；　as　if　nothing
were　out　of　the　ordinary。




CHAPTER　XV

Exaltation　had　not　left　Miltoun。　　His　sallow　face　was　flushed；　his
eyes　glowed　with　a　sort　of　beauty；　and　Audrey　Noel　who；　better　than
most　women；　could　read　what　was　passing　behind　a　face；　saw　those　eyes
with　the　delight　of　a　moth　fluttering　towards　a　lamp。　　But　in　a　very
unemotional　voice　she　said：

〃So　you　have　come　to　breakfast。　　How　nice　of　you！

It　was　not　in　Miltoun　to　observe　the　formalities　of　attack。　　Had　he
been　going　to　fight　a　duel　there　would　have　been　no　preliminary；　just
a　look；　a　bow；　and　the　swords　crossed。　　So　in　this　first　engagement
of　his　with　the　soul　of　a　woman！

He　neither　sat　down　nor　suffered　her　to　sit；　but　stood　looking
intently　into　her　face；　and　said：

〃I　love　you。〃

Now　that　it　had　come；　with　this　disconcerting　swiftness；　she　was
strangely　calm；　and　unashamed。　　The　elation　of　knowing　for　sure　that
she　was　loved　was　like　a　wand　waving　away　all　tremors；　stilling　them
to　sweetness。　　Since　nothing　could　take　away　that　knowledge；　it
seemed　that　she　could　never　again　be　utterly　unhappy。　　Then；　too；　in
her　nature；　so　deeply；　unreasoningly　incapable　of　perceiving　the
importance　of　any　principle　but　love；　there　was　a　secret　feeling　of
assurance；　of　triumph。　　He　did　love　her！　　And　she；　him！　　Well！　　And
suddenly　panic…stricken；　lest　he　should　take　back　those　words；　she
put　her　hand　up　to　his　breast；　and　said：

〃And　I　love　you。〃

The　feel　of　his　arms　round　her；　the　strength　and　passion　of　that
moment；　were　so　terribly　sweet；　that　she　died　to　thought；　just
looking　up　at　him；　with　lips　parted　and　eyes　darker　with　the　depth　of
her　love　than　he　had　ever　dreamed　that　eyes　could　be。　　The　madness　of
his　own　feeling　kept　him　silent。　　And　they　stood　there；　so　merged　in
one　another　that　they　knew　and　cared　nothing　for　any　other　mortal
thing。　　It　was　very　still　in　the　room；　the　roses　and　carnations　in
the　lustre　bowl；　seeming　to　know　that　their　mistress　was　caught　up
into　heaven；　had　let　their　perfume　steal　forth　and　occupy　every
cranny　of　the　abandoned　air；　a　hovering　bee；　too；　circled　round　the
lovers'　heads；　scenting；　it　seemed；　the　honey　in　their　hearts。

It