the patrician-第20节

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cranny　of　the　abandoned　air；　a　hovering　bee；　too；　circled　round　the
lovers'　heads；　scenting；　it　seemed；　the　honey　in　their　hearts。

It　has　been　said　that　Miltoun's　face　was　not　unhandsome；　for　Audrey
Noel　at　this　moment　when　his　eyes　were　so　near　hers；　and　his　lips
touching　her；　he　was　transfigured；　and　had　become　the　spirit　of　all
beauty。　　And　she；　with　heart　beating　fast　against　him；　her　eyes；　half
closing　from　delight；　and　her　hair　asking　to　be　praised　with　its
fragrance；　her　cheeks　fainting　pale　with　emotion；　and　her　arms　too
languid　with　happiness　to　embrace　himshe；　to　him；　was　the
incarnation　of　the　woman　that　visits　dreams。

So　passed　that　moment。

The　bee　ended　it；　who；　impatient　with　flowers　that　hid　their　honey　so
deep；　had　entangled　himself　in　Audrey's　hair。　　And　then；　seeing　that
words；　those　dreaded　things；　were　on　his　lips；　she　tried　to　kiss　them
back。　　But　they　came：

〃When　will　you　marry　me？〃

It　all　swayed　a　little。　　And　with　marvellous　rapidity　the　whole
position　started　up　before　her。　　She　saw；　with　preternatural　insight；
into　its　nooks　and　corners。　　Something　he　had　said　one　day；　when　they
were　talking　of　the　Church　view　of　marriage　and　divorce；　lighted　all
up。　　So　he　had　really　never　known　about　her！　　At　this　moment　of　utter
sickness；　she　was　saved　from　fainting　by　her　sense　of　humourher
cynicism。　　Not　content　to　let　her　be；　people's　tongues　had　divorced
her；　he　had　believed　them！　　And　the　crown　of　irony　was　that　he　should
want　to　marry　her；　when　she　felt　so　utterly；　so　sacredly　his；　to　do
what　he　liked　with　sans　forms　or　ceremonies。　　A　surge　of　bitter
feeling　against　the　man　who　stood　between　her　and　Miltoun　almost　made
her　cry　out。　　That　man　had　captured　her　before　she　knew　the　world　or
her　own　soul；　and　she　was　tied　to　him；　till　by　some　beneficent　chance
he　drew　his　last　breath　when　her　hair　was　grey；　and　her　eyes　had　no
love　light；　and　her　cheeks　no　longer　grew　pale　when　they　were　kissed；
when　twilight　had　fallen；　and　the　flowers；　and　bees　no　longer　cared
for　her。

It　was　that　feeling；　the　sudden　revolt　of　the　desperate　prisoner；
which　steeled　her　to　put　out　her　hand；　take　up　the　paper；　and　give　it
to　Miltoun。

When　he　had　read　the　little　paragraph；　there　followed　one　of　those
eternities　which　last　perhaps　two　minutes。

He　said；　then：

〃It's　true；　I　suppose？〃　　And；　at　her　silence；　added：　〃I　am　sorry。〃

This　queer　dry　saying　was　so　much　more　terrible　than　any　outcry；　that
she　remained；　deprived　even　of　the　power　of　breathing；　with　her　eyes
still　fixed　on　Miltoun's　face。

The　smile　of　the　old　Cardinal　had　come　up　there；　and　was　to　her　like
a　living　accusation。　　It　seemed　strange　that　the　hum　of　the　bees　and
flies　and　the　gentle　swishing　of　the　limetree　should　still　go　on
outside；　insisting　that　there　was　a　world　moving　and　breathing　apart
from　her；　and　careless　of　her　misery。　　Then　some　of　her　courage　came
back；　and　with　it　her　woman's　mute　power。　　It　came　haunting　about　her
face；　perfectly　still；　about　her　lips；　sensitive　and　drawn；　about　her
eyes；　dark；　almost　mutinous　under　their　arched　brows。　　She　stood；
drawing　him　with　silence　and　beauty。

At　last　he　spoke：

〃I　have　made　a　foolish　mistake；　it　seems。　　I　believed　you　were　free。〃

Her　lips　just　moved　for　the　words　to　pass：　〃I　thought　you　knew。　　I
never；　dreamed　you　would　want　to　marry　me。〃

It　seemed　to　her　natural　that　he　should　be　thinking　only　of　himself；
but　with　the　subtlest　defensive　instinct；　she　put　forward　her　own
tragedy：

〃I　suppose　I　had　got　too　used　to　knowing　I　was　dead。〃

〃Is　there　no　release？〃

〃None。　　We　have　neither　of　us　done　wrong；　besides　with　him；　marriage
isfor　ever。〃

〃My　God！〃

She　had　broken　his　smile；　which　had　been　cruel　without　meaning　to　be
cruel；　and　with　a　smile　of　her　own　that　was　cruel　too；　she　said：

〃I　didn't　know　that　you　believed　in　release　either。〃

Then；　as　though　she　had　stabbed　herself　in　stabbing　him；　her　face
quivered。

He　looked　at　her　now；　conscious　at　last　that　she　was　suffering。　　And
she　felt　that　he　was　holding　himself　in　with　all　his　might　from
taking　her　again　into　his　arms。　　Seeing　this；　the　warmth　crept　back
to　her　lips；　and　a　little　light　into　her　eyes；　which　she　kept　hidden
from　him。　　Though　she　stood　so　proudly　still；　some　wistful　force　was
coming　from　her；　as　from　a　magnet；　and　Miltoun's　hands　and　arms　and
face　twitched　as　though　palsied。　　This　struggle；　dumb　and　pitiful；
seemed　never　to　be　coming　to　an　end　in　the　little　white　room；
darkened　by　the　thatch　of　the　verandah；　and　sweet　with　the　scent　of
pinks　and　of　a　wood　fire　just　lighted　somewhere　out　at　the　back。
Then；　without　a　word；　he　turned　and　went　out。　　She　heard　the　wicket
gate　swing　to。　　He　was　gone。




CHAPTER　XVI

Lord　Denis　was　fly…fishingthe　weather　just　too　bright　to　allow　the
little　trout　of　that　shallow；　never　silent　stream　to　embrace　with
avidity　the　small　enticements　which　he　threw　in　their　direction。
Nevertheless　he　continued　to　invite　them；　exploring　every　nook　of
their　watery　pathway　with　his　soft…swishing　line。　　In　a　rough　suit
and　battered　hat　adorned　with　those　artificial　and　other　flies；　which
infest　Harris　tweed；　he　crept　along　among　the　hazel　bushes　and　thorn…
trees；　perfectly　happy。　　Like　an　old　spaniel；　who　has　once　gloried　in
the　fetching　of　hares；　rabbits；　and　all　manner　of　fowl；　and　is　now
glad　if　you　will　but　throw　a　stick　for　him；　so　one；　who　had　been　a
famous　fisher　before　the　Lord；　who　had　harried　the　waters　of　Scotland
and　Norway；　Florida　and　Iceland；　now　pursued　trout　no　bigger　than
sardines。　　The　glamour　of　a　thousand　memories　hallowed　the　hours　he
thus　spent　by　that　brown　water。　　He　fished　unhasting；　religious；　like
some　good　Catholic　adding　one　more　to　the　row　of　beads　already　told；
as　though　he　would　fish　himself；　gravely；　without　complaint；　into　the
other　world。　　With　each　fish　caught　he　experienced　a　solemn
satisfaction。

Though　he　would　have　liked　Barbara　with　him　that　morning；　he　had　only
looked　at　her　once　after　breakfast　in　such　a　way　that　she　could　not
see　him；　and　with　a　dry　smile　gone　off　by　himself。　　Down　by　the
stream　it　was　dappled；　both　cool　and　warm；　windless；　the　trees　met
over　the　river；　and　there　were　many　stones；　forming　little　basins
which　held　up　the　ripple；　so　that　the　casting　of　a　fly　required　much
cunning。　　This　long　dingle　ran　for　miles　through　the　foot…growth　of
folding　hills。　　It　was　beloved　of　jays；　but　of　human　beings　there
were　none；　except　a　chicken…farmer's　widow；　who　lived　in　a　house
thatched　almost　to　the　ground；　and　made　her　livelihood　by　directing
tourists；　with　such　cunning　that　they　soon　came　back　to　her　for　tea。

It　was　while　throwing　a　rather　longer　line　than　usual　to　reach　a
little　dark　piece　of　crisp　water　that　Lord　Dennis　heard　the　swishing
and　crackling　of　someone　advancing　at　full　speed。　　He　frowned
slightly；　feeling　for　the　nerves　of　his　fishes；　whom　he　did　not　wish
startled。　　The　invader　was　Miltoun；　hot；　pale；　dishevelled；　with　a
queer；　hunted　look　on　his　face。　　He　stopped　on　seeing　his　great…
uncle；　and　instantly　assumed　the　mask　of　his　smile。

Lord　Dennis　was　not　the　man　to　see　what　was　not　intended　for　him；　and
he　merely　said：

〃Well；　Eustace！〃　as　he　might　have　spoken；　meeting　his　nephew　in　the
hall　of　one　of　his　London　Clubs。

Miltoun；　no　less　polite；　murmured：

〃Hope　I　haven't　lost　you　anything。〃

Lord　Dennis　shook　his　head；　and　laying　his　rod　on　the　bank；　said：

〃Sit　down　and　have　a　chat；　old　fellow。　　You　don't　fish；　I　think？〃

He　had　not；　in　the　least；　missed　the　suffering　behind　Miltoun's　mask；
his　eyes　were　still　good；　and　there　was　a　little　matter　of　some
twenty　years'　suffering　of　his　own　on　account　of　a　womanancient
history　nowwhich　had　left　him　quaintly　sensitive；　for　an　old　man；
to　signs　of　suffering　in　others。

Miltoun　would　not　have　obeyed　that　invitation　from　anyone　else；　but
there　was　something　about　Lord　Dennis　which　people　did　not　resist；
his　power　lay　in　a　dry　ironic　suavity　which　could　not　but　persuade
people　that　impoliteness　was　altogether　too　new　and　raw　a　thing　to　be
indulged　in。

The　two　sat　side　by　side　on　the　roots　of　trees。　　At　first　they　talked
a　little　of　birds；　and　then　were　dumb；　so　dumb　that　the　invisible
creatures　of　the　woods　consulted　together　audibly。　　Lord　Dennis　broke
that　silence。

〃This　place；〃　he　said；　〃always　reminds　me　of　Mark　Twain's　writings
can't　tell　why；　unless　it's　the　ever…greenness。　　I　like　the　evergreen
philosophers；　Twain　and　Meredith。　　There's　no　salvation　except
through　courage；　though　I　never　could　stomach　the　'strong　man'
captain　of　his　soul；　Henley　and　Nietzsche　and　that　sortgoes　against
the　grain　with　me。　　What　do　you　say；　Eustace？〃

〃They　meant　well；〃　answered　Miltoun；　〃but　they　protested　too　much。〃

Lord　Dennis　moved　his　head　in　assent。

〃To　be　captain　of　your　soul！〃　continued　Miltoun　in　a　bitter　voice；
〃it's　a　pretty　phrase！〃

〃Pretty　enough；〃　murmured　Lord　Dennis。

Miltoun　looked　at　him。

〃And　suitable　to　you；〃　he　said。

〃No；　my　dear；〃　Lord　Dennis　answered　dryly；　〃a　long　way　off　that；
thank　God！〃

His　eyes　were　fixed　intently　on　the　place　where　a　large　trout　had
risen　in　the　stillest　toffee…coloured　pool。