the patrician-第53节

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now　thirty　hours；　without　having　overcome　with　his　last　kisses　the
feeling　of　disaster　which　had　settled　on　her　when　he　told　her　of　his
resolve。　　Her　eyes　had　seen　deeper　than　his；　her　instinct　had
received　a　message　from　Fate。

To　be　the　dragger…down；　the　destroyer　of　his　usefulness；　to　be　not
the　helpmate；　but　the　clog；　not　the　inspiring　sky；　but　the　cloud！
And　because　of　a　scruple　which　she　could　not　understand！　　She　had　no
anger　with　that　unintelligible　scruple；　but　her　fatalism；　and　her
sympathy　had　followed　it　out　into　his　future。　　Things　being　so；　it
could　not　be　long　before　he　felt　that　her　love　was　maiming　him；　even
if　he　went　on　desiring　her；　it　would　be　only　with　his　body。　　And　if；
for　this　scruple；　he　were　capable　of　giving　up　his　public　life；　he
would　be　capable　of　living　on　with　her　after　his　love　was　dead！　　This
thought　she　could　not　bear。　　It　stung　to　the　very　marrow　of　her
nerves。　　And　yet　surely　Life　could　not　be　so　cruel　as　to　have　given
her　such　happiness　meaning　to　take　it　from　her！　　Surely　her　love　was
not　to　be　only　one　summer's　day；　his　love　but　an　embrace；　and　then
for　ever　nothing！

This　morning；　fortified　by　despair；　she　admitted　her　own　beauty。　　He
would；　he　must　want　her　more　than　that　other　life；　at　the　very
thought　of　which　her　face　darkened。　　That　other　life　so　hard；　and　far
from　her！　　So　loveless；　formal；　and　yetto　him　so　real；　so
desperately；　accursedly　real！　　If　he　must　indeed　give　up　his　career；
then　surely　the　life　they　could　live　together　would　make　up　to　him
a　life　among　simple　and　sweet　things；　all　over　the　world；　with　music
and　pictures；　and　the　flowers　and　all　Nature；　and　friends　who　sought
them　for　themselves；　and　in　being　kind　to　everyone；　and　helping　the
poor　and　the　unfortunate；　and　loving　each　other！　　But　he　did　not　want
that　sort　of　life！　　What　was　the　good　of　pretending　that　he　did？　　It
was　right　and　natural　he　should　want；　to　use　his　powers！　　To　lead　and
serve！　　She　would　not　have　him　otherwise：　With　these　thoughts
hovering　and　darting　within　her；　she　went　on　twisting　and　coiling　her
dark　hair；　and　burying　her　heart　beneath　its　lace　defences。　　She
noted　too；　with　her　usual　care；　two　fading　blossoms　in　the　bowl　of
flowers　on　her　dressing…table；　and；　removing　their；　emptied　out　the
water　and　refilled　the　bowl。

Before　she　left　her　bedroom　the　sunbeams　had　already　ceased　to　dance；
the　grey　filaments　of　light　were　gone。　　Autumn　sky　had　come　into　its
own。　　Passing　the　mirror　in　the　hall　which　was　always　rough　with　her；
she　had　not　courage　to　glance　at　it。　　Then　suddenly　a　woman's　belief
in　the　power　of　her　charm　came　to　her　aid；　she　felt　almost　happy
surely　he　must　love　her　better　than　his　conscience！　　But　that
confidence　was　very　tremulous；　ready　to　yield　to　the　first　rebuff。
Even　the　friendly　freshcheeked　maid　seemed　that　morning　to　be
regarding　her　with　compassion；　and　all　the　innate　sense；　not　of　'good
form；'　but　of　form；　which　made　her　shrink　from　anything　that　should
disturb　or　hurt　another；　or　make　anyone　think　she　was　to　be　pitied；
rose　up　at　once　within　her；　she　became　more　than　ever　careful　to　show
nothing　even　to　herself。　　So　she　passed　the　morning；　mechanically
doing　the　little　usual　things。　　An　overpowering　longing　was　with　her
all　the　time；　to　get　him　away　with　her　from　England；　and　see　whether
the　thousand　beauties　she　could　show　him　would　not　fire　him　with　love
of　the　things　she　loved。　　As　a　girl　she　had　spent　nearly　three　years
abroad。　　And　Eustace　had　never　been　to　Italy；　nor　to　her　beloved
mountain　valleys！　　Then；　the　remembrance　of　his　rooms　at　the　Temple
broke　in　on　that　vision；　and　shattered　it。　　No　Titian's　feast　of
gentian；　tawny　brown；　and　alpen…rose　could　intoxicate　the　lover　of
those　books；　those　papers；　that　great　map。　　And　the　scent　of　leather
came　to　her　now　as　poignantly　as　if　she　were　once　more　flitting　about
noiselessly　on　her　business　of　nursing。　　Then　there　rushed　through
her　again　the　warm　wonderful　sense　that　had　been　with　her　all　those
precious　daysof　love　that　knew　secretly　of　its　approaching　triumph
and　fulfilment；　the　delicious　sense　of　giving　every　minute　of　her
time；　every　thought；　and　movement；　and　all　the　sweet　unconscious
waiting　for　the　divine；　irrevocable　moment　when　at　last　she　would
give　herself　and　be　his。　　The　remembrance　too　of　how　tired；　how
sacredly　tired　she　had　been；　and　of　how　she　had　smiled　all　the　time
with　her　inner　joy　of　being　tired　for　him。

The　sound　of　the　bell　startled　her。　　His　telegram　had　said；　the
afternoon！　　She　determined　to　show　nothing　of　the　trouble　darkening
the　whole　world　for　her；　and　drew　a　deep　breath；　waiting　for　his
kiss。

It　was　not　Miltoun；　but　Lady　Casterley。

The　shock　sent　the　blood　buzzing　into　her　temples。　　Then　she　noticed
that　the　little　figure　before　her　was　also　trembling；　drawing　up　a
chair；　she　said：　〃Won't　you　sit　down？〃

The　tone　of　that　old　voice；　thanking　her；　brought　back　sharply　the
memory　of　her　garden；　at　Monkland；　bathed　in　the　sweetness　and
shimmer　of　summer；　and　of　Barbara　standing　at　her　gate　towering　above
this　little　figure；　which　now　sat　there　so　silent；　with　very　white
face。　　Those　carved　features；　those　keen；　yet　veiled　eyes；　had　too
often　haunted　her　thoughts；　they　were　like　a　bad　dream　come　true。

〃My　grandson　is　not　here；　is　he？〃

Audrey　shook　her　head。

〃We　have　heard　of　his　decision。　　I　will　not　beat　about　the　bush　with
you。　　It　is　a　disaster　for　me　a　calamity。　　I　have　known　and　loved　him
since　he　was　born；　and　I　have　been　foolish　enough　to　dream；　dreams
about　him。　　I　wondered　perhaps　whether　you　knew　how　much　we　counted
on　him。　　You　must　forgive　an　old　woman's　coming　here　like　this。　　At
my　age　there　are　few　things　that　matter；　but　they　matter　very　much。〃

And　Audrey　thought：　〃And　at　my　age　there　is　but　one　thing　that
matters；　and　that　matters　worse　than　death。〃　　But　she　did　not　speak。
To　whom；　to　what　should　she　speak？　　To　this　hard　old　woman；　who
personified　the　world？　　Of　what　use；　words？；；

〃I　can　say　to　you；〃　went　on　the　voice　of　the　little　figure；　that
seemed　so　to　fill　the　room　with　its　grey　presence；　〃what　I　could　not
bring　myself　to　say　to　others；　for　you　are　not　hard…hearted。〃

A　quiver　passed　up　from　the　heart　so　praised　to　the　still　lips。　　No；
she　was　not　hard…hearted！　　She　could　even　feel　for　this　old　woman
from　whose　voice　anxiety　had　stolen　its　despotism。

〃Eustace　cannot　live　without　his　career。　　His　career　is　himself；　he
must　be　doing；　and　leading；　and　spending　his　powers。　　What　he　has
given　you　is　not　his　true　self。　　I　don't　want　to　hurt　you；　but　the
truth　is　the　truth；　and　we　must　all　bow　before　it。　　I　may　be　hard；
but　I　can　respect　sorrow。〃

To　respect　sorrow！　　Yes；　this　grey　visitor　could　do　that；　as　the　wind
passing　over　the　sea　respects　its　surface；　as　the　air　respects　the
surface　of　a　rose；　but　to　penetrate　to　the　heart；　to　understand　her
sorrow；　that　old　age　could　not　do　for　youth！　　As　well　try　to　track
out　the　secret　of　the　twistings　in　the　flight　of　those　swallows　out
there　above　the　river；　or　to　follow　to　its　source　the　faint　scent　of
the　lilies　in　that　bowl！　　How　should　she　know　what　was　passing　in
herethis　little　old　woman　whose　blood　was　cold？　　And　Audrey　had　the
sensation　of　watching　someone　pelt　her　with　the　rind　and　husks　of
what　her　own　spirit　had　long　devoured。　　She　had　a　longing　to　get　up；
and　take　the　hand；　the　chill；　spidery　hand　of　age；　and　thrust　it　into
her　breast；　and　say：　〃Feel　that；　and　cease！〃

But；　withal；　she　never　lost　her　queer　dull　compassion　for　the　owner
of　that　white　carved　face。　　It　was　not　her　visitor's　fault　that　she
had　come！　　Again　Lady　Casterley　was　speaking。

〃It　is　early　days。　　If　you　do　not　end　it　now；　at　once；　it　will　only
come　harder　on　you　presently。　　You　know　how　determined　he　is。　　He
will　not　change　his　mind。　　If　you　cut　him　off　from　his　work　in　life；
it　will　but　recoil　on　you。　　I　can　only　expect　your　hatred；　for
talking　like　this；　but　believe　me；　it's　for　your　good；　as　well　as
his；　in　the　long　run。〃

A　tumultuous　heart…beating　of　ironical　rage　seized　on　the　listener　to
that　speech。　　Her　good！　　The　good　of　a　corse　that　the　breath　is　just
abandoning；　the　good　of　a　flower　beneath　a　heel；　the　good　of　an　old
dog　whose　master　leaves　it　for　the　last　time！　　Slowly　a　weight　like
lead　stopped　all　that　fluttering　of　her　heart。　　If　she　did　not　end　it
at　once！　　The　words　had　now　been　spoken　that　for　so　many　hours；　she
knew；　had　lain　unspoken　within　her　own　breast。　　Yes；　if　she　did　not；
she　could　never　know　a　moment's　peace；　feeling　that　she　was　forcing
him　to　a　death　in　life；　desecrating　her　own　love　and　pride！　　And　the
spur　had　been　given　by　another！　　The　thought　that　someonethis　hard
old　woman　of　the　hard　worldshould　have　shaped　in　words　the
hauntings　of　her　love　and　pride　through　all　those　ages　since　Miltoun
spoke　to　her　of　his　resolve；　that　someone　else　should　have　had　to
tell　her　what　her　heart　had　so　long　known　it　must　dothis　stabbed
her　like　a　knife！　　This；　at　all　events；　she　could　not　bear！

She　stood　up；　and　said：

〃Please　leave　me　now！　　I　have　a　great　many　things　to　do；　before　I
go。〃

With　a　sort　of　pleasure　she　saw　a　look　of　bewilderment　cover　that　ol