a mountain woman(山妇)-第8节
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A Mountain Woman
work； just as much as if I had been knocked down on the road and the
money taken from me； is enough to send me to the asylum with a strait…
jacket on！〃
Life grew to take on tragic aspects。 Annie used to find herself
wondering if anywhere in the world there were people with light hearts。
For her there was no longer antici… pation of joy； or present companionship；
or any divertissement in the whole world。 Jim read books which she did
not understand； and with a few of his friends； who dropped in now and
then evenings or Sundays； talked about these books in an excited manner。
She would go to her room to rest； and lying there in the darkness on
the bed； would hear them speaking together； some… times all at once； in
those sternly vindictive tones men use when there is revolt in their souls。
〃It is the government which is helping to impoverish us；〃 she would
hear Jim saying。 〃Work is money。 That is to say； it is the active form of
money。 The wealth of a country is estimated by its power of production。
And its power of production means work。 It means there are so many men
with so much capacity。 Now the government owes it to these men to have
money enough to pay them for their work； and if there is not enough
money in circulation to pay to each man for his honest and necessary work；
then I say that government is in league with crime。 It is trying to make
defaulters of us。 It has a hundred ways of cheating us。 When I bought this
farm and put the mortgage on it； a day's work would bring twice the
results it will now。 That is to say； the total at the end of the year showed
my profits to be twice what they would be now； even if the railway did not
stand in the way to rob us of more than we earn。 So that it will take just
twice as many days' work now to pay off this mortgage as it would have
done at the time it was contracted。 It's a conspiracy； I tell you！ Those
Eastern capitalists make a science of ruining us。〃
He got more eloquent as time went on； and Annie； who had known
him first as rather a careless talker； was astonished at the boldness of his
language。 But conver… sation was a lost art with him。 He no longer talked。
He harangued。
In the early spring Annie's baby was born； a little girl with a nervous
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A Mountain Woman
cry； who never slept long at a time； and who seemed to wail merely from
distaste at living。 It was Mrs。 Dundy who came over to look after the
house till Annie got able to do so。 Her eyes had that fever in them； as ever。
She talked but little； but her touch on Annie's head was more eloquent than
words。 One day Annie asked for the glass； and Mrs。 Dundy gave it to her。
She looked in it a long time。 The color was gone from her cheeks； and
about her mouth there was an ugly tightening。 But her eyes flashed and
shone with that same no； no； it could not be that in her face also was
coming the look of half…madness！ She motioned Mrs。 Dundy to come to
her。
〃You knew it was coming；〃 she said； brokenly； pointing to the
reflection in the glass。 〃That first day； you knew how it would be。〃
Mrs。 Dundy took the glass away with a gentle hand。
〃How could I help knowing？〃 she said simply。 She went into the next
room； and when she returned Annie noticed that the handkerchief stuck in
her belt was wet； as if it had been wept on。
A woman cannot stay long away from her home on a farm at planting
time； even if it is a case of life and death。 Mrs。 Dundy had to go home； and
Annie crept about her work with the wailing baby in her arms。 The house
was often disorderly now； but it could not be helped。 The baby had to be
cared for。 It fretted so much that Jim slept apart in the mow of the barn；
that his sleep might not be disturbed。 It was a pleasant； dim place； full of
sweet scents； and he liked to be there alone。 Though he had always been
an unusual worker； he worked now more like a man who was fighting off
fate； than a mere toiler for bread。
The corn came up beautifully； and far as the eye could reach around
their home it tossed its broad green leaves with an ocean… like swelling of
sibilant sound。 Jim loved it with a sort of passion。 Annie loved it； too。
Sometimes； at night； when her fatigue was unbearable； and her irritation
wearing out both body and soul； she took her little one in her arms and
walked among the corn； letting its rustling soothe the baby to sleep。
The heat of the summer was terrible。 The sun came up in that blue sky
like a curse； and hung there till night came to comfort the blistering earth。
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A Mountain Woman
And one morning a terrible thing happened。 Annie was standing out of
doors in the shade of those miserable little oaks； ironing； when suddenly a
blast of air struck her in the face； which made her look up startled。 For a
moment she thought； perhaps； there was a fire near in the grass。 But there
was none。 Another blast came； hotter this time； and fifteen minutes later
that wind was sweep… ing straight across the plain； burning and blasting。
Annie went in the house to finish her ironing； and was working there；
when she heard Jim's footstep on the door…sill。 He could not pale because
of the tan； but there was a look of agony and of anger almost brutish
anger in his eyes。 Then he looked； for a moment； at Annie standing there
working patiently； and rocking the little crib with one foot； and he sat
down on the door…step and buried his face in his brown arms。
The wind blew for three days。 At the end of that time every ear was
withered in the stalk。 The corn crop was ruined。
But there were the other crops which must be attended to； and Jim
watched those with the alertness of a despairing man； and so harvest came
again； and again the house was filled with men who talked their careless
talk； and who were not ashamed to gorge while this one woman cooked
for them。 The baby lay on a quilt on the floor in the coolest part of the
kitchen。 Annie fed it irregularly。 Sometimes she almost forgot it。 As for its
wailing； she had grown so used to it that she hardly heard it； any more
than she did the ticking of the clock。 And yet； tighter than anything else in
life； was the hold that little thing had on her heart…strings。 At night； after
the intermin… able work had been finished though in slovenly fashion
she would take it up and caress it with fierceness； and worn as she was；
would bathe it and soothe it； and give it warm milk from the big tin pail。
〃Lay the child down；〃 Jim would say impatiently； while the men
would tell how their wives always put the babies on the bed and let them
cry if they wanted to。 Annie said nothing； but she hushed the little one
with tender songs。
One day； as usual； it lay on its quilt while Annie worked。 It was a
terribly busy morning。 She had risen at four to get the washing out of the
way before the men got on hand； and there were a dozen loaves of bread to
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A Mountain Woman
bake； and the meals to get； and the milk to attend to； and the chickens and
pigs to feed。 So occupied was she that she never was able to tell how long
she was gone from the baby。 She only knew that the heat of her own body
was so great that the blood seemed to be pounding at her ears； and she
staggered as she crossed the yard。 But when she went at last with a cup of
milk to feed the little one； it lay with clenched fists and fixed eyes； and as
she lifted it； a last convulsion laid it back breath… less； and its heart had
ceased to beat。
Annie ran with it to her room； and tried such remedies as she had。 But
nothing could keep the chill from creeping over the wasted little form；
not even the heat of the day； not even the mother's agonized embrace。
Then； suddenly； Annie looked at the clock。 It was time to get the dinner。
She laid the piteous tiny shape straight on the bed； threw a sheet over it
