a mountain europa-第11节
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xury！ There stood his father； there his mother。 What gracious dignity they had！ Here was his sister…what beauty and elegance and grace of manner！ But Easter！ Wherever she was placed the other figures needed readjustment。 There was something irritably incongruous…Ah！ now he had it…his mind grew hazy…he was asleep。
X
DURING the weeks that followed； some malignant spirit seemed to be torturing him with a slow realization of all he had lost； taunting him with the possibility of regaining it and the certainty of losing it forever。
As he stepped from the dock at Jersey City the fresh sea wind had thrilled him like a memory； and his pulses leaped instantly into sympathy with the tense life that vibrated in the air。 He seemed never to have been away so long； and never had home seemed so pleasant。 His sister had grown more beautiful； his mother's quiet； noble face was smoother and fairer than it had been for years； and despite the absence of his father； who had been hastily summoned to England； there was an air of cheerfulness in the house that was in marked contrast to its gloom when Clayton was last at home。 He had been quickened at once into a new appreciation of the luxury and refinement about him； and he soon began to wonder how he had inured himself to the discomforts and crudities of his mountain life。 Old habits easily resumed sway over him。 At the club friend and acquaintance were so unfeignedly glad to see him that he began to suspect that his own inner gloom had darkened their faces after his father's misfortune。 Day after day found him in his favorite corner at the club； watching the passing pageant and listening eagerly to the conversational froth of the town…the gossip of club； theatre； and society。 His ascetic life in the mountains gave to every pleasure the taste of inexperience。 His early youth seemed renewed； so keen and fresh were his emotions。 He felt； too； that he was recovering a lost identity； and still the new one that had grown around him would not loosen its hold。 He had told his family nothing of Easter…why； he could scarcely have said…and the difficulty of telling increased each day。 His secret began to weigh heavily upon him； and though he determined to unburden himself on his father's return； he was troubled with a vague sense of deception。 When he went to receptions with his sister； this sense of a double identity was keenly felt amid the lights； the music； the flowers； the flash of eyes and white necks and arms； the low voices； the polite； clear…cut utterances of welcome and compliment。
Several times he had met a face for which he had once had a boyish infatuation。 Its image had never been supplanted during his student career； but he had turned from it as from a star when he came home and found that his life was to be built with his own hands。 Now the girl had grown to gracious womanhood； and when he saw her he was thrilled with the remembrance that she had once favored him above all others。 One night a desire assailed him to learn upon what footing he then stood。 He had yielded； and she gave him a kindly welcome。 They had drifted to reminiscence； and Clayton went home that night troubled at heart and angry that he should be so easily disturbed； surprised that the days were passing so swiftly； and pained that they were filled less and less with thoughts of Easter。 With a pang of remorse and fear； he determined to go back to the mountains as soon as his father came home。 He knew the effect of habit。 He would forget these pleasures felt so keenly now； as he had once forgotten them； and he would leave before their hold upon him was secure。
Knowing the danger that beset him； Puritan that he was； he had avoided it all he could。 He even stopped his daily visits to the club； and spent most of his time at home with his mother and sister。 Once only； to his bitter regret； was he induced to go out。 Wagner's tidal wave had reached New York； it was the opening night of the season； and the opera was one that he had learned to love in Germany。 The very brilliancy of the scene threw him into gloom； so aloof did he feel from it all…the great theatre aflame with lights； the circling tiers of faces； the pit with its hundred musicians； their eyes on the leader； who stood above them with baton upraised and German face already aglow。
In his student days he had loved music； but he had little more than trifled with it； now； strangely enough； his love； even his understanding； seemed to have grown； and when the violins thrilled all the vast space into life； he was shaken with a passion newly born。 All the evening he sat riveted。 A rush of memories came upon him…memories of his student life； with its dreams and ideals of culture and scholarship； which rose from his past again like phantoms。 In the elevation of the moment the trivial pleasures that had been tempting him became mean and unworthy。 With a pang of bitter regret he saw himself as he might have been； as he yet might be。
A few days later his father came home； and his distress of mind was complete。 Clayton need stay in the mountains but little longer； he said； he was fast making up his losses； and he had hoped after his trip to England to have Clayton at once in New York； but now he had best wait perhaps another year。 Then had come a struggle that racked heart and brain。 All he had ever had was before him again。 Could it be his duty to shut himself from this life…his natural heritage…to stifle the highest demands of his nature？ Was he seriously in love with that mountain girl？ Had he indeed ever been sure of himself？ If； then； he did not love her beyond all question； would he not wrong himself； wrong her； by marrying her？ Ah； but might he not wrong her； wrong himself …even more？ He was bound to her by every tie that his sensitive honor recognized among the duties of one human being to another。 He had sought her； he had lifted her above her own life。 If one human being had ever put its happiness in the hands of another； that had been done。 If he had not deliberately taught her to love him； he had not tried to prevent it。 He could not excuse himself； the thought of gaining her affection had occurred to him； and he had put it aside。 There was no excuse； for when she gave her love； he had accepted it； and； as far as she knew； had given his own unreservedly。 Ah； that fatal moment of weakness； that night on the mountam…side！ Could he tell her； could he tell Raines； the truth； and ask to be released？ What could Easter with her devotion； and Raines with his singleness of heart； know of this substitute for love which civilization had taught him？ Or； granting that they could understand； he might return home； but Easter…what was left for her？
It was useless to try to persuade himself that her love would fade away； perhaps quickly； and leave no scar； that Raines would in time win her for himself； his first idea of their union be realized； and； in the end； all happen for the best。 That might easily be possible with a different nature under different conditions…a nature less passionate； in contact with the world and responsive to varied interests； but not with Easter …alone with a love that had shamed him； with mountain； earth； and sky unchanged； and the vacant days marked only by a dreary round of wearisome tasks。 He remembered Raines s last words…〃 Air ye goin' to leave the po' gal to die sorrowin' fer ye ？ 〃 What happiness would be possible for him with that lonely mountain…top and the white； drawn face forever haunting him？
That very night a letter came； with a rude superscription…the first from Easter。 Within it was a poor tintype； from which Easter's eyes looked shyly at him。 Before he left he had tried in vain to get her to the tent of an itinerant photographer。 During his absence； she had evidently gone of her own accord。 The face was very beautiful； and in it was an expression of questioning； modest pride。 〃Aren't you surprised？ 〃it seemed to say…〃 and pleased？ Only the face； with its delicate lines； and the throat and the shoulders were visible。 She looked almost refined。 And the note…it was badly spelled and written with great difficulty； but it touched him。 She was lonely； she said； and she wanted him to come back。 Lonely… that cry was in each line。
His response to this was an instant resolution to go back at once； and； sensitive and pliant as his nature was； there was no hesitation for him when his duty was clear and a decision once made。 With great care and perfect frankness he had traced the history of his infatuation in a letter to his father； to be communicated when the latter chose to his mother and sister。 Now he was nearing the mountains again。
XI
THE journey to the mountains was made with a heavy heart。 In his absence everything seemed to have suffered a change。 Jellico had never seemed so small； so coarse； so wretched as when he stepped from the dusty train and saw it lying dwarfed and shapeless in the afternoon sunlight。 The State line bisects the straggling streets of frame…houses。 On the Kentucky side an extraordinary spasm of morality had quieted into local option。 Just across the way in Tennessee was a row of saloons。 It was 〃pay…day〃 for the m
