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第51节

the lost road-第51节

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So; for two months before the transport was to sail; they ordered
him to Cape Cod to fill his lungs with the bracing air of a New
England autumn。

He selected Agawamsett; because; when at Harvard; it was there he
had spent his summer vacations; and he knew he would find
sailboats and tennis and; through the pine woods back of the
little whaling village; many miles of untravelled roads。  He
promised himself that over these he would gallop an imaginary
troop in route marches; would manoeuvre it against possible
ambush; and; in combat patrols; ground scouts; and cossack
outposts; charge with it 〃as foragers。〃  But he did none of these
things。  For at Agawamsett he met Frances Gardner; and his
experience with her was so disastrous that; in his determination
to avoid all women; he was convinced he was right。

When later he reached Manila he vowed no other woman would
ever again find a place in his thoughts。  No other woman did。
Not because he had the strength to keep his vow; but because he
so continually thought of Frances Gardner that no other woman
had a chance。

Miss Gardner was a remarkable girl。  Her charm appealed to all
kinds of men; and; unfortunately for Lee; several kinds of men
appealed to her。  Her fortune and her relations were bound up in
the person of a rich aunt with whom she lived; and who; it was
understood; some day would leave her all the money in the world。
But; in spite of her charm; certainly in spite of the rich aunt;
Lee; true to his determination; might not have noticed the girl
had not she ridden so extremely well。

It was to the captain of cavalry she first appealed。  But even a
cavalry captain; whose duty in life is to instruct sixty men in
the art of taking the life of as many other men as possible; may
turn his head in the direction of a good…looking girl。  And when
for weeks a man rides at the side of one through pine forests as
dim and mysterious as the aisles of a great cathedral; when he
guides her across the wet marshes when the sun is setting crimson
in the pools and the wind blows salt from the sea; when he loses
them both by moonlight in wood…roads where the hoofs of the
horses sink silently into dusty pine needles; he thinks more
frequently of the girl at his side than of the faithful troopers
waiting for him in San Francisco。  The girl at his side thought
frequently of him。

With the 〃surface indications〃 of a young man about to ask her
to marry him she was painfully familiar; but this time the possibility
was the reverse of painful。  What she meant to do about it she did
not know; but she did know that she was strangely happy。  Between
living on as the dependent of a somewhat exacting relative and
becoming the full partner of this young stranger; who with men
had proved himself so masterful; and who with her was so gentle;
there seemed but little choice。  But she did not as yet wish to make
the choice。  She preferred to believe she was not certain。  She assured
him that before his leave of absence was over she would tell him
whether she would remain on duty with the querulous aunt; who had
befriended her; or as his wife accompany him to the Philippines。

It was not the answer he wanted; but in her happiness; which was
evident to every one; he could not help but take hope。  And in the
questions she put to him of life in the tropics; of the life of
the 〃officers' ladies;〃 he saw that what was in her mind was a
possible life with him; and he was content。

She became to him a wonderful; glorious person; and each day she
grew in loveliness。  It had been five years of soldiering in Cuba;
China; and on the Mexican border since he had talked to a woman
with interest; and now in all she said; in all her thoughts and
words and delights; he found fresher and stronger reasons for
discarding his determination to remain wedded only to the United
States Army。  He did not need reasons。  He was far too much in love
to see in any word or act of hers anything that was not fine and
beautiful。

In their rides they had one day stumbled upon a long…lost and
long…forgotten road through the woods; which she had claimed as
their own by right of discovery; and; no matter to what point
they set forth each day; they always returned by it。  Their way
through the woods stretched for miles。  It was concealed in a
forest of stunted oaks and black pines; with no sign of human
habitation; save here and there a clearing now long neglected and
alive only with goldenrod。  Trunks of trees; moss…grown and
crumbling beneath the touch of the ponies' hoofs; lay in their
path; and above it the branches of a younger generation had
clasped hands。  At their approach squirrels raced for shelter;
woodcock and partridge shot deeper into the network of vines and
saplings; and the click of the steel as the ponies tossed their
bits; and their own whispers; alone disturbed the silence。

〃It is an enchanted road;〃 said the girl; 〃or maybe we are
enchanted。〃

〃Not I;〃 cried the young man loyally。  〃I was never so sane; never
so sure; never so happy in knowing just what I wanted! If only
you could be as sure!〃

One day she came to him in high excitement with a book of verse。
〃He has written a poem;〃 she cried; 〃about our own woods; about
our lost road! Listen〃 she commanded; and she read to him:

〃'They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago。
Weather and rain have undone it again;
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees。
It is underneath the coppice and heath;
And the thin anemones。
Only the keeper sees
That; where the ringdove broods;
And the badgers roll at ease;
There was once a road through the woods。

〃'Yet; if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late;
When the night air cools on the trout…ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate
(They fear not men in the woods
Because they see so few);
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet;
And the swish of a skirt in the dew;
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes;
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods。 。 。 。
But there is no road through the woods。'〃


〃I don't like that at all;〃 cried the soldierman。  〃It's tootoo
sadit doesn't give you any encouragement。  The way it ends; I
mean: 'But there is no road through the woods。'  Of course there's
a road! For us there always will be。  I'm going to make sure。  I'm
going to buy those woods; and keep the lost road where we can
always find it。〃

〃I don't think;〃 said the girl; 〃that he means a real road。〃

〃I know what he means;〃 cried the lover; 〃and he's wrong! There
is a road; and you and I have found it; and we are going to
follow it for always。〃

The girl shook her head; but her eyes were smiling happily。

The 〃season〃 at Agawamsett closed with the tennis tournament; and
it was generally conceded fit and proper; from every point of
view; that in mixed doubles Lee and Miss Gardner should be
partners。  Young Stedman; the Boston artist; was the only one who
made objection。  Up in the sail…loft that he had turned into a
studio he was painting a portrait of the lovely Miss Gardner; and
he protested that the three days' tournament would sadly
interrupt his work。  And Frances; who was very much interested in
the portrait; was inclined to agree。

But Lee beat down her objections。  He was not at all interested in
the portrait。  He disapproved of it entirely。  For the sittings
robbed him of Frances during the better part of each morning; and
he urged that when he must so soon leave her; between the man who
wanted her portrait and the man who wanted her; it would be kind
to give her time to the latter。

〃But I had no idea;〃 protested Frances; 〃he would take so long。
He told me he'd finish it in three sittings。  But he's so critical
of his own work that he goes over it again and again。  He says
that I am a most difficult subject; but that I inspire him。  And
he says; if I will only give him time; he believes this will be
the best thing he has done。〃

〃That's an awful thought;〃 said the cavalry officer。

〃You don't like him;〃 reproved Miss Gardner。  〃He is always very
polite to you。〃

〃He's polite to everybody;〃 said Lee; 〃that's why I don't like
him。  He's not a real artist。  He's a courtier。  God gave him a
talent; and he makes a mean use of it。  Uses it to flatter people。
He's like these long…haired violinists who play anything you ask
them to in the lobster palaces。〃

Miss Gardner looked away from him。  Her color was high and her
eyes very bright。

〃I think;〃 she said steadily; 〃that Mr。 Stedman is a great
artist; and some day all the world will think so; too!〃

Lee made no answer。  Not because he disagreed with her estimate of
Mr。 Stedman's genius…he made no pretense of being an art
criticbut because her vehement admiration had filled him with
sudden panic。  He was not jealous。  For that he was far too humble。
Indeed; he thought himself so utterly unworthy of Frances Gardner
that the fact that to him she might prefer some one else was in
no way a surprise。  He only knew that if she should prefer some
one else not all his troop horses nor all his men could put
Humpty Dumpty b

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