the choir invisible-第35节

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ill　either　be　infinitely　satisfied　or　infinitely　quieted。　But　no　man　can　write　a　description　of　this　place　for　those　who　have　never　trodden　it；　by　those　who　have；　no　description　is　desired：　their　fullest　speech　is　Silence。　　For　here　dwells　the　Love　of　which　there　has　never　been　any　confession；　from　which　there　is　no　escape；　for　which　there　is　no　hope：　the　love　of　a　man　for　a　woman　who　is　bound　to　another；　or　the　love　of　a　woman　for　a　man　who　is　bound　to　another。　Many　there　are　who　know　what　that　means；　and　this　is　the　reason　why　the　land　is　always　thronged。　But　in　the　throng　no　one　signals　another；　to　walk　there　is　to　be　counted　among　the　Unseen　and　the　Alone。

To　this　great　wistful　height　of　Silence　he　had　struggled　at　last　after　all　his　days　of　rising　and　falling；　of　climbing　and　slipping　back。　It　was　no　especial　triumph　for　his　own　strength。　His　better　strength　had　indeed　gone　into　it；　and　the　older　rightful　habitudes　of　mind　that　always　mean　so　much　to　us　when　we　are　tried　and　tempted；　and　the　old　beautiful　submission　of　himself　to　the　established　laws　of　the　world。　　But　more　than　what　these　had　effected　was　what　she　herself　had　been　to　him　and　had　done　for　him。　Even　his　discovery　of　her　at　the　window　that　last　night　had　had　the　effect　of　bidding　him　stand　off；　for　he　saw　there　the　loyalty　and　sacredness　of　wifehood　that；　however　full　of　suffering；　at　least　asked　for　itself　the　privilege　and　the　dignity　of　suffering　unnoticed。

Thus　he　had　come　to　realize　that　life　had　long　been　leading　him　blindfold；　until　one　recent　day；　snatching　the　bandage　from　his　eyes；　she　had　cried：　〃Here　is　the　parting　of　three　ways；　each　way　a　tragedy：　choose　your　way　and　your　tragedy！〃

If　he　confessed　his　love　and　found　that　she　felt　but　friendship　for　him；　there　was　the　first　tragedy。　The　wrong　in　him　would　lack　the　answering　wrong　in　her；　which　sometimes；　when　the　two　are　put　together；　so　nearly　makes　up　the　right。　From　her　own　point　of　view；　he　would　merely　be　offering　her　a　delicate　ineffaceable　insult。　If　she　had　been　the　sort　of　woman　by　whose　vanity　every　conquest　is　welcomed　as　a　tribute　and　pursued　as　an　aim；　he　could　never　have　cared　for　her　at　all。　Thus　while　his　love　took　its　very　origin　from　his　belief　of　her　nobility；　he　was　premeditating　the　means　of　having　her　prove　to　him　that　this　did　not　exist。

If　he　told　her　everything　and　surprised　her　love　for　him；　there　was　the　second　tragedy。　For　over　there；　beyond　the　scene　of　such　a　confession；　he　could　not　behold　her　as　anything　else　than　a　fatally　lowered　woman。　　The　agony　of　this；　even　as　a　possibil…ity；　overwhelmed　him　in　advance。　　To　require　of　her　that　she　should　have　a　nature　of　perfect　loyalty　and　at　the　same　time　to　ask　her　to　pronounce　her　own　falsenesswhat　happiness　could　that　bring　to　him？　If　she　could　be　faithless　to　one　man　because　she　loved　another；　could　she　not　be　false　to　the　second；　if　in　time　she　grew　to　love　a　third？　Out　of　the　depths　even　of　his　loss　of　her　the　terrible　cry　was　wrung　from　him　that　no　love　could　long　be　possible　between　him　and　any　woman　who　was　not　free　to　love　him。

And　so　at　last；　with　that　mingling　of　selfish　and　unselfish　motives；　which　is　like　the　mixed　blood　of　the　heart　itself；　he　had　chosen　the　third　tragedy：　the　silence　that　would　at　least　leave　each　of　them　blameless。　And　so　he　had　come　finally　to　that　high　cold　table…land　where　the　sun　of　Love　shines　rather　as　the　white　luminary　of　another　world　than　the　red　quickener　of　this。

Over　the　lofty　table…land　of　Kentucky　the　sky　bent　darkest　blue；　and　was　filled　with　wistful；　silvery　light　that　afternoon　as　he　walked　out　to　the　Falconers'。　His　face　had　never　looked　so　clear；　so　calm；　his　very　linen　never　so　spotless；　or　so　careful　about　his　neck　and　wrists；　and　his　eyes　held　again　their　old　beautiful　lightsaddened。

》From　away　off　he　could　descry　her；　walking　about　the　yard　in　the　pale　sunshine。　He　had　expected　to　find　her　preoccupied　as　usual；　but　to…day　she　was　strolling　restlessly　to　and　fro　in　front　of　the　house；　quite　near　it　and　quite　idle。　When　she　saw　him　coming；　scarce　aware　of　her　own　actions；　she　went　round　the　house　and　walked　on　quickly　away　from　him。

As　he　was　following　and　passing　the　cabin；　a　hand　was　quickly　put　out　and　the　shutter　drawn　partly　to。

〃How　do　you　do！〃

That　hard；　smooth；　gay　little　voice！

〃You　mustn't　come　here！　And　don't　you　peep！　When　are　you　going？〃

He　told　her。

〃To…morrow！　Why；　have　you　forgotten　that　I'm　married　to…morrow！　Aren't　you　coming？　Upon　my　word！　I've　given　you　to　the　widow　Babcock；　and　you　are　to　ride　in　the　procession　with　her。　She　has　promised　me　not　to　laugh　once　on　the　way　or　even　to　allude　to　anything　cheerful！　Be　persuaded！　。　。　。　Well；　I'm　sorry。　I'll　have　to　give　your　place　to　Peter；　I　suppose。　　And　I'll　tell　the　widow　she　can　be　natural　and　gay：　Peter'll　not　mind！　　Good…bye！　I　can't　shake　hands　with　you。〃

Behind　the　house；　at　the　foot　of　the　sloping　hill；　there　was　a　spring　such　as　every　pioneer　sought　to　have　near　his　home；　and　a　little　lower　down；　in　one　corner　of　the　yard；　the　water　from　this　had　broadened　out　into　a　small　pond。　Dark…green　sedgy　cane　grew　thick　around　half　the　margin。

One　March　day　some　seasons　before；　Major　Falconer　had　brought　down　with　his　rifle　from　out　the　turquoise　sky　a　young　lone…wandering　swan。　In　those　early　days　the　rivers　and　ponds　of　the　wilderness　served　as　resting　places　and　feeding…grounds　for　these　unnumbered　birds　in　their　long　flights　between　the　Southern　waters　and　the　Northern　lakes。　A　wing　of　this　one　had　been　broken；　and　out　of　her　wide　heaven　of　freedom　and　light　she　had　floated　down　his　captive　but　with　all　her　far…sweeping　instincts　throbbing　on　unabated。　This　pool　had　been　the　only　thing　to　remind　her　since　of　the　blue…breasted　waves　and　the　glad　fellowship　of　her　kind。　On　this　she　had　passed　her　existence；　with　a　cry　in　the　night　now　and　then　that　no　one　heard；　a　lifting　of　the　wings　that　would　never　rise；　an　eye　turned　upward　toward　the　turquoise　sky　across　which　familiar　voices　called　to　each　other；　called　down；　and　were　lost　in　the　distance。

As　he　followed　down　the　hill；　she　was　standing　on　the　edge　of　the　pond；　watching　the　swan　feeding　in　the　edge　of　the　cane。　He　took　her　hand　without　a　word；　and　looked　with　clear　unfaltering　eyes　down　into　her　face；　now　swanlike　in　whiteness。

She　withdrew　her　hand　and　gave　him　the　gloves　which　she　was　holding　in　the　other。

〃I'm　glad　you　thought　enough　of　them　to　come　for　them。〃

〃I　couldn't　come！　Don't　blame　me！〃

〃I　understand！　Only　I　might　have　helped　you　in　your　trouble。　If　a　friend　can't　do　thatmay　not　do　that！　But　it　is　too　late　now！　You　start　for　Virginia　tomorrow？〃

〃To…morrow。〃

〃And　to…morrow　Amy　marries；　I　lose　you　both　the　same　day！　You　are　going　straight　to　Mount　Vernon？〃

〃Straight　to　Mount　Vernon。〃

〃Ah；　to　think　that　you　will　see　Virginia　so　soon！　I've　been　recalling　a　great　deal　about　Virginia　during　these　days　when　you　would　not　come　to　see　me。　Now　I've　forgotten　everything　I　meant　to　say！〃

They　climbed　the　hill　slowly。　Two　or　three　times　she　stopped　and　pressed　her　hand　over　her　heart。　She　tried　to　hide　the　sound　of　her　quivering　breath　and　glanced　up　once　to　see　whether　he　were　observing。　He　was　not。　With　his　old　habit　of　sending　his　thoughts　on　into　the　future；　fighting　its　distant　battles；　feeling　its　far…off　pain；　he　was　less　conscious　of　their　parting　than　of　the　years　during　which　he　might　not　see　her　again。　It　is　the　woman　who　bursts　the　whole　grape　of　sorrow　against　the　irrepressible　palate　at　such　a　moment；　to　a　man　like　him　the　same　grape　distils　a　vintage　of　yearning　that　will　brim　the　cup　of　memory　many　a　time　beside　his　lamp　in　the　final　years。

He　would　have　passed　the　house；　supposing　they　were　to　go　to　the　familiar　seat　in　the　garden；　but　a　bench　had　been　placed　under　a　forest　tree　near　the　door　and　she　led　the　way　to　this。　The　significance　of　the　action　was　lost　on　him。

〃Yes；〃　she　continued；　returning　to　a　subject　which　furnished　both　an　escape　and　a　concealment　of　her　feelings；　〃I　have　been　revisiting　my　girlhood。　　You　love　Kentucky　but　I　cannot　make　myself　over。〃

Her　face　grew　full　of　the　finest　memories　and　all　the　fibres　of　her　nature　were　becoming　more　unstrung。　He　had　made　sure　of　his　strength　before　he　had　ever　dared　see　her　this　day；　had　pitted　his　self…control　against　every　possible　temptation　to　betray　himself　that　could　arise　throughout　their　parting；　and　it　was　this　very　composure；　so　unlocked　for；　that　unconsciously　drove　her　to　the　opposite　extreme。　Shades　of　colour　swept　over　her　neck　and　brow；　as　though　she　were　setting　under　wind…tossed　blossoming　peach　boughs。　Her　lustrous；　excited　eyes　seemed　never　able　to　withdraw　themselves　from　his　whitened　solemn　face。　　Its　mute　repressed　suffering　touched　her；　its　calmness　filled　her　with　vague　pain　that　at　such　a　time　he　could　be　so　calm。　And　the　current　of　her　words　ran　swift；　as　a　stream　loosened　at　last　from　some　steep　height。〃Sometime　you　might　be　in　that　part　of　Virginia。　I　should　like　you　to　know　the　country　there　and　the　place　where　my　father's　house　stood。　And　when　you　see　the　Resident；　I　wish　you　would　recall　my　father　to　him。　And　you　remember　that　one　of　my　brothers　was　a　favourite　young　office