malbone- an oldport romance[1].(马尔布恩)-第36节
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and gently； begging to be left alone。 When at last the vessel parted her
moorings； he persuaded Emilia to come on deck and be lashed to the mast；
where she sat without complaint。
Who can fathom the thoughts of that bewildered child； as she sat amid
the spray and the howling of the blast； while the doomed vessel drifted on
with her to the shore？ Did all the error and sorrow of her life pass
distinctly before her？ Or did the roar of the surf lull her into quiet； like the
unconscious kindness of wild creatures that toss and bewilder their prey
into unconsciousness ere they harm it？ None can tell。 Death answers no
questions； it only makes them needless。
The morning brought to the scene John Lambert； just arrived by land
from New York。
The passion of John Lambert for his wife was of that kind which
ennobles while it lasts； but which rarely outlasts marriage。 A man of such
uncongenial mould will love an enchanting woman with a mad； absorbing
passion； where self…sacrifice is so mingled with selfishness that the two
emotions seem one； he will hungrily yearn to possess her； to call her by his
own name； to hold her in his arms； to kill any one else who claims her。 But
when she is once his wife； and his arms hold a body without a soul；no
soul at least for him；then her image is almost inevitably profaned； and
the passion which began too high for earth ends far too low for heaven。
Let now death change that form to marble； and instantly it resumes its
virgin holiness； though the presence of life did not sanctify； its departure
does。 It is only the true lover to whom the breathing form is as sacred as
the breathless。
That ideality of nature which love had developed in this man； and
which had already drooped a little during his brief period of marriage； was
born again by the side of death。 While Philip wandered off silent and
lonely with his grief； John Lambert knelt by the beautiful remains； talking
inarticulately； his eyes streaming with unchecked tears。 Again was
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MALBONE： AN OLDPORT ROMANCE。
Emilia； in her marble paleness； the calm centre of a tragedy she herself
had caused。 The wild； ungoverned child was the image of peace； it was
the stolid and prosperous man who was in the storm。 It was not till Hope
came that there was any change。 Then his prostrate nature sought hers； as
the needle leaps to the iron； the first touch of her hand； the sight of her kiss
upon Emilia's forehead； made him strong。 It was the thorough subjection
of a worldly man to the higher organization of a noble woman； and
thenceforth it never varied。 In later years； after he had foolishly sought； as
men will； to win her to a nearer tie； there was no moment when she had
not full control over his time； his energies； and his wealth。
After it was all ended； Hope told him everything that had happened；
but in that wild moment of his despair she told him nothing。 Only she and
Harry knew the story of the young Swiss； and now that Emilia was gone；
her early lover had no wish to speak of her to any but these two； or to
linger long where she had been doubly lost to him； by marriage and by
death。 The world； with all its prying curiosity； usually misses the key to
the very incidents about which it asks most questions； and of the many
who gossiped or mourned concerning Emilia； none knew the tragic
complication which her death alone could have solved。 The breaking of
Hope's engagement to Philip was attributed to every cause but the true one。
And when the storm of the great Rebellion broke over the land； its vast
calamity absorbed all minor griefs。
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MALBONE： AN OLDPORT ROMANCE。
CHAPTER XXIII。
REQUIESCAT。
THANK God！ it is not within the power of one man's errors to blight
the promise of a life like that of Hope。 It is but a feeble destiny that is
wrecked by passion； when it should be ennobled。 Aunt Jane and Kate
watched Hope closely during her years of probation； for although she
fancied herself to be keeping her own counsel； yet her career lay in broad
light for them。 She was like yonder sailboat； which floats conspicuous by
night amid the path of moonbeams； and which yet seems to its own
voyagers to be remote and unseen upon a waste of waves。
Why should I linger over the details of her life； after the width of
ocean lay between her and Malbone； and a manhood of self…denying
usefulness had begun to show that even he could learn something by life's
retributions？ We know what she was； and it is of secondary importance
where she went or what she did。 Kindle the light of the light…house； and
it has nothing to do； except to shine。 There is for it no wrong direction。
There is no need to ask； 〃How？ Over which especial track of distant
water must my light go forth； to find the wandering vessel to be guided
in？〃 It simply shines。 Somewhere there is a ship that needs it； or if not；
the light does its duty。 So did Hope。
We must leave her here。 Yet I cannot bear to think of her as passing
through earthly life without tasting its deepest bliss； without the last pure
ecstasy of human love； without the kisses of her own children on her lips；
their waxen fingers on her bosom。
And yet again； is this life so long？ May it not be better to wait until
its little day is done； and the summer night of old age has yielded to a new
morning； before attaining that acme of joy？ Are there enough successive
grades of bliss for all eternity； if so much be consummated here？ Must
all novels end with an earthly marriage； and nothing be left for heaven？
Perhaps； for such as Hope； this life is given to show what happiness
might be； and they await some other sphere for its fulfilment。 The greater
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MALBONE： AN OLDPORT ROMANCE。
part of the human race live out their mortal years without attaining more
than a far…off glimpse of the very highest joy。 Were this life all； its very
happiness were sadness。 If； as I doubt not； there be another sphere； then
that which is unfulfilled in this must yet find completion； nothing omitted；
nothing denied。 And though a thousand oracles should pronounce this
thought an idle dream； neither Hope nor I would believe them。
It was a radiant morning of last February when I walked across the low
hills to the scene of the wreck。 Leaving the road before reaching the Fort；
I struck across the wild moss…country； full of boulders and footpaths and
stunted cedars and sullen ponds。 I crossed the height of land； where the
ruined lookout stands like the remains of a Druidical temple； and then
went down toward the ocean。 Banks and ridges of snow lay here and there
among the fields； and the white lines of distant capes seemed but drifts
running seaward。 The ocean was gloriously alive；the blackest blue； with
white caps on every wave； the shore was all snowy； and the gulls were
flying back and forth in crowds； you could not tell whether they were the
white waves coming ashore； or bits of snow going to sea。 A single
fragment of ship…timber； black with time and weeds； and crusty with
barnacles； heaved to and fro in the edge of the surf； and two fishermen's
children； a boy and girl； tilted upon it as it moved； clung with the
semblance of terror to each other； and played at shipwreck。
The rocks were dark with moisture； steaming in the sun。 Great sheets
of ice； white masks of departing winter； clung to every projecting cliff； or
slid with crash and shiver into the surge。 Icicles dropped their slow and
reverberating tears upon the rock where Emilia once lay breathless； and it
seemed as if their cold； chaste drops were sent to cleanse from her
memory each scarlet stain；
