the doom of the griffiths-第6节
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The sweetbrier bush may even yet be seen; old and gray; which she and
Owen planted a green slipling beneath the window of her little
chamber。 In those moments Owen forgot all besides the present; all
the cares and griefs he had known in the past; and all that might
await him of woe and death in the future。 The boy; too; was as
lovely a child as the fondest parent was ever blessed with; and
crowed with delight; and clapped his little hands; as his mother held
him in her arms at the cottage…door to watch his father's ascent up
the rough path that led to Ty Glas; one bright autumnal morning; and
when the three entered the house together; it was difficult to say
which was the happiest。 Owen carried his boy; and tossed and played
with him; while Nest sought out some little article of work; and
seated herself on the dresser beneath the window; where now busily
plying the needle; and then again looking at her husband; she eagerly
told him the little pieces of domestic intelligence; the winning ways
of the child; the result of yesterday's fishing; and such of the
gossip of Penmorfa as came to the ears of the now retired Nest。 She
noticed that; when she mentioned any little circumstance which bore
the slightest reference to Bodowen; her husband appeared chafed and
uneasy; and at last avoided anything that might in the least remind
him of home。 In truth; he had been suffering much of late from the
irritability of his father; shown in trifles to be sure; but not the
less galling on that account。
While they were thus talking; and caressing each other and the child;
a shadow darkened the room; and before they could catch a glimpse of
the object that had occasioned it; it vanished; and Squire Griffiths
lifted the door…latch and stood before them。 He stood and looked
first on his son; so different; in his buoyant expression of content
and enjoyment; with his noble child in his arms; like a proud and
happy father; as he was; from the depressed; moody young man he too
often appeared at Bodowen; then on Nestpoor; trembling; sickened
Nest!who dropped her work; but yet durst not stir from her seat; on
the dresser; while she looked to her husband as if for protection
from his father。
The Squire was silent; as he glared from one to the other; his
features white with restrained passion。 When he spoke; his words
came most distinct in their forced composure。 It was to his son he
addressed himself:
〃That woman! who is she?〃
Owen hesitated one moment; and then replied; in a steady; yet quiet
voice:
〃Father; that woman is my wife。〃
He would have added some apology for the long concealment of his
marriage; have appealed to his father's forgiveness; but the foam
flew from Squire Owen's lips as he burst forth with invective against
Nest:…
〃You have married her! It is as they told me! Married Nest
Pritchard yr buten! And you stand there as if you had not disgraced
yourself for ever and ever with your accursed wiving! And the fair
harlot sits there; in her mocking modesty; practising the mimming
airs that will become her state as future Lady of Bodowen。 But I
will move heaven and earth before that false woman darken the doors
of my father's house as mistress!〃
All this was said with such rapidity that Owen had no time for the
words that thronged to his lips。 〃Father!〃 (he burst forth at
length) 〃Father; whosoever told you that Nest Pritchard was a harlot
told you a lie as false as hell! Ay! a lie as false as hell!〃 he
added; in a voice of thunder; while he advanced a step or two nearer
to the Squire。 And then; in a lower tone; he said …
〃She is as pure as your own wife; nay; God help me! as the dear;
precious mother who brought me forth; and then left mewith no
refuge in a mother's heartto struggle on through life alone。 I
tell you Nest is as pure as that dear; dead mother!〃
〃Foolpoor fool!〃
At this moment the childthe little Owenwho had kept gazing from
one angry countenance to the other; and with earnest look; trying to
understand what had brought the fierce glare into the face where till
now he had read nothing but love; in some way attracted the Squire's
attention; and increased his wrath。
〃Yes;〃 he continued; 〃poor; weak fool that you are; hugging the child
of another as if it were your own offspring!〃 Owen involuntarily
caressed the affrighted child; and half smiled at the implication of
his father's words。 This the Squire perceived; and raising his voice
to a scream of rage; he went on:
〃I bid you; if you call yourself my son; to cast away that miserable;
shameless woman's offspring; cast it away this instantthis
instant!〃
In this ungovernable rage; seeing that Owen was far from complying
with his command; he snatched the poor infant from the loving arms
that held it; and throwing it to his mother; left the house
inarticulate with fury。
Nestwho had been pale and still as marble during this terrible
dialogue; looking on and listening as if fascinated by the words that
smote her heartopened her arms to receive and cherish her precious
babe; but the boy was not destined to reach the white refuge of her
breast。 The furious action of the Squire had been almost without
aim; and the infant fell against the sharp edge of the dresser down
on to the stone floor。
Owen sprang up to take the child; but he lay so still; so motionless;
that the awe of death came over the father; and he stooped down to
gaze more closely。 At that moment; the upturned; filmy eyes rolled
convulsivelya spasm passed along the bodyand the lips; yet warm
with kissing; quivered into everlasting rest。
A word from her husband told Nest all。 She slid down from her seat;
and lay by her little son as corpse…like as he; unheeding all the
agonizing endearments and passionate adjurations of her husband。 And
that poor; desolate husband and father! Scarce one little quarter of
an hour; and he had been so blessed in his consciousness of love! the
bright promise of many years on his infant's face; and the new; fresh
soul beaming forth in its awakened intelligence。 And there it was;
the little clay image; that would never more gladden up at the sight
of him; nor stretch forth to meet his embrace; whose inarticulate;
yet most eloquent cooings might haunt him in his dreams; but would
never more be heard in waking life again! And by the dead babe;
almost as utterly insensate; the poor mother had fallen in a merciful
faintthe slandered; heart…pierced Nest! Owen struggled against the
sickness that came over him; and busied himself in vain attempts at
her restoration。
It was now near noon…day; and Ellis Pritchard came home; little
dreaming of the sight that awaited him; but though stunned; he was
able to take more effectual measures for his poor daughter's recovery
than Owen had done。
By…and…by she showed symptoms of returning sense; and was placed in
her own little bed in a darkened room; where; without ever waking to
complete consciousness; she fell asleep。 Then it was that her
husband; suffocated by pressure of miserable thought; gently drew his
hand from her tightened clasp; and printing one long soft kiss on her
white waxen forehead; hastily stole out of the room; and out of the
house。
Near the base of Moel Gestit might be a quarter of a mile from Ty
Glaswas a little neglected solitary copse; wild and tangled with
the trailing branches of the dog…rose and the tendrils of the white
bryony。 Toward the middle of this thicket a deep crystal poola
clear mirror for the blue heavens aboveand round the margin floated
the broad green leaves of the water…lily; and when the regal sun
shone down in his noonday glory the flowers arose from their cool
depths to welcome and greet him。 The copse was musical with many
sounds; the warbling of birds rejoicing in its shades; the ceaseless
hum of the insects that hovered over the pool; the chime of the
distant waterfall; the occasional bleating of the sheep from the
mountaintop; were all blended into the delicious harmony of nature。
It had been one of Owen's favourite resorts when he had been a lonely
wanderera pilgrim in search of love in the years gone by。 And
thither he went; as if by instinct; when he left Ty Glas; quelling
the uprising agony till he should reach that little solitary spot。
It was the time of day when a change in the aspect of the weather so
frequently takes place; and the little pool was no longer the
reflection of a blue and sunny sky: it sent back the dark and slaty
clouds above; and; every now and then; a rough gust shook the painted
autumn leaves from their branches; and all other music was lost in
the sound of the wild winds piping down from the moorlands; which lay
up and beyond the clefts in the mountain…side。 Presently the rain
came on and beat down in torrents。
But Owen heeded it not。 He sat on the dank ground; h