adam bede(亚当[1].比德)-第169节
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two friends turned out on their starlight walk together。
“There’s that poor fool； Vixen； whimpering for me at home；”
said Bartle。 “I can never bring her here with me for fear she
should be struck with Mrs。 Poyser’s eye； and the poor bitch might
go limping for ever after。”
“I’ve never any need to drive Gyp back；” said Adam； laughing。
“He always turns back of his own head when he finds out I’m
coming here。”
“Aye； aye；” said Bartle。 “A terrible woman！—made of needles；
made of needles。 But I stick to Martin—I shall always stick to
Martin。 And he likes the needles； God help him！ He’s a cushion
made on purpose for ’em。”
“But she’s a downright good…natur’d woman； for all that；” said
Adam； “and as true as the daylight。 She’s a bit cross wi’ the dogs
when they offer to come in th’ house； but if they depended on her；
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she’d take care and have ’em well fed。 If her tongue’s keen； her
heart’s tender： I’ve seen that in times o’ trouble。 She’s one o’ those
women as are better than their word。”
“Well； well；” said Bartle； “I don’t say th’ apple isn’t sound at the
core； but it sets my teeth on edge—it sets my teeth on edge。”
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Chapter LIV
The Meeting on the Hill
dam understood Dinah’s haste to go away； and drew hope
Arather than discouragement from it。 She was fearful lest
the strength of her feeling towards him should hinder her
from waiting and listening faithfully for the ultimate guiding voice
from within。
“I wish I’d asked her to write to me； though；” he thought。 “And
yet even that might disturb her a bit； perhaps。 She wants to be
quite quiet in her old way for a while。 And I’ve no right to be
impatient and interrupting her with my wishes。 She’s told me
what her mind is； and she’s not a woman to say one thing and
mean another。 I’ll wait patiently。”
That was Adam’s wise resolution； and it throve excellently for
the first two or three weeks on the nourishment it got from the
remembrance of Dinah’s confession that Sunday afternoon。 There
is a wonderful amount of sustenance in the first few words of love。
But towards the middle of October the resolution began to
dwindle perceptibly； and showed dangerous symptoms of
exhaustion。 The weeks were unusually long： Dinah must surely
have had more than enough time to make up her mind。 Let a
woman say what she will after she has once told a man that she
loves him； he is a little too flushed and exalted with that first
draught she offers him to care much about the taste of the second。
He treads the earth with a very elastic step as he walks away from
her； and makes light of all difficulties。 But that sort of glow dies
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out： memory gets sadly diluted with time； and is not strong enough
to revive us。 Adam was no longer so confident as he had been。 He
began to fear that perhaps Dinah’s old life would have too strong a
grasp upon her for any new feeling to triumph。 If she had not felt
this； she would surely have written to him to give him some
comfort； but it appeared that she held it right to discourage him。
As Adam’s confidence waned； his patience waned with it； and he
thought he must write himself。 He must ask Dinah not to leave
him in painful doubt longer than was needful。 He sat up late one
night to write her a letter； but the next morning he burnt it； afraid
of its effect。 It would be worse to have a discouraging answer by
letter than from her own lips； for her presence reconciled him to
her will。
You perceive how it was： Adam was hungering for the sight of
Dinah； and when that sort of hunger reaches a certain stage； a
lover is likely to still it though he may have to put his future in
pawn。
But what harm could he do by going to Snowfield？ Dinah could
not be displeased with him for it。 She had not forbidden him to go。
She must surely expect that he would go before long。 By the
second Sunday in October this view of the case had become so
clear to Adam that he was already on his way to Snowfield； on
horseback this time； for his hours were precious now； and he had
borrowed Jonathan Burge’s good nag for the journey。
What keen memories went along the road with him！ He had
often been to Oakbourne and back since that first journey to
Snowfield； but beyond Oakbourne the grey stone walls； the broken
country； the meagre trees； seemed to be telling him afresh the
story of that painful past which he knew so well by heart。 But no
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story is the same to us after a lapse of time—or rather； we who
read it are no longer the same interpreters—and Adam this
morning brought with him new thoughts through that grey
country； thoughts which gave an altered significance to its story of
the past。
That is a base and selfish； even a blasphemous； spirit which
rejoices and is thankful over the past evil that has blighted or
crushed another； because it has been made a source of unforeseen
good to ourselves。 Adam could never cease to mourn over that
mystery of human sorrow which had been brought so close to him；
he could never thank God for another’s misery。 And if I were
capable of that narrow…sighted joy in Adam’s behalf； I should still
know he was not the man to feel it for himself。 He would have
shaken his head at such a sentiment and said； “Evil’s evil； and
sorrow’s sorrow； and you can’t alter it’s natur by wrapping it up in
other words。 Other folks were not created for my sake； that I
should think all square when things turn out well for me。”
But it is not ignoble to feel that the fuller life which a sad
experience has brought us is worth our own personal share of
pain。 Surely it is not possible to feel otherwise； any more than it
would be possible for a man with cataract to regret the painful
process by which his dim blurred sight of men as trees walking
had been exchanged for clear outline and effulgent day。 The
growth of higher feeling within us is like the growth of faculty；
bringing with it a sense of added strength。 We can no more wish to
return to a narrower sympathy than a painter or a musician can
wish to return to his cruder manner； or a philosopher to his less
complete formula。
Something like this sense of enlarged being was in Adam’s
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mind this Sunday morning； as he rode along in vivid recollection
of the past。 His feeling towards Dinah； the hope of passing his life
with her； had been the distant unseen point towards which that
hard journey from Snowfield eighteen months ago had been
leading him。 Tender and deep as his love for Hetty had been—so
deep that the roots of it would never be
