The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第46部分

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refining。　She　caused　the　separateness　and　individuality　of　all
the　Marsh　inmates；　the　friability　of　the　household。

When　young　Tom　Brangwen　was　twenty…three　years　old　there　was
some　breach　between　him　and　his　chief　which　was　never　explained；
and　he　went　away　to　Italy；　then　to　America。　He　came　home　for　a
while；　then　went　to　Germany；　always　the　same　good…looking；
carefully…dressed；　attractive　young　man；　in　perfect　health；　yet
somehow　outside　of　everything。　In　his　dark　eyes　was　a　deep
misery　which　he　wore　with　the　same　ease　and　pleasantness　as　he
wore　his　close…sitting　clothes。

To　Ursula　he　was　a　romantic；　alluring　figure。　He　had　a　grace
of　bringing　beautiful　presents：　a　box　of　expensive　sweets；　such
as　Cossethay　had　never　seen；　or　he　gave　her　a　hair…brush　and　a
long　slim　mirror　of　mother…of…pearl；　all　pale　and　glimmering　and
exquisite；　or　he　sent　her　a　little　necklace　of　rough　stones；
amethyst　and　opal　and　brilliants　and　garnet。　He　spoke　other
languages　easily　and　fluently；　his　nature　was　curiously　gracious
and　insinuating。　With　all　that；　he　was　undefinably　an　outsider。
He　belonged　to　nowhere；　to　no　society。

Anna　Brangwen　had　left　her　intimacy　with　her　father
undeveloped　since　the　time　of　her　marriage。　At　her　marriage　it
had　been　abandoned。　He　and　she　had　drawn　a　reserve　between　them。
Anna　went　more　to　her　mother。

Then　suddenly　the　father　died。

It　happened　one　springtime　when　Ursula　was　about　eight　years
old；　he；　Tom　Brangwen；　drove　off　on　a　Saturday　morning　to　the
market　in　Nottingham；　saying　he　might　not　be　back　till　late；　as
there　was　a　special　show　and　then　a　meeting　he　had　to　attend。
His　family　understood　that　he　would　enjoy　himself。

The　season　had　been　rainy　and　dreary。　In　the　evening　it　was
pouring　with　rain。　Fred　Brangwen；　unsettled；　uneasy；　did　not　go
out；　as　was　his　wont。　He　smoked　and　read　and　fidgeted；　hearing
always　the　trickling　of　water　outside。　This　wet；　black　night
seemed　to　cut　him　off　and　make　him　unsettled；　aware　of　himself；
aware　that　he　wanted　something　else；　aware　that　he　was　scarcely
living。　There　seemed　to　him　to　be　no　root　to　his　life；　no　place
for　him　to　get　satisfied　in。　He　dreamed　of　going　abroad。　But　his
instinct　knew　that　change　of　place　would　not　solve　his　problem。
He　wanted　change；　deep；　vital　change　of　living。　And　he　did　not
know　how　to　get　it。

Tilly；　an　old　woman　now；　came　in　saying　that　the　labourers
who　had　been　suppering　up　said　the　yard　and　everywhere　was　just
a　slew　of　water。　He　heard　in　indifference。　But　he　hated　a
desolate；　raw　wetness　in　the　world。　He　would　leave　the
Marsh。

His　mother　was　in　bed。　At　last　he　shut　his　book；　his　mind　was
blank；　he　walked　upstairs　intoxicated　with　depression　and　anger；
and；　intoxicated　with　depression　and　anger；　locked　himself　into
sleep。

Tilly　set　slippers　before　the　kitchen　fire；　and　she　also　went
to　bed；　leaving　the　door　unlocked。　Then　the　farm　was　in
darkness；　in　the　rain。

At　eleven　o'clock　it　was　still　raining。　Tom　Brangwen　stood　in
the　yard　of　the　〃Angel〃；　Nottingham；　and　buttoned　his　coat。

〃Oh；　well；〃　he　said　cheerfully；　〃it's　rained　on　me　before。
Put　'er　in；　Jack；　my　lad；　put　her　in……Tha'rt　a　rare　old
cock；　Jacky…boy；　wi'　a　belly　on　thee　as　does　credit　to　thy
drink；　if　not　to　thy　corn。　Co'　up　lass；　let's　get　off　ter　th'
old　homestead。　Oh；　my　heart；　what　a　wetness　in　the　night！
There'll　be　no　volcanoes　after　this。　Hey；　Jack；　my　beautiful
young　slender　feller；　which　of　us　is　Noah？　It　seems　as　though
the　water…works　is　bursted。　Ducks　and　ayquatic　fowl　'll　be　king
o'　the　castle　at　this　rate……dove　an'　olive　branch　an'　all。
Stand　up　then；　gel；　stand　up；　we're　not　stoppin'　here　all　night；
even　if　you　thought　we　was。　I'm　dashed　if　the　jumping　rain
wouldn't　make　anybody　think　they　was　drunk。　Hey；　Jack……does
rain…water　wash　the　sense　in；　or　does　it　wash　it　out？〃　And　he
laughed　to　himself　at　the　joke。

He　was　always　ashamed　when　he　had　to　drive　after　he　had　been
drinking；　always　apologetic　to　the　horse。　His　apologetic　frame
made　him　facetious。　He　was　aware　of　his　inability　to　walk　quite
straight。　Nevertheless　his　will　kept　stiff　and　attentive；　in　all
his　fuddleness。

He　mounted　and　bowled　off　through　the　gates　of　the　innyard。
The　mare　went　well；　he　sat　fixed；　the　rain　beating　on　his　face。
His　heavy　body　rode　motionless　in　a　kind　of　sleep；　one　centre　of
attention　was　kept　fitfully　burning；　the　rest　was　dark。　He
concentrated　his　last　attention　on　the　fact　of　driving　along　the
road　he　knew　so　well。　He　knew　it　so　well；　he　watched　for　it
attentively；　with　an　effort　of　will。

He　talked　aloud　to　himself；　sententious　in　his　anxiety；　as　if
he　were　perfectly　sober；　whilst　the　mare　bowled　along　and　the
rain　beat　on　him。　He　watched　the　rain　before　the　gig…lamps；　the
faint　gleaming　of　the　shadowy　horse's　body；　the　passing　of　the
dark　hedges。

〃It's　not　a　fit　night　to　turn　a　dog　out；〃　he　said　to　himself；
aloud。　〃It's　high　time　as　it　did　a　bit　of　clearing　up；　I'll　be
damned　if　it　isn't。　It　was　a　lot　of　use　putting　those　ten　loads
of　cinders　on　th'　road。　They'll　be　washed　to　kingdom…e　if　it
doesn't　alter。　Well；　it's　our　Fred's　look…out；　if　they　are。　He's
top…sawyer　as　far　as　those　things　go。　I　don't　see　why　I　should
concern　myself。　They　can　wash　to　kingdom…e　and　back　again　for
what　I　care。　I　suppose　they　would　be　washed　back　again　some　day。
That's　how　things　are。　Th'　rain　tumbles　down　just　to　mount　up　in
clouds　again。　So　they　say。　There's　no　more　water　on　the　earth
than　there　was　in　the　year　naught。　That's　the　story；　my　boy；　if
you　understand　it。　There's　no　more　to…day　than　there　was　a
thousand　years　ago……nor　no　less　either。　You　can't　wear
water　out。　No；　my　boy：　it'll　give　you　the　go…by。　Try　to　wear　it
out；　and　it　takes　its　hook　into　vapour；　it　has　its　fingers　at
its　nose　to　you。　It　turns　into　cloud　and　falleth　as　rain　on　the
just　and　unjust。　I　wonder　if　I'm　the　just　or　the　unjust。〃

He　started　awake　as　the　trap　lurched　deep　into　a　rut。　And　he
wakened　to　the　point　in　his　journey。　He　had　travelled　some
distance　since　he　was　last　conscious。

But　at　length　he　reached　the　gate；　and　stumbled　heavily　down；
reeling；　gripping　fast　to　the　trap。　He　descended　into　several
inches　of　water。

〃Be　damned！〃　he　said　angrily。　〃Be　damned　to　the　miserable
slop。〃

And　he　led　the　horse　washing　through　the　gate。　He　was　quite
drunk　now；　moving　blindly；　in　habit。　Everywhere　there　was　water
underfoot。

The　raised　causeway　of　the　house　and　the　farm…stead　was　dry；
however。　But　there　was　a　curious　roar　in　the　night　which　seemed
to　be　made　in　the　darkness　of　his　own　intoxication。　Reeling；
blinded；　almost　without　consciousness　he　carried　his　parcels　and
the　rug　and　cushions　into　the　house；　dropped　them；　and　went　out
to　put　up　the　horse。

Now　he　was　at　home；　he　was　a　sleep…walker；　waiting　only　for
the　moment　of　activity　to　stop。　Very　deliberately　and　carefully；
he　led　the　horse　down　the　slope　to　the　cart…shed。　She　shied　and
backed。

〃Why；　wha's　amiss？〃　he　hiccupped；　plodding　steadily　on。　And
he　was　again　in　a　wash　of　water；　the　horse　splashed　up　water　as
he　went。　It　was　thickly　dark；　save　for　the　gig…lamps；　and　they
lit　on　a　rippling　surface　of　water。

〃Well；　that's　a　knock…out；〃　he　said；　as　he　came　to　the
cart…shed；　and　was　wading　in　six　inches　of　water。　But　everything
seemed　to　him　amusing。　He　laughed　to　think　of　six　inches　of
water　being　in　the　cart…shed。

He　backed　in　the　mare。　She　was　restive。　He　laughed　at　the　fun
of　untackling　the　mare　with　a　lot　of　water　washing　round　his
feet。　He　laughed　because　it　upset　her。　〃What's　amiss；　what's
amiss；　a　drop　o'　water　won't　hurt　you！〃　As　soon　as　he　had　undone
the　traces；　she　walked　quickly　away。

He　hung　up　the　shafts　and　took　the　gig…lamp。　As　he　came　out
of　the　familiar　jumble　of　shafts　and　wheels　in　the　shed；　the
water；　in　little　waves；　came　washing　strongly　against　his　legs。
He　staggered　and　almost　fell。

〃Well；　what　the　deuce！〃　he　said；　staring　round　at　the　running
water　in　the　black；　watery　night。

He　went　to　meet　the　running　flood；　sinking　deeper　and　deeper。
His　soul　was　full　of　great　astonishment。　He　had　to　go　and
look　where　it　came　from；　though　the　ground　was　going　from　under
his　feet。　He　went　on；　down　towards　the　pond；　shakily。　He　rather
enjoyed　it。　He　was　knee…deep；　and　the　water　was　pulling　heavily。
He　stumbled；　reeled　sickeningly。

Fear　took　hold　of　him。　Gripping　tightly　to　the　lamp；　he
reeled；　and　looked　round。　The　water　was　carrying　his　feet　away；
he　was　dizzy。　He　did　not　know　which　way　to　turn。　The　water　was
whirling；　whirling；　the　whole　black　night　was　swooping　in　rings。
He　swayed　uncertainly　at　the　centre　of　all　the　attack；　reeling
in　dismay。　In　his　soul；　he　knew　he　would　fall。

As　he　staggered　something　in　the　water　struck　his　legs；　and
he　fell。　Instantly　he　was　in　the　turmoil　of　suffocation。　He
fought　in　a　black　horror　of　suffocation；　fighting；　wrestling；
but　always　borne　down；　borne　inevitably　down。　Still　he　wrestled
and　fought　to　get　himself　free；　in　the　unutterable　struggle　of
suffocation；　but　he　always　fell　again　deeper。　Something　struck
his　head；　a　great　wonder　of　anguish　went　over　him；　then　the
blackness　covered　him　entirely。

In　the　utter　darkness；　the　unconscious；　drowning　body　was
rolled　along；　the　waters　pouring；　washing；　filling　in　the　place。
The　cattle　woke　up　and　rose　to　their　feet；　the　dog　began　to
yelp。　And　the　unconscious；　drowning　body　was　washed　along　in　the
black；　swirling　darkness；　passively。

Mrs。　Brangwen　woke　up　and　listened。　With　preternaturally
sharp　senses　she　heard　the　movement　of　all　the　darkness　that
swirled　outside。　For　a　moment　she　lay　still。　Then　she　went　to
the　window。　She　heard　the　sharp　rain；　and　the　deep　running　of
water。　She　knew　her　husband　was　outside。

〃Fred；〃　she　called；　〃Fred！〃

Away　in　the　night　was　a　hoarse；　brutal　roar　of　a　mass　of
water　rushing　downwards。

She　went　downstairs。　She　could　not　understand　the　multiplied
running　of　water。　Stepping　down　the　step　into　the　kitchen；　she
put　her　foot　into　water。　The　kitchen　was　flooded。　Where　did　it
e　from？　She　could　not　understand。

Water　was　running　in　out　of　the　scullery。　She　paddled　through
barefoot；　to　see。　Water　was　bubbling　fiercely　under　the　outer
door。　She　was　afraid。　Then　something　washed　against　her；
something　twined　under　her　foot。　It　was　the　riding　whip。　On　the
table　were　the　rug　and　the　cushion　and　the　parcel　from　the
gig。

He　had　e　home。

〃Tom！〃　she　called；　afraid　of　her　own　voice。

She　opened　the　door。　Water　ran　in　with　a　horrid　sound。
Everywhere　was　moving　water；　a　sound　of　waters。

〃Tom！〃　she　cried；　standing　in　her　nightdress　with　the　candle；
calling　into　the　darkness　and　the　flood　out　of　the　doorway。

〃Tom！　Tom！〃

And　she　listened。　Fred　appeared　behind　her；　in　trousers　and
shirt。

〃Where　is　he？〃　he　asked。

He　looked　at　the　flood；　then　at　his　mother。　She　seemed　small
and　uncanny；　elvish；　in　her　nightdress。

〃Go　upstairs；〃　he　said。　〃He'll　be　in　th'　stable。〃

〃To……om！　To……om！〃　cried　the　elderly　woman；　with　a
long；　unnatural；　penetrating　call　that　chilled　her　son　to　the
marrow。　He　quickly　pulled　on　his　boots　and　his　coat。

〃Go　upstairs；　mother；〃　he　said；　〃I'll　go　an'　see　where　he
is。〃

〃To……om！　To……o……om！〃　ra