The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第6部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

to　the　〃Red　Lion〃；　half　with　the　intention　of　hearing　more。

She　was　the　widow　of　a　Polish　doctor；　he　gathered。　Her
husband　had　died；　a　refugee；　in　London。　She　spoke　a　bit
foreign…like；　but　you　could　easily　make　out　what　she　said。　She
had　one　little　girl　named　Anna。　Lensky　was　the　woman's　name；
Mrs。　Lensky。

Brangwen　felt　that　here　was　the　unreality　established　at
last。　He　felt　also　a　curious　certainty　about　her；　as　if　she　were
destined　to　him。　It　was　to　him　a　profound　satisfaction　that　she
was　a　foreigner。

A　swift　change　had　taken　place　on　the　earth　for　him；　as　if　a
new　creation　were　fulfilled；　in　which　he　had　real　existence。
Things　had　all　been　stark；　unreal；　barren；　mere　nullities
before。　Now　they　were　actualities　that　he　could　handle。

He　dared　scarcely　think　of　the　woman。　He　was　afraid。　Only　all
the　time　he　was　aware　of　her　presence　not　far　off；　he　lived　in
her。　But　he　dared　not　knoself　with　her
by　thinking　of　her。

One　day　he　met　her　walking　along　the　road　with　her　little
girl。　It　was　a　child　with　a　face　like　a　bud　of　apple…blossom；
and　glistening　fair　hair　like　thistle…down　sticking　out　in
straight；　wild；　flamy　pieces；　and　very　dark　eyes。　The　child
clung　jealously　to　her　mother's　side　when　he　looked　at　her；
staring　with　resentful　black　eyes。　But　the　mother　glanced　at　him
again；　almost　vacantly。　And　the　very　vacancy　of　her　look
inflamed　him。　She　had　wide　grey…brown　eyes　with　very　dark；
fathomless　pupils。　He　felt　the　fine　flame　running　under　his
skin；　as　if　all　his　veins　had　caught　fire　on　the　surface。　And　he
went　on　walking　without　knowledge。

It　was　ing；　he　knew；　his　fate。　The　world　was　submitting　to
its　transformation。　He　made　no　move：　it　would　e；　what　would
e。

When　his　sister　Effie　came　to　the　Marsh　for　a　week；　he　went
with　her　for　once　to　church。　In　the　tiny　place；　with　its　mere
dozen　pews；　he　sat　not　far　from　the　stranger。　There　was　a
fineness　about　her；　a　poignancy　about　the　way　she　sat　and　held
her　head　lifted。　She　was　strange；　from　far　off；　yet　so　intimate。
She　was　from　far　away；　a　presence；　so　close　to　his　soul。　She　was
not　really　there；　sitting　in　Cossethay　church　beside　her　little
girl。　She　was　not　living　the　apparent　life　of　her　days。　She
belonged　to　somewhere　else。　He　felt　it　poignantly；　as　something
real　and　natural。　But　a　pang　of　fear　for　his　own　concrete　life；
that　was　only　Cossethay；　hurt　him；　and　gave　him　misgiving。

Her　thick　dark　brows　almost　met　above　her　irregular　nose；　she
had　a　wide；　rather　thick　mouth。　But　her　face　was　lifted　to
another　world　of　life：　not　to　heaven　or　death：　but　to　some　place
where　she　still　lived；　in　spite　of　her　body's　absence。

The　child　beside　her　watched　everything　with　wide；　black
eyes。　She　had　an　odd　little　defiant　look；　her　little　red　mouth
was　pinched　shut。　She　seemed　to　be　jealously　guarding　something；
to　be　always　on　the　alert　for　defence。　She　met　Brangwen's　near；
vacant；　intimate　gaze；　and　a　palpitating　hostility；　almost　like
a　flame　of　pain；　came　into　the　wide；　over…conscious　dark
eyes。

The　old　clergyman　droned　on；　Cossethay　sat　unmoved　as　usual。
And　there　was　the　foreign　woman　with　a　foreign　air　about　her；
inviolate；　and　the　strange　child；　also　foreign；　jealously
guarding　something。

When　the　service　was　over；　he　walked　in　the　way　of　another
existence　out　of　the　church。　As　he　went　down　the　church…path
with　his　sister；　behind　the　woman　and　child；　the　little　girl
suddenly　broke　from　her　mother's　hand；　and　slipped　back　with
quick；　almost　invisible　movement；　and　was　picking　at　something
almost　under　Brangwen's　feet。　Her　tiny　fingers　were　fine　and
quick；　but　they　missed　the　red　button。

〃Have　you　found　something？〃　said　Brangwen　to　her。

And　he　also　stooped　for　the　button。　But　she　had　got　it；　and
she　stood　back　with　it　pressed　against　her　little　coat；　her
black　eyes　flaring　at　him；　as　if　to　forbid　him　to　notice　her。
Then；　having　silenced　him；　she　turned　with　a　swift
〃Mother；〃　and　was　gone　down　the　path。

The　mother　had　stood　watching　impassive；　looking　not　at　the
child；　but　at　Brangwen。　He　became　aware　of　the　woman　looking　at
him；　standing　there　isolated　yet　for　him　dominant　in　her　foreign
existence。

He　did　not　know　what　to　do；　and　turned　to　his　sister。　But　the
wide　grey　eyes；　almost　vacant　yet　so　moving；　held　him　beyond
himself。

〃Mother；　I　may　have　it；　mayn't　I？〃　came　the　child's　proud；
silvery　tones。　〃Mother〃…she　seemed　always　to　be　calling　her
mother　to　remember　her…〃mother〃…and　she　had　nothing　to　continue
now　her　mother　had　replied　〃Yes；　my　child。〃　But；　with　ready
invention；　the　child　stumbled　and　ran　on；　〃What　are　those
people's　names？〃

Brangwen　heard　the　abstract：

〃I　don't　know；　dear。〃

He　went　on　down　the　road　as　if　he　were　not　living　inside
himself；　but　somewhere　outside。

〃Who　was　that　person？〃　his　sister　Effie　asked。

〃I　couldn't　tell　you；〃　he　answered　unknowing。

〃She's　somebody　very　funny；〃　said　Effie；　almost　in
condemnation。　〃That　child's　like　one　bewitched。〃

〃Bewitched……how　bewitched？〃　he　repeated。

〃You　can　see　for　yourself。　The　mother's　plain；　I　must
say……but　the　child　is　like　a　changeling。　She'd　be　about
thirty…five。〃

But　he　took　no　notice。　His　sister　talked　on。

〃There's　your　woman　for　you；〃　she　continued。　〃You'd　better
marry　her。〃　But　still　he　took　no　notice。　Things　were　as
they　were。

Another　day；　at　tea…time；　as　he　sat　alone　at　table；　there
came　a　knock　at　the　front　door。　It　startled　him　like　a　portent。
No　one　ever　knocked　at　the　front　door。　He　rose　and　began
slotting　back　the　bolts；　turning　the　big　key。　When　he　had　opened
the　door；　the　strange　woman　stood　on　the　threshold。

〃Can　you　give　me　a　pound　of　butter？〃　she　asked；　in　a　curious
detached　way　of　one　speaking　a　foreign　language。

He　tried　to　attend　to　her　question。　She　was　looking　at　him
questioningly。　But　underneath　the　question；　what　was　there；　in
her　very　standing　motionless；　which　affected　him？

He　stepped　aside　and　she　at　once　entered　the　house；　as　if　the
door　had　been　opened　to　admit　her。　That　startled　him。　It　was　the
custom　for　everybody　to　wait　on　the　doorstep　till　asked　inside。
He　went　into　the　kitchen　and　she　followed。

His　tea…things　were　spread　on　the　scrubbed　deal　table；　a　big
fire　was　burning；　a　dog　rose　from　the　hearth　and　went　to　her。
She　stood　motionless　just　inside　the　kitchen。

〃Tilly；〃　he　called　loudly；　〃have　we　got　any　butter？〃

The　stranger　stood　there　like　a　silence　in　her　black
cloak。

〃Eh？〃　came　the　shrill　cry　from　the　distance。

He　shouted　his　question　again。

〃We've　got　what's　on　t'　table；〃　answered　Tilly's　shrill　voice
out　of　the　dairy。

Brangwen　looked　at　the　table。　There　was　a　large　pat　of　butter
on　a　plate；　almost　a　pound。　It　was　round；　and　stamped　with
acorns　and　oak…leaves。

〃Can't　you　e　when　you're　wanted？〃　he　shouted。

〃Why；　what　d'you　want？〃　Tilly　protested；　as　she　came　peeking
inquisitively　through　the　other　door。

She　saw　the　strange　woman；　stared　at　her　with　cross…eyes；　but
said　nothing。

〃Haven't　we　any　butter？〃　asked　Brangwen　again；
impatiently；　as　if　he　could　mand　some　by　his　question。

〃I　tell　you　there's　what's　on　t'　table；〃　said　Tilly；
impatient　that　she　was　unable　to　create　any　to　his　demand。　〃We
haven't　a　morsel　besides。〃

There　was　a　moment's　silence。

The　stranger　spoke；　in　her　curiously　distinct；　detached
manner　of　one　who　must　think　her　speech　first。

〃Oh；　then　thank　you　very　much。　I　am　sorry　that　I　have　e　to
trouble　you。〃

She　could　not　understand　the　entire　lack　of　manners；　was
slightly　puzzled。　Any　politeness　would　have　made　the　situation
quite　impersonal。　But　here　it　was　a　case　of　wills　in　confusion。
Brangwen　flushed　at　her　polite　speech。　Still　he　did　not　let　her
go。

〃Get　summat　an'　wrap　that　up　for　her；〃　he　said　to
Tilly；　looking　at　the　butter　on　the　table。

And　taking　a　clean　knife；　he　cut　off　that　side　of　the　butter
where　it　was　touched。

His　speech；　the　〃for　her〃；　penetrated　slowly　into　the　foreign
woman　and　angered　Tilly。

〃Vicar　has　his　butter　fra　Brown's　by　rights；〃　said　the
insuppressible　servant…woman。　〃We　s'll　be　churnin'　to…morrow
mornin'　first　thing。〃

〃Yes〃……the　long…drawn　foreign　yes……〃yes；〃　said　the
Polish　woman；　〃I　went　to　Mrs。　Brown's。　She　hasn't　any　more。〃

Tilly　bridled　her　head；　bursting　to　say　that；　according　to
the　etiquette　of　people　who　bought　butter；　it　was　no　sort　of
manners　whatever　ing　to　a　place　cool　as　you　like　and　knocking
at　the　front　door　asking　for　a　pound　as　a　stop…gap　while　your
other　people　were　short。　If　you　go　to　Brown's　you　go　to　Brown's；
an'　my　butter　isn't　just　to　make　shift　when　Brown's　has　got
none。

Brangwen　understood　perfectly　this　unspoken　speech　of
Tilly's。　The　Polish　lady　did　not。　And　as　she　wanted　butter　for
the　vicar；　and　as　Tilly　was　churning　in　the　morning；　she
waited。

〃Sluther　up　now；〃　said　Brangwen　loudly　after　this　silence　had
resolved　itself　out；　and　Tilly　disappeared　through　the　inner
door。

〃I　am　afraid　that　I　should　not　e；　so；〃　said　the　stranger；
looking　at　him　enquiringly；　as　if　referring　to　him　for　what　it
was　usual　to　do。

He　felt　confused。

〃How's　that？〃　he　said；　trying　to　be　genial　and　being　only
protective。

〃Do　you？〃　she　began　deliberately。　But　she　was
not　sure　of　her　ground；　and　the　conversation　came　to　an　end。　Her
eyes　looked　at　him　all　the　while；　because　she　could　not　speak
the　language。

They　stood　facing　each　other。　The　dog　walked　away　from　her　to
him。　He　bent　down　to　it。

〃And　how's　your　little　girl？〃　he　asked。

〃Yes；　thank　you；　she　is　very　well；〃　was　the　reply；　a　phrase
of　polite　speech　in　a　foreign　language　merely。

〃Sit　you　down；〃　he　said。

And　she　sat　in　a　chair；　her　slim　arms；　ing　through　the
slits　of　her　cloak；　resting　on　her　lap。

〃You're　not　used　to　these　parts；〃　he　said；　still　standing　on
the　hearthrug　with　his　back　to　the　fire；　coatless；　looking　with
curious　directness　at　the　woman。　Her　self…possession　pleased　him
and　inspired　him；　set　him　curiously　free。　It　seemed　to　him
almost　brutal　to　feel　so　master　of　himself　and　of　the
situation。

Her　eyes　rested　on　him　for　a　moment；　questioning；　as　she
thought　of　the　meaning　of　his　speech。

〃No；〃　she　said；　understanding。　〃No……it　is　strange。〃

〃You　find　it　middlin'　rough？〃　he　said。

Her　eyes　waited　on　him；　so　that　he　should　say　it　again。

〃Our　ways　are　rough　to　you；〃　he　repeated。

〃Yes……yes；　I　understand。　Yes；　it　is　different；　it　is
strange。　But　I　was　in　Yorkshire〃

〃Oh；　well　then；〃　he　said；　〃it's　no　worse　here　than　what　they
are　up　there。〃

She　did　not　quite　understand。　His　protective　manner；　and　his
sureness；　and　his　intimacy；　puzzled　her。　What　did　he　mean？　If　he
was　her　equal；　why　did　he　behave　so　without　formality？

〃No〃　she　said；　vaguely；　her　eyes　resting　on
him。

She　saw　him　fresh　and　naive；　uncouth；　almost　entirely
beyond　relationship　with　her。　Yet　he　was　good…looking；　with　his
fair　hair　and　blue　eyes　full　of　energy；　and　with　his　healthy
body　that　seemed　to　take　equality　with　her。　She　watched　him
steadily。　He　was　difficult　for　her　to　understand；　warm；　uncouth；
and　confident　as　he　was；　sure　on　his　feet　as　if　he　did　not　know
what　it　was　to　be　unsure。　What　then　was　it　that　gave　him　this
curious　stability？

She　did　not　know。　She　wondered。