The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第7部分

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what　it　was　to　be　unsure。　What　then　was　it　that　gave　him　this
curious　stability？

She　did　not　know。　She　wondered。　She　looked　round　the　room　he
lived　in。　It　had　a　close　intimacy　that　fascinated　and　almost
frightened　her。　The　furniture　was　old　and　familiar　as　old
people；　the　whole　place　seemed　so　kin　to　him；　as　if　it　partook
of　his　being；　that　she　was　uneasy。

〃It　is　already　a　long　time　that　you　have　lived　in　this
house……yes？〃　she　asked。

〃I've　always　lived　here；〃　he　said。

〃Yes……but　your　people……your　family？〃

〃We've　been　here　above　two　hundred　years；〃　he　said。　Her　eyes
were　on　him　all　the　time；　wide…open　and　trying　to　grasp　him。　He
felt　that　he　was　there　for　her。

〃It　is　your　own　place；　the　house；　the
farm？〃

〃Yes；〃　he　said。　He　looked　down　at　her　and　met　her　look。　It
disturbed　her。　She　did　not　know　him。　He　was　a　foreigner；　they
had　nothing　to　do　with　each　other。　Yet　his　look　disturbed　her　to
knowledge　of　him。　He　was　so　strangely　confident　and　direct。

〃You　live　quite　alone？〃

〃Yes……if　you　call　it　alone？〃

She　did　not　understand。　It　seemed　unusual　to　her。　What　was
the　meaning　of　it？

And　whenever　her　eyes；　after　watching　him　for　some　time；
inevitably　met　his；　she　was　aware　of　a　heat　beating　up　over　her
consciousness。　She　sat　motionless　and　in　conflict。　Who　was　this
strange　man　who　was　at　once　so　near　to　her？　What　was　happening
to　her？　Something　in　his　young；　warm…twinkling　eyes　seemed　to
assume　a　right　to　her；　to　speak　to　her；　to　extend　her　his
protection。　But　how？　Why　did　he　speak　to　her？　Why　were　his　eyes
so　certain；　so　full　of　light　and　confident；　waiting　for　no
permission　nor　signal？

Tilly　returned　with　a　large　leaf　and　found　the　two　silent。　At
once　he　felt　it　incumbent　on　him　to　speak；　now　the　serving…woman
had　e　back。

〃How　old　is　your　little　girl？〃　he　asked。

〃Four　years；〃　she　replied。

〃Her　father　hasn't　been　dead　long；　then？〃　he　asked。

〃She　was　one　year　when　he　died。〃

〃Three　years？〃

〃Yes；　three　years　that　he　is　dead……yes。〃

Curiously　quiet　she　was；　almost　abstracted；　answering　these
questions。　She　looked　at　him　again；　with　some　maidenhood　opening
in　her　eyes。　He　felt　he　could　not　move；　neither　towards　her　nor
away　from　her。　Something　about　her　presence　hurt　him；　till　he
was　almost　rigid　before　her。　He　saw　the　girl's　wondering　look
rise　in　her　eyes。

Tilly　handed　her　the　butter　and　she　rose。

〃Thank　you　very　much；〃　she　said。　〃How　much　is　it？〃

〃We'll　make　th'　vicar　a　present　of　it；〃　he　said。　〃It'll　do
for　me　goin'　to　church。〃

〃It　'ud　look　better　of　you　if　you　went　to　church　and　took　th'
money　for　your　butter；〃　said　Tilly；　persistent　in　her　claim　to
him。

〃You'd　have　to　put　in；　shouldn't　you？〃　he　said。

〃How　much；　please？〃　said　the　Polish　woman　to　Tilly。　Brangwen
stood　by　and　let　be。

〃Then；　thank　you　very　much；〃　she　said。

〃Bring　your　little　girl　down　sometime　to　look　at　th'　fowls
and　horses；〃　he　said；……〃if　she'd　like　it。〃

〃Yes；　she　would　like　it；〃　said　the　stranger。

And　she　went。　Brangwen　stood　dimmed　by　her　departure。　He
could　not　notice　Tilly；　who　was　looking　at　him　uneasily；　wanting
to　be　reassured。　He　could　not　think　of　anything。　He　felt　that　he
had　made　some　invisible　connection　with　the　strange　woman。

A　daze　had　e　over　his　mind；　he　had　another　centre　of
consciousness。　In　his　breast；　or　in　his　bowels；　somewhere　in　his
body；　there　had　started　another　activity。　It　was　as　if　a　strong
light　were　burning　there；　and　he　was　blind　within　it；　unable　to
know　anything；　except　that　this　transfiguration　burned　between
him　and　her；　connecting　them；　like　a　secret　power。

Since　she　had　e　to　the　house　he　went　about　in　a　daze；
scarcely　seeing　even　the　things　he　handled；　drifting；　quiescent；
in　a　state　of　metamorphosis。　He　submitted　to　that　which　was
happening　to　him；　letting　go　his　will；　suffering　the　loss　of
himself；　dormant　always　on　the　brink　of　ecstasy；　like　a　creature
evolving　to　a　new　birth。

She　came　twice　with　her　child　to　the　farm；　but　there　was　this
lull　between　them；　an　intense　calm　and　passivity　like　a　torpor
upon　them；　so　that　there　was　no　active　change　took　place。　He　was
almost　unaware　of　the　child；　yet　by　his　native　good　humour　he
gained　her　confidence；　even　her　affection；　setting　her　on　a
horse　to　ride；　giving　her　corn　for　the　fowls。

Once　he　drove　the　mother　and　child　from　Ilkeston；　picking
them　up　on　the　road。　The　child　huddled　close　to　him　as　if　for
love；　the　mother　sat　very　still。　There　was　a　vagueness；　like　a
soft　mist　over　all　of　them；　and　a　silence　as　if　their　wills　were
suspended。　Only　he　saw　her　hands；　ungloved；　folded　in　her　lap；
and　he　noticed　the　wedding…ring　on　her　finger。　It　excluded　him：
it　was　a　closed　circle。　It　bound　her　life；　the　wedding…ring；　it
stood　for　her　life　in　which　he　could　have　no　part。　Nevertheless；
beyond　all　this；　there　was　herself　and　himself　which　should
meet。

As　he　helped　her　down　from　the　trap；　almost　lifting　her；　he
felt　he　had　some　right　to　take　her　thus　between　his　hands。　She
belonged　as　yet　to　that　other；　to　that　which　was　behind。　But　he
must　care　for　her　also。　She　was　too　living　to　be　neglected。

Sometimes　her　vagueness；　in　which　he　was　lost；　made　him
angry；　made　him　rage。　But　he　held　himself　still　as　yet。　She　had
no　response；　no　being　towards　him。　It　puzzled　and　enraged　him；
but　he　submitted　for　a　long　time。　Then；　from　the　accumulated
troubling　of　her　ignoring　him；　gradually　a　fury　broke　out；
destructive；　and　he　wanted　to　go　away；　to　escape　her。

It　happened　she　came　down　to　the　Marsh　with　the　child　whilst
he　was　in　this　state。　Then　he　stood　over　against　her；　strong　and
heavy　in　his　revolt；　and　though　he　said　nothing；　still　she　felt
his　anger　and　heavy　impatience　grip　hold　of　her；　she　was　shaken
again　as　out　of　a　torpor。　Again　her　heart　stirred　with　a　quick；
out…running　impulse；　she　looked　at　him；　at　the　stranger　who　was
not　a　gentleman　yet　who　insisted　on　ing　into　her　life；　and
the　pain　of　a　new　birth　in　herself　strung　all　her　veins　to　a　new
form。　She　would　have　to　begin　again；　to　find　a　new　being；　a　new
form；　to　respond　to　that　blind；　insistent　figure　standing　over
against　her。

A　shiver；　a　sickness　of　new　birth　passed　over　her；　the　flame
leaped　up　him；　under　his　skin。　She　wanted　it；　this　new　life　from
him；　with　him；　yet　she　must　defend　herself　against　it；　for　it
was　a　destruction。

As　he　worked　alone　on　the　land；　or　sat　up　with　his　ewes　at
lambing　time；　the　facts　and　material　of　his　daily　life　fell
away；　leaving　the　kernel　of　his　purpose　clean。　And　then　it　came
upon　him　that　he　would　marry　her　and　she　would　be　his　life。

Gradually；　even　without　seeing　her；　he　came　to　know　her。　He
would　have　liked　to　think　of　her　as　of　something　given　into　his
protection；　like　a　child　without　parents。　But　it　was　forbidden
him。　He　had　to　e　down　from　this　pleasant　view　of　the　case。
She　might　refuse　him。　And　besides；　he　was　afraid　of　her。

But　during　the　long　February　nights　with　the　ewes　in　labour；
looking　out　from　the　shelter　into　the　flashing　stars；　he　knew　he
did　not　belong　to　himself。　He　must　admit　that　he　was　only
fragmentary；　something　inplete　and　subject。　There　were　the
stars　in　the　dark　heaven　travelling；　the　whole　host　passing　by
on　some　eternal　voyage。　So　he　sat　small　and　submissive　to　the
greater　ordering。

Unless　she　would　e　to　him；　he　must　remain　as　a
nothingness。　It　was　a　hard　experience。　But；　after　her　repeated
obliviousness　to　him；　after　he　had　seen　so　often　that　he　did　not
exist　for　her；　after　he　had　raged　and　tried　to　escape；　and　said
he　was　good　enough　by　himself；　he　was　a　man；　and　could　stand
alone；　he　must；　in　the　starry　multiplicity　of　the　night　humble
himself；　and　admit　and　know　that　without　her　he　was　nothing。

He　was　nothing。　But　with　her；　he　would　be　real。　If　she　were
now　walking　across　the　frosty　grass　near　the　sheep…shelter；
through　the　fretful　bleating　of　the　ewes　and　lambs；　she　would
bring　him　pleteness　and　perfection。　And　if　it　should　be　so；
that　she　should　e　to　him！　It　should　be　so……it　was
ordained　so。

He　was　a　long　time　resolving　definitely　to　ask　her　to　marry
him。　And　he　knew；　if　he　asked　her；　she　must　really　acquiesce。
She　must；　it　could　not　be　otherwise。

He　had　learned　a　little　of　her。　She　was　poor；　quite　alone；
and　had　had　a　hard　time　in　London；　both　before　and　after　her
husband　died。　But　in　Poland　she　was　a　lady　well　born；　a
landowner's　daughter。

All　these　things　were　only　words　to　him；　the　fact　of　her
superior　birth；　the　fact　that　her　husband　had　been　a　brilliant
doctor；　the　fact　that　he　himself　was　her　inferior　in　almost
every　way　of　distinction。　There　was　an　inner　reality；　a　logic　of
the　soul；　which　connected　her　with　him。

One　evening　in　March；　when　the　wind　was　roaring　outside；　came
the　moment　to　ask　her。　He　had　sat　with　his　hands　before　him；
leaning　to　the　fire。　And　as　he　watched　the　fire；　he　knew　almost
without　thinking　that　he　was　going　this　evening。

〃Have　you　got　a　clean　shirt？〃　he　asked　Tilly。

〃You　know　you've　got　clean　shirts；〃　she　said。

〃Ay；……bring　me　a　white　one。〃

Tilly　brought　down　one　of　the　linen　shirts　he　had　inherited
from　his　father；　putting　it　before　him　to　air　at　the　fire。　She
loved　him　with　a　dumb；　aching　love　as　he　sat　leaning　with　his
arms　on　his　knees；　still　and　absorbed；　unaware　of　her。　Lately；　a
quivering　inclination　to　cry　had　e　over　her；　when　she　did
anything　for　him　in　his　presence。　Now　her　hands　trembled　as　she
spread　the　shirt。　He　was　never　shouting　and　teasing　now。　The
deep　stillness　there　was　in　the　house　made　her　tremble。

He　went　to　wash　himself。　Queer　little　breaks　of　consciousness
seemed　to　rise　and　burst　like　bubbles　out　of　the　depths　of　his
stillness。

〃It's　got　to　be　done；〃　he　said　as　he　stooped　to　take　the
shirt　out　of　the　fender；　〃it's　got　to　be　done；　so　why　balk　it？〃
And　as　he　bed　his　hair　before　the　mirror　on　the　wall；　he
retorted　to　himself；　superficially：　〃The　woman's　not　speechless
dumb。　She's　not　clutterin'　at　the　nipple。　She's　got　the　right　to
please　herself；　and　displease　whosoever　she　likes。〃

This　streak　of　mon　sense　carried　him　a　little　further。

〃Did　you　want　anythink？〃　asked　Tilly；　suddenly　appearing；
having　heard　him　speak。　She　stood　watching　him　b　his　fair
beard。　His　eyes　were　calm　and　uninterrupted。

〃Ay；〃　he　said；　〃where　have　you　put　the　scissors？〃

She　brought　them　to　him；　and　stood　watching　as；　chin　forward；
he　trimmed　his　beard。

〃Don't　go　an'　crop　yourself　as　if　you　was　at　a　shearin'
contest；〃　she　said；　anxiously。　He　blew　the　fine…curled　hair
quickly　off　his　lips。

He　put　on　all　clean　clothes；　folded　his　stock　carefully；　and
donned　his　best　coat。　Then；　being　ready；　as　grey　twilight　was
falling；　he　went　across　to　the　orchard　to　gather　the　daffodils。
The　wind　was　roaring　in　the　apple　trees；　the　yellow　flowers
swayed　violently　up　and　down；　he　heard　even　the　fine　whisper　of
their　spears　as　he　stooped　to　break　the　flattened；　brittle　stems
of　the　flowers。

〃What's　to…do？〃　shouted　a　friend　who　met　him　as　he　left　the
garden　gate。

〃Bit　of　courtin'；　like；〃　said　Brangwen。

And　Tilly；　in　a　great　state　of　trepidation　and　excitement；
let　the　wind　whisk　her　over　the　field　to　the　big　gate；　whence
she　could　watch　him　go。

He　went　up　the　hill　and　o