The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第78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！

of　place　it　was　to　be　she　did　not　ask　herself。　The　blind　desire
drove　her　on。　She　must　take　her　place。

She　knew　she　would　never　be　much　of　a　success　as　an
elementary　school　teacher。　But　neither　had　she　failed。　She　hated
it；　but　she　had　managed　it。

Maggie　had　left　St。　Philip's　School；　and　had　found　a　more
congenial　post。　The　two　girls　remained　friends。　They　met　at
evening　classes；　they　studied　and　somehow　encouraged　a　firm　hope
each　in　the　other。　They　did　not　know　whither　they　were　making；
nor　what　they　ultimately　wanted。　But　they　knew　they　wanted　now
to　learn；　to　know　and　to　do。

They　talked　of　love　and　marriage；　and　the　position　of　woman
in　marriage。　Maggie　said　that　love　was　the　flower　of　life；　and
blossomed　unexpectedly　and　without　law；　and　must　be　plucked
where　it　was　found；　and　enjoyed　for　the　brief　hour　of　its
duration。

To　Ursula　this　was　unsatisfactory。　She　thought　she　still
loved　Anton　Skrebensky。　But　she　did　not　forgive　him　that　he　had
not　been　strong　enough　to　acknowledge　her。　He　had　denied　her。
How　then　could　she　love　him？　How　then　was　love　so　absolute？　She
did　not　believe　it。　She　believed　that　love　was　a　way；　a　means；
not　an　end　in　itself；　as　Maggie　seemed　to　think。　And　always　the
way　of　love　would　be　found。　But　whither　did　it　lead？

〃I　believe　there　are　many　men　in　the　world　one　might
love……there　is　not　only　one　man；〃　said　Ursula。

She　was　thinking　of　Skrebensky。　Her　heart　was　hollow　with　the
knowledge　of　Winifred　Inger。

〃But　you　must　distinguish　between　love　and　passion；〃　said
Maggie；　adding；　with　a　touch　of　contempt：　〃Men　will　easily　have
a　passion　for　you；　but　they　won't　love　you。〃

〃Yes；〃　said　Ursula；　vehemently；　the　look　of　suffering；　almost
of　fanaticism；　on　her　face。　〃Passion　is　only　part　of　love。　And
it　seems　so　much　because　it　can't　last。　That　is　why　passion　is
never　happy。〃

She　was　staunch　for　joy；　for　happiness；　and　permanency；　in
contrast　with　Maggie；　who　was　for　sadness；　and　the　inevitable
passing…away　of　things。　Ursula　suffered　bitterly　at　the　hands　of
life；　Maggie　was　always　single；　always　withheld；　so　she　went　in
a　heavy　brooding　sadness　that　was　almost　meat　to　her。　In
Ursula's　last　winter　at　St。　Philip's　the　friendship　of　the　two
girls　came　to　a　climax。　It　was　during　this　winter　that　Ursula
suffered　and　enjoyed　most　keenly　Maggie's　fundamental　sadness　of
enclosedness。　Maggie　enjoyed　and　suffered　Ursula's　struggles
against　the　confines　of　her　life。　And　then　the　two　girls　began
to　drift　apart；　as　Ursula　broke　from　that　form　of　life　wherein
Maggie　must　remain　enclosed。



CHAPTER　XIV

THE　WIDENING　CIRCLE

Maggie's　people；　the　Schofields；　lived　in　the　large
gardener's　cottage；　that　was　half　a　farm；　behind　Belcote　Hall。
The　hall　was　too　damp　to　live　in；　so　the　Schofields　were
caretakers；　gamekeepers；　farmers；　all　in　one。　The　father　was
gamekeeper　and　stock…breeder；　the　eldest　son　was
market…gardener；　using　the　big　hall　gardens；　the　second　son　was
farmer　and　gardener。　There　was　a　large　family；　as　at
Cossethay。

Ursula　loved　to　stay　at　Belcote；　to　be　treated　as　a　grand
lady　by　Maggie's　brothers。　They　were　good…looking　men。　The
eldest　was　twenty…six　years　old。　He　was　the　gardener；　a　man　not
very　tall；　but　strong　and　well　made；　with　brown；　sunny；　easy
eyes　and　a　face　handsomely　hewn；　brown；　with　a　long　fair
moustache　which　he　pulled　as　he　talked　to　Ursula。

The　girl　was　excited　because　these　men　attended　to　her　when
she　came　near。　She　could　make　their　eyes　light　up　and　quiver；
she　could　make　Anthony；　the　eldest；　twist　and　twist　his
moustache。　She　knew　she　could　move　them　almost　at　will　with　her
light　laughter　and　chatter。　They　loved　her　ideas；　watched　her　as
she　talked　vehemently　about　politics　or　economics。　And　she；
while　she　talked；　saw　the　golden…brown　eyes　of　Anthony　gleam
like　the　eyes　of　a　satyr　as　they　watched　her。　He　did　not　listen
to　her　words；　he　listened　to　her。　It　excited　her。

He　was　like　a　faun　pleased　when　she　would　go　with　him　over
his　hothouses；　to　look　at　the　green　and　pretty　plants；　at　the
pink　primulas　nodding　among　their　leaves；　and　cinarrias
flaunting　purple　and　crimson　and　white。　She　asked　about
everything；　and　he　told　her　very　exactly　and　minutely；　in　a
queer　pedantic　way　that　made　her　want　to　laugh。　Yet　she　was
really　interested　in　what　he　did。　And　he　had　the　curious　light
in　his　face；　like　the　light　in　the　eyes　of　the　goat　that　was
tethered　by　the　farmyard　gate。

She　went　down　with　him　into　the　warmish　cellar；　where　already
in　the　darkness　the　little　yellow　knobs　of　rhubarb　were　ing。
He　held　the　lantern　down　to　the　dark　earth。　She　saw　the　tiny
knob…end　of　the　rhubarb　thrusting　upwards　upon　the　thick　red
stem；　thrusting　itself　like　a　knob　of　flame　through　the　soft
soil。　His　face　was　turned　up　to　her；　the　light　glittered　on　his
eyes　and　his　teeth　as　he　laughed；　with　a　faint；　musical　neigh。
He　looked　handsome。　And　she　heard　a　new　sound　in　her　ears；　the
faintly…musical；　neighing　laugh　of　Anthony；　whose　moustache
twisted　up；　and　whose　eyes　were　luminous　with　a　cold；　steady；
arrogant…laughing　glare。　There　seemed　a　little　prance　of　triumph
in　his　movement；　she　could　not　rid　herself　of　a　movement　of
acquiescence；　a　touch　of　acceptance。　Yet　he　was　so　humble；　his
voice　was　so　caressing。　He　held　his　hand　for　her　to　step　on　when
she　must　climb　a　wall。　And　she　stepped　on　the　living　firmness　of
him；　that　quivered　firmly　under　her　weight。

She　was　aware　of　him　as　if　in　a　mesmeric　state。　In　her
ordinary　sense；　she　had　nothing　to　do　with　him。　But　the　peculiar
ease　and　unnoticeableness　of　his　entering　the　house；　the　power
of　his　cold；　gleaming　light　on　her　when　he　looked　at　her；　was
like　a　bewitchment。　In　his　eyes；　as　in　the　pale　grey　eyes　of　a
goat；　there　seemed　some　of　that　steady；　hard　fire　of　moonlight
which　has　nothing　to　do　with　the　day。　It　made　her　alert；　and　yet
her　mind　went　out　like　an　extinguished　thing。　She　was　all
senses；　all　her　senses　were　alive。

Then　she　saw　him　on　Sunday；　dressed　up　in　Sunday　clothes；
trying　to　impress　her。　And　he　looked　ridiculous。　She　clung　to
the　ridiculous　effect　of　his　stiff；　Sunday　clothes。

She　was　always　conscious　of　some　unfaithfulness　to　Maggie；　on
Anthony's　score。　Poor　Maggie　stood　apart　as　if　betrayed。　Maggie
and　Anthony　were　enemies　by　instinct。　Ursula　had　to　go　back　to
her　friend　brimming　with　affection　and　a　poignancy　of　pity。
Which　Maggie　received　with　a　little　stiffness。　Then　poetry　and
books　and　learning　took　the　place　of　Anthony；　with　his　goats'
movements　and　his　cold；　gleaming　humour。

While　Ursula　was　at　Belcote；　the　snow　fell。　In　the　morning；　a
covering　of　snow　weighed　on　the　rhododendron　bushes。

〃Shall　we　go　out？〃　said　Maggie。

She　had　lost　some　of　her　leader's　sureness；　and　was　now
tentative；　a　little　in　reserve　from　her　friend。

They　took　the　key　of　the　gate　and　wandered　into　the　park。　It
was　a　white　world　on　which　dark　trees　and　tree　masses　stood
under　a　sky　keen　with　frost。　The　two　girls　went　past　the　hall；
that　was　shuttered　and　silent；　their　footprints　marking　the　snow
on　the　drive。　Down　the　park；　a　long　way　off；　a　man　was　carrying
armfuls　of　hay　across　the　snow。　He　was　a　small；　dark　figure；
like　an　animal　moving　in　its　unawareness。

Ursula　and　Maggie　went　on　exploring；　down　to　a　tinkling；
chilly　brook；　that　had　worn　the　snow　away　in　little　scoops；　and
ran　dark　between。　They　saw　a　robin　glance　its　bright　eyes　and
burst　scarlet　and　grey　into　the　hedge；　then　some　pertly…marked
blue…tits　scuffled。　Meanwhile　the　brook　slid　on　coldly；
chuckling　to　itself。

The　girls　wandered　across　the　snowy　grass　to　where　the
artificial　fish…ponds　lay　under　thin　ice。　There　was　a　big　tree
with　a　thick　trunk　twisted　with　ivy；　that　hung　almost　horizontal
over　the　ponds。　Ursula　climbed　joyfully　into　this　and　sat　amid
bosses　of　bright　ivy　and　dull　berries。　Some　ivy　leaves　were　like
green　spears　held　out；　and　tipped　with　snow。　The　ice　was　seen
beneath　them。

Maggie　took　out　a　book；　and　sitting　lower　down　the　trunk
began　to　read　Coleridge's　〃Christabel〃。　Ursula　half　listened。
She　was　wildly　thrilled。　Then　she　saw　Anthony　ing　across　the
snow；　with　his　confident；　slightly　strutting　stride。　His　face
looked　brown　and　hard　against　the　snow；　smiling　with　a　sort　of
tense　confidence。

〃Hello！〃　she　called　to　him。

A　response　went　over　his　face；　his　head　was　lifted　in　an
answering；　jerking　gesture。

〃Hello！〃　he　said。　〃You're　like　a　bird　in　there。〃

And　Ursula's　laugh　rang　out。　She　answered　to　the　peculiar；
reedy　twang　in　his　penetrating　voice。

She　did　not　think　of　Anthony；　yet　she　lived　in　a　sort　of
connection　with　him；　in　his　world。　One　evening　she　met　him　as
she　was　ing　down　the　lane；　and　they　walked　side　by　side。

〃I　think　it's　so　lovely　here；〃　she　cried。

〃Do　you？〃　he　said。　〃I'm　glad　you　like　it。〃

There　was　a　curious　confidence　in　his　voice。

〃Oh；　I　love　it。　What　more　does　one　want　than　to　live　in　this
beautiful　place；　and　make　things　grow　in　your　garden。　It　is　like
the　Garden　of　Eden。〃

〃Is　it？〃　he　said；　with　a　little　laugh。　〃Yes……well；　it's
not　so　bad〃　he　was　hesitating。　The　pale　gleam　was
strong　in　his　eyes；　he　was　looking　at　her　steadily；　watching
her；　as　an　animal　might。　Something　leaped　in　her　soul。　She　knew
he　was　going　to　suggest　to　her　that　she　should　be　as　he　was。

〃Would　you　like　to　stay　here　with　me？〃　he　asked；
tentatively。

She　blenched　with　fear　and　with　the　intense　sensation　of
proffered　licence　suggested　to　her。

They　had　e　to　the　gate。

〃How？〃　she　asked。　〃You　aren't　alone　here。〃

〃We　could　marry；〃　he　answered；　in　the　strange；
coldly…gleaming　insinuating　tone　that　chilled　the　sunshine　into
moonlight。　All　substantial　things　seemed　transformed。　Shadows
and　dancing　moonlight　were　real；　and　all　cold；　inhuman；　gleaming
sensations。　She　realized　with　something　like　terror　that　she　was
going　to　accept　this。　She　was　going　inevitably　to　accept　him。
His　hand　was　reaching　out　to　the　gate　before　them。　She　stood
still。　His　flesh　was　hard　and　brown　and　final。　She　seemed　to　be
in　the　grip　of　some　insult。

〃I　couldn't；〃　she　answered；　involuntarily。

He　gave　the　same　brief；　neighing　little　laugh；　very　sad　and
bitter　now；　and　slotted　back　the　bar　of　the　gate。　Yet　he　did　not
open。　For　a　moment　they　both　stood　looking　at　the　fire　of　sunset
that　quivered　among　the　purple　twigs　of　the　trees。　She　saw　his
brown；　hard；　well…hewn　face　gleaming　with　anger　and　humiliation
and　submission。　He　was　an　animal　that　knows　that　it　is　subdued。
Her　heart　flamed　with　sensation　of　him；　of　the　fascinating　thing
he　offered　her；　and　with　sorrow；　and　with　an　inconsolable　sense
of　loneliness。　Her　soul　was　an　infant　crying　in　the　night。　He
had　no　soul。　Oh；　and　why　had　she？　He　was　the　cleaner。

She　turned　away；　she　turned　round　from　him；　and　saw　the　east
flushed　strangely　rose；　the　moon　ing　yellow　and　lovely　upon　a
rosy　sky；　above　the　darkening；　bluish　snow。　All　this　so
beautiful；　all　this　so　lovely！　He　did　not　see　it。　He　was　one
with　it。　But　she　saw　it；　and　was　one　with　it。　Her　seeing
separated　them　infinitely。

They　went　on　in　silence　down　the　path；　following　their
different　fates。　The　trees　grew　darker　and　darker；　the　snow　made
only　a　dimness　in　an　unreal　world。　And