the egoist-第45部分

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that　girl！　It　was　the　way　of　a　man　ten　years　after　marriage。

The　idea　drew　him　to　picture　her　doatingly　in　her　young　matronly
bloom　ten　years　after　marriage：　without　a　touch　of　age；　matronly
wise；　womanly　sweet：　perhaps　with　a　couple　of　little　ones　to　love；
never　having　known　the　love　of　a　man。

To　think　of　a　girl　like　Clara　Middleton　never　having　at
nine…and…twenty；　and　with　two　fair　children！　known　the　love　of　a
man　or　the　loving　of　a　man；　possibly；　became　torture　to　the
Colonel。

For　a　pacification　he　had　to　reconsider　that　she　was　as　yet　only
nineteen　and　unmarried。

But　she　was　engaged；　and　she　was　unloved。　One　might　swear　to　it；
that　she　was　unloved。　And　she　was　not　a　girl　to　be　satisfied　with
a　big　house　and　a　high…nosed　husband。

There　was　a　rapid　alteration　of　the　sad　history　of　Clara　the
unloved　matron　solaced　by　two　little　ones。　A　childless　Clara
tragically　loving　and　beloved　flashed　across　the　dark　glass　of　the
future。

Either　way　her　fate　was　cruel。

Some　astonishment　moved　De　Craye　in　the　contemplation　of　the
distance　he　had　stepped　in　this　morass　of　fancy。　He　distinguished　
the　choice　open　to　him　of　forward　or　back；　and　he　selected
forward。　But　fancy　was　dead：　the　poetry　hovering　about　her　grew
invisible　to　him：　he　stood　in　the　morass；　that　was　all　he　knew；
and　momently　he　plunged　deeper；　and　he　was　aware　of　an　intense
desire　to　see　her　face；　that　he　might　study　her　features　again：　he
understood　no　more。

It　was　the　clouding　of　the　brain　by　the　man's　heart；　which　had
come　to　the　knowledge　that　it　was　caught。

A　certain　measure　of　astonishment　moved　him　still。　It　had　hitherto
been　his　portion　to　do　mischief　to　women　and　avoid　the　vengeance
of　the　sex。　What　was　there　in　Miss　Middleton's　face　and　air　to
ensnare　a　veteran　handsome　man　of　society　numbering　six…and…thirty
years；　nearly　as　many　conquests？　〃Each　bullet　has　got　its
commission。〃　He　was　hit　at　last。　That　accident　effected　by　Mr。
Flitch　had　fired　the　shot。　Clean　through　the　heart。　does　not　tell
us　of　our　misfortune；　till　the　heart　is　asked　to　renew　its　natural
beating。　It　fell　into　the　condition　of　the　porcelain　vase　over　a
thought　of　Miss　Middleton　standing　above　his　prostrate　form　on　the
road；　and　walking　beside　him　to　the　Hall。　Her　words？　What　have
they　been？　She　had　not　uttered　words；　she　had　shed　meanings。　He
did　not　for　an　instant　conceive　that　he　had　charmed　her：　the　charm
she　had　cast　on　him　was　too　thrilling　for　coxcombry　to　lift　a
head；　still　she　had　enjoyed　his　prattle。　In　return　for　her　touch
upon　the　Irish　fountain　in　him；　he　had　manifestly　given　her　relief
And　could　not　one　see　that　so　sprightly　a　girl　would　soon　be
deadened　by　a　man　like　Willoughby？　Deadened　she　was：　she　had　not
responded　to　a　compliment　on　her　approaching　marriage。　An　allusion
to　it　killed　her　smiling。　The　case　of　Mr。　Flitch；　with　the　half
wager　about　his　reinstation　in　the　service　of　the　Hall；　was
conclusive　evidence　of　her　opinion　of　Willoughby。

It　became　again　necessary　that　he　should　abuse　Willoughby　for　his
folly。　Why　was　the　man　worrying　her？　In　some　way　he　was　worrying
her。

What　if　Willoughby　as　well　as　Miss　Middleton　wished　to　be　quit　of
the　engagement？　。。。

For　just　a　second；　the　handsome；　woman…flattered　officer　proved
his　man's　heart　more　whole　than　he　supposed　it。　That　great　organ；
instead　of　leaping　at　the　thought；　suffered　a　check。

Bear　in　mind　that　his　heart　was　not　merely　man's；　it　was　a
conqueror's。　He　was　of　the　race　of　amorous　heroes　who　glory　in
pursuing；　overtaking；　subduing：　wresting　the　prize　from　a　rival；
having　her　ripe　from　exquisitely　feminine　inward　conflicts；　
plucking　her　out　of　resistance　in　good　old　primitive　fashion。　You
win　the　creature　in　her　delicious　flutterings。　He　liked　her　thus；
in　cooler　blood；　because　of　society's　admiration　of　the　capturer；
and　somewhat　because　of　the　strife；　which　always　enhances　the
value　of　a　prize；　and　refreshes　our　vanity　in　recollection。

Moreover；　he　had　been　matched　against　Willoughby：　the　circumstance
had　occurred　two　or　three　times。　He　could　name　a　lady　he　had　won；
a　lady　he　had　lost。　Willoughby's　large　fortune　and　grandeur　of
style　had　given　him　advantages　at　the　start。　But　the　start　often
means　the　racewith　women；　and　a　bit　of　luck。

The　gentle　check　upon　the　galloping　heart　of　Colonel　De　Craye
endured　no　longer　than　a　seconda　simple　side…glance　in　a
headlong　pace。　Clara's　enchantingness　for　a　temperament　like　his；
which　is　to　say；　for　him　specially；　in　part　through　the　testimony
her　conquest　of　himself　presented　as　to　her　power　of　sway　over　the
universal　heart　known　as　man's；　assured　him　she　was　worth　winning
even　from　a　hand　that　dropped　her。

He　had　now　a　double　reason　for　exclaiming　at　the　folly　of
Willoughby。　Willoughby's　treatment　of　her　showed　either　temper　or
weariness。　Vanity　and　judgement　led　De　Craye　to　guess　the　former。
Regarding　her　sentiments　for　Willoughby；　he　had　come　to　his　own
conclusion。　The　certainty　of　it　caused　him　to　assume　that　he
possessed　an　absolute　knowledge　of　her　character：　she　was　an
angel；　born　supple；　she　was　a　heavenly　soul；　with　half　a　dozen　of
the　tricks　of　earth。　Skittish　filly　was　among　his　phrases；　but　she
had　a　bearing　and　a　gaze　that　forbade　the　dip　in　the　common　gutter
for　wherewithal　to　paint　the　creature　she　was。

Now；　then；　to　see　whether　he　was　wrong　for　the　first　time　in　his
life！　If　not　wrong；　he　had　a　chance。

There　could　be　nothing　dishonourable　in　rescuing　a　girl　from　an
engagement　she　detested。　An　attempt　to　think　it　a　service　to
Willoughby　faded　midway。　De　Craye　dismissed　that　chicanery。　It
would　be　a　service　to　Willoughby　in　the　end；　without　question。
There　was　that　to　soothe　his　manly　honour。　Meanwhile　he　had　to
face　the　thought　of　Willoughby　as　an　antagonist；　and　the　world
looking　heavy　on　his　honour　as　a　friend。

Such　considerations　drew　him　tenderly　close　to　Miss　Middleton。　It
must；　however；　be　confessed　that　the　mental　ardour　of　Colonel　De
Craye　had　been　a　little　sobered　by　his　glance　at　the　possibility
of　both　of　the　couple　being　of　one　mind　on　the　subject　of　their
betrothal。　Desirable　as　it　was　that　they　should　be　united　in
disagreeing；　it　reduced　the　romance　to　platitude；　and　the　third
person　in　the　drama　to　the　appearance　of　a　stick。　No　man　likes　to
play　that　part。　Memoirs　of　the　favourites　of　Goddesses；　if　we　had
them；　would　confirm　it　of　men's　tastes　in　this　respect；　though　the
divinest　be　the　prize。　We　behold　what　part　they　played。

De　Craye　chanced　to　be　crossing　the　hall　from　the　laboratory　to
the　stables　when　Clara　shut　the　library…door　behind　her。　He　said
something　whimsical；　and　did　not　stop；　nor　did　he　look　twice　at
the　face　he　had　been　longing　for。

What　he　had　seen　made　him　fear　there　would　be　no　ride　out　with　her
that　day。　Their　next　meeting　reassured　him；　she　was　dressed　in　her
riding…habit；　and　wore　a　countenance　resolutely　cheerful。　He
gave　himself　the　word　of　command　to　take　his　tone　from　her。

He　was　of　a　nature　as　quick　as　Clara's。　Experience　pushed　him
farther　than　she　could　go　in　fancy；　but　experience　laid　a　sobering
finger　on　his　practical　steps；　and　bade　them　hang　upon　her
initiative。　She　talked　little。　Young　Crossjay　cantering　ahead　was
her　favourite　subject。　She　was　very　much　changed　since　the　early
morning：　his　liveliness；　essayed　by　him　at　a　hazard；　was
unsuccessful；　grave　English　pleased　her　best。　The　descent　from
that　was　naturally　to　melancholy。　She　mentioned　a　regret　she　had
that　the　Veil　was　interdicted　to　women　in　Protestant　countries。　De
Craye　was　fortunately　silent；　he　could　think　of　no　other　veil　than
the　Moslem；　and　when　her　meaning　struck　his　witless　head；　he
admitted　to　himself　that　devout　attendance　on　a　young　lady's　mind
stupefies　man's　intelligence。　Half　an　hour　later；　he　was　as
foolish　in　supposing　it　a　confidence。　He　was　again　saved　by
silence。

In　Aspenwell　village　she　drew　a　letter　from　her　bosom　and　called
to　Crossjay　to　post　it。　The　boy　sang　out；　〃Miss　Lucy　Darleton！
What　a　nice　name！〃

Clara　did　not　show　that　the　name　betrayed　anything。

She　said　to　De　Craye。　〃It　proves　he　should　not　be　here　thinking　of
nice　names。　〃

Her　companion　replied；　〃You　may　be　right。〃　He　added；　to　avoid
feeling　too　subservient：　〃Boys　will。〃

〃Not　if　they　have　stern　masters　to　teach　them　their　daily　lessons；
and　some　of　the　lessons　of　existence。〃

〃Vernon　Whitford　is　not　stern　enough？〃

〃Mr。　Whitford　has　to　contend　with　other　influences　here。〃

〃With　Willoughby？〃

〃Not　with　Willoughby。〃

He　understood　her。　She　touched　the　delicate　indication　firmly。
The　man's；　heart　respected　her　for　it；　not　many　girls　could　be　so
thoughtful　or　dare　to　be　so　direct；　he　saw　that　she　had　become
deeply　serious；　and　he　felt　her　love　of　the　boy　to　be　maternal；
past　maiden　sentiment。

By　this　light　of　her　seriousness；　the　posting　of　her　letter　in　a
distant　village；　not　entrusting　it　to　the　Hall　post…box；　might
have　import；　not　that　she　would　apprehend　the　violation　of　her
private　correspondence；　but　we　like　to　see　our　letter　of　weighty
meaning　pass　into　the　mouth　of　the　public　box。

Consequently　this　letter　was　important。　It　was　to　suppose　a
sequency　in　the　conduct　of　a　variable　damsel。　Coupled　with　her
remark　about　the　Veil；　and　with　other　things；　not　words；　breathing
from　her　（which　were　the　breath　of　her　condition）；　it　was　not
unreasonably　to　be　supposed。　She　might　even　be　a　very　consistent
person。　If　one　only　had　the　key　of　her！

She　spoke　once　of　an　immediate　visit　to　London；　supposing　that　she
could　induce　her　father　to　go。　De　Craye　remembered　the　occurrence
in　the　Hall　at　night；　and　her　aspect　of　distress。

They　raced　along　Aspenwell　Common　to　the　ford；　shallow；　to　the
chagrin　of　young　Crossjay；　between　whom　and　themselves　they　left　a
fitting　space　for　his　rapture　in　leading　his　pony　to　splash　up　and
down；　lord　of　the　stream。

Swiftness　of　motion　so　strikes　the　blood　on　the　brain　that　our
thoughts　are　lightnings；　the　heart　is　master　of　them。

De　Craye　was　heated　by　his　gallop　to　venture　on　the　angling
question：　〃Am　I　to　hear　the　names　of　the　bridesmaids？〃

The　pace　had　nerved　Clara　to　speak　to　it　sharply：　〃There　is　no
need。〃

〃Have　I　no