the well-beloved--a sketch of a temperament-第18部分

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seeking　of　the　Well…Beloved　was；　then；　of　the　nature　of　a　knife　which
could　cut　two　ways。　　To　be　the　seeker　was　one　thing：　　to　be　one　of　the
corpses　from　which　the　ideal　inhabitant　had　departed　was　another；　and
this　was　what　he　had　become　now；　in　the　mockery　of　new　Days。

The　startling　parallel　in　the　idiosyncracies　of　Avice　and　himself
evinced　by　the　elusiveness　of　the　Beloved　with　her　as　with　himmeant
probably　that　there　had　been　some　remote　ancestor　common　to　both
families；　from　whom　the　trait　had　latently　descended　and　recrudesced。
But　the　result　was　none　the　less　disconcerting。

Drawing　near　his　own　gate　he　smelt　tobacco；　and　could　discern　two
figures　in　the　side　lane　leading　past　Avice's　door。　　They　did　not；
however；　enter　her　house；　but　strolled　onward　to　the　narrow　pass
conducting　to　Red…King　Castle　and　the　sea。　　He　was　in　momentary
heaviness　at　the　thought　that　they　might　be　Avice　with　a　worthless
lover；　but　a　faintly　argumentative　tone　from　the　man　informed　him　that
they　were　the　same　married　couple　going　homeward　whom　he　had
encountered　on　a　previous　occasion。

The　next　day　he　gave　the　servants　a　half…holiday　to　get　the　pretty
Avice　into　the　castle　again　for　a　few　hours；　the　better　to　observe　her。
While　she　was　pulling　down　the　blinds　at　sunset　a　whistle　of　peculiar
quality　came　from　some　point　on　the　cliffs　outside　the　lawn。　　He
observed　that　her　colour　rose　slightly；　though　she　bustled　about　as　if
she　had　noticed　nothing。

Pierston　suddenly　suspected　that　she　had　not　only　fifteen　past　admirers
but　a　current　one。　　Still；　he　might　be　mistaken。　　Stimulated　now　by
ancient　memories　and　present　tenderness　to　use　every　effort　to　make　her
his　wife；　despite　her　conventional　unfitness；　he　strung　himself　up　to
sift　this　mystery。　　If　he　could　only　win　herand　how　could　a　country
girl　refuse　such　an　opportunity？he　could　pack　her　off　to　school　for
two　or　three　years；　marry　her；　enlarge　her　mind　by　a　little　travel；　and
take　his　chance　of　the　rest。　　As　to　her　want　of　ardour　for　himso
sadly　in　contrast　with　her　sainted　mother's　affectiona　man　twenty
years　older　than　his　bride　could　expect　no　better；　and　he　would　be　well
content　to　put　up　with　it　in　the　pleasure　of　possessing　one　in　whom
seemed　to　linger　as　an　aroma　all　the　charm　of　his　youth　and　his　early
home。



2。　IX。　　JUXTAPOSITIONS

It　was　a　sad　and　leaden　afternoon；　and　Pierston　paced　up　the　long；
steep　pass　or　street　of　the　Wells。　　On　either　side　of　the　road　young
girls　stood　with　pitchers　at　the　fountains　which　bubbled　there；　and
behind　the　houses　forming　the　propylaea　of　the　rock　rose　the　massive
forehead　of　the　Islecrested　at　this　part　with　its　enormous　ramparts
as　with　a　mural　crown。

As　you　approach　the　upper　end　of　the　street　all　progress　seems　about　to
be　checked　by　the　almost　vertical　face　of　the　escarpment。　　Into　it　your
track　apparently　runs　point…blank：　　a　confronting　mass　which；　if　it
were　to　slip　down；　would　overwhelm　the　whole　town。　　But　in　a　moment　you
find　that　the　road；　the　old　Roman　highway　into　the　peninsula；　turns　at
a　sharp　angle　when　it　reaches　the　base　of　the　scarp；　and　ascends　in　the
stiffest　of　inclines　to　the　right。　　To　the　left　there　is　also　another
ascending　road；　modern；　almost　as　steep　as　the　first；　and　perfectly
straight。　　This　is　the　road　to　the　forts。

Pierston　arrived　at　the　forking　of　the　ways；　and　paused　for　breath。
Before　turning　to　the　right；　his　proper　and　picturesque　course；　he
looked　up　the　uninteresting　left　road　to　the　fortifications。　　It　was
new；　long；　white；　regular；　tapering　to　a　vanishing　point；　like　a　lesson
in　perspective。　　About　a　quarter　of　the　way　up　a　girl　was　resting
beside　a　basket　of　white　linen：　　and　by　the　shape　of　her　hat　and　the
nature　of　her　burden　he　recognized　her。

She　did　not　see　him；　and　abandoning　the　right…hand　course　he　slowly
ascended　the　incline　she　had　taken。　　He　observed　that　her　attention　was
absorbed　by　something　aloft。　　He　followed　the　direction　of　her　gaze。
Above　them　towered　the　green…grey　mountain　of　grassy　stone；　here
levelled　at　the　top　by　military　art。　　The　skyline　was　broken　every　now
and　then　by　a　little　peg…like　objecta　sentry…box；　and　near　one　of
these　a　small　red　spot　kept　creeping　backwards　and　forwards
monotonously　against　the　heavy　sky。

Then　he　divined　that　she　had　a　soldier…lover。

She　turned　her　head；　saw　him；　and　took　up　her　clothes…basket　to
continue　the　ascent。　　The　steepness　was　such　that　to　climb　it
unencumbered　was　a　breathless　business；　the　linen　made　her　task　a
cruelty　to　her。　　'You'll　never　get　to　the　forts　with　that　weight；'　he
said。　　'Give　it　to　me。'

But　she　would　not；　and　he　stood　still；　watching　her　as　she　panted　up
the　way；　for　the　moment　an　irradiated　being；　the　epitome　of　a　whole
sex：　　by　the　beams　of　his　own　infatuation

　　　　　'。　。　。　。　。　。　。　robed　in　such　exceeding　glory
　　　　　　That　he　beheld　her　not；'

beheld　her　not　as　she　really　was；　as　she　was　even　to　himself　sometimes。
But　to　the　soldier　what　was　she？　　Smaller　and　smaller　she　waned　up　the
rigid　mathematical　road；　still　gazing　at　the　soldier　aloft；　as　Pierston
gazed　at　her。　　He　could　just　discern　sentinels　springing　up　at　the
different　coigns　of　vantage　that　she　passed；　but　seeing　who　she　was
they　did　not　intercept　her；　and　presently　she　crossed　the　drawbridge
over　the　enormous　chasm　surrounding　the　forts；　passed　the　sentries
there　also；　and　disappeared　through　the　arch　into　the　interior。
Pierston　could　not　see　the　sentry　now；　and　there　occurred　to　him　the
hateful　idea　that　this　scarlet　rival　was　meeting　and　talking　freely　to
her；　the　unprotected　orphan　girl　of　his　sweet　original　Avice；　perhaps；
relieved　of　duty；　escorting　her　across　the　interior；　carrying　her
basket；　her　tender　body　encircled　by　his　arm。

'What　the　devil　are　you　staring　at；　as　if　you　were　in　a　trance？'

Pierston　turned　his　head：　　and　there　stood　his　old　friend　Somersstill
looking　the　long…leased　bachelor　that　he　was。

'I　might　say　what　the　devil　do　you　do　here？　if　I　weren't　so　glad　to　see
you。'

Somers　said　that　he　had　come　to　see　what　was　detaining　his　friend　in
such　an　out…of…the…way　place　at　that　time　of　year；　and　incidentally　to
get　some　fresh　air　into　his　own　lungs。　　Pierston　made　him　welcome；　and
they　went　towards　Sylvania　Castle。

'You　were　staring；　as　far　as　I　could　see；　at　a　pretty　little
washerwoman　with　a　basket　of　clothes？'　resumed　the　painter。

'Yes；　it　was　that　to　you；　but　not　to　me。　　Behind　the　mere　pretty
island…girl　（to　the　world）　is；　in　my　eye；　the　Idea；　in　Platonic
phraseologythe　essence　and　epitome　of　all　that　is　desirable　in　this
existence。　。　。　。　　I　am　under　a　doom；　Somers。　　Yes；　I　am　under　a　doom。
To　have　been　always　following　a　phantom　whom　I　saw　in　woman　after　woman
while　she　was　at　a　distance；　but　vanishing　away　on　close　approach；　was
bad　enough；　but　now　the　terrible　thing　is　that　the　phantom　does　NOT
vanish；　but　stays　to　tantalize　me　even　when　I　am　near　enough　to　see
what　it　is！　　That　girl　holds　me；　THOUGH　my　eyes　are　open；　and　THOUGH　I
see　that　I　am　a　fool！'

Somers　regarded　the　visionary　look　of　his　friend；　which　rather
intensified　than　decreased　as　his　years　wore　on；　but　made　no　further
remark。　　When　they　reached　the　castle　Somers　gazed　round　upon　the
scenery；　and　Pierston；　signifying　the　quaint　little　Elizabethan
cottage；　said：　　'That's　where　she　lives。'

'What　a　romantic　place！and　this　island　altogether。　　A　man　might　love
a　scarecrow　or　turnip…lantern　here。'

'But　a　woman　mightn't。　　Scenery　doesn't　impress　them；　though　they
pretend　it　does。　　This　girl　is　as　fickle　as'

'You　once　were。'

'Exactlyfrom　your　point　of　view。　　She　has　told　me　socandidly。　　And
it　hits　me　hard。'

Somers　stood　still　in　sudden　thought。　　'Wellthat　IS　a　strange　turning
of　the　tables！'　he　said。　　'But　you　wouldn't　really　marry　her；
Pierston？'

'I　wouldto…morrow。　　Why　shouldn't　I？　　What　are　fame　and　name　and
society　to　mea　descendant　of　wreckers　and　smugglers；　like　her。
Besides；　I　know　what　she's　made　of；　my　boy；　to　her　innermost　fibre；　I
know　the　perfect　and　pure　quarry　she　was　dug　from：　　and　that　gives　a
man　confidence。'

'Then　you'll　win。'


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　*　　　　　　　　　　*


While　they　were　sitting　after　dinner　that　evening　their　quiet　discourse
was　interrupted　by　the　long　low　whistle　from　the　cliffs　without。
Somers　took　no　notice；　but　Pierston　marked　it。　　That　whistle　always
occurred　at　the　same　time　in　the　evening　when　Avice　was　helping　in　the
house。　　He　excused　himself　for　a　moment　to　his　visitor　and　went　out
upon　the　dark　lawn。　　A　crunching　of　feet　upon　the　gravel　mixed　in　with
the　articulation　of　the　seasteps　light　as　if　they　were　winged。　　And
he　supposed；　two　minutes　later；　that　the　mouth　of　some　hulking　fellow
was　upon　hers；　which　he　himself　hardly　ventured　to　look　at；　so　touching
was　its　young　beauty。

Hearing　people　aboutamong　others　the　before…mentioned　married　couple
quarrelling；　the　woman's　tones　having　a　kinship　to　Avice's　ownhe
returned　to　the　house。　　Next　day　Somers　roamed　abroad　to　look　for
scenery　for　a　marine　painting；　and；　going　out　to　seek　him；　Pierston　met
Avice。

'So　you　have　a　lover；　my　lady！'　he　said　severely。　　She　admitted　that　it
was　the　fact。　　'You　won't　stick　to　him；'　he　continued。

'I　think　I　may　to　THIS　one；'　said　she；　in　a　meaning　tone　that　he　failed
to　fathom　then。　　'He　deserted　me　once；　but　he　won't　again。'

'I　suppose　he's　a　wonderful　sort　of　fellow？'

'He's　good　enough　for　me。'

'So　handsome；　no　doubt。'

'Handsome　enough　for　me。'

'So　refined　and　respectable。'

'Refined　and　respectable　enough　for　me。'

He　could　not　disturb　her　equanimity；　and　let　her　pass。　　The　next　day
was　Sunday；　and　Somers　having　chosen　his　view　at　the　other　end　of　the
island；　Pierston　determined　in　the　afternoon　to　see　Avice's　lover。　　He
found　that　she　had　left　her　cottage　stronghold；　and　went　on　towards　the
lighthouses　at　the　Beal。　　Turning　back　when　he　had　reached　the　nearest；
he　saw　on　the　lonely　road　between　the　quarries　a　young　man　evidently
connected　with　the　stone　trade；　with　Avice　the　Second　upon　his　arm。

She　looked　prettily　guilty　and　blushed　a　little　under　his　glance。　　The
man's　was　one　of　the　typical　island　physiognomieshis