the well-beloved--a sketch of a temperament-第34部分

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！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


to　the　island；　'to　ascertain；'　she　added；　more　deliberately；　'not
entirely　for　sentimental　reasons；　what　had　become　of　the　man　with　whom
I　eloped　in　the　first　flush　of　my　young　womanhood；　and　only　missed
marrying　by　my　own　will。'

Pierston　bowed。

'Well；　that　was　how　the　acquaintance　between　the　children　began；　and
their　passionate　attachment　to　each　other。'　　She　detailed　how　Avice　had
induced　her　mother　to　let　her　take　lessons　in　French　of　young　Leverre；
rendering　their　meetings　easy。　　Marcia　had　never　thought　of　hindering
their　intimacy；　for　in　her　recent　years　of　affliction　she　had　acquired
a　new　interest　in　the　name　she　had　refused　to　take　in　her　purse…proud
young　womanhood；　and　it　was　not　until　she　knew　how　determined　Mrs。
Pierston　was　to　make　her　daughter　Jocelyn's　wife　that　she　had　objected
to　her　son's　acquaintance　with　Avice。　　But　it　was　too　late　to　hinder
what　had　been　begun。　　He　had　lately　been　ill；　and　she　had　been
frightened　by　his　not　returning　home　the　night　before。　　The　note　she
had　received　from　him　that　day　had　only　informed　her　that　Avice　and
himself　had　gone　to　be　married　immediatelywhither　she　did　not　know。

'What　do　you　mean　to　do？'　she　asked。

'I　do　nothing：　　there　is　nothing　to　be　done。　。　。　。　　It　is　how　I　served
her　grandmotherone　of　Time's　revenges。'

'Served　her　so　for　me。'

'Yes。　　Now　she　me　for　your　son。'

Marcia　paused　a　long　while　thinking　that　over；　till　arousing　herself
she　resumed：　　'But　can't　we　inquire　which　way　they　went　out　of　the
island；　or　gather　some　particulars　about　them？'

'Ayeyes。　　We　will。'

And　Pierston　found　himself　as　in　a　dream　walking　beside　Marcia　along
the　road　in　their　common　quest。　　He　discovered　that　almost　every　one　of
the　neighbouring　inhabitants　knew　more　about　the　lovers　than　he　did
himself。

At　the　corner　some　men　were　engaged　in　conversation　on　the　occurrence。
It　was　allusive　only；　but　knowing　the　dialect；　Pierston　and　Marcia
gathered　its　import　easily。　　As　soon　as　it　had　got　light　that　morning
one　of　the　boats　was　discovered　missing　from　the　creek　below；　and　when
the　flight　of　the　lovers　was　made　known　it　was　inferred　that　they　were
the　culprits。

Unconsciously　Pierston　turned　in　the　direction　of　the　creek；　without
regarding　whether　Marcia　followed　him；　and　though　it　was　darker　than
when　Avice　and　Leverre　had　descended　in　the　morning　he　pursued　his　way
down　the　incline　till　he　reached　the　water…side。

'Is　that　you；　Jocelyn？'

The　inquiry　came　from　Marcia。　　She　was　behind　him；　about　half…way　down。

'Yes；'　he　said；　noticing　that　it　was　the　first　time　she　had　called　him
by　his　Christian　name。

'I　can't　see　where　you　are；　and　I　am　afraid　to　follow。'

Afraid　to　follow。　　How　strangely　that　altered　his　conception　of　her。
Till　this　moment　she　had　stood　in　his　mind　as　the　imperious；　invincible
Marcia　of　old。　　There　was　a　strange　pathos　in　this　revelation。　　He　went
back　and　felt　for　her　hand。　　'I'll　lead　you　down；'　he　said。　　And　he　did
so。

They　looked　out　upon　the　sea；　and　the　lightship　shining　as　if　it　had
quite　forgotten　all　about　the　fugitives。　　'I　am　so　uneasy；'　said
Marcia。　　'Do　you　think　they　got　safely　to　land？'

'Yes；'　replied　some　one　other　than　Jocelyn。　　It　was　a　boatman　smoking
in　the　shadow　of　the　boathouse。　　He　informed　her　that　they　were　picked
up　by　the　lightship　men；　and　afterwards；　at　their　request；　taken　across
to　the　opposite　shore；　where　they　landed；　proceeding　thence　on　foot　to
the　nearest　railway　station　and　entering　the　train　for　London。　　This
intelligence　had　reached　the　island　about　an　hour　before。

'They'll　be　married　to…morrow　morning！'　said　Marcia。

'So　much　the　better。　　Don't　regret　it；　Marcia。　　He　shall　not　lose　by
it。　　I　have　no　relation　in　the　world　except　some　twentieth　cousins　in
the　isle；　of　whom　her　father　was　one；　and　I'll　take　steps　at　once　to
make　her　a　good　match　for　him。　　As　for　me。　。　。　　I　have　lived　a　day　too
long。'



3。　VIII。　　'ALAS　FOR　THIS　GREY　SHADOW；　ONCE　A　MAN！'

In　the　month　of　November　which　followed　Pierston　was　lying　dangerously
ill　of　a　fever　at　his　house　in　London。

The　funeral　of　the　second　Avice　had　happened　to　be　on　one　of　those
drenching　afternoons　of　the　autumn；　when　the　raw　rain　flies　level　as
the　missiles　of　the　ancient　inhabitants　across　the　beaked　promontory
which　has　formed　the　scene　of　this　narrative；　scarcely　alighting　except
against　the　upright　sides　of　things　sturdy　enough　to　stand　erect。　　One
person　only　followed　the　corpse　into　the　church　as　chief　mourner；
Jocelyn　Pierstonfickle　lover　in　the　brief；　faithful　friend　in　the
long　run。　　No　means　had　been　found　of　communicating　with　Avice　before
the　interment；　though　the　death　had　been　advertised　in　the　local　and
other　papers　in　the　hope　that　it　might　catch　her　eye。

So；　when　the　pathetic　procession　came　out　of　the　church　and　moved　round
into　the　graveyard；　a　hired　vehicle　from　Budmouth　was　seen　coming　at
great　speed　along　the　open　road　from　Top…o'…Hill。　　It　stopped　at　the
churchyard　gate；　and　a　young　man　and　woman　alighted　and　entered；　the
vehicle　waiting。　　They　glided　along　the　path　and　reached　Pierston's
side　just　as　the　body　was　deposited　by　the　grave。

He　did　not　turn　his　head。　　He　knew　it　was　Avice；　with　Henri　Leverreby
this　time；　he　supposed；　her　husband。　　Her　remorseful　grief；　though
silent；　seemed　to　impregnate　the　atmosphere　with　its　heaviness。
Perceiving　that　they　had　not　expected　him　to　be　there　Pierston　edged
back；　and　when　the　service　was　over　he　kept　still　further　aloof；　an　act
of　considerateness　which　she　seemed　to　appreciate。

Thus；　by　his　own　contrivance；　neither　Avice　nor　the　young　man　held
communication　with　Jocelyn　by　word　or　by　sign。　　After　the　burial　they
returned　as　they　had　come。

It　was　supposed　that　his　exposure　that　day　in　the　bleakest　churchyard
in　Wessex；　telling　upon　a　distracted　mental　and　bodily　condition；　had
thrown　Pierston　into　the　chill　and　fever　which　held　him　swaying　for
weeks　between　life　and　death　shortly　after　his　return　to　town。　　When　he
had　passed　the　crisis；　and　began　to　know　again　that　there　was　such　a
state　as　mental　equilibrium　and　physical　calm；　he　heard　a　whispered
conversation　going　on　around　him；　and　the　touch　of　footsteps　on　the
carpet。　　The　light　in　the　chamber　was　so　subdued　that　nothing　around
him　could　be　seen　with　any　distinctness。　　Two　living　figures　were
present；　a　nurse　moving　about　softly；　and　a　visitor。　　He　discerned　that
the　latter　was　feminine；　and　for　the　time　this　was　all。

He　was　recalled　to　his　surroundings　by　a　voice　murmuring　the　inquiry：
'Does　the　light　try　your　eyes？'

The　tones　seemed　familiar：　　they　were　spoken　by　the　woman　who　was
visiting　him。　　He　recollected　them　to　be　Marcia's；　and　everything　that
had　happened　before　he　fell　ill　came　back　to　his　mind。

'Are　you　helping　to　nurse　me；　Marcia？'　he　asked。

'Yes。　　I　have　come　up　to　stay　here　till　you　are　better；　as　you　seem　to
have　no　other　woman　friend　who　cares　whether　you　are　dead　or　alive。　　I
am　living　quite　near。　　I　am　glad　you　have　got　round　the　corner。　　We
have　been　very　anxious。'

'How　good　you　are！。　。　。　　Andhave　you　heard　of　the　others？'

'They　are　married。　　They　have　been　here　to　see　you；　and　are　very　sorry。
She　sat　by　you；　but　you　did　not　know　her。　　She　was　broken　down　when　she
discovered　her　mother's　death；　which　had　never　once　occurred　to　her　as
being　imminent。　　They　have　gone　away　again。　　I　thought　it　best　she
should　leave；　now　that　you　are　out　of　danger。　　Now　you　must　be　quiet
till　I　come　and　talk　again。'

Pierston　was　conscious　of　a　singular　change　in　himself；　which　had　been
revealed　by　this　slight　discourse。　　He　was　no　longer　the　same　man　that
he　had　hitherto　been。　　The　malignant　fever；　or　his　experiences；　or
both；　had　taken　away　something　from　him；　and　put　something　else　in　its
place。

During　the　next　days；　with　further　intellectual　expansion；　he　became
clearly　aware　of　what　this　was。　　The　artistic　sense　had　left　him；　and
he　could　no　longer　attach　a　definite　sentiment　to　images　of　beauty
recalled　from　the　past。　　His　appreciativeness　was　capable　of　exercising
itself　only　on　utilitarian　matters；　and　recollection　of　Avice's　good
qualities　alone　had　any　effect　on　his　mind；　of　her　appearance　none　at
all。

At　first　he　was　appalled；　and　then　he　said；　'Thank　God！'

Marcia；　who；　with　something　of　her　old　absolutism；　came　to　his　house
continually　to　inquire　and　give　orders；　and　to　his　room　to　see　him
every　afternoon；　found　out　for　herself　in　the　course　of　his
convalescence　this　strange　death　of　the　sensuous　side　of　Jocelyn's
nature。　　She　had　said　that　Avice　was　getting　extraordinarily　handsome；
and　that　she　did　not　wonder　her　stepson　lost　his　heart　to　heran
inadvertent　remark　which　she　immediately　regretted；　in　fear　lest　it
should　agitate　him。　　He　merely　answered；　however；　'Yes；　I　suppose　she
is　handsome。　　She's　morea　wise　girl　who　will　make　a　good　housewife　in
time。　。　。　。　　I　wish　you　were　not　handsome；　Marcia。'

'Why？'

'I　don't　quite　know　why。　　Wellit　seems　a　stupid　quality　to　me。　　I
can't　understand　what　it　is　good　for　any　more。'

'OI　as　a　woman　think　there's　good　in　it。'

'Is　there？　　Then　I　have　lost　all　conception　of　it。　　I　don't　know　what
has　happened　to　me。　　I　only　know　I　don't　regret　it。　　Robinson　Crusoe
lost　a　day　in　his　illness：　　I　have　lost　a　faculty；　for　which　loss
Heaven　be　praised！'

There　was　something　pathetic　in　this　announcement；　and　Marcia　sighed　as
she　said；　'Perhaps　when　you　get　strong　it　will　come　back　to　you。'

Pierston　shook　his　head。　　It　then　occurred　to　him　that　never　since　the
reappearance　of　Marcia　had　he　seen　her　in　full　daylight；　or　without　a
bonnet　and　thick　veil；　which　she　always　retained　on　these　frequent
visits；　and　that　he　had　been　unconsciously　regarding　her　as　the　Marcia
of　their　early　time；　a　fancy　which　the　small　change　in　her　voice　well
sustained。　　The　stately　figure；　the　good　colour；　the　classical　profile；
the　rather　large　handsome　nose　and　somewhat　prominent；　regular　teeth；
the　full　dark　eye；　formed　still　the　Marcia　of　his　imagination；　the
queenly　creature　who　had　infatuated　him　when　the　first　Avice　was
despised　and　her　successors　unknown。　　It　was　this　old　idea　which；　in
his　revolt　from　beauty；　had　l