david elginbrod-第71部分

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〃I　am　in　perfect　health。〃

〃Then　I　need　not　mind　asking　you　to　wait　for　me　till　I　come　out　of
this　house。　　There　is　typhus　in　it。〃

〃I　will　wait　with　pleasure。　　I　will　go　with　you　if　I　can　be　of　any
use。〃

〃There　is　no　occasion。　　It　is　not　your　business　this　time。〃

So　saying；　Falconer　opened　the　door；　and　walked　in。

Said　Hugh　to　himself：　〃I　must　tell　this　man　the　whole　story；　and
with　it　all　my　own。〃

In　a　few　minutes　Falconer　rejoined　him；　looking　solemn；　but　with　a
kind　of　relieved　expression　on　his　face。

〃The　poor　fellow　is　gone；〃　said　he。

〃Ah！〃

〃What　a　thing　it　must　be；　Mr。　Sutherland；　for　a　man　to　break　out　of
the　choke…damp　of　a　typhus　fever　into　the　clear　air　of　the　life
beyond！〃

〃Yes；〃　said　Hugh；　adding；　after　a　slight　hesitation；　〃if　he　be　at
all　prepared　for　the　change。〃

〃Where　a　change　belongs　to　the　natural　order　of　things；〃　said
Falconer；　〃and　arrives　inevitably　at　some　hour；　there　must　always　be
more　or　less　preparedness　for　it。　　Besides；　I　think　a　man　is
generally　prepared　for　a　breath　of　fresh　air。〃

Hugh　did　not　reply；　for　he　felt　that　he　did　not　fully　comprehend　his
new　acquaintance。　　But　he　had　a　strong　suspicion　that　it　was　because
he　moved　in　a　higher　region　than　himself。

〃If　you　will　still　accompany　me；〃　resumed　Falconer；　who　had　not　yet
adverted　to　Hugh's　object　in　seeking　his　acquaintance；　〃you　will；　I
think；　be　soon　compelled　to　believe　that；　at　whatever　time　death　may
arrive；　or　in　whatever　condition　the　man　may　be　at　the　time；　it
comes　as　the　best　and　only　good　that　can　at　that　moment　reach　him。
We　are；　perhaps；　too　much　in　the　habit　of　thinking　of　death　as　the
culmination　of　disease；　which；　regarded　only　in　itself；　is　an　evil；
and　a　terrible　evil。　　But　I　think　rather　of　death　as　the　first　pulse
of　the　new　strength；　shaking　itself　free　from　the　old　mouldy
remnants　of　earth…garments；　that　it　may　begin　in　freedom　the　new
life　that　grows　out　of　the　old。　　The　caterpillar　dies　into　the
butterfly。　　Who　knows　but　disease　may　be　the　coming；　the　keener
life；　breaking　into　this；　and　beginning　to　destroy　like　fire　the
inferior　modes　or　garments　of　the　present？　　And　then　disease　would
be　but　the　sign　of　the　salvation　of　fire；　of　the　agony　of　the
greater　life　to　lift　us　to　itself；　out　of　that　wherein　we　are
failing　and　sinning。　　And　so　we　praise　the　consuming　fire　of　life。〃

〃But　surely　all　cannot　fare　alike　in　the　new　life。〃

〃Far　from　it。　　According　to　the　condition。　　But　what　would　be　hell
to　one；　will　be　quietness；　and　hope；　and　progress　to　another；
because　he　has　left　worse　behind　him；　and　in　this　the　life　asserts
itself；　and　is。But　perhaps　you　are　not　interested　in　such
subjects；　Mr。　Sutherland；　and　I　weary　you。〃

〃If　I　have　not　been　interested　in　them　hitherto；　I　am　ready　to
become　so　now。　　Let　me　go　with　you。〃

〃With　pleasure。〃

As　I　have　attempted　to　tell　a　great　deal　about　Robert　Falconer　and
his　pursuits　elsewhere；　I　will　not　here　relate　the　particulars　of
their　walk　through　some　of　the　most　wretched　parts　of　London。
Suffice　it　to　say　that；　if　Hugh；　as　he　walked　home；　was　not　yet
prepared　to　receive　and　understand　the　half　of　what　Falconer　had
said　about　death；　and　had　not　yet　that　faith　in　God　that　gives　as
perfect　a　peace　for　the　future　of　our　brothers　and　sisters；　who；
alas！　have　as　yet　been　fed　with　husks；　as　for　that　of　ourselves；　who
have　eaten　bread　of　the　finest　of　the　wheat；　and　have　been　but　a
little　thankful；he　yet　felt　at　least　that　it　was　a　blessed　thing
that　these　men　and　women　would　all　diemust　all　die。　　That　spectre
from　which　men　shrink；　as　if　it　would　take　from　them　the　last
shivering　remnant　of　existence；　he　turned　to　for　some　consolation
even　for　them。　　He　was　prepared　to　believe　that　they　could　not　be
going　to　worse　in　the　end；　though　some　of　the　rich　and　respectable
and　educated　might　have　to　receive　their　evil　things　first　in　the
other　world；　and　he　was　ready　to　understand　that　great　saying　of
Schillerfull　of　a　faith　evident　enough　to　him　who　can　look　far
enough　into　the　saying：

〃Death　cannot　be　an　evil；　for　it　is　universal。〃




CHAPTER　VIII。

EUPHRA。

Samson。　　O　that　torment　should　not　be　confined
　　　　　　　　To　the　body's　wounds　and　sores；

　　　　　　　　But　must　secret　passage　find
　　　　　　　　To　the　inmost　mind。

　　　　　　　　Dire　inflammation；　which　no　cooling　herb
　　　　　　　　Or　medicinal　liquor　can　asswage；
　　　　　　　　Nor　breath　of　vernal　air　from　snowy　Alp。
　　　　　　　　Sleep　hath　forsook　and　given　me　o'er
　　　　　　　　To　death's　benumming　opium　as　my　only　cure；
　　　　　　　　Thence　faintings；　swoonings　of　despair；
　　　　　　　　And　sense　of　heaven's　desertion。

MILTON。Samson　Agonistes。


Hitherto　I　have　chiefly　followed　the　history　of　my　hero；　if　hero　in
any　sense　he　can　yet　be　called。　　Now　I　must　leave　him　for　a　while；
and　take　up　the　story　of　the　rest　of　the　few　persons　concerned　in　my
tale。

Lady　Emily　had　gone　to　Madeira；　and　Mr。　Arnold　had　followed。　　Mrs。
Elton　and　Harry；　and　Margaret；　of　course；　had　gone　to　London。
Euphra　was　left　alone　at　Arnstead。

A　great　alteration　had　taken　place　in　this　strange　girl。　　The
servants　were　positively　afraid　of　her　now；　from　the　butler　down　to
the　kitchen…maid。　　She　used　to　go　into　violent　fits　of　passion；　in
which　the　mere　flash　of　her　eyes　was　overpowering。　　These　outbreaks
would　be　followed　almost　instantaneously　by　seasons　of　the　deepest
dejection；　in　which　she　would　confine　herself　to　her　room　for　hours；
or；　lame　as　she　was；　wander　about　the　house　and　the　Ghost's　Walk；
herself　pale　as　a　ghost；　and　looking　meagre　and　wretched。

Also；　she　became　subject　to　frequent　fainting　fits；　the　first　of
which　took　place　the　night　before　Hugh's　departure；　after　she　had
returned　to　the　house　from　her　interview　with　him　in　the　Ghost's
Walk。　She　was　evidently　miserable。

For　this　misery　we　know　that　there　were　very　sufficient　reasons；
without　taking　into　account　the　fact　that　she　had　no　one　to
fascinate　now。　　Her　continued　lameness；　which　her　restlessness
aggravated；　likewise　gave　her　great　cause　for　anxiety。　　But　I
presume　that；　even　during　the　early　part　of　her　confinement；　her
mind　had　been　thrown　back　upon　itself；　in　that　consciousness　which
often　arises　in　loneliness　and　suffering；　and　that　even　then　she　had
begun　to　feel　that　her　own　self　was　a　worse　tyrant　than　the　count；
and　made　her　a　more　wretched　slave　than　any　exercise　of　his　unlawful
power　could　make　her。

Some　natures　will　endure　an　immense　amount　of　misery　before　they
feel　compelled　to　look　there　for　help；　whence　all　help　and　healing
comes。　　They　cannot　believe　that　there　is　verily　an　unseen
mysterious　power；　till　the　world　and　all　that　is　in　it　has　vanished
in　the　smoke　of　despair；　till　cause　and　effect　is　nothing　to　the
intellect；　and　possible　glories　have　faded　from　the　imagination；
then；　deprived　of　all　that　made　life　pleasant　or　hopeful；　the
immortal　essence；　lonely　and　wretched　and　unable　to　cease；　looks　up
with　its　now　unfettered　and　wakened　instinct；　to　the　source　of　its
own　lifeto　the　possible　God　who；　notwithstanding　all　the
improbabilities　of　his　existence；　may　yet　perhaps　be；　and　may　yet
perhaps　hear　his　wretched　creature　that　calls。　　In　this　loneliness
of　despair；　life　must　find　The　Life；　for　joy　is　gone；　and　life　is
all　that　is　left：　it　is　compelled　to　seek　its　source；　its　root；　its
eternal　life。　　This　alone　remains　as　a　possible　thing。　　Strange
condition　of　despair　into　which　the　Spirit　of　God　drives　a　mana
condition　in　which　the　Best　alone　is　the　Possible！

Other　simpler　natures　look　up　at　once。　　Even　before　the　first　pang
has　passed　away；　as　by　a　holy　instinct　of　celestial　childhood；　they
lift　their　eyes　to　the　heavens　whence　cometh　their　aid。　　Of　this
class　Euphra　was　not。　　She　belonged　to　the　former。　　And　yet　even　she
had　begun　to　look　upward；　for　the　waters　had　closed　above　her　head。
She　betook　herself　to　the　one　man　of　whom　she　had　heard　as　knowing
about　God。　She　wrote；　but　no　answer　came。　　Days　and　days　passed
away；　and　there　was　no　reply。

〃Ah！　just　so！〃　she　said；　in　bitterness。　〃And　if　I　cried　to　God　for
ever；　I　should　hear　no　word　of　reply。　　If　he　be；　he　sits　apart；　and
leaves　the　weak　to　be　the　prey　of　the　bad。　　What　cares　he？〃

Yet；　as　she　spoke；　she　rose；　and；　by　a　sudden　impulse；　threw　herself
on　the　floor；　and　cried　for　the　first　time：

〃O　God；　help　me！〃

Was　there　voice　or　hearing？

She　rose　at　least　with　a　little　hope；　and　with　the　feeling　that　if
she　could　cry　to　him；　it　might　be　that　he　could　listen　to　her。　　It
seemed　natural　to　pray；　it　seemed　to　come　of　itself：　that　could　not
be　except　it　was　first　natural　for　God　to　hear。　　The　foundation　of
her　own　action　must　be　in　him　who　made　her；　for　her　call　could　be
only　a　response　after　all。

The　time　passed　wearily　by。　　Dim；　slow　November　days　came　on；　with
the　fall　of　the　last　brown　shred　of　those　clouds　of　living　green
that　had　floated　betwixt　earth　and　heaven。　　Through　the　bare　boughs
of　the　overarching　avenue　of　the　Ghost's　Walk；　themselves　living
skeletons；　she　could　now　look　straight　up　to　the　blue　sky；　which　had
been　there　all　the　time。　　And　she　had　begun　to　look　up　to　a　higher
heaven；　through　the　bare　skeleton　shapes　of　life；　for　the　foliage　of
joy　had　wholly　vanishedshall　we　say　in　order　that　the　children　of
the　spring　might　come？certainly　in　order　first　that　the　blue　sky
of　a　deeper　peace　might　reflect　itself　in　the　hitherto　darkened
waters　of　her　soul。

Perhaps　some　of　my　readers　may　think　that　she　had　enough　to　repent
of　to　keep　her　from　weariness。　　She　had　plenty　to　repent　of；　no
doubt；　but　repentance；　between　the　paroxysms　of　its　bitterness；　is　a
very　dreary　and　November…like　state　of　the　spiritual　weather。　　For
its　foggy　mornings　and　cheerless　noons　cannot　believe　in　the　sun　of
spring；　soon　to　ripen　into　the　sun　of　summer；　and　its　best　time　is
the　night；　that　shuts　out　the　world　and　weeps　its　fill　of　slow
tears。　　But　she　was　not　altogether　so　blameworthy　as　she　may　have
appeared。　　Her　affectations　had　not　been　altogether　false。　　She
valued；　and　in　a　measure　possessed；　the　feelings　for　which　she
sought　credit。　　She　had　a　genuine　enjoyment　of　nature；　though　after
a　sensuous；　Keats…like　fashion；　not　a　Wordsworthian。　　It　was　th