the captives-第102部分

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；　then　she　used　to　be。

Nevertheless　all　the　village　awaited；　with　deep　interest；　for　what　they　felt　would　be　a　very　moving　climax。　The　young　man　was　〃fey。〃　God　had　set　His　mark　upon　him；　and　nothing　that　any　human　being　could　do　would　save　him。　In　old　days　they　would　have　tried　to　come　near　him　and　touch　him　to　snatch　some　virtue　from　the　contact。　They　did　not　do　that；　but　they　felt　when　they　had　spoken　to　him　that　they　had　received　some　merit　or　advantage。　The　new　parson　came　to　call　upon　Martin　and　Maggie；　but　he　got　very　little　from　his　visit。

〃Poor　fellow；〃　he　said　to　his　wife　on　his　return。　〃His　days　are　numbered；　I　fear。〃

To　every　one　it　was　as　though　Martin　and　Maggie　were　enclosed　in　some　world　of　their　own。　No　one　could　come　near　them；　no　one　could　tell　of　what　they　were　really　thinking；　of　their　hopes　or　fears；　past　or　future。

〃Only；〃　as　Mrs。　Bolitho　said　to　her　husband；　〃one　thing's　certain；　she　do　love　'im　with　all　her　heart　and　soulpoor　lamb。〃

When　Martin　and　Maggie　had　been　at　the　farm　about　a　fort…night；　there　came　to　St。　Dreot's　a　travelling　circus。　This　was　a　very　small　affair；　but　it　came　every　year；　and　provided　considerable　excitement　for　the　village　population。　There　were　also　gipsies　who　came　on　the　moor；　and　telling　the　fortunes　of　any　who　had　a　spare　sixpence　with　which　to　cross　their　palms。　The　foreign　and　exotic　colour　that　the　circus　and　the　gipsies　brought　into　the　village　was　exactly　suited　to　the　St。　Dreot　blood。　Many　centuries　ago　strange　galleys　had　forced　their　way　into　bays　and　creeks　of　the　southern　coast；　and　soon　dark　strangers　had　penetrated　across　the　moors　and　fields　and　had　mingled　with　the　natives　of　the　plain。　Scarcely　an　inhabitant　of　St。　Dreot　but　had　some　dark　colour　in　his　blood；　a　gift　from　those　Phoenician　adventurers；　scarcely　an　inhabitant　but　was　conscious　from　time　to　time　of　other　strains；　more　tumultuous　passions；　than　the　Saxon　race　could　show。

This　coming　of　the　circus　had　in　it；　whether　they　knew　it　or　no；　something　of　the　welcoming　of　their　own　people　back　to　them　again。　They　liked　to　see　the　elephant　and　the　camel　tread　solemnly　the　uneven　stones　of　the　village　street；　they　liked　to　hear　the　roar　of　the　wild　beasts　at　night　when　they　were　safe　and　warm　in　their　own　comfortable　beds；　they　liked　to　have　solemn　consultations　with　the　gipsy　girls　as　to　their　mysterious　destinies。　The　animals；　indeed；　were　not　many　nor；　poor　things；　were　they；　after　many　years'　chains　and　discipline；　very　fiercenevertheless　they　roared　because　they　knew　it　was　their　duty　so　to　do；　and　when　the　lion's　turn　came　a　notice　was　hung　up　outside　his　cage　saying：　〃This　is　the　Lion　that　last　year；　at　Clinton；　bit　Miss　Harper。〃　There　were　also　performing　dogs；　a　bear；　and　two　seals。

The　circus　was　quite　close　to　the　farm。

〃I　do　hope；〃　said　Mrs。　Bolitho　to　Martin；　〃that　the　roaring　of　the　animals　won't　disturb　you。〃

It　did　not　disturb　him。　He　seemed　to　like　it；　and　went　out　and　stood　there　watching　all　the　labours　of　the　gipsies　and　the　tent　men；　and　even　went　into　〃The　Green　Boar〃　and　drank　a　glass　of　beer　with　Mr。　Marquis；　the　proprietor　of　the　circus。

On　the　third　day　after　their　arrival　there　was　a　proper　Glebeshire　mist。　It　was　a　day；　also；　of　freezing；　biting　cold；　such　a　day　as　sometimes　comes　in　of　a　Glebeshire　Maycold　that　seems；　in　its　damp　penetration；　more　piercing　than　any　frost。

The　mist　came　rolling　up　over　the　moor　in　wreaths　and　spirals　of　shadowy　grey；　sometimes　shot　with　a　queer　dull　light　as　though　the　sun　was　fighting　behind　it　to　beat　a　way　through；　sometimes　so　dense　and　thick　that　standing　at　the　door　of　the　farm　you　could　not　see　your　hand　in　front　of　your　face。　It　was　cold　with　the　chill　of　the　sea　foam；　mysterious　in　its　ever…changing　intricacies　of　shape　and　form；　lifting　for　a　sudden　instant　and　showing　green　grass　and　the　pale　spring　flowers　in　the　border　by　the　windows；　then　charging　down　again　with　fold　on　fold　of　vapour　thicker　and　thicker；　swaying　and　throbbing　with　a　purpose　and　meaning　of　its　own。　Early　in　the　afternoon　Mrs。　Bolitho　took　a　peep　at　her　lodgers。　She　did　not　intend　to　spyshe　was　an　honest　womanbut　she　shared　most　vividly　the　curiosity　of　all　the　village　about　〃these　two　queer　ignorant　children；〃　as　she　called　them。　Standing　in　the　bow…window　of　her　own　little　parlour　she　could　see　the　bow…window　and　part　of　the　room　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　house…door。　Maggie　and　Martin　stood　there　looking　out　into　the　mist。　The　woman　could　see　Maggie's　face；　dim　though　the　light　was；　and　a　certain　haunting　desire　in　it　tugged　at　Mrs。　Bolitho's　tender　heart。　〃Poor　worm；〃　she　thought　to　herself；　〃she's　longing　for　him　to　say　something　to　her　and　he　won't。〃　They　were　talking。　Then　there　was　a　pause　and　Martin　turned　away。　Maggie's　eyes　passionately　besought　him。　What　did　she　want　him　to　doto　say？　Mrs。　Bolitho　could　see　that　the　girl's　hands　were　clenched；　as　though　she　had　reached；　at　last；　the　very　limits　of　her　endurance。　He　did　not　see。　His　back　was　half　turned　to　her。　He　did　not　speak；　but　stood　there　drumming　with　his　hands　on　the　glass。

〃Oh；　I　could　shake　him；〃　thought　Mrs。　Bolitho's　impatience。　For　a　time　Maggie　waited；　never　stirring；　her　eyes　fixed；　her　body　taut。

Then　she　seemed　suddenly　to　break；　as　though　the　moment　of　endurance　was　past。　She　turned　sharply　round；　looking　directly　out　of　her　window　into　Mrs。　Bolitho's　roombut　she　didn't　see　Mrs。　Bolitho。

That　good　woman　saw　her　smile；　a　strange　little　smile　of　defiance；　pathos；　loneliness；　cheeriness　defeated。　She　vanished　from　her　window　although　he　stood　there。　A　moment　later；　in　a　coat　and　hat；　she　came　out　of　the　front　door；　stood　for　a　moment　on　the　outskirts　of　the　mist　looking　about　her；　then　vanished　on　to　the　moor。

〃She　oughtn't　to　be　out　in　this；〃　thought　the　farmer's　wife。　〃It's　dangerous。〃

She　waited　a　little；　then　came　and　knocked　on　the　door　of　the　other　sitting…room。　She　met　Martin　in　the　doorway。

〃Oh；　Mrs。　Bolitho；〃　he　said；　〃I　thought　I'd　go　to　the　circus　for　half　an　hour。〃

〃Very　well；　sir；〃　she　said。

He　too　disappeared。　She　sat　in　her　kitchen　all　the　afternoon　busily　mending　the　undergarments　of　her　beloved　James。　But　her　thought　were　not　with　her　husband。　She　could　not　get　the　picture　of　those　two　young　things　standing　at　the　window　facing　the　mist…drunk　moor　out　of　her　head。　The　sense　that　had　come　to　the　farm　with　Martin's　entry　into　it　of　something　eerie　and　foreboding　increased　now　with　every　tick　of　the　heavy　kitchen　clock。　She　seemed　to　listen　now　for　sounds　and　portents。　The　death…tick　on　the　wallwas　that　foolish？　Some　men　said　so；　but　she　knew　better。　Had　she　not　heard　it　on　the　very　night　of　her　grandfather's　death？　She　sat　there　and　recounted　to　herself　every　ghost…story　that；　in　the　course　of　a　long　life；　had　come　her　way。　The　headless　horseman；　the　coach　with　the　dead　travellers；　the　three　pirates　and　their　swaying　gibbets；　the　ghost　of　St。　Dreot's　churchyard；　the　Wailing　Woman　of　Clinton；　and　many；　many　others；　all　passed　before　her；　making　pale　her　cheek　and　sending　her　heart　in　violent　beats　up　and　down　the　scale。

The　kitchen　grew　darker　and　darker。　She　let　the　underclothes　lie　upon　her　lap。　Soon　she　must　light　the　lamp；　but　meanwhile；　before　the　oven　she　let　her　fancies　overwhelm　her；　luxuriating　in　her　terror。

Suddenly　the　kitchen…door　was　flung　open。　She　started　up　with　a　cry。　Martin　stood　there　and　in　a　voice；　so　new　to　her　that　she　seemed　never　to　have　heard　it　before；　he　shouted；　〃Where's　Maggie？〃

She　stood　up　in　great　agitation。　He　came　towards　her　and　she　saw　that　his　face　was　violent　with　agitation；　with　a　kind　of　rage。

〃Where's　Maggie？〃　he　repeated。

She　saw　that　he　was　shaking　all　over　and　it　was　as　though　he　did　not　know　who　she　was。

〃Maggie？〃　she　repeated。

〃My　wife！　My　wife！〃　he　cried；　and　he　shouted　it　again　as　though　he　were　proclaiming　some　fact　to　the　whole　world。

〃She　went　out；〃　said　Mrs。　Bolitho；　〃about　three　hours　back　I　should　think。〃

〃Went　out！〃　he　stormed　at　her。　〃And　in　this？〃

Then；　before　she　could　say　another　word；　he　was　gone。　It　was　in　very　truth　like　an　apparition。

She　sat　there　for　some　time　staring　in　front　of　her；　still　shaken　by　the　violence　of　his　interruption。　She　went　then　to　the　kitchen…door　and　listenednot　a　sound　in　the　house。　She　went　farther；　out　through　the　passage　to　the　hall…door。　She　opened　it　and　looked　out。　A　sea　of　driving　mist；　billowing　and　driving　as　though　by　some　internal　breeze；　met　her。

〃Poor　things；〃　she　said　to　herself。　〃They　shouldn't　be　out　in　this。〃　She　shut　the　door　and　went　back　into　the　house。　She　called；　〃Jim！　Jim！　Where　are　you？〃　At　last　he　came；　stumping　up　from　some　mysterious　labour　in　the　lower　part　of　the　house。

〃What　is't？〃　he　said；　startled　by　her　white　face　and　troubled　eyes。

〃The　two　of　them；〃　she　said；　〃have　gone　out　on　to　the　moor　in　this　mist。　It　isn't　safe。〃

〃Whatever　for？〃　he　asked。

〃How　should　I　know？　She　went　out　first　and　now　he's　after　her。　'Tisn't　safe；　Jim。　You'd　best　follow　them。〃

He　didn't　argue　with　her；　being　an　obedient　husband　disciplined　by　many　years　of　matrimony。

〃Well；　I'll　go；〃　he　said　slowly。　〃Best　take　William；　though。〃

He　went　off　in　search　of　his　man。

But　Bolitho　need　not　trouble。　Half　an　hour　later　Maggie　returned；　stood　in　the　sitting…room　looking　about　her；　took　off　her　jacket　and　hat；　then；　pursuing　her　own　thoughts；　slowly　put　them　on。　She　was　then　about　to　leave　the　room　when　the　door　burst　open　and　Martin　tumbled　in。　He　stood　at　the　doorway　staring　at　her；　his　mouth　open。　〃Why！〃　he　stammered。　〃I　thought　。　。　。　I　thought　。　。　。　you　were　out　〃　She　looked　at　him　crossly。

〃You　shouldn't　have　gone　outan　afternoon　like　this。　If　I'd　been　here〃

〃Well；　you　weren't。　You　shouldn't　have　gone　out　either　for　the　matter　of　that。　And　I　was　at　the　circusa　damned　poor　one　too。　Your　things　are　soaking；〃　he　added；　suddenly　looking　up　at　her。　〃You　talk　about　me。　You'd　better　go　and　change。〃

〃I'm　going　out　again；〃　she　said。

〃Out　again？〃

〃Yes　。　。　。　There's　a　train　at　Clinton　at　seven。　I'm　catching　that。〃

〃A　train？〃　He　stared　at　her；　completely　bewildered。

〃Yes。　That's　what　I　went　out　to　get　my　head　clear　about。　Martin；　you've　beaten　me。　After　all　these　years　you　have。　Afte