the captives-第74部分

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glad。

〃I　don't　want　to　curse　you；　Caroline；〃　said　Maggie。　〃Sit　down。　Tea　will　be　here　in　a　minute。　I　was　very　unhappy　about　what　you　did；　but　that's　all　a　long　time　ago　now；　and　I　was　to　blame　too。〃

〃Oh；　that's　just　sweet　of　you；〃　said　Caroline；　running　over　and　giving　Maggie　an　impulsive　kiss。　〃I　said　to　Alfred；　'Maggie　may　be　angry。　I　don't　know　how　she'll　receive　me；　I'm　sure。　She　had　the　sweetest　nature　always；　and　it　isn't　like　her　to　bear　a　grudge。　But　whatever　way　it　is；　I'll　have　to　take　it；　because　the　fact　is　I　deserve　it。'　But　there　you　are；　simply　angelic　and　I'm　ever　so　glad。　The　fact　is　I　was　ridicilous　in　those　days。　I　don't　wonder　you　lost　your　patience　with　me；　and　it　was　just　like　your　honest　self　to　be　so　frank　with　me。　But　marriage　has　just　taught　me　everything。　What　I　say　is；　every　one　ought　to　be　married；　no　one　knows　anything　until　they're　married。　It's　amazing　what　a　difference　it　makes；　don't　you　think　so？　Why；　before　I　was　married　I　used　to　chatter　on　in　the　most　ridicilous　way　（Caroline　always　said　ridicilous）　and　now…but　there　I　go；　talking　of　myself；　and　it's　you　I　want　to　hear　about。　Now；　Maggie；　tell　me〃　But　the　sudden　entrance　of　Grace　and　Paul　checked；　for　the　moment；　these　confidences。　Caroline　did　not　stay　long　this　first　time。　She　talked　a　little；　drank　some　tea；　ate　a　biscuit；　smiled　at　Paul　and　departed。　She　felt；　perhaps；　that　Grace　did　not　approve　of　her。　Grace　had　not　seen　her　before；　certainly　she　would　not　approve　of　the　peach…coloured　dress　and　the　smile　at　Paul。　And　then　the　girl　talked　too　much。　She　had　interrupted　Grace　in　the　middle　of　one　of　her　stories。

When　Caroline　had　departed　（after　kissing　Maggie　affectionately）　Grace　said：

〃And　so　you　knew　her　before；　Maggie？〃

〃I　knew　her　in　London；〃　said　Maggie。

〃I　like　her；〃　said　Paul。　〃A　bright　young　creature。〃

〃Hum！〃　said　Grace。

That　was　a　wonderful　spring　evening；　the　first　spring　evening　of　the　year。　The　ugly　garden　swam　in　a　mist　faintly　cherry…colour；　through　the　mist　a　pale　evening　sky；　of　so　rich　a　blue　that　it　was　almost　white；　was　shadowing　against　a　baby　moon　sharply　gold。　The　bottles　on　the　wall　were　veiled　by　the　evening　mist；　a　thrush　sang　in　the　little　bush　at　the　end　of　the　lawn。

Paul　whispered　to　Maggie：　〃Come　out　into　the　garden。〃

She　went　with　him；　frightened；　she　could　feel　his　arm　tremble　against　her　waist；　his　cold　hard　fingers　caught　hers。　No　current　ran　from　her　body　to　his。　They　were　apart；　try　as　she　may。　When　they　had　walked　the　length　of　the　lawn　he　caught　her　close　to　him；　put　his　hand　roughly　up　to　her　neck　and；　bending　her　head　towards　his；　kissed　her。　She　heard　his　words；　strangled　and　fierce。

〃Love　me；　Maggie…love　me…you　must〃

When　he　released　her；　looking　back　towards　the　dark　house；　she　saw　Grace　standing　there　with　a　lamp　in　her　hand。

Against　her　will　she　shared　his　feeling　of　guilt；　as；　like　children　caught　in　a　fault；　they　turned　back　towards　the　house。




CHAPTER　V

THE　BATTLE　OF　SKEATON

FIRST　YEAR


Afterwards；　when　Maggie　looked　back　she　was　baffled。　She　tried　to　disentangle　the　events　between　that　moment　when　Grace；　holding　the　lamp　in　her　hand；　blinked　at　them　as　they　came　across　the　lawn；　and　that　other　most　awful　moment　when；　in　Paul's　study；　Grace　declared　final　and　irrevocable　war。

Between　those　two　events　ran　the　history　of　more　than　two　years；　and　there　was　nothing　stranger　than　the　way　that　the　scene　in　the　garden　and　the　scene　in　the　study　seemed　to　Maggie　to　be　close　together。　What　were　the　steps；　she　used　to　ask　herself　afterwards；　that　led　to　those　last　months　of　fury　and　tragedy　and　disaster？　Was　it　my　fault？　Was　it　hers？　Was　it　Paul's？　What　happened？　If　I　had　not　done　this　or　that；　if　Grace　had　not　saidno；　it　was　hopeless。　She　would　break　off　in　despair。　Isolated　scenes　appeared　before　her；　always　bound；　on　either　side；　by　that　prologue　and　that　finale；　but　the　scenes　would　not　form　a　chain。　She　could　not　connect；　she　would　remain　until　the　end　bewildered　as　to　Grace's　motives。　She　never；　until　the　day　of　her　death；　was　to　understand　Grace。

〃She　was　angry　for　such　little　things；〃　she　said　afterwards。

〃She　hated　me　to　be　myself。〃　The　two　years　in　retrospect　seemed　to　have　passed　with　incredible　swiftness；　the　months　that　followed　them　were　heavy　and　slow　with　trouble。　But　from　the　very　first；　that　is；　from　the　moment　when　Grace　saw　Paul　kiss　Maggie　in　the　evening　garden；　battle　was　declared。　Maggie　might　not　know　it；　but　it　was　so…and　Grace　knew　it　very　well。

It　may　be　said；　however；　in　Grace's　defence　that　she　gave　Maggie　every　chance。　She　marvelled　at　her　own　patience。　For　two　years　after　that　moment；　when　she　decided　that　Maggie　was　〃queer；〃　and　that　her　beloved　Paul　was　in　real　danger　of　his　losing　his　soul　because　of　that　〃queerness；〃　she　held　her　hand。　She　was　not　naturally　a　patient　woman…she　was　not　introspective　enough　to　be　thatand　she　held　no　brief　for　Maggie。　Nevertheless　for　two　whole　years　she　held　her　hand　。　。　。

They　were；　all　three；　in　that　ugly　house；　figures　moving　in　the　dark。　Grace　simply　knew；　as　the　months　passed；　that　she　disliked　and　feared　Maggie　more　and　more；　Paul　knew　that　as　the　months　passed…　well；　what　he　knew　will　appear　in　the　following　pages。　And　Maggie？　She　only　knew　that　it　needed　all　her　endurance　and　stubborn　will　to　force　herself　to　accept　this　life　as　her　life。　She　must…she　must。　To　give　way　meant　to　run　away；　and　to　run　away　meant　to　long　for　what　she　could　not　have；　and　loneliness　and　defeat。　She　would　make　this　into　a　success；　she　would　care　for　Paul　although　she　could　not　give　him　all　that　he　needed。　She　would　and　she　could　。　。　。　Every　morning　as　she　lay　awake　in　the　big　double…bed　with　the　brass　knobs　at　the　bed…foot　winking　at　her　in　the　early　light　she　vowed　that　she　would　justify　her　acceptance　of　the　man　who　lay　sleeping　so　peacefully　beside　her。　Poor　child；　her　battle　with　Grace　was　to　teach　her　how　far　her　will　and　endurance　could　carry　her　。　。　。

Grace；　on　her　side；　was　not　a　bad　woman；　she　was　simply　a　stupid　one。　She　disliked　Maggie　for　what　seemed　to　her　most　admirable　reasons　and；　as　that　dislike　slowly；　slowly　turned　into　hatred；　her　self…justification　only　hardened。

Until　that　moment；　when　she　saw　a　faded　patch　of　wall…paper　on　the　wall　instead　of　her　mother's　portrait；　she　had　no　doubts　whatever　about　the　success　of　what　she　considered　her　choice。　Maggie　was　a　〃dear；〃　young；　ignorant；　helpless；　but　the　very　wife　for　Paul。　Then　slowly；　slowly；　the　picture　changed。　Maggie　was　obstinate；　Maggie　was　careless；　Maggie　was　selfish；　idle；　lazy；　irreligious…at　last；　Maggie　was　〃queer。〃

Then；　when　in　the　dusk　of　that　summer　evening；　she　saw　Paul　kiss　Maggie；　as　the　moths　blundered　about　her　lamp；　her　stolid　unimaginative　heart　was　terrified。　This　girl；　who　was　she？　What　had　she　been　before　they　found　her？　What　was　this　strange　passion　in　Paul　isolating　him　from　her；　his　sister？　This　girl　was　dangerous　to　them　all…a　heathen。　They　had　made　a　terrible　mistake。　Paul　had　been　from　the　first　bewitched　by　some　strange　spell；　and　the；　his　sister；　had　aided　the　witch。

And　yet；　to　her　credit　be　it　remembered；　for　two　years；　she　fought　her　fears；　superstitions；　jealousies；　angers。　That　can　have　been　no　easy　thing　for　a　woman　who　had　always　had　her　own　way。　But　Maggie　helped　her。　There　were　many　days　during　that　first　year　at　any　rate　when　Grace　thought　that　the　girl　was；　after　all；　only　the　simple　harmless　child　that　she　had　first　found　her。

It　was　so　transparently　clear　that　Maggie　bore　no　malice　against　any　one　in　the　world；　that　when　she　angered　Grace　she　did　so　always　by　accident；　never　by　plan…it　was　only　unfortunate　that　the　accidents　should　occur　so　often。

Maggie's　days　were　from　the　very　first　of　the　utmost　regularity。　Breakfast　at　8。30；　then　an　interview　with　the　cook　（Grace　generally　in　attendance　here）；　then　shopping　（with　Grace）；　luncheon　at　1。30；　afternoon；　paying　calls　or　receiving　them；　dinner　7。45；　and　after　dinner；　reading　a　book　while　Paul　and　Grace　played　bezique；　or；　if　Paul　was　busy　upon　a　sermon　or　a　letter　（he　wrote　letters　very　slowly）；　patience　with　Grace。　This　regular　day　was　varied　with　meetings；　choir　practices；　dinner…parties；　and　an　occasional　Penny　Reading。

In　this　framework　of　the　year　it　would　have　appeared　that　there　was　very　little　that　could　breed　disturbance。　There　were；　however；　little　irritations。　Maggie　would　have　given　a　great　deal　could　she　have　been　allowed　to　interview　the　cook　in　the　morning　alone。

It　would　seem　impossible　to　an　older　person　that　Grace's　presence　could　so　embarrass　Maggie；　it　embarrassed　her　to　the　terrible　extent　of　driving　every　idea　out　of　her　head。

When　Maggie　had　stammered　and　hesitated　and　at　last　allowed；　the　cook　to　make　a　suggestion；　Grace　would　say。　〃You　mustn't　leave　it　all　to　cook；　dear。　Now　what　about　a　nice　shepherd's　pie？〃

The　cook；　who　hated　Grace；　would　toss　her　head。

〃Impossible　to…day；　Mum　。　。　。　Quite　impossible。〃

〃Oh；　do　you　think　so？〃　Maggie　would　say。

This　was　the　cook's　opportunity。

〃Well；　for　you；　Mum；　I'll　see　if　it　can't　be　managed。　Difficult　as　it　is。〃

Grace's　anger　boiled　over。

〃That　woman　must　go；〃　she　insisted。

〃Very　well；〃　said　Maggie。

Cook　after　cook　appeared　and　vanished。　They　all　hated　Grace。

〃You're　not　very　good　at　keeping　servants；　are　you；　Maggie；　dear？〃　said　Grace。

Then　there　was　the　shopping。　Grace's　conversation　was　the　real　trouble　here。　Grace's　stories　had　seemed　rather　a　joke　in　London；　soon；　in　Skeaton；　they　became　a　torture。　From　the　vicarage　to　the　High　Street　was　not　far；　but　it　was　far　enough　for　Grace's　narrative　powers　to　stretch　their　legs　and　get　a　healthy　appetite　for　the　day's　work。　Grace　walked　very　slowly；　because　of　her　painful　breathing。　Her　stout　stolid　figure　in　its　stiff　clothes　（the　skirt　rather　short；　thick　legs　in　black　stockings　and　large　flat　boots）；　marched　along。　She　had　a　peculiar　walk；　planting　each　foot　on　the　ground　with　deliberate　determination　as　though　she　were　squashing　a　malignant　beetle；　she　was　rather　short…sighted；　but　did　not　wear　glasses；　because；　as　she　said　to　Maggie；　〃one　need　not　look　peculiar　until　one　must。〃　Her　favourite　head…gear　was　a　black　straw　hat　with　a　rather　faded　black　ribbon　an