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！
her such happiness meaning to take it from her！ Surely her love was
not to be only one summer's day； his love but an embrace； and then
for ever nothing！
This morning； fortified by despair； she admitted her own beauty。 He
would； he must want her more than that other life； at the very
thought of which her face darkened。 That other life so hard； and far
from her！ So loveless； formal； and yetto him so real； so
desperately； accursedly real！ If he must indeed give up his career；
then surely the life they could live together would make up to him
a life among simple and sweet things； all over the world； with music
and pictures； and the flowers and all Nature； and friends who sought
them for themselves； and in being kind to everyone； and helping the
poor and the unfortunate； and loving each other！ But he did not want
that sort of life！ What was the good of pretending that he did？ It
was right and natural he should want； to use his powers！ To lead and
serve！ She would not have him otherwise： With these thoughts
hovering and darting within her； she went on twisting and coiling her
dark hair； and burying her heart beneath its lace defences。 She
noted too； with her usual care； two fading blossoms in the bowl of
flowers on her dressing…table； and； removing their； emptied out the
water and refilled the bowl。
Before she left her bedroom the sunbeams had already ceased to dance；
the grey filaments of light were gone。 Autumn sky had come into its
own。 Passing the mirror in the hall which was always rough with her；
she had not courage to glance at it。 Then suddenly a woman's belief
in the power of her charm came to her aid； she felt almost happy
surely he must love her better than his conscience！ But that
confidence was very tremulous； ready to yield to the first rebuff。
Even the friendly freshcheeked maid seemed that morning to be
regarding her with compassion； and all the innate sense； not of 'good
form；' but of form； which made her shrink from anything that should
disturb or hurt another； or make anyone think she was to be pitied；
rose up at once within her； she became more than ever careful to show
nothing even to herself。 So she passed the morning； mechanically
doing the little usual things。 An overpowering longing was with her
all the time； to get him away with her from England； and see whether
the thousand beauties she could show him would not fire him with love
of the things she loved。 As a girl she had spent nearly three years
abroad。 And Eustace had never been to Italy； nor to her beloved
mountain valleys！ Then； the remembrance of his rooms at the Temple
broke in on that vision； and shattered it。 No Titian's feast of
gentian； tawny brown； and alpen…rose could intoxicate the lover of
those books； those papers； that great map。 And the scent of leather
came to her now as poignantly as if she were once more flitting about
noiselessly on her business of nursing。 Then there rushed through
her again the warm wonderful sense that had been with her all those
precious daysof love that knew secretly of its approaching triumph
and fulfilment； the delicious sense of giving every minute of her
time； every thought； and movement； and all the sweet unconscious
waiting for the divine； irrevocable moment when at last she would
give herself and be his。 The remembrance too of how tired； how
sacredly tired she had been； and of how she had smiled all the time
with her inner joy of being tired for him。
The sound of the bell startled her。 His telegram had said； the
afternoon！ She determined to show nothing of the trouble darkening
the whole world for her； and drew a deep breath； waiting for his
kiss。
It was not Miltoun； but Lady Casterley。
The shock sent the blood buzzing into her temples。 Then she noticed
that the little figure before her was also trembling； drawing up a
chair； she said： 〃Won't you sit down？〃
The tone of that old voice； thanking her； brought back sharply the
memory of her garden； at Monkland； bathed in the sweetness and
shimmer of summer； and of Barbara standing at her gate towering above
this little figure； which now sat there so silent； with very white
face。 Those carved features； those keen； yet veiled eyes； had too
often haunted her thoughts； they were like a bad dream come true。
〃My grandson is not here； is he？〃
Audrey shook her head。
〃We have heard of his decision。 I will not beat about the bush with
you。 It is a disaster for me a calamity。 I have known and loved him
since he was born； and I have been foolish enough to dream； dreams
about him。 I wondered perhaps whether you knew how much we counted
on him。 You must forgive an old woman's coming here like this。 At
my age there are few things that matter； but they matter very much。〃
And Audrey thought： 〃And at my age there is but one thing that
matters； and that matters worse than death。〃 But she did not speak。
To whom； to what should she speak？ To this hard old woman； who
personified the world？ Of what use； words？；；
〃I can say to you；〃 went on the voice of the little figure； that
seemed so to fill the room with its grey presence； 〃what I could not
bring myself to say to others； for you are not hard…hearted。〃
A quiver passed up from the heart so praised to the still lips。 No；
she was not hard…hearted！ She could even feel for this old woman
from whose voice anxiety had stolen its despotism。
〃Eustace cannot live without his career。 His career is himself； he
must be doing； and leading； and spending his powers。 What he has
given you is not his true self。 I don't want to hurt you； but the
truth is the truth； and we must all bow before it。 I may be hard；
but I can respect sorrow。〃
To respect sorrow！ Yes； this grey visitor could do that； as the wind
passing over the sea respects its surface； as the air respects the
surface of a rose； but to penetrate to the heart； to understand her
sorrow； that old age could not do for youth！ As well try to track
out the secret of the twistings in the flight of those swallows out
there above the river； or to follow to its source the faint scent of
the lilies in that bowl！ How should she know what was passing in
herethis little old woman whose blood was cold？ And Audrey had the
sensation of watching someone pelt her with the rind and husks of
what her own spirit had long devoured。 She had a longing to get up；
and take the hand； the chill； spidery hand of age； and thrust it into
her breast； and say： 〃Feel that； and cease！〃
But； withal； she never lost her queer dull compassion for the owner
of that white carved face。 It was not her visitor's fault that she
had come！ Again Lady Casterley was speaking。
〃It is early days。 If you do not end it now； at once； it will only
come harder on you presently。 You know how determined he is。 He
will not change his mind。 If you cut him off from his work in life；
it will but recoil on you。 I can only expect your hatred； for
talking like this； but believe me； it's for your good； as well as
his； in the long run。〃
A tumultuous heart…beating of ironical rage seized on the listener to
that speech。 Her good！ The good of a corse that the breath