john ingerfield and other stories-第8部分

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behind　the　other　（these　are　now；　as　I　think　I　have　explained　to　you；

connected　by　a　passage）；　the　smaller　one　was　the　homestead；　in　the

other　he　carved　and　wrote；　so　that　while　the　young　wife　slept　the

'maker　of　runes'　and　the　saeter　woman　sat　whispering。



〃One　night；　however；　the　wife　learnt　all　things；　but　said　no　word。

Then；　as　now；　the　ravine　in　front　of　the　enclosure　was　crossed　by　a

slight　bridge　of　planks；　and　over　this　bridge　the　woman　of　the　saeter

passed　and　repassed　each　night。　　On　a　day　when　Hund　had　gone　down　to

fish　in　the　fiord；　the　wife　took　an　axe；　and　hacked　and　hewed　at　the

bridge；　yet　it　still　looked　firm　and　solid；　and　that　night；　as　Hund

sat　waiting　in　his　workshop；　there　struck　upon　his　ears　a　piercing

cry；　and　a　crashing　of　logs　and　rolling　rock；　and　then　again　the　dull

roaring　of　the　torrent　far　below。



〃But　the　woman　did　not　die　unavenged；　for　that　winter　a　man；　skating

far　down　the　fiord；　noticed　a　curious　object　embedded　in　the　ice；　and

when；　stooping；　he　looked　closer；　he　saw　two　corpses；　one　gripping

the　other　by　the　throat；　and　the　bodies　were　the　bodies　of　Hund　and

his　young　wife。



〃Since　then；　they　say；　the　woman　of　the　saeter　haunts　Hund's　house；

and　if　she　sees　a　light　within　she　taps　upon　the　door；　and　no　man　may

keep　her　out。　　Many；　at　different　times；　have　tried　to　occupy　the

house；　but　strange　tales　are　told　of　them。　　'Men　do　not　live　at

Hund's　saeter；'　said　my　old　grey…haired　friend；　concluding　his　tale；…

…'they　die　there。'



〃I　have　persuaded　some　of　the　braver　of　the　villagers　to　bring　what

provisions　and　other　necessaries　we　require　up　to　a　plateau　about　a

mile　from　the　house　and　leave　them　there。　　That　is　the　most　I　have

been　able　to　do。　　It　comes　somewhat　as　a　shock　to　one　to　find　men　and

womenfairly　educated　and　intelligent　as　many　of　them　areslaves　to

fears　that　one　would　expect　a　child　to　laugh　at。　　But　there　is　no

reasoning　with　superstition。〃





Extract　from　the　same　letter；　but　from　a　part　seemingly　written　a　day

or　two　later：



〃At　home　I　should　have　forgotten　such　a　tale　an　hour　after　I　had

heard　it；　but　these　mountain　fastnesses　seem　strangely　fit　to　be　the

last　stronghold　of　the　supernatural。　　The　woman　haunts　me　already。

At　night　instead　of　working；　I　find　myself　listening　for　her　tapping

at　the　door；　and　yesterday　an　incident　occurred　that　makes　me　fear

for　my　own　common　sense。　　I　had　gone　out　for　a　long　walk　alone；　and

the　twilight　was　thickening　into　darkness　as　I　neared　home。　　Suddenly

looking　up　from　my　reverie；　I　saw；　standing　on　a　knoll　the　other　side

of　the　ravine；　the　figure　of　a　woman。　　She　held　a　cloak　about　her

head；　and　I　could　not　see　her　face。　　I　took　off　my　cap；　and　called

out　a　good…night　to　her；　but　she　never　moved　or　spoke。　　ThenGod

knows　why；　for　my　brain　was　full　of　other　thoughts　at　the　timea

clammy　chill　crept　over　me；　and　my　tongue　grew　dry　and　parched。　　I

stood　rooted　to　the　spot；　staring　at　her　across　the　yawning　gorge

that　divided　us；　and　slowly　she　moved　away；　and　passed　into　the

gloom；　and　I　continued　my　way。　　I　have　said　nothing　to　Muriel；　and

shall　not。　　The　effect　the　story　has　had　upon　myself　warns　me　not　to

do　so。〃





From　a　letter　dated　eleven　days　later：



〃She　has　come。　　I　have　known　she　would；　since　that　evening　I　saw　her

on　the　mountain；　and　last　night　she　came；　and　we　have　sat　and　looked

into　each　other's　eyes。　　You　will　say；　of　course；　that　I　am　madthat

I　have　not　recovered　from　my　feverthat　I　have　been　working　too

hardthat　I　have　heard　a　foolish　tale；　and　that　it　has　filled　my

overstrung　brain　with　foolish　fancies：　　I　have　told　myself　all　that。

But　the　thing　came；　neverthelessa　creature　of　flesh　and　blood？　a

creature　of　air？　a　creature　of　my　own　imagination？what　matter？　it

was　real　to　me。



〃It　came　last　night；　as　I　sat　working；　alone。　　Each　night　I　have

waited　for　it；　listened　for　itlonged　for　it；　I　know　now。　　I　heard

the　passing　of　its　feet　upon　the　bridge；　the　tapping　of　its　hand　upon

the　door；　three　timestap；　tap；　tap。　　I　felt　my　loins　grow　cold；　and

a　pricking　pain　about　my　head；　and　I　gripped　my　chair　with　both

hands；　and　waited；　and　again　there　came　the　tappingtap；　tap；　tap。

I　rose　and　slipped　the　bolt　of　the　door　leading　to　the　other　room；

and　again　I　waited；　and　again　there　came　the　tappingtap；　tap；　tap。

Then　I　opened　the　heavy　outer　door；　and　the　wind　rushed　past　me；

scattering　my　papers；　and　the　woman　entered　in；　and　I　closed　the　door

behind　her。　　She　threw　her　hood　back　from　her　head；　and　unwound　a

kerchief　from　about　her　neck；　and　laid　it　on　the　table。　　Then　she

crossed　and　sat　before　the　fire；　and　I　noticed　her　bare　feet　were

damp　with　the　night　dew。



〃I　stood　over　against　her　and　gazed　at　her；　and　she　smiled　at　mea

strange；　wicked　smile；　but　I　could　have　laid　my　soul　at　her　feet。

She　never　spoke　or　moved；　and　neither　did　I　feel　the　need　of　spoken

words；　for　I　understood　the　meaning　of　those　upon　the　Mount　when　they

said；　'Let　us　make　here　tabernacles：　　it　is　good　for　us　to　be　here。'



〃How　long　a　time　passed　thus　I　do　not　know；　but　suddenly　the　woman

held　her　hand　up；　listening；　and　there　came　a　faint　sound　from　the

other　room。　　Then　swiftly　she　drew　her　hood　about　her　face　and　passed

out；　closing　the　door　softly　behind　her；　and　I　drew　back　the　bolt　of

the　inner　door　and　waited；　and　hearing　nothing　more；　sat　down；　and

must　have　fallen　asleep　in　my　chair。



〃I　awoke；　and　instantly　there　flashed　through　my　mind　the　thought　of

the　kerchief　the　woman　had　left　behind　her；　and　I　started　from　my

chair　to　hide　it。　　But　the　table　was　already　laid　for　breakfast；　and

my　wife　sat　with　her　elbows　on　the　table　and　her　head　between　her

hands；　watching　me　with　a　look　in　her　eyes　that　was　new　to　me。



〃She　kissed　me；　though　her　lips　were　cold；　and　I　argued　to　myself

that　the　whole　thing　must　have　been　a　dream。　　But　later　in　the　day；

passing　the　open　door　when　her　back　was　towards　me；　I　saw　her　take

the　kerchief　from　a　locked　chest　and　look　at　it。



〃I　have　told　myself　it　must　have　been　a　kerchief　of　her　own；　and　that

all　the　rest　has　been　my　imagination；　that；　if　not；　then　my　strange

visitant　was　no　spirit；　but　a　woman；　and　that；　if　human　thing　knows

human　thing；　it　was　no　creature　of　flesh　and　blood　that　sat　beside　me

last　night。　　Besides；　what　woman　would　she　be？　　The　nearest　saeter　is

a　three…hours'　climb　to　a　strong　man；　and　the　paths　are　dangerous

even　in　daylight：　　what　woman　would　have　found　them　in　the　night？

What　woman　would　have　chilled　the　air　around　her；　and　have　made　the

blood　flow　cold　through　all　my　veins？　　Yet　if　she　come　again　I　will

speak　to　her。　　I　will　stretch　out　my　hand　and　see　whether　she　be

mortal　thing　or　only　air。〃





The　fifth　letter：



〃MY　DEAR　JOYCE；Whether　your　eyes　will　ever　see　these　letters　is

doubtful。　　From　this　place　I　shall　never　send　them。　　They　would　read

to　you　as　the　ravings　of　a　madman。　　If　ever　I　return　to　England　I　may

one　day　show　them　to　you；　but　when　I　do　it　will　be　when　I；　with　you；

can　laugh　over　them。　　At　present　I　write　them　merely　to　hide　away；

putting　the　words　down　on　paper　saves　my　screaming　them　aloud。



〃She　comes　each　night　now；　taking　the　same　seat　beside　the　embers；

and　fixing　upon　me　those　eyes；　with　the　hell…light　in　them；　that　burn

into　my　brain；　and　at　rare　times　she　smiles；　and　all　my　being　passes

out　of　me；　and　is　hers。　　I　make　no　attempt　to　work。　　I　sit　listening

for　her　footsteps　on　the　creaking　bridge；　for　the　rustling　of　her

feet　upon　the　grass；　for　the　tapping　of　her　hand　upon　the　door。　　No

word　is　uttered　between　us。　　Each　day　I　say：　　'When　she　comes　to…

night　I　will　speak　to　her。　　I　will　stretch　out　my　hand　and　touch

her。'　　Yet　when　she　enters；　all　thought　and　will　goes　out　from　me。



〃Last　night；　as　I　stood　gazing　at　her；　my　soul　filled　with　her

wondrous　beauty　as　a　lake　with　moonlight；　her　lips　parted；　and　she

started　from　her　chair；　and；　turning；　I　thought　I　saw　a　white　face

pressed　against　the　window；　but　as　I　looked　it　vanished。　　Then　she

drew　her　cloak　about　her；　and　passed　out。　　I　slid　back　the　bolt　I

always　draw　now；　and　stole　into　the　other　room；　and；　taking　down　the

lantern；　held　it　above　the　bed。　　But　Muriel's　eyes　were　closed　as　if

in　sleep。〃





Extract　from　the　sixth　letter：



〃It　is　not　the　night　I　fear；　but　the　day。　　I　hate　the　sight　of　this

woman　with　whom　I　live；　whom　I　call　'wife。'　　I　shrink　from　the　blow

of　her　cold　lips；　the　curse　of　her　stony　eyes。　　She　has　seen；　she　has

learnt；　I　feel　it；　I　know　it。　　Yet　she　winds　her　arms　around　my　neck；

and　calls　me　sweetheart；　and　smoothes　my　hair　with　her　soft；　false

hands。　　We　speak　mocking　words　of　love　to　one　another；　but　I　know　her

cruel　eyes　are　ever　following　me。　　She　is　plotting　her　revenge；　and　I

hate　her；　I　hate　her；　I　hate　her！〃





Part　of　the　seventh　letter：



〃This　morning　I　went　down　to　the　fiord。　　I　told　her　I　should　not　be

back　until　the　evening。　　She　stood　by　the　door　watching　me　until　we

were　mere　specks　to　one　another；　and　a　promontory　of　the　mountain

shut　me　from　view。　　Then；　turning　aside　from　the　track；　I　made　my

way；　running　and　stumbling　over　the　jagged　ground；　round　to　the　other

side　of　the　mountain；　and　began　to　climb　again。　　It　was　slow；　weary

work。　　Often　I　had　to　go　miles　out　of　my　road　to　avoid　a　ravine；　and

twice　I　reached　a　high　point　only　to　have　to　descend　again。　　But　at

length　I　crossed　the　ridge；　and　crept　down　to　a　spot　from　where；

concealed；　I　could　spy　upon　my　own　house。　　Shemy　wifestood　by　the

flimsy　bridge。　　A　short　hatchet；　such　as　butchers　use；　was　in　her

hand。　　She　leant　against　a　pine　trunk；　with　her　arm　behind　her；　as

one　stands　whose　back　aches　with　long　stooping　in　some　cramped

position；　and　even　at　that　distance　I　could　see　the　cruel　smile　about

her　lips。



〃Then　I　recrossed　the　ridge；　and　crawled　down　again；　and；　waiting

until　evening；　walked　sl