还乡The Return Of The Native-第2部分

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he　used　as　a　veritable　third　leg；　perseveringly　dotting　the　ground　with　its　point　at　every　few　inches’　interval。　　One　would　have　said　that　he　had　been；　in　his　day；　a　naval　officer　of　some　sort　or　other。　
Before　him　stretched　the　long；　laborious　road；　dry；　empty；　and　white。　　It　was　quite　open　to　the　heath　on　each　side；　and　bisected　that　vast　dark　surface　like　the　parting…line　on　a　head　of　black　hair；　diminishing　and　bending　away　on　the　furthest　horizon。　
The　old　man　frequently　stretched　his　eyes　ahead　to　gaze　over　the　tract　that　he　had　yet　to　traverse。　　At　length　he　discerned；　a　long　distance　in　front　of　him；　a　moving　spot；　which　appeared　to　be　a　vehicle；　and　it　proved　to　be　going　the　same　way　as　that　in　which　he　himself　was　journeying。　　It　was　the　single　atom　of　life　that　the　scene　contained；　and　it　only　served　to　render　the　general　loneliness　more　evident。　　Its　rate　of　advance　was　slow；　and　the　old　man　gained　upon　it　sensibly。　
When　he　drew　nearer　he　perceived　it　to　be　a　spring　van；　ordinary　in　shape；　but　singular　in　colour；　this　being　a　lurid　red。　　The　driver　walked　beside　it；　and；　like　his　van；　he　was　pletely　red。　　One　dye　of　that　tincture　covered　his　clothes；　the　cap　upon　his　head；　his　boots；　his　face；　and　his　hands。　　He　was　not　temporarily　overlaid　with　the　colour；　it　permeated　him。　
The　old　man　knew　the　meaning　of　this。　　The　traveller　with　the　cart　was　a　reddleman—a　person　whose　vocation　it　was　to　supply　farmers　with　redding　for　their　sheep。　　He　was　one　of　a　class　rapidly　being　extinct　in　Wessex；　filling　at　present　in　the　rural　world　the　place　which；　during　the　last　century；　the　dodo　occupied　in　the　world　of　animals。　　He　is　a　curious；　interesting；　and　nearly　perished　link　between　obsolete　forms　of　life　and　those　which　generally　prevail。　
The　decayed　officer；　by　degrees；　came　up　alongside　his　fellow…wayfarer；　and　wished　him　good　evening。　　The　reddleman　turned　his　head；　and　replied　in　sad　and　occupied　tones。　　He　was　young；　and　his　face；　if　not　exactly　handsome；　approached　so　near　to　handsome　that　nobody　would　have　contradicted　an　assertion　that　it　really　was　so　in　its　natural　colour。　　His　eye；　which　glared　so　strangely　through　his　stain；　was　in　itself　attractive—keen　as　that　of　a　bird　of　prey；　and　blue　as　autumn　mist。　　He　had　neither　whisker　nor　moustache；　which　allowed　the　soft　curves　of　the　lower　part　of　his　face　to　be　apparent。　　His　lips　were　thin；　and　though；　as　it　seemed；　pressed　by　thought；　there　was　a　pleasant　twitch　at　their　corners　now　and　then。　　He　was　clothed　throughout　in　a　tight…fitting　suit　of　corduroy；　excellent　in　quality；　not　much　worn；　and　well…chosen　for　its　purpose；　but　deprived　of　its　original　colour　by　his　trade。　　It　showed　to　advantage　the　good　shape　of　his　figure。　　A　certain　well…to…do　air　about　the　man　suggested　that　he　was　not　poor　for　his　degree。　　The　natural　query　of　an　observer　would　have　been；　Why　should　such　a　promising　being　as　this　have　hidden　his　prepossessing　exterior　by　adopting　that　singular　occupation？
After　replying　to　the　old　man’s　greeting　he　showed　no　inclination　to　continue　in　talk；　although　they　still　walked　side　by　side；　for　the　elder　traveller　seemed　to　desire　pany。　　There　were　no　sounds　but　that　of　the　booming　wind　upon　the　stretch　of　tawny　herbage　around　them；　the　crackling　wheels；　the　tread　of　the　men；　and　the　footsteps　of　the　two　shaggy　ponies　which　drew　the　van。　　They　were　small；　hardy　animals；　of　a　breed　between　Galloway　and　Exmoor；　and　were　known　as　“heath…croppers”　here。　
Now；　as　they　thus　pursued　their　way；　the　reddleman　occasionally　left　his　panion’s　side；　and；　stepping　behind　the　van；　looked　into　its　interior　through　a　small　window。　　The　look　was　always　anxious。　　He　would　then　return　to　the　old　man；　who　made　another　remark　about　the　state　of　the　country　and　so　on；　to　which　the　reddleman　again　abstractedly　replied；　and　then　again　they　would　lapse　into　silence。　　The　silence　conveyed　to　neither　any　sense　of　awkwardness；　in　these　lonely　places　wayfarers；　after　a　first　greeting；　frequently　plod　on　for　miles　without　speech；　contiguity　amounts　to　a　tacit　conversation　where；　otherwise　than　in　cities；　such　contiguity　can　be　put　an　end　to　on　the　merest　inclination；　and　where　not　to　put　an　end　to　it　is　intercourse　in　itself。　
Possibly　these　two　might　not　have　spoken　again　till　their　parting；　had　it　not　been　for　the　reddleman’s　visits　to　his　van。　　When　he　returned　from　his　fifth　time　of　looking　in　the　old　man　said；　“You　have　something　inside　there　besides　your　load？”
“Yes。”
“Somebody　who　wants　looking　after？”
“Yes。”
Not　long　after　this　a　faint　cry　sounded　from　the　interior。　　The　reddleman　hastened　to　the　back；　looked　in；　and　came　away　again。　
“You　have　a　child　there；　my　man？”
“No；　sir；　I　have　a　woman。”
“The　deuce　you　have！　Why　did　she　cry　out？”
“Oh；　she　has　fallen　asleep；　and　not　being　used　to　traveling；　she’s　uneasy；　and　keeps　dreaming。”
“A　young　woman？”
“Yes；　a　young　woman。”
“That　would　have　interested　me　forty　years　ago。　
Perhaps　she’s　your　wife？”
“My　wife！”　said　the　other　bitterly。　　“She’s　above　mating　with　such　as　I。　But　there’s　no　reason　why　I　should　tell　you　about　that。”
“That’s　true。　　And　there’s　no　reason　why　you　should　not。　
What　harm　can　I　do　to　you　or　to　her？”
The　reddleman　looked　in　the　old　man’s　face。　　“Well；　sir；”　he　said　at　last；　“I　knew　her　before　today；　though　perhaps　it　would　have　been　better　if　I　had　not。　　But　she’s　nothing　to　me；　and　I　am　nothing　to　her；　and　she　wouldn’t　have　been　in　my　van　if　any　better　carriage　had　been　there　to　take　her。”
“Where；　may　I　ask？”
“At　Anglebury。”
“I　know　the　town　well。　　What　was　she　doing　there？”
“Oh；　not　much—to　gossip　about。　　However；　she’s　tired　to　death　now；　and　not　at　all　well；　and　that’s　what　makes　her　so　restless。　　She　dropped　off　into　a　nap　about　an　hour　ago；　and　‘twill　do　her　good。”
“A　nice…looking　girl；　no　doubt？”
“You　would　say　so。”
The　other　traveller　turned　his　eyes　with　interest　towards　the　van　window；　and；　without　withdrawing　them；　said；　“I　presume　I　might　look　in　upon　her？”
“No；”　said　the　reddleman　abruptly。　　“It　is　getting　too　dark　for　you　to　see　much　of　her；　and；　more　than　that；　I　have　no　right　to　allow　you。　　Thank　God　she　sleeps　so　well；　I　hope　she　won’t　wake　till　she’s　home。”
“Who　is　she？　　One　of　the　neighbourhood？”
“’Tis　no　matter　who；　excuse　me。”
“It　is　not　that　girl　of　Blooms…End；　who　has　been　talked　about　more　or　less　lately？　　If　so；　I　know　her；　and　I　can　guess　what　has　happened。”
“’Tis　no　matter。。。。Now；　sir；　I　am　sorry　to　say　that　we　shall　soon　have　to　part　pany。　　My　ponies　are　tired；　and　I　have　further　to　go；　and　I　am　going　to　rest　them　under　this　bank　for　an　hour。”
The　elder　traveller　nodded　his　head　indifferently；　and　the　reddleman　turned　his　horses　and　van　in　upon　the　turf；　saying；　“Good　night。”　　The　old　man　replied；　and　proceeded　on　his　way　as　before。　
The　reddleman　watched　his　form　as　it　diminished　to　a　speck　on　the　road　and　became　absorbed　in　the　thickening　films　of　night。　　He　then　took　some　hay　from　a　truss　which　was　slung　up　under　the　van；　and；　throwing　a　portion　of　it　in　front　of　the　horses；　made　a　pad　of　the　rest；　which　he　laid　on　the　ground　beside　his　vehicle。　　Upon　this　he　sat　down；　leaning　his　back　against　the　wheel。　
From　the　interior　a　low　soft　breathing　came　to　his　ear。　　It　appeared　to　satisfy　him；　and　he　musingly　surveyed　the　scene；　as　if　considering　the　next　step　that　he　should　take。
To　do　things　musingly；　and　by　small　degrees；　seemed；　indeed；　to　be　a　duty　in　the　Egdon　valleys　at　this　transitional　hour；　for　there　was　that　in　the　condition　of　the　heath　itself　which　resembled　protracted　and　halting　dubiousness。　　It　was　the　quality　of　the　repose　appertaining　to　the　scene。　　This　was　not　the　repose　of　actual　stagnation；　but　the　apparent　repose　of　incredible　slowness。　　A　condition　of　healthy　life　so　nearly　resembling　the　torpor　of　death　is　a　noticeable　thing　of　its　sort；　to　exhibit　the　inertness　of　the　desert；　and　at　the　same　time　to　be　exercising　powers　akin　to　those　of　the　meadow；　and　even　of　the　forest；　awakened　in　those　who　thought　of　it　the　attentiveness　usually　engendered　by　understatement　and　reserve。　
The　scene　before　the　reddleman’s　eyes　was　a　gradual　series　of　ascents　from　the　level　of　the　road　backward　into　the　heart　of　the　heath。　　It　embraced　hillocks；　pits；　ridges；　acclivities；　one　behind　the　other；　till　all　was　finished　by　a　high　hill　cutting　against　the　still　light　sky。　　The　traveller’s　eye　hovered　about　these　things　for　a　time；　and　finally　settled　upon　one　noteworthy　object　up　there。　　It　was　a　barrow。　　This　bossy　projection　of　earth　above　its　natural　level　occupied　the　loftiest　ground　of　the　loneliest　height　that　the　heath　contained。　　Although　from　the　vale　it　appeared　but　as　a　wart　on　an　Atlantean　brow；　its　actual　bulk　was　great。　　It　formed　the　pole　and　axis　of　this　heathery　world。　
As　the　resting　man　looked　at　the　barrow　he　became　aware　that　its　summit；　hitherto　the　highest　object　in　the　whole　prospect　round；　was　surmounted　by　something　higher。　　It　rose　from　the　semiglobular　mound　like　a　spike　from　a　helmet。　　The　first　instinct　of　an　imaginative　stranger　might　have　been　to　suppose　it　the　person　of　one　of　the　Celts　who　built　the　barrow；　so　far　had　all　of　modern　date　withdrawn　from　the　scene。　　It　seemed　a　sort　of　last　man　among　them；　musing　for　a　moment　before　dropping　into　eternal　night　with　the　rest　of　his　race。　
There　the　form　stood；　motionless　as　the　hill　beneath。　　Above　the　plain　rose　the　hill；　above　the　hill　rose　the　barrow；　and　above　the　barrow　rose　the　figure。　　Above　the　figure　was　nothing　that　could　be　mapped　elsewhere　than　on　a　celestial　globe。
Such　a　perfect；　delicate；　and　necessary　finish　did　the　figure　give　to　the　dark　pile　of　hills　that　it　seemed　to　be　the　only　obvious　justification　of　their　outline。　　Without　it；　there　was　the　dome　without　the　lantern；　with　it　the　architectural　demands　of　the　mass　were　satisfied。　　The　scene　was　strangely　homogeneous；　in　that　the　vale；　the　upland；　the　barrow；　and　the　figure　above　it　amounted　only　to　unity。　　Looking　at　this　or　that　member　of　the　group　was　not　observing　a　plete　thing；　but　a　fraction　of　a　thing。　
The　form　was　so　much　like　an　organic　part　of　the　entire　motionless　structure　that　to　see　it　move　would　hav