还乡The Return Of The Native-第32部分

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ur　prospects　in　some　way　because　of　it；　so　I　said　nothing。　　Of　course；　if　they　had　married　at　that　time　in　a　proper　manner；　I　should　have　told　you　at　once。”
“Tamsin　actually　being　married　while　we　are　sitting　here！”
“Yes。　Unless　some　accident　happens　again；　as　it　did　the　first　time。　　It　may；　considering　he’s　the　same　man。”
“Yes；　and　I　believe　it　will。　　Was　it　right　to　let　her　go？
Suppose　Wildeve　is　really　a　bad　fellow？”
“Then　he　won’t　e；　and　she’ll　e　home　again。”
“You　should　have　looked　more　into　it。”
“It　is　useless　to　say　that；”　his　mother　answered　with　an　impatient　look　of　sorrow。　　“You　don’t　know　how　bad　it　has　been　here　with　us　all　these　weeks；　Clym。　　You　don’t　know　what　a　mortification　anything　of　that　sort　is　to　a　woman。　　You　don’t　know　the　sleepless　nights　we’ve　had　in　this　house；　and　the　almost　bitter　words　that　have　passed　between　us　since　that　Fifth　of　November。　　I　hope　never　to　pass　seven　such　weeks　again。　　Tamsin　has　not　gone　outside　the　door；　and　I　have　been　ashamed　to　look　anybody　in　the　face；　and　now　you　blame　me　for　letting　her　do　the　only　thing　that　can　be　done　to　set　that　trouble　straight。”
“No；”　he　said　slowly。　　“Upon　the　whole　I　don’t　blame　you。　　But　just　consider　how　sudden　it　seems　to　me。　　Here　was　I；　knowing　nothing；　and　then　I　am　told　all　at　once　that　Tamsie　is　gone　to　be　married。　　Well；　I　suppose　there　was　nothing　better　to　do。　　Do　you　know；　Mother；”　he　continued　after　a　moment　or　two；　looking　suddenly　interested　in　his　own　past　history；　“I　once　thought　of　Tamsin　as　a　sweetheart？　　Yes；　I　did。　　How　odd　boys　are！　And　when　I　came　home　and　saw　her　this　time　she　seemed　so　much　more　affectionate　than　usual；　that　I　was　quite　reminded　of　those　days；　particularly　on　the　night　of　the　party；　when　she　was　unwell。　　We　had　the　party　just　the　same—was　not　that　rather　cruel　to　her？”
“It　made　no　difference。　　I　had　arranged　to　give　one；　and　it　was　not　worth　while　to　make　more　gloom　than　necessary。　　To　begin　by　shutting　ourselves　up　and　telling　you　of　Tamsin’s　misfortunes　would　have　been　a　poor　sort　of　wele。”
Clym　remained　thinking。　　“I　almost　wish　you　had　not　had　that　party；”　he　said；　“and　for　other　reasons。　　But　I　will　tell　you　in　a　day　or　two。　　We　must　think　of　Tamsin　now。”
They　lapsed　into　silence。　　“I’ll　tell　you　what；”　said　Yeobright　again；　in　a　tone　which　showed　some　slumbering　feeling　still。　　“I　don’t　think　it　kind　to　Tamsin　to　let　her　be　married　like　this；　and　neither　of　us　there　to　keep　up　her　spirits　or　care　a　bit　about　her。　　She　hasn’t　disgraced　herself；　or　done　anything　to　deserve　that。　　It　is　bad　enough　that　the　wedding　should　be　so　hurried　and　unceremonious；　without　our　keeping　away　from　it　in　addition。　　Upon　my　soul；　‘tis　almost　a　shame。　　I’ll　go。”
“It　is　over　by　this　time；”　said　his　mother　with　a　sigh；
“unless　they　were　late；　or　he—“
“Then　I　shall　be　soon　enough　to　see　them　e　out。　　I　don’t　quite　like　your　keeping　me　in　ignorance；　Mother；　after　all。　　Really；　I　half　hope　he　has　failed　to　meet　her！”
“And　ruined　her　character？”
“Nonsense—that　wouldn’t　ruin　Thomasin。”
He　took　up　his　hat　and　hastily　left　the　house。　　Mrs。　Yeobright　looked　rather　unhappy；　and　sat　still；　deep　in　thought。　　But　she　was　not　long　left　alone。　　A　few　minutes　later　Clym　came　back　again；　and　in　his　pany　came　Diggory　Venn。　
“I　find　there　isn’t　time　for　me　to　get　there；”　said　Clym。
“Is　she　married？”　Mrs。　Yeobright　inquired；　turning　to　the　reddleman　a　face　in　which　a　strange　strife　of　wishes；　for　and　against；　was　apparent。　
Venn　bowed。　　“She　is；　ma’am。”
“How　strange　it　sounds；”　murmured　Clym。　
“And　he　didn’t　disappoint　her　this　time？”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。
“He　did　not。　　And　there　is　now　no　slight　on　her　name。　　I　was　hastening　ath’art　to　tell　you　at　once；　as　I　saw　you　were　not　there。”
“How　came　you　to　be　there？　　How　did　you　know　it？”　she　asked。　
“I　have　been　in　that　neighbourhood　for　some　time；　and　I　saw　them　go　in；”　said　the　reddleman。　　“Wildeve　came　up　to　the　door；　punctual　as　the　clock。　　I　didn’t　expect　it　of　him。”　　He　did　not　add；　as　he　might　have　added；　that　how　he　came　to　be　in　that　neighbourhood　was　not　by　accident；　that；　since　Wildeve’s　resumption　of　his　right　to　Thomasin；　Venn；　with　the　thoroughness　which　was　part　of　his　character；　had　determined　to　see　the　end　of　the　episode。　
“Who　was　there？”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。
“Nobody　hardly。　　I　stood　right　out　of　the　way；　and　she　did　not　see　me。”　　The　reddleman　spoke　huskily；　and　looked　into　the　garden。　
“Who　gave　her　away？”
“Miss　Vye。”
“How　very　remarkable！　Miss　Vye！　It　is　to　be　considered　an　honour；　I　suppose？”
“Who’s　Miss　Vye？”　said　Clym。　
“Captain　Vye’s　granddaughter；　of　Mistover　Knap。”
“A　proud　girl　from　Budmouth；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。　　“One　not　much　to　my　liking。　　People　say　she’s　a　witch；　but　of　course　that’s　absurd。”
The　reddleman　kept　to　himself　his　acquaintance　with　that　fair　personage；　and　also　that　Eustacia　was　there　because　he　went　to　fetch　her；　in　accordance　with　a　promise　he　had　given　as　soon　as　he　learnt　that　the　marriage　was　to　take　place。　　He　merely　said；　in　continuation　of　the　story
“I　was　sitting　on　the　churchyard　wall　when　they　came　up；　one　from　one　way；　the　other　from　the　other；　and　Miss　Vye　was　walking　thereabouts；　looking　at　the　headstones。　　As　soon　as　they　had　gone　in　I　went　to　the　door；　feeling　I　should　like　to　see　it；　as　I　knew　her　so　well。　　I　pulled　off　my　boots　because　they　were　so　noisy；　and　went　up　into　the　gallery。　　I　saw　then　that　the　parson　and　clerk　were　already　there。”
“How　came　Miss　Vye　to　have　anything　to　do　with　it；　if　she　was　only　on　a　walk　that　way？”
“Because　there　was　nobody　else。　　She　had　gone　into　the　church　just　before　me；　not　into　the　gallery。　　The　parson　looked　round　before　beginning；　and　as　she　was　the　only　one　near　he　beckoned　to　her；　and　she　went　up　to　the　rails。　　After　that；　when　it　came　to　signing　the　book；　she　pushed　up　her　veil　and　signed；　and　Tamsin　seemed　to　thank　her　for　her　kindness。”　The　reddleman　told　the　tale　thoughtfully　for　there　lingered　upon　his　vision　the　changing　colour　of　Wildeve；　when　Eustacia　lifted　the　thick　veil　which　had　concealed　her　from　recognition　and　looked　calmly　into　his　face。　　“And　then；”　said　Diggory　sadly；　“I　came　away；　for　her　history　as　Tamsin　Yeobright　was　over。”
“I　offered　to　go；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright　regretfully。　
“But　she　said　it　was　not　necessary。”
“Well；　it　is　no　matter；”　said　the　reddleman。　　“The　thing　is　done　at　last　as　it　was　meant　to　be　at　first；　and　God　send　her　happiness。　　Now　I’ll　wish　you　good　morning。”
He　placed　his　cap　on　his　head　and　went　out。　
From　that　instant　of　leaving　Mrs。　Yeobright’s　door；　the　reddleman　was　seen　no　more　in　or　about　Egdon　Heath　for　a　space　of　many　months。　　He　vanished　entirely。　　The　nook　among　the　brambles　where　his　van　had　been　standing　was　as　vacant　as　ever　the　next　morning；　and　scarcely　a　sign　remained　to　show　that　he　had　been　there；　excepting　a　few　straws；　and　a　little　redness　on　the　turf；　which　was　washed　away　by　the　next　storm　of　rain。　
The　report　that　Diggory　had　brought　of　the　wedding；　correct　as　far　as　it　went；　was　deficient　in　one　significant　particular；　which　had　escaped　him　through　his　being　at　some　distance　back　in　the　church。　　When　Thomasin　was　tremblingly　engaged　in　signing　her　name　Wildeve　had　flung　towards　Eustacia　a　glance　that　said　plainly；　“I　have　punished　you　now。”　　She　had　replied　in　a　low　tone—and　he　little　thought　how　truly—“You　mistake；　it　gives　me　sincerest　pleasure　to　see　her　your　wife　today。”


book　three
THE　FASCINATION


1　… “My　Mind　to　Me　a　Kingdom　Is”


In　Clym　Yeobright’s　face　could　be　dimly　seen　the　typical　countenance　of　the　future。　　Should　there　be　a　classic　period　to　art　hereafter；　its　Pheidias　may　produce　such　faces。　　The　view　of　life　as　a　thing　to　be　put　up　with；　replacing　that　zest　for　existence　which　was　so　intense　in　early　civilizations；　must　ultimately　enter　so　thoroughly　into　the　constitution　of　the　advanced　races　that　its　facial　expression　will　bee　accepted　as　a　new　artistic　departure。　　People　already　feel　that　a　man　who　lives　without　disturbing　a　curve　of　feature；　or　setting　a　mark　of　mental　concern　anywhere　upon　himself；　is　too　far　removed　from　modern　perceptiveness　to　be　a　modern　type。　　Physically　beautiful　men—the　glory　of　the　race　when　it　was　young—are　almost　an　anachronism　now；　and　we　may　wonder　whether；　at　some　time　or　other；　physically　beautiful　women　may　not　be　an　anachronism　likewise。
The　truth　seems　to　be　that　a　long　line　of　disillusive　centuries　has　permanently　displaced　the　Hellenic　idea　of　life；　or　whatever　it　may　be　called。　　What　the　Greeks　only　suspected　we　know　well；　what　their　Aeschylus　imagined　our　nursery　children　feel。　　That　old…fashioned　revelling　in　the　general　situation　grows　less　and　less　possible　as　we　uncover　the　defects　of　natural　laws；　and　see　the　quandary　that　man　is　in　by　their　operation。　
The　lineaments　which　will　get　embodied　in　ideals　based　upon　this　new　recognition　will　probably　be　akin　to　those　of　Yeobright。　　The　observer’s　eye　was　arrested；　not　by　his　face　as　a　picture；　but　by　his　face　as　a　page；　not　by　what　it　was；　but　by　what　it　recorded。　　His　features　were　attractive　in　the　light　of　symbols；　as　sounds　intrinsically　mon　bee　attractive　in　language；　and　as　shapes　intrinsically　simple　bee　interesting　in　writing。　
He　had　been　a　lad　of　whom　something　was　expected。　　Beyond　this　all　had　been　chaos。　　That　he　would　be　successful　in　an　original　way；　or　that　he　would　go　to　the　dogs　in　an　original　way；　seemed　equally　probable。　　The　only　absolute　certainty　about　him　was　that　he　would　not　stand　still　in　the　circumstances　amid　which　he　was　born。　
Hence；　when　his　name　was　casually　mentioned　by　neighbouring　yeomen；　the　listener　said；　“Ah；　Clym　Yeobright—what　is　he　doing　now？”　When　the　instinctive　question　about　a　person　is；　What　is　he　doing？　　it　is　felt　that　he　will　be　found　to　be；　like　most　of　us；　doing　nothing　in　particular。　　There　is　an　indefinite　sense　that　he　must　be　invading　some　region　of　singularity；　good　or　bad。　　The　devout　hope　is　that　he　is　doing　well。　　The　secret　faith　is　that　he　is　making　a　mess　of　it。　　Half　a　dozen　fortable　market…men；　who　were　habitual　callers　at　the　Quiet　Woman　as　they　passed　by　in　their　carts；　we