还乡The Return Of The Native-第7部分

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“He　is　a　man　now；”　she　replied　quietly。
“’Tis　very　lonesome　for　‘ee　in　the　heth　tonight；　mis’ess；”　said　Christian；　ing　from　the　seclusion　he　had　hitherto　maintained。　　“Mind　you　don’t　get　lost。　　Egdon　Heth　is　a　bad　place　to　get　lost　in；　and　the　winds　do　huffle　queerer　tonight　than　ever　I　heard　‘em　afore。　　Them　that　know　Egdon　best　have　been　pixy…led　here　at　times。”
“Is　that　you；　Christian？”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。　
“What　made　you　hide　away　from　me？”
“’Twas　that　I　didn’t　know　you　in　this　light；　mis’ess；　and　being　a　man　of　the　mournfullest　make；　I　was　scared　a　little；　that’s　all。　　Oftentimes　if　you　could　see　how　terrible　down　I　get　in　my　mind；　‘twould　make　‘ee　quite　nervous　for　fear　I　should　die　by　my　hand。”
“You　don’t　take　after　your　father；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright；　looking　towards　the　fire；　where　Grandfer　Cantle；　with　some　want　of　originality；　was　dancing　by　himself　among　the　sparks；　as　the　others　had　done　before。
“Now；　Grandfer；”　said　Timothy　Fairway；　“we　are　ashamed　of　ye。　　A　reverent　old　patriarch　man　as　you　be—seventy　if　a　day—to　go　hornpiping　like　that　by　yourself！”

“A　harrowing　old　man；　Mis’ess　Yeobright；”
said　Christian　despondingly。　　“I　wouldn’t
live　with　him　a　week；　so　playward　as　he　is；　if　I　could　get　away。”

“’Twould　be　more　seemly　in　ye　to　stand　still　and　wele　Mis’ess　Yeobright；　and　you　the　venerablest　here；　Grandfer　Cantle；”　said　the　besom…woman。
“Faith；　and　so　it　would；”　said　the　reveller　checking　himself　repentantly。　　“I’ve　such　a　bad　memory；　Mis’ess　Yeobright；　that　I　forget　how　I’m　looked　up　to　by　the　rest　of　‘em。　My　spirits　must　be　wonderful　good；　you’ll　say？　　But　not　always。　　‘Tis　a　weight　upon　a　man　to　be　looked　up　to　as　mander；　and　I　often　feel　it。”
“I　am　sorry　to　stop　the　talk；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。　　“But　I　must　be　leaving　you　now。　　I　was　passing　down　the　Anglebury　Road；　towards　my　niece’s　new　home；　who　is　returning　tonight　with　her　husband；　and　seeing　the　bonfire　and　hearing　Olly’s　voice　among　the　rest　I　came　up　here　to　learn　what　was　going　on。　　I　should　like　her　to　walk　with　me；　as　her　way　is　mine。”
“Ay；　sure；　ma’am；　I’m　just　thinking　of　moving；”　said　Olly。　
“Why；　you’ll　be　safe　to　meet　the　reddleman　that　I　told　ye　of；”　said　Fairway。　　“He’s　only　gone　back　to　get　his　van。　　We　heard　that　your　niece　and　her　husband　were　ing　straight　home　as　soon　as　they　were　married；　and　we　are　going　down　there　shortly；　to　give　‘em　a　song　o’　wele。”
“Thank　you　indeed；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。　
“But　we　shall　take　a　shorter　cut　through　the　furze　than　you　can　go　with　long　clothes；　so　we　won’t　trouble　you　to　wait。”
“Very　well—are　you　ready；　Olly？”
“Yes；　ma’am。　And　there’s　a　light　shining　from　your　niece’s　window；　see。　　It　will　help　to　keep　us　in　the　path。”
She　indicated　the　faint　light　at　the　bottom　of　the　valley　which　Fairway　had　pointed　out；　and　the　two　women　descended　the　tumulus。　


4　… The　Halt　on　the　Turnpike　Road


Down；　downward　they　went；　and　yet　further　down—their　descent　at　each　step　seeming　to　outmeasure　their　advance。　　Their　skirts　were　scratched　noisily　by　the　furze；　their　shoulders　brushed　by　the　ferns；　which；　though　dead　and　dry；　stood　erect　as　when　alive；　no　sufficient　winter　weather　having　as　yet　arrived　to　beat　them　down。　　Their　Tartarean　situation　might　by　some　have　been　called　an　imprudent　one　for　two　unattended　women。　　But　these　shaggy　recesses　were　at　all　seasons　a　familiar　surrounding　to　Olly　and　Mrs。　Yeobright；　and　the　addition　of　darkness　lends　no　frightfulness　to　the　face　of　a　friend。
“And　so　Tamsin　has　married　him　at　last；”　said　Olly；　when　the　incline　had　bee　so　much　less　steep　that　their　foot…steps　no　longer　required　undivided　attention。　
Mrs。　Yeobright　answered　slowly；　“Yes；　at　last。”
“How　you　will　miss　her—living　with　‘ee　as　a　daughter；　as　she　always　have。”
“I　do　miss　her。”
Olly；　though　without　the　tact　to　perceive　when　remarks　were　untimely；　was　saved　by　her　very　simplicity　from　rendering　them　offensive。　　Questions　that　would　have　been　resented　in　others　she　could　ask　with　impunity。　　This　accounted　for　Mrs。　Yeobright’s　acquiescence　in　the　revival　of　an　evidently　sore　subject。　
“I　was　quite　strook　to　hear　you’d　agreed　to　it；　ma’am；　that　I　was；”　continued　the　besom…maker。
“You　were　not　more　struck　by　it　than　I　should　have　been　last　year　this　time；　Olly。　　There　are　a　good　many　sides　to　that　wedding。　　I　could　not　tell　you　all　of　them；　even　if　I　tried。”
“I　felt　myself　that　he　was　hardly　solid…going　enough　to　mate　with　your　family。　　Keeping　an　inn—what　is　it？　　But　‘a’s　clever；　that’s　true；　and　they　say　he　was　an　engineering　gentleman　once；　but　has　e　down　by　being　too　outwardly　given。”
“I　saw　that；　upon　the　whole；　it　would　be　better　she　should　marry　where　she　wished。”
“Poor　little　thing；　her　feelings　got　the　better　of　her；　no　doubt。　　‘Tis　nature。　　Well；　they　may　call　him　what　they　will—he’ve　several　acres　of　heth…ground　broke　up　here；　besides　the　public　house；　and　the　heth…croppers；　and　his　manners　be　quite　like　a　gentleman’s。　And　what’s　done　cannot　be　undone。”
“It　cannot；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright。　　“See；　here’s　the　wagon…track　at　last。　　Now　we　shall　get　along　better。”
The　wedding　subject　was　no　further　dwelt　upon；　and　soon　a　faint　diverging　path　was　reached；　where　they　parted　pany；　Olly　first　begging　her　panion　to　remind　Mr。　Wildeve　that　he　had　not　sent　her　sick　husband　the　bottle　of　wine　promised　on　the　occasion　of　his　marriage。　　The　besom…maker　turned　to　the　left　towards　her　own　house；　behind　a　spur　of　the　hill；　and　Mrs。　Yeobright　followed　the　straight　track；　which　further　on　joined　the　highway　by　the　Quiet　Woman　Inn；　whither　she　supposed　her　niece　to　have　returned　with　Wildeve　from　their　wedding　at　Anglebury　that　day。　
She　first　reached　Wildeve’s　Patch；　as　it　was　called；　a　plot　of　land　redeemed　from　the　heath；　and　after　long　and　laborious　years　brought　into　cultivation。　　The　man　who　had　discovered　that　it　could　be　tilled　died　of　the　labour；　the　man　who　succeeded　him　in　possession　ruined　himself　in　fertilizing　it。　　Wildeve　came　like　Amerigo　Vespucci；　and　received　the　honours　due　to　those　who　had　gone　before。　
When　Mrs。　Yeobright　had　drawn　near　to　the　inn；　and　was　about　to　enter；　she　saw　a　horse　and　vehicle　some　two　hundred　yards　beyond　it；　ing　towards　her；　a　man　walking　alongside　with　a　lantern　in　his　hand。　　It　was　soon　evident　that　this　was　the　reddleman　who　had　inquired　for　her。　　Instead　of　entering　the　inn　at　once；　she　walked　by　it　and　towards　the　van。　
The　conveyance　came　close；　and　the　man　was　about　to　pass　her　with　little　notice；　when　she　turned　to　him　and　said；　“I　think　you　have　been　inquiring　for　me？　　I　am　Mrs。　Yeobright　of　Blooms…End。”
The　reddleman　started；　and　held　up　his　finger。　　He　stopped　the　horses；　and　beckoned　to　her　to　withdraw　with　him　a　few　yards　aside；　which　she　did；　wondering。　
“You　don’t　know　me；　ma’am；　I　suppose？”　he　said。
“I　do　not；”　said　she。　　“Why；　yes；　I　do！　You　are　young　Venn—your　father　was　a　dairyman　somewhere　here？”
“Yes；　and　I　knew　your　niece；　Miss　Tamsin；　a　little。　
I　have　something　bad　to　tell　you。”
“About　her—no！　She　has　just　e　home；　I　believe；　with　her　husband。　　They　arranged　to　return　this　afternoon—to　the　inn　beyond　here。”
“She’s　not　there。”
“How　do　you　know？”
“Because　she’s　here。　　She’s　in　my　van；”　he　added　slowly。　
“What　new　trouble　has　e？”　murmured　Mrs。　Yeobright；　putting　her　hand　over　her　eyes。　
“I　can’t　explain　much；　ma’am。　All　I　know　is　that；　as　I　was　going　along　the　road　this　morning；　about　a　mile　out　of　Anglebury；　I　heard　something　trotting　after　me　like　a　doe；　and　looking　round　there　she　was；　white　as　death　itself。　　‘Oh；　Diggory　Venn！’　she　said；　‘I　thought　‘twas　you—will　you　help　me？　　I　am　in　trouble。’”
“How　did　she　know　your　Christian　name？”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright　doubtingly。
“I　had　met　her　as　a　lad　before　I　went　away　in　this　trade。　　She　asked　then　if　she　might　ride；　and　then　down　she　fell　in　a　faint。　　I　picked　her　up　and　put　her　in；　and　there　she　has　been　ever　since。　　She　has　cried　a　good　deal；　but　she　has　hardly　spoke；　all　she　has　told　me　being　that　she　was　to　have　been　married　this　morning。　　I　tried　to　get　her　to　eat　something；　but　she　couldn’t；　and　at　last　she　fell　asleep。”
“Let　me　see　her　at　once；”　said　Mrs。　Yeobright；　hastening　towards　the　van。　
The　reddleman　followed　with　the　lantern；　and；　stepping　up　first；　assisted　Mrs。　Yeobright　to　mount　beside　him。　　On　the　door　being　opened　she　perceived　at　the　end　of　the　van　an　extemporized　couch；　around　which　was　hung　apparently　all　the　drapery　that　the　reddleman　possessed；　to　keep　the　occupant　of　the　little　couch　from　contact　with　the　red　materials　of　his　trade。　　A　young　girl　lay　thereon；　covered　with　a　cloak。　　She　was　asleep；　and　the　light　of　the　lantern　fell　upon　her　features。　
A　fair；　sweet；　and　honest　country　face　was　revealed；　reposing　in　a　nest　of　wavy　chestnut　hair。　　It　was　between　pretty　and　beautiful。　　Though　her　eyes　were　closed；　one　could　easily　imagine　the　light　necessarily　shining　in　them　as　the　culmination　of　the　luminous　workmanship　around。　　The　groundwork　of　the　face　was　hopefulness；　but　over　it　now　I　ay　like　a　foreign　substance　a　film　of　anxiety　and　grief。　　The　grief　had　been　there　so　shortly　as　to　have　abstracted　nothing　of　the　bloom；　and　had　as　yet　but　given　a　dignity　to　what　it　might　eventually　undermine。　　The　scarlet　of　her　lips　had　not　had　time　to　abate；　and　just　now　it　appeared　still　more　intense　by　the　absence　of　the　neighbouring　and　more　transient　colour　of　her　cheek。　　The　lips　frequently　parted；　with　a　murmur　of　words。　　She　seemed　to　belong　rightly　to　a　madrigal—to　require　viewing　through　rhyme　and　harmony。　
One　thing　at　least　was　obvious：　she　was　not　made　to　be　looked　at　thus。　　The　reddleman　had　appeared　conscious　of　as　much；　and；　while　Mrs。　Yeobright　looked　in　upon　her；　he　cast　his　eyes　aside　with　a　delicacy　which　well　became　him。　　The　sleeper　apparently　thought　so　too；　for　the　next　moment　she　opened　her　own。　
The　lips　then　parted　with　something　of　anticipation；　something　more　of　doubt；　and　her　several　thoughts　and　fractions　of　thoughts；　as　signalled　by　the　changes　on　her　face；　were　exhibited　by　the　light　to　the　utmost　nicety。　　An　ingenuous；　transparent　life　was　disclosed；　as　if　the　flo