the well-beloved--a sketch of a temperament-第15部分

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had　then　deemed　the　abode　of　unpleasant　ghosts。



2。　VI。　　THE　PAST　SHINES　IN　THE　PRESENT

It　was　the　evening　of　Pierston's　arrival　at　Sylvania　Castle；　a
dignified　manor…house　in　a　nook　by　the　cliffs；　with　modern
castellations　and　battlements；　and　he　had　walked　through　the　rooms；
about　the　lawn；　and　into　the　surrounding　plantation　of　elms；　which　on
this　island　of　treeless　rock　lent　a　unique　character　to　the　enclosure。
In　name；　nature；　and　accessories　the　property　within　the　girdling　wall
formed　a　complete　antithesis　to　everything　in　its　precincts。　　To　find
other　trees　between　Pebble…bank　and　Beal；　it　was　necessary　to　recede　a
little　in　timeto　dig　down　to　a　loose　stratum　of　the　underlying　stone…
beds；　where　a　forest　of　conifers　lay　as　petrifactions；　their　heads　all
in　one　direction；　as　blown　down　by　a　gale　in　the　Secondary　geologic
epoch。

Dusk　had　closed　in；　and　he　now　proceeded　with　what　was；　after　all；　the
real　business　of　his　sojourn。　　The　two　servants　who　had　been　left　to
take　care　of　the　house　were　in　their　own　quarters；　and　he　went　out
unobserved。　　Crossing　a　hollow　overhung　by　the　budding　boughs　he
approached　an　empty　garden…house　of　Elizabethan　design；　which　stood　on
the　outer　wall　of　the　grounds；　and　commanded　by　a　window　the　fronts　of
the　nearest　cottages。　　Among　them　was　the　home　of　the　resuscitated
Avice。

He　had　chosen　this　moment　for　his　outlook　through　knowing　that　the
villagers　were　in　no　hurry　to　pull　down　their　blinds　at　nightfall。
And；　as　he　had　divined；　the　inside　of　the　young　woman's　living…room　was
visible　to　him　as　formerly；　illuminated　by　the　rays　of　its　own　lamp。

A　subdued　thumping　came　every　now　and　then　from　the　apartment。　　She　was
ironing　linen　on　a　flannel　table…cloth；　a　row　of　such　apparel　hanging
on　a　clothes…horse　by　the　fire。　　Her　face　had　been　pale　when　he
encountered　her；　but　now　it　was　warm　and　pink　with　her　exertions　and
the　heat　of　the　stove。　　Yet　it　was　in　perfect　and　passionless　repose；
which　imparted　a　Minerva　cast　to　the　profile。　　When　she　glanced　up；　her
lineaments　seemed　to　have　all　the　soul　and　heart　that　had　characterized
her　mother's；　and　had　been　with　her　a　true　index　of　the　spirit　within。
Could　it　be　possible　that　in　this　case　the　manifestation　was
fictitious？　　He　had　met　with　many　such　examples　of　hereditary
persistence　without　the　qualities　signified　by　the　traits。　　He
unconsciously　hoped　that　it　was　at　least　not　entirely　so　here。

The　room　was　less　furnished　than　when　he　had　last　beheld　it。　　The　'bo…
fet；'　or　double　corner…cupboard；　where　the　china　was　formerly　kept；　had
disappeared；　its　place　being　taken　by　a　plain　board。　　The　tall　old
clock；　with　its　ancient　oak　carcase；　arched　brow；　and　humorous　mouth；
was　also　not　to　be　seen；　a　cheap；　white…dialled　specimen　doing　its
work。　　What　these　displacements　might　betoken　saddened　his　humanity
less　than　it　cheered　his　primitive　instinct　in　pointing　out　how　her
necessities　might　bring　them　together。

Having　fixed　his　residence　near　her　for　some　lengthy　time　he　felt　in　no
hurry　to　obtrude　his　presence　just　now；　and　went　indoors。　　That　this
girl's　frame　was　doomed　to　be　a　real　embodiment　of　that　olden　seductive
onethat　Protean　dream…creature；　who　had　never　seen　fit　to　irradiate
the　mother's　image　till　it　became　a　mere　memory　after　dissolutionhe
doubted　less　every　moment。

There　was　an　uneasiness　in　recognizing　such。　　There　was　something
abnormal　in　his　present　proclivity。　　A　certain　sanity　had；　after　all；
accompanied　his　former　idealizing　passions：　　the　Beloved　had　seldom
informed　a　personality　which；　while　enrapturing　his　soul；
simultaneously　shocked　his　intellect。　　A　change；　perhaps；　had　come。

It　was　a　fine　morning　on　the　morrow。　　Walking　in　the　grounds　towards
the　gate　he　saw　Avice　entering　his　hired　castle　with　a　broad　oval
wicker…basket　covered　with　a　white　cloth；　which　burden　she　bore　round
to　the　back　door。　　Of　course；　she　washed　for　his　own　household：　　he　had
not　thought　of　that。　　In　the　morning　sunlight　she　appeared　rather　as　a
sylph　than　as　a　washerwoman；　and　he　could　not　but　think　that　the
slightness　of　her　figure　was　as　ill　adapted　to　this　occupation　as　her
mother's　had　been。

But；　after　all；　it　was　not　the　washerwoman　that　he　saw　now。　　In　front
of　her；　on　the　surface　of　her；　was　shining　out　that　more　real；　more
inter…penetrating　being　whom　he　knew　so　well！　　The　occupation　of　the
subserving　minion；　the　blemishes　of　the　temporary　creature　who　formed
the　background；　were　of　the　same　account　in　the　presentation　of　the
indispensable　one　as　the　supporting　posts　and　framework　in　a
pyrotechnic　display。

She　left　the　house　and　went　homeward　by　a　path　of　which　he　was　not
aware；　having　probably　changed　her　course　because　she　had　seen　him
standing　there。　　It　meant　nothing；　for　she　had　hardly　become　acquainted
with　him；　yet　that　she　should　have　avoided　him　was　a　new　experience。
He　had　no　opportunity　for　a　further　study　of　her　by　distant
observation；　and　hit　upon　a　pretext　for　bringing　her　face　to　face　with
him。　　He　found　fault　with　his　linen；　and　directed　that　the　laundress
should　be　sent　for。

'She　is　rather　young；　poor　little　thing；'　said　the　housemaid
apologetically。　　'But　since　her　mother's　death　she　has　enough　to　do　to
keep　above　water；　and　we　make　shift　with　her。　　But　I'll　tell　her；　sir。'

'I　will　see　her　myself。　　Send　her　in　when　she　comes；'　said　Pierston。

One　morning；　accordingly；　when　he　was　answering　a　spiteful　criticism　of
a　late　work　of　his；　he　was　told　that　she　waited　his　pleasure　in　the
hall。　　He　went　out。

'About　the　washing；'　said　the　sculptor　stiffly。　　'I　am　a　very
particular　person；　and　I　wish　no　preparation　of　lime　to　be　used。'

'I　didn't　know　folks　used　it；'　replied　the　maiden；　in　a　scared　and
reserved　tone；　without　looking　at　him。

'That's　all　right。　　And　then；　the　mangling　smashes　the　buttons。'

'I　haven't　got　a　mangle；　sir；'　she　murmured。

'Ah！　that's　satisfactory。　　And　I　object　to　so　much　borax　in　the
starch。'

'I　don't　put　any；'　Avice　returned　in　the　same　close　way；　'never　heard
the　name　o't　afore！'

'O　I　see。'

All　this　time　Pierston　was　thinking　of　the　girlor　as　the　scientific
might　say；　Nature　was　working　her　plans　for　the　next　generation　under
the　cloak　of　a　dialogue　on　linen。　　He　could　not　read　her　individual
character；　owing　to　the　confusing　effect　of　her　likeness　to　a　woman
whom　he　had　valued　too　late。　　He　could　not　help　seeing　in　her　all　that
he　knew　of　another；　and　veiling　in　her　all　that　did　not　harmonize　with
his　sense　of　metempsychosis。

The　girl　seemed　to　think　of　nothing　but　the　business　in　hand。　　She　had
answered　to　the　point；　and　was　hardly　aware　of　his　sex　or　of　his　shape。

'I　knew　your　mother；　Avice；'　he　said。　　'You　remember　my　telling　you
so？'

'Yes。'

'WellI　have　taken　this　house　for　two　or　three　months；　and　you　will　be
very　useful　to　me。　　You　still　live　just　outside　the　wall？'

'Yes；　sir；'　said　the　self…contained　girl。

Demurely　and　dispassionately　she　turned　to　leavethis　pretty　creature
with　features　so　still。　　There　was　something　strange　in　seeing　move　off
thus　that　form　which　he　knew　passing　well；　she　who　was　once　so
throbbingly　alive　to　his　presence　that；　not　many　yards　from　this　spot；
she　had　flung　her　arms　round　him　and　given　him　a　kiss　which；　despised
in　its　freshness；　had　revived　in　him　latterly　as　the　dearest　kiss　of
all　his　life。　　And　now　this　'daps'　of　her　mother　（as　they　called　her　in
the　dialect　here）；　this　perfect　copy；　why　did　she　turn　away？

'Your　mother　was　a　refined　and　well…informed　woman；　I　think　I
remember？'

'She　was；　sir；　everybody　said　so。'

'I　hope　you　resemble　her。'

She　archly　shook　her　head；　and　drew　warily　away。

'O！　one　thing　more；　Avice。　　I　have　not　brought　much　linen；　so　you　must
come　to　the　house　every　day。'

'Very　good；　sir。'

'You　won't　forget　that？'

'O　no。'

Then　he　let　her　go。　　He　was　a　town　man；　and　she　an　artless　islander；
yet　he　had　opened　himself　out；　like　a　sea…anemone；　without　disturbing
the　epiderm　of　her　nature。　　It　was　monstrous　that　a　maiden　who　had
assumed　the　personality　of　her　of　his　tenderest　memory　should　be　so
impervious。　　Perhaps　it　was　he　who　was　wanting。　　Avice　might　be　Passion
masking　as　Indifference；　because　he　was　so　many　years　older　in　outward
show。

This　brought　him　to　the　root　of　it。　　In　his　heart　he　was　not　a　day
older　than　when　he　had　wooed　the　mother　at　the　daughter's　present　age。
His　record　moved　on　with　the　years；　his　sentiments　stood　still。

When　he　beheld　those　of　his　fellows　who　were　defined　as　buffers　and
fogeysimperturbable；　matter…of…fact；　slightly　ridiculous　beings；　past
masters　in　the　art　of　populating　homes；　schools；　and　colleges；　and
present　adepts　in　the　science　of　giving　away　brideshow　he　envied
them；　assuming　them　to　feel　as　they　appeared　to　feel；　with　their
commerce　and　their　politics；　their　glasses　and　their　pipes。　　They　had
got　past　the　distracting　currents　of　passionateness；　and　were　in　the
calm　waters　of　middle…aged　philosophy。　　But　he；　their　contemporary；　was
tossed　like　a　cork　hither　and　thither　upon　the　crest　of　every　fancy；
precisely　as　he　had　been　tossed　when　he　was　half　his　present　age；　with
the　burden　now　of　double　pain　to　himself　in　his　growing　vision　of　all
as　vanity。

Avice　had　gone；　and　he　saw　her　no　more　that　day。　　Since　he　could　not
again　call　upon　her；　she　was　as　inaccessible　as　if　she　had　entered　the
military　citadel　on　the　hill…top　beyond　them。

In　the　evening　he　went　out　and　paced　down　the　lane　to　the　Red　King's
castle　overhanging　the　cliff；　beside　whose　age　the　castle　he　occupied
was　but　a　thing　of　yesterday。　　Below　the　castle　precipice　lay　enormous
blocks；　which　had　fallen　from　it；　and　several　of　them　were　carved　over
with　names　and　initials。　　He　knew　the　spot　and　the　old　trick　well；　and
by　searching　in　the　faint　moon…rays　he　found　a　pair　of　names　which；　as
a　boy；　he　himself　had　cut。　　They　were　'AVICE'　and　'JOCELYN'Avice
Caro's　and　his　own。　　The　letters　were　now　nearly　worn　away　by　the
weather　and　the　brine。　　But　close　by；　in　quite　fresh　letters；　stood
'ANN　AVICE；'　coupled　with　the　name　'ISAAC。'　　They　could　not　have　been
there　more　than　two　or　three　years；　and　the　'Ann　Avice'　was　probably
Avic