the well-beloved--a sketch of a temperament-第26部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！



Passing　round　the　walls　of　the　new　castle　he　deviated　from　his　homeward
track　by　turning　down　the　familiar　little　lane　which　led　to　the　ruined
castle　of　the　Red　King。　　It　took　him　past　the　cottage　in　which　the　new
Avice　was　born；　from　whose　precincts　he　had　heard　her　first　infantine
cry。　　Pausing　he　saw　near　the　west　behind　him　the　new　moon　growing
distinct　upon　the　glow。

He　was　subject　to　gigantic　fantasies　still。　　In　spite　of　himself；　the
sight　of　the　new　moon；　as　representing　one　who；　by　her　so…called
inconstancy；　acted　up　to　his　own　idea　of　a　migratory　Well…Beloved；　made
him　feel　as　if　his　wraith　in　a　changed　sex　had　suddenly　looked　over　the
horizon　at　him。　　In　a　crowd　secretly；　or　in　solitude　boldly；　he　had
often　bowed　the　knee　three　times　to　this　sisterly　divinity　on　her　first
appearance　monthly；　and　directed　a　kiss　towards　her　shining　shape。　　The
curse　of　his　qualities　（if　it　were　not　a　blessing）　was　far　from　having
spent　itself　yet。

In　the　other　direction　the　castle　ruins　rose　square　and　dusky　against
the　sea。　　He　went　on　towards　these；　around　which　he　had　played　as　a
boy；　and　stood　by　the　walls　at　the　edge　of　the　cliff　pondering。　　There
was　no　wind　and　but　little　tide；　and　he　thought　he　could　hear　from
years　ago　a　voice　that　he　knew。　　It　certainly　was　a　voice；　but　it　came
from　the　rocks　beneath　the　castle　ruin。

'Mrs。　Atway！'

A　silence　followed；　and　nobody　came。　　The　voice　spoke　again；　'John
Stoney！'

Neither　was　this　summons　attended　to。　　The　cry　continued；　with　more
entreaty：　　'William　Scribben！'

The　voice　was　that　of　a　Pierstonthere　could　be　no　doubt　of　ityoung
Avice's；　surely？　　Something　or　other　seemed　to　be　detaining　her　down
there　against　her　will。　　A　sloping　path　beneath　the　beetling　cliff　and
the　castle　walls　rising　sheer　from　its　summit；　led　down　to　the　lower
level　whence　the　voice　proceeded。　　Pierston　followed　the　pathway；　and
soon　beheld　a　girl　in　light　clothingthe　same　he　had　seen　through　the
windowstanding　upon　one　of　the　rocks；　apparently　unable　to　move。
Pierston　hastened　across　to　her。

'O；　thank　you　for　coming！'　she　murmured　with　some　timidity。　　'I　have
met　with　an　awkward　mishap。　　I　live　near　here；　and　am　not　frightened
really。　　My　foot　has　become　jammed　in　a　crevice　of　the　rock；　and　I
cannot　get　it　out；　try　how　I　will。　　What　SHALL　I　do！'

Jocelyn　stooped　and　examined　the　cause　of　discomfiture。　　'I　think　if
you　can　take　your　boot　off；'　he　said；　'your　foot　might　slip　out；
leaving　the　boot　behind。'

She　tried　to　act　upon　this　advice；　but　could　not　do　so　effectually。
Pierston　then　experimented　by　slipping　his　hand　into　the　crevice　till
he　could　just　reach　the　buttons　of　her　boot；　which；　however；　he　could
not　unfasten　any　more　than　she。　　Taking　his　penknife　from　his　pocket　he
tried　again；　and　cut　off　the　buttons　one　by　one。　　The　boot　unfastened；
and　out　slipped　the　foot。

'O；　how　glad　I　am！'　she　cried　joyfully。　　'I　was　fearing　I　should　have
to　stay　here　all　night。　　How　can　I　thank　you　enough？'

He　was　tugging　to　withdraw　the　boot；　but　no　skill　that　he　could
exercise　would　move　it　without　tearing。　　At　last　she　said：　　'Don't　try
any　longer。　　It　is　not　far　to　the　house。　　I　can　walk　in　my　stocking。'

'I'll　assist　you　in；'　he　said。

She　said　she　did　not　want　help；　nevertheless　allowed　him　to　help　her　on
the　unshod　side。　　As　they　moved　on　she　explained　that　she　had　come　out
through　the　garden　door；　had　been　standing　on　the　boulders　to　look　at
something　out　at　sea　just　discernible　in　the　evening　light　as　assisted
by　the　moon；　and；　in　jumping　down；　had　wedged　her　foot　as　he　had　found
it。

Whatever　Pierston's　years　might　have　made　him　look　by　day；　in　the　dusk
of　evening　he　was　fairly　presentable　as　a　pleasing　man　of　no　marked
antiquity；　his　outline　differing　but　little　from　what　it　had　been　when
he　was　half　his　years。　　He　was　well　preserved；　still　upright；　trimly
shaven；　agile　in　movement；　wore　a　tightly　buttoned　suit　which　set　of　a
naturally　slight　figure；　in　brief；　he　might　have　been　of　any　age　as　he
appeared　to　her　at　this　moment。　　She　talked　to　him　with　the　co…equality
of　one　who　assumed　him　to　be　not　far　ahead　of　her　own　generation；　and；
as　the　growing　darkness　obscured　him　more　and　more；　he　adopted　her
assumption　of　his　age　with　increasing　boldness　of　tone。

The　flippant；　harmless　freedom　of　the　watering…place　Miss；　which　Avice
had　plainly　acquired　during　her　sojourn　at　the　Sandbourne　school；
helped　Pierston　greatly　in　this　role　of　jeune　premier　which　he　was　not
unready　to　play。　　Not　a　word　did　he　say　about　being　a　native　of　the
island；　still　more　carefully　did　he　conceal　the　fact　of　his　having
courted　her　grandmother；　and　engaged　himself　to　marry　that　attractive
lady。

He　found　that　she　had　come　out　upon　the　rocks　through　the　same　little
private　door　from　the　lawn　of　the　modern　castle　which　had　frequently
afforded　him　egress　to　the　same　spot　in　years　long　past。　　Pierston
accompanied　her　across　the　grounds　almost　to　the　entrance　of　the
mansionthe　place　being　now　far　better　kept　and　planted　than　when　he
had　rented　it　as　a　lonely　tenant；　almost；　indeed；　restored　to　the　order
and　neatness　which　had　characterized　it　when　he　was　a　boy。

Like　her　granny　she　was　too　inexperienced　to　be　reserved；　and　during
this　little　climb；　leaning　upon　his　arm；　there　was　time　for　a　great
deal　of　confidence。　　When　he　had　bidden　her　farewell；　and　she　had
entered；　leaving　him　in　the　dark；　a　rush　of　sadness　through　Pierston's
soul　swept　down　all　the　temporary　pleasure　he　had　found　in　the　charming
girl's　company。　　Had　Mephistopheles　sprung　from　the　ground　there　and
then　with　an　offer　to　Jocelyn　of　restoration　to　youth　on　the　usual
terms　of　his　firm；　the　sculptor　might　have　consented　to　sell　a　part　of
himself　which　he　felt　less　immediate　need　of　than　of　a　ruddy　lip　and
cheek　and　an　unploughed　brow。

But　what　could　only　have　been　treated　as　a　folly　by　outsiders　was
almost　a　sorrow　for　him。　　Why　was　he　born　with　such　a　temperament？　　And
this　concatenated　interest　could　hardly　have　arisen；　even　with
Pierston；　but　for　a　conflux　of　circumstances　only　possible　here。　　The
three　Avices；　the　second　something　like　the　first；　the　third　a
glorification　of　the　first；　at　all　events　externally；　were　the　outcome
of　the　immemorial　island　customs　of　intermarriage　and　of　prenuptial
union；　under　which　conditions　the　type　of　feature　was　almost　uniform
from　parent　to　child　through　generations：　　so　that；　till　quite
latterly；　to　have　seen　one　native　man　and　woman　was　to　have　seen　the
whole　population　of　that　isolated　rock；　so　nearly　cut　off　from　the
mainland。　　His　own　predisposition　and　the　sense　of　his　early
faithlessness　did　all　the　rest。

He　turned　gloomily　away；　and　let　himself　out　of　the　precincts。　　Before
walking　along　the　couple　of　miles　of　road　which　would　conduct　him　to
the　little　station　on　the　shore；　he　redescended　to　the　rocks　whereon　he
had　found　her；　and　searched　about　for　the　fissure　which　had　made　a
prisoner　of　this　terribly　belated　edition　of　the　Beloved。　　Kneeling
down　beside　the　spot　he　inserted　his　hand；　and　ultimately；　by　much
wriggling；　withdrew　the　pretty　boot。　　He　mused　over　it　for　a　moment；
put　it　in　his　pocket；　and　followed　the　stony　route　to　the　Street　of
Wells。



3。　III。　　THE　RENEWED　IMAGE　BURNS　ITSELF　IN

There　was　nothing　to　hinder　Pierston　in　calling　upon　the　new　Avice's
mother　as　often　as　he　should　choose；　beyond　the　five　miles　of
intervening　railway　and　additional　mile　or　two　of　clambering　over　the
heights　of　the　island。　　Two　days　later；　therefore；　he　repeated　his
journey　and　knocked　about　tea…time　at　the　widow's　door。

As　he　had　feared；　the　daughter　was　not　at　home。　　He　sat　down　beside　the
old　sweetheart　who；　having　eclipsed　her　mother　in　past　days；　had　now
eclipsed　herself　in　her　child。　　Jocelyn　produced　the　girl's　boot　from
his　pocket。

'Then；　'tis　YOU　who　helped　Avice　out　of　her　predicament？'　said　Mrs。
Pierston；　with　surprise。

'Yes；　my　dear　friend；　and　perhaps　I　shall　ask　you　to　help　me　out　of
mine　before　I　have　done。　　But　never　mind　that　now。　　What　did　she　tell
you　about　the　adventure？'

Mrs。　Pierston　was　looking　thoughtfully　upon　him。　　'Well；　'tis　rather
strange　it　should　have　been　you；　sir；'　she　replied。　　She　seemed　to　be　a
good　deal　interested。　　'I　thought　it　might　have　been　a　younger　mana
much　younger　man。'

'It　might　have　been　as　far　as　feelings　were　concerned。　。　。　。　　Now；
Avice；　I'll　to　the　point　at　once。　　Virtually　I　have　known　your　daughter
any　number　of　years。　　When　I　talk　to　her　I　can　anticipate　every　turn　of
her　thought；　every　sentiment；　every　act；　so　long　did　I　study　those
things　in　your　mother　and　in　you。　　Therefore　I　do　not　require　to　learn
her；　she　was　learnt　by　me　in　her　previous　existences。　　Now；　don't　be
shocked：　　I　am　willing　to　marry　herI　should　be　overjoyed　to　do　it；　if
there　would　be　nothing　preposterous　about　it；　or　that　would　seem　like　a
man　making　himself　too　much　of　a　fool；　and　so　degrading　her　in
consenting。　　I　can　make　her　comparatively　rich；　as　you　know；　and　I
would　indulge　her　every　whim。　　There　is　the　idea；　bluntly　put。　　It
would　set　right　something　in　my　mind　that　has　been　wrong　for　forty
years。　　After　my　death　she　would　have　plenty　of　freedom　and　plenty　of
means　to　enjoy　it。'

Mrs。　Isaac　Pierston　seemed　only　a　little　surprised；　certainly　not
shocked。

'Well；　if　I　didn't　think　you　might　be　a　bit　taken　with　her！'　she　said
with　an　arch　simplicity　which　could　hardly　be　called　unaffected。
'Knowing　the　set　of　your　mind；　from　my　little　time　with　you　years　ago；
nothing　you　could　do　in　this　way　would　astonish　me。'

'But　you　don't　think　badly　of　me　for　it？'

'Not　at　all。　。　。　。　　By…the…bye；　did　you　ever　guess　why　I　asked　you　to
come？。　。　。　　But　never　mind　it　now：　　the　matter　is　past。　。　。　。　　Of
course；　it　would　depend　upon　what　Avice　felt。　。　。　。　　Perhaps　she　would
rather　marry　a　younger　man。'

'And　suppose　a　satisfactory　younger　man　should　not　appear？'

Mrs。　Pierston　showed　in　her　face　that　she　fully　recognized　the
difference　between　a　rich　bird　in　hand　and　a　young　bird　in　the　bush。
She　looked　him　curiously　up　and　down。

'I　know　you　would　make　anybody　a　very　nice　husband；'　she　said。　　'I　know
that　you　would　be　nice