the dwelling place of ligh-第74部分

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insistent。　　Insall　and　her　Silliston　neighbours　were　wont；　indeed；　gently
to　rally　her　on　her　enthusiams；　while　understanding　and　sympathizing　with
this　need　in　her。　　A　creature　of　intuition；　Janet　had　appealed　to　her
from　the　beginning；　arousing　first　her　curiosity；　and　then　the　maternal
instinct　that　craved　a　mind　to　mould；　a　soul　to　respond　to　her　touch。。。。

Mrs。　Maturin　often　talked　to　Janet　of　Insall；　who　had；　in　a　way；　long
been　connected　with　Silliston。　　In　his　early　wandering　days；　when
tramping　over　New　England；　he　used　unexpectedly　to　turn　up　at　Dr。
Ledyard's；　the　principal's；　remain　for　several　weeks　and　disappear　again。
Even　then　he；　had　been　a　sort　of　institution；　a　professor　emeritus　in
botany；　bird　lore；　and　woodcraft；　taking　the　boys　on　long　walks　through
the　neighbouring　hills；　and　suddenly　he　had　surprised　everybody　by
fancying　the　tumble…down　farmhouse　in　Judith's　Lane；　which　he　had
restored　with　his　own　hands　into　the　quaintest　of　old　world　dwellings。
Behind　it　he　had　made　a　dam　in　the　brook；　and　put　in　a　water　wheel　that
ran　his　workshop。　　In　play　hours　the　place　was　usually　overrun　by
boys。。。。　　But　sometimes　the　old　craving　for　tramping　would　overtake　him；
one　day　his　friends　would　find　the　house　shut　up；　and　he　would　be　absent
for　a　fortnight；　perhaps　for　a　monthone　never　knew　when　he　was　going；
or　when　he　would　return。　　He　went；　like　his　hero；　Silas　Simpkins；　through
the　byways　of　New　England；　stopping　at　night　at　the　farm…houses；　or　often
sleeping　out　under　the　stars。　　And　then；　perhaps；　he　would　write　another
book。　　He　wrote　only　when　he　felt　like　writing。

It　was　this　book　of　Insall's；　〃The　Travels　of　Silas　Simpkins；〃rather　than
his　〃Epworth　Green〃　or　〃The　Hermit　of　Blue　Mountain；〃　that　Mrs。　Maturin
chose　to　read　to　Janet。　　Unlike　the　sage　of　Walden；　than　whom　he　was　more
gregarious；　instead　of　a　log　house　for　his　castle　Silas　Simpkins　chose　a
cart；　which　he　drove　in　a　most　leisurely　manner　from　the　sea　to　the
mountains；　penetrating　even　to　hamlets　beside　the　silent　lakes　on　the
Canadian　border；　and　then　went　back　to　the　sea　again。　　Two　chunky　grey
horses　with　wide　foreheads　and　sagacious　eyes　propelled　him　at　the　rate
of　three　miles　an　hour；　for　these；　as　their　master；　had　learned　the
lesson　that　if　life　is　to　be　fully　savoured　it　is　not　to　be　bolted。
Silas　cooked　and　ate；　and　sometimes　read　under　the　maples　beside　the
stone　walls：　usually　he　slept　in　the　cart　in　the　midst　of　the　assortment
of　goods　that　proclaimed　him；　to　the　astute；　an　expert　in　applied
psychology。　　At　first　you　might　have　thought　Silos　merely　a　peddler；　but
if　you　knew　your　Thoreau　you　would　presently　begin　to　perceive　that
peddling　was　the　paltry　price　he　paid　for　liberty。　　Silos　was　in　a　way　a
sagebut　such　a　human　sage！　　He　never　intruded　with　theories；　he　never
even　hinted　at　the　folly　of　the　mortals　who　bought　or　despised　his　goods；
or　with　whom　he　chatted　by　the　wayside；　though　he　may　have　had　his　ideas
on　the　subject：　it　is　certain　that　presently　one　began　to　have　one's　own：
nor　did　he　exclaim　with　George　Sand；　〃　Il　n'y　a　rien　de　plus　betement
mechant　que　l'habitant　des　petites　villes！〃　　Somehow　the　meannesses　and
jealousies　were　accounted　for；　if　not　excused。　　To　understand　is　to
pardon。

It　was　so　like　Insall；　this　book；　in　its　whimsicality；　in　its　feeling　of
space　and　freedom；　in　its　hidden　wisdom　that　gradually　revealed　itself　as
one　thought　it　over　before　falling　off　to　sleep！　　New　England　in　the
early　summer！　　Here；　beside　the　tender　greens　of　the　Ipswich　downs　was
the　sparkling　cobalt　of　the　sea；　and　she　could　almost　smell　its　cool　salt
breath　mingling　with　the　warm　odours　of　hay　and　the　pungent　scents　of
roadside　flowers。　　Weathered　grey　cottages　were　scattered　over　the
landscape；　and　dark　copses　of　cedars；　while　oceanward　the　eye　was　caught
by　the　gleam　of　a　lighthouse　or　a　lonely　sail。

Even　in　that　sandy　plain；　covered　with　sickly；　stunted　pines　and　burned
patches；　stretching　westward　from　the　Merrimac；　Silas　saw　beauty　and
colour；　life　in　the　once　prosperous　houses　not　yet　abandoned。。。。
Presently；　the　hills；　all　hyacinth　blue；　rise　up　against　the　sunset；　and
the　horses'　feet　are　on　the　〃Boston　Road〃or　rud；　according　to　the
authorized　pronunciation　of　that　land。　　Hardly；　indeed；　in　many　places；　a
〃rud〃　to…day；　reverting　picturesquely　into　the　forest　trail　over　which
the　early　inland　settlers　rode　their　horses　or　drove　their　oxen　with
upcountry　produce　to　the　sea。　　They　were　not　a　people　who　sought　the
easiest　way；　and　the　Boston　Road　reflects　their　characters：　few　valleys
are　deep　enough　to　turn　it　aside；　few　mountains　can　appal　it：　railroads
have　given　it　a　wide　berth。　　Here　and　there　the　forest　opens　out　to
reveal；　on　a　knoll　or　〃flat；〃　a　forgotten　village　or　tavern…stand。　　Over
the　high　shelf　of　Washington　Town　it　runs　where　the　air　is　keen　and　the
lakes　are　blue；　where　long…stemmed　wild　flowers　nod　on　its　sunny　banks；
to　reach　at　length　the　rounded；　classic　hills　and　sentinel　mountain　that
mark　the　sheep　country　of　the　Connecticut。。。。

It　was　before　Janet's　convalescence　began　that　Mrs。　Maturin　had　consulted
Insall　concerning　her　proposed　experiment　in　literature。　　Afterwards　he
had　left　Silliston　for　a　lumber　camp　on　a　remote　river　in　northern　Maine；
abruptly　to　reappear；　on　a　mild　afternoon　late　in　April；　in　Augusta
Maturin's　garden。　　The　crocuses　and　tulips　were　in　bloom；　and　his　friend；
in　a　gardening　apron；　was　on　her　knees；　trowel　in　hand；　assisting　a　hired
man　to　set　out　marigolds　and　snapdragons。

〃Well；　it's　time　you　were　home　again；〃　she　exclaimed；　as　she　rose　to
greet　him　and　led　him　to　a　chair　on　the　little　flagged　terrace　beside　the
windows　of　her　library。　　〃I've　got　so　much　to　tell　you　about　our
invalid。〃

〃Our　invalid！〃　Insall　retorted。

〃Of　course。　　I　look　to　you　to　divide　the　responsibility　with　me；　and
you've　shirked　by　running　off　to　Maine。　　You　found　her；　you　knowand
she's　really　remarkable。〃

〃Now　see　here；　Augusta；　you　can't　expect　me　to　share　the　guardianship　of
an　attractive　andwell；　a　dynamic　young　woman。　　If　she　affects　you　this
way；　what　will　she　do　to　me？　　I'm　much　too　susceptible。〃

〃Susceptible〃　she　scoffed。　　〃But　you　can't　get　out　of　it。　　I　need　you。
I've　never　been　so　interested　and　so　perplexed　in　my　life。〃

〃How　is　she？〃　Insall　asked。

〃Frankly；　I'm　worried；〃　said　Mrs。　Maturin。　　〃At　first　she　seemed　to　be
getting　along　beautifully。　　I　read　to　her；　a　little　every　day；　and　it　was
wonderful　how　she　responded　to　it。　　I'll　tell　you　about　that　I've　got　so
much　to　tell　you！　　Young　Dr。　Trent　is　puzzled；　too；　it　seems　there　are
symptoms　in　the　case　for　which　he　cannot　account。　　Some　three　weeks　ago
he　asked　me　what　I　made　out　of　her；　and　I　can't　make　anythingthat's　the
trouble；　except　that　she　seems　pathetically　grateful；　and　that　I've　grown
absurdly　fond　of　her。　　But　she　isn't　improving　as　fast　as　she　should；　and
Dr。　Trent　doesn't　know　whether　or　not　to　suspect　functional
complications。　　Her　constitution　seems　excellent；　her　vitality　unusual。
Trent's　impressed　by　her；　he　inclines　to　the　theory　that　she　has
something　on　her　mind；　and　if　this　is　so　she　should　get　rid　of　it；　tell
it　to　somebodyin　short；　tell　it　to　me。　　I　know　she's　fond　of　me；　but
she's　so　maddeningly　self…contained；　and　at　moments　when　I　look　at　her
she　baffles　me；　she　makes　me　feel　like　an　atom。　　Twenty　times　at　least
I've　almost　screwed　up　my　courage　to　ask　her；　but　when　it　comes　to　the
point；　I　simply　can't　do　it。〃

〃You　ought　to　be　able　to　get　at　it；　if　any　one　can；〃　said　Insall。

〃I've　a　notion　it　may　be　connected　with　the　strike；〃　Augusta　Maturin
continued。　　〃I　never　could　account　for　her　being　mixed　up　in　that；
plunging　into　Syndicalism。　　It　seemed　so　foreign　to　her　nature。　　I　wish
I'd　waited　a　little　longer　before　telling　her　about　the　strike；　but　one
day　she　asked　me　how　it　had　come　outand　she　seemed　to　be　getting　along
so　nicely　I　didn't　see　any　reason　for　not　telling　her。　　I　said　that　the
strike　was　over；　that　the　millowners　had　accepted　the　I。W。W。　terms；　but
that　Antonelli　and　Jastro　had　been　sent　to　jail　and　were　awaiting　trial
because　they　had　been　accused　of　instigating　the　murder　of　a　woman　who
was　shot　by　a　striker　aiming　at　a　policeman。　　It　seems　that　she　had　seen
that！　　She　told　me　so　quite　casually。　　But　she　was　interested；　and　I　went
on　to　mention　how　greatly　the　strikers　were　stirred　by　the　arrests；　how
they　paraded　in　front　of　the　jail；　singing；　and　how　the　feeling　was
mostly　directed　against　Mr。　Ditmar；　because　he　was　accused　of　instigating
the　placing　of　dynamite　in　the　tenements。〃

〃And　you　spoke　of　Mr。　Ditmar's　death？〃　Insall　inquired。

〃Why　yes；　I　told　her　how　he　had　been　shot　in　Dover　Street　by　a　demented
Italian；　and　if　it　hadn't　been　proved　that　the　Italian　was　insane　and　not
a　mill　worker；　the　result　of　the　strike　might　have　been　different。〃

〃How　did　she　take　it？〃

〃Well；　she　was　shocked；　of　course。　　She　sat　up　in　bed；　staring　at　me；　and
then　leaned　back　on　the　pillows　again。　　I　pretended　not　to　notice　itbut
I　was　sorry　I'd　said　anything　about　it。〃

〃She　didn't　say　anything？〃

〃Not　a　word。〃

〃Didn't　you　know　that；　before　the　strike；　she　was　Ditmar's　private
stenographer？〃

〃No！〃　Augusta　Maturin　exclaimed。　　〃Why　didn't　you　tell　me？〃

〃It　never　occurred　to　me　to　tell　you；〃　Insall　replied。

〃That　must　have　something　to　do　with　it！〃　said　Mrs。　Maturin。

Insall　got　up　and　walked　to　the　end　of　the　terrace；　gazing　at　a　bluebird
on　the　edge　of　the　lawn。

〃Well；　not　necessarily；〃　he　said；　after　a　while。　　〃Did　you　ever　find　out
anything　about　her　family？〃

〃Oh；　yes；　I　met　the　father　once；　he's　been　out　two　or　three　times；　on
Sunday；　and　came　over　here　to　thank　me　for　what　I'd　done。　　The　mother
doesn't　comeshe　has　some　trouble；　I　don't　know　exactly　what。　　Brooks；　I
wish　you　could　see　the　father；　he's　so　typically　uniqueif　one　may　use
the　expression。　　A　gatekeeper　at　the　Chipperiug　Mills！〃

〃A　gatekeeper？〃

〃Yes；　and　I'm　quite　sure　he　doesn't　understand　to　this　day　how　he　became
one；　or　why。　　He's　delightfully　naive　on　the　subject　of　genealogy；　and　I
had　the　Bumpus　family　by　heart　before　he　left。　　That's　the　form　his
remnant　of　the　in