the dark flower-第30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！


the　night！　　The　hue　of　all　holy　things！　　And　how　still　it　was　in
the　late　gleam　of　the　sun！　　Not　one　little　sound　of　beast　or　bird
or　tree；　not　one　bee　humming！　　And　not　much　colouronly　the　starry
white　hemlocks　and　globe…campion　flowers；　and　the　low…flying
glamour　of　the　last　warm　light　on　the　wheat。


XX


。　。　。　Now　over　wood　and　river　the　evening　drew　in　fast。　　And　first
the　swallows；　that　had　looked　as　if　they　would　never　stay　their
hunting；　ceased；　and　the　light；　that　had　seemed　fastened　above　the
world；　for　all　its　last　brightenings；　slowly　fell　wingless　and
dusky。

The　moon　would　not　rise　till　ten！　　And　all　things　waited。　　The
creatures　of　night　were　slow　to　come　forth　after　that　long　bright
summer's　day；　watching　for　the　shades　of　the　trees　to　sink　deeper
and　deeper　into　the　now　chalk…white　water；　watching　for　the　chalk…
white　face　of　the　sky　to　be　masked　with　velvet。　　The　very　black…
plumed　trees　themselves　seemed　to　wait　in　suspense　for　the　grape…
bloom　of　night。　　All　things　stared；　wan　in　that　hour　of　passing
dayall　things　had　eyes　wistful　and　unblessed。　　In　those　moments
glamour　was　so　dead　that　it　was　as　if　meaning　had　abandoned　the
earth。　　But　not　for　long。　　Winged　with　darkness；　it　stole　back；　not
the　soul　of　meaning　that　had　gone；　but　a　witch…like　and　brooding
spirit　harbouring　in　the　black　trees；　in　the　high　dark　spears　of
the　rushes；　and　on　the　grim…snouted　snags　that　lurked　along　the
river　bank。　　Then　the　owls　came　out；　and　night…flying　things。　　And
in　the　wood　there　began　a　cruel　bird…tragedysome　dark　pursuit　in
the　twilight　above　the　bracken；　the　piercing　shrieks　of　a　creature
into　whom　talons　have　again　and　again　gone　home；　and　mingled　with
them；　hoarse　raging　cries　of　triumph。　　Many　minutes　they　lasted；
those　noises　of　the　night；　sound…emblems　of　all　the　cruelty　in　the
heart　of　Nature；　till　at　last　death　appeased　that　savagery。　　And
any　soul　abroad；　that　pitied　fugitives；　might　once　more　listen；　and
not　weep。　。　。　。

Then　a　nightingale　began　to　give　forth　its　long　liquid　gurgling；
and　a　corn…crake　churred　in　the　young　wheat。　　Again　the　night
brooded；　in　the　silent　tops　of　the　trees；　in　the　more　silent　depths
of　the　water。　　It　sent　out　at　long　intervals　a　sigh　or　murmur；　a
tiny　scuttling　splash；　an　owl's　hunting　cry。　　And　its　breath　was
still　hot　and　charged　with　heavy　odour；　for　no　dew　was　falling。　。　。　。


XXI


It　was　past　ten　when　they　came　out　from　the　wood。　　She　had　wanted
to　wait　for　the　moon　to　rise；　not　a　gold　coin　of　a　moon　as　last
night；　but　ivory　pale；　and　with　a　gleaming　radiance　level　over　the
fern；　and　covering　the　lower　boughs；　as　it　were；　with　a　drift　of
white　blossom。

Through　the　wicket　gate　they　passed　once　more　beside　the　moon…
coloured　wheat；　which　seemed　of　a　different　world　from　that　world
in　which　they　had　walked　but　an　hour　and　a　half　ago。

And　in　Lennan's　heart　was　a　feeling　such　as　a　man's　heart　can　only
know　once　in　all　his　lifesuch　humble　gratitude；　and　praise；　and
adoration　of　her　who　had　given　him　her　all。　　There　should　be
nothing　for　her　now　but　joylike　the　joy　of　this　last　hour。　　She
should　never　know　less　happiness！　　And　kneeling　down　before　her　at
the　water's　edge　he　kissed　her　dress；　and　hands；　and　feet；　which
to…morrow　would　be　his　forever。

Then　they　got　into　the　boat。

The　smile　of　the　moonlight　glided　over　each　ripple；　and　reed；　and
closing　water…lily；　over　her　face；　where　the　hood　had　fallen　back
from　her　loosened　hair；　over　one　hand　trailing　the　water；　and　the
other　touching　the　flower　at　her　breast；　and；　just　above　her
breath；　she　said：

〃Row；　my　dear　love；　it's　late！〃

Dipping　his　sculls；　he　shot　the　skiff　into　the　darkness　of　the
backwater。　。　。　。

What　happened　then　he　never　knew；　never　clearlyin　all　those　after
years。　　A　vision　of　her　white　form　risen　to　its　feet；　bending
forward　like　a　creature　caught；　that　cannot　tell　which　way　to
spring；　a　crashing　shock；　his　head　striking　something　hard！
Nothingness！　　And　thenan　awful；　awful　struggle　with　roots　and
weeds　and　slime；　a　desperate　agony　of　groping　in　that　pitchy
blackness；　among　tree…stumps；　in　dead　water　that　seemed　to　have　no
bottomhe　and　that　other；　who　had　leaped　at　them　in　the　dark　with
his　boat；　like　a　murdering　beast；　a　nightmare　search　more　horrible
than　words　could　tell；　till　in　a　patch　of　moonlight　on　the　bank
they　laid　her；　who　for　all　their　efforts　never　stirred。　。　。　。
There　she　lay　all　white；　and　they　two　crouched　at　her　head　and
feetlike　dark　creatures　of　the　woods　and　waters　over　that　which
with　their　hunting　they　had　slain。

How　long　they　stayed　there；　not　once　looking　at　each　other；　not
once　speaking；　not　once　ceasing　to　touch　with　their　hands　that　dead
thinghe　never　knew。　　How　long　in　the　summer　night；　with　its
moonlight　and　its　shadows　quivering　round　them；　and　the　night　wind
talking　in　the　reeds！

And　then　the　most　enduring　of　all　sentient　things　had　moved　in　him
again；　so　that　he　once　more　felt。　。　。　。　　Never　again　to　see　those
eyes　that　had　loved　him　with　their　light！　　Never　again　to　kiss　her
lips！　　Frozenlike　moonlight　to　the　earth；　with　the　flower　still
clinging　at　her　breast。　　Thrown　out　on　the　bank　like　a　plucked
water…lily！　　Dead？　　No；　no！　　Not　dead！　　Alive　in　the　nightalive
to　himsomewhere！　　Not　on　this　dim　bank；　in　this　hideous
backwater；　with　that　dark　dumb　creature　who　had　destroyed　her！　　Out
there　on　the　riverin　the　wood　of　their　happinesssomewhere
alive！　。　。　。　　And；　staggering　up　past　Cramier；　who　never　moved；　he
got　into　his　boat；　and　like　one　demented　pulled　out　into　the
stream。

But　once　there　in　the　tide；　he　fell　huddled　forward；　motionless
above　his　oars。　。　。　。

And　the　moonlight　flooded　his　dark　skiff　drifting　down。　　And　the
moonlight　effaced　the　ripples　on　the　water　that　had　stolen　away　her
spirit。　　Her　spirit　mingled　now　with　the　white　beauty　and　the
shadows；　for　ever　part　of　the　stillness　and　the　passion　of　a　summer
night；　hovering；　floating；　listening　to　the　rustle　of　the　reeds；
and　the　whispering　of　the　woods；　one　with　the　endless　dreamthat
spirit　passing　out；　as　all　might　wish　to　pass；　in　the　hour　of
happiness。



PART　III

AUTUMN


I


When　on　that　November　night　Lennan　stole　to　the　open　door　of　his
dressing…room；　and　stood　watching　his　wife　asleep；　Fate　still
waited　for　an　answer。

A　low　fire　was　burningone　of　those　fires　that　throw　faint　shadows
everywhere；　and　once　and　again　glow　so　that　some　object　shines　for
a　moment；　some　shape　is　clearly　seen。　　The　curtains　were　not　quite
drawn；　and　a　plane…tree　branch　with　leaves　still　hanging；　which　had
kept　them　company　all　the　fifteen　years　they　had　lived　there；　was
moving　darkly　in　the　wind；　now　touching　the　glass　with　a　frail　tap；
as　though　asking　of　him；　who　had　been　roaming　in　that　wind　so　many
hours；　to　let　it　in。　　Unfailing　comradesLondon　plane…trees！

He　had　not　dared　hope　that　Sylvia　would　be　asleep。　　It　was　merciful
that　she　was；　whichever　way　the　issue　wentthat　issue　so　cruel。
Her　face　was　turned　towards　the　fire；　and　one　hand　rested　beneath
her　cheek。　　So　she　often　slept。　　Even　when　life　seemed　all　at　sea；
its　landmarks　lost；　one　still　did　what　was　customary。　　Poor　tender…
hearted　thingshe　had　not　slept　since　he　told　her；　forty…eight
hours；　that　seemed　such　years；　ago！　　With　her　flaxen　hair；　and　her
touching　candour；　even　in　sleep；　she　looked　like　a　girl　lying
there；　not　so　greatly　changed　from　what　she　had　been　that　summer　of
Cicely's　marriage　down　at　Hayle。　　Her　face　had　not　grown　old　in　all
those　twenty…eight　years。　　There　had　been　till　now　no　special
reason　why　it　should。　　Thought；　strong　feeling；　suffering；　those
were　what　changed　faces；　Sylvia　had　never　thought　very　deeply；
never　suffered　much；　till　now。　　And　was　it　for　him；　who　had　been
careful　of　hervery　careful　on　the　whole；　despite　man's
selfishness；　despite　her　never　having　understood　the　depths　of　him
was　it　for　him　of　all　people　to　hurt　her　so；　to　stamp　her　face
with　sorrow；　perhaps　destroy　her　utterly？

He　crept　a　little　farther　in　and　sat　down　in　the　arm…chair　beyond
the　fire。　　What　memories　a　fire　gathered　into　it；　with　its　flaky
ashes；　its　little　leaf…like　flames；　and　that　quiet　glow　and
flicker！　　What　tale　of　passions！　　How　like　to　a　fire　was　a　man's
heart！　　The　first　young　fitful　leapings；　the　sudden；　fierce；
mastering　heat；　the　long；　steady　sober　burning；　and　thenthat　last
flaming…up；　that　clutch　back　at　its　own　vanished　youth；　the　final
eager　flight　of　flame；　before　the　ashes　wintered　it　to　nothing！
Visions　and　memories　he　saw　down　in　the　fire；　as　only　can　be　seen
when　a　man's　heart；　by　the　agony　of　long　struggle；　has　been
stripped　of　skin；　and　quivers　at　every　touch。　　Love！　　A　strange
haphazard　thing　was　loveso　spun　between　ecstacy　and　torture！　　A
thing　insidious；　irresponsible；　desperate。　　A　flying　sweetness；
more　poignant　than　anything　on　earth；　more　dark　in　origin　and
destiny。　　A　thing　without　reason　or　coherence。　　A　man's　love…life
what　say　had　he　in　the　ebb　and　flow　of　it？　　No　more　than　in　the
flights　of　autumn　birds；　swooping　down；　alighting　here　and　there；
passing　on。　　The　loves　one　left　behindeven　in　a　life　by　no　means
vagabond　in　love；　as　men's　lives　went！　　The　love　that　thought　the
Tyrol　skies　would　fall　if　he　were　not　first　with　a　certain　lady。
The　love　whose　star　had　caught　in　the　hair　of　Sylvia；　now　lying
there　asleep。　　A　so…called　lovethat　half…glamorous；　yet　sordid
little　meal　of　pleasure；　which　youth；　however　sensitive；　must　eat；
it　seems；　some　time　or　other　with　some　young　light　of　lovea
glimpse　of　life　that　beforehand　had　seemed　much　and　had　meant
little；　save　to　leave　him　disillusioned　with　himself　and　sorry　for
his　partner。　　And　then　the　love　that　he　could　not；　even　after
twenty　years；　bear　to　remember；　that　all…devouring　summer　passion；
which　in　one　night　had　gained　all　and　lost　all　terribly；　leaving　on
his　soul　a　scar　that　could　never　be　quite　healed；　leaving　his
spirit　always　a　little　lonely；　haunted　by　the　sense　of　what　might
have　been。　　Of　his　share　in　that　night　of　tragedythat　'terrible
accident　on　the　river'no　one　had　ever　dreamed。　　And　then　the　long
despair　which　had　seemed　the　last　death　of　love　had　slowly　passed；
and　yet　anothe