the patrician-第17部分

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Audrey　Noel；　too；　had　been　early　astir；　though　she　had　gone　late
enough　to　bed。　　She　dressed　languidly；　but　very　carefully；　being　one
of　those　women　who　put　on　armour　against　Fate；　because　they　are
proud；　and　dislike　the　thought　that　their　sufferings　should　make
others　suffer；　because；　too；　their　bodies　are　to　them　as　it　were
sacred；　having　been　given　them　in　trust；　to　cause　delight。　　When　she
had　finished；　she　looked　at　herself　in　the　glass　rather　more
distrustfully　than　usual。　　She　felt　that　her　sort　of　woman　was　at　a
discount　in　these　days；　and　being　sensitive；　she　was　never　content
either　with　her　appearance；　or　her　habits。　　But；　for　all　that；　she
went　on　behaving　in　unsatisfactory　ways；　because　she　incorrigibly
loved　to　look　as　charming　as　she　could；　and　even　if　no　one　were　going
to　see　her；　she　never　felt　that　she　looked　charming　enough。　　She　was
as　Lady　Casterley　had　shrewdly　guessedthe　kind　of　woman　who
spoils　men　by　being　too　nice　to　them；　of　no　use　to　those　who　wish
women　to　assert　themselves；　yet　having　a　certain　passive　stoicism；
very　disconcerting。　　With　little　or　no　power　of　initiative；　she　would
do　what　she　was　set　to　do　with　a　thoroughness　that　would　shame　an
initiator；　temperamentally　unable　to　beg　anything　of　anybody；　she
required　love　as　a　plant　requires　water；　she　could　give　herself
completely；　yet　remain　oddly　incorruptible；　in　a　word；　hopeless；　and
usually　beloved　of　those　who　thought　her　so。

With　all　this；　however；　she　was　not　quite　what　is　called　a　'sweet
womana　phrase　she　detestedfor　there　was　in　her　a　queer　vein　of
gentle　cynicism。　　She　'saw'　with　extraordinary　clearness；　as　if　she
had　been　born　in　Italy　and　still　carried　that　clear　dry　atmosphere
about　her　soul。　　She　loved　glow　and　warmth　and　colour；　such　mysticism
as　she　felt　was　pagan；　and　she　had　few　aspirationssufficient　to　her
were　things　as　they　showed　themselves　to　be。

This　morning；　when　she　had　made　herself　smell　of　geraniums；　and
fastened　all　the　small　contrivances　that　hold　even　the　best　of　women
together；　she　went　downstairs　to　her　little　dining…room；　set　the
spirit　lamp　going；　and　taking　up　her　newspaper；　stood　waiting　to　make
tea。

It　was　the　hour　of　the　day　most　dear　to　her。　　If　the　dew　had　been
brushed　off　her　life；　it　was　still　out　there　every　morning　on　the
face　of　Nature；　and　on　the　faces　of　her　flowers；　there　was　before　her
all　the　pleasure　of　seeing　how　each　of　those　little　creatures　in　the
garden　had　slept；　how　many　children　had　been　born　since　the　Dawn；　who
was　ailing；　and　needed　attention。　　There　was　also　the　feeling；　which
renews　itself　every　morning　in　people　who　live　lonely　lives；　that
they　are　not　lonely；　until；　the　day　wearing　on；　assures　them　of　the
fact。　　Not　that　she　was　idle；　for　she　had　obtained　through　Courtier
the　work　of　reviewing　music　in　a　woman's　paper；　for　which　she　was
intuitively　fitted。　　This；　her　flowers；　her　own　music；　and　the
affairs　of　certain　families　of　cottagers；　filled　nearly　all　her　time。
And　she　asked　no　better　fate　than　to　have　every　minute　occupied；
having　that　passion　for　work　requiring　no　initiation；　which　is
natural　to　the　owners　of　lazy　minds。

Suddenly　she　dropped　her　newspaper；　went　to　the　bowl　of　flowers　on
the　breakfast…table；　and　plucked　forth　two　stalks　of　lavender；
holding　them　away　from　her；　she　went　out　into　the　garden；　and　flung
them　over　the　wall。

This　strange　immolation　of　those　two　poor　sprigs；　born　so　early；
gathered　and　placed　before　her　with　such　kind　intention　by　her　maid；
seemed　of　all　acts　the　least　to　be　expected　of　one　who　hated　to　hurt
people's　feelings；　and　whose　eyes　always　shone　at　the　sight　of
flowers。　　But　in　truth　the　smell　of　lavenderthat　scent　carried　on
her　husband's　handkerchief　and　clothesstill　affected　her　so
strongly　that　she　could　not　bear　to　be　in　a　room　with　it。　　As　nothing
else　did；　it　brought　before　her　one；　to　live　with　whom　had　slowly
become　torture。　　And　freed　by　that　scent；　the　whole　flood　of　memory
broke　in　on　her。　　The　memory　of　three　years　when　her　teeth　had　been
set　doggedly；　on　her　discovery　that　she　was　chained　to　unhappiness
for　life；　the　memory　of　the　abrupt　end；　and　of　her　creeping　away　to
let　her　scorched　nerves　recover。　　Of　how　during　the　first　year　of
this　release　which　was　not　freedom；　she　had　twice　changed　her　abode；
to　get　away　from　her　own　storynot　because　she　was　ashamed　of　it；
but　because　it　reminded　her　of　wretchedness。　　Of　how　she　had　then
come　to　Monkland；　where　the　quiet　life　had　slowly　given　her
elasticity　again。　　And　then　of　her　meeting　with　Miltoun；　the
unexpected　delight　of　that　companionship；　the　frank　enjoyment　of　the
first　four　months。　　And　she　remembered　all　her　secret　rejoicing；　her
silent　identification　of　another　life　with　her　own；　before　she
acknowledged　or　even　suspected　love。　　And　just　three　weeks　ago　now；
helping　to　tie　up　her　roses；　he　had　touched　her；　and　she　had　known。
But　even　then；　until　the　night　of　Courtier's　accident；　she　had　not
dared　to　realize。　　More　concerned　now　for　him　than　for　herself；　she
asked　herself　a　thousand　times　if　she　had　been　to　blame。　　She　had　let
him　grow　fond　of　her；　a　woman　out　of　court；　a　dead　woman！　　An
unpardonable　sin！　　Yet　surely　that　depended　on　what　she　was　prepared
to　give！　　And　she　was　frankly　ready　to　give　everything；　and　ask　for
nothing。　　He　knew　her　position；　he　had　told　her　that　he　knew。　　In　her
love　for　him　she　gloried；　would　continue　to　glory；　would　suffer　for
it　without　regret。　　Miltoun　was　right　in　believing　that　newspaper
gossip　was　incapable　of　hurting　her；　though　her　reasons　for　being　so
impervious　were　not　what　he　supposed。　　She　was　not；　like　him；　secured
from　pain　because　such　insinuations　about　the　private　affairs　of
others　were　mean　and　vulgar　and　beneath　notice；　it　had　not　as　yet
occurred　to　her　to　look　at　the　matter　in　so　lofty　and　general　a
light；　she　simply　was　not　hurt；　because　she　was　already　so　deeply
Miltoun's　property　in　spirit；　that　she　was　almost　glad　that　they
should　assign　him　all　the　rest　of　her。　　But　for　Miltoun's　sake　she
was　disturbed　to　the　soul。　　She　had　tarnished　his　shield　in　the　eyes
of　men；　and　（for　she　was　oddly　practical；　and　saw　things　in　very
clear　proportion）　perhaps　put　back　his　career；　who　knew　how　many
years！

She　sat　down　to　drink　her　tea。　　Not　being　a　crying　woman；　she
suffered　quietly。　　She　felt　that　Miltoun　would　be　coming　to　her。　　She
did　not　know　at　all　what　she　should　say　when　he　did　come。　　He　could
not　care　for　her　so　much　as　she　cared　for　him！　　He　was　a　man；　men
soon　forget！　　Ah！　but　he　was　not　like　most　men。　　One　could　not　look
at　his　eyes　without　feeling　that　he　could　suffer　terribly！　　In　all
this　her　own　reputation　concerned　her　not　at　all。　　Life；　and　her
clear　way　of　looking　at　things；　had　rooted　in　her　the　conviction　that
to　a　woman　the　preciousness　of　her　reputation　was　a　fiction　invented
by　men　entirely　for　man's　benefit；　a　second…hand　fetish　insidiously；
inevitably　set…up　by　men　for　worship；　in　novels；　plays；　and　law…
courts。　　Her　instinct　told　her　that　men　could　not　feel　secure　in　the
possession　of　their　women　unless　they　could　believe　that　women　set
tremendous　store　by　sexual　reputation。　　What　they　wanted　to　believe；
that　they　did　believe！　　But　she　knew　otherwise。　　Such　great…minded
women　as　she　had　met　or　read　of　had　always　left　on　her　the　impression
that　reputation　for　them　was　a　matter　of　the　spirit；　having　little　to
do　with　sex。　　From　her　own　feelings　she　knew　that　reputation；　for　a
simple　woman；　meant　to　stand　well　in　the　eyes　of　him　or　her　whom　she
loved　best。　　For　worldly　womenand　there　were　so　many　kinds　of
those；　besides　the　merely　fashionableshe　had　always　noted　that　its
value　was　not　intrinsic；　but　commercial；　not　a　crown　of　dignity；　but
just　a　marketable　asset。　　She　did　not　dread　in　the　least　what　people
might　say　of　her　friendship　with　Miltoun；　nor　did　she　feel　at　all
that　her　indissoluble　marriage　forbade　her　loving　him。　　She　had
secretly　felt　free　as　soon　as　she　had　discovered　that　she　had　never
really　loved　her　husband；　she　had　only　gone　on　dutifully　until　the
separation；　from　sheer　passivity；　and　because　it　was　against　her
nature　to　cause　pain　to　anyone。　　The　man　who　was　still　her　husband
was　now　as　dead　to　her　as　if　he　had　never　been　born。　　She　could　not
marry　again；　it　was　true；　but　she　could　and　did　love。　　If　that　love
was　to　be　starved　and　die　away；　it　would　not　be　because　of　any　moral
scruples。

She　opened　her　paper　languidly；　and　almost　the　first　words　she　read；
under　the　heading　of　Election　News；　were　these：

'Apropos　of　the　outrage　on　Mr。　Courtier；　we　are　requested　to　state
that　the　lady　who　accompanied　Lord　Miltoun　to　the　rescue　of　that
gentleman　was　Mrs。　Lees　Noel；　wife　of　the　Rev。　Stephen　Lees　Noel；
vicar　of　Clathampton；　Warwickshire。'

This　dubious　little　daub　of　whitewash　only　brought　a　rather　sad　smile
to　her　lips。　　She　left　her　tea；　and　went　out　into　the　air。　　There　at
the　gate　was　Miltoun　coming　in。　　Her　heart　leaped。　　But　she　went
forward　quietly；　and　greeted　him　with　cast…down　eyes；　as　if　nothing
were　out　of　the　ordinary。




CHAPTER　XV

Exaltation　had　not　left　Miltoun。　　His　sallow　face　was　flushed；　his
eyes　glowed　with　a　sort　of　beauty；　and　Audrey　Noel　who；　better　than
most　women；　could　read　what　was　passing　behind　a　face；　saw　those　eyes
with　the　delight　of　a　moth　fluttering　towards　a　lamp。　　But　in　a　very
unemotional　voice　she　said：

〃So　you　have　come　to　breakfast。　　How　nice　of　you！

It　was　not　in　Miltoun　to　observe　the　formalities　of　attack。　　Had　he
been　going　to　fight　a　duel　there　would　have　been　no　preliminary；　just
a　look；　a　bow；　and　the　swords　crossed。　　So　in　this　first　engagement
of　his　with　the　soul　of　a　woman！

He　neither　sat　down　nor　suffered　her　to　sit；　but　stood　looking
intently　into　her　face；　and　said：

〃I　love　you。〃

Now　that　it　had　come；　with　this　disconcerting　swiftness；　she　was
strangely　calm；　and　unashamed。　　The　elation　of　knowing　for　sure　that
she　was　loved　was　like　a　wand　waving　away　all　tremors；　stilling　them
to　sweetness。　　Since　nothing　could　take　away　that　knowledge；　it
seemed　that　she　could　never　again　be　utterly　unhappy。　　Then；　too；　in
her　nature；　so　deeply；　unreasoningly　incapable　of　per