michael-第48部分

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It　was　perfectly　peaceful　and　strangely　young…looking；　as　if　the　cool；　soothing　hand　of　death；　which　presently　would　quiet　all　trouble　for　her；　had　been　already　at　work　there　erasing　the　marks　that　the　years　had　graven　upon　it。　　And　yet　it　was　not　so　much　young　as　ageless；　it　seemed　to　have　passed　beyond　the　register　and　limitations　of　time。　　Sometimes　for　a　moment　it　was　like　the　face　of　a　stranger；　and　then　suddenly　it　would　become　beloved　and　familiar　again。　　It　was　just　so　she　had　looked　when　she　came　so　timidly　into　his　room　one　night　at　Ashbridge；　asking　him　if　it　would　be　troublesome　to　him　if　she　sat　and　talked　with　him　for　a　little。　　The　mouth　was　a　little　parted　for　her　slow；　even　breathing；　the　corners　of　it　smiled；　and　yet　he　was　not　sure　if　they　smiled。　　It　was　hard　to　tell；　for　she　lay　there　quite　flat；　without　pillows；　and　he　looked　at　her　from　an　unusual　angle。　Sometimes　he　felt　as　if　he　had　been　sitting　there　watching　for　uncounted　years；　and　then　again　the　hours　that　he　had　been　here　appeared　to　have　lasted　but　for　a　moment；　as　if　he　had　but　looked　once　at　her。

As　the　day　declined　the　breeze　of　evening　awoke；　rattling　the　blind。　　By　now　the　sun　had　swung　farther　west；　and　the　nurse　pulled　the　blind　up。　　Outside　in　the　bushes　in　the　garden　the　call　of　birds　to　each　other　had　begun；　and　a　thrush　came　close　to　the　window　and　sang　a　liquid　phrase；　and　then　repeated　it。　　Michael　glanced　there　and　saw　the　bird；　speckle…breasted；　with　throat　that　throbbed　with　the　notes；　and　then；　looking　back　to　the　bed；　he　saw　that　his　mother's　eyes　were　open。

She　looked　vaguely　about　the　room　for　a　moment；　as　if　she　had　awoke　from　some　deep　sleep　and　found　herself　in　an　unfamiliar　place。　Then；　turning　her　head　slightly；　she　saw　him；　and　there　was　no　longer　any　question　as　to　whether　her　mouth　smiled；　for　all　her　face　was　flooded　with　deep；　serene　joy。

He　bent　towards　her　and　her　lips　parted。

〃Michael；　my　dear；〃　she　said　gently。

Michael　heard　the　rustle　of　the　nurse's　dress　as　she　got　up　and　came　to　the　bedside。　　He　slipped　from　his　chair　on　to　his　knees；　so　that　his　face　was　near　his　mother's。　　He　felt　in　his　heart　that　the　moment　he　had　so　longed　for　was　to　be　granted　him；　that　she　had　come　back　to　him；　not　only　as　he　had　known　her　during　the　weeks　that　they　had　lived　alone　together；　when　his　presence　made　her　so　content；　but　in　a　manner　infinitely　more　real　and　more　embracing。

〃Have　you　been　sitting　here　all　the　time　while　I　slept；　dear？〃　she　asked。　　〃Have　you　been　waiting　for　me　to　come　back　to　you？〃

〃Yes；　and　you　have　come；〃　he　said。

She　looked　at　him；　and　the　mother…love；　which　before　had　been　veiled　and　clouded；　came　out　with　all　the　tender　radiance　of　evening　sun；　with　the　clear　shining　after　rain。

〃I　knew　you　wouldn't　fail　me；　my　darling；〃　she　said。　　〃You　were　so　patient　with　me　in　the　trouble　I　have　been　through。　　It　was　a　nightmare；　but　it　has　gone。〃

Michael　bent　forward　and　kissed　her。

〃Yes；　mother；〃　he　said；　〃it　has　all　gone。〃

She　was　silent　a　moment。

〃Is　your　father　here？〃　she　said。

〃No；　but　he　will　come　at　once；　if　you　would　like　to　see　him。〃

〃Yes；　send　for　him；　dear；　if　it　would　not　vex　him　to　come；〃　she　said；　〃or　get　somebody　else　to　send；　I　don't　want　you　to　leave　me。〃

〃I'm　not　going　to；〃　said　he。

The　nurse　went　to　the　door；　gave　some　message；　and　presently　returned　to　the　other　side　of　the　bed。　　Then　Lady　Ashbridge　spoke　again。

〃Is　this　death？〃　she　asked。

Michael　raised　his　eyes　to　the　figure　standing　by　the　bed。　　She　nodded　to　him。

He　bent　forward　again。

〃Yes；　dear　mother；〃　he　said。

For　a　moment　her　eyes　dilated；　then　grew　quiet　again；　and　the　smile　returned　to　her　mouth。

〃I'm　not　frightened；　Michael；〃　she　said；　〃with　you　there。　　It　isn't　lonely　or　terrible。〃

She　raised　her　head。

〃My　son！〃　she　said　in　a　voice　loud　and　triumphant。　　Then　her　head　fell　back　again；　and　she　lay　with　face　close　to　his；　and　her　eyelids　quivered　and　shut。　　Her　breath　came　slow　and　regular；　as　if　she　slept。　　Then　he　heard　that　she　missed　a　breath；　and　soon　after　another。　　Then；　without　struggle　at　all；　her　breathing　ceased。　。　。　。　And　outside　on　the　lawn　close　by　the　open　window　the　thrush　still　sang。


It　was　an　hour　later　when　Michael　left；　having　waited　for　his　father's　arrival；　and　drove　to　town　through　the　clear；　falling　dusk。　　He　was　conscious　of　no　feeling　of　grief　at　all；　only　of　a　complete　pervading　happiness。　　He　could　not　have　imagined　so　perfect　a　close；　nor　could　he　have　desired　anything　different　from　that　imperishable　moment　when　his　mother；　all　trouble　past；　had　come　back　to　him　in　the　serene　calm　of　love。　。　。　。

As　he　entered　London　he　saw　the　newsboards　all　placarded　with　one　fact：　England　had　declared　war　on　Germany。


He　went；　not　to　his　own　flat；　but　straight　to　Maidstone　Crescent。　With　those　few　minutes　in　which　his　mother　had　known　him；　the　stupor　that　had　beset　his　emotions　all　day　passed　off；　and　he　felt　himself　longing；　as　he　had　never　longed　before；　for　Sylvia's　presence。　　Long　ago　he　had　given　her　all　that　he　knew　of　as　himself；　now　there　was　a　fresh　gift。　　He　had　to　give　her　all　that　those　moments　had　taught　him。　　Even　as　already　they　were　knitted　into　him；　made　part　of　him；　so　must　they　be　to　her。　。　。　。　　And　when　they　had　shared　that；　when；　like　water　gushing　from　a　spring　she　flooded　him；　there　was　that　other　news　which　he　had　seen　on　the　newsboards　that　they　had　to　share　together。

Sylvia　had　been　alone　all　day　with　her　mother；　but；　before　Michael　arrived；　Mrs。　Falbe　（after　a　few　more　encouraging　remarks　about　war　in　general；　to　the　effect　that　Germany　would　soon　beat　France；　and　what　a　blessing　it　was　that　England　was　an　island）　had　taken　her　book　up　to　her　room；　and　Sylvia　was　sitting　alone　in　the　deep　dusk　of　the　evening。　　She　did　not　even　trouble　to　turn　on　the　light；　for　she　felt　unable　to　apply　herself　to　any　practical　task；　and　she　could　think　and　take　hold　of　herself　better　in　the　dark。　　All　day　she　had　longed　for　Michael　to　come　to　her；　though　she　had　not　cared　to　see　anybody　else；　and　several　times　she　had　rung　him　up；　only　to　find　that　he　was　still　out；　supposedly　with　his　mother；　for　he　had　been　summoned　to　her　early　that　morning；　and　since　then　no　news　had　come　of　him。　　Just　before　dinner　had　arrived　the　announcement　of　the　declaration　of　war；　and　Sylvia　sat　now　trying　to　find　some　escape　from　the　encompassing　nightmare。　　She　felt　confused　and　distracted　with　it；　she　could　not　think　consecutively；　but　only　contemplate　shudderingly　the　series　of　pictures　that　presented　themselves　to　her　mind。　　Somewhere　now；　in　the　hosts　of　the　Fatherland；　which　was　hers　also；　was　Hermann；　the　brother　who　was　part　of　herself。　　When　she　thought　of　him；　she　seemed　to　be　with　him；　to　see　the　glint　of　his　rifle；　to　feel　her　heart　on　his　heart；　big　with　passionate　patriotism。　　She　had　no　doubt　that　patriotism　formed　the　essence　of　his　consciousness；　and　yet　by　now　probably　he　knew　that　the　land　beloved　by　him；　where　he　had　made　his　home；　was　at　war　with　his　own。　　She　could　not　but　know　how　often　his　thoughts　dwelled　here　in　the　dark　quiet　studio　where　she　sat；　and　where　so　many　days　of　happiness　had　been　passed。　　She　knew　what　she　was　to　him；　she　and　her　mother　and　Michael；　and　the　hosts　of　friends　in　this　land　which　had　become　his　foe。　　Would　he　have　gone；　she　asked　herself；　if　he　had　guessed　that　there　would　be　war　between　the　two？　She　thought　he　would；　though　she　knew　that　for　herself　she　would　have　made　it　as　hard　as　possible　for　him　to　do　so。　　She　would　have　used　every　argument　she　could　think　of　to　dissuade　him；　and　yet　she　felt　that　her　entreaties　would　have　beaten　in　vain　against　the　granite　of　his　and　her　nationality。　　Dimly　she　had　foreseen　this　contingency　when；　a　few　days　ago；　she　had　asked　Michael　what　he　would　do　if　England　went　to　war；　and　now　that　contingency　was　realised；　and　Hermann　was　even　now　perhaps　on　his　way　to　violate　the　neutrality　of　the　country　for　the　sake　of　which　England　had　gone　to　war。　　On　the　other　side　was　Michael；　into　whose　keeping　she　had　given　herself　and　her　love；　and　on　which　side　was　she？　　It　was　then　that　the　nightmare　came　close　to　her；　she　could　not　tell；　she　was　utterly　unable　to　decide。　　Her　heart　was　Michael's；　her　heart　was　her　brother's　also。　　The　one　personified　Germany　for　her；　the　other　England。　　It　was　as　if　she　saw　Hermann　and　Michael　with　bayonet　and　rifle　stalking　each　other　across　some　land　of　sand…　dunes　and　hollows；　creeping　closer　to　each　other；　always　closer。　She　felt　as　if　she　would　have　gladly　given　herself　over　to　an　eternity　of　torment；　if　only　they　could　have　had　one　hour　more；　all　three　of　them；　together　here；　as　on　that　night　of　stars　and　peace　when　first　there　came　the　news　which　for　the　moment　had　disquieted　Hermann。

She　longed　as　with　thirst　for　Michael　to　come；　and　as　her　solitude　became　more　and　more　intolerable；　a　hundred　hideous　fancies　obsessed　her。　　What　if　some　accident　had　happened　to　Michael；　or　what；　if　in　this　tremendous　breaking　of　ties　that　the　war　entailed；　he　felt　that　he　could　not　see　her？　　She　knew　that　was　an　impossibility；　but　the　whole　world　had　become　impossible。　　And　there　was　no　escape。　　Somehow　she　had　to　adjust　herself　to　the　unthinkable；　somehow　her　relations　both　with　Hermann　and　Michael　had　to　remain　absolutely　unshaken。　　Even　that　was　not　enough：　they　had　to　be　strengthened；　made　impregnable。

Then　came　a　knock　on　the　side　door　of　the　studio　that　led　into　the　street：　Michael　often　came　that　way　without　passing　through　the　house；　and　with　a　sense　of　relief　she　ran　to　it　and　unlocked　it。　And　even　as　he　stepped　in；　before　any　word　of　greeting　had　been　exchanged；　she　flung　herself　on　him；　with　fingers　eager　for　the　touch　of　his　solidity。　。　。　。

〃Oh；　my　dear；〃　she　said。　　〃I　have　longed　for　you；　just　longed　for　you。　　I　never　wanted　you　so　much。　　I　have　been　sitting　in　the　dark　desolatedesolate。　　And　oh！　my　darling；　what　a　beast　I　am　to　think　of　nothing　but　myself。　　I　am　ashamed。　　What　of　your　mother；　Michael？〃

She　turned　on　the　light　as　they　walked　back　across　the　studio；　and　Michael　saw　that　her　eyes；　which　were　a　little　dazzled　by　the　change　from　the　dark　into　the　light；　were　dim　with　unshed　tears；　and　her　hands　clung　to　him　as　never　before