michael-第53部分

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　havoc　reached　them；　and　the　test　would　come　when　it　roared　and　lightened　overhead。　　Already　the　tension　of　the　approaching　tempest　had　so　wrought　on　them　that　for　a　month　past　they　had　been　unreal　to　each　other；　wanting　ease；　wanting　confidence；　and　now；　when　the　first　real　shock　had　come；　though　for　a　moment　it　threw　them　into　each　other's　arms；　this　was　not；　as　they　knew；　the　real；　the　final　reconciliation；　the　touchstone　that　proved　the　gold。　　Francis's　death；　the　cousin　whom　Michael　loved；　at　the　hands　of　one　of　the　nation　to　whom　Sylvia　belonged；　had　momentarily　made　them　feel　that　all　else　but　their　love　was　but　external　circumstance；　and；　even　in　the　moment　of　their　feeling　this；　the　shadow　fell　again；　and　left　them　chilly　and　shivering。

For　a　moment　they　still　held　each　other　round　the　neck　and　shoulder；　then　the　hold　slipped　to　the　elbow；　and　soon　their　hands　parted。　　As　yet　no　word　had　been　said　since　Michael　asserted　that　nothing　else　mattered；　and　in　the　silence　of　their　gradual　estrangement　the　sanguine　falsity　of　that　grew　and　grew　and　grew。

〃I　know　what　you　feel；〃　she　said　at　length；　〃and　I　feel　it　also。〃

Her　voice　broke；　and　her　hands　felt　for　his　again。

〃Michael；　where　are　you？〃　she　cried。　　〃No；　don't　touch　me；　I　didn't　mean　that。　　Let's　face　it。　　For　all　we　know；　Hermann　might　have　killed　Francis。　。　。　。　　Whether　he　did　or　not；　doesn't　matter。　　it　might　have　been。　　It's　like　that。〃

A　minute　before　Michael；　in　soul　and　blood　and　mind　and　bones；　had　said　that　nothing　but　Sylvia　and　himself　had　any　real　existence。　He　had　clung　to　her；　even　as　she　to　him；　hoping　that　this　individual　love　would　prove　itself　capable　of　overriding　all　else　that　existed。　　But　it　had　not　needed　that　she　should　speak　to　show　him　how　pathetically　he　had　erred。　　Before　she　had　made　a　concrete　instance　he　knew　how　hopeless　his　wish　had　been：　the　silence；　the　loosening　of　hands　had　told　him　that。　　And　when　she　spoke　there　was　a　brutality　in　what　she　said；　and　worse　than　the　brutality　there　was　a　plain；　unvarnished　truth。

There　was　no　question　now　of　her　going　away　at　once；　as　she　had　proposed；　any　more　than　a　boat　in　the　rapids；　roared　round　by　breakers；　can　propose　to　start　again。　　They　were　in　the　middle　of　it；　and　so　short　a　way　ahead　was　the　cataract　that　ran　with　blood。　On　each　side　at　present　were　fine；　green　landing…places；　he　at　the　oar；　she　at　the　tiller；　could；　if　they　were　of　one　mind；　still　put　ashore；　could　run　their　boat　in；　declining　the　passage　of　the　cataract　with　all　its　risks；　its　river　of　blood。　　There　was　but　a　stroke　of　the　oar　to　be　made；　a　pull　on　a　rope　of　the　rudder；　and　a　step　ashore。　　Here　was　a　way　out　of　the　storm　and　the　rapids。

A　moment　before；　when；　by　their　physical　parting　they　had　realised　the　strength　of　the　bonds　that　held　them　apart　this　solution　had　not　occurred　to　Sylvia。　　Now；　critically　and　forlornly　hopeful；　it　flashed　on　her。　　She　felt；　she　almost　feltfor　the　ultimate　decision　rested　with　himthat　with　him　she　would　throw　everything　else　aside；　and　escape；　just　escape；　if　so　he　willed　it；　into　some　haven　of　neutrality；　where　he　and　she　would　be　together；　leaving　the　rest　of　the　world；　her　country　and　his；　to　fight　over　these　irreconcilable　quarrels。　　It　did　not　seem　to　matter　what　happened　to　anybody　else；　provided　only　she　and　Michael　were　together；　out　of　risk；　out　of　harm。　　Other　lives　might　be　precious；　other　ideals　and　patriotisms　might　be　at　stake；　but　she　wanted　to　be　with　him　and　nothing　else　at　all。　　No　tie　counted　compared　to　that；　there　was　but　one　life　given　to　man　and　woman；　and　now　that　her　individual　happiness；　the　individual　joy　of　her　love；　was　at　stake；　she　felt；　even　as　Michael　had　said；　that　nothing　else　mattered；　that　they　would　be　right　to　realise　themselves　at　any　cost。

She　took　his　hands　again。

〃Listen　to　me；　Michael；〃　she　said。　　〃I　can't　bear　any　longer　that　these　horrors　should　keep　rising　up　between　us；　and；　while　we　are　here　in　the　middle　of　it　all；　it　can't　be　otherwise。　　I　ask　you；　then；　to　come　away　with　me；　to　leave　it　all　behind。　　It　is　not　our　quarrel。　　Already　Hermann　has　gone；　I　can't　lose　you　too。〃

She　looked　up　at　him　for　a　moment；　and　then　quickly　away　again；　for　she　felt　her　case；　which　seemed　to　her　just　now　so　imperative；　slipping　away　from　her　in　that　glance　she　got　of　his　eyes；　that；　for　all　the　love　that　burned　there；　were　blank　with　astonishment。　She　must　convince　him；　but　her　own　convictions　were　weak　when　she　looked　at　him。

〃Don't　answer　me　yet；〃　she　said。　　〃Hear　what　I　have　to　say。　　Don't　you　see　that　while　we　are　like　this　we　are　lost　to　each　other？　　And　as　you　yourself　said　just　now；　nothing　matters　in　comparison　to　our　love。　　I　want　you　to　take　me　away；　out　of　it　all；　so　that　we　can　find　each　other　again。　　These　horrors　thwart　and　warp　us；　they　spoil　the　best　thing　that　the　world　holds　for　us。　　My　patriotism　is　just　as　sound　as　yours；　but　I　throw　it　away　to　get　you。　　Do　the　same；　then。　　You　can　get　out　of　your　service　somehow。　。　。　。〃

And　then　her　voice　began　to　falter。

〃If　you　loved　me；　you　would　do　it；〃　she　said。　　〃If〃

And　then　suddenly　she　found　she　could　say　no　more　at　all。　　She　had　hoped　that　when　she　stated　these　things　she　would　convince　him；　and；　behold；　all　she　had　done　was　to　shake　her　own　convictions　so　that　they　fell　clattering　round　her　like　an　unstable　card…house。　Desperately　she　looked　again　at　him；　wondering　if　she　had　convinced　him　at　all；　and　then　again　she　looked；　wondering　if　she　should　see　contempt　in　his　eyes。　　After　that　she　stood　still　and　silent；　and　her　face　flamed。

〃Do　you　despise　me；　Michael？〃　she　said。

He　gave　a　little　sigh　of　utter　content。

〃Oh；　my　dear；　how　I　love　you　for　suggesting　such　a　sweet　impossibility；〃　he　said。　　〃But　how　you　would　despise　me　if　I　consented。〃

She　did　not　answer。

〃Wouldn't　you？〃　he　repeated。

She　gave　a　sorrowful　semblance　of　a　laugh。

〃I　suppose　I　should；〃　she　said。

〃And　I　know　you　would。　　You　would　contrast　me　in　your　mind；　whether　you　wished　to　or　not；　with　Hermann；　with　poor　Francis；　sorely　to　my　disadvantage。〃

They　sat　silent　a　little；　but　there　was　another　question　Sylvia　had　to　ask　for　which　she　had　to　collect　her　courage。　　At　last　it　came。

〃Have　they　told　you　yet　when　you　are　going？〃　she　said。

〃Not　for　certain。　　Butit　will　be　before　many　days　are　passed。　And　the　question　ariseswill　you　marry　me　before　I　go？〃

She　hid　her　face　on　his　shoulder。

〃I　will　do　what　you　wish；〃　she　said。

〃But　I　want　to　know　your　wish。〃

She　clung　closer　to　him。

〃Michael；　I　don't　think　I　could　bear　to　part　with　you　if　we　were　married；〃　she　said。　　〃It　would　be　worse；　I　think；　than　it's　going　to　be。　　But　I　intend　to　do　exactly　what　you　wish。　　You　must　tell　me。　　I'm　going　to　obey　you　before　I　am　your　wife　as　well　as　after。〃

Michael　had　long　debated　this　in　his　mind。　　It　seemed　to　him　that　if　he　came　back；　as　might　easily　happen；　hopelessly　crippled；　incurably　invalid；　it　would　be　placing　Sylvia　in　an　unfairly　difficult　position；　if　she　was　already　his　wife。　　He　might　be　hideously　disfigured；　she　would　be　bound　to　but　a　wreck　of　a　man；　he　might　be　utterly　unfit　to　be　her　husband；　and　yet　she　would　be　tied　to　him。　　He　had　already　talked　the　question　over　with　his　father；　who；　with　that　curious　posthumous　anxiety　to　have　a　further　direct　heir；　had　urged　that　the　marriage　should　take　place　at　once；　but　with　his　own　feeling　on　the　subject；　as　well　as　Sylvia's；　he　at　once　made　up　his　mind。

〃I　agree　with　you；〃　he　said。　　〃We　will　settle　it　so；　then。〃

She　smiled　at　him。

〃How　dreadfully　business…like；〃　she　said；　with　an　attempt　at　lightness。

〃I　know。　　It's　rather　a　good　thing　one　has　got　to　be　business…like；　when〃

That　failed　also；　and　he　drew　her　to　him　and　kissed　her。


CHAPTER　XVI


Michael　was　sitting　in　the　kitchen　of　a　French　farm…house　just　outside　the　village　of　Laires；　some　three　miles　behind　the　English　front。　　The　kitchen　door　was　open；　and　on　the　flagged　floor　was　cast　an　oblong　of　primrose…coloured　November　sunshine；　warm　and　pleasant；　so　that　the　bluebottle　flies　buzzed　hopefully　about　it；　settling　occasionally　on　the　cracked　green　door；　where　they　cleaned　their　wings；　and　generally　furbished　themselves　up；　as　if　the　warmth　was　that　of　a　spring　day　that　promised　summer　to　follow。　They　were　there　in　considerable　numbers；　for　just　outside　in　the　cobbled　yard　was　a　heap　of　manure；　where　they　hungrily　congregated。　Against　the　white…washed　wall　of　the　house　there　lay　a　fat　sow；　basking　contentedly；　and　snorting　in　her　dreams。　　The　yard；　bounded　on　two　sides　by　the　house　walls；　was　shut　in　on　the　third　by　a　row　of　farm…sheds；　and　the　fourth　was　open。　　Just　outside　it　stood　a　small　copse　half　flooded　with　the　brimming　water　of　a　sluggish　stream　that　meandered　by　the　side　of　the　farm…road　leading　out　of　the　yard；　which　turned　to　the　left；　and　soon　joined　the　highway。　This　farm…road　was　partly　under　water；　though　not　deeply；　so　that　by　skirting　along　its　raised　banks　it　was　possible　to　go　dry…shod　to　the　highway　underneath　which　the　stream　passed　in　a　brick　culvert。

Through　the　kitchen　window；　set　opposite　the　door；　could　be　seen　a　broad　stretch　of　country　of　the　fenland　type；　flat　and　bare；　and　intersected　with　dykes；　where　sedges　stirred　slightly　in　the　southerly　breeze。　　Here　and　there　were　pools　of　overflowed　rivulets；　and　here　and　there　were　plantations　of　stunted　hornbeam；　the　russet　leaves　of　which　still　clung　thickly　to　them。　　But　in　the　main　it　was　a　bare　and　empty　land；　featureless　and　stolid。

Just　below　the　kitchen　window　there　was　a　plot　of　cultivated　ground；　thriftily　and　economically　used　for　the　growing　of　vegetables。　　Concession；　however；　was　made　to　the　sense　of　brightness　and　beauty；　for　on　each　side　of　the　path　leading　up　to　the　door　ran　a　row　of　Michaelmas　daisies；　rather　battered　by　the　fortnight　of　rain　which　had　preceded　this　day　of　still　warm　sun；　but　struggling　bravely　to　shake　off　the　effect　of　the　adverse　conditions　under　which　they　had　laboured。

The　kitchen　itself　was　extremely　clean　and　orderly。　　Its　flagged　floor　was　still　damp　and　brown　in　patches　from　the　washing　it　had　received　two　hours　before；　but　the　draught　between　open　window　and　open　door　was　fast　drying　it。　　Down　the　centre　of　t