the deliverance-第53部分

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n　inner　standard　of　purity　rather　than　by　outward　forms。　In　the　largeness　of　her　nature　there　had　been　small　room　for　regret　or　for　wasted　passion；　and　until　her　meeting　with　Christopher　on　the　day　of　her　homecoming　he　had　existed　in　her　imagination　only　as　a　bright　and　impossible　memory。　Now；　as　she　went　rapidly　forward　along　the　little　path　that　edged　the　field；　she　found　herself　wondering　if；　after　all；　she　had　worn　unconsciously　his　ideal　as　an　armour　against　the　petty　temptations　and　the　sudden　melancholies　of　the　last　six　years。

As　she　neared　the　fence　that　divided　the　two　farms　she　saw　him　walking　slowly　along　a　newly　turned　furrow；　and　when　he　looked　up　she　lifted　the　lantern　and　waved　it　in　the　air。　Quickening　his　steps；　he　swung　himself　over　the　rail　fence　with　a　single　bound；　and　came　to　where　she　stood　amid　a　dried　fringe　of　last　summer's　yarrow。

〃So　you　are　none　the　worse　for　the　night　in　the　barn？〃　he　asked　anxiously。

〃Why；　I　dreamed　the　most　beautiful　dreams；〃　she　replied；　〃and　I　had　the　most　perfect　sleep　in　the　world。〃

〃Then　the　mice　kept　away？〃

〃At　least　they　didn't　wake　me。〃

〃I　stayed　within　call　until　sunrise；〃　he　said　quietly。　〃You　were　not　afraid？〃

Her　rare　smile　shone　suddenly　upon　him；　illumining　the　delicate　pallor　of　her　face。　〃I　knew　that　you　were　there；〃　she　answered。

For　a　moment　he　gazed　steadily　into　her　eyes；　then　with　a　decisive　movement　he　took　the　lantern　from　her　hand　and　turned　as　though　about　to　go　back　to　his　work。

〃It　was　very　kind　of　you　to　bring　this　over；〃　he　said；　pausing　beside　the　fence。

〃Kind？　Why；　what　did　you　expect？　I　knew　it　might　hang　there　forever；　but　you　would　not　come　for　it。〃

〃No；　I　should　not　have　come　for　it；〃　he　replied；　swinging　the　lantern　against　the　rails　with　such　force　that　the　glass　shattered　and　fell　in　pieces　to　the　ground。

〃Why；　what　a　shame！〃　said　Maria；　〃and　it　is　all　my　fault。〃

A　smile　was　on　his　face　as　he　looked　at　her。

〃You　are　rightit　is　all　your　fault；〃　he　repeated；　while　his　gaze　dropped　to　the　level　of　her　lips　and　hung　there　for　a　breathless　instant。

With　an　effort　she　broke　the　spell　which　had　fallen　over　her；　and；　turning　from　him；　pointed　to　the　old　Blake　graveyard　on　the　little　hill。

〃Those　black　cedars　have　tempted　me　for　days；〃　she　said。　〃Will　you　tell　me　what　dust　they　guard　so　faithfully？〃

He　followed　her　gesture　with　a　frown。

〃I　will　show　you；　if　you　like；〃　he　answered。　〃It　is　the　only　spot　on　earth　where　I　may　offer　you　hospitality。〃

〃Your　people　are　buried　there？〃

〃For　two　hundred　years。　Will　you　come？〃

While　she　hesitated；　he　tossed　the　lantern　over　into　his　field　and　came　closer　to　her　side。　〃Come；〃　he　repeated　gently；　and　at　his　voice　a　faint　flush　spread　slowly　from　her　throat　to　the　loosened　hair　upon　her　forehead。　The　steady　glow　gave　her　face　a　light；　a　radiance；　that　he　had　never　seen　there　until　to…day。

〃Yes；　I　will　come　if　you　wish　it；〃　she　responded　quietly。

Together　they　went　slowly　up　the　low；　brown　incline　over　the　clods　of　upturned　earth。　When　they　reached　the　bricked…up　wall；　which　had　crumbled　away　in　places；　he　climbed　over　into　the　bed　of　periwinkle　and　then　held　out　his　hands　to　assist　her　in　descending。　〃Here；　step　into　that　hollow；〃　he　said；　〃and　don't　jump　till　I　tell　you。　Ah；　that's　it；　now；　I'm　ready。〃

At　his　words；　she　made　a　sudden。　spring　forward；　her　dress　caught　on　the　wall；　and　she　slipped　lightly　into　his　outstretched　arms。　For　the　half　of　a　second　he　held　her　against　his　breast；　then；　as　she　released　herself；　he　drew　back　and　lifted　his　eves　to　meet　the　serene　composure　of　her　expression。　He　was　conscious　that　his　own　face　flamed　red　hot；　but　to　all　outward　seeming　she　had　not　noticed　the　incident　which　had　so　moved　him。　The　calm　distinction　of　her　bearing　struck　him　as　forcibly　as　it　had　done　at　their　first　meeting。　〃What　a　solemn　place；〃　she　said；　lowering　her　voice　as　she　looked　about　her。

For　answer　he　drew　aside　the　screening　boughs　of　a　cedar　and　motioned　to　the　discoloured　marble　slabs　strewn　thickly　under　the　trees。

〃Here　are　my　people；〃　he　returned　gravely。　〃And　here　is　my　ground。〃

Pausing；　she　glanced　down　on　his　father's　grave；　reading　with　difficulty　the　inscription　beneath　the　dry　dust　from　the　cedars。

〃He　lived　to　be　very　old；〃　she　said；　after　a　moment。

〃Seventy　years。　He　lived　exactly　ten　years　too　long。〃

〃Too　long？〃

〃Those　last　ten　years　wrecked　him。　Had　he　died　at　sixty　he　would　have　died　happy。〃

He　turned　from　her；　throwing　himself　upon　the　carpet　of　periwinkle；　and　coming　to　where　he　lay；　she　sat　down　on　a　granite　slab　at　his　side。

〃One　must　believe　that　there　is　a　purpose　in　it；〃　she　responded；　raising　a　handful　of　fine　dust　and　sifting　it　through　her　fingers；　〃or　one　would　go　mad　over　the　mystery　of　things。〃

〃Well；　I　dare　say　the　purpose　was　to　make　me　a　tobacco…grower；〃　he　replied　grimly；　〃and　if　so；　it　has　fulfilled　itself　in　a　precious　way。　Why；　there's　never　been　a　time　since　I　was　ten　years　old　when　I　wouldn't　have　changed　places；　and　said　'thank　you；'　too；　with　any　one　of　those　old　fellows　over　there。　They　were　jolly　chaps；　I　tell　you；　and　led　jolly　lives。　It　used　to　be　said　of　them　that　they　never　won　a　penny　nor　missed　a　kiss。〃

〃Nor　learned　a　lesson；　evidently。　Well；　may　they　rest　in　peace；　but　I'm　not　sure　that　their　wisdom　would　carry　far。　There　are　better　things　than　gaming　and　kissing；　when　all　is　said。〃

〃Better　things？　Perhaps。〃

〃Have　you　not　found　them？〃

〃Not　yet；　but　then；　I　can't　judge　anything　except　tobacco；　you　know。〃

For　a　long　pause　she　looked　down　into　his　upturned　face。

〃After　all；　it　isn't　the　way　we　live　nor　the　work　we　do　that　matters；〃　she　said　slowly；　〃but　the　ideal　we　put　into　it。　Is　there　any　work　too　sordid；　too　prosaic；　to　yield　a　return　of　beauty？〃

〃Do　you　think　so？〃　he　asked；　and　glanced　down　the　hill　to　his　ploughshare　lying　in　the　ripped…up　field。　〃But　it　is　not　beauty　that　some　of　us　want；　you　seeit's　success；　action；　happiness；　call　it　what　you　will。〃

〃Surely　they　are　not　the　same。　I　have　known　many　successful　people；　and　the　only　three　perfectly　happy　ones　I　ever　met　were　what　the　world　calls　failures。〃

〃Failures？〃　he　echoed；　and　remembered　Tucker。

Her　face　softened；　and　she　looked　beyond　him　to　the　blue　sky；　shining　through　the　interlacing　branches　of　bared　trees。

〃Two　were　women；〃　she　pursued；　clasping　and　unclasping　the　quiet　hands　in　her　lap；　〃and　one　was　a　Catholic　priest　who　had　been　reared　in　a　foundling　asylum　and　educated　by　charity。　When　I　knew　him　he　was　on　his　way　to　a　leper　island　in　the　South　Seas；　where　he　would　be　buried　alive　for　the　remainder　of　his　life。　All　he　had　was　an　ideal；　but　it　flooded　his　soul　with　light。　Another　was　a　Russian　Nihilist；　a　girl　in　years　and　yet　an　atheist　and　a　revolutionist　in　thought；　and　her　unbelief　was　in　its　way　as　beautiful　as　the　religion　of　my　priest。　To　return　to　Russia　meant　death；　she　knew；　and　yet　she　went　back；　devoted　and　exalted；　to　lay　down　her　life　for　an　illusion。　So　it　seems；　when　one　looks　about　the　world；　that　faith　and　doubt　are　dry　and　inanimate　forms　until　we　pour　forth　our　heart's　blood；　which　vivifies　them。〃

She　fell　silent；　and　he　started　and　touched　softly　the　hem　of　her　black　skirt。

〃And　the　other？〃　he　asked。

〃The　other　had　a　stranger　and　a　longer　story；　but　if　you　will　listen　I'll　tell　it　to　you。　She　was　an　Italian；　of　a　very　old　and　proud　family；　and　as　she　possessed　rare　loveliness　and　charm；　a　marriage　was　arranged　for　her　with　a　wealthy　nobleman；　who　had　fallen　in　love　with　her　before　she　left　her　convent。　She　was　a　rebellious　soul；　it　seems；　for　the　day　before　her　wedding；　just　after　she　had　patiently　tried　on　her　veil　and　orange　blossoms；　she　slipped　into　the　dress　of　her　waiting…maid　and　ran　off　with　a　music…teachera　beggarly　fanatic；　they　told　mea　man　of　red　republican　views；　who　put　dangerous　ideas　into　the　heads　of　the　peasantry。　From　that　moment；　they　said；　her　life　was　over；　her　family　shut　their　doors　upon　her；　and　she　fell　finally　so　low　as　to　be　seen　one　evening　singing　in　the　public　streets。　Her　story　touched　me　when　I　heard　it：　it　seemed　a　pitiable　thing　that　a　woman　should　be　wrecked　so　hopelessly　by　a　single　moment　of　mistaken　courage；　and　after　months　of　searching　I　at　last　found　the　place　she　lived　in；　and　went　one　May　evening　up　the　long　winding　staircase　to　her　apartmenttwo　clean；　plain　rooms　which　looked　on　a　little　balcony　where　there　were　pots　of　sweet　basil　and　many　pigeons。　At　my　knock　the　door　opened；　and　I　knew　her　at　once　in　the　beautiful　white　face　and　hands　of　the　woman　who　stood　a　little　back　in　the　shadow。　Her　forty　years　had　not　coarsened　her　as　they　do　most　Italian　women；　and　her　eyes　still　held　the　unshaken　confidence　of　extreme　youth。　Her　husband　was　sleeping　in　the　next　room；　she　said；　he　had　but　a　few　days　more　to　live；　and　he　had　been　steadily　dying　for　a　year。　Then；　at　my　gesture　of　sympathy；　she　shook　her　head　and　smiled。

〃I　have　had　twenty　years；〃　she　said；　〃and　I　have　been　perfectly　happy。　Think　of　that　when　so　many　women　die　without　having　even　a　single　day　of　life。　Why；　but　for　the　one　instant　of　courage　that　saved　me；　I　myself　might　have　known　the　world　only　as　a　vegetable　knows　the　garden　in　which　it　fattens。　My　soul　has　lived；　and　though　I　have　been　hungry　and　cold　and　poorly　clad；　I　have　never　sunk　to　the　level　of　what　they　would　have　made　me。　He　is　a　dreamer；〃　she　finished　gently；　〃and　though　his　dreams　were　nourished　upon　air；　and　never　came　true　except　in　our　thoughts；　still　they　have　touched　even　the　most　common　things　with　beauty。〃　While　she　talked；　he　awoke　and　called　her；　and　we　went　in　to　see　him。　He　complained　a　little　fretfully　that　his　feet　were　cold；　and　she　knelt　down　and　warmed　them　in　the　shawl　upon　her　bosom。　The　mark　of　death　was　on　him；　and　I　doubt　if　even　in　the　fulness　of　his　strength　he　were　worthy　of　the　passion　he　inspiredbut　that；　after　all；　makes　little　difference。　It　was　a　great　love；　which　is　the　next　best　thing　to　a　great　faith。〃

As　she　ended；　he　raised　his　eyes　slowly；　catching　the　fervour　of　her　glance。

〃It　was　more　than　thatit　was　a　great　deliverance；〃　he　said。

Then；　as　she　rose；　he　followed　her　from　the　graveyard；　and　they　descended　the　low　brown　hill