the deliverance-第72部分

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p。　〃How　are　you；　Matthew？　Hello；　Fred！〃

Tom　drew　back；　coughing；　and　scraped　the　heel　of　his　boot　on　the　topmost　step。

〃We　didn't　mean　to　git　you　out　of　bed；　Mr。　Christopher；〃　he　explained　apologetically；　〃but　the　truth　is　we　want　Will　Fletcher　an'　he　ain't　at　home。　The　old　man's　murdered；　suh。〃

〃Murdered；　is　he？〃　exclaimed　Christopher；　with　a　long　whistle；　〃and　you　want　Will　Fletcherwhich　shows　what　a　very　pretty　sheriff　you　would　make。　Well；　if　you're　so　strong　on　his　scent　that　you　can't　turn　aside；　most　likely　you'll　find　him　sleeping　off　his　drunk　under　my　haystack。　But　if　you're　looking　for　the　man　who　killed　Bill　Fletcher；　then　that's　a　different　matter；？　he　added；　taking　down　his　hat；　〃and　I　reckon；　boys；　I'm　about　ready　to　come　along。〃



CHAPTER　X。　The　Wheel　of　Life

Throughout　the　trial　he　wore　the　sullen　reserve　which　closed　over　him　like　a　visor　when　he　approached　one　of　the　crises　of　life。　He　had　made　his　confession　and　he　stood　to　it。　〃I　killed　Bill　Fletcher〃　he　gave　out　flatly　enough。　What　he　could　not　give　was　an　explanation　of　his　unaccountable　presence　at　the　Hall　so　nearly　upon　midnight。　When　the　question　was　first　put　to　him　he　sneered　and　shrugged　his　shoulders　with　the　hereditary　gesture　of　the　Blakes。　〃Why　was　he　there？　Well；　why　wasn't　he　there？〃　That　was　all。　And　Carraway；　who　had　stood　by　his　side　since　the　day　of　the　arrest；　retired　at　last　before　an　attitude　which　he　characterised　as　one　of　defiant　arrogance。

It　was　this　attitude；　people　said　presently；　rather　than　the　murder　of　Bill　Fletcher；　which　brought　him　the　sentence　he　heard　with　so　insolent　an　indifference。

〃Five　years　wasn't　much　for　killin'　a　man；　maybe；〃　Tom　Spade　observed；　〃but　it　was　a　good　deal；　when　you　come　to　think　of　it；　for　a　Blake　to　pay　jest　for　gettin'　even　with　a　Fletcher。　Why；　he　might　have　brained　Bill　Fletcher　an'　welcome；〃　the　storekeeper　added　a　little　wistfully；　〃if　only　he　hadn't　put　on　such　a　nasty　manner　afterward。〃

But　it　was　behind　this　impregnable　reserve　that　Christopher　retreated　as　into　a　walled　fortress。　There　had　been　no　sentiment　in　his　act；　he　told　himself；　he　had　not　even　felt　the　romantic　fervour　of　the　sacrifice。　A　certain　staunch　justice　was　all　he　saw　in　it；　relieved　doubtless　by　a　share　of　his　hereditary　love　of　desperate　hopesof　the　hotheaded　clinging　to　that　last　shifting　foothold　on　which　a　man　might　still　make　his　fight　against　the　power　of　circumstance。　And　so；　with　that　strange　mixture　of　rustic　crudeness　and　aristocratic　arrogance；　he　turned　his　face　from　his　friends　and　went　stubbornly　through　the　cross…questioning　of　the　court。

》From　first　to　last　he　had　not　wavered　in　his　refusal　to　see　Maria；　and　there　had　been　an　angry　vehemence　in　the　resistance　he　had　made　to　her　passionate　entreaty　for　a　meeting。　When　by　the　early　autumn　he　went　from　the　little　town　gaol　to　serve　his　five　years　in　the　State　prison；　his　most　vivid　memory　of　her　was　as　she　looked　with　the　moonlight　on　her　face　in　the　open　field。　As　the　months　went　on；　this　gradually　grew　remote　and　dim　in　his　remembrance；　like　a　bright　star　over　which　the　clouds　thicken；　and　his　thoughts　declined；　almost　without　an　upward　inspiration；　upon　the　brutal　level　of　his　daily　life。　Mere　physical　disgust　was　his　first　violent　recoil　from　what　had　seemed　a　curious　deadness　of　his　whole　nature；　and　the　awakening　of　the　senses　preceded　by　many　months　the　final　resurrection　of　the　more　spiritual　emotions。　The　sources　of　health　were　still　abundant　in　him；　he　admitted；　if　the　vile　air；　the　fetid　smells；　the　closeness　as　of　huddled　animals；　the　filth；　the　obscenity；　the　insufferable　bestial　humanity　could　arouse　in　him　a　bodily　nausea　so　nearly　resembling　disease。　There　were　moments　when　he　felt　capable　of　any　crime　from　sheer　frenzied　loathing　of　his　surroundingswhen　for　the　sake　of　the　clean　space　of　the　tobacco　fields　and　the　pure　water　of　the　little　spring　he　would　have　murdered　Bill　Fletcher　a　dozen　times。　As　for　the　old　man's　death　in　itself；　it　had　never　caused　him　so　much　as　a　quiver　of　the　conscience。　Bill　Fletcher　deserved　to　die；　and　the　world　was　well　rid　of　himthat　was　all。

But　his　own　misery！　This　was　with　him　always；　and　there　was　no　escape　from　the　moral　wretchedness　which　seemed　to　follow　so　closely　upon　crime。　Fresh　from　the　open　country　and　the　keen　winds　that　blow　over　level　spaces；　he　seemed　mentally　and　physically　to　wither　in　the　change　of　airto　shrink　slowly　to　the　perishing　root；　like　a　plant　that　has　been　brought　from　a　rich　meadow　to　the　aridity　of　the　closepacked　city。　And　with　the　growing　of　this　strange　form　of　homesickness　he　would　be　driven；　at　times；　into　an　almost　delirious　cruelty　toward　those　who　were　weaker　than　himself；　for　there　were　summer　nights　when　he　would　brutally　knock　smaller　men　from　the　single　window　of　the　cell　and　cling；　panting　for　breath；　to　the　iron　bars。　As　the　year　went　on；　his　grim　silence；　too；　became　for　those　around　him　as　the　inevitable　shadow　of　the　prison；　and　he　went　about　his　daily　work　in　a　churlish　loneliness　which　caused　even　the　convicts　among　whom　he　lived　to　shrink　back　from　his　presence。

Then　with　the　closing　of　the　second　winter　his　superb　physical　strength　snapped　suddenly　like　a　cord　that　has　stood　too　tight　a　strain；　and　for　weeks　he　lingered　between　life　and　death　in　the　hospital；　into　which　he　was　carried　while　yet　unconscious。　With　his　returning　health；　when　the　abatement　of　the　fever　left　him　strangely　shaken　and　the　unearthly　pallor　still　clung　to　his　face　and　hands；　he　awoke　for　the　first　time　to　a　knowledge　that　his　illness　had　altered　for　the　period　of　his　convalescence；　at　least　the　vision　through　which　he　had　grown　to　regard　the　world。

A　change　had　come　to　him；　in　that　mysterious　borderland　so　near　the　grave；　and　the　bare　places　in　his　soul　had　burst　suddenly　into　fulfilment。　Sitting　one　Sunday　morning　in　the　open　court　of　the　prison；　with　his　thin　white　hands　hanging　between　his　knees　and　his　head；　cropped　now　of　its　thick；　fair　hair；　raised　to　the　sunshine；　it　seemed　to　him　that；　like　Tucker　on　the　old　bench；　he　had　learned　at　last　how　to　be　happy。　The　warm　sun　in　his　face；　the　blue　sky　straight　overhead；　the　spouting　fountain　from　which　a　sparrow　drank；　produced　in　him　a　recognition；　wholly　passionless；　of　the　abundant　physical　beauty　of　the　earthof　a　beauty　in　the　blue　sky　and　in　the　clear　sunshine　falling　upon　the　prison　court。

A　month　ago　he　had　wondered　almost　hopefully　if　his　was　to　be　one　of　those　pathetic　sunken　graves；　marked　for　so　brief　a　time　by　wooden　headboards　the　graves　of　the　men　who　had　died　within　the　wallsand　now　there　pulsed　through　him；　sitting　there　alone；　a　quiet　satisfaction　in　the　thought　that　he　might　still　breathe　the　air　and　look　into　men's　faces　and　see　the　blue　sky　overhead。　The　sky　in　itself！　That　was　enough　to　fill　one's　memory　to　overflowing；　Tucker　had　said。

A　tall；　lean　convict；　newly　released　from　the　hospital；　crossed　the　court　at　a　stumbling　pace　and　stood　for　a　moment　at　his　side。

〃I　reckon　you're　hankerin'；　he　remarked。　〃I　was　sent　down　here　from　the　mountains；　an'　I　hanker　terrible　for　the　sight　of　the　old　Humpback　Knob。〃

〃And　I'd　like　to　see　a　level　sweephardly　a　hill；　just　a　clean　stretch　for　the　wind　to　blow　over　the　tobacco。〃

〃You're　from　the　tobaccy　belt；　then；　ain't　you？　What　are　you　here　for？〃

〃Killing　a　man。　And　you？〃

〃Killin'　two。〃

He　limped　off　at　his　feeble　step；　and　Christopher　rubbed　his　hands　in　the　warm　sunshine　and　wondered　how　it　would　feel　to　bask　on　one　of　the　old　logs　by　the　roadside。

That　afternoon　Jim　Weatherby　came　to　see　him；　bringing　the　news　that　Lila's　baby　had　come　and　that　she　had　named　it　Christopher。　〃It's　the　living　image　of　you；　she　says；〃　he　added；　smiling；　〃but　I　confess　I　can't　quite　see　it。　The　funny　part　is；　you　know；　that　Cynthia　is　just　as　crazy　about　it　as　Lila　is；　and　she　looks　ten　years　younger　since　the　little　chap　came。〃

〃And　Uncle　Tucker？〃

〃His　old　wounds　trouble　him；　but　he　sent　you　word　he　was　waiting　to　go　till　you　came　back　again。〃

A　blur　swam　before　Christopher's　eyes；　and　he　saw　in　fancy　the　old　soldier　waiting　for　him　on　the　bench　beside　the　damask　rose…bush。

〃And　the　othersand　Maria　Wyndham？〃　he　asked；　swallowing　the　lump　in　his　throat。

Jim　reached　out　and　laid　his　hand　on　the　broad　stripes　across　the　other's　shoulder。

〃She　was　with　Mr。　Tucker　when　he　said　that；〃　he　replied；　〃they　are　always　together　now；　and　she　added；　Tell　him　we　shall　wait　together　till　he　comes。〃

The　tears　which　had　blinded　Christopher's　eyes　fell　down　upon　his　clasped　hands。

〃My　God！　Let　me　live　to　go　back！〃　he　cried　out　in　his　weakness。

》From　this　time　the　element　of　hope　entered　into　his　life；　and　like　its　shadow　there　came　the　brooding　fear　that　he　should　not　live　to　see　the　year　of　his　release。　With　his　declining　health　he　had　been　given　lighter　work　in　the　prison　factory；　but　the　small　tasks　seemed　to　him　heavier　than　the　large　ones　he　remembered。　There　was　no　disease；　the　physician　in　the　hospital　assured　him；　it　was　only　his　unusual　form　of　homesickness　feeding　upon　his　weakened　frame。　Let　him　return　once　more　to　the　outdoor　life　and　the　fresh　air　of　the　tobacco　fields　and　within　six　months　his　old　physical　hardihood　would　revive。

It　was　noticeable　at　this　time　that　the　quiet　tolerance　which　had　grown　upon　him　in　his　convalescence　drew　to　him　the　sympathy　which　he　had　at　first　repulsed。　The　interest　awakened　in　the　beginning　by　some　rare　force　of　attraction　in　his　mere　bodily　presence　became　now；　when　he　had　fallen　away　to　what　seemed　the　shadow　of　himself；　a　friendly　and　almost　affectionate　curiosity　concerning　his　earlier　history。　With　this　there　grew　slowly　a　rough　companionship　between　him　and　the　men　among　whom　he　lived；　and　he　found　presently　to　his　surprise　that　there　was　hardly　one　of　them　but　had　some　soft　spot　in　his　charactersome　particular　virtue　which　was　still　alive。　The　knowledge　of　good　and　evil　thrust　upon　him　in　these　months　was　not　without　effect　in　developing　a　certain　largeness　of　outlook　upon　humanitya　kind　of　generous　philosophy　which　remained　with　him　afterward　in　the　form　of　a　peculiar　mellowness　of　temperament。

The　autumn　of　his　third　year　was　already　closing　when；　being　sent　for　one　morni