一双蓝眼睛 英文版 A Pair of Blue Eyes
托马斯.哈代 Thomas Hardy
Chapter XXVII Page 1
'How should I greet thee?'
Love frequently dies of time alone--much more frequently ofdisplacement. With Elfride Swancourt, a powerful reason why thedisplacement should be successful was that the new-comer was agreater man than the first. By the side of the instructive andpiquant snubbings she received from Knight, Stephen's generalagreeableness seemed watery; by the side of Knight's spare love-making, Stephen's continual outflow seemed lackadaisical. She hadbegun to sigh for somebody further on in manhood. Stephen washardly enough of a man.
Perhaps there was a proneness to inconstancy in her nature--anature, to those who contemplate it from a standpoint beyond theinfluence of that inconstancy, the most exquisite of all in itsplasticity and ready sympathies. Partly, too, Stephen's failureto make his hold on her heart a permanent one was his too timidhabit of dispraising himself beside her--a peculiarity which,exercised towards sensible men, stirs a kindly chord of attachmentthat a marked assertiveness would leave untouched, but inevitablyleads the most sensible woman in the world to undervalue him whopractises it. Directly domineering ceases in the man, snubbingbegins in the woman; the trite but no less unfortunate fact beingthat the gentler creature rarely has the capacity to appreciatefair treatment from her natural complement. The abidingperception of the position of Stephen's parents had, of course, alittle to do with Elfride's renunciation. To such girls povertymay not be, as to the more worldly masses of humanity, a sin initself; but it is a sin, because graceful and dainty mannersseldom exist in such an atmosphere. Few women of old family canbe thoroughly taught that a fine soul may wear a smock-frock, andan admittedly common man in one is but a worm in their eyes. JohnSmith's rough hands and clothes, his wife's dialect, the necessarynarrowness of their ways, being constantly under Elfride's notice,were not without their deflecting influence.
On reaching home after the perilous adventure by the sea-shore,Knight had felt unwell, and retired almost immediately. The younglady who had so materially assisted him had done the same, but shereappeared, properly clothed, about five o'clock. She wanderedrestlessly about the house, but not on account of their jointnarrow escape from death. The storm which had torn the tree hadmerely bowed the reed, and with the deliverance of Knight all deepthought of the accident had left her. The mutual avowal which ithad been the means of precipitating occupied a far longer lengthof her meditations.
Elfride's disquiet now was on account of that miserable promise tomeet Stephen, which returned like a spectre again and again. Theperception of his littleness beside Knight grew upon heralarmingly. She now thought how sound had been her father'sadvice to her to give him up, and was as passionately desirous offollowing it as she had hitherto been averse. Perhaps there isnothing more hardening to the tone of young minds than thus todiscover how their dearest and strongest wishes become graduallyattuned by Time the Cynic to the very note of some selfish policywhich in earlier days they despised.
The hour of appointment came, and with it a crisis; and with thecrisis a collapse.
'God forgive me--I can't meet Stephen!' she exclaimed to herself.'I don't love him less, but I love Mr. Knight more!'
Yes: she would save herself from a man not fit for her--in spiteof vows. She would obey her father, and have no more to do withStephen Smith. Thus the fickle resolve showed signs of assumingthe complexion of a virtue.
The following days were passed without any definite avowal fromKnight's lips. Such solitary walks and scenes as that witnessedby Smith in the summer-house were frequent, but he courted her sointangibly that to any but such a delicate perception as Elfride'sit would have appeared no courtship at all. The time now reallybegan to be sweet with her. She dismissed the sense of sin in herpast actions, and was automatic in the intoxication of the moment.The fact that Knight made no actual declaration was no drawback.Knowing since the betrayal of his sentiments that love for herreally existed, she preferred it for the present in its form ofessence, and was willing to avoid for awhile the grosser medium ofwords. Their feelings having been forced to a rather prematuredemonstration, a reaction was indulged in by both.
But no sooner had she got rid of her troubled conscience on thematter of faithlessness than a new anxiety confronted her. It waslest Knight should accidentally meet Stephen in the parish, andthat herself should be the subject of discourse.
Elfride, learning Knight more thoroughly, perceived that, farfrom having a notion of Stephen's precedence, he had no idea thatshe had ever been wooed before by anybody. On ordinary occasionsshe had a tongue so frank as to show her whole mind, and a mind sostraightforward as to reveal her heart to its innermost shrine.But the time for a change had come. She never alluded to even aknowledge of Knight's friend. When women are secret they aresecret indeed; and more often than not they only begin to besecret with the advent of a second lover.
The elopement was now a spectre worse than the first, and, likethe Spirit in Glenfinlas, it waxed taller with every attempt tolay it. Her natural honesty invited her to confide in Knight, andtrust to his generosity for forgiveness: she knew also that asmere policy it would be better to tell him early if he was to betold at all. The longer her concealment the more difficult wouldbe the revelation. But she put it off. The intense fear whichaccompanies intense love in young women was too strong to allowthe exercise of a moral quality antagonistic to itself:
'Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear;Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.'
The match was looked upon as made by her father and mother. Thevicar remembered her promise to reveal the meaning of the telegramshe had received, and two days after the scene in the summer-house, asked her pointedly. She was frank with him now.
'I had been corresponding with Stephen Smith ever since he leftEngland, till lately,' she calmly said.
'What!' cried the vicar aghast; 'under the eyes of Mr. Knight,too?'
'No; when I found I cared most for Mr. Knight, I obeyed you.'
'You were very kind, I'm sure. When did you begin to like Mr.Knight?'
'I don't see that that is a pertinent question, papa; the telegramwas from the shipping agent, and was not sent at my request. Itannounced the arrival of the vessel bringing him home.'
'Home! What, is he here?'
'Yes; in the village, I believe.'
'Has he tried to see you?'
'Only by fair means. But don't, papa, question me so! It istorture.'
'I will only say one word more,' he replied. 'Have you met him?'
'I have not. I can assure you that at the present moment there isno more of an understanding between me and the young man you somuch disliked than between him and you. You told me to forgethim; and I have forgotten him.'
'Oh, well; though you did not obey me in the beginning, you are agood girl, Elfride, in obeying me at last.'
'Don't call me "good," papa,' she said bitterly; 'you don't know--and the less said about some things the better. Remember, Mr.Knight knows nothing about the other. Oh, how wrong it all is! Idon't know what I am coming to.'
'As matters stand, I should be inclined to tell him; or, at anyrate, I should not alarm myself about his knowing. He found outthe other day that this was the parish young Smith's father livesin--what puts you in such a flurry?'
'I can't say; but promise--pray don't let him know! It would be myruin!'
'Pooh, child. Knight is a good fellow and a clever man; but atthe same time it does not escape my perceptions that he is nogreat catch for you. Men of his turn of mind are nothing sowonderful in the way of husbands. If you had chosen to wait, youmight have mated with a much wealthier man. But remember, I havenot a word to say against your having him, if you like him.Charlotte is delighted, as you know.'
'Well, papa,' she said, smiling hopefully through a sigh, 'it isnice to feel that in giving way to--to caring for him, I havepleased my family. But I am not good; oh no, I am very far fromthat!'
'None of us are good, I am sorry to say,' said her father blandly;'but girls have a chartered right to change their minds, you know.It has been recognized by poets from time immemorial. Catullussays, "Mulier cupido quod dicit amanti, in vento--' What a memorymine is! However, the passage is, that a woman's words to a loverare as a matter of course written only on wind and water. Nowdon't be troubled about that, Elfride.'
'Ah, you don't know!'
They had been standing on the lawn, and Knight was now seenlingering some way down a winding walk. When Elfride met him, itwas with a much greater lightness of heart; things were morestraightforward now. The responsibility of her fickleness seemedpartly shifted from her own shoulders to her father's. Still,there were shadows.
'Ah, could he have known how far I went with Stephen, and yet havesaid the same, how much happier I should be!' That was herprevailing thought.
In the afternoon the lovers went out together on horseback for anhour or two; and though not wishing to be observed, by reason ofthe late death of Lady Luxellian, whose funeral had taken placevery privately on the previous day, they yet found it necessary topass East Endelstow Church.
The steps to the vault, as has been stated, were on the outside ofthe building, immediately under the aisle wall. Being onhorseback, both Knight and Elfride could overlook the shrubs whichscreened the church-yard.
'Look, the vault seems still to be open,' said Knight.
'Yes, it is open,' she answered
'Who is that man close by it? The mason, I suppose?'
the fickle resolve showed signs of assumingthe complexion.
'Yes.'
'I wonder if it is John Smith, Stephen's father?'
'I believe it is,' said Elfride, with apprehension.
'Ah, and can it be? I should like to inquire how his son, mytruant protege', is going on. And from your father's descriptionof the vault, the interior must be interesting. Suppose we goin.'
'Had we better, do you think? May not Lord Luxellian be there?'
'It is not at all likely.'
Elfride then assented, since she could do nothing else. Herheart, which at first had quailed in consternation, recovereditself when she considered the character of John Smith. A quietunassuming man, he would be sure to act towards her as beforethose love passages with his son, which might have given a morepretentious mechanic airs. So without much alarm she tookKnight's arm after dismounting, and went with him between and overthe graves. The master-mason recognized her as she approached,and, as usual, lifted his hat respectfully.
'I know you to be Mr. Smith, my former friend Stephen's father,'said Knight, directly he had scanned the embrowned and ruddyfeatures of John.
'Yes, sir, I b'lieve I be.'
'How is your son now? I have only once heard from him since hewent to India. I daresay you have heard him speak of me--Mr.Knight, who became acquainted with him some years ago inExonbury.'
'Ay, that I have. Stephen is very well, thank you, sir, and he'sin England; in fact, he's at home. In short, sir, he's down inthe vault there, a-looking at the departed coffins.'
Elfride's heart fluttered like a butterfly.
Knight looked amazed. 'Well, that is extraordinary.' he murmured.'Did he know I was in the parish?'
'I really can't say, sir,' said John, wishing himself out of theentanglement he rather suspected than thoroughly understood.
'Would it be considered an intrusion by the family if we went intothe vault?'
'Oh, bless ye, no, sir; scores of folk have been stepping down.'Tis left open a-purpose.'
'We will go down, Elfride.'
'I am afraid the air is close,' she said appealingly.
'Oh no, ma'am,' said John. 'We white-limed the walls and archesthe day 'twas opened, as we always do, and again on the morning ofthe funeral; the place is as sweet as a granary.
of course, if you have weighty concerns to.
'Then I should like you to accompany me, Elfie; having originallysprung from the family too.'
'I don't like going where death is so emphatically present. I'llstay by the horses whilst you go in; they may get loose.'
'What nonsense! I had no idea your sentiments were so flimsilyformed as to be perturbed by a few remnants of mortality; but stayout, if you are so afraid, by all means.'
'Oh no, I am not afraid; don't say that.'
She held miserably to his arm, thinking that, perhaps, therevelation might as well come at once as ten minutes later, forStephen would be sure to accompany his friend to his horse.
At first, the gloom of the vault, which was lighted only by acouple of candles, was too great to admit of their seeing anythingdistinctly; but with a further advance Knight discerned, in frontof the black masses lining the walls, a young man standing, andwriting in a pocket-book.
Knight said one word: 'Stephen!'
Stephen Smith, not being in such absolute ignorance of Knight'swhereabouts as Knight had been of Smith's instantly recognized hisfriend, and knew by rote the outlines of the fair woman standingbehind him.
Stephen came forward and shook him by the hand, without speaking.
'Why have you not written, my boy?' said Knight, without in anyway signifying Elfride's presence to Stephen. To the essayist,Smith was still the country lad whom he had patronized and tended;one to whom the formal presentation of a lady betrothed to himselfwould have seemed incongruous and absurd.
'Why haven't you written to me?' said Stephen.
'Ah, yes. Why haven't I? why haven't we? That's always the querywhich we cannot clearly answer without an unsatisfactory sense ofour inadequacies. However, I have not forgotten you, Smith. Andnow we have met; and we must meet again, and have a longer chatthan this can conveniently be. I must know all you have beendoing. That yon have thriven, I know, and you must teach me theway.'
Elfride stood in the background. Stephen had read the position ata glance, and immediately guessed that she had never mentioned hisname to Knight. His tact in avoiding catastrophes was the chiefquality which made him intellectually respectable, in whichquality he far transcended Knight; and he decided that a tranquilissue out of the encounter, without any harrowing of the feelingsof either Knight or Elfride, was to be attempted if possible. Hisold sense of indebtedness to Knight had never wholly forsaken him;his love for Elfride was generous now.
As far as he dared look at her movements he saw that her bearingtowards him would be dictated by his own towards her; and if heacted as a stranger she would do likewise as a means ofdeliverance. Circumstances favouring this course, it wasdesirable also to be rather reserved towards Knight, to shortenthe meeting as much as possible.
'I am afraid that my time is almost too short to allow even ofsuch a pleasure,' he said. 'I leave here to-morrow. And until Istart for the Continent and India, which will be in a fortnight, Ishall have hardly a moment to spare.'
Knight's disappointment and dissatisfied looks at this reply senta pang through Stephen as great as any he had felt at the sight ofElfride. The words about shortness of time were literally true,but their tone was far from being so. He would have beengratified to talk with Knight as in past times, and saw as a deadloss to himself that, to save the woman who cared nothing for him,he was deliberately throwing away his friend.
'Oh, I am sorry to hear that,' said Knight, in a changed tone.'But of course, if you have weighty concerns to attend to, theymust not be neglected. And if this is to be our first and lastmeeting, let me say that I wish you success with all my heart!'Knight's warmth revived towards the end; the solemn impressions hewas beginning to receive from the scene around them abstractingfrom his heart as a puerility any momentary vexation at words.'It is a strange place for us to meet in,' he continued, lookinground the vault.
, if you have weighty concerns to attend to, theymust not.
Stephen briefly assented, and there was a silence. The blackenedcoffins were now revealed more clearly than at first, the whitenedwalls and arches throwing them forward in strong relief. It was ascene which was remembered by all three as an indelible mark intheir history. Knight, with an abstracted face, was standingbetween his companions, though a little in advance of them,Elfride being on his right hand, and Stephen Smith on his left.The white daylight on his right side gleamed faintly in, and wastoned to a blueness by contrast with the yellow rays from thecandle against the wall. Elfride, timidly shrinking back, andnearest the entrance, received most of the light therefrom, whilstStephen was entirely in candlelight, and to him the spot of outersky visible above the steps was as a steely blue patch, andnothing more.
'I have been here two or three times since it was opened,' saidStephen. 'My father was engaged in the work, you know.'
'Yes. What are you doing?' Knight inquired, looking at the note-book and pencil Stephen held in his hand.
'I have been sketching a few details in the church, and since thenI have been copying the names from some of the coffins here.Before I left England I used to do a good deal of this sort ofthing.'
'Yes; of course. Ah, that's poor Lady Luxellian, I suppose.'Knight pointed to a coffin of light satin-wood, which stood on thestone sleepers in the new niche. 'And the remainder of the familyare on this side. Who are those two, so snug and close together?'
Stephen's voice altered slightly as he replied 'That's LadyElfride Kingsmore--born Luxellian, and that is Arthur, herhusband. I have heard my father say that they--he--ran away withher, and married her against the wish of her parents.'
'Then I imagine this to be where you got your Christian name, MissSwancourt?' said Knight, turning to her. 'I think you told me itwas three or four generations ago that your family branched offfrom the Luxellians?'
'She was my grandmother,' said Elfride, vainly endeavouring tomoisten her dry lips before she spoke. Elfride had then theconscience-stricken look of Guido's Magdalen, rendered upon a morechildlike form. She kept her face partially away from Knight andStephen, and set her eyes upon the sky visible outside, as if hersalvation depended upon quickly reaching it. Her left hand restedlightly within Knight's arm, half withdrawn, from a sense of shameat claiming him before her old lover, yet unwilling to renouncehim; so that her glove merely touched his sleeve. '"Can one bepardoned, and retain the offence?"' quoted Elfride's heart then.
Conversation seemed to have no self-sustaining power, and went onin the shape of disjointed remarks. 'One's mind gets throngedwith thoughts while standing so solemnly here,' Knight said, in ameasured quiet voice. 'How much has been said on death from timeto time! how much we ourselves can think upon it! We may fancyeach of these who lie here saying: