一双蓝眼睛 英文版 A Pair of Blue Eyes
托马斯.哈代 Thomas Hardy
Chapter XXXIII
'O daughter of Babylon, wasted with misery.'
A habit of Knight's, when not immediately occupied with Elfride--to walk by himself for half an hour or so between dinner andbedtime--had become familiar to his friends at Endelstow, Elfrideherself among them. When he had helped her over the stile, shesaid gently, 'If you wish to take your usual turn on the hill,Harry, I can run down to the house alone.'
'Thank you, Elfie; then I think I will.'
Her form diminished to blackness in the moonlight, and Knight,after remaining upon the churchyard stile a few minutes longer,turned back again towards the building. His usual course was nowto light a cigar or pipe, and indulge in a quiet meditation. Butto-night his mind was too tense to bethink itself of such asolace. He merely walked round to the site of the fallen tower,and sat himself down upon some of the large stones which hadcomposed it until this day, when the chain of circumstanceoriginated by Stephen Smith, while in the employ of Mr. Hewby, theLondon man of art, had brought about its overthrow.
. 'Would you turnher round for a moment, so that the?
Pondering on the possible episodes of Elfride's past life, and onhow he had supposed her to have had no past justifying the name,he sat and regarded the white tomb of young Jethway, now close infront of him. The sea, though comparatively placid, could asusual be heard from this point along the whole distance betweenpromontories to the right and left, floundering and entanglingitself among the insulated stacks of rock which dotted the water'sedge--the miserable skeletons of tortured old cliffs that wouldnot even yet succumb to the wear and tear of the tides.
As a change from thoughts not of a very cheerful kind, Knightattempted exertion. He stood up, and prepared to ascend to thesummit of the ruinous heap of stones, from which a more extendedoutlook was obtainable than from the ground. He stretched out hisarm to seize the projecting arris of a larger block than ordinary,and so help himself up, when his hand lighted plump upon asubstance differing in the greatest possible degree from what hehad expected to seize--hard stone. It was stringy and entangled,and trailed upon the stone. The deep shadow from the aisle wallprevented his seeing anything here distinctly, and he beganguessing as a necessity. 'It is a tressy species of moss orlichen,' he said to himself.
But it lay loosely over the stone.
'It is a tuft of grass,' he said.
But it lacked the roughness and humidity of the finest grass.
'It is a mason's whitewash-brush.'
Such brushes, he remembered, were more bristly; and however muchused in repairing a structure, would not be required in pullingone down.
He said, 'It must be a thready silk fringe.'
He felt further in. It was somewhat warm. Knight instantly feltsomewhat cold.
To find the coldness of inanimate matter where you expect warmthis startling enough; but a colder temperature than that of thebody being rather the rule than the exception in commonsubstances, it hardly conveys such a shock to the system asfinding warmth where utter frigidity is anticipated.
'God only knows what it is,' he said.
He felt further, and in the course of a minute put his hand upon ahuman head. The head was warm, but motionless. The thready masswas the hair of the head--long and straggling, showing that thehead was a woman's.
Knight in his perplexity stood still for a moment, and collectedhis thoughts. The vicar's account of the fall of the tower wasthat the workmen had been undermining it all the day, and had leftin the evening intending to give the finishing stroke the nextmorning. Half an hour after they had gone the undermined anglecame down. The woman who was half buried, as it seemed, must havebeen beneath it at the moment of the fall.
Knight leapt up and began endeavouring to remove the rubbish withhis hands. The heap overlying the body was for the most part fineand dusty, but in immense quantity. It would be a saving of timeto run for assistance. He crossed to the churchyard wall, andhastened down the hill.
A little way down an intersecting road passed over a small ridge,which now showed up darkly against the moon, and this road hereformed a kind of notch in the sky-line. At the moment that Knightarrived at the crossing he beheld a man on this eminence, comingtowards him. Knight turned aside and met the stranger.
fallen tower, and so found her.It is painful.
'There has been an accident at the church,' said Knight, withoutpreface. 'The tower has fallen on somebody, who has been lyingthere ever since. Will you come and help?'
'That I will,' said the man.
'It is a woman,' said Knight, as they hurried back, 'and I thinkwe two are enough to extricate her. Do you know of a shovel?'
'The grave-digging shovels are about somewhere. They used to stayin the tower.'
'And there must be some belonging to the workmen.'
They searched about, and in an angle of the porch found threecarefully stowed away. Going round to the west end Knightsignified the spot of the tragedy.
'We ought to have brought a lantern,' he exclaimed. 'But we maybe able to do without.' He set to work removing the superincumbentmass.
the hair of the head--long and straggling, showing that.
The other man, who looked on somewhat helplessly at first, nowfollowed the example of Knight's activity, and removed the largerstones which were mingled with the rubbish. But with all theirefforts it was quite ten minutes before the body of theunfortunate creature could be extricated. They lifted her ascarefully as they could, breathlessly carried her to FelixJethway's tomb, which was only a few steps westward, and laid herthereon.
'Is she dead indeed?' said the stranger.
'She appears to be,' said Knight. 'Which is the nearest house?The vicarage, I suppose.'
'Yes; but since we shall have to call a surgeon from CastleBoterel, I think it would be better to carry her in thatdirection, instead of away from the town.'
'And is it not much further to the first house we come to goingthat way, than to the vicarage or to The Crags?'
'Not much,' the stranger replied.
'Suppose we take her there, then. And I think the best way to doit would be thus, if you don't mind joining hands with me.'
'Not in the least; I am glad to assist.'
to stayin the tower.' induced by.
Making a kind of cradle, by clasping their hands crosswise underthe inanimate woman, they lifted her, and walked on side by sidedown a path indicated by the stranger, who appeared to know thelocality well.
'I had been sitting in the church for nearly an hour,' Knightresumed, when they were out of the churchyard. 'Afterwards Iwalked round to the site of the fallen tower, and so found her.It is painful to think I unconsciously wasted so much time in thevery presence of a perishing, flying soul.'
'The tower fell at dusk, did it not? quite two hours ago, Ithink?'
'Yes. She must have been there alone. What could have been herobject in visiting the churchyard then?
'It is difficult to say.' The stranger looked inquiringly into thereclining face of the motionless form they bore. 'Would you turnher round for a moment, so that the light shines on her face?' hesaid.
They turned her face to the moon, and the man looked closer intoher features. 'Why, I know her!' he exclaimed.
'Who is she?'
'Mrs. Jethway. And the cottage we are taking her to is her own.She is a widow; and I was speaking to her only this afternoon. Iwas at Castle Boterel post-office, and she came there to post aletter. Poor soul! Let us hurry on.'
'Hold my wrist a little tighter. Was not that tomb we laid her onthe tomb of her only son?'
'Yes, it was. Yes, I see it now. She was there to visit thetomb. Since the death of that son she has been a desolate,desponding woman, always bewailing him. She was a farmer's wife,very well educated--a governess originally, I believe.'
Knight's heart was moved to sympathy. His own fortunes seemed insome strange way to be interwoven with those of this Jethwayfamily, through the influence of Elfride over himself and theunfortunate son of that house. He made no reply, and they stillwalked on.
'Yes, she does,' said Knight; and after another pause added, 'Ithink I have met you before, though where I cannot recollect. MayI ask who you are?'
'Oh yes. I am Lord Luxellian. Who are you?'
'I am a visitor at The Crags--Mr. Knight.'
'I have heard of you, Mr. Knight.'
'And I of you, Lord Luxellian. I am glad to meet you.'
'I may say the same. I am familiar with your name in print.'
'And I with yours. Is this the house?'
'Yes.'
The door was locked. Knight, reflecting a moment, searched thepocket of the lifeless woman, and found therein a large key which,on being applied to the door, opened it easily. The fire was out,but the moonlight entered the quarried window, and made patternsupon the floor. The rays enabled them to see that the room intowhich they had entered was pretty well furnished, it being thesame room that Elfride had visited alone two or three eveningsearlier. They deposited their still burden on an old-fashionedcouch which stood against the wall, and Knight searched about fora lamp or candle. He found a candle on a shelf, lighted it, andplaced it on the table.
Both Knight and Lord Luxellian examined the pale countenanceattentively, and both were nearly convinced that there was nohope. No marks of violence were visible in the casual examinationthey made.
'I think that as I know where Doctor Granson lives,' said LordLuxellian, 'I had better run for him whilst you stay here.'
Knight agreed to this. Lord Luxellian then went off, and hishurrying footsteps died away. Knight continued bending over thebody, and a few minutes longer of careful scrutiny perfectlysatisfied him that the woman was far beyond the reach of thelancet and the drug. Her extremities were already beginning toget stiff and cold. Knight covered her face, and sat down.
The minutes went by. The essayist remained musing on all theoccurrences of the night. His eyes were directed upon the table,and he had seen for some time that writing-materials were spreadupon it. He now noticed these more particularly: there were aninkstand, pen, blotting-book, and note-paper. Several sheets ofpaper were thrust aside from the rest, upon which letters had beenbegun and relinquished, as if their form had not been satisfactoryto the writer. A stick of black sealing-wax and seal were theretoo, as if the ordinary fastening had not been consideredsufficiently secure. The abandoned sheets of paper lying as theydid open upon the table, made it possible, as he sat, to read thefew words written on each. One ran thus:
'SIR,--As a woman who was once blest with a dear son of her own, Iimplore you to accept a warning----'
Another:
'SIR,--If you will deign to receive warning from a stranger beforeit is too late to alter your course, listen to----'
The third:
'SIR,--With this letter I enclose to you another which, unaided byany explanation from me, tells a startling tale. I wish, however,to add a few words to make your delusion yet more clear to you----'
It was plain that, after these renounced beginnings, a fourthletter had been written and despatched, which had been deemed aproper one. Upon the table were two drops of sealing-wax, thestick from which they were taken having been laid down overhangingthe edge of the table; the end of it drooped, showing that the waxwas placed there whilst warm. There was the chair in which thewriter had sat, the impression of the letter's address upon theblotting-paper, and the poor widow who had caused these resultslying dead hard by. Knight had seen enough to lead him to theconclusion that Mrs. Jethway, having matter of great importance tocommunicate to some friend or acquaintance, had written him a verycareful letter, and gone herself to post it; that she had notreturned to the house from that time of leaving it till LordLuxellian and himself had brought her back dead.
The unutterable melancholy of the whole scene, as he waited on,silent and alone, did not altogether clash with the mood ofKnight, even though he was the affianced of a fair and winninggirl, and though so lately he had been in her company. Whilstsitting on the remains of the demolished tower he had defined anew sensation; that the lengthened course of inaction he hadlately been indulging in on Elfride's account might probably notbe good for him as a man who had work to do. It could quickly beput an end to by hastening on his marriage with her.
Knight, in his own opinion, was one who had missed his mark byexcessive aiming. Having now, to a great extent, given up idealambitions, he wished earnestly to direct his powers into a morepractical channel, and thus correct the introspective tendencieswhich had never brought himself much happiness, or done hisfellow-creatures any great good. To make a start in this newdirection by marriage, which, since knowing Elfride, had been soentrancing an idea, was less exquisite to-night. That thecurtailment of his illusion regarding her had something to do withthe reaction, and with the return of his old sentiments on wastingtime, is more than probable. Though Knight's heart had so greatlymastered him, the mastery was not so complete as to be easilymaintained in the face of a moderate intellectual revival.
His reverie was broken by the sound of wheels, and a horse'stramp. The door opened to admit the surgeon, Lord Luxellian, anda Mr. Coole, coroner for the division (who had been attending atCastle Boterel that very day, and was having an after-dinner chatwith the doctor when Lord Luxellian arrived); next came two femalenurses and some idlers.
Mr. Granson, after a cursory examination, pronounced the womandead from suffocation, induced by intense pressure on therespiratory organs; and arrangements were made that the inquiryshould take place on the following morning, before the return ofthe coroner to St. Launce's.
Shortly afterwards the house of the widow was deserted by all itsliving occupants, and she abode in death, as she had in her lifeduring the past two years, entirely alone.