the dark flower-第24部分

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On　deck；　the　Colonel；　laden　with　bags；　was　looking　back　for　her；
and　trying　to　keep　a　space　between　him　and　his　wife。　　He　signalled
with　his　chin。　　Threading　her　way　towards　him；　she　happened　to　look
up。　　By　the　rails　of　the　pier　above　she　saw　her　husband。　　He　was
leaning　there；　looking　intently　down；　his　tall　broad　figure　made
the　people　on　each　side　of　him　seem　insignificant。　　The　clean…
shaved；　square…cut　face；　with　those　almost　epileptic；　forceful
eyes；　had　a　stillness　and　intensity　beside　which　the　neighbouring
faces　seemed　to　disappear。　　She　saw　him　very　clearly；　even　noting
the　touch　of　silver　in　his　dark　hair；　on　each　side　under　his　straw
hat；　noting　that　he　seemed　too　massive　for　his　neat　blue　suit。　　His
face　relaxed；　he　made　a　little　movement　of　one　hand。　　Suddenly　it
shot　through　her：　Suppose　Mark　had　travelled　with　them；　as　he　had
wished　to　do？　　For　ever　and　ever　now；　that　dark　massive　creature；
smiling　down　at　her；　was　her　enemy；　from　whom　she　must　guard　and
keep　herself　if　she　could；　keep；　at　all　events；　each　one　of　her
real　thoughts　and　hopes！　　She　could　have　writhed；　and　cried　out；
instead；　she　tightened　her　grip　on　the　handle　of　her　bag；　and
smiled。　　Though　so　skilled　in　knowledge　of　his　moods；　she　felt；　in
his　greeting；　his　fierce　grip　of　her　shoulders；　the　smouldering　of
some　feeling　the　nature　of　which　she　could　not　quite　fathom。　　His
voice　had　a　grim　sincerity：　〃Glad　you're　backthought　you　were
never　coming！〃　　Resigned　to　his　charge；　a　feeling　of　sheer　physical
faintness　so　beset　her　that　she　could　hardly　reach　the　compartment
he　had　reserved。　　It　seemed　to　her　that；　for　all　her　foreboding；
she　had　not　till　this　moment　had　the　smallest　inkling　of　what　was
now　before　her；　and　at　his　muttered：　〃Must　we　have　the　old　fossils
in？〃　she　looked　back　to　assure　herself　that　her　Uncle　and　Aunt　were
following。　　To　avoid　having　to　talk；　she　feigned　to　have　travelled
badly；　leaning　back　with　closed　eyes；　in　her　corner。　　If　only　she
could　open　them　and　see；　not　this　square…jawed　face　with　its　intent
gaze　of　possession；　but　that　other　with　its　eager　eyes　humbly
adoring　her。　　The　interminable　journey　ended　all　too　soon。　　She
clung　quite　desperately　to　the　Colonel's　hand　on　the　platform　at
Charing　Cross。　　When　his　kind　face　vanished　she　would　be　lost
indeed！　　Then；　in　the　closed　cab；　she　heard　her　husband's：　〃Aren't
you　going　to　kiss　me？〃　and　submitted　to　his　embrace。

She　tried　so　hard　to　think：　What　does　it　matter？　　It's　not　I；　not
my　soul；　my　spiritonly　my　miserable　lips！

She　heard　him　say：　〃You　don't　seem　too　glad　to　see　me！〃　　And　then：
〃I　hear　you　had　young　Lennan　out　there。　　What　was　HE　doing？〃

She　felt　the　turmoil　of　sudden　fear；　wondered　whether　she　was
showing　it；　lost　it　in　unnatural　alertnessall　in　the　second
before　she　answered：　〃Oh！　just　a　holiday。〃

Some　seconds　passed；　and　then　he　said：

〃You　didn't　mention　him　in　your　letters。〃

She　answered　coolly：　〃Didn't　I？　　We　saw　a　good　deal　of　him。〃

She　knew　that　he　was　looking　at　heran　inquisitive；　half…menacing
regard。　　Whyoh；　why！could　she　not　then　and　there　cry　out：　〃And
I　love　himdo　you　hear？I　love　him！〃　　So　awful　did　it　seem　to　be
denying　her　love　with　these　half　lies！　　But　it　was　all　so　much　more
grim　and　hopeless　than　even　she　had　thought。　　How　inconceivable；
now；　that　she　had　ever　given　herself　up　to　this　man　for　life！　　If
only　she　could　get　away　from　him　to　her　room；　and　scheme　and　think！
For　his　eyes　never　left　her；　travelling　over　her　with　their
pathetic　greed；　their　menacing　inquiry；　till　he　said：　〃Well；　it's
not　done　you　any　harm。　　You　look　very　fit。〃　　But　his　touch　was　too
much　even　for　her　self…command；　and　she　recoiled　as　if　he　had
struck　her。

〃What's　the　matter？　　Did　I　hurt　you？〃

It　seemed　to　her　that　he　was　jeeringthen　realized　as　vividly　that
he　was　not。　　And　the　full　danger　to　her；　perhaps　to　Mark　himself；
of　shrinking　from　this　man；　striking　her　with　all　its　pitiable
force；　she　made　a　painful　effort；　slipped　her　hand　under　his　arm；
and　said：　〃I'm　very　tired。　　You　startled　me。〃

But　he　put　her　hand　away；　and　turning　his　face；　stared　out　of　the
window。　　And　so　they　reached　their　home。

When　he　had　left　her　alone；　she　remained　where　she　was　standing；　by
her　wardrobe；　without　sound　or　movement；　thinking：　What　am　I　going
to　do？　　How　am　I　going　to　live？


IX


When　Mark　Lennan；　travelling　through　from　Beaulieu；　reached　his
rooms　in　Chelsea；　he　went　at　once　to　the　little　pile　of　his
letters；　twice　hunted　through　them；　then　stood　very　still；　with　a
stunned；　sick　feeling。　　Why　had　she　not　sent　him　that　promised
note？　　And　now　he　realizedthough　not　yet　to　the　fullwhat　it
meant　to　be　in　love　with　a　married　woman。　　He　must　wait　in　this
suspense　for　eighteen　hours　at　least；　till　he　could　call；　and　find
out　what　had　happened　to　prevent　her；　till　he　could　hear　from　her
lips　that　she　still　loved　him。　　The　chilliest　of　legal　lovers　had
access　to　his　love；　but　he　must　possess　a　soul　that　was　on　fire；　in
this　deadly　patience；　for　fear　of　doing　something　that　might
jeopardize　her。　　Telegraph？　　He　dared　not。　　Write？　　She　would　get
it　by　the　first　post；　but　what　could　he　say　that　was　not　dangerous；
if　Cramier　chanced　to　see？　　Call？　　Still　more　impossible　till　three
o'clock；　at　very　earliest；　to…morrow。　　His　gaze　wandered　round　the
studio。　　Were　these　household　gods；　and　all　these　works　of　his；
indeed　the　same　he　had　left　twenty　days　ago？　　They　seemed　to　exist
now　only　in　so　far　as　she　might　come　to　see　themcome　and　sit　in
such　a　chair；　and　drink　out　of　such　a　cup；　and　let　him　put　this
cushion　for　her　back；　and　that　footstool　for　her　feet。　　And　so
vividly　could　he　see　her　lying　back　in　that　chair　looking　across　at
him；　that　he　could　hardly　believe　she　had　never　yet　sat　there。　　It
was　odd　howwithout　any　resolution　taken；　without　admission　that
their　love　could　not　remain　platonic；　without　any　change　in　their
relations；　save　one　humble　kiss　and　a　few　whispered　words
everything　was　changed。　　A　month　or　so　ago；　if　he　had　wanted；　he
would　have　gone　at　once　calmly　to　her　house。　　It　would　have　seemed
harmless；　and　quite　natural。　　Now　it　was　impossible　to　do　openly
the　least　thing　that　strict　convention　did　not　find　desirable。
Sooner　or　later　they　would　find　him　stepping　over　convention；　and
take　him　for　what　he　was　nota　real　lover！　　A　real　lover！　　He
knelt　down　before　the　empty　chair　and　stretched　out　his　arms。　　No
substanceno　warmthno　fragrancenothing！　　Longing　that　passed
through　air；　as　the　wind　through　grass。

He　went　to　the　little　round　window；　which　overlooked　the　river。
The　last　evening　of　May；　gloaming　above　the　water；　dusk　resting　in
the　trees；　and　the　air　warm！　　Better　to　be　out；　and　moving　in　the
night；　out　in　the　ebb　and　flow　of　things；　among　others　whose　hearts
were　beating；　than　stay　in　this　place　that　without　her　was　so　cold
and　meaningless。

Lampsthe　passion…fruit　of　townswere　turning　from　pallor　to　full
orange；　and　the　stars　were　coming　out。　　Half…past　nine！　　At　ten
o'clock；　and　not　before；　he　would　walk　past　her　house。　　To　have
this　something　to　look　forward　to；　however　furtive　and　barren；
helped。　　But　on　a　Saturday　night　there　would　be　no　sitting　at　the
House。　　Cramier　would　be　at　home；　or　they　would　both　be　out；　or
perhaps　have　gone　down　to　their　river　cottage。　　Cramier！　　What
cruel　demon　had　presided　over　that　marring　of　her　life！　　Why　had　he
never　met　her　till　after　she　had　bound　herself　to　this　man！　　From　a
negative　contempt　for　one　who　was　either　not　sensitive　enough　to
recognize　that　his　marriage　was　a　failure；　or　not　chivalrous　enough
to　make　that　failure　bear　as　little　hardly　as　possible　on　his　wife；
he　had　come　already　to　jealous　hatred　as　of　a　monster。　　To　be　face
to　face　with　Cramier　in　a　mortal　conflict　could　alone　have
satisfied　his　feeling。　。　。　。　　Yet　he　was　a　young　man　by　nature
gentle！

His　heart　beat　desperately　as　he　approached　that　streetone　of
those　little　old　streets；　so　beautiful；　that　belonged　to　a　vanished
London。　　It　was　very　narrow；　there　was　no　shelter；　and　he　thought
confusedly　of　what　he　could　say；　if　met　in　this　remote　backwater
that　led　nowhere。　　He　would　tell　some　lie；　no　doubt。　　Lies　would
now　be　his　daily　business。　　Lies　and　hatred；　those　violent　things
of　life；　would　come　to　seem　quite　natural；　in　the　violence　of　his
love。

He　stood　a　moment；　hesitating；　by　the　rails　of　the　old　church。
Black；　white…veined；　with　shadowy　summits；　in　that　half　darkness；
it　was　like　some　gigantic　vision。　　Mystery　itself　seemed　modelled
there。　　He　turned　and　walked　quickly　down　the　street　close　to　the
houses　on　the　further　side。　　The　windows　of　her　house　were　lighted！
So；　she　was　not　away！　　Dim　light　in　the　dining…room；　lights　in　the
room　aboveher　bedroom；　doubtless。　　Was　there　no　way　to　bring　her
to　the　window；　no　way　his　spirit　could　climb　up　there　and　beckon
hers　out　to　him？　　Perhaps　she　was　not　there；　perhaps　it　was　but　a
servant　taking　up　hot　water。　　He　was　at　the　end　of　the　street　by
now；　but　to　leave　without　once　more　passing　was　impossible。　　And
this　time　he　went　slowly；　his　head　down；　feigning　abstraction；
grudging　every　inch　of　pavement；　and　all　the　time　furtively
searching　th