jeremy-第38章

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It　strangely　annoyed　him　that　his　father　should　greet　Jim　just　as
though　he　were　some　quite　ordinary　man　in　Polchester。　He　himself
waited　in　a　strange　agitation　until　Jim　should　notice　him。　The　man
turned　at　last；　bending　down　to　pick　up　a　box；　saw　him；　touched　his
cap；　smiling　a　long；　crooked　smile；　and　Jeremy　blushed　with
happiness。　It　was　the　first　recognition　that　he　had　had　from　the
farm；　and　it　pleased　him。

They　all　moved　up　to　the　higher　road。　Uncle　Samuel；　coming　on　at　the
last；　in　a　dreamy；　moody　way；　stopping　on　the　bridge　to　look　down　at
the　railway…line；　and　then　suddenly　saying　aloud：

〃Their　minds　are　full　of　the　number　of　boxes；　and　whether　they'll
get　tea；　and　who's　to　pay　what；　and　'How　badly　I　want　a　wash！'　and
already　to…morrow　they'll　be　wondering　whether　they　oughn't　to　be
getting　home　to　Polchester。　All　sham！　All　sham！〃

He　wasn't　speaking　to　Jeremy；　but　to　himself。　However；　Jeremy　said：
〃Did　you　see　Jim；　Uncle　？〃

〃No；　I　did　not。〃

〃He's　fatter　and　redder　than　last　year。〃

〃I　shouldn't　wonder。〃

〃Are　you　going　to　paint；　Uncle？〃

〃I　am。〃

〃What？〃

〃Oh；　just　lines　and　circles。〃

Jeremy　paused；　standing　for　a　moment；　and　looked　puzzled。　Then　he
said：

〃Do　you　like　babies；　Uncle　Samuel？〃

〃No；　I　do　not。〃

〃Not　even　Barbara　？〃

〃Nocertainly　not。〃

〃I　don't；　too。　。　。　Why　don't　you　paint　cows　and　houses　like　other
people；　Uncle　Samuel？　I　heard　Father　say　once　that　he　never　knew
what　your　pictures　meant。〃

〃That's　why　I　paint　them。〃

〃Why？〃

〃So　that　your　father　shan't　know　what　they　mean。〃

Although　he　did　not　understand　this　any　more　than　he　understood　his
uncle；　Jeremy　was　pleased　with　this　conversation。　It　had　been；
somehow；　in　tone　with　the　place　and　the　hour；　it　had　conveyed　to　him
in　some　strange　fashion　that　his　uncle　cared　for　all　of　this　rather
as　he　himself　cared。　Oh！　he　liked　Uncle　Samuel！

He　had　hoped　that　he　might　have　sat　on　the　box　next　to　Jim；　but　that
place　was　now　piled　up　with　luggage；　so　he　was　squeezed　in　between
his　mother　and　Mrs。　Patcham；　with　Hamlet；　very　uncomfortable；
between　his　knees。　They　drove　off　down　the　high　road；　the　hot　smell
of　the　grass　came　to　his　nostrils；　the　sun　blazed　down　upon　them；
turning　the　path　before　them　into　gleaming　steel；　and　the　high
Glebeshire　hedges；　covered　with　thin　powder；　rose　on　both　sides
above　them；　breaking　once　and　again　to　show　the　folding　valleys；　and
the　faint　blue　hills；　and　the　heavy；　dark　trees　with　their　thick；
black　shadows　staining　the　grass。

The　cows　were　clustered　sleeping　wherever　they　could　find　shadow；
faintly　sheep…bells　tinkled　in　the　distance；　and　now　and　then　a
stream；　like　broken　glass；　floated；　cried；　and　was　gone。　They　drove
into　a　dark　wood；　and　the　sun　scattered　through　the　trees　in　pieces
of　gold　and　shadowy　streams　of　arrowed　light。　The　birds　were
singing；　and　whenever　the　hoofs　of　the　horses　and　the　wheels　turned
onto　soft　moss　or　lines　of　grass；　in　the　sudden　silence　the　air　was
filled　with　birds'　voices。　That　proved　that　it　must　now　be　turning
to　the　evening　of　the　day；　the　sun　was　not　very　high　above　the　wood；
and　the　sea　of　blue　was　invaded　by　a　high　galleon　of　cloud　that
hovered　with　spreading　sail；　catching　gold　into　its　heart　as　it
moved。　They　left　the　wood；　crossed　the　River　Garth；　and　came　out　on
to　moorland。　Here；　for　the　first　time；　Jeremy　smelt　the　sea；　the
lanes　had　been　hot；　but　here　the　wind　blew　across　the　moor；　with　the
smell　of　sea…pinks　and　sea…　gulls　in　it。　The　grass　was　short　and
rough；　the　soil　was　sand。　On　the　horizon　was　the　grey；　melancholy
tower　of　a　deserted　mine。　Some　bird　flew　with　swiftly　driving　wings；
crying　as　it　went。　The　smell　of　the　moor　was　as　fresh　as　though　the
foot　of　man　had　never　crossed　itdeserted；　but　not　alone；　bare；　but
not　empty；　uninhabited；　but　peopled；　silent；　but　full　of　voices。

Jeremy's　excitement　grew。　He　knew　now　how　every　line　of　the　road
would　be。　They　left　the　moor　and　were　on　the　road　leading　to
Rafield。　These　were　the　days　before　they　built　the　road　from　Liskane
wide　enough　for　motor…　cars　and　other　horrible　inventions。　Thirty
years　ago　the　way　was　so　narrow　that　the　briars　and　ferns　brushed
your　face　as　you　passed；　and　you　could　reach　out　your　hand　and　pluck
snap…dragons　and　dandelions　and　fox…gloves。　Many　roads　twisted　in
and　out　upon　one　another；　the　corners　were　so　sharp　that　sometimes
the　wagonette　seemed　to　hang　upon　one　wheel　as　it　turned。　Still　no
sight　of　the　sea；　but　the　smell　of　it　now　was　everywhere；　and
sometimes　at　a　sudden　bend　there　would　come　a　faint　beat；　beat　upon
the　ear　with　something　rhyming　and　measured　in　it；　like　the　murmur
of　a　sleeping　giant。

They　came　to　the　bend　where　the　hill　suddenly　dips　at　a　fearful
angle　down　into　Rafield。　Here　they　turned　to　the　right；　deep　between
edges　again；　then　through　a　little　copse；　and　then；　as　though　with　a
whisk　of　the　finger；　right　on　to　Cow　Farm　itself。

It　was　an　old　square　house；　deep　red　brick；　with　crooked　chimneys；
and　s　stone　court　in　front　of　it。　To　either　side　of　the　court　there
were　barns。　Behind　the　house　thick　trees；　clouded　with　green；
showed。　In　the　middle　of　the　court　was　a　pump；　and　all　about　the
flagged　stones　pigeons　were　delicately　walking。　As　they　drove　up；
the　pigeons　rose　in　a　wheeling　flight　against　the　sky　now　staining
faintly　with　amber；　dogs　rushed　barking　from　the　barns；　a　haycart
turned　the　comer；　its　wheels　creaking；　and　four　little　children
perched　high　on　the　top　of　the　hay。　Then　the　hall…door　opened；　and
behold　Mrs。　Monk；　Mr。　Monk；　and；　clustering　shyly　behind；　the　little
Monks。

In　the　scene　that　followed　Jeremy　was　forgotten。　He　did　not　know
what　it　was　that　made　him　hang　behind　the　others；　but　he　stood
beside　the　wagonette；　bent　down　and　released　Hamlet；　and　then
waited；　hiding　under　the　shadow　of　the　cart。　His　happiness　was
almost　intolerable；　he　could　not　speak；　he　could　not　move；　and　in
the　heart　of　his　happiness　there　was　a　strange　unhappiness　that　he
had　never　known　before。　The　loneliness　that　he　had　felt　at　Liskane
Station　was　intensified；　so　that　he　felt　like　a　stranger　who　was
seeing　his　father；　or　his　mother；　or　aunt；　or　sisters　for　the　first
time。　Everything　about　him　emphasised　the　loneliness：　the　slow
evening　light　that　was　stealing　into　the　sky；　the　sound　of　some
machine　in　the　farm…house　turning　with　a　melancholy　rhythmic　whine；
a　voice　calling　in　the　fields；　the　rumble　of　the　sea；　the　twittering
of　birds　in　the　garden　trees；　the　bark　of　a　dog　far；　far　away；　and；
through　them　all；　the　sense　that　the　world　was　sinking　down　into
silence；　and　that　all　the　sounds　were　slipping　away；　like　visitors
hurrying　from　the　park　before　the　gates　are　shut；　he　stood　there；
listening；　caught　into　a　life　that　was　utterly　his　own　and　had　no
share　with　any　other。　He　looked　around　and　saw　that　they　were　all
going　into　the　house；　that　Jim　and　Mr。　Monk　were　busy　with　the
boxes；　and　that　no　one　was　aware　of　him。　He　knew　what　he　wanted。

He　slipped　across　the　court；　and　dropped　into　the　black　cavernous
hole　of　the　farther　barn。　At　first　the　darkness　stopped　him；　but　he
knew　his　way；　found　the　steps　that　led　up　to　the　loft；　and　was　soon
perched　high　behind　a　little　square　window　that　was　now　blue　and
gold　against　the　velvety　blackness　behind　him。　This　was　his
favourite　spot　in　all　the　farm。　Here；　all　the　year；　they　stored　the
apples；　and　the　smell　of　the　fruit　was　thick　in　the　air；　sweet　and
strong；　clinging　about　every　fibre　of　the　place；　so　that　you　could
not　disturb　a　strand　nor　a　stone　without　sending　some　new　drift　of
the　scent　up　against　your　nostrils。　All　the　year　after　his　first
visit；　Jeremy　had　been　longing　to　smell　that　smell　again；　and　now　he
knelt　up　against　the　window；　drinking　it　in。　With　his　eyes　he
searched　the　horizon。　From　here　you　could　see　the　garden　with　the
sun…　dial；　the　fields　beyond；　the　sudden　dip　with　the　trees　at　the
edge　of　it　bent　crossways　by　the　wind；　and　there；　in　such　a　cup　as
one's　hands　might　form；　just　beyond；　was　the　sea。　。　。

He　stared　as　though　his　eyes　would　start　from　his　head。　Behind　him
was　the　cloudy　smoke　of　the　apple…scent；　in　front　of　him　the　sun　was
sinking　towards　the