the captives-第2章

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ation；　and　another　at　〃The　Hearty　Cow〃　at　Clinton　St。　Mary；　just　before　his　start　on　his　cold　lonely　walk　to　St。　Dreot's。　He　hoped　that　he　would　prevent　her　criticism　by　his　easy　pleasant　talk；　so　on　he　chattered。

She　sat　down　near　him　and　continuing　to　sew　smiled　at　him；　wondered　what　there　was　for　dinner　and　the　kind　of　mood　that　her　father　would　be　in　when　he　found　his　dear　brother　here。

Maggie　Cardinal；　at　the　time；　was　nineteen　years　of　age。　She　was　neither　handsome　nor　distinguished；　plain　indeed；　although　her　mild；　good…natured　eyes　had　in　their　light　a　quality　of　vitality　and　interest　that　gave　her　personality；　her　figure　was　thick　and　square…　…she　would　be　probably　stout　one　day。　She　moved　like　a　man。　Behind　the　mildness　of　her　eyes　there　was　much　character　and　resolve　in　her　carriage；　in　the　strong　neck；　the　firm　breasts；　the　mouth　resolute　and　determined。　She　had　now　the　fine　expectation　of　her　youth；　her　health；　her　optimism；　her　ignorance　of　the　world。　When　these　things　left　her　she　would　perhaps　be　a　yet　plainer　woman。　In　her　dress　she　was　not　clever。　Her　clothes　were　ugly　with　the　coarse　drab　grey　of　their　material　and　the　unskilful　workmanship　that　had　created　them。　And　yet　there　would　be　some　souls　who　would　see　in　her　health；　her　youth；　the　kind　sympathy　of　her　eyes　and　mouth；　the　high　nobility　of　her　forehead　from　which　her　hair　was　brushed　back；　an　attraction　that　might　hold　them　more　deeply　than　an　obvious　beauty。

Uncle　Mathew　although　he　was　a　silly　man　was　one　of　these　perceptive　souls；　and　had　he　not　been　compelled　by　his　circumstances　to　think　continually　about　himself；　would　have　loved　his　niece　very　dearly。　As　it　was；　he　thought　her　a　fine　girl　when　he　thought　of　her　at　all；　and　wished　her　more　success　in　life　than　her　〃poor　old　uncle〃　had　had。　He　looked　at　her　now　across　the　fireplace　with　satisfaction。　She　was　something　sure　and　pleasant　in　a　world　that　swayed　and　was　uncertain。　He　was　drunk　enough　to　feel　happy　so　long　as　he　was　not　scolded。　He　dreaded　the　moment　when　his　brother　Charles　would　appear；　and　he　strove　to　arrange　in　his　mind　the　wise　and　unanswerable　word　with　which　he　would　defend　himself；　but　his　thoughts　slipped　just　as　the　firelight　slipped　and　the　floors　with　the　old　threadbare　carpet。

Then　suddenly　the　hall　door　opened　with　a　jangle；　there　were　steps　in　the　hall；　and　Old　Timmie　Carthewe　the　sexton　appeared　in　the　dining…room。　He　had　a　goat's　face　and　a　body　like　a　hairpin。

〃Rector's　not　been　to　service；〃　he　said。　〃There's　Miss　Dunnett　and　Mrs。　Giles　and　the　two　Miss　Backshaws。　I'm　feared　he's　forgotten。〃

Maggie　started　up。　Instantly　to　her　mind　came　the　memory　of　that　fancied　sound　from　her　father's　room。　She　listened　now；　her　head　raised；　and　the　two　men；　their　eyes　bleared　but　their　noses　sniffing　as　though　they　were　dogs；　listened　also。　There　were　certain　sounds；　clocks　ticking；　the　bough　scraping　on　the　wall；　a　cart's　echo　on　the　frozen　road；　the　maid　singing　far　in　the　depths　of　the　house。　Maggie　nodded　her　head。

〃I'll　go　and　see；〃　she　said。

She　went　into　the　hall　and　stood　again　listening。　Then　she　called；　〃Father！　Father！〃　but　there　was　no　answer。　She　had　never　in　all　her　life　been　frightened　by　anything　and　she　was　not　frightened　now；　nevertheless；　as　she　went　up　the　stairs；　she　looked　behind　her　to　see　whether　any　one　followed　her。

She　called　again　〃Father！〃　then　went　to　his　door；　pushed　it　open；　and　looked　in。　The　room　was　cold　with　a　faint　scent　of　tallow　candle　and　damp。

In　the　twilight　she　saw　her　father's　body　lying　like　a　shadow　stretched　right　across　the　floor；　with　the　grey　dirty　fingers　of　one　hand　clenched。

After　that　events　followed　swiftly。　Maggie　herself　had　no　time　nor　opportunity　for　any　personal　emotion　save　a　dumb　kind　of　wonder　that　she　did　not　feel　more。　But　she　saw　all　〃through　a　glass　darkly。〃　There　had　been　first　that　moment　when　the　sexton　and　Uncle　Mathew；　still　like　dogs　sniffing；　had　peered　with　their　eyes　through　her　father's　door。　Then　there　had　been　the　summoning　of　Dr。　Bubbage　from　the　village；　his　self…importance；　his　continual　〃I　warned　him。　I　warned　him。　He　can't　say　I　didn't　warn　him；〃　and　then　（very　dim　and　far　away）　〃Thank　you；　Miss　Cardinal。　I　think　I　will　have　a　glass　if　you　don't　mind。〃　There　had　been　cook　crying　in　the　kitchen　（her　red　roses　intended　for　Sunday　must　now　be　postponed）　and　the　maid　sniffing　in　the　hall。　There　had　been　Uncle　Mathew；　muddled　and　confused；　but　clinging　to　his　one　idea　that　〃the　best　thing　you　can　do；　my　dear；　is　to　send　for　your　Aunt　Anne。〃　There　had　been　the　telegram　dispatched　to　Aunt　Anne；　and　then　after　that　the　house　had　seemed　quite　filled　with　peopleladies　who　hadwished　to　know　whether　they　could　help　her　in　any　way　and　even　the　village　butcher　who　was　there　for　no　reason　but　stood　in　the　hall　rubbing　his　hands　on　his　thighs　and　sniffing。　All　these　persons　Maggie　surveyed　through　a　mist。　She　was　calm　and　collected　and　empty　of　all　personality；　Maggie　Cardinal；　the　real　Maggie　Cardinal；　was　away　on　a　visit　somewhere　and　would　not　be　back　for　a　time　or　two。

Then　suddenly　as　the　house　had　filled　so　suddenly　it　emptied。　Maggie　found　that　she　was　desperately　tired。　She　went　to　bed　and　slept　instantly。　On　waking　next　morning　she　was　aware　that　it　was　a　most　beautiful　winter's　day　and　that　there　was　something　strange　in　the　air。　There　came　to　her　then　very　slowly　a　sense　of　her　father。　She　saw　him　on　the　one　side；　persistently　as　she　had　found　him　in　his　room；　strange；　shapeless；　with　a　crumpled　face　and　a　dirty　beard　that　seemed　to　be　more　dead　than　the　rest　of　him。　On　the　other　side　she　saw　him　as　she　had　found　him　in　the　first　days　of　her　consciousness　of　the　world。

He　must　have　been　〃jolly〃　then；　large　and　strong；　laughing　often；　tossing　her；　she　remembered；　to　the　ceiling；　his　beard　jet…black　and　his　eyebrows　bushy　and　overhanging。　Once　that　vigour；　afterwards　this　horror。　She　shook　away　from　her　last　vision　of　him　but　it　returned　again　and　again；　hanging　about　her　over　her　shoulder　like　an　ill…omened　messenger。　And　all　the　life　between　seemed　to　be　suddenly　wiped　away　as　a　sponge　wipes　figures　off　a　slate。　After　the　death　of　her　mother　she　had　made　the　best　of　her　circumstances。　There　had　been　many　days　when　life　had　been　unpleasant；　and　in　the　last　year；　as　his　miserliness　had　grown　upon　him；　his　ill…temper　at　any　fancied　extravagance　had　been　almost　that　of　an　insane　man；　but　Maggie　knew　very　little　of　the　affairs　of　other　men　and　it　seemed　to　her　that　every　one　had　some　disadvantage　with　which　to　grapple。　She　did　not　pretend　to　care　for　her　father；　she　was　very　lonely　because　the　villagers　hated　him；　but　she　had　always　made　the　best　of　everything　because　she　had　never　had　an　intimate　friend　to　tell　her　that　that　was　a　foolish　thing　to　do。

It　was　indeed　marvellous　how　isolated　her　life　had　been；　she　knew　simply　nothing　about　the　world　at　all。

She　could　not　pretend　that　she　was　sorry　that　her　father　had　died；　and　yet　she　missed　him　because　she　knew　very　well　that　she　was　now　no　one's　business；　that　she　was　utterly　and　absolutely　alone　in　the　universe。　It　might　be　said　that　she　could　not　be　utterly　alone　when　she　had　her　Uncle　Mathew；　but；　although　she　was　ignorant　of　life；　she　knew　her　Uncle　Mathew　。　。　。　Nevertheless；　he　did　something　to　remove　the　sharp　alarm　of　her　sudden　isolation。　Upon　the　day　after　her　father's　death　he　was　at　his　very　best；　his　kindest；　and　most　gentle。　He　was　rather　pathetic；　having　drunk　nothing　out　of　respect　to　the　occasion；　he　felt；　somewhere　deep　down　in　him；　a　persistent　exaltation　that　his　brother　Charles　was　dead；　but　he　knew　that　it　was　not　decent　to　allow　this　feeling　to　conquer　him　and　he　was　truly　anxious　to　protect　and　comfort　his　niece　so　well　as　he　was　able。　Early　in　the　afternoon　he　suggested　that　they　should　go　for　a　walk。　Everything　necessary　had　been　done。　An　answer　to　their　telegram　had　been　received　from　his　sister　Anne　that　she　could　not　leave　London　until　that　night　but　would　arrive　at　Clinton　St。　Mary　station　at　half…past　nine　to…morrow　morning。　That　would　be　in　good　time　for　the　funeral；　a　ceremony　that　was　to　be　conducted　by　the　Rev。　Tom　Trefusis；　the　sporting　vicar　of　Cator　Hill；　the　neighbouring　parish。

T