five tales-第40章

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〃I　mean；　she　feels　everything。〃

〃Ah！　　She'm　very　lovin'…'earted。〃

Ashurst；　who　felt　colour　coming　into　his　cheeks；　held　out　his　tobacco　pouch。

〃Have　a　fill；　Jim？〃

〃Thank　'ee；　sir。　　She'm　one　in　an　'underd；　I　think。〃

〃I　expect　so；〃　said　Ashurst　shortly；　and　folding　up　his　pouch；　walked　on。

〃Lovin'…hearted！　　〃Yes！　　And　what　was　he　doing？　　What　were　his　intentions…as　they　say　towards　this　loving…hearted　girl？　　The　thought　dogged　him；　wandering　through　fields　bright　with　buttercups；　where　the　little　red　calves　were　feeding；　and　the　swallows　flying　high。　Yes；　the　oaks　were　before　the　ashes；　brown…gold　already；　every　tree　in　different　stage　and　hue。　　The　cuckoos　and　a　thousand　birds　were　singing；　the　little　streams　were　very　bright。　　The　ancients　believed　in　a　golden　age；　in　the　garden　of　the　Hesperides！。。。　　A　queen　wasp　settled　on　his　sleeve。　　Each　queen　wasp　killed　meant　two　thousand　fewer　wasps　to　thieve　the　apples　which　would　grow　from　that　blossom　in　the　orchard；　but　who；　with　love　in　his　heart；　could　kill　anything　on　a　day　like　this？　　He　entered　a　field　where　a　young　red　bull　was　feeding。　　It　seemed　to　Ashurst　that　he　looked　like　Joe。　　But　the　young　bull　took　no　notice　of　this　visitor；　a　little　drunk　himself；　perhaps；　on　the　singing　and　the　glamour　of　the　golden　pasture；　under　his　short　legs。　　Ashurst　crossed　out　unchallenged　to　the　hillside　above　the　stream。　　From　that　slope　a　for　mounted　to　its　crown　of　rocks。　　The　ground　there　was　covered　with　a　mist　of　bluebells；　and　nearly　a　score　of　crab…apple　trees　were　in　full　bloom。　　He　threw　himself　down　on　the　grass。　　The　change　from　the　buttercup　glory　and　oak…goldened　glamour　of　the　fields　to　this　ethereal　beauty　under　the　grey　for　filled　him　with　a　sort　of　wonder；　nothing　the　same；　save　the　sound　of　running　water　and　the　songs　of　the　cuckoos。　　He　lay　there　a　long　time；　watching　the　sunlight　wheel　till　the　crab…trees　threw　shadows　over　the　bluebells；　his　only　companions　a　few　wild　bees。　　He　was　not　quite　sane；　thinking　of　that　morning's　kiss；　and　of　to…night　under　the　apple　tree。　　In　such　a　spot　as　this；　fauns　and　dryads　surely　lived；　nymphs；　white　as　the　crab…apple　blossom；　retired　within　those　trees；　fauns；　brown　as　the　dead　bracken；　with　pointed　ears；　lay　in　wait　for　them。　　The　cuckoos　were　still　calling　when　he　woke；　there　was　the　sound　of　running　water；　but　the　sun　had　couched　behind　the　tor；　the　hillside　was　cool；　and　some　rabbits　had　come　out。　'Tonight！'　he　thought。　　Just　as　from　the　earth　everything　was　pushing　up；　unfolding　under　the　soft　insistent　fingers　of　an　unseen　hand；　so　were　his　heart　and　senses　being　pushed；　unfolded。　　He　got　up　and　broke　off　a　spray　from　a　crab…apple　tree。　　The　buds　were　like　Megan　shell…like；　rose…pink；　wild；　and　fresh；　and　so；　too；　the　opening　flowers；　white；　and　wild；　and　touching。　　He　put　the　spray　into　his　coat。　　And　all　the　rush　of　the　spring　within　him　escaped　in　a　triumphant　sigh。　　But　the　rabbits　scurried　away。




6

It　was　nearly　eleven　that　night　when　Ashurst　put　down　the　pocket　〃Odyssey〃　which　for　half　an　hour　he　had　held　in　his　hands　without　reading；　and　slipped　through　the　yard　down　to　the　orchard。　　The　moon　had　just　risen；　very　golden；　over　the　hill；　and　like　a　bright；　powerful；　watching　spirit　peered　through　the　bars　of　an　ash　tree's　half…naked　boughs。　　In　among　the　apple　trees　it　was　still　dark；　and　he　stood　making　sure　of　his　direction；　feeling　the　rough　grass　with　his　feet。　　A　black　mass　close　behind　him　stirred　with　a　heavy　grunting　sound；　and　three　large　pigs　settled　down　again　close　to　each　other；　under　the　wall。　　He　listened。　　There　was　no　wind；　but　the　stream's　burbling　whispering　chuckle　had　gained　twice　its　daytime　strength。　　One　bird；　he　could　not　tell　what；　cried　〃Pippip；〃　〃Pip…　pip；〃　with　perfect　monotony；　he　could　hear　a　night…Jar　spinning　very　far　off；　an　owl　hooting。　　Ashurst　moved　a　step　or　two；　and　again　halted；　aware　of　a　dim　living　whiteness　all　round　his　head。　　On　the　dark　unstirring　trees　innumerable　flowers　and　buds　all　soft　and　blurred　were　being　bewitched　to　life　by　the　creeping　moonlight。　　He　had　the　oddest　feeling　of　actual　companionship；　as　if　a　million　white　moths　or　spirits　had　floated　in　and　settled　between　dark　sky　and　darker　ground；　and　were　opening　and　shutting　their　wings　on　a　level　with　his　eyes。　　In　the　bewildering；　still；　scentless　beauty　of　that　moment　he　almost　lost　memory　of　why　he　had　come　to　the　orchard。　　The　flying　glamour　which　had　clothed　the　earth　all　day　had　not　gone　now　that　night　had　fallen；　but　only　changed　into　this　new　form。　　He　moved　on　through　the　thicket　of　stems　and　boughs　covered　with　that　live　powdering　whiteness；　till　he　reached　the　big　apple　tree。　　No　mistaking　that；　even　in　the　dark；　nearly　twice　the　height　and　size　of　any　other；　and　leaning　out　towards　the　open　meadows　and　the　stream。　Under　the　thick　branches　he　stood　still　again；　to　listen。　　The　same　sounds　exactly；　and　a　faint　grunting　from　the　sleepy　pigs。　　He　put　his　hands　on　the　dry；　almost　warm　tree　trunk；　whose　rough　mossy　surface　gave　forth　a　peaty　scent　at　his　touch。　　Would　she　comewould　she？　　And　among　these　quivering；　haunted；　moon…witched　trees　he　was　seized　with　doubts　of　everything！　　All　was　unearthly　here；　fit　for　no　earthly　lovers；　fit　only　for　god　and　goddess；　faun　and　nymph　not　for　him　and　this　little　country　girl。　　Would　it　not　be　almost　a　relief　if　she　did　not　come？　　But　all　the　time　he　was　listening。　　And　still　that　unknown　bird　went　〃Pip…pip；〃　〃Pip…pip；〃　and　there　rose　the　busy　chatter　of　the　little　trout　stream；　whereon　the　moon　was　flinging　glances　through　the　bars　of　her　tree…prison。　　The　blossom　on　a　level　with　his　eyes　seemed　to　grow　more　living　every　moment；　seemed　with　its　mysterious　white　beauty　more　and　more　a　part　of　his　suspense。　　He　plucked　a　fragment　and　held　it　closethree　blossoms。　　Sacrilege　to　pluck　fruit…tree　blossomsoft；　sacred；　young　blossomand　throw　it　away！　　Then　suddenly　he　heard　the　gate　close；　the　pigs　stirring　again　and　grunting；　and　leaning　against　the　trunk；　he　pressed　his　hands　to　its　mossy　sides　behind　him；　and　held　his　breath。　　She　might　have　been　a　spirit　threading　the　trees；　for　all　the　noise　she　made！　　Then　he　saw　her　quite　closeher　dark　form　part　of　a　little　tree；　her　white　face　part　of　its　blossom；　so　still；　and　peering　towards　him。　He　whispered：　〃Megan！〃　and　held　out　his　hands。　She　ran　forward；　straight　to　his　breast。　　When　he　felt　her　heart　beating　against　him；　Ashurst　knew　to　the　full　the　sensations　of　chivalry　and　passion。　Because　she　was　not　of　his　world；　because　she　was　so　simple　and　young　and　headlong；　adoring　and　defenceless；　how　could　he　be　other　than　her　protector；　in　the　dark！　　Because　she　was　all　simple　Nature　and　beauty；　as　much　a　part　of　this　spring　night　as　was　the　living　blossom；　how　should　he　not　take　all　that　she　would　give　him　how　not　fulfil　the　spring　in　her　heart　and　his！　　And　torn　between　these　two　emotions　he　clasped　her　close；　and　kissed　her　hair。　　How　long　they　stood　there　without　speaking　he　knew　not。　　The　stream　went　on　chattering；　the　owls　hooting；　the　moon　kept　stealing　up　and　growing　whiter；　the　blossom　all　round　them　and　above　brightened　in　suspense　of　living　beauty。　　Their　lips　had　sought　each　other's；　and　they　did　not　speak。　　The　moment　speech　began　all　would　be　unreal！　　Spring　has　no　speech；　nothing　but　rustling　and　whispering。　　Spring　has　so　much　more　than　speech　in　its　unfolding　flowers　and　leaves；　and　the　coursing　of　its　streams；　and　in　its　sweet　restless　seeking！　　And　sometimes　spring　will　come　alive；　and；　like　a　mysterious　Presence　stand；　encircling　lovers　with　its　arms；　laying　on　them　the　fingers　of　enchantment；　so　that；　standing　lips　to　lips；　they　forget　everything　but　just　a　kiss。　　While　her　heart　beat　against　him；　and　her　lips　quivered　on　his；　Ashurst　felt　nothing　but　simple　raptureDestiny　meant　her　for　his　arms；　Love　could　not　be　flouted！　　But　when　their　lips　parted　for　breath；　division　began　again　at　once。　　Only；　passion　now　was　so　much　the　stronger；　and　he　sighed：

〃Oh！　　Megan！　　Why　did　you　come？〃　　She　looked　up；　hurt；　amazed。

〃Sir；　you　asked　me　to。〃

〃Don't　call　me　'sir；'　my　pretty　sweet。〃　　〃What　should　I　be　callin〃　you？〃

〃Frank。〃

〃I　could　not。　　Oh；　no！〃

〃But　you　love　medon't　you？