the choir invisible-第32章
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andscape had begun to beckon not like his poor little frost…killed field； not of the earth at all； but lifted unattainable into the air； faint； clear； elusivethe marriage of another woman。 And how different she！ He felt sure that no winter's rasure would ever reach that land； no instability； no feebleness of nature awaited him there； the loveliness of its summer； now brooding at flood； would brood unharmed upon it to the natural end。
He buried his face guiltily in his hands as he tried to shut out the remembrance of how persistently of late； whithersoever he had turned； this second image had reappeared before him； growing always clearer； drawing always nearer； summoning him more luringly。 Already he had begun to know the sensations of a traveller who is crossing sands with a parched tongue and a weary foot； crossing toward a country that he will never reach； but that he will stagger toward as long as he has strength to stand。 During the past several daysfollowing his last interview with Amyhe had realized for the first time how long and how plainly the figure of Mrs。 Falconer had been standing before him and upon how much loftier a level。 Many a time of old； while visiting the house； he had grown tired of Amy； but he had never felt wearied by her。 For Amy he was always making apologies to his own conscience； she needed none。 He had secretly hoped that in time Amy would become more what he wished his wife to be； it would have pained him to think of her as altered。 Often he had left Amy's company with a grateful sense of regaining the larger liberty of his own mind； by her he always felt guided to his better self； he carried away her ideas with the hope of making them his ideas； he was set on fire with a spiritual passion to do his utmost in the higher strife of the world。
For this he had long paid her the guiltless tribute of his reverence and affection。 And between his reverence and affection and all the forbidden that lay beyond rose a barrier which not even his imagination had ever consciously overleaped。 Now the forbidding barrier had disappeared； and in its place had appeared the forbidden bondhe knew not how or when。 How could he？ Love； the Scarlet Spider； will in a night hang between two that have been apart a web too fine for either to see； but the strength of both will never avail to break it。
Very curiously it had befallen him furthermore that just at the time when all these changes were taking place around him and within him； she had brought him the book that she had pressed with emphasis upon his attention。 In the backwoods settlements of Pennsylvania where his maternal Scotch…Irish ancestors had settled and his own life been spent； very few volumes had fallen into his hands。 After coming to Kentucky not many more until of late： so that of the world's history he was still a stinted and hungry student。 When；therefore； she had given him Malory's 〃LeMorte D'Arthur；〃 it was the first time that the ideals of chivalry had ever flashed their glorious light upon him； for the first time the models of Christian manhood； on which western Europe nourished itself for centuries； displayed themselves to his imagination with the charm of story； he heard of Camelot； of the king； of that company of men who strove with each other in arms； but strove also with each other in grace of life and for the immortal mysteries of the spirit。 She had said that he should have read this book long before but that henceforth he would always need it even more than in his past： that here were some things he had looked for in the world and had never found； characters such as he had always wished to grapple to himself as his abiding comrades： that if he would love the best that it loved； hate what it hated； scorn what it scorned； it would help him in the pursuit of his own ideals to the end。 Of this and more he felt at once the truth； since of all earthly books known to him this contained the most heavenly revelation of what a man may be in manliness； in gentleness； and in goodness。 And as he read the nobler portions of the book； the nobler parts of his nature gave out their immediate response。 Hungrily he hurried to and fro across the harvest of those fertile pages； gathering of the white wheat of the spirit many a lustrous sheaf： the love of courage； the love of courtesy； the love of honour； the love of high aims and great actions； the love of the poor and the helpless； the love of a spotless name and a spotless life； the love of kindred； the love of friendship； the love of humility of spirit； the love of forgiveness； the love of beauty； the love of love； the love of God。 Surely； he said to himself； within the band of these virtues lay not only a man's noblest life； but the noblest life of the world。
While fondling these； he failed not to notice how the great book； as though it were a living mouth； spat its deathless scorn upon the things that he alsoin the imperfect measure of his powershad always hated： all cowardice of mind or body； all lying； all oppression； all unfaithfulness； all secret revenge and hypocrisy and double…dealing： the smut of the heart and mind。 But ah！ the other things besides these。
Sown among the white wheat of the spirit were the red tares of the flesh； and as he strode back and forth through the harvest； he found himself plucking these also with feverish vehemence。 There were things here that he had never seen in print： words that he had never even named to his secret consciousness； thoughts and desires that he had put away from his soul with many a struggle； many a prayer； stories of a kind that he had always declined to hear when told in companies of men： all here； spelled out； barefaced； without apology； without shame： the deposits of those old； old moral voices and standards long since buried deep under the ever rising level of the world's whitening holiness。 With utter guilt and shame he did not leave off till he had plucked the last red tare； and having plucked them； he had hugged the whole inflaming bundle against his bloodhis blood now flushed with youth； flushed with health； flushed with summer。
And finally； in the midst of all these things； perhaps coloured by them； there had come to him the first great awakening of his life in a love that was forbidden。
He upbraided himself the more bitterly for the influence of the book because it was she who had placed both the good and the evil in his hand with perfect confidence that he would lay hold on the one and remain unsoiled by the other。 She had remained spirit…proof herself against the influences that tormented him； out of her own purity she had judged him。 And yet； on the other hand； with that terrible candour of mind which he used either for or against himself as rigidly as for or against another person； he pleaded in his own behalf that she had made a mistake in overestimating his strength； in underestimating his temptations。 How should she know that for years his warfare had gone on direfully？ How realize that almost daily he had stood as at the dividing of two roads： the hard； narrow path ascending to the bleak white peaks of the spirit； the broad； sweet； downward vistas of the flesh？ How foresee； therefore； that the book would only help to rend him in twain with a mightier passion for each？
He had been back at the school a week now。 He had never dared go to see her。 Confront that luminous face with his darkened one？ Deal such a soul the wound of such dishonour？ He knew very well that the slightest word or glance of self…betrayal would bring on the immediate severance of her relationship with him： her wifehood might be her martyrdom； but it was martyrdom inviolate。 And yet he felt that if he were once with her； he could not be responsible for the consequences： he could foresee no degree of self…control that would keep him from telling her that he loved her。 He had been afraid to go。 But ah； how her image drew him day and night； day and night！ Slipping between him and every other being； every other desire。 Her voice kept calling to him to come to hera voice new； irresistible； that seemed to issue from the deeps of Summer； from the deeps of Life； from the deeps of Love； with its almighty justification。
This was his first Saturday。 To…day he
