the quest of the golden girl-第34章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！




CHAPTER　I


SIX　YEARS　AFTER

This　book　is　like　a　woman's　letter。　　The　most　important　part　of　it　is　the　postscript

Six　years　lie　between　the　end　of　the　last　chapter　and　the　beginning　of　this。　Meanwhile；　I　had　moved　to　sociable　chambers　within　sound　of　the　city　clocks；　and　had　lived　the　life　of　a　lonely　man　about　town；　sinking　more　and　more　into　the　comfortable　sloth　of　bachelorhood。　　I　had　long　come　to　look　back　upon　my　pilgrimage　as　a　sort　of　Indian…summer　youth；　being；　as　the　reader　can　reckon　for　himself；　just　on　thirty…seven。　　As　one　will；　with　one's　most　serious　experiences；　hastening　to　laugh　lest　one　should　weep；　as　the　old　philosopher　said；　I　had　made　some　fun　out　of　my　quest；　in　the　form　of　a　paper　for　a　bookish　society　to　which　I　belonged；　on　〃Woman　as　a　Learned　Pursuit。〃　　It　is　printed　among　the　transactions　of　the　society；　and　is　accessible　to　the　curious　only　by　loan　from　the　members；　and　I　regret　that　I　am　unable　to　print　any　extracts　here。　　Perhaps　when　I　am　dead　the　society　will　see　the　criminal　selfishness　of　reserving　for　itself　what　was　meant　for　mankind。

Meanwhile；　however；　it　is　fast　locked　and　buried　deep　in　the　archives　of　the　club。　I　have　two　marriages　to　record　in　the　interval：　one　that　of　a　young　lady　whom　I　must　still　think　of　as　‘Nicolete'　to　Sir　Marmaduke　Pettigrew；　Bart。；　of　Dultowers　Hall；　and　the　other　the　well…known　marriage　of　Sylvia　Joy　。　。　。

Sylvia　Joy　married　after　all　her　fine　protestations！　　Yes！　but　I'm　sure　you　will　forgive　her；　for　she　was　married　to　a　lord。　When　one　is　twenty　and　romantic　one　would　scorn　a　woman　who　would　jilt　us　for　wealth　and　position；　at　thirty；　one　would　scorn　any　woman　who　didn't。　　Ah　me！　how　one　changes！　　No　one；　I　can　honestly　say；　was　happier　over　these　two　weddings　than　I；　and　I　sent　Sylvia　her　petticoat　as　a　wedding　present。


But　it　was　to　tell　of　other　matters　that　I　reopen　this　book　and　once　more　take　up　my　penmatters　so　near　to　my　heart　that　I　shrink　from　writing　of　them；　and　am　half　afraid　that　the　attempt　may　prove　too　hard　for　me　after　all；　and　my　book　end　on　a　broken　cry　of　pain。　　Yet；　at　the　same　time；　I　want　to　write　of　them；　for　they　are　beautiful　and　solemn；　and　good　food　for　the　heart。

Besides；　though　my　pilgrimage　had　been　ended　so　long；　they　are　really　a　part；　yea；　the　part　for　which；　though　I　knew　it　not；　all　the　rest　has　been　writtenfor　they　tell　how　I　came　to　find　by　accident　her　whom　so　long　I　had　sought　of　design。

How　shall　I　tell　of　Thee　who；　first　and　last　of　all　women；　gave　and　awoke　in　me　that　love　which　is　the　golden　key　of　the　world；　the　mystic　revelation　of　the　holy　meaning　of　life；　love　that　alone　may　pass　through　the　awful　gates　of　the　stars；　and　gaze　unafraid　into　the　blue　abysses　beyond？

Ah！　　Love；　it　seemed　far　away　indeed　from　the　stars；　the　place　where　we　met；　and　only　by　the　light　of　love's　eyes　might　we　have　found　each　otheras　only　by　the　light　of　love's　eyes　。　。　。　　But　enough；　my　Heart；　the　world　waits　to　hear　our　story；the　world　once　so　unloving　to　you；　the　world　with　a　heart　so　hard　and　anon　so　soft　for　love。　When　the　story　is　ended；　my　love；　when　the　story　is　ended



CHAPTER　II


GRACE　O'　GOD

It　was　a　hard　winter's　night　four　years　ago；　lovely　and　merciless；　and　towards　midnight　I　walked　home　from　a　theatre　to　my　rooms　in　St。　James's　Street。　　The　Venusberg　of　Piccadilly　looked　white　as　a　nun　with　snow　and　moonlight；　but　the　melancholy　music　of　pleasure；　and　the　sad　daughters　of　joy；　seemed　not　to　heed　the　cold。　　For　another　hour　death　and　pleasure　would　dance　there　beneath　the　electric　lights。

Through　the　strange　women　clustering　at　the　corners　I　took　my　way；women　of　the　Moabites；　Ammonites；　Edomites；　Zidonians；　and　Hittites；and　I　thought；　as　I　looked　into　their　poor　painted　faces；faces　but　half　human；　vampirish　faces；　faces　already　waxen　with　the　look　of　the　grave；I　thought；　as　I　often　did；　of　the　poor　little　girl　whom　De　Quincey　loved；　the　good…hearted　little　‘peripatetic'　as　he　called　her；　who　had　succoured　him　during　those　nights；　when；　as　a　young　man；　he　wandered　homeless　about　these　very　streets；that　good；　kind　little　Ann　whom　De　Quincey　had　loved；　then　so　strangely　lost；　and　for　whose　face　he　looked　into　women's　faces　as　long　as　he　lived。　　Often　have　I　stood　at　the　corner　of　Titchfield　Street；　and　thought　how　De　Quincey　had　stood　there　night　after　night　waiting　for　her　to　come；　but　all　in　vain；　and　how　from　the　abyss　of　oblivion　into　which　some　cruel　chance　had　swept　her；　not　one　cry　from　her　ever　reached　him　again。

I　thought；　too；　as　I　often　did；　what　if　the　face　I　seek　should　be　here　among　these　poor　outcasts；golden　face　hidden　behind　a　mask　of　shame；　true　heart　still　beating　true　even　amidst　this　infernal　world！

Thus　musing；　I　had　walked　my　way　out　of　the　throng；　and　only　a　figure　here　and　there　in　the　shadows　of　doorways　waited　and　waited　in　the　cold。

It　was　something　about　one　of　these　waiting　figures；some　movement；　some　chance　posture；that　presently　surprised　my　attention　and　awakened　a　sudden　sense　of　half　recognition。　　She　stood　well　in　the　shadow；　seeming　rather　to　shrink　from　than　to　court　attention。　　As　I　walked　close　by　her　and　looked　keenly　into　her　face；　she　cast　down　her　eyes　and　half　turned　away。　　Surely；　I　had　seen　that　tall；　noble　figure　somewhere　before；　that　haughty　head；　and　then　with　the　apparition　a　thought　struck　mebut；　no！　it　couldn't　be　she！　not　HERE！

〃It　is；〃　said　my　soul；　as　I　turned　and　walked　past　her　again；　〃you　missed　her　once；　are　you　going　to　miss　her　again？〃

〃It　is；〃　said　my　eyes；　as　they　swept　her　for　the　third　time；　〃but　she　had　glorious　chestnut　hair；　and　the　hair　of　this　woman　isgilded。〃

〃It　is　she；〃　said　my　heart；　〃thank　God；　it　is　she！〃

So　it　was　that　I　went　up　to　that　tall；　shy　figure。

〃It　must　be　very　cold　here；〃　I　said；　〃will　you　not　join　me　in　some　supper？〃

She　assented；　and　we　sought　one　of　the　many　radiating　centres　of　festivity　in　the　neighbourhood。　　She　was　very　tired　and　cold；　so　tired　she　seemed　hardly　to　have　the　spirit　to　eat；　and　evidently　the　cold　had　taken　tight　clutch　of　her　lungs；　for　she　had　a　cough　that　went　to　my　heart　to　hear；　and　her　face　was　ghastly　pale。　　When　I　had　persuaded　her　to　drink　a　little　wine；　she　grew　more　animated　and　spots　of　suspicious　colour　came　into　her　cheeks。　　So　far　she　had　seemed　all　but　oblivious　of　my　presence；　but　now　she　gave　me　a　sweet　smile　of　gratitude；　one　of　those　irradiating　transfiguring　smiles　that　change　the　whole　face；　and　belong　to　few　faces；　the　heavenly　smile　of　a　pure　soul。

Yes；　it　was　she！　　The　woman　who　sat　in　front　of　me　was　the　woman　whom　I　had　met　so　strangely　that　day　on　that　solitary　moorland；　and　whom　in　prophecy　still　more　strange　my　soul　had　declared　to　be；　〃now　and　for　ever　and　before　all　worlds　the　woman　God　had　created　for　me；　and　that　unless　I　could　be　hers　and　she　mine；　there　could　be　no　home；　no　peace；　for　either　of　us　so　long　as　we　lived〃　and　now　so　strangely　met　again。

Yes；　it　was　she！

For　the　moment　my　mind　had　room　for　no　other　thought。　　I　cared　not　to　conjecture　by　what　devious　ways　God　had　brought　her　to　my　side。　　I　cared　not　what　mire　her　feet　had　trodden。　　She　had　carried　her　face　pure　as　a　lily　through　all　the　foul　and　sooty　air。　　There　was　a　pure　heart　in　her　voice。　　Sin　is　of　the　soul；　and　this　soul　had　not　sinned！　　Let　him　that　is　without　sin　amongst　you　cast　the　first　stone。

〃Why　did　you　dye　that　wonderful　chestnut　hair？〃　I　asked　her　presentlyand　was　sorry　next　minute　for　the　pain　that　shot　across　her　face；　but　I　just　wanted　to　hint　at　what　I　designed　not　to　reveal　fully　till　later　on；　and　thus　to　hint　too　that　it　was　not　as　one　of　the　number　of　her　defilers　that　I　had　sought　her。

〃Why；〃　she　said；　〃how　do　you　know　the　colour　of　my　hair？　　We　have　never　met　before。〃

〃Yes；　we　have；〃　I　said；　〃and　that　was　why　I　spoke　to　you　to…night。　　I'll　tell　you　where　it　was　another　time。〃

But　after　all　I　could　not　desist　from　telling　her　that　night；　for；　as　afterwards　at　her　lodging　we　sat　over　the　fire；　talking　as　if　we　had　known　each　other　all　our　lives；　there　seemed　no　reason　for　an　arbitrary　delay。

I　described　to　her　the　solitary　moorland　road；　and　the　grey…gowned　woman's　figure　in　front　of　me；　and　the　gig　com