the quest of the golden girl-第35章
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I described to her the solitary moorland road； and the grey…gowned woman's figure in front of me； and the gig coming along to meet her； and the salutation of the two girls； and I told her all one look of her face had meant for me； and how I had wildly sought her in vain； and from that day to this had held her image in my heart。
And as I told her； she sobbed with her head against my knees and her great hair filling my lap with gold。 In broken words she drew for me the other side of the picture of that long…past summer day。
Yes； the girl in the gig was her sister； and they were the only daughters of a farmer who had been rich once； but had come to ruin by drink and misfortune。 They had been brought up from girls by an old grandmother； with whom the sister was living at the time of my seeing them。 Yes； Tom was her husband。 He was a doctor in the neighbourhood when he married her； and a man； I surmised； of some parts and promise； but； moving to town； he had fallen into loose ways； taken to drinking and gambling； and had finally deserted her for another womanat the very moment when their first child was born。 The child died 〃Thank God！〃 she added with sudden vehemence； and 〃Iwell； you will wonder how I came to this； I wonder myself it has all happened but six months ago； and yet I seem to have forgottenonly the broken… hearted and the hungry would understand； if I could rememberand yet it was not life； certainly not life I wantedand yet I couldn't die〃
The more I came to know Elizabeth and realise the rare delicacy of her nature； the simplicity of her mind； and the purity of her soul； the less was I able to comprehend the psychology of that false step which her great misery had forced her to take。 For hers was not a sensual； pleasure…loving nature。 In fact； there was a certain curious Puritanism about her； a Puritanism which found a startlingly incongruous and almost laughable expression in the Scripture almanac which hung on the wall at the end of her bed； and the Bible； and two or three Sunday…school stories which； with a copy of 〃Jane Eyre；〃 were the only books that lay upon the circular mahogany table。
Once I ventured gently to chaff her about this religiosity of hers。
〃But surely you believe in God； dear；〃 she had answered； 〃you're not an atheist！〃
I think an atheist； with all her experience of human monsters； was for her the depth of human depravity。
〃No； dear；〃 I had answered； 〃if you can believe in God； surely I can！〃
I repeat that this gap in Elizabeth's psychology puzzled me； and it puzzles me still； but it puzzled me only as the method of working out some problem which after all had 〃come out right〃 might puzzle one。 It was only the process that was obscure。 The result was gold； whatever the dark process might be。 Was it simply that Elizabeth was one of that rare few who can touch pitch and not be defiled？or was it； I have sometimes wondered； an unconscious and after all a sound casuistry that had saved Elizabeth's soul； an instinctive philosophy that taught her； so to say； to lay a Sigurd's sword between her soul and body； and to argue that nothing can defile the body without the consent of the soul。
In deep natures there is always what one might call a lover's leap to be taken by those that would love themsomething one cannot understand to be taken on trust； something even that one fears to be gladly adventured 。 。 。 all this； and more； I knew that I could safely venture for Elizabeth's sake； ere I kissed her white brow and stole away in the early hours of that winter's morning。
As I did so I had taken one of the sumptuous strands of her hair into my hand and kissed it too。
〃Promise me to let this come back to its own beautiful colour；〃 I had said； as I nodded to a little phial labelled 〃Peroxide of Hydrogen〃 on her mantelshelf。
〃Would you like to？〃 she had said。
〃Yes； do it for me。〃
One day some months after I cut from her dear head one long thick lock； one half of which was gold and the other half chestnut。 I take it out and look at it as I write； and； as when I first cut it； it seems still a symbol of Elizabeth's life； the sun and the shadow； only that the gold was the shadow； and the chestnut was the sun。
The time came when the locks； from crown to tip； were all chestnutbut when it came I would have given the world for them to be gold again； for Elizabeth had said a curious thing when she had given me her promise。
〃All right； dear；〃 she had said； 〃but something tells me that when they are all brown again our happiness will be at an end。〃
〃How long will that take？〃 I had said； trying to be gay； though an involuntary shudder had gone through me； less at her words than because of the strange conviction of her manner。
〃About two years；perhaps a little more；〃 she said； answering me quite seriously； as she gravely measured the shining tresses； half her body's length； with her eye。
CHAPTER III
THE GOLDEN GIRL
One fresh and sunny morning； some months after this night； Elizabeth and I stood before the simple altar of a little country church； for the news had come to us that her husband was dead； and thus we were free to belong to each other before all the world。 The exquisite stillness in the cool old church was as the peace in our hearts； and the rippling sound of the sunlit leaves outside seemed like the very murmur of the stream of life down which we dreamed of gliding together from that hour。
It was one of those moments which sometimes come and go without any apparent cause； when life suddenly takes a mystical aspect of completeness； all its discords are harmonised by some unseen hand of the spirit； and all its imperfections fall away。 The lover of beauty and the lover of God alike know these strange moments； but none know them with such a mighty satisfaction as a man and a woman who love as loved Elizabeth and I。
Love for ever completes the world； for it is no future of higher achievement； no expectation of greater joy。 It lives for ever in a present made perfect by itself。 Love can dream of no greater blessedness than itself； of no heaven but its own。 God himself could have added no touch of happiness to our happy hearts that grave and sunny morning。 You philosophers who go searching for the meaning of life； thinkers reading so sadly； and let us hope so wrongly； the riddle of the worldlife has but one meaning； the riddle but one answerwhich is Love。 To love is to put yourself in harmony with the spheral music of creation； to stand in the centre of the universe； and see it good and whole as it appears in the eye of God。
Even Death himself； the great and terrible King of kings； though he may break the heart of love with agonies and anguish and slow tortures of separation； may break not his faith。 No one that has loved will dream even death too terrible a price to pay for the revelation of love。 For that revelation once made can never be recalled。 As a little sprig of lavender will perfume a queen's wardrobe； so will a short year of love keep sweet a long life。 And love's best gifts death can never take away。 Nay； indeed； death does not so much rob as enrich the gifts of love。 The dead face that was fair grows fairer each spring； sweet memories grow more sweet； what was silver is now gold； and as years go by； the very death of love becomes its immortality。
I think I shall never hear Elizabeth's voice again； never look into her eyes； never kiss her dear lipsbut Elizabeth is still mine； and I am hers； as in that morning when we kissed in that little chancel amid the flickering light； and passed out into the sun and down the lanes； to our little home among the meadow…sweet。
She is still as real to me as the stars；and； alas； as far away！ I think no thought that does not fly to her； I have no joys I do not share with her； I tell her when the spring is here； and we sit beneath the moon and listen to the nightjar together。 Sometimes we are merry together as in the old time； and our laughter makes nightfaring folk to cross themselves； my work； my dreams； my loves； are all hers； and my very sins are sinned for her sake。
Two years did Elizabeth and I know the love that passeth all understanding； and day by day the chestnut upon her
