desperate remedies-第6章

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men　they　are；　as　a　rule；　the　most　professional。'

'Yes；　perhaps　they　are。　　This　man　is　rather　of　a　melancholy　turn　of
mind；　I　think。'

'Has　the　managing　clerk　any　family？'　she　mildly　asked；　after　a
while；　pouring　out　some　more　tea。

'Family；　no！'

'Well；　dear　Owen；　how　should　I　know？'

'Why；　of　course　he　isn't　married。　　But　there　happened　to　be　a
conversation　about　women　going　on　in　the　office；　and　I　heard　him　say
what　he　should　wish　his　wife　to　be　like。'

'What　would　he　wish　his　wife　to　be　like？'　she　said；　with　great
apparent　lack　of　interest。

'O；　he　says　she　must　be　girlish　and　artless：　　yet　he　would　be　loth
to　do　without　a　dash　of　womanly　subtlety；　'tis　so　piquant。　　Yes；　he
said；　that　must　be　in　her；　she　must　have　womanly　cleverness。　　〃And
yet　I　should　like　her　to　blush　if　only　a　cock…sparrow　were　to　look
at　her　hard；〃　he　said；　〃which　brings　me　back　to　the　girl　again：　　and
so　I　flit　backwards　and　forwards。　　I　must　have　what　comes；　I
suppose；〃　he　said；　〃and　whatever　she　may　be；　thank　God　she's　no
worse。　　However；　if　he　might　give　a　final　hint　to　Providence；〃　he
said；　〃a　child　among　pleasures；　and　a　woman　among　pains　was　the
rough　outline　of　his　requirement。〃'

'Did　he　say　that？　　What　a　musing　creature　he　must　be。'

'He　did；　indeed。'

3。　　FROM　THE　TWELFTH　TO　THE　FIFTEENTH　OF　JULY

As　is　well　known；　ideas　are　so　elastic　in　a　human　brain；　that　they
have　no　constant　measure　which　may　be　called　their　actual　bulk。　　Any
important　idea　may　be　compressed　to　a　molecule　by　an　unwonted
crowding　of　others；　and　any　small　idea　will　expand　to　whatever
length　and　breadth　of　vacuum　the　mind　may　be　able　to　make　over　to
it。　　Cytherea's　world　was　tolerably　vacant　at　this　time；　and　the
young　architectural　designer's　image　became　very　pervasive。　　The
next　evening　this　subject　was　again　renewed。

'His　name　is　Springrove；'　said　Owen；　in　reply　to　her。　　'He　is　a
thorough　artist；　but　a　man　of　rather　humble　origin；　it　seems；　who
has　made　himself　so　far。　　I　think　he　is　the　son　of　a　farmer；　or
something　of　the　kind。'

'Well；　he's　none　the　worse　for　that；　I　suppose。'

'None　the　worse。　　As　we　come　down　the　hill；　we　shall　be　continually
meeting　people　going　up。'　　But　Owen　had　felt　that　Springrove　was　a
little　the　worse　nevertheless。

'Of　course　he's　rather　old　by　this　time。'

'O　no。　　He's　about　six…and…twentynot　more。'

'Ah；　I　see。　。　。　。　　What　is　he　like；　Owen？'

'I　can't　exactly　tell　you　his　appearance：　　'tis　always　such　a
difficult　thing　to　do。'

'A　man　you　would　describe　as　short？　　Most　men　are　those　we　should
describe　as　short；　I　fancy。'

'I　should　call　him；　I　think；　of　the　middle　height；　but　as　I　only　see
him　sitting　in　the　office；　of　course　I　am　not　certain　about　his　form
and　figure。'

'I　wish　you　were；　then。'

'Perhaps　you　do。　　But　I　am　not；　you　see。'

'Of　course　not；　you　are　always　so　provoking。　　Owen；　I　saw　a　man　in
the　street　to…day　whom　I　fancied　was　heand　yet；　I　don't　see　how　it
could　be；　either。　　He　had　light　brown　hair；　a　snub　nose；　very　round
face；　and　a　peculiar　habit　of　reducing　his　eyes　to　straight　lines
when　he　looked　narrowly　at　anything。'

'O　no。　　That　was　not　he；　Cytherea。'

'Not　a　bit　like　him　in　all　probability。'

'Not　a　bit。　　He　has　dark　hairalmost　a　Grecian　nose；　regular　teeth；
and　an　intellectual　face；　as　nearly　as　I　can　recall　to　mind。'

'Ah；　there　now；　Owen；　you　HAVE　described　him！　　But　I　suppose　he's
not　generally　called　pleasing；　or'

'Handsome？'

'I　scarcely　meant　that。　　But　since　you　have　said　it；　is　he
handsome？'

'Rather。'

'His　tout　ensemble　is　striking？'

'YesO　no；　noI　forgot：　　it　is　not。　　He　is　rather　untidy　in　his
waistcoat；　and　neck…ties；　and　hair。'

'How　vexing！。　。　。　　it　must　be　to　himself；　poor　thing。'

'He's　a　thorough　bookwormdespises　the　pap…and…daisy　school　of
verseknows　Shakespeare　to　the　very　dregs　of　the　foot…notes。
Indeed；　he's　a　poet　himself　in　a　small　way。'

'How　delicious！'　she　said。　　'I　have　never　known　a　poet。'

'And　you　don't　know　him；'　said　Owen　dryly。

She　reddened。　　'Of　course　I　don't。　　I　know　that。'

'Have　you　received　any　answer　to　your　advertisement？'　he　inquired。

'Ahno！'　she　said；　and　the　forgotten　disappointment　which　had
showed　itself　in　her　face　at　different　times　during　the　day；　became
visible　again。

Another　day　passed　away。　　On　Thursday；　without　inquiry；　she　learnt
more　of　the　head　draughtsman。　　He　and　Graye　had　become　very
friendly；　and　he　had　been　tempted　to　show　her　brother　a　copy　of　some
poems　of　hissome　serious　and　sadsome　humorouswhich　had
appeared　in　the　poets'　corner　of　a　magazine　from　time　to　time。　　Owen
showed　them　now　to　Cytherea；　who　instantly　began　to　read　them
carefully　and　to　think　them　very　beautiful。

'YesSpringrove's　no　fool；'　said　Owen　sententiously。

'No　fool！I　should　think　he　isn't；　indeed；'　said　Cytherea；　looking
up　from　the　paper　in　quite　an　excitement：　　'to　write　such　verses　as
these！'

'What　logic　are　you　chopping；　Cytherea？　　Well；　I　don't　mean　on
account　of　the　verses；　because　I　haven't　read　them；　but　for　what　he
said　when　the　fellows　were　talking　about　falling　in　love。'

'Which　you　will　tell　me？'

'He　says　that　your　true　lover　breathlessly　finds　himself　engaged　to
a　sweetheart；　like　a　man　who　has　caught　something　in　the　dark。　　He
doesn't　know　whether　it　is　a　bat　or　a　bird；　and　takes　it　to　the
light　when　he　is　cool　to　learn　what　it　is。　　He　looks　to　see　if　she
is　the　right　age；　but　right　age　or　wrong　age；　he　must　consider　her　a
prize。　　Sometime　later　he　ponders　whether　she　is　the　right　kind　of
prize　for　him。　　Right　kind　or　wrong　kindhe　has　called　her　his；　and
must　abide　by　it。　　After　a　time　he　asks　himself；　〃Has　she　the
temper；　hair；　and　eyes　I　meant　to　have；　and　was　firmly　resolved　not
to　do　without？〃　　He　finds　it　is　all　wrong；　and　then　comes　the
tussle'

'Do　they　marry　and　live　happily？'

'Who？　　O；　the　supposed　pair。　　I　think　he　saidwell；　I　really　forget
what　he　said。'

'That　IS　stupid　of　you！'　said　the　young　lady　with　dismay。

'Yes。'

'But　he's　a　satiristI　don't　think　I　care　about　him　now。'

'There　you　are　just　wrong。　　He　is　not。　　He　is；　as　I　believe；　an
impulsive　fellow　who　has　been　made　to　pay　the　penalty　of　his
rashness　in　some　love　affair。'

Thus　ended　the　dialogue　of　Thursday；　but　Cytherea　read　the　verses
again　in　private。　　On　Friday　her　brother　remarked　that　Springrove
had　informed　him　he　was　going　to　leave　Mr。　Gradfield's　in　a
fortnight　to　push　his　fortunes　in　London。

An　indescribable　feeling　of　sadness　shot　through　Cytherea's　heart。
Why　should　she　be　sad　at　such　an　announcement　as　that；　she　thought；
concerning　a　man　she　had　never　seen；　when　her　spirits　were　elastic
enough　to　rebound　after　hard　blows　from　deep　and　real　troubles　as　if
she　had　scarcely　known　them？　　Though　she　could　not　answer　this
question；　she　knew　one　thing；　she　was　saddened　by　Owen's　news。

4。　　JULY　THE　TWENTY…FIRST

A　very　popular　local　excursion　by　steamboat　to　Lulstead　Cove　was
announced　through　the　streets　of　Budmouth　one　Thursday　morning　by
the　weak…voiced　town…crier；　to　start　at　six　o'clock　the　same　day。
The　weather　was　lovely；　and　the　opportunity　being　the　first　of　the
kind　offered　to　them；　Owen　and　Cytherea　went　with　the　rest。

They　had　reached　the　Cove；　and　had　walked　landward　for　nearly　an
hour　over　the　hill　which　rose　beside　the　strand；　when　Graye
recollected　that　two　or　three　miles　yet　further　inland　from　this
spot　was　an　interesting　mediaeval　ruin。　　He　was　already　familiar
with　its　characteristics　through　the　medium　of　an　archaeological
work；　and　now　finding　himself　so　close　to　the　reality；　felt　inclined
to　verify　some　theory　he　had　formed　respecting　it。　　Concluding　that
there　would　be　just　sufficient　time　for　him　to　go　there　and　return
before　the　boat　had　left　the　shore；　he　parted　from　Cytherea　on　the
hill；　struck　downwards；　and　then　up　a　heathery　valley。

She　remained　on　the　summit　where　he　had　left　her　till　the　time　of
his　expected　return；　scanning　the　details　of　the　prospect　around。
Placidly　spread　out　before　her　on　the　south　was　the　open　Channel；
reflecting　a　blue　intenser　by　many　shades　than　that　of　the　sky
overhead；　and　dotted　in　the　foreground　by　half…a…dozen　small　craft