wessex tales-第3章

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predecessor。　　'Lived　here　long？　　Yes；　nearly　two　years。　　He　keeps　on
his　rooms　even　when　he's　not　here：　　the　soft　air　of　this　place　suits
his　chest；　and　he　likes　to　be　able　to　come　back　at　any　time。　　He　is
mostly　writing　or　reading；　and　doesn't　see　many　people；　though；　for
the　matter　of　that；　he　is　such　a　good；　kind　young　fellow　that　folks
would　only　be　too　glad　to　be　friendly　with　him　if　they　knew　him。
You　don't　meet　kind…hearted　people　every　day。'

'Ah；　he's　kind…hearted　。　。　。　and　good。'

'Yes；　he'll　oblige　me　in　anything　if　I　ask　him。　　〃Mr。　Trewe；〃　I　say
to　him　sometimes；　〃you　are　rather　out　of　spirits。〃　　〃Well；　I　am；
Mrs。　Hooper；〃　he'll　say；　〃though　I　don't　know　how　you　should　find　it
out。〃　　〃Why　not　take　a　little　change？〃　I　ask。　　Then　in　a　day　or　two
he'll　say　that　he　will　take　a　trip　to　Paris；　or　Norway；　or
somewhere；　and　I　assure　you　he　comes　back　all　the　better　for　it。'

'Ah；　indeed！　　His　is　a　sensitive　nature；　no　doubt。'

'Yes。　　Still　he's　odd　in　some　things。　　Once　when　he　had　finished　a
poem　of　his　composition　late　at　night　he　walked　up　and　down　the　room
rehearsing　it；　and　the　floors　being　so　thinjerry…built　houses；　you
know；　though　I　say　it　myselfhe　kept　me　awake　up　above　him　till　I
wished　him　further　。　。　。　But　we　get　on　very　well。'

This　was　but　the　beginning　of　a　series　of　conversations　about　the
rising　poet　as　the　days　went　on。　　On　one　of　these　occasions　Mrs。
Hooper　drew　Ella's　attention　to　what　she　had　not　noticed　before：
minute　scribblings　in　pencil　on　the　wall…paper　behind　the　curtains
at　the　head　of　the　bed。

'O！　let　me　look；'　said　Mrs。　Marchmill；　unable　to　conceal　a　rush　of
tender　curiosity　as　she　bent　her　pretty　face　close　to　the　wall。

'These；'　said　Mrs。　Hooper；　with　the　manner　of　a　woman　who　knew
things；　'are　the　very　beginnings　and　first　thoughts　of　his　verses。
He　has　tried　to　rub　most　of　them　out；　but　you　can　read　them　still。
My　belief　is　that　he　wakes　up　in　the　night；　you　know；　with　some
rhyme　in　his　head；　and　jots　it　down　there　on　the　wall　lest　he　should
forget　it　by　the　morning。　　Some　of　these　very　lines　you　see　here　I
have　seen　afterwards　in　print　in　the　magazines。　　Some　are　newer；
indeed；　I　have　not　seen　that　one　before。　　It　must　have　been　done
only　a　few　days　ago。'

'O　yes！　。　。　。　'

Ella　Marchmill　flushed　without　knowing　why；　and　suddenly　wished　her
companion　would　go　away；　now　that　the　information　was　imparted。　　An
indescribable　consciousness　of　personal　interest　rather　than
literary　made　her　anxious　to　read　the　inscription　alone；　and　she
accordingly　waited　till　she　could　do　so；　with　a　sense　that　a　great
store　of　emotion　would　be　enjoyed　in　the　act。

Perhaps　because　the　sea　was　choppy　outside　the　Island；　Ella's
husband　found　it　much　pleasanter　to　go　sailing　and　steaming　about
without　his　wife；　who　was　a　bad　sailor；　than　with　her。　　He　did　not
disdain　to　go　thus　alone　on　board　the　steamboats　of　the　cheap…
trippers；　where　there　was　dancing　by　moonlight；　and　where　the
couples　would　come　suddenly　down　with　a　lurch　into　each　other's
arms；　for；　as　he　blandly　told　her；　the　company　was　too　mixed　for　him
to　take　her　amid　such　scenes。　　Thus；　while　this　thriving
manufacturer　got　a　great　deal　of　change　and　sea…air　out　of　his
sojourn　here；　the　life；　external　at　least；　of　Ella　was　monotonous
enough；　and　mainly　consisted　in　passing　a　certain　number　of　hours
each　day　in　bathing　and　walking　up　and　down　a　stretch　of　shore。　　But
the　poetic　impulse　having　again　waxed　strong；　she　was　possessed　by
an　inner　flame　which　left　her　hardly　conscious　of　what　was
proceeding　around　her。

She　had　read　till　she　knew　by　heart　Trewe's　last　little　volume　of
verses；　and　spent　a　great　deal　of　time　in　vainly　attempting　to　rival
some　of　them；　till；　in　her　failure；　she　burst　into　tears。　　The
personal　element　in　the　magnetic　attraction　exercised　by　this
circumambient；　unapproachable　master　of　hers　was　so　much　stronger
than　the　intellectual　and　abstract　that　she　could　not　understand　it。
To　be　sure；　she　was　surrounded　noon　and　night　by　his　customary
environment；　which　literally　whispered　of　him　to　her　at　every
moment；　but　he　was　a　man　she　had　never　seen；　and　that　all　that　moved
her　was　the　instinct　to　specialize　a　waiting　emotion　on　the　first
fit　thing　that　came　to　hand　did　not；　of　course；　suggest　itself　to
Ella。

In　the　natural　way　of　passion　under　the　too　practical　conditions
which　civilization　has　devised　for　its　fruition；　her　husband's　love
for　her　had　not　survived；　except　in　the　form　of　fitful　friendship；
any　more　than；　or　even　so　much　as；　her　own　for　him；　and；　being　a
woman　of　very　living　ardours；　that　required　sustenance　of　some　sort；
they　were　beginning　to　feed　on　this　chancing　material；　which　was；
indeed；　of　a　quality　far　better　than　chance　usually　offers。

One　day　the　children　had　been　playing　hide…and…seek　in　a　closet；
whence；　in　their　excitement；　they　pulled　out　some　clothing。　　Mrs。
Hooper　explained　that　it　belonged　to　Mr。　Trewe；　and　hung　it　up　in
the　closet　again。　　Possessed　of　her　fantasy；　Ella　went　later　in　the
afternoon；　when　nobody　was　in　that　part　of　the　house；　opened　the
closet；　unhitched　one　of　the　articles；　a　mackintosh；　and　put　it　on；
with　the　waterproof　cap　belonging　to　it。

'The　mantle　of　Elijah！'　she　said。　　'Would　it　might　inspire　me　to
rival　him；　glorious　genius　that　he　is！'

Her　eyes　always　grew　wet　when　she　thought　like　that；　and　she　turned
to　look　at　herself　in　the　glass。　　HIS　heart　had　beat　inside　that
coat；　and　HIS　brain　had　worked　under　that　hat　at　levels　of　thought
she　would　never　reach。　　The　consciousness　of　her　weakness　beside　him
made　her　feel　quite　sick。　　Before　she　had　got　the　things　off　her　the
door　opened；　and　her　husband　entered　the　room。

'What　the　devil'

She　blushed；　and　removed　them

'I　found　them　in　the　closet　here；'　she　said；　'and　put　them　on　in　a
freak。　　What　have　I　else　to　do？　　You　are　always　away！'

'Always　away？　　Well　。　。　。　'

That　evening　she　had　a　further　talk　with　the　landlady；　who　might
herself　have　nourished　a　half…tender　regard　for　the　poet；　so　ready
was　she　to　discourse　ardently　about　him。

'You　are　interested　in　Mr。　Trewe；　I　know；　ma'am；'　she　said；　'and　he
has　just　sent　to　say　that　he　is　going　to　call　to…morrow　afternoon　to
look　up　some　books　of　his　that　he　wants；　if　I'll　be　in；　and　he　may
select　them　from　your　room？'

'O　yes！'

'You　could　very　well　meet　Mr　Trewe　then；　if　you'd　like　to　be　in　the
way！'

She　promised　with　secret　delight；　and　went　to　bed　musing　of　him。

Next　morning　her　husband　observed：　　'I've　been　thinking　of　what　you
said；　Ell：　　that　I　have　gone　about　a　good　deal　and　left　you　without
much　to　amuse　you。　　Perhaps　it's　true。　　To…day；　as　there's　not　much
sea；　I'll　take　you　with　me　on　board　the　yacht。'

For　the　first　time　in　her　experience　of　such　an　offer　Ella　was　not
glad。　　But　she　accepted　it　for　the　moment。　　The　time　for　setting　out
drew　near；　and　she　went　to　get　ready。　　She　stood　reflecting。　　The
longing　to　see　the　poet　she　was　now　distinctly　in　love　with
overpowered　all　other　considerations。

'I　don't　want　to　go；'　she　said　to　herself。　　'I　can't　bear　to　be
away！　　And　I　won't　go。'

She　told　her　husband　that　she　had　changed　her　mind　about　wishing　to
sail。　　He　was　indifferent；　and　went　his　way。

For　the　rest　of　the　day　the　house　was　quiet；　the　children　having
gone　out　upon　the　sands。　　The　blinds　waved　in　the　sunshine　to　the
soft；　steady　stroke　of　the　sea　beyond　the　wall；　and　the　notes　of　the
Green　Silesian　band；　a　troop　of　foreign　gentlemen　hired　for　the
season；　had　drawn　almost　all　the　residents　and　promenaders　away　from
the　vicinity　of　Coburg　House。　　A　knock　was　audible　at　the　door。

Mrs。　Marchmill　did　not　hear　any　servant　go　to　answer　it；　and　she
became　impatient。　　The　books　were　in　the　room　where　she　sat；　but
nobody　came　up。　　She　rang　the　bell。

'There　is　some　person　waiting　at　the　door；'　she　said。

'O　no；　ma'am！　　He's　gone　long　ago。　　I　answered　it。'

Mrs。　Hooper　came　in　herself。

'So　disappointing！'　she　said。　　'Mr。　Trewe　not　coming　after　all！'

'But　I　heard　him　knock；　I　fancy！'

'No；　that　was　somebody　inquiring　for　lodgings　who　came　to　the　wrong
house。　　I　forgot　to　tell　you　that　Mr。　Trewe　sent　a　note　ju