wessex tales-第4章

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'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　just　before
lunch　to　say　I　needn't　get　any　tea　for　him；　as　he　should　not　require
the　books；　and　wouldn't　come　to　select　them。'

Ella　was　miserable；　and　for　a　long　time　could　not　even　re…read　his
mournful　ballad　on　'Severed　Lives；'　so　aching　was　her　erratic　little
heart；　and　so　tearful　her　eyes。　　When　the　children　came　in　with　wet
stockings；　and　ran　up　to　her　to　tell　her　of　their　adventures；　she
could　not　feel　that　she　cared　about　them　half　as　much　as　usual。

*　*　*

'Mrs。　Hooper；　have　you　a　photograph　ofthe　gentleman　who　lived
here？'　　She　was　getting　to　be　curiously　shy　in　mentioning　his　name。

'Why；　yes。　　It's　in　the　ornamental　frame　on　the　mantelpiece　in　your
own　bedroom；　ma'am。'

'No；　the　Royal　Duke　and　Duchess　are　in　that。'

'Yes；　so　they　are；　but　he's　behind　them。　　He　belongs　rightly　to　that
frame；　which　I　bought　on　purpose；　but　as　he　went　away　he　said：
〃Cover　me　up　from　those　strangers　that　are　coming；　for　God's　sake。
I　don't　want　them　staring　at　me；　and　I　am　sure　they　won't　want　me
staring　at　them。〃　　So　I　slipped　in　the　Duke　and　Duchess　temporarily
in　front　of　him；　as　they　had　no　frame；　and　Royalties　are　more
suitable　for　letting　furnished　than　a　private　young　man。　　If　you
take　'em　out　you'll　see　him　under。　　Lord；　ma'am；　he　wouldn't　mind　if
he　knew　it！　　He　didn't　think　the　next　tenant　would　be　such　an
attractive　lady　as　you；　or　he　wouldn't　have　thought　of　hiding
himself；　perhaps。'

'Is　he　handsome？'　she　asked　timidly。

'_I_　call　him　so。　　Some；　perhaps；　wouldn't。'

'Should　I？'　she　asked；　with　eagerness。

'I　think　you　would；　though　some　would　say　he's　more　striking　than
handsome；　a　large…eyed　thoughtful　fellow；　you　know；　with　a　very
electric　flash　in　his　eye　when　he　looks　round　quickly；　such　as　you'd
expect　a　poet　to　be　who　doesn't　get　his　living　by　it。'

'How　old　is　he？'

'Several　years　older　than　yourself；　ma'am；　about　thirty…one　or　two；
I　think。'

Ella　was；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　a　few　months　over　thirty　herself；　but
she　did　not　look　nearly　so　much。　　Though　so　immature　in　nature；　she
was　entering　on　that　tract　of　life　in　which　emotional　women　begin　to
suspect　that　last　love　may　be　stronger　than　first　love；　and　she
would　soon；　alas；　enter　on　the　still　more　melancholy　tract　when　at
least　the　vainer　ones　of　her　sex　shrink　from　receiving　a　male
visitor　otherwise　than　with　their　backs　to　the　window　or　the　blinds
half　down。　　She　reflected　on　Mrs。　Hooper's　remark；　and　said　no　more
about　age。

Just　then　a　telegram　was　brought　up。　　It　came　from　her　husband；　who
had　gone　down　the　Channel　as　far　as　Budmouth　with　his　friends　in　the
yacht；　and　would　not　be　able　to　get　back　till　next　day。

After　her　light　dinner　Ella　idled　about　the　shore　with　the　children
till　dusk；　thinking　of　the　yet　uncovered　photograph　in　her　room；
with　a　serene　sense　of　something　ecstatic　to　come。　　For；　with　the
subtle　luxuriousness　of　fancy　in　which　this　young　woman　was　an
adept；　on　learning　that　her　husband　was　to　be　absent　that　night　she
had　refrained　from　incontinently　rushing　upstairs　and　opening　the
picture…frame；　preferring　to　reserve　the　inspection　till　she　could
be　alone；　and　a　more　romantic　tinge　be　imparted　to　the　occasion　by
silence；　candles；　solemn　sea　and　stars　outside；　than　was　afforded　by
the　garish　afternoon　sunlight。

The　children　had　been　sent　to　bed；　and　Ella　soon　followed；　though　it
was　not　yet　ten　o'clock。　　To　gratify　her　passionate　curiosity　she
now　made　her　preparations；　first　getting　rid　of　superfluous　garments
and　putting　on　her　dressing…gown；　then　arranging　a　chair　in　front　of
the　table　and　reading　several　pages　of　Trewe's　tenderest　utterances。
Then　she　fetched　the　portrait…frame　to　the　light；　opened　the　back；
took　out　the　likeness；　and　set　it　up　before　her。

It　was　a　striking　countenance　to　look　upon。　　The　poet　wore　a
luxuriant　black　moustache　and　imperial；　and　a　slouched　hat　which
shaded　the　forehead。　　The　large　dark　eyes；　described　by　the
landlady；　showed　an　unlimited　capacity　for　misery；　they　looked　out
from　beneath　well…shaped　brows　as　if　they　were　reading　the　universe
in　the　microcosm　of　the　confronter's　face；　and　were　not　altogether
overjoyed　at　what　the　spectacle　portended。

Ella　murmured　in　her　lowest；　richest；　tenderest　tone：　　'And　it's　YOU
who've　so　cruelly　eclipsed　me　these　many　times！'

As　she　gazed　long　at　the　portrait　she　fell　into　thought；　till　her
eyes　filled　with　tears；　and　she　touched　the　cardboard　with　her　lips。
Then　she　laughed　with　a　nervous　lightness；　and　wiped　her　eyes。

She　thought　how　wicked　she　was；　a　woman　having　a　husband　and　three
children；　to　let　her　mind　stray　to　a　stranger　in　this　unconscionable
manner。　　No；　he　was　not　a　stranger！　　She　knew　his　thoughts　and
feelings　as　well　as　she　knew　her　own；　they　were；　in　fact；　the　self…
same　thoughts　and　feelings　as　hers；　which　her　husband　distinctly
lacked；　perhaps　luckily　for　himself；　considering　that　he　had　to
provide　for　family　expenses。

'He's　nearer　my　real　self；　he's　more　intimate　with　the　real　me　than
Will　is；　after　all；　even　though　I've　never　seen　him；'　she　said。

She　laid　his　book　and　picture　on　the　table　at　the　bedside；　and　when
she　was　reclining　on　the　pillow　she　re…read　those　of　Robert　Trewe's
verses　which　she　had　marked　from　time　to　time　as　most　touching　and
true。　　Putting　these　aside；　she　set　up　the　photograph　on　its　edge
upon　the　coverlet；　and　contemplated　it　as　she　lay。　　Then　she　scanned
again　by　the　light　of　the　candle　the　half…obliterated　pencillings　on
the　wall…paper　beside　her　head。　　There　they　werephrases；　couplets；
bouts…rimes；　beginnings　and　middles　of　lines；　ideas　in　the　rough；
like　Shelley's　scraps；　and　the　least　of　them　so　intense；　so　sweet；
so　palpitating；　that　it　seemed　as　if　his　very　breath；　warm　and
loving；　fanned　her　cheeks　from　those　walls；　walls　that　had
surrounded　his　head　times　and　times　as　they　surrounded　her　own　now。
He　must　often　have　put　up　his　hand　sowith　the　pencil　in　it。　　Yes；
the　writing　was　sideways；　as　it　would　be　if　executed　by　one　who
extended　his　arm　thus。

These　inscribed　shapes　of　the　poet's　world；


'Forms　more　real　than　living　man；
Nurslings　of　immortality；'


were；　no　doubt；　the　thoughts　and　spirit…strivings　which　had　come　to
him　in　the　dead　of　night；　when　he　could　let　himself　go　and　have　no
fear　of　the　frost　of　criticism。　　No　doubt　they　had　often　been
written　up　hastily　by　the　light　of　the　moon；　the　rays　of　the　lamp；
in　the　blue…grey　dawn；　in　full　daylight　perhaps　never。　　And　now　her
hair　was　dragging　where　his　arm　had　lain　when　he　secured　the
fugitive　fancies；　she　was　sleeping　on　a　poet's　lips；　immersed　in　the
very　essence　of　him；　permeated　by　his　spirit　as　by　an　ether。

While　she　was　dreaming　the　minutes　away　thus；　a　footstep　came　upon
the　stairs；　and　in　a　moment　she　heard　her　husband's　heavy　step　on
the　landing　immediately　without。

'Ell；　where　are　you？'

What　possessed　her　she　could　not　have　described；　but；　with　an
instinctive　objection　to　let　her　husband　know　what　she　had　been
doing；　she　slipped　the　photograph　under　the　pillow　just　as　he　flung
open　the　door；　with　the　air　of　a　man　who　had　dined　not　badly。

'O；　I　beg　pardon；'　said　William　Marchmill。　　'Have　you　a　headache？　　I
am　afraid　I　have　disturbed　you。'

'No；　I've　not　got　a　headache；'　said　she。　　'How　is　it　you've　come？'

'Well；　we　found　we　could　get　back　in　very　good　time　after　all；　and　I
didn't　want　to　make　another　day　of　it；　because　of　going　somewhere
else　to…morrow。'

'Shall　I　come　down　again？'

'O　no。　　I'm　as　tired　as　a　dog。　　I've　had　a　good　feed；　and　I　shall
turn　in　straight　off。　　I　want　to　get　out　at　six　o'clock　to…morrow　if
I　can　。　。　。　I　shan't　disturb　you　by　my　getting　up；　it　will　be　long
before　you　are　awake。'　　And　he　came　forward　into　the　room。

While　her　eyes　followed　his　movements；　Ella　softly　pushed　the
photograph　further　out　of　sight。

'Sure　you're　not　ill？'　he　asked；　bending　over　her。

'No；　only　wicked！'

'Never　mind　that。'　　And　he　stooped　and　kissed　her。

Next　morning　Marchmill　was　called　at　six　o'clock；　and　in　waking