wessex tales-第7章

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on　one　of　these　occasions。　　'Crying　over　something？　　A　lock　of　hair？
Whose　is　it？'

'He's　dead！'　she　murmured。

'Who？'

'I　don't　want　to　tell　you；　Will；　just　now；　unless　you　insist！'　she
said；　a　sob　hanging　heavy　in　her　voice。

'O；　all　right。'

'Do　you　mind　my　refusing？　　I　will　tell　you　some　day。'

'It　doesn't　matter　in　the　least；　of　course。'

He　walked　away　whistling　a　few　bars　of　no　tune　in　particular；　and
when　he　had　got　down　to　his　factory　in　the　city　the　subject　came
into　Marchmill's　head　again。

He；　too；　was　aware　that　a　suicide　had　taken　place　recently　at　the
house　they　had　occupied　at　Solentsea。　　Having　seen　the　volume　of
poems　in　his　wife's　hand　of　late；　and　heard　fragments　of　the
landlady's　conversation　about　Trewe　when　they　were　her　tenants；　he
all　at　once　said　to　himself；　'Why　of　course　it's　he！　　How　the　devil
did　she　get　to　know　him？　　What　sly　animals　women　are！'

Then　he　placidly　dismissed　the　matter；　and　went　on　with　his　daily
affairs。　　By　this　time　Ella　at　home　had　come　to　a　determination。
Mrs。　Hooper；　in　sending　the　hair　and　photograph；　had　informed　her　of
the　day　of　the　funeral；　and　as　the　morning　and　noon　wore　on　an
overpowering　wish　to　know　where　they　were　laying　him　took　possession
of　the　sympathetic　woman。　　Caring　very　little　now　what　her　husband
or　any　one　else　might　think　of　her　eccentricities；　she　wrote
Marchmill　a　brief　note；　stating　that　she　was　called　away　for　the
afternoon　and　evening；　but　would　return　on　the　following　morning。
This　she　left　on　his　desk；　and　having　given　the　same　information　to
the　servants；　went　out　of　the　house　on　foot。

When　Mr。　Marchmill　reached　home　early　in　the　afternoon　the　servants
looked　anxious。　　The　nurse　took　him　privately　aside；　and　hinted　that
her　mistress's　sadness　during　the　past　few　days　had　been　such　that
she　feared　she　had　gone　out　to　drown　herself。　　Marchmill　reflected。
Upon　the　whole　he　thought　that　she　had　not　done　that。　　Without
saying　whither　he　was　bound　he　also　started　off；　telling　them　not　to
sit　up　for　him。　　He　drove　to　the　railway…station；　and　took　a　ticket
for　Solentsea。

It　was　dark　when　he　reached　the　place；　though　he　had　come　by　a　fast
train；　and　he　knew　that　if　his　wife　had　preceded　him　thither　it
could　only　have　been　by　a　slower　train；　arriving　not　a　great　while
before　his　own。　　The　season　at　Solentsea　was　now　past：　　the　parade
was　gloomy；　and　the　flys　were　few　and　cheap。　　He　asked　the　way　to
the　Cemetery；　and　soon　reached　it。　　The　gate　was　locked；　but　the
keeper　let　him　in；　declaring；　however；　that　there　was　nobody　within
the　precincts。　　Although　it　was　not　late；　the　autumnal　darkness　had
now　become　intense；　and　he　found　some　difficulty　in　keeping　to　the
serpentine　path　which　led　to　the　quarter　where；　as　the　man　had　told
him；　the　one　or　two　interments　for　the　day　had　taken　place。　　He
stepped　upon　the　grass；　and；　stumbling　over　some　pegs；　stooped　now
and　then　to　discern　if　possible　a　figure　against　the　sky。

He　could　see　none；　but　lighting　on　a　spot　where　the　soil　was
trodden；　beheld　a　crouching　object　beside　a　newly　made　grave。　　She
heard　him；　and　sprang　up。

'Ell；　how　silly　this　is！'　he　said　indignantly。　　'Running　away　from
homeI　never　heard　such　a　thing！　　Of　course　I　am　not　jealous　of
this　unfortunate　man；　but　it　is　too　ridiculous　that　you；　a　married
woman　with　three　children　and　a　fourth　coming；　should　go　losing　your
head　like　this　over　a　dead　lover！　。　。　。　Do　you　know　you　were　locked
in？　　You　might　not　have　been　able　to　get　out　all　night。'

She　did　not　answer。

'I　hope　it　didn't　go　far　between　you　and　him；　for　your　own　sake。'

'Don't　insult　me；　Will。'

'Mind；　I　won't　have　any　more　of　this　sort　of　thing；　do　you　hear？'

'Very　well；'　she　said。

He　drew　her　arm　within　his　own；　and　conducted　her　out　of　the
Cemetery。　　It　was　impossible　to　get　back　that　night；　and　not　wishing
to　be　recognized　in　their　present　sorry　condition；　he　took　her　to　a
miserable　little　coffee…house　close　to　the　station；　whence　they
departed　early　in　the　morning；　travelling　almost　without　speaking；
under　the　sense　that　it　was　one　of　those　dreary　situations　occurring
in　married　life　which　words　could　not　mend；　and　reaching　their　own
door　at　noon。

The　months　passed；　and　neither　of　the　twain　ever　ventured　to　start　a
conversation　upon　this　episode。　　Ella　seemed　to　be　only　too
frequently　in　a　sad　and　listless　mood；　which　might　almost　have　been
called　pining。　　The　time　was　approaching　when　she　would　have　to
undergo　the　stress　of　childbirth　for　a　fourth　time；　and　that
apparently　did　not　tend　to　raise　her　spirits。

'I　don't　think　I　shall　get　over　it　this　time！'　she　said　one　day。

'Pooh！　what　childish　foreboding！　　Why　shouldn't　it　be　as　well　now　as
ever？'

She　shook　her　head。　　'I　feel　almost　sure　I　am　going　to　die；　and　I
should　be　glad；　if　it　were　not　for　Nelly；　and　Frank；　and　Tiny。'

'And　me！'

'You'll　soon　find　somebody　to　fill　my　place；'　she　murmured；　with　a
sad　smile。　　'And　you'll　have　a　perfect　right　to；　I　assure　you　of
that。'

'Ell；　you　are　not　thinking　still　about　thatpoetical　friend　of
yours？'

She　neither　admitted　nor　denied　the　charge。　　'I　am　not　going　to　get
over　my　illness　this　time；'　she　reiterated。　　'Something　tells　me　I
shan't。'

This　view　of　things　was　rather　a　bad　beginning；　as　it　usually　is；
and；　in　fact；　six　weeks　later；　in　the　month　of　May；　she　was　lying　in
her　room；　pulseless　and　bloodless；　with　hardly　strength　enough　left
to　follow　up　one　feeble　breath　with　another；　the　infant　for　whose
unnecessary　life　she　was　slowly　parting　with　her　own　being　fat　and
well。　　Just　before　her　death　she　spoke　to　Marchmill　softly：…

'Will；　I　want　to　confess　to　you　the　entire　circumstances　of　that
about　you　know　whatthat　time　we　visited　Solentsea。　　I　can't　tell
what　possessed　mehow　I　could　forget　you　so；　my　husband！　　But　I　had
got　into　a　morbid　state：　　I　thought　you　had　been　unkind；　that　you
had　neglected　me；　that　you　weren't　up　to　my　intellectual　level；
while　he　was；　and　far　above　it。　　I　wanted　a　fuller　appreciator；
perhaps；　rather　than　another　lover'

She　could　get　no　further　then　for　very　exhaustion；　and　she　went　off
in　sudden　collapse　a　few　hours　later；　without　having　said　anything
more　to　her　husband　on　the　subject　of　her　love　for　the　poet。
William　Marchmill；　in　truth；　like　most　husbands　of　several　years'
standing；　was　little　disturbed　by　retrospective　jealousies；　and　had
not　shown　the　least　anxiety　to　press　her　for　confessions　concerning
a　man　dead　and　gone　beyond　any　power　of　inconveniencing　him　more。

But　when　she　had　been　buried　a　couple　of　years　it　chanced　one　day
that；　in　turning　over　some　forgotten　papers　that　he　wished　to
destroy　before　his　second　wife　entered　the　house；　he　lighted　on　a
lock　of　hair　in　an　envelope；　with　the　photograph　of　the　deceased
poet；　a　date　being　written　on　the　back　in　his　late　wife's　hand。　　It
was　that　of　the　time　they　spent　at　Solentsea。

Marchmill　looked　long　and　musingly　at　the　hair　and　portrait；　for
something　struck　him。　　Fetching　the　little　boy　who　had　been　the
death　of　his　mother；　now　a　noisy　toddler；　he　took　him　on　his　knee；
held　the　lock　of　hair　against　the　child's　head；　and　set　up　the
photograph　on　the　table　behind；　so　that　he　could　closely　compare　the
features　each　countenance　presented。　　There　were　undoubtedly　strong
traces　of　resemblance；　the　dreamy　and　peculiar　expression　of　the
poet's　face　sat；　as　the　transmitted　idea；　upon　the　child's；　and　the
hair　was　of　the　same　hue。

'I'm　damned　if　I　didn't　think　so！'　murmured　Marchmill。　　'Then　she
DID　play　me　false　with　that　fellow　at　the　lodgings！　　Let　me　see：
the　datesthe　second　week　in　August　。　。　。　the　third　week　in　May　。　。
。　Yes　。　。　。　yes　。　。　。　Get　away；　you　poor　little　brat！　　You　are
nothing　to　me！'

1893。




THE　THREE　STRANGERS




Among　the　few　features　of　agricultural　England　which　retain　an
appearance　but　little　modified　by　the　lapse　of　centuries；　may　be
reckoned　the　high；　grassy　and　furzy　downs；　coombs；　or　ewe…leases；　as
they　are　indifferently　called；　that　fill　a　large　area　of　certain
counties　in　the　south　and　south…west。　　If　any　mark　of　human
occupation　is　met　with　hereon；　it　usually　takes　the　form　of　the
solitary