half a life-time ago-第12章

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were；　for　they　came　straight　from　a　rock　not　a　quarter　of　a　mile　from

Yew　Nook；　but　only　to　be　reached；　on　account　of　its　precipitous

character；　by　a　round…about　path。　　Thither　she　steered；　defying　wind

and　snow；　guided　by　here　a　thorn…tree；　there　an　old；　doddered　oak；

which　had　not　quite　lest　their　identity　under　the　whelming　mask　of

snow。　　Now　and　then　she　stopped　to　listen；　but　never　a　word　or　sound

heard　she；　till　right　from　where　the　copse…wood　grew　thick　and

tangled　at　the　base　of　the　rock；　round　which　she　was　winding；　she

heard　a　moan。　　Into　the　brakeall　snow　in　appearancealmost　a　plain

of　snow　looked　on　from　the　little　eminence　where　she　stoodshe

plunged；　breaking　down　the　bush；　stumbling；　bruising　herself；

fighting　her　way；　her　lantern　held　between　her　teeth；　and　she　herself

using　head　as　well　as　hands　to　butt　away　a　passage；　at　whatever　cost

of　bodily　injury。　　As　she　climbed　or　staggered；　owing　to　the

unevenness　of　the　snow…covered　ground；　where　the　briars　and　weeds　of

years　were　tangled　and　matted　together；　her　foot　felt　something

strangely　soft　and　yielding。　　She　lowered　her　lantern；　there　lay　a

man；　prone　on　his　face；　nearly　covered　by　the　fast…falling　flakes；　he

must　have　fallen　from　the　rock　above；　as；　not　knowing　of　the

circuitous　path；　he　had　tried　to　descend　its　steep；　slippery　face。

Who　could　tell？　it　was　no　time　for　thinking。　　Susan　lifted　him　up

with　her　wiry　strength；　he　gave　no　helpno　sign　of　life；　but　for　all

that　he　might　be　alive：　　he　was　still　warm；　she　tied　her　maud　round

him；　she　fastened　the　lantern　to　her　apron…string；　she　held　him

tight：　　half…carrying；　half…draggingwhat　did　a　few　bruises　signify

to　him；　compared　to　dear　life；　to　precious　life！　　She　got　him　through

the　brake；　and　down　the　path。　　There；　for　an　instant；　she　stopped　to

take　breath；　but；　as　if　stung　by　the　Furies；　she　pushed　on　again　with

almost　superhuman　strength。　　Clasping　him　round　the　waist；　and

leaning　his　dead　weight　against　the　lintel　of　the　door；　she　tried　to

undo　the　latch；　but　now；　just　at　this　moment；　a　trembling　faintness

came　over　her；　and　a　fearful　dread　took　possession　of　herthat　here；

on　the　very　threshold　of　her　home；　she　might　be　found　dead；　and

buried　under　the　snow；　when　the　farm…servants　came　in　the　morning。

This　terror　stirred　her　up　to　one　more　effort。　　Then　she　and　her

companion　were　in　the　warmth　of　the　quiet　haven　of　that　kitchen；　she

laid　him　on　the　settle；　and　sank　on　the　floor　by　his　side。　　How　long

she　remained　in　this　swoon　she　could　not　tell；　not　very　long　she

judged　by　the　fire；　which　was　still　red　and　sullenly　glowing　when　she

came　to　herself。　　She　lighted　the　candle；　and　bent　over　her　late

burden　to　ascertain　if　indeed　he　were　dead。　　She　stood　long　gazing。

The　man　lay　dead。　　There　could　be　no　doubt　about　it。　　His　filmy　eyes

glared　at　her；　unshut。　　But　Susan　was　not　one　to　be　affrighted　by　the

stony　aspect　of　death。　　It　was　not　that；　it　was　the　bitter；　woeful

recognition　of　Michael　Hurst！



She　was　convinced　he　was　dead；　but　after　a　while　she　refused　to

believe　in　her　conviction。　　She　stripped　off　his　wet　outer…garments

with　trembling；　hurried　hands。　　She　brought　a　blanket　down　from　her

own　bed；　she　made　up　the　fire。　　She　swathed　him　in　fresh；　warm

wrappings；　and　laid　him　on　the　flags　before　the　fire；　sitting　herself

at　his　head；　and　holding　it　in　her　lap；　while　she　tenderly　wiped　his

loose；　wet　hair；　curly　still；　although　its　colour　had　changed　from

nut…brown　to　iron…gray　since　she　had　seen　it　last。　　From　time　to　time

she　bent　over　the　face　afresh；　sick；　and　fain　to　believe　that　the

flicker　of　the　fire…light　was　some　slight　convulsive　motion。　　But　the

dim；　staring　eyes　struck　chill　to　her　heart。　　At　last　she　ceased　her

delicate；　busy　cares：　　but　she　still　held　the　head　softly；　as　if

caressing　it。　　She　thought　over　all　the　possibilities　and　chances　in

the　mingled　yarn　of　their　lives　that　might；　by　so　slight　a　turn；　have

ended　far　otherwise。　　If　her　mother's　cold　had　been　early　tended；　so

that　the　responsibility　as　to　her　brother's　weal　or　woe　had　not

fallen　upon　her；　if　the　fever　had　not　taken　such　rough；　cruel　hold　on

Will；　nay；　if　Mrs。　Gale；　that　hard；　worldly　sister；　had　not

accompanied　him　on　his　last　visit　to　Yew　Nookhis　very　last　before

this　fatal；　stormy　might；　if　she　had　heard　his　cry；cry　uttered　by

these　pale；　dead　lips　with　such　wild；　despairing　agony；　not　yet　three

hours　ago！O！　if　she　had　but　heard　it　sooner；　he　might　have　been

saved　before　that　blind；　false　step　had　precipitated　him　down　the

rock！　　In　going　over　this　weary　chain　of　unrealized　possibilities；

Susan　learnt　the　force　of　Peggy's　words。　　Life　was　short；　looking

back　upon　it。　　It　seemed　but　yesterday　since　all　the　love　of　her

being　had　been　poured　out；　and　run　to　waste。　　The　intervening　years

the　long　monotonous　years　that　had　turned　her　into　an　old　woman

before　her　timewere　but　a　dream。



The　labourers　coming　in　the　dawn　of　the　winter's　day　were　surprised

to　see　the　fire…light　through　the　low　kitchen…window。　　They　knocked；

and　hearing　a　moaning　answer；　they　entered；　fearing　that　something

had　befallen　their　mistress。　　For　all　explanation　they　got　these

words



〃It　is　Michael　Hurst。　　He　was　belated；　and　fell　down　the　Raven's

Crag。　　Where　does　Eleanor；　his　wife；　live？〃



How　Michael　Hurst　got　to　Yew　Nook　no　one　but　Susan　ever　knew。　　They

thought　he　had　dragged　himself　there；　with　some　sore　internal　bruise

sapping　away　his　minuted　life。　　They　could　not　have　believed　the

superhuman　exertion　which　had　first　sought　him　out；　and　then　dragged

him　hither。　　Only　Susan　knew　of　that。



She　gave　him　into　the　charge　of　her　servants；　and　went　out　and

saddled　her　horse。　　Where　the　wind　had　drifted　the　snow　on　one　side；

and　the　road　was　clear　and　bare；　she　rode；　and　rode　fast；　where　the

soft；　deceitful　heaps　were　massed　up；　she　dismounted　and　led　her

steed；　plunging　in　deep；　with　fierce　energy；　the　pain　at　her　heart

urging　her　onwards　with　a　sharp；　digging　spur。



The　gray；　solemn；　winter's　noon　was　more　night…like　than　the　depth　of

summer's　night；　dim…purple　brooded　the　low　skies　over　the　white

earth；　as　Susan　rode　up　to　what　had　been　Michael　Hurst's　abode　while

living。　　It　was　a　small　farm…house　carelessly　kept　outside；

slatternly　tended　within。　　The　pretty　Nelly　Hebthwaite　was　pretty

still；　her　delicate　face　had　never　suffered　from　any　long…enduring

feeling。　　If　anything；　its　expression　was　that　of　plaintive　sorrow；

but　the　soft；　light　hair　had　scarcely　a　tinge　of　gray；　the　wood…rose

tint　of　complexion　yet　remained；　if　not　so　brilliant　as　in　youth；　the

straight　nose；　the　small　mouth　were　untouched　by　time。　　Susan　felt

the　contrast　even　at　that　moment。　　She　knew　that　her　own　skin　was

weather…beaten；　furrowed；　brown；that　her　teeth　were　gone；　and　her

hair　gray　and　ragged。　　And　yet　she　was　not　two　years　older　than

Nelly；she　had　not　been；　in　youth；　when　she　took　account　of　these

things。　　Nelly　stood　wondering　at　the　strange…enough　horse…woman；　who

stopped　and　panted　at　the　door；　holding　her　horse's　bridle；　and

refusing　to　enter。



〃Where　is　Michael　Hurst？〃　asked　Susan；　at　last。



〃Well；　I　can't　rightly　say。　　He　should　have　been　at　home　last　night；

but　he　was　off；　seeing　after　a　public…house　to　be　let　at　Ulverstone；

for　our　farm　does　not　answer；　and　we　were　thinking〃



〃He　did　not　come　home　last　night？〃　said　Susan；　cutting　short　the

story；　and　half…affirming；　half…questioning；　by　way　of　letting　in　a

ray　of　the　awful　light　before　she　let　it　full　in；　in　its　consuming

wrath。



〃No！　he'll　be　stopping　somewhere　out　Ulverstone　ways。　　I'm　sure　we've

need　of　him　at　home；　for　I've　no　one　but　lile　Tommy　to　help　me　tend

the　beasts。　　Things　have　not　gone　well　with　us；　and　we　don't　keep　a

servant　now。　　But　you're　trembling　all　over；　ma'am。　　You'd　better

come　in；　and　take　something　warm；　while　your　horse　rests。　　That's　the

stable…door；　to　your　left。〃



Susan　took　her　horse　there；　l