The Rainbow-虹(英文版)- 第7部分

〃You　can　see　for　yourself。　The　mother's　plain；　I　must
say……but　the　child　is　like　a　changeling。　She'd　be　about
thirty…five。〃

But　he　took　no　notice。　His　sister　talked　on。

〃There's　your　woman　for　you；〃　she　continued。　〃You'd　better
marry　her。〃　But　still　he　took　no　notice。　Things　were　as
they　were。

Another　day；　at　tea…time；　as　he　sat　alone　at　table；　there
came　a　knock　at　the　front　door。　It　startled　him　like　a　portent。
No　one　ever　knocked　at　the　front　door。　He　rose　and　began
slotting　back　the　bolts；　turning　the　big　key。　When　he　had　opened
the　door；　the　strange　woman　stood　on　the　threshold。

〃Can　you　give　me　a　pound　of　butter？〃　she　asked；　in　a　curious
detached　way　of　one　speaking　a　foreign　language。

He　tried　to　attend　to　her　question。　She　was　looking　at　him
questioningly。　But　underneath　the　question；　what　was　there；　in
her　very　standing　motionless；　which　affected　him？

He　stepped　aside　and　she　at　once　entered　the　house；　as　if　the
door　had　been　opened　to　admit　her。　That　startled　him。　It　was　the
custom　for　everybody　to　wait　on　the　doorstep　till　asked　inside。
He　went　into　the　kitchen　and　she　followed。

His　tea…things　were　spread　on　the　scrubbed　deal　table；　a　big
fire　was　burning；　a　dog　rose　from　the　hearth　and　went　to　her。
She　stood　motionless　just　inside　the　kitchen。

〃Tilly；〃　he　called　loudly；　〃have　we　got　any　butter？〃

The　stranger　stood　there　like　a　silence　in　her　black
cloak。

〃Eh？〃　came　the　shrill　cry　from　the　distance。

He　shouted　his　question　again。

〃We've　got　what's　on　t'　table；〃　answered　Tilly's　shrill　voice
out　of　the　dairy。

Brangwen　looked　at　the　table。　There　was　a　large　pat　of　butter
on　a　plate；　almost　a　pound。　It　was　round；　and　stamped　with
acorns　and　oak…leaves。

〃Can't　you　e　when　you're　wanted？〃　he　shouted。

〃Why；　what　d'you　want？〃　Tilly　protested；　as　she　came　peeking
inquisitively　through　the　other　door。

She　saw　the　strange　woman；　stared　at　her　with　cross…eyes；　but
said　nothing。

〃Haven't　we　any　butter？〃　asked　Brangwen　again；
impatiently；　as　if　he　could　mand　some　by　his　question。

〃I　tell　you　there's　what's　on　t'　table；〃　said　Tilly；
impatient　that　she　was　unable　to　create　any　to　his　demand。　〃We
haven't　a　morsel　besides。〃

There　was　a　moment's　silence。

The　stranger　spoke；　in　her　curiously　distinct；　detached
manner　of　one　who　must　think　her　speech　first。

〃Oh；　then　thank　you　very　much。　I　am　sorry　that　I　have　e　to
trouble　you。〃

She　could　not　understand　the　entire　lack　of　manners；　was
slightly　puzzled。　Any　politeness　would　have　made　the　situation
quite　impersonal。　But　here　it　was　a　case　of　wills　in　confusion。
Brangwen　flushed　at　her　polite　speech。　Still　he　did　not　let　her
go。

〃Get　summat　an'　wrap　that　up　for　her；〃　he　said　to
Tilly；　looking　at　the　butter　on　the　table。

And　taking　a　clean　knife；　he　cut　off　that　side　of　the　butter
where　it　was　touched。

His　speech；　the　〃for　her〃；　penetrated　slowly　into　the　foreign
woman　and　angered　Tilly。

〃Vicar　has　his　butter　fra　Brown's　by　rights；〃　said　the
insuppressible　servant…woman。　〃We　s'll　be　churnin'　to…morrow
mornin'　first　thing。〃

〃Yes〃……the　long…drawn　foreign　yes……〃yes；〃　said　the
Polish　woman；　〃I　went　to　Mrs。　Brown's。　She　hasn't　any　more。〃

Tilly　bridled　her　head；　bursting　to　say　that；　according　to
the　etiquette　of　people　who　bought　butter；　it　was　no　sort　of
manners　whatever　ing　to　a　place　cool　as　you　like　and　knocking
at　the　front　door　asking　for　a　pound　as　a　stop…gap　while　your
other　people　were　short。　If　you　go　to　Brown's　you　go　to　Brown's；
an'　my　butter　isn't　just　to　make　shift　when　Brown's　has　got
none。

Brangwen　understood　perfectly　this　unspoken　speech　of
Tilly's。　The　Polish　lady　did　not。　And　as　she　wanted　butter　for
the　vicar；　and　as　Tilly　was　churning　in　the　morning；　she
waited。

〃Sluther　up　now；〃　said　Brangwen　loudly　after　this　silence　had
resolved　itself　out；　and　Tilly　disappeared　through　the　inner
door。

〃I　am　afraid　that　I　should　not　e；　so；〃　said　the　stranger；
looking　at　him　enquiringly；　as　if　referring　to　him　for　what　it
was　usual　to　do。

He　felt　confused。

〃How's　that？〃　he　said；　trying　to　be　genial　and　being　only
protective。

〃Do　you？〃　she　began　deliberately。　But　she　was
not　sure　of　her　ground；　and　the　conversation　came　to　an　end。　Her
eyes　looked　at　him　all　the　while；　because　she　could　not　speak
the　language。

They　stood　facing　each　other。　The　dog　walked　away　from　her　to
him。　He　bent　down　to　it。

〃And　how's　your　little　girl？〃　he　asked。

〃Yes；　thank　you；　she　is　very　well；〃　was　the　reply；　a　phrase
of　polite　speech　in　a　foreign　language　merely。

〃Sit　you　down；〃　he　said。

And　she　sat　in　a　chair；　her　slim　arms；　ing　through　the
slits　of　her　cloak；　resting　on　her　lap。

〃You're　not　used　to　these　parts；〃　he　said；　still　standing　on
the　hearthrug　with　his　back　to　the　fire；　coatless；　looking　with
curious　directness　at　the　woman。　Her　self…possession　pleased　him
and　inspired　him；　set　him　curiously　free。　It　seemed　to　him
almost　brutal　to　feel　so　master　of　himself　and　of　the
situation。

Her　eyes　rested　on　him　for　a　moment；　questioning；　as　she
thought　of　the　meaning　of　his　speech。

〃No；〃　she　said；　understanding。　〃No……it　is　strange。〃

〃You　find　it　middlin'　rough？〃　he　said。

Her　eyes　waited　on　him；　so　that　he　should　say　it　again。

〃Our　ways　are　rough　to　you；〃　he　repeated。

〃Yes……yes；　I　understand。　Yes；　it　is　different；　it　is
strange。　But　I　was　in　Yorkshire〃

〃Oh；　well　then；〃　he　said；　〃it's　no　worse　here　than　what　they
are　up　there。〃

She　did　not　quite　understand。　His　protective　manner；　and　his
sureness；　and　his　intimacy；　puzzled　her。　What　did　he　mean？　If　he
was　her　equal；　why　did　he　behave　so　without　formality？

〃No〃　she　said；　vaguely；　her　eyes　resting　on
him。

She　saw　him　fresh　and　naive；　uncouth；　almost　entirely
beyond　relationship　with　her。　Yet　he　was　good…looking；　with　his
fair　hair　and　blue　eyes　full　of　energy；　and　with　his　healthy
body　that　seemed　to　take　equality　with　her。　She　watched　him
steadily。　He　was　difficult　for　her　to　understand；　warm；　uncouth；
and　confident　as　he　was；　sure　on　his　feet　as　if　he　did　not　know
what　it　was　to　be　unsure。　What　then　was　it　that　gave　him　this
curious　stability？

She　did　not　know。　She　wondered。　She　looked　round　the　room　he
lived　in。　It　had　a　close　intimacy　that　fascinated　and　almost
frightened　her。　The　furniture　was　old　and　familiar　as　old
people；　the　whole　place　seemed　so　kin　to　him；　as　if　it　partook
of　his　being；　that　she　was　uneasy。

〃It　is　already　a　long　time　that　you　have　lived　in　this
house……yes？〃　she　asked。

〃I've　always　lived　here；〃　he　said。

〃Yes……but　your　people……your　family？〃

〃We've　been　here　above　two　hundred　years；〃　he　said。　Her　eyes
were　on　him　all　the　time；　wide…open　and　trying　to　grasp　him。　He
felt　that　he　was　there　for　her。

〃It　is　your　own　place；　the　house；　the
farm？〃

〃Yes；〃　he　said。　He　looked　down　at　her　and　met　her　look。　It
disturbed　her。　She　did　not　know　him。　He　was　a　foreigner；　they
had　nothing　to　do　with　each　other。　Yet　his　look　disturbed　her　to
knowledge　of　him。　He　was　so　strangely　confident　and　direct。

〃You　live　quite　alone？〃

〃Yes……if　you　call　it　alone？〃

She　did　not　understand。　It　seemed　unusual　to　her。　What　was
the　meaning　of　it？

And　whenever　her　eyes；　after　watching　him　for　some　time；
inevitably　met　his；　she　was　aware　of　a　heat　beating　up　over　her
consciousness。　She　sat　motionless　and　in　conflict。　Who　was　this
strange　man　who　was　at　once　so　near　to　her？　What　was　happening
to　her？　Something　in　his　young；　warm…twinkling　eyes　seemed　to
assume　a　right　to　her；　to　speak　to　her；　to　extend　her　his
protection。　But　how？　Why　did　he　speak　to　her？　Why　were　his　eyes
so　certain；　so　full　of　light　and　confident；　waiting　for　no
permission　nor　signal？

Tilly　returned　with　a　large　leaf　and　found　the　two　silent。　At
once　he　felt　it　incumbent　on　him　to　speak；　now　the　serving…woman
had　e　back。

〃How　old　is　your　little　girl？〃　he　asked。

〃Four　years；〃　she　replied。

〃Her　father　hasn't　been　dead　long；　then？〃　he　asked。

〃She　was　one　year　when　he　died。〃

〃Three　years？〃

〃Yes；　three　years　that　he　is　dead……yes。〃

Curiously　quiet　she　was；　almost　abstracted；　answering　these
questions。　She　looked　at　him　again；　with　some　maidenhood　opening
in　her　eyes。　He　felt　he　could　not　move；　neither　towards　her　nor
away　from　her。　Something　about　her　presence　hurt　him；　till　he
was　almost　rigid　before　her。　He　saw　the　girl's　wondering　look
rise　in　her　eyes。

Tilly　handed　her　the　butter　and　she　rose。

〃Thank　you　very　much；〃　she　said。　〃How　much　is　it？〃

〃We'll　make　th'　vicar　a　present　of　it；〃　he　said。　〃It'll　do
for　me　goin'　to　church。〃

〃It　'ud　look　better　of　you　if　you　went　to　church　and　took　th'
money　for　your　butter；〃　said　Tilly；　persistent　in　her　claim　to
him。

〃You'd　have　to　put　in；　shouldn't　you？〃　he　said。

〃How　much；　please？〃　said　the　Polish　woman　to　Tilly。　Brangwen
stood　by　and　let　be。

〃Then；　thank　you　very　much；〃　she　said。

〃Bring　your　little　girl　down　sometime　to　look　at　th'　fowls
and　horses；〃　he　said；……〃if　she'd　like　it。〃

〃Yes；　she　would　like　it；〃　said　the　stranger。

And　she　went。　Brangwen　stood　dimmed　by　her　departure。　He
could　not　notice　Tilly；　who　was　looking　at　him　uneasily；　wanting
to　be　reassured。　He　could　not　think　of　anything。　He　felt　that　he
had　made　some　invisible　connection　with　the　strange　woman。

A　daze　had　e　over　his　mind；　he　had　another　centre　of
consciousness。　In　his　breast；　or　in　his　bowels；　somewhere　in　his
body；　there　had　started　another　activity。　It　was　as　if　a　strong
light　were　burning　there；　and　he　was　blind　within　it；　unable　to
know　anything；　except　that　this　transfiguration　burned　between
him　and　her；　connecting　them；　like　a　secret　power。

Since　she　had　e　to　the　house　he　went　about　in　a　daze；
scarcely　seeing　even　the　things　he　handled；　drifting；　quiescent；
in　a　state　of　metamorphosis。　He　submitted　to　that　which　was
happening　to　him；　letting　go　his　will；　suffering　the　loss　of
himself；　dormant　always　on　the　brink　of　ecstasy；　like　a　creature
evolving　to　a　new　birth。

She　came　twice　with　her　child　to　the　farm；　but　there　was　this
lull　between　them；　an　intense　calm　and　passivity　like　a　torpor
upon　them；　so　that　there　was　no　active　change　took　place。　He　was
a