weir of hermiston-第17部分

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could　not　follow　the　prayer；　not　even　the　heads　of　it。　　Brightnesses

of　azure；　clouds　of　fragrance；　a　tinkle　of　falling　water　and　singing

birds；　rose　like　exhalations　from　some　deeper；　aboriginal　memory；　that

was　not　his；　but　belonged　to　the　flesh　on　his　bones。　　His　body

remembered；　and　it　seemed　to　him　that　his　body　was　in　no　way　gross；　

but　ethereal　and　perishable　like　a　strain　of　music；　and　he　felt　for　it　

an　exquisite　tenderness　as　for　a　child；　an　innocent；　full　of　beautiful　

instincts　and　destined　to　an　early　death。　　And　he　felt　for　old　Torrance　

…　of　the　many　supplications；　of　the　few　days　…　a　pity　that　was　near　to　

tears。　　The　prayer　ended。　　Right　over　him　was　a　tablet　in　the　wall；　the　

only　ornament　in　the　roughly　masoned　chapel　…　for　it　was　no　more；　the　

tablet　commemorated；　I　was　about　to　say　the　virtues；　but　rather　the　

existence　of　a　former　Rutherford　of　Hermiston；　and　Archie；　under　that　

trophy　of　his　long　descent　and　local　greatness；　leaned　back　in　the　pew　

and　contemplated　vacancy　with　the　shadow　of　a　smile　between　playful　and　

sad；　that　became　him　strangely。　　Dandie's　sister；　sitting　by　the　side　of　

Clem　in　her　new　Glasgow　finery；　chose　that　moment　to　observe　the　young　

laird。　　Aware　of　the　stir　of　his　entrance；　the　little　formalist　had　kept　

her　eyes　fastened　and　her　face　prettily　composed　during　the　prayer。　　It　

was　not　hypocrisy；　there　was　no　one　further　from　a　hypocrite。　　The　girl　

had　been　taught　to　behave：　to　look　up；　to　look　down；　to　look　

unconscious；　to　look　seriously　impressed　in　church；　and　in　every　

conjuncture　to　look　her　best。　　That　was　the　game　of　female　life；　and　she　

played　it　frankly。　　Archie　was　the　one　person　in　church　who　was　of

interest；　who　was　somebody　new；　reputed　eccentric；　known　to　be　young；

and　a　laird；　and　still　unseen　by　Christina。　　Small　wonder　that；　as

she　stood　there　in　her　attitude　of　pretty　decency；　her　mind　should　run

upon　him！　　If　he　spared　a　glance　in　her　direction；　he　should　know　she

was　a　well…behaved　young　lady　who　had　been　to　Glasgow。　　In　reason　he

must　admire　her　clothes；　and　it　was　possible　that　he　should　think　her

pretty。　　At　that　her　heart　beat　the　least　thing　in　the　world；　and　she

proceeded；　by　way　of　a　corrective；　to　call　up　and　dismiss　a　series　of

fancied　pictures　of　the　young　man　who　should　now；　by　rights；　be　looking

at　her。　　She　settled　on　the　plainest　of　them；　…　a　pink　short　young　man

with　a　dish　face　and　no　figure；　at　whose　admiration　she　could　afford　to

smile；　but　for　all　that；　the　consciousness　of　his　gaze　（which　was　really

fixed　on　Torrance　and　his　mittens）　kept　her　in　something　of　a　flutter

till　the　word　Amen。　　Even　then；　she　was　far　too　well…bred　to　gratify　her

curiosity　with　any　impatience。　　She　resumed　her　seat　languidly　…　this　was

a　Glasgow　touch　…　she　composed　her　dress；　rearranged　her　nosegay　of

primroses；　looked　first　in　front；　then　behind　upon　the　other　side；　and

at　last　allowed　her　eyes　to　move；　without　hurry；　in　the　direction　of

the　Hermiston　pew。　　For　a　moment；　they　were　riveted。　　Next　she　had

plucked　her　gaze　home　again　like　a　tame　bird　who　should　have　meditated

flight。　　Possibilities　crowded　on　her；　she　hung　over　the　future　and　grew

dizzy；　the　image　of　this　young　man；　slim；　graceful；　dark；　with　the

inscrutable　half…smile；　attracted　and　repelled　her　like　a　chasm。　　〃I

wonder；　will　I　have　met　my　fate？〃　she　thought；　and　her　heart　swelled。



Torrance　was　got　some　way　into　his　first　exposition；　positing　a　deep　

layer　of　texts　as　he　went　along；　laying　the　foundations　of　his　

discourse；　which　was　to　deal　with　a　nice　point　in　divinity；　before　

Archie　suffered　his　eyes　to　wander。　　They　fell　first　of　all　on　Clem；　

looking　insupportably　prosperous；　and　patronising　Torrance　with　the　

favour　of　a　modified　attention；　as　of　one　who　was　used　to　better　things　

in　Glasgow。　　Though　he　had　never　before　set　eyes　on　him；　Archie　had　no　

difficulty　in　identifying　him；　and　no　hesitation　in　pronouncing　him　

vulgar；　the　worst　of　the　family。　　Clem　was　leaning　lazily　forward　when　

Archie　first　saw　him。　　Presently　he　leaned　nonchalantly　back；　and　that　

deadly　instrument；　the　maiden；　was　suddenly　unmasked　in　profile。　　Though　

not　quite　in　the　front　of　the　fashion　（had　anybody　cared！）；　certain　

artful　Glasgow　mantua…makers；　and　her　own　inherent　taste；　had　arrayed　

her　to　great　advantage。　　Her　accoutrement　was；　indeed；　a　cause　of　heart…

burning；　and　almost　of　scandal；　in　that　infinitesimal　kirk　company。　　

Mrs。　Hob　had　said　her　say　at　Cauldstaneslap。　　〃Daft…like！〃　she　had　

pronounced　it。　　〃A　jaiket　that'll　no　meet！　　Whaur's　the　sense　of　a　

jaiket　that'll　no　button　upon　you；　if　it　should　come　to　be　weet？　　What　

do　ye　ca'　thir　things？　　Demmy　brokens；　d'ye　say？　　They'll　be　brokens　wi'　

a　vengeance　or　ye　can　win　back！　　Weel；　I　have　nae　thing　to　do　wi'　it　…　

it's　no　good　taste。〃　　Clem；　whose　purse　had　thus　metamorphosed　his　

sister；　and　who　was　not　insensible　to　the　advertisement；　had　come　to　the　

rescue　with　a　〃Hoot；　woman！　　What　do　you　ken　of　good　taste　that　has　

never　been　to　the　ceety？〃　　And　Hob；　looking　on　the　girl　with　pleased　

smiles；　as　she　timidly　displayed　her　finery　in　the　midst　of　the　dark　

kitchen；　had　thus　ended　the　dispute：　〃The　cutty　looks　weel；〃　he　had　

said；　〃and　it's　no　very　like　rain。　　Wear　them　the　day；　hizzie；　but　it's　

no　a　thing　to　make　a　practice　o'。〃　　In　the　breasts　of　her　rivals；　coming　

to　the　kirk　very　conscious　of　white　under…linen；　and　their　faces　

splendid　with　much　soap；　the　sight　of　the　toilet　had　raised　a　storm　of　

varying　emotion；　from　the　mere　unenvious　admiration　that　was　expressed　

in　a　long…drawn　〃Eh！〃　to　the　angrier　feeling　that　found　vent　in　an　

emphatic　〃Set　her　up！〃　　Her　frock　was　of　straw…coloured　jaconet　muslin；　

cut　low　at　the　bosom　and　short　at　the　ankle；　so　as　to　display　her　DEMI…

BROQUINS　of　Regency　violet；　crossing　with　many　straps　upon　a　yellow　

cobweb　stocking。　　According　to　the　pretty　fashion　in　which　our　

grandmothers　did　not　hesitate　to　appear；　and　our　great…aunts　went　forth　

armed　for　the　pursuit　and　capture　of　our　great…uncles；　the　dress　was　

drawn　up　so　as　to　mould　the　contour　of　both　breasts；　and　in　the　nook　

between；　a　cairngorm　brooch　maintained　it。　　Here；　too；　surely　in　a　very　

enviable　position；　trembled　the　nosegay　of　primroses。　　She　wore　on　her　

shoulders　…　or　rather　on　her　back　and　not　her　shoulders；　which　it　

scarcely　passed　…　a　French　coat　of　sarsenet；　tied　in　front　with　Margate　

braces；　and　of　the　same　colour　with　her　violet　shoes。　　About　her　face　

clustered　a　disorder　of　dark　ringlets；　a　little　garland　of　yellow　French　

roses　surmounted　her　brow；　and　the　whole　was　crowned　by　a　village　hat　of　

chipped　straw。　　Amongst　all　the　rosy　and　all　the　weathered　faces　that　

surrounded　her　in　church；　she　glowed　like　an　open　flower　…　girl　and　

raiment；　and　the　cairngorm　that　caught　the　daylight　and　returned　it　in　a　

fiery　flash；　and　the　threads　of　bronze　and　gold　that　played　in　her　hair。



Archie　was　attracted　by　the　bright　thing　like　a　child。　　He　looked　at　her　

again　and　yet　again；　and　their　looks　crossed。　　The　lip　was　lifted　from　

her　little　teeth。　　He　saw　the　red　blood　work　vividly　under　her　tawny　

skin。　　Her　eye；　which　was　great　as　a　stag's；　struck　and　held　his　gaze。　　

He　knew　who　she　must　be　…　Kirstie；　she　of　the　harsh　diminutive；　his　

housekeeper's　niece；　the　sister　of　the　rustic　prophet；　Gib　…　and　he　

found　in　her　the　answer　to　his　wishes。



Christina　felt　the　shock　of　their　encountering　glances；　and　seemed　to　

rise；　clothed　in　smiles；　into　a　region　of　the　vague　and　bright。　　But　the　

gratification　was　not　more　exquisite　than　it　was　brief。　　She　looked　away　

abruptly；　and　immediately　began　to　blame　herself　for　that　abruptness。　　

She　knew　what　she　should　have　done；　too　late　…　turned　slowly　with　her　

nose　in　the　air。　　And　meantime　his　look　was　not　removed；　but　continued　

to　play　upon　her　like　a　battery　of　cannon　constantly　aimed；　and　now　

seemed　to　isolate　her　alone　with　him；　and　now　seemed　to　uplift　her；　as　

on　a　pillory；　before　the　congregation。　　For　Archie　continued　to　drink　

her　in　with　his　eyes；　even　as　a　wayfarer　comes　to　a　well…head　on　a　

mountain；　and　stoops　his　face；　and　drinks　with　thirst　unassuageable。　　In　

the　cleft　of　her　little　breasts　the　fiery　eye　of　the　topaz　and　the　pale　

florets　of　primrose　fascinated　him。　　He　saw　the　breasts　heave；　and　the　

flowers　shake　with　the　heaving；　and　marvelled　what　should　so　much　

discompose　the　girl。　　And　Christina　was　conscious　of　his　gaze　…　saw　it；　

perhaps；　with　the　dainty　plaything　of　an　ear　that　peeped　among　her　

ringlets；　she　was　conscious　of　changing　colour；　conscious　of　her　

unsteady　breath。　　Like　a　creature　tracked；　run　down；　surrounded；　she　

sought　in　a　dozen　ways　to　give　herself　a　countenance。　　She　used　her　

handkerchief　…　it　was　a　really　fine　one　…　then　she　desisted　in　a　panic：　

〃He　would　only　think　I　was　too　warm。〃　　She　took　to　reading　in　the　

metrical　psalms；　and　then　remembered　it　was　sermon…tim