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weir of hermiston-第20部分
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children to be shoo'd away。 Merely in his character of connoisseur;
however; Dandie glanced carelessly after his sister as she crossed the
meadow。 〃The brat's no that bad!〃 he thought with surprise; for though
he had just been paying her compliments; he had not really looked at
her。 〃Hey! what's yon?〃 For the grey dress was cut with short sleeves
and skirts; and displayed her trim strong legs clad in pink stockings of
the same shade as the kerchief she wore round her shoulders; and that
shimmered as she went。 This was not her way in undress; he knew her
ways and the ways of the whole sex in the country…side; no one better;
when they did not go barefoot; they wore stout 〃rig and furrow〃 woollen
hose of an invisible blue mostly; when they were not black outright; and
Dandie; at sight of this daintiness; put two and two together。 It was a
silk handkerchief; then they would be silken hose; they matched … then
the whole outfit was a present of Clem's; a costly present; and not
something to be worn through bog and briar; or on a late afternoon of
Sunday。 He whistled。 〃My denty May; either your heid's fair turned; or
there's some ongoings!〃 he observed; and dismissed the subject。
She went slowly at first; but ever straighter and faster for the
Cauldstaneslap; a pass among the hills to which the farm owed its name。
The Slap opened like a doorway between two rounded hillocks; and through
this ran the short cut to Hermiston。 Immediately on the other side it
went down through the Deil's Hags; a considerable marshy hollow of the
hill tops; full of springs; and crouching junipers; and pools where the
black peat…water slumbered。 There was no view from here。 A man might
have sat upon the Praying Weaver's stone a half century; and seen none
but the Cauldstaneslap children twice in the twenty…four hours on their
way to the school and back again; an occasional shepherd; the irruption
of a clan of sheep; or the birds who haunted about the springs; drinking
and shrilly piping。 So; when she had once passed the Slap; Kirstie was
received into seclusion。 She looked back a last time at the farm。 It
still lay deserted except for the figure of Dandie; who was now seen to
be scribbling in his lap; the hour of expected inspiration having come
to him at last。 Thence she passed rapidly through the morass; and came
to the farther end of it; where a sluggish burn discharges; and the path
for Hermiston accompanies it on the beginning of its downward path。
From this corner a wide view was opened to her of the whole stretch of
braes upon the other side; still sallow and in places rusty with the
winter; with the path marked boldly; here and there by the burn…side a
tuft of birches; and … two miles off as the crow flies … from its
enclosures and young plantations; the windows of Hermiston glittering in
the western sun。
Here she sat down and waited; and looked for a long time at these far…
away bright panes of glass。 It amused her to have so extended a view;
she thought。 It amused her to see the house of Hermiston … to see
〃folk〃; and there was an indistinguishable human unit; perhaps the
gardener; visibly sauntering on the gravel paths。
By the time the sun was down and all the easterly braes lay plunged in
clear shadow; she was aware of another figure coming up the path at a
most unequal rate of approach; now half running; now pausing and seeming
to hesitate。 She watched him at first with a total suspension of
thought。 She held her thought as a person holds his breathing。 Then
she consented to recognise him。 〃He'll no be coming here; he canna be;
it's no possible。〃 And there began to grow upon her a subdued choking
suspense。 He WAS coming; his hesitations had quite ceased; his step
grew firm and swift; no doubt remained; and the question loomed up
before her instant: what was she to do? It was all very well to say
that her brother was a laird himself: it was all very well to speak of
casual intermarriages and to count cousinship; like Auntie Kirstie。 The
difference in their social station was trenchant; propriety; prudence;
all that she had ever learned; all that she knew; bade her flee。 But on
the other hand the cup of life now offered to her was too enchanting。
For one moment; she saw the question clearly; and definitely made her
choice。 She stood up and showed herself an instant in the gap relieved
upon the sky line; and the next; fled trembling and sat down glowing
with excitement on the Weaver's stone。 She shut her eyes; seeking;
praying for composure。 Her hand shook in her lap; and her mind was full
of incongruous and futile speeches。 What was there to make a work
about? She could take care of herself; she supposed! There was no harm
in seeing the laird。 It was the best thing that could happen。 She
would mark a proper distance to him once and for all。 Gradually the
wheels of her nature ceased to go round so madly; and she sat in passive
expectation; a quiet; solitary figure in the midst of the grey moss。 I
have said she was no hypocrite; but here I am at fault。 She never
admitted to herself that she had come up the hill to look for Archie。
And perhaps after all she did not know; perhaps came as a stone falls。
For the steps of love in the young; and especially in girls; are
instinctive and unconscious。
In the meantime Archie was drawing rapidly near; and he at least was
consciously seeking her neighbourhood。 The afternoon had turned to
ashes in his mouth; the memory of the girl had kept him from reading and
drawn him as with cords; and at last; as the cool of the evening began
to come on; he had taken his hat and set forth; with a smothered
ejaculation; by the moor path to Cauldstaneslap。 He had no hope to find
her; he took the off chance without expectation of result and to relieve
his uneasiness。 The greater was his surprise; as he surmounted the
slope and came into the hollow of the Deil's Hags; to see there; like an
answer to his wishes; the little womanly figure in the grey dress and
the pink kerchief sitting little; and low; and lost; and acutely
solitary; in these desolate surroundings and on the weather…beaten stone
of the dead weaver。 Those things that still smacked of winter were all
rusty about her; and those things that already relished of the spring
had put forth the tender and lively colours of the season。 Even in the
unchanging face of the death…stone; changes were to be remarked; and in
the channeled lettering; the moss began to renew itself in jewels of
green。 By an afterthought that was a stroke of art; she had turned up
over her head the back of the kerchief; so that it now framed becomingly
her vivacious and yet pensive face。 Her feet were gathered under her on
the one side; and she leaned on her bare arm; which showed out strong
and round; tapered to a slim wrist; and shimmered in the fading light。
Young Hermiston was struck with a certain chill。 He was reminded that
he now dealt in serious matters of life and death。 This was a grown
woman he was approaching; endowed with her mysterious potencies and
attractions; the treasury of the continued race; and he was neither
better nor worse than the average of his sex and age。 He had a certain
delicacy which had preserved him hitherto unspotted; and which (had
either of them guessed it) made him a more dangerous companion when his
heart should be really stirred。 His throat was dry as he came near; but
the appealing sweetness of her smile stood between them like a guardian
angel。
For she turned to him and smiled; though without rising。 There was a
shade in this cavalier greeting that neither of them perceived; neither
he; who simply thought it gracious and charming as herself; nor yet she;
who did not observe (quick as she was) the difference between rising to
meet the laird; and remaining seated to receive the expected admirer。
〃Are ye stepping west; Hermiston?〃 said she; giving him his territorial
name after the fashion of the country…side。
〃I was;〃 said he; a little hoarsely; 〃but I think I will be about the
end of my stroll now。 Are you like me; Miss Christina? The house would
not hold me。 I came here seeking air。〃
He took his seat at the other end of the tombstone and studied her;
wondering what was she。 There was infinite import in the question alike
for her and him。
〃Ay;〃 she said。 〃I couldna bear the roof either。 It's a habit of mine
to come up here about the gloaming when it's quaiet and caller。〃
〃It was a habit of my mother's also;〃 he said gravely。 The recollection
half startled him as he expressed it。 He looked around。 〃I have scarce
been here since。 It's peaceful;〃 he said; with a long breath。
〃It's no like Glasgow;〃 she replied。 〃A weary place; yon Glasgow! But
what a day have I had for my
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