we two-第16部分

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yly。

〃The　'David　Copperfield'　is　for　monsieur's　present　tomorrow；〃　she　said；　laughingly。　　〃I　knew　he　was　too　lazy　to　read　it　in　English；　so　I　got　him　a　translation。〃

〃My　dear；〃　said　madame；　taking　her　hand；　〃try　to　be　quiet　a　moment。　　II　have　something　to　tell　you。　　My　poor　little　one；　monsieur　your　father　is　arrived〃

〃Father！　　Father　here！〃　exclaimed　Erica；　in　a　transport　of　delight。　　〃Where　is　he；　where？　　Oh；　madame；　why　didn't　you　tell　me　sooner？〃

Mme。　Lemercier　tried　in　vain　to　detain　her；　as　with　cheeks　all　glowing　with　happiness　and　dancing　eyes；　she　ran　at　full　speed　to　the　salon。

〃Father！〃　she　cried；　throwing　open　the　door　and　running　to　meet　him。　　Then　suddenly　she　stood　quite　still　as　if　petrified。

Beside　the　crackling　wood　fire；　his　arms　on　the　chimney　piece；　his　face　hidden；　stood　a　gray…haired　man。　　He　raised　himself　as　she　spoke。　　His　news　was　in　his　face；　it　was　written　all　too　plainly　there。

〃Father！〃　gasped　Erica　in　a　voice　which　seemed　altogether　different　from　the　first　exclamation；　almost　as　if　it　belonged　to　a　different　person。

Raeburn　took　her　in　his　arms。

〃My　childmy　poor　little　Eric！〃　he　said。

She　did　not　speak　a　word；　but　clung　to　him　as　though　to　keep　herself　from　falling。　　In　one　instant　it　seemed　as　though　her　whole　world　had　been　wrecked；　her　life　shattered。　　She　could　not　even　realize　that　her　father　was　still　left　to　her；　except　in　so　far　as　the　mere　bodily　support　was　concerned。　　He　was　strong；　she　clung　to　him　as　in　a　hurricane　she　would　have　clung　to　a　rock。

〃Say　it；〃　she　gasped；　after　a　timeless　silence；　perhaps　of　minutes；　perhaps　of　hours；　it　might　have　been　centuries　for　aught　she　knew。　　〃Say　it　in　words。〃

She　wanted　to　know　everything；　wanted　to　reduce　this　huge；　overwhelming　sorrow　to　something　intelligible。　　Surely　in　words　it　would　not　be　so　awfulso　limitless。

And　he　said　it；　speaking　in　a　low；　repressed　voice；　yet　very　tenderly；　as　if　she　had　been　a　little　child。　　She　made　a　great　effort　to　listen；　but　the　sentences　only　came　to　her　disjointedly　and　as　if　from　a　great　distance。　　It　had　been　very　suddena　two　hours'　illness；　no　very　great　suffering。　　He　had　been　lecturing　at　Birminghamhad　been　telegraphed　forhad　been　too　late。

Erica　made　a　desperate　effort　to　realize　it　all；　at　last　she　brought　down　the　measureless　agony　to　actual　words；　repeating　them　over　and　over　to　herself〃Mother　is　dead。〃

At　length　she　had　grasped　the　idea。　　Her　heart　seemed　to　die　within　her；　a　strange　blue　shade　passed　over　her　face；　her　limbs　stiffened。　　She　felt　her　father　carry　her　to　the　window；　was　perfectly　conscious　of　everything；　watched　as　in　a　dream；　while　he　wrenched　open　the　clumsy　fastening　of　the　casement；　heard　the　voices　in　the　street　below；　heard；　too；　in　the　distance　the　sound　of　church　bells；　was　vaguely　conscious　of　relief　as　the　cold　air　blew　upon　her。

She　was　lying　on　a　couch；　and；　if　left　to　herself；　might　have　lain　there　for　hours　in　that　strange　state　of　absolute　prostration。　　But　she　was　not　alone；　and　gradually　she　realized　it。　　Very　slowly　the　re…beginning　of　life　set　in；　the　consciousness　of　her　father's　presence　awakened　her；　as　it　were；　from　her　dream　of　unmitigated　pain。　　She　sat　up；　put　her　arms　round　his　neck；　and　kissed　him；　then　for　a　minute　let　her　aching　head　rest　on　his　shoulder。　　Presently；　　in　a　low　but　steady　voice；　she　said：　〃What　would　you　like　me　to　do；　father？〃

〃To　come　home　with　me　now；　if　you　are　able；〃　he　said；　〃tomorrow　morning；　though；　if　you　would　rather　wait；　dear。〃

But　the　idea　of　waiting　seemed　intolerable　to　her。　　The　very　sound　of　the　word　was　hateful。　　Had　she　not　waited　two　weary　years；　and　this　was　the　end　of　it　all？　　Any　action；　any　present　doing；　however　painful；　but　no　more　waiting。　　No　terrible　pause　in　which　more　thoughts　and；　therefore；　more　pain　might　grow。　　Outside　in　the　passage　they　met　Mme。　Lemercier；　and　presently　Erica　found　herself　surrounded　by　kind　helpers；　wondering　to　find　them　all　so　tearful　when　her　own　eyes　felt　so　hot　and　dry。　　They　were　very　good　to　her；　but；　separated　from　her　father；　her　sorrow　again　completely　overwhelmed　her；　she　could　not　then　feel　the　slightest　gratitude　to　them　or　the　slightest　comfort　from　their　sympathy。　　She　lay　motionless　on　her　little　white　bed；　her　eyes　fixed　on　the　wooden　cross　on　the　opposite　wall；　or　from　time　to　time　glancing　at　Fraulein　Sonnenthal；　who；　with　little　Ninette　to　help；　was　busily　packing　her　trunk。　　And　all　the　while　she　said　again　and　again　the　words　which　summed　up　her　sorrow：　〃Mother　is　dead！　　Mother　is　dead！〃

After　a　time　her　eyes　fell　on　her　elaborately　drawn　paper　of　days。　　Every　evening　since　her　first　arrival　she　had　gone　through　the　almost　religious　ceremony　of　marking　off　the　day；　it　had　often　been　a　great　consolation　to　her。　　The　paper　was　much　worn；　the　weeks　and　days　yet　to　be　marked　were　few　in　number。　　She　looked　at　it　now；　and　if　there　can　be　a　〃more〃　to　absolute　grief；　an　additional　pang　to　unmitigated　sorrow；　it　came　to　her　at　the　sight　of　that　visible　record　of　her　long　exile。　　She　snatched　down　the　paper　and　tore　it　to　pieces；　then　sunk　back　again；　pale　and　breathless。　　Fraulein　Sonnenthal　saw　and　understood。　　She　came　to　her；　and　kissed　her。

〃Herzbluttchen；〃　she　said；　almost　in　a　whisper；　and；　after　a　moment's　pause：　〃Ein　feste　Burg　ist　unser　Gott。〃

Erica　made　an　impatient　gesture；　and　turned　away　her　head。

〃Why　does　she　choose　this　time　of　all　others　to　tell　me　so；〃　she　thought　to　herself。　　〃Now；　when　I　can't　argue　or　even　think！　　A　sure　tower！　　Could　a　delusion　make　one　feel　that　anything　is　sure　but　death　at　such　a　time　as　this！　　Everything　is　goneor　going。　　Mother　is　dead！mother　is　dead！　　Yet　she　meant　to　be　kind；　poor　Thekla；　she　didn't　know　it　would　hurt。〃

Mme。　Lemercier　came　into　the　room　with　a　cup　of　coffee　and　a　brioche。

〃You　have　a　long　journey　before　you；　my　little　one；〃　she　said；　〃you　must　take　this　before　you　start。〃

Yes；　there　was　the　journey；　that　was　a　comfort。　　There　was　something　to　be　done；　something　hard　and　tiringsurely　it　would　blunt　her　perceptions。　　She　started　up　with　a　strange　sort　of　energy；　put　on　her　hat　and　cloak；　swallowed　the　food　with　an　effort；　helped　to　lock　her　trunk；　moved　rapidly　about　the　room；　looking　for　any　chance　possession　which　might　have　been　left　out。　　There　was　such　terrible　anguish　in　her　tearless　eyes　that　little　Ninette　shrunk　away　from　her　in　alarm。　　Mme。　Lemercier；　who　in　the　time　of　the　siege　had　seen　great　suffering；　had　never　seen　anything　like　this；　even　Thekla　Sonnenthal　realized　that　for　the　time　she　was　beyond　the　reach　of　human　comfort。

Before　long　the　farewells　were　over。　　Erica　was　once　more　alone　with　her　father；　her　cheeks　wet　with　the　tears　of　others；　her　own　eyes　still　hot　and　dry。　　They　were　to　catch　the　four　o'clock　train；　the　afternoon　was　dark；　and　already　the　streets　and　shops　were　lighted；　Paris；　ever　bright　and　gay；　seemed　tonight　brighter　and　gayer　than　ever。　　She　watched　the　placid…looking　passengers；　the　idle　loungers　at　the　cafes；　did　they　know　what　pain　was？　　Did　they　know　that　death　was　sure？　　Presently　she　found　herself　in　a　second…class　carriage；　wedged　in　between　her　father　and　a　heavy…　featured　priest；　who　diligently　read　a　little　dogs…eared　breviary。　　Opposite　was　a　meek；　weasel…faced　bourgeois；　with　a　managing　wife；　who　ordered　him　about；　then　came　a　bushy…whiskered　Englishman　and　a　newly　married　couple；　while　in　the　further　corner；　nearly　hidden　from　view　by　the　burly　priest；　lurked　a　gentle…looking　Sister　of　Mercy；　and　a　mischievous　and　fidgety　school　boy。　　She　watched　them　all　as　in　a　dream　of　pain。　　Presently　the　priest　left　off　muttering　and　began　to　snore；　and　sleep　fell；　too；　upon　the　occupants　of　the　opposite　seat。　　The　little　weasel…faced　man　looked　most　uncomfortable；　for　the　Englishman　used　him　as　a　prop　on　one　side　and　the　managing　wife　nearly　overwhelmed　him　on　the　other；　he　slept　fitfully；　and　always　with　the　air　of　a　martyr；　waking　up　every　few　minutes　and　vainly　trying　to　shake　off　his　burdens；　who　invariably　made　stifled　exclamations　and　sunk　back　again。

〃That　would　have　been　funny　once；〃　thought　Erica　to　herself。　　〃How　I　should　have　laughed。　　Shall　I　always　be　like　this　all　the　rest　of　my　life；　seeing　what　is　ludicrous；　yet　with　all　the　fun　taken　out　of　it？〃

But　her　brain　reeled　at　the　thought　of　the　〃rest　of　life。〃　　The　blank　of　bereavement；　terrible　to　all；　was　absolute　and　eternal　to　her；　and　this　was　her　first　great　sorrow。　　She　had　known　pain；　and　privation；　and　trouble　and　anxiety；　but　actual　anguish　never。　　Now　it　had　come　to　her　suddenly；　irrevocably；　never　to　be　either　more　or　less；　perhaps　to　be　fitted　on　as　a　garment　as　time　wore　on；　and　to　become　a　natural　part　of　her　life；　but　always　to　be　the　same；　a　blank　often　felt；　always　present；　till　at　length　her　end　came　and　she　too　passed　away　into　the　great　Silence。

Despairthe　deprivation　of　all　hopeis　sometimes　wild；　but　oftener　calm　with　a　deathly　calmness。　　Erica　was　absolutely　still　she　scarcely　moved　or　spoke　during　the　long　weary　journey　to　Calais。　　Twice　only　did　she　feel　the　slightest　desire　for　any　outward　vent。　　At　the　Amiens　station　the　school　boy　in　the　corner；　who　had　been　growing　more　restless　and　excited　every　hour；