Добавил:
ivanov666
Опубликованный материал нарушает ваши авторские права? Сообщите нам.
Вуз:
Предмет:
Файл:The White Peacock
.pdf
THE WHITE PEACOCK
“We’re cousins –”
“If you want her, I suppose you won’t let that hinder you.
She’ll have a nice bit of money, and if you like her –”
“I like her all right – I shan’t go out to Canada with her
though. I shall stay at the Ram – for the sake of the life.”
“It’s a poor life, that!” said the father, ruminating.
George laughed. “A bit mucky!” he said – “But it’ll do. It
would need Cyril or Lettie to keep me alive in Canada.”
It was a bold stroke – everybody was embarrassed.
“Well,” said the father, “I suppose we can’t have everything
we want – we generally have to put up with the next best
thing – don’t we, Lettie?” – he laughed. Lettie fl ushed furiously.
“I don’t know,” she said. “You can generally get what you
want if you want it badly enough. Of course – if you don’t
mind –”
She rose and went across to Sam.
He was playing with the kittens. One was patting and cuffing his bare toe, which had poked through his stocking. He
pushed and teased the little scamp with his toe till it rushed
at him, clinging, tickling, biting till he gave little bubbles of
laughter, quite forgetful of us. Then the kitten was tired, and
ran off. Lettie shook her skirts, and directly the two playful
mites rushed upon it, darting round her, rolling head over
heels, and swinging from the soft cloth. Suddenly becoming
aware that they felt tired, the young things trotted away and
cuddled together by the fender, where in an instant they were
asleep. Almost as suddenly, Sam sank into drowsiness.
“He’d better go to bed,” said the father.
281
DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
“Put him in my bed,” said George. “David would wonder
what had happened.”
“Will you go to bed, Sam?” asked Emily, holding out her
arms to him, and immediately startling him by the terrible
gentleness of her persuasion. He retreated behind Lettie.
“Come along,” said the latter, and she quickly took him
and undressed him. Then she picked him up, and his bare legs
hung down in front of her. His head drooped drowsily on to
her shoulder, against her neck.
She put down her face to touch the loose riot of his ruddy
hair. She stood so, quiet, still and wistful, for a few moments;
perhaps she was vaguely aware that the attitude was beautiful
for her, and irresistibly appealing to George, who loved, above
all in her, her delicate dignity of tenderness. Emily waited with
the lighted candle for her some moments.
When she came down there was a softness about her.
“Now,” said I to myself, “if George asks her again he is wise.”
“He is asleep,” she said quietly.
“I’m thinking we might as well let him stop while we’re
here, should we, George?” said the father.
“Eh?”
“We’ll keep him here while we are here –”
“Oh – the lad! I should. Yes – he’d be better here than up
yonder.”
“Ah, yes – ever so much. It is good of you,” said Lettie. “Oh,
he’ll make no difference,” said the father.
“Not a bit,” added George.
“What about his mother?” asked Lettie.
282
THE WHITE PEACOCK
“I’ll call and tell her in the morning,” said George. “Yes,”
she said, “call and tell her.”
Then she put on her things to go. He also put on his cap.
“Are you coming a little way, Emily?” I asked.
She ran, laughing, with bright eyes as we went out into the
darkness.
We waited for them at the wood gate. We all lingered, not
knowing what to say. Lettie said fi nally:
“Well – it’s no good – the grass is wet – Good night –
Good night, Emily.”
“Good night,” he said, with regret and hesitation, and a trifl e of impatience in his voice and his manner. He lingered still
a moments; she hesitated – then she struck off sharply.
“He has not asked her, the idiot!” I said to myself.
“Really,” she said bitterly, when we were going up the garden path, “you think rather quiet folks have a lot in them, but
it’s only stupidity – they are mostly fools.”
CHAPTER V
AN ARROW
FROM THE IMPATIENT GOD
On an afternoon three or four days after the recovery of
Sam. matters became complicated. George, as usual, discovered
that he had been dawdling in the portals of his desires, when
the doors came to with a bang. Then he hastened to knock.
“Tell her,” he said, “I will come up tomorrow after milking – tell her I’m coming to see her.”
On the evening of that morrow, the fi rst person to put in
an appearance was a garrulous spinster who had called ostensibly to enquire into the absence of the family from church:
“I said to Elizabeth, ‘Now what a thing if anything happens to
them just now, and the wedding is put off.’ I felt I must come
and make myself sure – that nothing had happened. We all
feel so interested in Lettie just now. I’m sure everybody is talking of her, she seems in the air. – I really think we shall have
thunder: I hope we shan’t. – Yes, we are all so glad that Mr
Tempest is content with a wife from at home – the others, his
father and Mr Robert and the rest – they were none of them
to be suited at home, though to be sure the wives they brought
were nothing – indeed they were not – as many a one said –
Mrs Robert was a paltry choice – neither in looks or manner
284
THE WHITE PEACOCK
had she anything to boast of – if her family was older than
mine. Family wasn’t much to make up for what she lacked in
other things, that I could easily have supplied her with; and,
oh, dear, what an object she is now, with her wisp of hair and
her spectacles! She for one hasn’t kept much of her youth. But
when is the exact date, dear? – Some say this and some that,
but as I always say, I never trust a ‘they say’. It is so nice that
you have that cousin a canon to come down for the service,
Mrs Beardsall, and Sir Walter Houghton for the groom’s man!
What? – You don’t think so – oh, but I know, dear, I know;
you do like to treasure up these secrets, don’t you; you are
greedy for all the good things just now.”
She shook her head at Lettie, and the jet ornaments on her
bonnet twittered like a thousand wagging little tongues. Then
she sighed, and was about to recommence her song, when she
happened to turn her head and to espy a telegraph-boy coming up the path.
“Oh, I hope nothing is wrong, dear – I hope nothing is
wrong! I always feel so terrifi ed of a telegram. You’d better not
open it yourself, dear – don’t now – let your brother go.”
Lettie, who had turned pale, hurried to the door. The sky
was very dark – there was a mutter of thunder.
“It’s all right,” said Lettie, trembling, “it’s only to say he’s
coming tonight.”
“I’m very thankful, very thankful,” cried the spinster. “It
might have been so much worse. I’m sure I never open a telegram without feeling as if I was opening a death-blow. I’m so
glad, dear; it must have upset you. What news to take back to
the village, supposing something had happened!” she sighed
285
DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
again, and the jet drops twinkled ominously in the thunder
light, as if declaring they would make something of it yet.
It was six o’clock. The air relaxed a little, and the thunder
was silent. George would be coming about seven; and the spinster showed no signs of departure; and Leslie might arrive at
any moment. Lettie fretted and fi dgeted, and the old woman
gabbled on. I looked out of the window at the water and the
sky.
The day had been uncertain. In the morning it was warm,
and the sunshine had played and raced among the cloud-shadows on the hills. Later, great cloud masses had stalked up from
the north-west and crowded thick across the sky; in this little
night, sleet and wind, and rain whirled furiously. Then the sky
had laughed at us again. In the sunshine came the spinster. But
as she talked, over the hill-top rose the wide forehead of the
cloud, rearing slowly, ominously higher. A fi rst messenger of
storm passed darkly over the sky, leaving the way clear again.
“I will go round to Highclose,” said Lettie. “I am sure it will
be stormy again. Are you coming down the road, Miss Slaighter, or do you mind if I leave you?”
“I will go, dear, if you think there is going to be another
storm – I dread it so. Perhaps I had better wait –”
“Oh, it will not come over for an hour, I am sure. We read
the weather well out here, don’t we, Cyril? You’ll come with
me, won’t you?”
We three set off, the gossip leaning on her toes, tripping
between us. She was much gratifi ed by Lettie’s information
concerning the proposals for the new home. We left her in
a glow of congratulatory smiles on the highway. But the clouds
286
THE WHITE PEACOCK
had upreared, and stretched in two great arms, reaching overhead. The little spinster hurried along, but the black hands of
the clouds kept pace and clutched her. A sudden gust of wind
shuddered in the trees, and rushed upon her cloak, blowing
its bugles.
An icy raindrop smote into her cheek. She hurried on,
praying fervently for her bonnet’s sake that she might reach
Widow Harriman’s cottage before the burst came. But the
thunder crashed in her ear, and a host of hailstones fl ew at her.
In despair and anguish she fl ed from under the ash trees; she
reached the widow’s garden gate, when out leapt the lightning
full at her. “Put me in the stair-hole!” she cried. “Where is the
stair-hole?”
Glancing wildly round, she saw a ghost. It was the refl ection of the sainted spinster, Hilda Slaighter, in the widow’s
mirror; a refl ection with a bonnet fallen backwards, and to it
attached a thick rope of grey-brown hair. The author of the
ghost instinctively twisted to look at the back of her head. She
saw some ends of grey hair, and fl ed into the open stair-hole
as into a grave.
We had gone back home till the storm was over, and then,
restless, afraid of the arrival of George, we set out again into
the wet evening. It was fi ne and chilly, and already a mist was
rising from Nethermere, veiling the farther shore, where the
trees rose loftily, suggesting groves beyond the Nile. The birds
were singing riotously. The fresh green hedge glistened vividly
and glowed again with intense green. Looking at the water,
I perceived a delicate fl ush from the west hiding along it. The
mist licked and wreathed up the shores; from the hidden white
287
DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
distance came the mournful cry of water-fowl. We went slowly
along behind a heavy cart, which clanked and rattled under
the dripping trees, with the hoofs of the horse moving with
broad thuds in front. We passed over black patches where the
ash fl owers were beaten down, and under great massed clouds
of green sycamore. At the sudden curve of the road, near the
foot of the hill, I stopped to break off a spray of larch, where
the soft cones were heavy as raspberries, and gay like fl owers with petals. The shaken bough spattered a heavy shower
on my face, of drops so cold that they seemed to sink into my
blood and chill it.
“Hark!” said Lettie, as I was drying my face. There was the
quick patter of a motor-car coming downhill. The heavy cart
was drawn across the road to rest, and the driver hurried to
turn the horse back. It moved with painful slowness, and we
stood in the road in suspense. Suddenly, before we knew it, the
car was dropping down on us, coming at us in a curve, having
rounded the horse and cart. Lettie stood faced with terror. Leslie saw her, and swung round the wheels on the sharp, curving hill-side; looking only to see that he should miss her. The
car slid sideways; the mud crackled under the wheels, and the
machine went crashing into Nethermere. It caught the edge
of the old stone wall with a smash. Then for a few moments
I think I was blind. When I saw again, Leslie was lying across
the broken hedge, his head hanging down the bank, his face
covered with blood; the car rested strangely on the brink of
the water, crumpled as if it had sunk down to rest.
Lettie, with hands shuddering, was wiping the blood from
his eyes with a piece of her underskirt. In a moment she said:
288
THE WHITE PEACOCK
“He is not dead – let us take him home – let us take him
quickly.”
I ran and took the wicket-gate off its hinges and laid him
on that. His legs trailed down, but we carried him thus, she at
the feet, I at the head. She made me stop and put him down.
I thought the weight was too much for her, but it was not that.
“I can’t bear to see his hand hanging, knocking against the
bushes and things.”
It was not many yards to the house. A maidservant saw us,
came running out, and went running back, like the frightened
lapwing from the wounded cat.
We waited until the doctor came. There was a deep graze
down the side of the head – serious, but not dangerous; there
was a cut across the cheek-bone that would leave a scar; and
the collar-bone was broken. I stayed until he had recovered
consciousness. “Lettie.” He wanted Lettie, so she had to remain
at Highclose all night. I went home to tell my mother.
When I went to bed I looked across at the lighted windows
of Highclose, and the lights trailed mistily towards me across
the water. The cedar stood dark guard against the house; bright
the windows were, like the stars, covering their torment in
brightness. The sky was glittering with sharp lights – they are
too far off to take trouble for us, so little, little almost to nothingness. All the great hollow vastness roars overhead, and the
stars are only sparks that whirl and spin in the restless space.
The earth must listen to us; she covers her face with a thin
veil of mist, and is sad; she soaks up our blood tenderly, in the
darkness, grieving, and in the light she soothes and reassures
289
DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE
us. Here on our earth is sympathy and hope, the heavens have
nothing but distances.
A corn-crake talked to me across the valley, talked and
talked endlessly, asking and answering in hoarse tones from
the sleeping, mist-hidden meadows. The monotonous voice,
that on past summer evenings had had pleasant notes of romance, now was intolerable to me. Its infl exible harshness and
cacophony seemed like the voice of fate speaking out its tuneless perseverance in the night.
In the morning Lettie came home wan, sad-eyed, and selfreproachful. After a short time they came for her, as he wanted
her again.
When in the evening I went to see George, he too was very
despondent.
“It’s no good now,” said I. “You should have insisted and
made your own destiny.”
“Yes – perhaps so,” he drawled in his best refl ective manner.
“I would have had her – she’d have been glad if you’d done
as you wanted with her. She won’t leave him till he’s strong,
and he’ll marry her before then. You should have had the courage to risk yourself – you’re always too careful of yourself and
your own poor feelings – you never could brace yourself up
to a shower-bath of contempt and hard usage, so you’ve saved
your feelings and lost – not much, I suppose – you couldn’t.”
“But –” he began, not looking up; and I laughed at him.
“Go on,” I said.
“Well – she was engaged to him –
“Pah – you thought you were too good to be rejected.”
290
Соседние файлы в предмете [НЕСОРТИРОВАННОЕ]