第162章

第162章whenmr.st.johnwent,itwasbeginningtosnow;thewhirlingstormcontinuedallnight.thenextdayakeenwindbroughtfreshandblindingfalls;bytwilightthevalleywasdriftedupandalmostimpassable.ihadclosedmyshutter,laidamattothedoortopreventthesnowfromblowinginunderit,trimmedmyfire,andaftersittingnearlyanhouronthehearthlisteningtothemuffledfuryofthetempest,ilitacandle,tookdown“marmion,”andbeginning—

“daysetonnorham’scastledsteep,

andtweed’sfairriverbroadanddeep,

andcheviot’smountainslone;

themassivetowers,thedonjonkeep,

theflankingwallsthatroundthemsweep,

inyellowlustreshone”—

isoonforgotstorminmusic.

iheardanoise:thewind,ithought,shookthedoor.no;itwasst.johnrivers,who,liftingthelatch,cameinoutofthefrozenhurricane—thehowlingdarkness—andstoodbeforeme:thecloakthatcoveredhistallfigureallwhiteasaglacier.iwasalmostinconsternation,solittlehadiexpectedanyguestfromtheblocked-upvalethatnight.

“anyillnews?”idemanded.“hasanythinghappened?”

“no.howveryeasilyalarmedyouare?”heanswered,removinghiscloakandhangingitupagainstthedoor,towardswhichheagaincoollypushedthematwhichhisentrancehadderanged.hestampedthesnowfromhisboots.

“ishallsullythepurityofyourfloor,”saidhe,“butyoumustexcusemeforonce.”thenheapproachedthefire.“ihavehadhardworktogethere,iassureyou,”heobserved,ashewarmedhishandsovertheflame.“onedrifttookmeuptothewaist;happilythesnowisquitesoftyet.”

“butwhyareyoucome?”icouldnotforbearsaying.

“ratheraninhospitablequestiontoputtoavisitor;butsinceyouaskit,ianswersimplytohavealittletalkwithyou;igottiredofmymutebooksandemptyrooms.besides,sinceyesterdayihaveexperiencedtheexcitementofapersontowhomatalehasbeenhalf-told,andwhoisimpatienttohearthesequel.”

hesatdown.irecalledhissingularconductofyesterday,andreallyibegantofearhiswitsweretouched.ifhewereinsane,however,hiswasaverycoolandcollectedinsanity:ihadneverseenthathandsome-featuredfaceofhislookmorelikechiselledmarblethanitdidjustnow,asheputasidehissnow-wethairfromhisforeheadandletthefirelightshinefreeonhispalebrowandcheekaspale,whereitgrievedmetodiscoverthehollowtraceofcareorsorrownowsoplainlygraved.iwaited,expectinghewouldsaysomethingicouldatleastcomprehend;buthishandwasnowathischin,hisfingeronhislip:hewasthinking.itstruckmethathishandlookedwastedlikehisface.aperhapsuncalled-forgushofpitycameovermyheart:iwasmovedtosay—

“iwishdianaormarywouldcomeandlivewithyou:itistoobadthatyoushouldbequitealone;andyouarerecklesslyrashaboutyourownhealth.”

“notatall,”saidhe:“icareformyselfwhennecessary.iamwellnow.whatdoyouseeamissinme?”

thiswassaidwithacareless,abstractedindifference,whichshowedthatmysolicitudewas,atleastinhisopinion,whollysuperfluous.iwassilenced.

hestillslowlymovedhisfingeroverhisupperlip,andstillhiseyedweltdreamilyontheglowinggrate;thinkingiturgenttosaysomething,iaskedhimpresentlyifhefeltanycolddraughtfromthedoor,whichwasbehindhim.

“no,no!”herespondedshortlyandsomewhattestily.

“well,”ireflected,“ifyouwon’ttalk,youmaybestill;i’llletyoualonenow,andreturntomybook.”

soisnuffedthecandleandresumedtheperusalof“marmion.”hesoonstirred;myeyewasinstantlydrawntohismovements;heonlytookoutaopocket-book,thenceproducedaletter,whichhereadinsilence,foldedit,putitback,relapsedintomeditation.itwasvaintotrytoreadwithsuchaninscrutablefixturebeforeme;norcouldi,inimpatience,consenttobedumb;hemightrebuffmeifmyheliked,buttalkiwould.

“haveyouheardfromdianaandmarylately?”

“notsincetheletterishowedyouaweekago.”

“therehasnotbeenanychangemadeaboutyourownarrangements?youwillnotbesummonedtoleaveenglandsoonerthanyouexpected?”

“ifearnot,indeed:suchchanceistoogoodtobefallme.”baffledsofar,ichangedmyground.ibethoughtmyselftotalkabouttheschoolandmyscholars.

“marygarrett’smotherisbetter,andmarycamebacktotheschoolthismorning,andishallhavefournewgirlsnextweekfromthefoundryclose—theywouldhavecometo-daybutforthesnow.”

“indeed!”

“mr.oliverpaysfortwo.”

“doeshe?”

“hemeanstogivethewholeschoolatreatatchristmas.”

“iknow.”

“wasityourestion?”

“no.”

“whose,then?”

“hisdaughter’s,ithink.”

“itislikeher:sheissogood-natured.”

无一错一首一发一内一容一在一6一9一书一吧一看！

“yes.”

againcametheblankofapause:theclockstruckeightstrokes.itarousedhim;heuncrossedhislegs,saterect,turnedtome.

“leaveyourbookamoment,andcomealittlenearerthefire,”hesaid.

wondering,andofmywonderfindingnoend,icomplied.

“half-an-hourago,”hepursued,“ispokeofmyimpatiencetohearthesequelofatale:onreflection,ifindthematterwillbebettermanagedbymyassumingthenarrator’spart,andconvertingyouintoalistener.beforecommencing,itisbutfairtowarnyouthatthestorywillsoundsomewhathackneyedinyourears;butstaledetailsoftenregainadegreeoffreshnesswhentheypassthroughnewlips.fortherest,whethertriteornovel,itisshort.