第 169 节
作者:温暖寒冬      更新:2024-04-09 19:50      字数:9250
  two friends turned out on their starlight walk together。
  “There’s   that   poor   fool;   Vixen;   whimpering   for   me   at   home;”
  said    Bartle。   “I  can   never   bring   her   here    with   me   for  fear   she
  should be struck with Mrs。 Poyser’s eye; and the poor bitch might
  go limping for ever after。”
  “I’ve never any need to drive Gyp back;” said Adam; laughing。
  “He   always   turns   back   of   his   own   head   when   he   finds   out   I’m
  coming here。”
  “Aye; aye;” said Bartle。  “A  terrible   woman!—made   of  needles;
  made   of   needles。   But   I   stick   to   Martin—I   shall   always     stick  to
  Martin。   And   he   likes   the   needles;   God   help   him!   He’s   a   cushion
  made on purpose for ’em。”
  “But she’s a downright good…natur’d woman; for all that;” said
  Adam; “and as true as the daylight。 She’s a bit cross wi’ the dogs
  when they offer to come in th’ house; but if they depended on her;
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  she’d   take   care  and   have   ’em   well   fed。   If   her   tongue’s   keen;   her
  heart’s tender: I’ve seen that in times o’ trouble。 She’s one o’ those
  women as are better than their word。”
  “Well; well;” said Bartle; “I don’t say th’ apple isn’t sound at the
  core; but it sets my teeth on edge—it sets my teeth on edge。”
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  Chapter LIV
  The Meeting on the Hill
  dam understood Dinah’s haste to go away; and drew hope
  Arather  than   discouragement  from   it。   She   was   fearful   lest
  the strength of her feeling towards him should hinder her
  from waiting and listening faithfully for the ultimate guiding voice
  from within。
  “I wish I’d asked her to write to me; though;” he thought。 “And
  yet   even   that   might   disturb   her   a   bit;   perhaps。   She   wants   to   be
  quite   quiet   in   her   old   way   for   a   while。   And   I’ve   no   right   to   be
  impatient   and   interrupting   her   with   my         wishes。    She’s   told   me
  what   her   mind   is;   and   she’s   not   a   woman   to   say   one   thing   and
  mean another。 I’ll wait patiently。”
  That was Adam’s   wise  resolution;   and it  throve   excellently  for
  the   first   two   or   three   weeks   on   the   nourishment   it   got   from   the
  remembrance of Dinah’s confession that Sunday afternoon。 There
  is a wonderful amount of sustenance in the first few words of love。
  But     towards     the   middle     of  October      the   resolution     began    to
  dwindle       perceptibly;      and     showed      dangerous        symptoms        of
  exhaustion。   The   weeks   were   unusually   long:   Dinah   must   surely
  have   had   more   than   enough   time   to   make   up   her   mind。   Let   a
  woman say  what  she   will after  she   has   once   told   a man   that  she
  loves   him;   he   is   a  little  too   flushed   and  exalted    with   that   first
  draught she offers him to care much about the taste of the second。
  He treads the earth with a very elastic step as he walks away from
  her;   and makes light  of  all difficulties。   But   that   sort   of   glow   dies
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  out: memory gets sadly diluted with time; and is not strong enough
  to revive us。 Adam was no longer so confident as he had been。 He
  began to fear that perhaps Dinah’s old life would have too strong a
  grasp upon her for any new feeling to triumph。 If she had not felt
  this;   she   would    surely    have   written    to  him    to  give   him   some
  comfort; but it appeared that she held it right to discourage him。
  As Adam’s confidence waned; his patience waned with it; and he
  thought   he   must   write   himself。   He   must   ask   Dinah   not   to   leave
  him in painful doubt longer than was needful。 He sat up late one
  night to write her a letter; but the next morning he burnt it; afraid
  of its effect。 It would be worse   to  have   a   discouraging  answer  by
  letter than from her own lips; for her presence reconciled him to
  her will。
  You perceive how it was: Adam was hungering for the sight of
  Dinah;   and   when   that   sort   of   hunger   reaches   a   certain   stage;   a
  lover   is   likely   to   still   it   though   he   may   have   to   put   his   future   in
  pawn。
  But what harm could he do by going to Snowfield? Dinah could
  not be displeased with him for it。 She had not forbidden him to go。
  She     must   surely    expect    that  he   would    go   before   long。   By   the
  second   Sunday   in   October   this   view   of   the   case   had   become   so
  clear   to   Adam   that   he   was   already   on   his   way   to   Snowfield;   on
  horseback this time; for his hours were precious now; and he had
  borrowed Jonathan Burge’s good nag for the journey。
  What   keen   memories   went   along   the   road   with   him!   He   had
  often    been    to  Oakbourne       and   back    since   that   first  journey   to
  Snowfield; but beyond Oakbourne the grey stone walls; the broken
  country;   the   meagre   trees;   seemed   to   be   telling   him   afresh   the
  story of that painful past which he knew so well by heart。 But no
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  story   is   the   same   to   us   after   a   lapse   of   time—or   rather;   we   who
  read     it  are   no   longer     the   same     interpreters—and          Adam      this
  morning        brought     with     him    new     thoughts      through     that    grey
  country; thoughts which gave an altered significance to its story of
  the past。
  That   is   a   base   and   selfish;   even   a   blasphemous;   spirit   which
  rejoices   and   is   thankful   over   the   past   evil   that   has     blighted     or
  crushed another; because it has been made a source of unforeseen
  good   to   ourselves。   Adam   could   never   cease   to   mourn   over   that
  mystery of human sorrow which had been brought so close to him;
  he   could   never   thank   God        for   another’s     misery。    And    if   I  were
  capable of that narrow…sighted joy in Adam’s behalf; I should still
  know   he   was   not   the   man   to   feel   it   for   himself。   He   would   have
  shaken   his   head   at   such   a   sentiment   and   said;   “Evil’s   evil;   and
  sorrow’s sorrow; and you can’t alter it’s natur by wrapping it up in
  other   words。      Other   folks     were    not   created    for   my   sake;    that   I
  should think all square when things turn out well for me。”
  But   it   is  not   ignoble   to   feel  that   the   fuller   life  which   a   sad
  experience   has   brought   us   is   worth   our   own   personal   share   of
  pain。 Surely it is not  possible   to  feel   otherwise;   any  more   than   it
  would   be   possible   for   a   man   with   cataract   to   regret   the   painful
  process   by   which   his   dim   blurred   sight   of   men   as   trees   walking
  had     been    exchanged       for   clear   outline     and   effulgent     day。   The
  growth   of   higher   feeling   within   us   is   like   the   growth   of   faculty;
  bringing with it a sense of added strength。 We can no more wish to
  return to a narrower  sympathy  than a   painter  or  a   musician can
  wish to return to his cruder manner;  or  a   philosopher  to  his less
  complete formula。
  Something   like        this  sense    of  enlarged      being    was   in   Adam’s
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  mind this Sunday morning; as he rode along in vivid recollection
  of the past。 His feeling towards Dinah; the hope of passing his life
  with   her;   had   been   the   distant   unseen   point   towards   which   that
  hard     journey     from    Snowfield      eighteen     months     ago    had    been
  leading him。 Tender and deep as his love for Hetty had been—so
  deep   that   the   roots   of   it   would   never   be