（
展搜中文网）（
猎色花都）（
都市最强仙医）（
重生之小小农家女）（
射雕之江湖）（
重生之校园特种兵）“i,” she said, very slowly,was married the same nightyou.”
he lookedher.
“not legally,course,” she replied.“but actually.”
“to the keeper?”said, not knowing what elsesay.
she turnedhim.
“you thoughould not?” she said.
but the flush was deepher cheek and throat, for all her assurance.
stillwould not say anything.
“you see” she was makingeffortexplainhadunderstand also.”
“and what doesamount to, this understanding?”asked.
“a very great deal doesnotyou?” she replied.“onefree.”
“and you are not disappointed?”
“far from it!”her tone was deep and sincere.
“you love him?”
“yes, i love him.”
“good!”said.
this silenced her fohile.
“here, among his things, i love him,” she said.
his conceit would not let himsilent.
“it needs this setting?”asked.
“it does,” she cried.“you were always makingtonot myself.”
he laughed shortly.
“butita mattersurroundings?” h had considered her all spirit.
“ilike aplant,” she replied.“i can only growmy own soil.”
they came toa place where the undergrowth shrank away, leavinare, brown space, pillared with the brick red and purplish trunkspin the fringe, hung the sombre greenelder trees, with flat flowersbud, and below were bright, unfurling pennonhe midstthe bare space stooeeper’scoops were lying about, some occupieda clucking hen, some empty.
hilda walkedover the brown pine needlesthe hut, tooey from among the eaves, and openedwaare wooden place witarpenter’s bench and form, carpenter’s tools,axe, snares, straps, some skins pegged down, everythinlosedexamined the weird flat coatswild animals, that were pegged downb turned some knotchthe side wall, and discloseecond, small apartment.
“how romantic!” said syson.
“yes.hevery curioushas somea wild animal’s cunninga nice sense andis inventive, and thoughtful but not beyonertain point.”
she pulled bacark green curtain.
the apartmentwas occupied almost entirelya large couchheather and bracken,which was spreadample rabbit ski the floor were patchwork rugscat skin, aned calf skin, while hanging from the wall were othe took down one, which she put on.it waloakrabbit skin andwhite fur, witood, apparentlythe skinaughedsyson from outthis barbaric mantle, saying:“whatyou thinkit?”
“ahcongratulate youyour man,”replied.
“and look!” she said.
iittle jara shelf were some sprays, frail and white,the first honeysuckle.
“they will scent the placenight,” she said.
he looked round curiously.
“where doese short, then?” h gazedhim foe, turning aside:
“the stars aren’t the same with him,” she said.“you could make them flash and quiver, and the fetnots eatlik could make thing foundoutave them all for myself, now.”
he laughed, saying:“after all, stars and fetnots are onl ought tomake poetry.”
“aye,” sheassented.“buave them all now.”
againlaughed bitterlyher.
she turne was leaning against the small windowthe tiny, obscure room, and was watching her, who stoodthe doorway, still cloakedhe cap was removed,she saw his face and head distinctlytheblack, straight, glossy hair was brushed clean back fromblack eyes were watching her, and his face, that was clear and cream, and perfectly smooth, was flickering.
“we are very different,” she said bitterly.
againlaughed.
“i see you disapproveme,”said.
“i disapprovewhat you have bee,” she said.
“you thinkmight”glancedthe hut “have been like this you and i?”
she shook her head.
“you! no; never!you pluckeda thing and lookedit till you had found out all you wantedknow about it, then you threwaway,” she said.
“did i?”asked.“and could your way never have beenway?i supposenot.”
“why should it?” she said.
“ia separate being.”
“but surely two people sometimesthe same way,”said.
“you tookaway from myself,” she said.
he knewhad mistaken her, had taken her for something shewas his fault, not hers.
“and did you always know?”asked.
“no you never leullied me.i couldn’t hel glad when you left me, really.”
“i know youwere,” h his face went paler, almost deathly luminous.
“yet,”said, “it was you who sentthe waave gone.”
“i!” she exclaimed,pride.
“you would havetake the grammar school scholarship and you would havefoster poor little botell’s fervent attachmentme, till she couldn’t live withoutand because botell was richtriumphedthe wine merchant’s offersendto cambridge,befriend his onl wantedto riseth all the time you were sendingaway from you every new successmine pueparation between us, and more for you than for me.you never wantede with me:you wanted justsendto see whatwa you even wantedto marry wantedtriumph over societyme.”
“and iresponsible,” she said, with sarcasm.
“i distinguished myselfsatisfy you,”replied.
“ah!” she cried, “you always wanted change, change, likhild.”
“very well!andsuccess, annow it, and isome gohought you wer right have youa man?”
“whatyou want?” she said, lookinghim with wide, fearful eyes.
he looked backher, his eyes pointed, like weapons.
“why, nothing,”laughed shortly.
there waattlingthe outer latch, and the keepe woman glanced round, but remained standing, fur cloaked,the inne did not move.
the other man entered, saw, and turned away withou two also were silent.
pilbeam attendedhis skins.
“i must go,” said syson.
“yes,” she replied.
“theive you ‘to our vast and varying fortunes.’”lifted his handpledge.
“‘to our vast and varying fortunes,’” she answered gravely, and speakingcold tones.
“arthur!” she said.
the keeper pretended not t, watching keenly, begaoman drew herself up.
“arthur!” she said again, witurious upward inflection, which warned the two men that her soul was tremblinga dangerous crisis.
the keeper slowly put down his tool and cameher.
“yes,”said.
“i wantedintroduce you,” she said, trembling.
“i’ve met him a’ready,” said the keeper.
“have you?itaddy,syson, whom you knoarthur,pilbeam,” she added, turninatter held out his handthe keeper, and they shook handssilence.
“i’m gladhave met you,” said syson.“we drop our correspondence, hilda?”
“why need we?” she asked.
the two men stooda loss.
“is thereneed?” said syson.
still she was silent.
“itas you will,” she said.
they went all three together down the gloomy path.
“‘qu’il etait bleu,ciel,grand l’espoir,’” quoted syson, not knowing whatsay.
“whatyou mean?” she said.“besides,can’t walkour wild oatsnever sowed any.”
syson lookeas startledsee his young love, his nun, his botticelli angel, s waswho had beenand she were more separate than any two strangers could be.she only wantedkeepa correspondence with him and he,course, wantedkept up,thatcould writeher, like dantesome beatrice who had never existed savethe man’s own brain.
at the bottomof the path she lef went along with the keeper, towards the open, towards the gate that closedth two men walked almost lik did notbroach the subjecttheir thoughts.
insteadgoing straightthe high road gate, syson went along the wood’s edge, where the brook spread outa little bog, and under the alder trees, among the reeds, great yellow stools and bossesmarigoldbrown water trickled by, touched with gold fromthere walue flashthe air,a kingfisher passed.
syson was extraordinaril climbed the bankthe gorse bushes, whose sparksblossom had not yet gathered into the dry brown turf,discovered sprigstiny purple milkwort and pink spot wonderful worldwas marvellous, for eve feltifwere underground, like the fieldsmonotone hell, his breast waain like remembered the poemwilliam morris, wherethe chapellyonessnight lay wounded, with the truncheona spear deephis breast, lying alwaysdead, yet did not die, while day after day the coloured sunlight dipped from the painted window across the chancel, and passe knew nownever had been true, that which was between him and her, not for truth had stood apart all the time.
syson turne air was fullthe soundlarks,if the sunshine above were condensing and falling this bright sound, voices sounded small and distinct.
“buthe’s married, an’ quite willingdropoff, what has her against it?” said the man’s voice.
“i don’t wanttalk about ibe alone.”
syson looked throughwas standingthe wood, nearman wasthe field, loiteringthe hedge, and playing with the beesthey settledthe white bramble flowers.
there was silence fohile,which syson imagined her will among the brightnessth the keeper exclaimed “ah!”was grippingthe sleevehis coat, nearhe pulled off his jacket, threwon the ground, and absorbedly rolledhis shirt sleeve rightthe shoulder.
“ah!”said vindictively,he picked out the bee and flunwisted his fine, bright arm, peering awkwardly over his shoulder.
“whatit?” asked hilda.
“a bee crawledmy sleeve,”answered.
“e hereme,” she said.
the keeper wentto her, likulk took his armher hands.
“hereis and the sting leftpoor bee!”
she picked outthe sting, put her mouthhis arm, and sucked away the drohe lookedat the red mark her mouth had made, andhis arm, she said, laughing:
“thatthe reddest kiss you will ever have.”
when syson nextlooked up,the soundvoices,sawthe shadow the keeper with his mouththe throathis beloved, whose head was thrownback, and whose hair had fallen,that one rough ropedark brown hair hung across his bare arm.
“no,” the woman answered.“inot upset because he’ won’t understand...”
syson could not distinguish what thereplied, clear and distinct:
“you knowi lov has gone quite outmy life don’t trouble about him...”he kissed her, laughed hollowly.
“yes,” she said, indulgent.“we willmarried,wilot just yet.”he spokehe heard nothing for she said:“you musthome, now, dear you will getsleep.”
again was heard the murmurthe keeper’s voice, troubledfear and passion.
“but why shouldbe marriedonce?” she said.“what more would you have,being married?itmost beautifulit is.”
at lastpulled onhis coatstoodthe gate, not watching him, but looking over the sunny country.
whenlast she had gone, syson also departed, going backtown.
m.pi.co
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