At last the crisis came—through George, the youngest, least-considered son at Odiam. He had always been a weakling, as if Naomi had passed into his body her own[Pg 221] passionate1 distaste for life. Also, as is common with epileptic children, his intellect was not very bright. It had been the habit to spare him, even Reuben had done so within reason. But he should not really have worked at all, or only in strict moderation—certainly he should not have been sent out that October evening to dig up the bracken roots on the new land. Tilly expostulated—"Anyhow he didn't ought to work alone "—but Reuben was angry with the boy, whom he had caught loafing once or twice that day, and roughly packed him off.
He himself went over to Moor2's Cottage about a load of trifolium, and returning in the darkness by Cheat Land was persuaded to stay to supper. That was one of the nights when he did not like Alice Jury—he sometimes went through the experience of disliking her, which was an adventure in itself, so wild and surprising was it, so bewildering to remember afterwards. She seemed a little colourless—she was generally so vivid that he noticed and resented all the more those times when her shoulders drooped3 against her chair, and her little face looked strangely wistful instead of eager. It seemed as if on these occasions Alice were actually pleading with him. She lost that antagonism4 which was the salt of their relations, instead of fighting she pleaded. Pleaded for what? He dared not ask that question, in case the answer should show him some strange new Canaan which was not his promised land. So he came away muttering—"only a liddle stick of a woman. I like gurt women—I like 'em rosy5, I like 'em full-breasted.... She'd never do fur me."
He tramped home through the darkness. A storm was rising, shaking the fir-plumes of Boarzell against a scudding6 background of clouds and stars. The hedges whispered, the dead leaves rustled7, the woods sighed. Every now and then a bellow8 would come from the Moor, as the sou'wester roared up in a gust9, then a low sobbing10 followed it into silence.
On the doorstep Reuben was greeted by Tilly—where was George? He had not been in to supper.
"Have you looked in the new field?"
"Yes—Benjamin went round. But he ?un't there."
"Well, I d?an't know where he is."
"Reckon he's fallen down in a fit somewhere and died."
Tilly was not looking at all like Naomi to-night.
"Nonsense," said Reuben, resenting her manner.
"It ?un't nonsense. I always know when his fits are coming on because he's tired and can't work pr?aperly. He was like that to-day. And you—you drove him out."
Reuben had never been spoken to like this by his daughter. He turned on her angrily, then suddenly changed his mind. For the first time he really saw what a fine girl she was—all that Alice was not.
"We'll go and look for him," he said—"send out the boys."
All that night they hunted for George on Boarzell. It was pitch dark. Soon great layers of cloud were sagging11 over the stars, and Boarzell's firs were lost in the blackness behind them. Reuben, his sons, Beatup, Piper, Handshut, Boorman, fought the dark with lanterns as one might fight Behemoth with pin-pricks. They scattered12 over the Moor, searching the thorn-clumps and gorse-thickets. It was pretty certain that he was not on the new ground by Flightshot. Richard said openly that he did not believe in the fit and that George had run away, and—less openly—that it was a good job too. The other boys, however, did not think that he had enough sense to run away, and agreed that his condition all day had foretold13 an attack.
Reuben himself believed in the fit, and a real anxiety tortured him as he thrust his lantern into the gaping14 caverns15 of bushes. He had by his thoughtless and excessive zeal17 allowed Boarzell to rob him of another man. Of course, it did not follow that George was dead,[Pg 223] but unless they found him soon it was quite likely that he would not survive exposure on such a night. If so, Reuben had only himself to thank for it. He should have listened to his daughter, and either let George off his work or made him work near home. He did not pretend to himself that he loved this weakling son, or that his death would cause his fatherhood much grief, but he found himself with increasing definiteness brought up against the conviction that Boarzell was beating him, wringing18 its own out of him by slow, inexorable means, paying him back a hundredfold for every acre he took or furrow19 he planted.
He had become separated from the other searchers, and was alone on the west side of the Moor. The wind barked and howled, hurling20 itself upon him as he stood, beating his face with hail, which hissed21 into the dead tangles22 of the heather, while the stripped thorns yapped and rattled23, and the bushes roared. So great was the tumult24 that he seemed to fall into it like a stone into a wave—it passed over him, round him, seemed even to pass under him, he was hardly conscious of the solid ground. The blackness was impenetrable, save where his lantern stained it with a yellow smudge. He shouted, but his voice perished in the din—it seemed as if his whole man, sight, voice, hearing, and sensation, was blurring25 into the storm, as if Boarzell had swamped him at last, made him merely one of its hundred voices, mocking the manhood which had tried so much against its earth.
The wind seemed to be laughing at him, as it bellowed27 up in gusts28, struck him, sprayed him, roughed his hair out madly, smacked29 his cheeks, drove the rain into his skin, and then rumbled30 away with a hundred chatterings and sighings. It seemed to be telling him that as his breath was to this wind so was he himself to Boarzell. The wind was the voice of the Moor, and it told him that in fighting Boarzell, he did not fight the mere26 earth,[Pg 224] an agglomeration31 of lime and clay which he could trample32 and compel, but all the powers behind it. In arming himself against Boarzell he armed himself against the whole of nature's huge resources, the winds, the storms, the droughts, the early and the latter rain, the poisons in plants, and the death in stones, the lusts33 which spilling over from the beasts into the heart of man slay34 him from within himself. He had armed himself against all these, and once again the old words sang in his head—"Canst thou draw out Leviathan with a hook? or bore his jaw35 through with a thorn? Will he make a covenant36 with thee? Wilt37 thou take him for a servant for ever?"
He had shrunk into the rattling38 shelter of some thorn-bushes. They scraped their boughs39 like grotesque40 violins, and every other moment they would sweep down over him and shut him into a cavern16 of snapping twigs41. He was soaked to the skin and his teeth chattered42. He lay close to the earth, seeking shelter even from the skeleton heather which writhed43 woody stems all round him. He cursed. Must he spend the night here, lost and grovelling44, to listen while Boarzell screeched45 its triumph over his cold, drenched46 body....
"Canst thou draw out Leviathan with a hook? or bore his jaw through with a thorn? Will he make a covenant with thee? Wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?
"His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether47 millstone.
"The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold; the spear, the dart48, nor the habergeon.
"He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass49 as rotten wood.
"Sharp stones are under him...."
A crash of thunder and a spit of lightning tore open the sky, and for a moment Reuben saw the slope of the Moor livid in the flash, and the crest50 of firs standing[Pg 225] against the split and tumbling clouds. The air rang, screamed, hissed, rushed, and rumbled. Reuben, hardly knowing what he did, had sprung to his feet.
"I'll have wheat growing here in a twelvemonth!" he shouted.
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1
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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2
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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3
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4
antagonism
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| n.对抗，敌对，对立 | |
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5
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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6
scudding
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| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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7
rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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9
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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10
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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11
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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12
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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13
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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15
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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16
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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17
zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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18
wringing
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| 淋湿的，湿透的 | |
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19
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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20
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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21
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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22
tangles
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| （使）缠结， （使）乱作一团( tangle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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23
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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24
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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25
blurring
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| n.模糊，斑点甚多，（图像的）混乱v.（使）变模糊( blur的现在分词 )；（使）难以区分 | |
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26
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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27
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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28
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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29
smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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31
agglomeration
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| n.结聚，一堆 | |
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32
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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33
lusts
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| 贪求（lust的第三人称单数形式） | |
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34
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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35
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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36
covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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37
wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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38
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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39
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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40
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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41
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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42
chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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43
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
grovelling
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| adj.卑下的，奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 )；趴 | |
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45
screeched
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的过去式和过去分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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46
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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47
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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48
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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49
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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50
crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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