So Albert's letter remained unanswered—Caro felt that Reuben was unjust. She had grown very critical of him lately, and a smarting dislike coloured her [Pg 337]judgments. After all, it was he who had driven everybody to whatever it was that had disgraced him. He was to blame for Robert's theft, for Albert's treachery, for Richard's base dependence2 on the Bardons, for George's death, for Benjamin's disappearance3, for Tilly's marriage, for Rose's elopement—it was a heavy load, but Caro put the whole of it on Reuben's shoulders, and added, moreover, the tragedy of her own warped4 life. He was a tyrant5, who sucked his children's blood, and cursed them when they succeeded in breaking free.
Caro had been much unhappier since Rose's flight. She had loved her in an erratic7 envious8 way, and Rose's gaiety and flutters of generosity9 had done much to brighten her humdrum10 life. Now she was left to her brooding. She felt lonely and friendless. Once or twice she went over to Grandturzel, but the visits were always difficult to manage, and somehow the sight of her sister's happiness made her sore without enlivening her.
It was only lately that her longing11 for love and freedom had become a torment12. Up till a year or two ago her desires had been merely wistful. Now a restless hunger gnawed13 at her heart, setting her continually searching after change and brightness. She had come to hate her household duties and the care of the little boys. She wanted to dance—dance—dance—to dance at fairs and balls, to wear pretty clothes, and be admired and courted. Why should she not have these things? She was not so ugly as many girls who had them. It was cruel that she should never have been allowed to know a man, never allowed to enjoy herself or have her fling. Even the sons of the neighbouring farmers had been kept away from her—by her father, greedy for her work. Tilly, by a lucky chance, had found a man, but lucky chances never came to Caro. She saw herself living out her life as a household drudge14, dying an old maid, all coarsened by uncongenial work, all starved of love, all sick of, yet still hungry for, life.
Sometimes she would be overwhelmed by self-pity, and would weep bitterly over whatever task she was doing at the time, so that her tears were quite a usual sauce to pies and puddings if only Reuben had known it.
The year passed, and the new year came, showing the farm still on the upward struggle, with everyone hard at work, and no one, except Reuben, enjoying it particularly. Luck again favoured Odiam—the lambing of that spring was the best for years, and as the days grew longer the furrows15 bloomed with tender green sproutings, and hopes of another good harvest ran high.
Caro watched the year bud and flower—May came and creamed the hedges with blossom and rusted16 the grass with the first heats. Then June whitened the fields with big moon-daisies and frothed the banks with chervil and fennel. The evenings were tender, languorous17, steeped in the scent18 of hay. They hurt Caro with their sweetness, so that she scarcely dared lift her eyes to the purpling twilight19 sky, or breathe the wind that swept up heavy with hay and roses from the fields. July did nothing to heal her—its yellow, heat-throbbing dawns smote20 her with despair—its noons were a long-drawn ache, and when in the evening hay and dust and drooping21 chervil troubled the air with shreds22 and ghosts of scent, something almost akin6 to madness would twist her heart.
She felt as one whose memory calls and yet has nothing to remember, whose thoughts run to and fro and yet has nothing to think of, whose hopes pile themselves, and yet is hopeless, whose love cries out from the depths, and yet is loveless.
One evening at the beginning of August she wandered out of the kitchen for a breath of fresh air in the garden before going up to bed. Her head ached, and her cheeks burned from the fire. She did not know it, but the flush and fever made her nearly beautiful. She was[Pg 339] not a bad-looking woman, though a trifle too dark and heavy-featured, and now the glow on her cheeks and the restless brilliancy of her eyes had kindled23 her almost into loveliness.
She picked one or two roses that drooped24 untended against the fence, she held them to her breast, and the tears came into her eyes. It was nearly dark, and the lustreless25 cobalt sky held only one star—Aldebaran, red above Boarzell's firs. A puff26 of wind came from the west, and with it a snatch of song. Someone was singing on the Moor27, and the far-away voice wove itself into the web of trouble and yearning28 that dimmed her heart.
She moved down to the gate and leaned over it, while her eyes roved the twilight unseeing. The voice on the Moor swelled29 clearer. It was a man's voice, low-pitched and musical:
"Farewell, farewell, you jolly young girls!
We're off to Rio Bay!"
She remembered that there had been a wedding at Gablehook. One of the farmer's girls had married a Rye fisherman, and this was probably a guest on his way home, a little the worse for drink.
"At Vera Cruz the days are fine—
Farewell to Jane and Caroline!"
The song with its hearty30 callousness31 broke strangely into the dusk and Caro's palpitating dreams. Something about it enticed32 and troubled her; the singer was coming nearer.
"At Nombre de Dios the skies are blue—
Farewell to Moll, farewell to Sue!"
She stood at the gate and could see him as a blot33 on the Moor. He was coming towards Odiam, and she[Pg 340] watched him as he plunged34 through the heather, singing at the pitch of his lungs:
"At Santiago love is kind,
And we'll forget those left behind—
So kiss us long, and kiss us well,
Polly and Meg and Kate and Nell—
Farewell, farewell, you jolly young girls!
We're off to Rio Bay."
He had struck the path that ran by the bottom of the garden, and swaggered along it with the seaman35's peculiar36 rolling gait, accentuated37 by strong liquor. Caro felt him coming nearer, and told herself uneasily that she had better go back into the house. He was drunk, and he might speak to her. Still she did not move, she found herself clinging to the gate, leaning her breast against it, while her tongue felt thick and dry in her mouth.
He was quite close—she could hear the thud of his step on the soft earth. Her hands grasped the two gate-posts, and she leaned forward over the gate, so that her face caught the faint radiance that still lingered in the zenith. He had stopped singing, but she could see him now distinctly—a tall, loosely-built figure, with dark face, and woolly hair like a nigger's, while his seaman's earrings38 caught the starlight.
He drew level with her, not seeing her. She did not move, she scarcely breathed, and he had almost passed her ... then suddenly his eyes turned and met hers.
"Hello, Susan!"
He stood swaying before her on his heels, his hands in his trouser-pockets, his head a little on one side. Caro did not speak—she could not.
"What time is it, dear?"
"I—I dunno," she faltered39, her voice sounding squeaky and unlike her own: "it might be nine."
"It might be Wales or Madagasky,
It might be Rio de Janeiro."
he trolled, and Caro was suddenly afraid lest someone should hear in the house. She glanced back uneasily over her shoulder.
"Papa on the look-out?"
She coloured, and began to stutter something.
"I've been to a wedding," he said conversationally40; "a proper wedding with girls and kisses."
He suddenly leaned over the gate and kissed Caro on the lips.
She gave a little scream and started back from him. For a moment earth, sky, and trees seemed to reel together in one crazy dance. She was conscious of nothing but the kiss, her first kiss; it had smelt41 and tasted strongly of brandy, if the truth were told, but it had none the less been a kiss, and her sacrament of initiation42. She stood there in the darkness with parted lips and shining eyes. The dusk was kind to her, and she pleased the sailor.
"Come out for a walk," he said, and lifted the latch43.
Caro trembled so that she could hardly move, and once again came the feeling that she ought to turn and run back into the house. But she was powerless in the clutch of her long-thwarted emotions. The tipsy sailor became God to her, and she followed him out on to the Moor.
After all he was not really drunk, only a little fuddled. He walked straight, and his roll was natural to him, while though he was exceedingly cheerful, and often burst into song, his words were not jumbled44, and he generally seemed to have a fair idea of what he was saying.
She wondered if she were awake—everything seemed so strange, so new, and yet paradoxically so natural. Was she the same Caro who had washed the babies and cooked the supper and resigned herself to dying an old maid? She could not ponder things, ask herself how it was that a man who had not known her ten[Pg 342] minutes could love her—all she realised was his arm round her waist, and in her heart a seethe45 of happy madness.
"When the stars are up above the Main
And winking46 in the sea,
'Tis then I dream of thee,
Emilee!
And my dreams are full of pain."
—sang the sailor sentimentally47. His arm crept up from her waist to her shoulder and lay heavy there. They strolled on along the narrow path, and the darkness stole down on them from the Moor, wrapping them softly together. They told each other their names—his was Joe Dansay, and he was a sailorman of Rye, who had been on many voyages to South America and the Coral Seas. He looked about twenty-five, though he was tanned and weather-beaten all over. His eyes were dark and foreign-looking, so was his hair. His mouth was a trifle too wide, his nose short and stubborn.
He was now leaning heavily on Caro as he walked, and too shy, and perhaps reluctant, to ask him to lift his arm, she naively48 suggested that they should sit down and rest. Dansay was delighted—she was not the timid little bird he had thought, and directly they had sunk into the heather he seized her in his arms, and began kissing her violently on neck and lips.
Caro was frightened, horrified—she broke free, and scrambled49 to her feet. She nearly wept, and it was clear even to his muddled50 brain that her invitation had been merely the result of innocence51 more profound than that which had stimulated52 her shyness. Rough seaman though he was, he was touched, and managed to soothe53 her, for she was too bashful and frightened to be really indignant. They walked a few yards further along the path, then at her request turned back towards Odiam.
They parted uneasily, without any arrangement to meet again.
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1
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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erratic
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| adj.古怪的，反复无常的，不稳定的 | |
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8
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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9
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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humdrum
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| adj.单调的，乏味的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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13
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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14
drudge
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| n.劳碌的人；v.做苦工，操劳 | |
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furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
languorous
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| adj.怠惰的，没精打采的 | |
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18
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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19
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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21
drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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23
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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24
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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25
lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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26
puff
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| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
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27
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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28
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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29
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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30
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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31
callousness
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32
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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34
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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35
seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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36
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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37
accentuated
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| v.重读( accentuate的过去式和过去分词 )；使突出；使恶化；加重音符号于 | |
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38
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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39
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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40
conversationally
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| adv.会话地 | |
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41
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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42
initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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43
latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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44
jumbled
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| adj.混乱的；杂乱的 | |
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45
seethe
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| vi.拥挤，云集；发怒，激动，骚动 | |
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46
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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47
sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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48
naively
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| adv. 天真地 | |
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49
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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50
muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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51
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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52
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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53
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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