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CHAPTER XX THE WOMAN OF THE DREAM
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 Oh, was it in the dead of night,
 
Or in the dark before the day,
 
You came to me and kneeling, knew
 
The thing that I would never say?
 
There was no star, nor any moon,
 
There was no light from pole to pole,
 
And yet you saw the secret thing,
 
That I had hid within my soul.
 
You saw the secret and the shrine1,
 
You bowed your head and went your way—
 
Oh, was it in the dead of night,
 
Or in the dark that brings the day?
 
For the next fortnight Elizabeth lived in a dream from which she scarcely woke by day. The dream life—the dream love—the dream itself—these became her life. In the moments that came nearest the waking she trembled, because if the dream was her life, the waking would be death. But for the rest of the time she walked in a trance. Earth budded, and the birds built nests. The green of woodland places went down under a flood of bluebells2. The children made cowslip balls. All day long the sun shone out of a blue sky, and at night David came to her. Always he came at night, and went away in the dawn. And he remembered nothing.
 
 
Once she put her face to his in the darkness, and said:
 
“Oh, David, won’t you remember—won’t you ever remember? Am I only the Woman of the Dream? When will you remember?”
 
Then David was troubled in his dream, and stirred and went from her an hour before the time of his going.
 
Towards the end of the fortnight her trance wore thin. It was then that everything she saw or read seemed to press in upon one sore spot. If she went to the Mottisfonts’, there was Mary with her talk of Edward and the baby. Edward!—Elizabeth could have laughed; but the laughter went too. If there were not much of Edward, at least Mary had all that there was. And the child—did not she, too, desire children? But the child of a dream. How could she give to David the child of a dream already forgotten? If she walked, there were lovers in every lane, young lovers, who loved each other by day and in the eye of the sun. If she took up a book—once what she read was:
 
Come to me in my dreams, and then
 
By day I shall be well again!
 
For then the night will more than pay
 
The hopeless longing3 of the day.
 
and another time, Kingsley’s Dolcino to Margaret. Then came a day when she opened her Bible and read:
 
“If a man walk in the night, he stumbleth, because there is no light in him.”
 
That day she came broad awake. The daze4 passed from her. Her brain was clear, and her conscience—the inner vision rose before her, showing her an image troubled and confused. What had she done? And what was she doing now? Day by day David looked at her with the eyes of a friend, and night by night he came to her, the lover of a dream. Which was the reality? Which was the real David? If the David of the dream were real, conscious in sleep of some mysterious oneness, the sense of which was lost in the glare of day—then she could wait, and bear, and hope, till the realisation was so strong that the sun might shine upon it and show to David awake what the sleeping David knew.
 
 
But if the David of the dream were not the real David, then what was she? Mistress and no wife—the mistress of a dream mood that never touched Reality at all.
 
Two scalding tears in Elizabeth’s eyes—two and no more. The others burned her heart.
 
And the thought stayed with her.
 
That evening after dinner Elizabeth looked up from her embroidery5. The silence had grown to be too full of thoughts. She could not bear it.
 
“What are you reading, David?” she asked.
 
He laughed and said:
 
“Sentimental poetry, ma’am. Would you have suspected me of it? I find it very soothing6.”
 
“Do you?”
 
She paused, and then said with a flutter in her throat:
 
“Do you ever write poetry now, David? You used to.”
 
“Yes, I remember boring you with it.”
 
He coloured a little as he spoke7.
 
“But since then?”
 
“Oh, yes——”
 
“Show me some——”
 
“Not for the world.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“Poetry is such an awful give away. How any one ever dares to publish any, I don’t know. I suppose they get hardened. But one’s most private letters aren’t a patch on it. One puts down all one’s grumbles8, one’s moonstruck fancies, the ravings of one’s inanest moments. Mine are not for circulation, thanks.”
 
Elizabeth did not laugh. Instead she said, quite seriously,
 
“David, I wish you would show me some of it.”
 
He looked rather surprised, but got up, and presently came back with some papers in his hand, and threw them into her lap.
 
“There. There’s one there that’s rather odd. It’s rotten poetry, but it gave me the oddest feelings when I wrote it. See if it does the same to you,” and he laughed.
 
There were three poems in Elizabeth’s lap. The first was a vigorous bit of work—a ballad9 with a good ballad swing to it. Elizabeth read it and applauded.
 
“This is much better than your old things,” she said, and he was manifestly pleased.
 
The next was a set of clever verses on a political topic of passing interest. Elizabeth laughed over it and laid it aside. Her thoughts were pleasantly diverted. Anything was welcome that brought her nearer to the David of the day.
 
She took up the third poem. It was called:
 
Egypt
 
Egypt sands are burning hot.
 
Burning hot and dry,
 
How they scorched10 us as we worked,
 
Toiling12, you and I,
 
When we built the Pyramid in Egypt.
 
Heaven like hammered brass13 above,
 
Earth like brass below,
 
How the sweat of torment14 ran,
 
All those years ago,
 
When we built the Pyramid in Egypt.
 
When the dreadful day was done,
 
Night was like your eyes,
 
Sweet and cool and comforting—
 
We were very wise,
 
When we built the Pyramid in Egypt.
 
We were very wise, my dear,
 
Children, lovers, gods,
 
Where’s the wisdom that we knew,
 
With our world at odds16,
 
When we built the Pyramid in Egypt?
 
Now your hand is strange to mine,
 
Now you heed17 me not,
 
Life and death and love and pain,
 
You have quite forgot,
 
You have quite forgotten me and Egypt.
 
I would bear it all again,
 
Just to take your hand,
 
Bend my body to the whip,
 
Tread the burning sand,
 
Build another Pyramid in Egypt.
 
Toiling, toiling, all the day,
 
Loving you by night,
 
I’d go back three thousand years
 
If I only might,—
 
Back to toil11 and pain and you and Egypt.
 
When she looked up at the end, David spoke at once.
 
“Well,” he said, “what does it say to you?”
 
“I don’t quite know.”
 
“It set up one of those curious thought-waves. One seems to remember something out of an extraordinarily18 distant past. Have you ever felt it? I believe most people have. There are all sorts of theories to account for it. The two sides of the brain working unequally, and several others. But the impression is common enough, and the theories have been made to fit it. Of course the one that fits most happily is the hopelessly unscientific one of reincarnation. Well, my thought-wave took me back to Egypt and——”
 
He hesitated.
 
“Tell me.”
 
Elizabeth’s voice was eager.
 
“Oh, nothing.”
 
“Yes, tell me.”
 
He laughed at her earnestness.
 
“Well, then—I saw the woman’s eyes.”
 
“Yes.”
 
“They were grey. That’s all. And I thought it odd.”
 
He broke off, and Elizabeth asked no more. She knew very well why he had thought it odd that the woman’s eyes should be grey. The poems were dated, and Egypt bore the date of a year ago. He was in love with Mary then, and Mary’s eyes were dark—dark hazel eyes.
 
That night she woke from a dream of Mary, and heard David whispering a name in his sleep, but she could not catch the name. The old shamed dread15 and horror came upon her, strong and unbroken. She slipped from bed, and stood by the window, panting for breath. And out of the darkness David called to her:
 
 
“Love, where are you gone to?”
 
If he would say her name—if he would only say her name. She had no words to answer him, but she heard him rise and come to her.
 
“Why did you go away?” he said, touching19 her. And as she had done once before, Elizabeth cried out.
 
“Who am I, David?—tell me! Am I Mary?”
 
He repeated the name slowly, and each repetition was a wound.
 
“Mary,” he said, wonderingly, “there is no Mary in the Dream. There are only you and I—and you are Love——”
 
“And if I went out of the Dream?” said Elizabeth, leaning against his breast. The comfort of his touch stole back into her heart. Her breathing steadied.
 
“Then I would come and find you,” said David Blake.
 
It was the next day that Agneta’s letter came. Elizabeth opened it at breakfast and exclaimed.
 
“What is it?”
 
She lifted a face of distress20.
 
“David, should you mind if I were to go away for a little? Agneta wants me.”
 
“Agneta?”
 
“Yes, Agneta Mainwaring. You remember, I used to go and stay with the Mainwarings in Devonshire.”
 
“Yes, I remember. What’s the matter with her?”
 
“She is engaged to Douglas Strange, the explorer, and there are—rumours that his whole party has been massacred. He was working across Africa. She wants me to come to her. I think I must. You don’t mind, do you?”
 
“No, of course not. When do you want to go?”
 
“I should like to go to-day. I could send her a wire,” said Elizabeth. “I hope it’s only a rumour21, and not true, but I must go.”
 
David nodded.
 
“Don’t take it too much to heart, that’s all,” he said.
 
He said good-bye to her before he went out, told her to take care of herself, asked her to write, and inquired if she wanted any money.
 
When he had gone, Elizabeth told herself that this was the end of the Dream. She could drift no more with the tide of that moon-watched sea. She must think things out and come to some decision. Hitherto, if she thought by day, the night with its glamour22 threw over her thoughts a rainbow mist that hid and confused them. Now Agneta needed her, there would be work for her to do. And she would not see David again until she could look her conscience in the face.

点击收听单词发音收听单词发音  

1 shrine 0yfw7     
n.圣地,神龛,庙;v.将...置于神龛内,把...奉为神圣
参考例句:
  • The shrine was an object of pilgrimage.这处圣地是人们朝圣的目的地。
  • They bowed down before the shrine.他们在神龛前鞠躬示敬。
2 bluebells 2aaccf780d4b01be8ef91c7ff0e90896     
n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 )
参考例句:
  • He pressed her down upon the grass, among the fallen bluebells. 他把她压倒在草地上,压倒在掉落满地的风信子花上。 来自英汉文学
  • The bluebells had cascaded on to the ground. 风信子掉到了地上。 来自辞典例句
3 longing 98bzd     
n.(for)渴望
参考例句:
  • Hearing the tune again sent waves of longing through her.再次听到那首曲子使她胸中充满了渴望。
  • His heart burned with longing for revenge.他心中燃烧着急欲复仇的怒火。
4 daze vnyzH     
v.(使)茫然,(使)发昏
参考例句:
  • The blow on the head dazed him for a moment.他头上受了一击后就昏眩了片刻。
  • I like dazing to sit in the cafe by myself on Sunday.星期日爱独坐人少的咖啡室发呆。
5 embroidery Wjkz7     
n.绣花,刺绣;绣制品
参考例句:
  • This exquisite embroidery won people's great admiration.这件精美的绣品,使人惊叹不已。
  • This is Jane's first attempt at embroidery.这是简第一次试着绣花。
6 soothing soothing     
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的
参考例句:
  • Put on some nice soothing music.播放一些柔和舒缓的音乐。
  • His casual, relaxed manner was very soothing.他随意而放松的举动让人很快便平静下来。
7 spoke XryyC     
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说
参考例句:
  • They sourced the spoke nuts from our company.他们的轮辐螺帽是从我们公司获得的。
  • The spokes of a wheel are the bars that connect the outer ring to the centre.辐条是轮子上连接外圈与中心的条棒。
8 grumbles a99c97d620c517b5490044953d545cb1     
抱怨( grumble的第三人称单数 ); 发牢骚; 咕哝; 发哼声
参考例句:
  • He grumbles at his lot instead of resolutely facing his difficulties. 他不是果敢地去面对困难,而是抱怨自己运气不佳。
  • I'm sick of your unending grumbles. 我对你的不断埋怨感到厌烦。
9 ballad zWozz     
n.歌谣,民谣,流行爱情歌曲
参考例句:
  • This poem has the distinctive flavour of a ballad.这首诗有民歌风味。
  • This is a romantic ballad that is pure corn.这是一首极为伤感的浪漫小曲。
10 scorched a5fdd52977662c80951e2b41c31587a0     
烧焦,烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(植物)枯萎,把…晒枯; 高速行驶; 枯焦
参考例句:
  • I scorched my dress when I was ironing it. 我把自己的连衣裙熨焦了。
  • The hot iron scorched the tablecloth. 热熨斗把桌布烫焦了。
11 toil WJezp     
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事
参考例句:
  • The wealth comes from the toil of the masses.财富来自大众的辛勤劳动。
  • Every single grain is the result of toil.每一粒粮食都来之不易。
12 toiling 9e6f5a89c05478ce0b1205d063d361e5     
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉
参考例句:
  • The fiery orator contrasted the idle rich with the toiling working classes. 这位激昂的演说家把无所事事的富人同终日辛劳的工人阶级进行了对比。
  • She felt like a beetle toiling in the dust. She was filled with repulsion. 她觉得自己像只甲虫在地里挣扎,心中涌满愤恨。
13 brass DWbzI     
n.黄铜;黄铜器,铜管乐器
参考例句:
  • Many of the workers play in the factory's brass band.许多工人都在工厂铜管乐队中演奏。
  • Brass is formed by the fusion of copper and zinc.黄铜是通过铜和锌的熔合而成的。
14 torment gJXzd     
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠
参考例句:
  • He has never suffered the torment of rejection.他从未经受过遭人拒绝的痛苦。
  • Now nothing aggravates me more than when people torment each other.没有什么东西比人们的互相折磨更使我愤怒。
15 dread Ekpz8     
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧
参考例句:
  • We all dread to think what will happen if the company closes.我们都不敢去想一旦公司关门我们该怎么办。
  • Her heart was relieved of its blankest dread.她极度恐惧的心理消除了。
16 odds n5czT     
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别
参考例句:
  • The odds are 5 to 1 that she will win.她获胜的机会是五比一。
  • Do you know the odds of winning the lottery once?你知道赢得一次彩票的几率多大吗?
17 heed ldQzi     
v.注意,留意;n.注意,留心
参考例句:
  • You must take heed of what he has told.你要注意他所告诉的事。
  • For the first time he had to pay heed to his appearance.这是他第一次非得注意自己的外表不可了。
18 extraordinarily Vlwxw     
adv.格外地;极端地
参考例句:
  • She is an extraordinarily beautiful girl.她是个美丽非凡的姑娘。
  • The sea was extraordinarily calm that morning.那天清晨,大海出奇地宁静。
19 touching sg6zQ9     
adj.动人的,使人感伤的
参考例句:
  • It was a touching sight.这是一幅动人的景象。
  • His letter was touching.他的信很感人。
20 distress 3llzX     
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛
参考例句:
  • Nothing could alleviate his distress.什么都不能减轻他的痛苦。
  • Please don't distress yourself.请你不要忧愁了。
21 rumour 1SYzZ     
n.谣言,谣传,传闻
参考例句:
  • I should like to know who put that rumour about.我想知道是谁散布了那谣言。
  • There has been a rumour mill on him for years.几年来,一直有谣言产生,对他进行中伤。
22 glamour Keizv     
n.魔力,魅力;vt.迷住
参考例句:
  • Foreign travel has lost its glamour for her.到国外旅行对她已失去吸引力了。
  • The moonlight cast a glamour over the scene.月光给景色增添了魅力。


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