The building stood upon a triple arch of red brick that spanned the stream, and extended from shore to shore, where, on each side, a house of later date stood cheek to jowl with it. It looked but an indifferent affair as viewed from the little bridge aforesaid, which was dedicated1 to St. Swithun of watery2 memory, but in reality extended further backward than one might have suspected. Moreover, to the east side a longish wing, with a ridged roof of tiles, ran off at right angles and added considerably3 to the general dimensions. To the west stood a covered yard, where once the mill wagons4 were packed or unloaded; but this, in all my memory of it, yawned only a dusty spave, given over to the echoes and a couple of ancient cart wheels whose rusty5 tires and worm-pierced hubs were mute evidence of an inglorious decay.
These were for all to see—but behind the walls!
Was the old mill uncanny from the first, or is it only the ghosts with which our generation of passions has peopled it that have made it so? This I can say: That I never remember a time when Jason or I, or even Zyp, dared to be in the room of silence alone—and in company never for more than a few minutes. Modred had not the same awe6 of it, but Modred’s imagination was a swaddled infant. For my father I will not speak. Maybe he was too accustomed to specters to dread7 them.
This room was one on the floor above the water, and the fact that it harbored the mill wheel, whose booming, when in motion, shook the stagnant8 air with discordant9 sounds, may have served as some explanation of its eeriness10. It stood against the east wing and away from the yard, and was a dismal11, dull place, like a loft12, with black beams above going off into darkness. Its only light came from a square little window in front that was bleared with dust and stopped outside with a lacework of wire. Against its western wall was reared a huge box or cage of wood, which was made to contain the upper half of the wheel, with its ratchet and shaft13 that went up to the great stones on the floor above; for the mill race thundered below, and when the great paddles were revolving14 the water slapped and rent at the woodwork.
Now it behooves15 me to mention a strange fancy of my father’s—which was this, that though no grain or husk in our day ever crumbled16 between the stones, the wheel was forever kept in motion, as if our fortunes lay in grinding against impalpable time. The custom was in itself ghostly, and its regularity17 was interrupted only at odd moments, and those generally in the night, when, lying abed upstairs, we boys would become conscious of a temporary cessation of the humming, vibrating noise that was so habitual18 to the place. To this fancy was added a strange solicitude19 on the part of my father for the well-being20 of the wheel itself. He would disappear into the room of silence twice or thrice a day to oil and examine it, and if rarely any tinkering was called for we knew it by the sound of the closing of the sluice21 and of the water rush swerving22 round by another channel.
Now, for the time I have said enough, and with a sigh return to that May afternoon and little Zyp, the changeling.
She followed me into the mill so quietly that I hardly heard her step behind me. When I looked back her eyes were full of a strange speculation23 and her hands crossed on her breast, as if she prayed. She motioned me forward and I obeyed, marveling at my own submission24. I had no slightest idea what I was to say to my father or what propose. We found him seated by the table in the living room upstairs, a bottle and glass before him. The weekly demon25 was beginning to work, but had not yet obtained the mastery. He stared at us as we entered, but said nothing.
Then, to my wonder, Zyp walked straight up to the old man, pulled his arms down, sat upon his knee and kissed his rutted cheek. I gave a gasp26 that was echoed by Jason, who had followed and was leaning against the lintel of the open door. Still my father said nothing and I trembled at the ominous27 silence. At last in desperation I stammered28, and all the time Zyp was caressing29 the passive face.
“Dad, the girl fell into the water and I pulled her out, and here she is.”
Then at length my father said in a harsh, deep voice:
“You pulled her out? What was Jason there doing?”
My father put the girl from him, strode furiously across the room, seized Jason by one arm and gave him several cruel, heavy blows across his shoulders and the back of his head. The boy was half stunned33, but uttered no cry, and at every stroke Zyp laughed and clapped her hands. Then, flinging his victim to the floor, from which he immediately rose again and resumed his former posture34 by the door, pale but unsubdued, my father returned to his seat and held the girl at arm’s length before him.
“Who are you?” he said.
She answered, “A changeling,” in a voice soft as flowers.
“What’s your name?”
“Zyp.”
“Your other name?”
“Never mind; Zyp’s enough.”
“Is it? Where do you come from? What brings you here?”
“Renny brought me here because I love him.”
“Love him? Have you ever met before?”
“No; but he pulled me out of the water.”
“Come—this won’t do. I must know more about you.”
“Shall I tell you? A little, perhaps. I am from a big forest out west there, where wheels drone like hornets among the trees and black men rise out of the ground. I have no father or mother, for I come of the fairies. Those who stood for them married late and had a baby and they delayed to christen it. One day the baby was gone and I was there. They knew me for a changeling from the first and didn’t love me. But I lived with them for all that and they got to hate me more and more. Not a cow died or a gammer was wryed wi’ the rheumatics but I had done it. Bit by bit the old man lost all his trade and loved me none the more, I can tell you. He was a Beast Leech38, and where was the use of the forest folk sending for him to mend their sick kine when he kept a changeling to undo39 it all? At last they could stand no more of it and the woman brought me away and lost me.”
“Lost you?” echoed my father.
“Oh,” said Zyp, with a little cluck, “I knew all along how the tramp was to end. There was an old one, a woman, lived in the forest, and she told me a deal of things. She knew me better than them all, and I loved her because she was evil, so they said. She told me some rhymes and plenty of other things.”
“Well?” said my father.
“We walked east by the sun for days and days. Then we came to the top of a big, soft hill, where little beetles40 were hopping41 among the grass, and below us was a great town like stones in a green old quarry42, and the woman said: ‘Run down and ask the name of it while I rest here.’ And I ran with the wind in my face and was joyful43, for I knew that she would escape when I was gone, and I should never see her again.”
“And then you tumbled into the water?” said my father.
Zyp nodded.
“And now,” she said, “I belong to nobody, and will you have me?”
My father shook his head, and in a moment sobs44 most piteous were shaking the girl’s throat. So forlorn and pretty a sight I have never seen before or since.
“Well,” he said, “if nobody comes to claim you, you may stop.”
And stop Zyp did. Surely was never an odder coming, yet from that day she was one of us.
What was truthful45 and what imaginative in her story I have never known, for from first to last this was the most we heard of it.
One thing was certain. Zyp was by nature a child of the open air and the sun. Flowers that were wild she loved—not those that were cultivated, however beautiful, of which she was indifferent—and she had an unspeakable imagination in reading their fanciful histories and a strange faculty46 for fondling them, as it were, into sentient47 beings. I can hardly claim belief when I say that I have seen a rough nettle48 fade when she scolded it for stinging her finger, or a little yellow rock rose turn from the sun to her when she talked to it.
Zyp never plucked a flower, or allowed us to do so if she could prevent it. I well remember the first walk I took with her after her establishment in the mill, when I was attracted by a rare little blossom, the water chickweed, which sprouted49 from a grassy50 trench51, and pulled it for her behoof. She beat me savagely52 with her soft hands, then fell to kissing and weeping over the torn little weed, which actually appeared to revive a moment under her caresses53. I had to promise with humility54 never to gather another wild flower so long as I lived, and I have been faithful to my trust.
The afternoon of her coming old Peg55 rigged her up some description of sleeping accommodation in a little room in the attic56, and this became her sanctuary57 whenever she wished to escape us and be alone. To my father she was uniformly sweet and coaxing36, and he for his part took a strange fancy to her, and abated58 somewhat of his demoniacal moodiness59 from the date of her arrival.
Yet it must not be imagined, from this description of her softer side, that Zyp was all tender pliability60. On the contrary, in her general relations with us and others as impure61 human beings, she was the veritable soul of impishness, and played a thousand pranks62 to prove her title to her parentage.
At first she made a feint of distributing her smiles willfully, by turn, between Modred and me, so that neither of us might claim precedence. But Jason was admitted to no pretense63 of rivalry64; though, to do him justice, he at once took the upper hand by meeting scorn with indifference65. In my heart, however, I claimed her as my especial property; a demand justified66, I felt no doubt, by her manner toward me, which was marked by a peculiar67 rebellious68 tenderness she showed to no other.
The day after her arrival she asked me to take her over the mill and show her everything. I complied when the place was empty of all save us. We explored room by room, with a single exception, the ancient building.
Of course Zyp said: “There’s a room you haven’t shown me, Renny.”
“Yes,” said I; “the room of silence.”
“Why didn’t we go there?”
“Never mind. There’s something wicked in it.”
“What? Do tell me! Oh, I should love to see!”
“There’s nothing to see. Let it alone, can’t you?”
“You’re a coward. I’ll get the sleepy boy to show me.”
“Come along then,” I said, and, seizing her hand, dragged her roughly indoors.
We crossed a dark passage, and, pushing back a heavy door of ancient timber, stood on the threshold of the room of silence. It was not in nature’s meaning that the name was bestowed69, for, entering, the full voice of the wheel broke upon one with a grinding fury that shook the moldering boards of the floor.
“Well,” I whispered, “have you seen enough?”
“I see nothing,” she cried, with a shrill70, defiant30 laugh; “I am going in”—and before I could stop her, she had run into the middle of the room and was standing71 still in the bar of sunlight, with her arms outspread like wings, and her face, the lips apart, lifted with an expression on it of eager inquiry72.
What happened? I can find an image only in the poison bottle of the entomologist. As some shining, flower-stained butterfly, slipped into this glass coffin73, quivers, droops74 its wings and fades, as it were, in a moment before its capturer’s eyes, so Zyp faded before mine. Her arms dropped to her sides, her figure seemed as if its whole buoyancy were gone at a touch, her face fell to a waxen color and “Oh, take me away!” she wailed75 in a thin, strangled voice.
I conquered my terror, rushed to her, and, dragging her stumbling and tripping from the room, banged to the door behind us and made for the little platform once more and the open air.
She revived in a wonderfully short space of time, and, lifting up her head, looked into my eyes with her own wide with dismay.
“It was hideous,” she whispered; “why didn’t you stop me?”
Zyp, it will be seen, was not all elf. She had something in common with her sex.
“I warned you,” I said, “and I know what you felt.”
“It was as if a question was being asked of me,” she said, in a low voice. “And yet no one spoke76 and there was no question. I don’t know what it wanted or what were the words, for there were none; but I feel as if I shall have to go on thinking of the answer and struggling to find it forever and ever.”
“Yes,” I whispered, in the same tone; “that is what everybody says.”
She begged me not to follow her, and crept away quite humbled77 and subdued35, and we none of us saw more of her that day. But just as she left me she turned and whispered in awe-stricken tone, “Answer what speaks to thee,” and I could not remember when and where I had heard these words before.
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1
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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2
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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3
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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4
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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5
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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6
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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7
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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8
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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9
discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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10
eeriness
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| n.怪诞，胆怯，阴森 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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12
loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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13
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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14
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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15
behooves
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| n.利益，好处( behoof的名词复数 )v.适宜( behoove的第三人称单数 ) | |
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16
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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17
regularity
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| n.规律性，规则性；匀称，整齐 | |
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18
habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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19
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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20
well-being
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| n.安康，安乐，幸福 | |
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21
sluice
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| n.水闸 | |
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22
swerving
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的现在分词 ) | |
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23
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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24
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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25
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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26
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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27
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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28
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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32
forestalling
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的现在分词 ) | |
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33
stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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34
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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35
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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36
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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37
coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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38
leech
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| n.水蛭，吸血鬼，榨取他人利益的人；vt.以水蛭吸血；vi.依附于别人 | |
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39
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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40
beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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41
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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42
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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43
joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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44
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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45
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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46
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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47
sentient
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| adj.有知觉的，知悉的；adv.有感觉能力地 | |
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48
nettle
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| n.荨麻；v.烦忧，激恼 | |
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49
sprouted
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| v.发芽( sprout的过去式和过去分词 )；抽芽；出现；（使）涌现出 | |
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50
grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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51
trench
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| n./v.(挖)沟，(挖)战壕 | |
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52
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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53
caresses
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| 爱抚，抚摸( caress的名词复数 ) | |
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54
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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55
peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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56
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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57
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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58
abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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59
moodiness
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| n.喜怒无常；喜怒无常，闷闷不乐；情绪 | |
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60
pliability
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| n.柔韧性；可弯性 | |
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61
impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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62
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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63
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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64
rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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65
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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66
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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67
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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68
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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69
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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71
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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72
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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73
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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74
droops
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的名词复数 ) | |
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75
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
spoke
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| 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 | |
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77
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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