The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第112章

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was　accepted。　The　marriage　took　place　quietly　within　fourteen
days'　time。　Ursula　was　not　notified　of　the　event。　In　another
week；　Skrebensky　sailed　with　his　new　wife　to　India。



CHAPTER　XVI

THE　RAINBOW

Ursula　went　home　to　Beldover　faint；　dim；　closed　up。　She　could
scarcely　speak　or　notice。　It　was　as　if　her　energy　were　frozen。
Her　people　asked　her　what　was　the　matter。　She　told　them　she　had
broken　off　the　engagement　with　Skrebensky。　They　looked　blank　and
angry。　But　she　could　not　feel　any　more。

The　weeks　crawled　by　in　apathy。　He　would　have　sailed　for
India　now。　She　was　scarcely　interested。　She　was　inert；　without
strength　or　interest。

Suddenly　a　shock　ran　through　her；　so　violent　that　she　thought
she　was　struck　down。　Was　she　with　child？　She　had　been　so
stricken　under　the　pain　of　herself　and　of　him；　this　had　never
occurred　to　her。　Now　like　a　flame　it　took　hold　of　her　limbs　and
body。　Was　she　with　child？

In　the　first　flaming　hours　of　wonder；　she　did　not　know　what
she　felt。　She　was　as　if　tied　to　the　stake。　The　flames　were
licking　her　and　devouring　her。　But　the　flames　were　also　good。
They　seemed　to　wear　her　away　to　rest。　What　she　felt　in　her　heart
and　her　womb　she　did　not　know。　It　was　a　kind　of　swoon。

Then　gradually　the　heaviness　of　her　heart　pressed　and　pressed
into　consciousness。　What　was　she　doing？　Was　she　bearing　a　child？
Bearing　a　child？　To　what？

Her　flesh　thrilled；　but　her　soul　was　sick。　It　seemed；　this
child；　like　the　seal　set　on　her　own　nullity。　Yet　she　was　glad　in
her　flesh　that　she　was　with　child。　She　began　to　think；　that　she
would　write　to　Skrebensky；　that　she　would　go　out　to　him；　and
marry　him；　and　live　simply　as　a　good　wife　to　him。　What　did　the
self；　the　form　of　life　matter？　Only　the　living　from　day　to　day
mattered；　the　beloved　existence　in　the　body；　rich；　peaceful；
plete；　with　no　beyond；　no　further　trouble；　no　further
plication。　She　had　been　wrong；　she　had　been　arrogant　and
wicked；　wanting　that　other　thing；　that　fantastic　freedom；　that
illusory；　conceited　fulfilment　which　she　had　imagined　she　could
not　have　with　Skrebensky。　Who　was　she　to　be　wanting　some
fantastic　fulfilment　in　her　life？　Was　it　not　enough　that　she　had
her　man；　her　children；　her　place　of　shelter　under　the　sun？　Was
it　not　enough　for　her；　as　it　had　been　enough　for　her　mother？　She
would　marry　and　love　her　husband　and　fill　her　place　simply。　That
was　the　ideal。

Suddenly　she　saw　her　mother　in　a　just　and　true　light。　Her
mother　was　simple　and　radically　true。　She　had　taken　the　life
that　was　given。　She　had　not；　in　her　arrogant　conceit；　insisted
on　creating　life　to　fit　herself。　Her　mother　was　right；
profoundly　right；　and　she　herself　had　been　false；　trashy；
conceited。

A　great　mood　of　humility　came　over　her；　and　in　this　humility
a　bondaged　sort　of　peace。　She　gave　her　limbs　to　the　bondage；　she
loved　the　bondage；　she　called　it　peace。　In　this　state　she　sat
down　to　write　to　Skrebensky。

Since　you　left　me　I　have　suffered　a　great　deal；　and　so　have
e　to　myself。　I　cannot　tell　you　the　remorse　I　feel　for　my
wicked；　perverse　behaviour。　It　was　given　to　me　to　love　you；　and
to　know　your　love　for　me。　But　instead　of　thankfully；　on　my
knees；　taking　what　God　had　given　me；　I　must　have　the　moon　in　my
keeping；　I　must　insist　on　having　the　moon　for　my　own。　Because　I
could　not　have　it；　everything　else　must　go。

I　do　not　know　if　you　can　ever　forgive　me。　I　could　die　with
shame　to　think　of　my　behaviour　with　you　during　our　last　times；
and　I　don't　know　if　I　could　ever　bear　to　look　you　in　the　face
again。　Truly　the　best　thing　would　be　for　me　to　die；　and　cover　my
fantasies　for　ever。　But　I　find　I　am　with　child；　so　that　cannot
be。

It　is　your　child；　and　for　that　reason　I　must　revere　it　and
submit　my　body　entirely　to　its　welfare；　entertaining　no　thought
of　death；　which　once　more　is　largely　conceit。　Therefore；　because
you　once　loved　me；　and　because　this　child　is　your　child；　I　ask
you　to　have　me　back。　If　you　will　cable　me　one　word；　I　will　e
to　you　as　soon　as　I　can。　I　swear　to　you　to　be　a　dutiful　wife；
and　to　serve　you　in　all　things。　For　now　I　only　hate　myself　and
my　own　conceited　foolishness。　I　love　you……I　love　the
thought　of　you……you　were　natural　and　decent　all　through；
whilst　I　was　so　false。　Once　I　am　with　you　again；　I　shall　ask　no
more　than　to　rest　in　your　shelter　all　my　life

This　letter　she　wrote；　sentence　by　sentence；　as　if　from　her
deepest；　sincerest　heart。　She　felt　that　now；　now；　she　was　at　the
depths　of　herself。　This　was　her　true　self；　forever。　With　this
document　she　would　appear　before　God　at　the　Judgment　Day。

For　what　had　a　woman　but　to　submit？　What　was　her　flesh　but
for　childbearing；　her　strength　for　her　children　and　her　husband；
the　giver　of　life？　At　last　she　was　a　woman。

She　posted　her　letter　to　his　club；　to　be　forwarded　to　him　in
Calcutta。　He　would　receive　it　soon　after　his　arrival　in
India……within　three　weeks　of　his　arrival　there。　In　a
month's　time　she　would　receive　word　from　him。　Then　she　would
go。

She　。　She　thought　only　of　preparing　her
garments　and　of　living　quietly；　peacefully；　till　the　time　when
she　should　join　him　again　and　her　history　would　be　concluded　for
ever。　The　peace　held　like　an　unnatural　calm　for　a　long　time。　She
was　aware；　however；　of　a　gathering　restiveness；　a　tumult
impending　within　her。　She　tried　to　run　away　from　it。　She　wished
she　could　hear　from　Skrebensky；　in　answer　to　her　letter；　so　that
her　course　should　be　resolved；　she　should　be　engaged　in
fulfilling　her　fate。　It　was　this　inactivity　which　made　her
liable　to　the　revulsion　she　dreaded。

It　was　curious　how　little　she　cared　about　his　not　having
written　to　her　before。　It　was　enough　that　she　had　sent　her
letter。　She　would　get　the　required　answer；　that　was　all。

One　afternoon　in　early　October；　feeling　the　seething　rising
to　madness　within　her；　she　slipped　out　in　the　rain；　to　walk
abroad；　lest　the　house　should　suffocate　her。　Everywhere　was
drenched　wet　and　deserted；　the　grimed　houses　glowed　dull　red；
the　butt　houses　burned　scarlet　in　a　gleam　of　light；　under　the
glistening；　blackish　purple　slates。　Ursula　went　on　towards
Willey　Green。　She　lifted　her　face　and　walked　swiftly；　seeing　the
passage　of　light　across　the　shallow　valley；　seeing　the　colliery
and　its　clouds　of　steam　for　a　moment　visionary　in　dim
brilliance；　away　in　the　chaos　of　rain。　Then　the　veils　closed
again。　She　was　glad　of　the　rain's　privacy　and　intimacy。

Making　on　towards　the　wood；　she　saw　the　pale　gleam　of　Willey
Water　through　the　cloud　below；　she　walked　the　open　space　where
hawthorn　trees　streamed　like　hair　on　the　wind　and　round　bushes
were　presences　slowing　through　the　atmosphere。　It　was　very
splendid；　free　and　chaotic。

Yet　she　hurried　to　the　wood　for　shelter。　There；　the　vast
booming　overhead　vibrated　down　and　encircled　her；　tree…trunks
spanned　the　circle　of　tremendous　sound；　myriads　of　tree…trunks；
enormous　and　streaked　black　with　water；　thrust　like　stanchions
upright　between　the　roaring　overhead　and　the　sweeping　of　the
circle　underfoot。　She　glided　between　the　tree…trunks；　afraid　of
them。　They　might　turn　and　shut　her　in　as　she　went　through　their
martialled　silence。

So　she　flitted　along；　keeping　an　illusion　that　she　was
unnoticed。　She　felt　like　a　bird　that　has　flown　in　through　the
window　of　a　hall　where　vast　warriors　sit　at　the　board。　Between
their　grave；　booming　ranks　she　was　hastening；　assuming　she　was
unnoticed；　till　she　emerged；　with　beating　heart；　through　the　far
window　and　out　into　the　open；　upon　the　vivid　green；　marshy
meadow。

She　turned　under　the　shelter　of　the　mon；　seeing　the　great
veils　of　rain　swinging　with　slow；　floating　waves　across　the
landscape。　She　was　very　wet　and　a　long　way　from　home；　far
enveloped　in　the　rain　and　the　waving　landscape。　She　must　beat
her　way　back　through　all　this　fluctuation；　back　to　stability　and
security。

A　solitary　thing；　she　took　the　track　straight　across　the
wilderness；　going　back。　The　path　was　a　narrow　groove　in　the　turf
between　high；　sere；　tussocky　grass；　it　was　scarcely　more　than　a
rabbit　run。　So　she　moved　swiftly　along；　watching　her　footing；
going　like　a　bird　on　the　wind；　with　no　thought；　contained　in
motion。　But　her　heart　had　a　small；　living　seed　of　fear；　as　she
went　through　the　wash　of　hollow　space。

Suddenly　she　knew　there　was　something　else。　Some　horses　were
looming　in　the　rain；　not　near　yet。　But　they　were　going　to　be
near。　She　continued　her　path；　inevitably。　They　were　horses　in
the　lee　of　a　clump　of　trees　beyond；　above　her。　She　pursued　her
way　with　bent　head。　She　did　not　want　to　lift　her　face　to　them。
She　did　not　want　to　know　they　were　there。　She　went　on　in　the
wild　track。

She　knew　the　heaviness　on　her　heart。　It　was　the　weight　of　the
horses。　But　she　would　circumvent　them。　She　would　bear　the　weight
steadily；　and　so　escape。　She　would　go　straight　on；　and　on；　and
be　gone　by。

Suddenly　the　weight　deepened　and　her　heart　grew　tense　to　bear
it。　Her　breathing　was　laboured。　But　this　weight　also　she　could
bear。　She　knew　without　looking　that　the　horses　were　moving
nearer。　What　were　they？　She　felt　the　thud　of　their　heavy　hoofs
on　the　ground。　What　was　it　that　was　drawing　near　her；　what
weight　oppressing　her　heart？　She　did　not　know；　she