The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第35章

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to　hurt　her　womb；　to　take　pleasure　in　torturing　her。

He　came　into　the　house。　The　sound　of　his　footsteps　in　his
heavy　boots　filled　her　with　horror：　a　hard；　cruel；　malignant
sound。　She　was　afraid　he　would　e　upstairs。　But　he　did　not。
She　waited　apprehensively。　He　went　out。

Where　she　was　most　vulnerable；　he　hurt　her。　Oh；　where　she　was
delivered　over　to　him；　in　her　very　soft　femaleness；　he　seemed　to
lacerate　her　and　desecrate　her。　She　pressed　her　hands　over　her
womb　in　anguish；　whilst　the　tears　ran　down　her　face。　And　why；
and　why？　Why　was　he　like　this？

Suddenly　she　dried　her　tears。　She　must　get　the　tea　ready。　She
went　downstairs　and　set　the　table。　When　the　meal　was　ready；　she
called　to　him。

〃I've　mashed　the　tea；　Will；　are　you　ing？〃

She　herself　could　hear　the　sound　of　tears　in　her　own　voice；
and　she　began　to　cry　again。　He　did　not　answer；　but　went　on　with
his　work。　She　waited　a　few　minutes；　in　anguish。　Fear　came　over
her；　she　was　panic…stricken　with　terror；　like　a　child；　and　she
could　not　go　home　again　to　her　father；　she　was　held　by　the　power
in　this　man　who　had　taken　her。

She　turned　indoors　so　that　he　should　not　see　her　tears。　She
sat　down　to　table。　Presently　he　came　into　the　scullery。　His
movements　jarred　on　her；　as　she　heard　them。　How　horrible　was　the
way　he　pumped；　exacerbating；　so　cruel！　How　she　hated　to　hear
him！　How　he　hated　her！　How　his　hatred　was　like　blows　upon　her！
The　tears　were　ing　again。

He　came　in；　his　face　wooden　and　lifeless；　fixed；　persistent。
He　sat　down　to　tea；　his　head　dropped　over　his　cup；　uglily。　His
hands　were　red　from　the　cold　water；　and　there　were　rims　of　earth
in　his　nails。　He　went　on　with　his　tea。

It　was　his　negative　insensitiveness　to　her　that　she　could　not
bear；　something　clayey　and　ugly。　His　intelligence　was
self…absorbed。　How　unnatural　it　was　to　sit　with　a　self…absorbed
creature；　like　something　negative　ensconced　opposite　one。
Nothing　could　touch　him……he　could　only　absorb　things　into
his　own　self。

The　tears　were　running　down　her　face。　Something　startled　him；
and　he　was　looking　up　at　her　with　his　hateful；　hard；　bright
eyes；　hard　and　unchanging　as　a　bird　of　prey。

〃What　are　you　crying　for？〃　came　the　grating　voice。

She　winced　through　her　womb。　She　could　not　stop　crying。

〃What　are　you　crying　for？〃　came　the　question　again；　in　just
the　same　tone。　And　still　there　was　silence；　with　only　the　sniff
of　her　tears。

His　eyes　glittered；　and　as　if　with　malignant　desire。　She
shrank　and　became　blind。　She　was　like　a　bird　being　beaten　down。
A　sort　of　swoon　of　helplessness　came　over　her。　She　was　of
another　order　than　he；　she　had　no　defence　against　him。　Against
such　an　influence；　she　was　only　vulnerable；　she　was　given
up。

He　rose　and　went　out　of　the　house；　possessed　by　the　evil
spirit。　It　tortured　him　and　wracked　him；　and　fought　in　him。　And
whilst　he　worked；　in　the　deepening　twilight；　it　left　him。
Suddenly　he　saw　that　she　was　hurt。　He　had　only　seen　her
triumphant　before。　Suddenly　his　heart　was　torn　with　passion
for　her。　He　became　alive　again；　in　an　anguish　of　passion。　He
could　not　bear　to　think　of　her　tears……he　could　not　bear　it。
He　wanted　to　go　to　her　and　pour　out　his　heart's　blood　to　her。　He
wanted　to　give　everything　to　her；　all　his　blood；　his　life；　to
the　last　dregs；　pour　everything　away　to　her。　He　yearned　with
passionate　desire　to　offer　himself　to　her；　utterly。

The　evening　star　came；　and　the　night。　She　had　not　lighted　the
lamp。　His　heart　burned　with　pain　and　with　grief。　He　trembled　to
go　to　her。

And　at　last　he　went；　hesitating；　burdened　with　a　great
offering。　The　hardness　had　gone　out　of　him；　his　body　was
sensitive；　slightly　trembling。　His　hand　was　curiously　sensitive；
shrinking；　as　he　shut　the　door。　He　fixed　the　latch　almost
tenderly。

In　the　kitchen　was　only　the　fireglow；　he　could　not　see　her。
He　quivered　with　dread　lest　she　had　gone……he　knew　not
where。　In　shrinking　dread；　he　went　through　to　the　parlour；　to
the　foot　of　the　stairs。

〃Anna；〃　he　called。

There　was　no　answer。　He　went　up　the　stairs；　in　dread　of　the
empty　house……the　horrible　emptiness　that　made　his　heart
ring　with　insanity。　He　opened　the　bedroom　door；　and　his　heart
flashed　with　certainty　that　she　had　gone；　that　he　was　alone。

But　he　saw　her　on　the　bed；　lying　very　still　and　scarcely
noticeable；　with　her　back　to　him。　He　went　and　put　his　hand　on
her　shoulder；　very　gently；　hesitating；　in　a　great　fear　and
self…offering。　She　did　not　move。

He　waited。　The　hand　that　touched　her　shoulder　hurt　him；　as　if
she　were　sending　it　away。　He　stood　dim　with　pain。

〃Anna；〃　he　said。

But　still　she　was　motionless；　like　a　curled　up；　oblivious
creature。　His　heart　beat　with　strange　throes　of　pain。　Then；　by　a
motion　under　his　hand；　he　knew　she　was　crying；　holding　herself
hard　so　that　her　tears　should　not　be　known。　He　waited。　The
tension　continued……perhaps　she　was　not　crying……then
suddenly　relapsed　with　a　sharp　catch　of　a　sob。　His　heart　flamed
with　love　and　suffering　for　her。　Kneeling　carefully　on　the　bed；
so　that　his　earthy　boots　should　not　touch　it；　he　took　her　in　his
arms　to　fort　her。　The　sobs　gathered　in　her；　she　was　sobbing
bitterly。　But　not　to　him。　She　was　still　away　from　him。

He　held　her　against　his　breast；　whilst　she　sobbed；　withheld
from　him；　and　all　his　body　vibrated　against　her。

〃Don't　cry……don't　cry；〃　he　said；　with　an　odd　simplicity。
His　heart　was　calm　and　numb　with　a　sort　of　innocence　of　love；
now。

She　still　sobbed；　ignoring　him；　ignoring　that　he　held　her。
His　lips　were　dry。

〃Don't　cry；　my　love；〃　he　said；　in　the　same　abstract　way。　In
his　breast　his　heart　burned　like　a　torch；　with　suffering。　He
could　not　bear　the　desolateness　of　her　crying。　He　would　have
soothed　her　with　his　blood。　He　heard　the　church　clock　chime；　as
if　it　touched　him；　and　he　waited　in　suspense　for　it　to　have　gone
by。　It　was　quiet　again。

〃My　love；〃　he　said　to　her；　bending　to　touch　her　wet　face　with
his　mouth。　He　was　afraid　to　touch　her。　How　wet　her　face　was！　His
body　trembled　as　he　held　her。　He　loved　her　till　he　felt　his
heart　and　all　his　veins　would　burst　and　flood　her　with　his　hot；
healing　blood。　He　knew　his　blood　would　heal　and　restore　her。

She　was　being　quieter。　He　thanked　the　God　of　mercy　that　at
last　she　was　being　quieter。　His　head　felt　so　strange　and
blazed。　Still　he　held　her　close；　with　trembling　arms。　His　blood
seemed　very　strong；　enveloping　her。

And　at　last　she　began　to　draw　near　to　him；　she　nestled　to
him。　His　limbs；　his　body；　took　fire　and　beat　up　in　flames。　She
clung　to　him；　she　cleaved　to　his　body。　The　flames　swept　him；　he
held　her　in　sinews　of　fire。　If　she　would　kiss　him！　He　bent　his
mouth　down。　And　her　mouth；　soft　and　moist；　received　him。　He　felt
his　veins　would　burst　with　anguish　of　thankfulness；　his　heart
was　mad　with　gratefulness；　he　could　pour　himself　out　upon　her
for　ever。

When　they　came　to　themselves；　the　night　was　very　dark。　Two
hours　had　gone　by。　They　lay　still　and　warm　and　weak；　like　the
new…born；　together。　And　there　was　a　silence　almost　of　the
unborn。　Only　his　heart　was　weeping　happily；　after　the　pain。　He
did　not　understand；　he　had　yielded；　given　way。　There　was
no　understanding。　There　could　be　only　acquiescence　and
submission；　and　tremulous　wonder　of　consummation。

The　next　morning；　when　they　woke　up；　it　had　snowed。　He
wondered　what　was　the　strange　pallor　in　the　air；　and　the　unusual
tang。　Snow　was　on　the　grass　and　the　window…sill；　it　weighed　down
the　black；　ragged　branches　of　the　yews；　and　smoothed　the　graves
in　the　churchyard。

Soon；　it　began　to　snow　again；　and　they　were　shut　in。　He　was
glad；　for　then　they　were　immune　in　a　shadowy　silence；　there　was
no　world；　no　time。

The　snow　lasted　for　some　days。　On　the　Sunday　they　went　to
church。　They　made　a　line　of　footprints　across　the　garden；　he
left　a　flat　snowprint　of　his　hand　on　the　wall　as　he　vaulted
over；　they　traced　the　snow　across　the　churchyard。　For　three　days
they　had　been　immune　in　a　perfect　love。

There　were　very　few　people　in　church；　and　she　was　glad。　She
did　not　care　much　for　church。　She　had　never　questioned　any
beliefs；　and　she　was；　from　habit　and　custom；　a　regular　attendant
at　morning　service。　But　she　had　ceased　to　e　with　any
anticipation。　To…day；　however；　in　the　strangeness　of　snow；　after
such　consummation　of　love；　she　felt　expectant　again；　and
delighted。　She　was　still　in　the　eternal　world。

She　used；　after　she　went　to　the　High　School；　and　wanted　to　be
a　lady；　wanted　to　fulfil　some　mysterious　ideal；　always　to　listen
to　the　sermon　and　to　try　to　gather　suggestions。　That　was　all
very　well　for　a　while。　The　vicar　told　her　to　be　good　in　this　way
and　in　that。　She　went　away　feeling　it　was　her　highest　aim　to
fulfil　these　injunctions。

But　quickly　this　palled。　After　a　short　time；　she　was　not　very
much　interested　in　being　good。　Her　soul　was　in　quest　of
something；　which　was　not　just　being　good；　and　doing　one's　best。
No；　she　wanted　something　else：　something　that　was　not　her
ready…made　duty。　Everything　seemed　to　be　merely　a　matter　of
social　duty；　and　never　of　her　self。　They　talked　about　her　soul；
but　somehow　never　managed　to　rouse　or　to　implicate　her　soul。　As
yet　her　soul　was　not　brought　in　at　all。

So　that　whilst　she　had　an　a