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villa rubein and other stories-第37章

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low tones。  To hear their voices brought back the touch of this world

of everyday which had no part or lot in the terrifying powers within

her。



Dawney slept at the Villa now。  In the dead of night he was awakened

by a light flashed in his eyes。  Christian was standing there; her

face pale and wild with terror; her hair falling in dark masses on

her shoulders。



〃Save him!  Save him!〃 she cried。  〃Quick! The bleeding!〃



He saw her muffle her face in her white sleeves; and seizing the

candle; leaped out of bed and rushed away。



The internal haemorrhage had come again; and Nicholas Treffry wavered

between life and death。  When it had ceased; he sank into a sort of

stupor。  About six o'clock he came back to consciousness; watching

his eyes; they could see a mental struggle taking place within him。

At last he singled Christian out from the others by a sign。



〃I'm beat; Chris;〃 he whispered。  〃Let him know; I want to see him。〃



His voice grew a little stronger。  〃I thought that I could see it

throughbut here's the end。〃  He lifted his hand ever so little; and

let it fall again。  When told a little later that a telegram had been

sent to Harz his eyes expressed satisfaction。



Herr Paul came down in ignorance of the night's events。  He stopped

in front of the barometer and tapped it; remarking to Miss Naylor:

〃The glass has gone downstairs; we shall have cool weatherit will

still go well with him!〃



When; with her brown face twisted by pity and concern; she told him

that it was a question of hours; Herr Paul turned first purple; then

pale; and sitting down; trembled violently。  〃I cannot believe it;〃

he exclaimed almost angrily。  〃Yesterday he was so well!  I cannot

believe it!  Poor Nicholas!  Yesterday he spoke to me!〃  Taking Miss

Naylor's hand; he clutched it in his own。  〃Ah!〃 he cried; letting it

go suddenly; and striking at his forehead; 〃it is too terrible; only

yesterday he spoke to me of sherry。  Is there nobody; then; who can

do good?〃



〃There is only God;〃 replied Miss Naylor softly。



〃God?〃 said Herr Paul in a scared voice。



〃Wecanallpray to Him;〃 Miss Naylor murmured; little spots of

colour came into her cheeks。  〃I am going to do it now。〃



Herr Paul raised her hand and kissed it。



〃Are you?〃 he said; 〃good! I too。〃  He passed through his study door;

closed it carefully behind him; then for some unknown reason set his

back against it。  Ugh! Death! It came to all! Some day it would come

to him。  It might come tomorrow!  One must pray!



The day dragged to its end。  In the sky clouds had mustered; and;

crowding close on one another; clung round the sun; soft; thick;

greywhite; like the feathers on a pigeon's breast。  Towards evening

faint tremblings were felt at intervals; as from the shock of

immensely distant earthquakes。



Nobody went to bed that night; but in the morning the report was the

same: 〃Unconsciousa question of hours。〃  Once only did he recover

consciousness; and then asked for Harz。  A telegram had come from

him; he was on the way。  Towards seven of the evening the long…

expected storm broke in a sky like ink。  Into the valleys and over

the crests of mountains it seemed as though an unseen hand were

spilling goblets of pale wine; darting a sword…blade zigzag over

trees; roofs; spires; peaks; into the very firmament; which answered

every thrust with great bursts of groaning。  Just beyond the veranda

Greta saw a glowworm shining; as it might be a tiny bead of the

fallen lightning。  Soon the rain covered everything。  Sometimes a jet

of light brought the hilltops; towering; dark; and hard; over the

house; to disappear again behind the raindrops and shaken leaves。

Each breath drawn by the storm was like the clash of a thousand

cymbals; and in his room Mr。 Treffry lay unconscious of its fury。



Greta had crept in unobserved; and sat curled in a corner; with

Scruff in her arms; rocking slightly to and fro。  When Christian

passed; she caught her skirt; and whispered: 〃It is your birthday;

Chris!〃



Mr。 Treffry stirred。



〃What's that?  Thunder?it's cooler。  Where am I?  Chris!〃



Dawney signed for her to take his place。



〃Chris!〃 Mr。 Treffry said。  〃It's near now。〃  She bent across him;

and her tears fell on his forehead。



〃Forgive!〃 she whispered; 〃love me!〃



He raised his finger; and touched her cheek。



For an hour or more he did not speak; though once or twice he moaned;

and faintly tightened his pressure on her fingers。  The storm had

died away; but very far off the thunder was still muttering。



His eyes opened once more; rested on her; and passed beyond; into

that abyss dividing youth from age; conviction from conviction; life

from death。



At the foot of the bed Dawney stood covering his face; behind him

Dominique knelt with hands held upwards; the sound of Greta's

breathing; soft in sleep; rose and fell in the stillness。









XXIX



One afternoon in March; more than three years after Mr。 Treffry's

death; Christian was sitting at the window of a studio in St。 John's

Wood。  The sky was covered with soft; high clouds; through which

shone little gleams of blue。  Now and then a bright shower fell;

sprinkling the trees; where every twig was curling upwards as if

waiting for the gift of its new leaves。  And it seemed to her that

the boughs thickened and budded under her very eyes; a great

concourse of sparrows had gathered on those boughs; and kept raising

a shrill chatter。  Over at the far side of the room Harz was working

at a picture。



On Christian's face was the quiet smile of one who knows that she has

only to turn her eyes to see what she wishes to see; of one whose

possessions are safe under her hand。  She looked at Harz with that

possessive smile。  But as into the brain of one turning in his bed

grim fancies will suddenly leap up out of warm nothingness; so there

leaped into her mind the memory of that long ago dawn; when he had

found her kneeling by Mr。 Treffry's body。  She seemed to see again

the dead face; so gravely quiet; and furrowless。  She seemed to see

her lover and herself setting forth silently along the river wall

where they had first met; sitting down; still silent; beneath the

poplar…tree where the little bodies of the chafers had lain strewn in

the Spring。  To see the trees changing from black to grey; from grey

to green; and in the dark sky long white lines of cloud; lighting to

the south like birds; and; very far away; rosy peaks watching the

awakening of the earth。  And now once again; after all that time;

she felt her spirit shrink away from his; as it had shrunk in that

hour; when she had seemed hateful to herself。  She remembered the

words she had spoken: 〃I have no heart left。  You've torn it in two

between you。  Love is all selfI wanted him to die。〃  She remembered

too the raindrops on the vines like a million tiny lamps; and the

throstle that began singing。  Then; as dream
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