gs.earthabides-第66节

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　　Only；　when　she　had　gone；　he　said　to　himself；　now　that　he　could　think　a　little；　〃She　will　break！　Some　time　she　must　break！　She　may　not　get　the　fever。　We　may　hope　for　that　good　luck！　But　she　cannot　carry　the　burden　for　all　of　us。〃　
　　Now　he　realized　more　of　what　was　happening。　There　had　been　deaths；　he　knew；　but　not　who　or　how　many。　He　dared　not　ask。　
　　Once　he　heard　Jeanie　e；　wailing　hysterically　at　the　death　of　a　child；　Em　said　little；　but　strangely　the　spirit　moved　out　from　her；　and　Jeanie　went　away　with　courage　to　fight　on。　George　came；　unwashed　and　filth…smeared；　a　terror…stricken　old　man…Maurine　had　suffered　a　relapse；　and　their　grandchild　lay　gasping。　Em　said　nothing　about　God；　but　again　a　spirit　went　out　from　her；　and　George　walked　away　with　head　high；　and　saying　the　words；　〃Yea；　though　He　slay　me。。。。〃　Thus　even　when　the　shadows　drew　in　most　closely　and　the　little　candle　seemed　flickering　and　smoky；　she　knew　no　despair　and　sustained　them　all。　
　　〃It　is　strange；〃　thought　Ish。　〃She　has　none　of　those　things　on　which　I　used　to　count　so　much…not　education；　not　even　high　intelligence。　She　supplies　no　ideas。　Yet　she　has　a　greatness　within　her　and　the　final　affinnation。　Without　her；　in　these　last　few　weeks；　we　would　have　despaired　and　lost　hold　of　life　and　gone　under。〃　And　he　felt　himself　humble　beside　her。　
　　At　last　one　day　he　saw　her　sitting　near　him；　and　on　her　face　was　such　great　weariness　as　he　had　never　seen　on　a　face　before。　He　was　appalled。　Then　suddenly　he　was　happy；　for　he　knew　that　she　would　never　have　sat　there　and　let　her　weariness　show　unless　the　future　was　safe。　Yet　it　was　such　a　weariness　as　he　scarcely　thought　could　exist。　Suddenly　he　knew　that　behind　such　weariness　must　also　lie　great　grief。　
　　At　that　moment　too　he　realized　that　he　himself　was　now　on　the　road　to　convalescence；　probably　less　weary　than　she；　able　to　share　the　load。　
　　He　looked　at　her　and　smiled；　and　even　in　her　weariness　she　smiled　back。　〃Tell　me；〃　he　said　gently。　
　　She　hesitated；　and　he　was　thinking　wildly。　Walt？…no；　Walt　was　not　sick。　He　brought　me　a　glass　of　water　today。　Jack？…no；　I　am　sure　that　I　have　heard　his　voice；　he　was　very　strong。　Josey　would　it　be？　Or　Mary？　It　might　be　more　than　one。　
　　〃Share　it　with　me；〃　he　said　to　her。　I　am　well　enough　now。〃　And　still　he　was　thinking　wildly。　It　must　not　be　that　one。　He　was　not　strong；　but　the　weakest　often　endure　illness　the　best。　No；　not　he！　
　　〃Five…up　and　down　the　street…five　are　dead。〃　
　　〃Which　ones？〃　he　said；　bracing　himself。　
　　〃They　are　all　children。〃　
　　〃What…about　ours？〃　he　said；　knowing　that　she　was　sheltering　him　still；　his　fear　suddenly　dominating。　〃Yes；　five　days　ago；〃　she　said。　
　　Then　he　saw　her　lips　start　to　form　the　word；　and　he　knew；　even　before　he　heard　the　sounds：　〃Joey。〃　
　　What　is　the　good　of　anything？　（So　he　thought；　and　he　asked　nothing　more。）　The　Chosen　One！　The　rest　might　have　followed；　he　only　could　carry　the　light。　The　Child　of　the　Promise！　Then　he　closed　his　eyes；　and　lay　still。　
　　
　　Chapter　9
　　The　weeks　of　his　convalescence　dragged　along。　Very　slowly；　his　physical　strength　came　back　to　him。　Yet；　even　behind　his　physical　strength；　his　mental　vigor　lagged。　Looking　in　a　mirror；　he　saw　his　hair　now　showing　streaks　of　gray。　〃Am　I　old　already？〃　he　thought。　〃No；　not　really　old！〃　At　least　he　knew　that　in　some　ways　he　would　never　be　the　same。　Some　fine　youthful　courage　and　confidence　had　faded。　
　　Always　he　had　prided　himself　on　being　able　to　think　honestly；　to　face　intellectually　whatever　must　be　faced。　Now　he　found　his　mind　swerving　off　when　his　thoughts　drew　near　to　certain　subjects。　Well；　he　was　still　weak；　after　a　while；　he　would　go　ahead　once　more。　
　　Sometimes　（and　this　frightened　him）　he　found　himself　refusing　to　admit　the　actuality；　making　plans　as　if　Joey　were　still　there；　escaping　into　the　happiness　of　fantasy。　He　realized　that　he　had　always　had　something　of　this　tendency。　At　times　it　had　been　an　advantage；　as　when　it　had　enabled　him　to　readjust　imaginatively　when　he　had　first　been　left　alone。　But　now　he　was　escaping　because　the　reality　seemed　too　bleak　to　be　faced。　Repeatedly　a　line　of　poetry；　from　the　wide　reading　of　all　those　years；　came　into　his　head　when　he　tried　to　breast　reality：　
　　Never　glad　confident　morning　again！
　　No；　never　again！　Joey　was　gone；　and　Charlie's　shadow　lay　over　them；　and　the　all…necessary　State　had　arisen；　with　death　in　its　hands。　And　everything　that　he　had　tried　to　do　so　hopefully　in　that　glad　morning　had　failed。　He　questioned　why。　Then　often　in　mere　despair　he　fled　into　fantasy。　
　　When　he　could　think　more　calmly；　the　irony　of　all　things　impressed　him　more　and　more。　What　you　were　preparing　against…that　never　happened！　All　the　best…laid　plans　could　not　prevent　the　disaster　against　which　no　plans　had　been　laid。　
　　Most　of　the　time　he　had　to　be　alone。　Some　of　the　others　still　needed　care；　and　what　strength　remained　in　Em　had　to　be　devoted　to　them。　He　would　have　liked　to　talk　to　Ezra；　but　Ezra　too　was　not　yet　out　of　bed。　Except　for　Em　and　Ezra；　now　that　Joey　was　gone；　there　was　no　one　to　whom　his　heart　really　went　out。　
　　One　afternoon　he　awoke　from　a　nap；　and　saw　Em　sitting　near　his　bed。　With　only　half…opened　eyes；　he　looked　at　her。　She　had　not　yet　noticed　that　he　was　awake。　She　was　still　weary…looking；　but　no　longer　with　the　terrible　weariness　that　he　had　seen　before。　There　was　grief　too；　but　a　calm　covered　it。　There　was　no　despair。　As　for　fear；　he　no　longer　even　thought　of　searching　for　that！　
　　She　looked　at　him；　and　noticed　his　opened　eyes；　and　smiled　quickly。　Suddenly　he　knew　that　this　was　the　time　when　he　must　face　it。　
　　〃I　must　talk　with　you；〃　he　said；　though　his　voice　was　scarcely　more　than　a　whisper；　as　if　he　were　still　asleep。　Then　he　paused。　
　　〃Yes；〃　she　said　quietly；　〃I　am　here。。。。　Go　on。。。。　I　am　here。　〃　
　　〃I　must　talk　with　you；〃　he　repeated；　still　afraid　really　to　begin。　He　felt　himself　humble　before　her；　the　child　who　must　ask　questions　of　the　grown…up；　the　frightened　child　trying　to　drive　fear　away　and　renew　confidence。　Yet；　not　being　really　a　child；　he　feared　that　even　she　could　make　no　answer　that　would　bring　that　security。　
　　〃I　want　to　ask　you　some　questions；〃　he　went　on。　〃How　is　it。。。〃　he　began　bravely；　and　then　paused　again。　
　　She　only　smiled　at　him；　realizing　his　weakness；　but　she　did　not　tell　him　to　wait　till　another　time。　
　　〃This　is　it！〃　he　said　desperately。　〃Is　this　the　way　of　it？　I　know　what　George　is　thinking；　and　the　others　perhaps　too！　I　heard　something；　even　through　my　fever。　Is　it。。。　is　it　a　punishment？〃　
　　Then　he　looked　at　her；　and　for　the　first　time　in　all　those　terrible　weeks　he　saw　in　her　face　something　which　was　fear；　or　might　be。　Even　I　have　failed　her；　he　thought　in　panic。　Yet　he　knew　that　now　he　must　go　on；　or　else　a　wall　of　doubt　and　dishonesty　would　arise　between　them　forever。　
　　So　he　blurted　on：　〃You　know　what　I　mean！　Is　it　because　we　killed　Charlie？　Did　something…did　God…strike　back　at　us？　An　eye　for　an　eye；　and　a　tooth　for　a　tooth！　Is　this　why　they　all…why　Joey？…died？　Did…what　it　was…He…use　the　disease　that　Charlie　was　carrying…so　that　we　should　all　be　sure　how　it　was　meant？〃　
　　Then；　as　he　paused；　he　saw　that　her　face　was　contorted　with　horror。　
　　〃No；　no！〃　she　cried。　〃Not　you　too！　I　faced　the　others　so　often　alone　when　you　were　sick！　I　knew　no　arguments；　but　I　knew　that　it　could　not　be　so。　I　could　give　them　no　arguments。　All　I　could　give　them　was　my　courage！〃　
　　She　paused；　as　if　the　sudden　vehemence　had　exhausted　her。　
　　〃Yes；〃　she　went　on；　〃I　felt　courage　flow　out　from　me　like　blood！　It　flowed　out　to　them　all；　and　I　grew　weaker　as　it　flowed；　and　I　wondered　'Will　there　be　enough？　Will　there　be　enough？'　And　you　were　talking　of　Charlie　through　your　fever。〃　
　　She　was　silent　again；　but　he　could　say　nothing。　
　　〃Oh；〃　she　cried；　〃do　not　ask　me　for　more　courage！　I　do　not　know　the　arguments。　I　never　went　to　college。　All　I　know　is　that　we　did　what　we　thought　best。　If　there　is　a　God　who　made　us　and　we　did　wrong　before　His　eyes…as　George　says…at　least　we　did　wrong　only　because　we　were　as　God　made　us；　and　I　do　not　think　that　He　should　set　traps。　Oh；　you　should　know　better　than　George！　Let　us　not　bring　all　that　back　into　the　world　again…the　angry　God；　the　mean　God…the　one　who　does　not　tell　us　the　rules　of　the　game；　and　then　strikes　us　when　we　break　them。　Let　us　not　bring　Him　back！　Not　you　too！〃　
　　Then　she　stopped。　and　he　saw　that　her　face　was　between　her　hands；　so　that　he　could　not　tell　whether　or　not　there　was　fear　in　it。　But　he　knew　that　she　was　crying。　
　　And　again　he　felt　small　and　very　humble　before　her。　（Once　more　she　had　not　failed　him。）　But　most　of　all　he　felt　calm　and　peaceful　and　reassured。　Yes；　he　should　have　known。　He；　among　them　all；　should　not　have　doubted。　Reaching　out；　he　took　one　of　her　hands。　
　　〃Do　not　be　afraid；〃　he　found　himself　saying；　though　for　him　to　be　saying　so　to　her　was　ironic。　〃You　are　right；　you　are　right！　I　shall　not　think　such　things　again。　I　know　the　arguments。　But　when　there　is　death　and　a　man　has　been　very　sick；　he　is　weak。　Yes；　you　must　remember；　I　am　still…not　quite　myself。〃　
　　Then　suddenly　she　was　kissing　him　through　warm　tears；　and