armadale-第147节

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and　how　happy　I　made　_him！_　Only　two　months　have　passed；　and　that
time　is　a　by…gone　time　already！　I　try　to　think　of　anything　I
might　have　said　or　done　wrongly；　on　my　sideof　anything　he　might
have　said　or　done　wrongly；　on　his；　and　I　can　remember　nothing
unworthy　of　my　husband；　nothing　unworthy　of　myself。　I　cannot　even
lay　my　finger　on　the　day　when　the　cloud　first　rose　between　us。

〃I　could　bear　it；　if　I　loved　him　less　dearly　than　I　do。　I　could
conquer　the　misery　of　our　estrangement；　if　he　only　showed　the
change　in　him　as　brutally　as　other　men　would　show　it。

〃But　this　never　has　happenednever　will　happen。　It　is　not　in　his
nature　to　inflict　suffering　on　others。　Not　a　hard　word；　not　a
hard　look；　escapes　him。　It　is　only　at　night；　when　I　hear　him
sighing　in　his　sleep；　and　sometimes　when　I　see　him　dreaming　in
the　morning　hours；　that　I　know　how　hopelessly　I　am　losing　the
love　he　once　felt　for　me。　He　hides；　or　tries　to　hide；　it　in　the
day；　for　my　sake。　He　is　all　gentleness；　all　kindness；　but　his
heart　is　not　on　his　lips　when　he　kisses　me　now；　his　hand　tells　me
nothing　when　it　touches　mine。　Day　after　day　the　hours　that　he
gives　to　his　hateful　writing　grow　longer　and　longer；　day　after
day　he　becomes　more　and　more　silent　in　the　hours　that　he　gives　to
Me。

〃And；　with　all　this；　there　is　nothing　that　I　can　complain
ofnothing　marked　enough　to　justify　me　in　noticing　it。　His
disappointment　shrinks　from　all　open　confession；　his　resignation
collects　itself　by　such　fine　degrees　that　even　my　watchfulness
fails　to　see　the　growth　of　it。　Fifty　times　a　day　I　feel　the
longing　in　me　to　throw　my　arms　round　his　neck；　and　say：　'For
God's　sake；　do　anything　to　me；　rather　than　treat　me　like　this！'
and　fifty　times　a　day　the　words　are　forced　back　into　my　heart　by
the　cruel　considerateness　of　his　conduct；　which　gives　me　no
excuse　for　speaking　them。　I　thought　I　had　suffered　the　sharpest
pain　that　I　could　feel　when　my　first　husband　laid　his　whip　across
my　face。　I　thought　I　knew　the　worst　that　despair　could　do　on　the
day　when　I　knew　that　the　other　villain；　the　meaner　villain　still；
had　cast　me　off。　Live　and　learn。　There　is　sharper　pain　than　I
felt　under　Waldron's　whip；　there　is　bitterer　despair　than　the
despair　I　knew　when　Manuel　deserted　me。

〃Am　I　too　old　for　him？　Surely　not　yet！　Have　I　lost　my　beauty？　Not
a　man　passes　me　in　the　street　but　his　eyes　tell　me　I　am　as
handsome　as　ever。

〃Ah；　no！　no！　the　secret　lies　deeper　than　_that！_　I　have　thought
and　thought　about　it　till　a　horrible　fancy　has　taken　possession
of　me。　He　has　been　noble　and　good　in　his　past　life；　and　I　have
been　wicked　and　disgraced。　Who　can　tell　what　a　gap　that　dreadful
difference　may　make　between　us；　unknown　to　him　and　unknown　to　me？
It　is　folly；　it　is　madness；　but；　when　I　lie　awake　by　him　in　the
darkness；　I　ask　myself　whether　any　unconscious　disclosure　of　the
truth　escapes　me　in　the　close　intimacy　that　now　unites　us？　Is
there　an　unutterable　Something　left　by　the　horror　of　my　past
life；　which　clings　invisibly　to　me　still？　And　is　he　feeling　the
influence　of　it；　sensibly；　and　yet　incomprehensibly　to　himself？
Oh　me！　is　there　no　purifying　power　in　such　love　as　mine？　Are
there　plague…spots　of　past　wickedness　on　my　heart　which　no
after…repentance　can　wash　out？

〃Who　can　tell？　There　is　something　wrong　in　our　married　lifeI
can　only　come　back　to　that。　There　is　some　adverse　influence　that
neither　he　nor　I　can　trace　which　is　parting　us　further　and
further　from　each　other　day　by　day。　Well！　I　suppose　I　shall　be
hardened　in　time；　and　learn　to　bear　it。

〃An　open　carriage　has　just　driven　by　my　window；　with　a　nicely
dressed　lady　in　it。　She　had　her　husband　by　her　side；　and　her
children　on　the　seat　opposite。　At　the　moment　when　I　saw　her　she
was　laughing　and　talking　in　high　spiritsa　sparkling；
light…hearted；　happy　woman。　Ah；　my　lady；　when　you　were　a　few
years　younger；　if　you　had　been　left　to　yourself；　and　thrown　on
the　world　like　me


〃October　11th。The　eleventh　day　of　the　month　was　the　day　（two
months　since）　when　we　were　married。　He　said　nothing　about　it　to
me　when　we　woke；　nor　I　to　him。　But　I　thought　I　would　make　it　the
occasion；　at　breakfast…time；　of　trying　to　win　him　back。

〃I　don't　think　I　ever　took　such　pains　with　my　toilet　before。　I
don't　think　I　ever　looked　better　than　I　looked　when　I　went
downstairs　this　morning。　He　had　breakfasted　by　himself；　and　I
found　a　little　slip　of　paper　on　the　table　with　an　apology　written
on　it。　The　post　to　England；　he　said；　went　out　that　day；　and　his
letter　to　the　newspaper　must　be　finished。　In　his　place　I　would
have　let　fifty　posts　go　out　rather　than　breakfast　without　him。　I
went　into　his　room。　There　he　was；　immersed　body　and　soul　in　his
hateful　writing！　'Can't　you　give　me　a　little　time　this　morning？'
I　asked。　He　got　up　with　a　start。　'Certainly；　if　you　wish　it。'　He
never　even　looked　at　me　as　he　s　aid　the　words。　The　very　sound　of
his　voice　told　me　that　all　his　interest　was　centered　in　the　pen
that　he　had　just　laid　down。　'I　see　you　are　occupied；'　I　said；　'I
don't　wish　it。'　Before　I　had　closed　the　door　on　him　he　was　back
at　his　desk。　I　have　often　heard　that　the　wives　of　authors　have
been　for　the　most　part　unhappy　women。　And　now　I　know　why。

〃I　suppose；　as　I　said　yesterday；　I　shall　learn　to　bear　it。　（What
_stuff；_　by…the…by；　I　seem　to　have　written　yesterday！　How　ashamed
I　should　be　if　anybody　saw　it　but　myself！）　I　hope　the　trumpery
newspaper　he　writes　for　won't　succeed！　I　hope　his　rubbishing
letter　will　be　well　cut　up　by　some　other　newspaper　as　soon　as　it
gets　into　print！

〃What　am　I　to　do　with　myself　all　the　morning？　I　can't　go　out；
it's　raining。　If　I　open　the　piano；　I　shall　disturb　the
industrious　journalist　who　is　scribbling　in　the　next　room。　Oh；
dear；　it　was　lonely　enough　in　my　lodging　in　Thorpe　Ambrose；　but
how　much　lonelier　it　is　here！　Shall　I　read？　No；　books　don't
interest　me；　I　hate　the　whole　tribe　of　authors。　I　think　I　shall
look　back　through　these　pages；　and　live　my　life　over　again　when　I
was　plotting　and　planning；　and　finding　a　new　excitement　to　occupy
me　in　every　new　hour　of　the　day。

〃He　might　have　looked　at　me；　though　he　_was_　so　busy　with　his
writing。He　might　have　said；　'How　nicely　you　are　dressed　this
morning！'　He　might　have　rememberednever　mind　what！　All　he
remembers　is　the　newspaper。


〃Twelve　o'clock。I　have　been　reading　and　thinking；　and；　thanks
to　my　Diary；　I　have　got　through　an　hour。

〃What　a　time　it　waswhat　a　life　it　was；　at　Thorpe　Ambrose！　I
wonder　I　kept　my　senses。　It　makes　my　heart　beat；　it　makes　my　face
flush；　only　to　read　about　it　now！

〃The　rain　still　falls；　and　the　journalist　still　scribbles。　I
don't　want　to　think　the　thoughts　of　that　past　time　over　again。
And　yet；　what　else　can　I　do？

〃SupposingI　only　say　supposingI　felt　now；　as　I　felt　when　I
traveled　to　London　with　Armadale；　and　when　I　saw　my　way　to　his
life　as　plainly　as　I　saw　the　man　himself　all　through　the　journey。
。　。　。　？

〃I'll　go　and　look　out　of　the　window。　I'll　go　and　count　the　people
as　they　pass　by。

〃A　funeral　has　gone　by；　with　the　penitents　in　their　black　hoods；
and　the　wax　torches　sputtering　in　the　wet；　and　the　little　bell
ringing；　and　the　priests　droning　their　monotonous　chant。　A
pleasant　sight　to　meet　me　at　the　window！　I　shall　go　back　to　my
Diary。

〃Supposing　I　was　not　the　altered　woman　I　amI　only　say；
supposinghow　would　the　Grand　Risk　that　I　once　thought　of
running　look　now？　I　have　married　Midwinter　in　the　name　that　is
really　his　own。　And　by　doing　that　I　have　taken　the　first　of　those
three　steps　which　were　once　to　lead　me；　through　Armadale's　life；
to　the　fortune　and　the　station　of　Armadale's　widow。　No　matter　how
innocent　my　intentions　might　have　been　on　the　wedding…dayand
they　_were_　innocentthis　is　one　of　the　unalterable　results　of
the　marriage。　Well；　having　taken　the　first　step；　then；　whether　I
would　or　no；　howsupposing　I　meant　to　take　the　second　step；
which　I　don'thow　would　present　circumstances　stand　toward　me？
Would　they　warn　me　to　draw　back；　I　wonder？　or　would　they
encourage　me　to　go　on？

〃It　will　interest　me　to　calculate　the　chances；　and　I　can　easily
tear　the　leaf　out；　and　destroy　it；　if　the　prospect　looks　too
encouraging。

〃We　are　living　here　（for　economy's　sake）　far　away　from　the
expensive　English　quarter；　in　a　suburb　of　the　city；　on　the
Portici　side。　We　have　made　no　traveling　acquaintances　among　our
own　country　people。　Our　poverty　is　against　us；　Midwinter's
shyness　is　against　us；　and　（with　the　women）　my　personal
appearance　is　against　us。　The　men　from　whom　my　husband　gets　his
information　for　the　newspaper　meet　him　at　the　cafe；　and　never
come　here。　I　discourage　his　bringing　any　strangers　to　see　me；
for；　though　years　have　passed　since　I　was　last　at　Naples；　I
cannot　be　sure　that　some　of　the　many　people　I　once　knew　in　this
place　may　not　be　living　still。　The　moral　of　all　this　is　（as　the
children's　storybooks　say）；　that　not　a　single　witness　has　come　to
this　house　who　could　declare；　if　any　after…inquiry　took　place　in
England；　that　Midwinter　and　I　had　been　living　here　as　man　and
wife。　So　much　for　present　circumstances　as　they　affect　Me。

〃Armadale　next。　Has　any　unforeseen　accident　led　him　to
communicate　with　Thorpe　Ambrose？　Ha