the research magnificent-第33节

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ment's　hesitation。　Both　he　and　she　looked　to　see　how　far　they　were　still　alone。　Then　they　turned　their　dusky　faces　to　each　other。　　He　drew　her　still　closer。　〃Oh！〃　she　said；　and　yielded　herself　to　be　kissed。　　Their　lips　touched；　and　for　a　moment　he　held　her　lithe　body　against　his　own。　〃I　wantn　you；〃　he　whispered　close　to　her。　　〃You　are　my　mate。　　From　the　first　sighawould　certainly　have　done　at　this　point　had　he　had　the　telling　of　Benham's　story　uncontrolledly　in　his　hands。　　But；　indeed；　indeed；　in　real　life；　in　very　truth；　the　heart　has　not　this　simplicity。　　Only　the　heroes　of　romance；　and　a　few　strong　simple　clean…shaven　Americans　have　that　much　emotional　integrity。　　（And　even　the　Americans　do　at　times　seem　to　an　observant　eye　to　be　putting　in　work　at　the　job　and　keeping　up　their　gladness。）　Benham　was　excited　that　night；　but　not　in　the　proper　bright…eyed；　red…cheeked　way；　he　did　not　dance　down　the　village　street　of　Harting　to　his　harbour　at　the　Ship；　and　the　expression　in　his　eyes　as　he　sat　on　the　edge　of　his　bed　was　not　the　deep　elemental　wonder　one　could　have　wished　there；　but　amazement。　　Do　not　suppose　that　he　did　not　love　Amanda；　that　a　rich　majority　of　his　being　was　not　triumphantly　glad　to　have　won　her；　that　the　image　of　the　two　armour…clad　lovers　was　not　still　striding　and　flourishing　through　the　lit　wilderness　of　his　imagination。　　For　three　weeks　things　had　pointed　him　to　this。　They　would　do　everything　together　now；　he　and　his　mate；　they　would　scale　mountains　together　and　ride　side　by　side　towards　ruined　cities　across　the　deserts　of　the　World。　　He　could　have　wished　no　better　thing。　　But　at　the　same　time；　even　as　he　felt　and　admitted　this　and　rejoiced　at　it；　the　sky　of　his　mind　was　black　with　consternation。　。　。　。　It　is　remarkable；　White　reflected；　as　he　turned　over　the　abundant　but　confused　notes　upon　this　perplexing　phase　of　Benham's　development　that　lay　in　the　third　drawer　devoted　to　the　Second　Limitation；　how　dependent　human　beings　are　upon　statement。　　Man　is　the　animal　that　states　a　case。　　He　lives　not　in　things　but　in　expressed　ideas；　and　what　was　troubling　Benham　inordinately　that　night；　a　night　that　should　have　been　devoted　to　purely　blissful　and　exalted　expectations；　was　the　sheer　impossibility　of　stating　what　had　happened　in　any　terms　that　would　be　tolerable　either　to　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　or　Lady　Marayne。　　The　thing　had　happened　with　the　suddenness　of　a　revelation。　　Whatever　had　been　going　on　in　the　less　illuminated　parts　of　his　mind；　his　manifest　resolution　had　been　merely　to　bid　South　Harting　good…bye　　And　in　short　they　would　never　understand。　　They　would　accuse　him　of　the　meanest　treachery。　He　could　see　his　mother's　face；　he　could　hear　her　voice　saying；　〃And　so　because　of　this　sudden　infatuation　for　a　swindler's　daughter；　a　girl　who　runs　about　the　roads　with　a　couple　of　retrievers　hunting　for　a　man；　you　must　spoil　all　my　plans；　ruin　my　year；　tell　me　a　lot　of　pretentious　stuffy　lies。　。　。　。〃　　And　Mrs。　Skelmersdale　too　would　say；　〃Of　course　he　just　talked　of　the　world　and　duty　and　all　that　rubbish　to　save　my　face。　。　。　。〃　It　wasn't　so　at　all。　But　it　looked　so　frightfully　like　it！　Couldn't　they　realize　that　he　had　fled　out　of　London　before　ever　he　had　seen　Amanda？　　They　might　be　able　to　do　it　perhaps；　but　they　never　would。　　It　just　happened　that　in　the　very　moment　when　the　edifice　of　his　noble　resolutions　had　been　ready；　she　had　stepped　into　itout　of　nothingness　and　nowhere。　　She　wasn't　an　accident；　that　was　just　the　point　upon　which　they　were　bound　to　misjudge　her；　she　was　an　embodiment。　　If　only　he　could　show　her　to　them　as　she　had　first　shown　herself　to　him；　swift；　light；　a　little　flushed　from　running　but　not　in　the　least　out　of　breath；　quick　as　a　leopard　upon　the　dogs。　。　。　。　　But　even　if　the　improbable　opportunity　arose；　he　perceived　it　might　still　be　impossible　to　produce　the　Amanda　he　loved；　the　Amanda　of　the　fluttering　short　skirt　and　the　clear　enthusiastic　voice。　　Because；　already　he　knew　she　was　not　the　only　Amanda。　　There　was　another；　there　might　be　others；　there　was　this　perplexing　person　who　had　flashed　into　being　at　the　very　moment　of　their　mutual　confession；　who　had　produced　the　entirely　disconcerting　demand　that　nobody　must　be　told。　　Then　Betty　had　intervened。　　But　that　sub…Amanda　and　her　carneying　note　had　to　be　dealt　with　on　the　first　occasion；　because　when　aristocrats　love　they　don't　care　a　rap　who　is　told　and　who　is　not　told。　　They　just　step　out　into　the　light　side　by　side。　。　。　。　〃Don't　tell　any　one；〃　she　had　said；　〃not　for　a　few　days。　。　。　。〃　This　sub…Amanda　was　perceptible　next　morning　again；　flitting　about　in　the　background　of　a　glad　and　loving　adventuress；　a　pre…occupied　Amanda　who　had　put　her　head　down　while　the　real　Amanda　flung　her　chin　up　and　contemplated　things　on　the　Asiatic　scale；　and　who　was　apparently　engaged　in　disentangling　something　obscure　connected　with　Mr。　Rathbone…Sanders　that　ought　never　to　have　been　entangled。　。　。　。　〃A　human　being；〃　White　read；　〃the　simplest　human　being；　is　a　clustering　mass　of　aspects。　　No　man　will　judge　another　justly　who　judges　everything　about　him。　　And　of　love　in　particular　is　this　true。　　We　love　not　persons　but　revelations。　　The　woman　one　loves　is　like　a　goddess　hidden　in　a　shrine；　for　her　sake　we　live　on　hope　and　suffer　the　kindred　priestesses　that　make　up　herself。　　The　art　of　love　is　patience　till　the　gleam　returns。　。　。　。〃　Sunday　and　Monday　did　much　to　develop　this　idea　of　the　intricate　complexity　of　humanity　in　Benham's　mind。　　On　Monday　morning　he　went　up　from　the　Ship　again　to　get　Amanda　alone　and　deliver　his　ultimatum　agaist　a　further　secrecy；　so　that　he　could　own　her　openly　and　have　no　more　of　the　interventions　and　separations　that　had　barred　him　from　any　intimate　talk　with　her　throughout　the　whole　of　Sunday。　　The　front　door　stood　open；　the　passage　hall　was　empty；　but　as　he　hesitated　whether　he　should　proclaim　himself　with　the　knocker　or　walk　through；　the　door　of　the　little　drawing…room　flew　open　and　a　black…clad　cylindrical　clerical　person　entirely　unknown　to　Benham　stumbled　over　the　threshold；　blundered　blindly　against　him；　made　a　sound　like　〃MOO〃　and　a　pitiful　gesture　with　his　arm；　and　fled　forth。　。　。　。　It　was　a　curate　and　he　was　weeping　bitterly。　。　。　。　Benham　stood　in　the　doorway　and　watched　a　clumsy　broken…hearted　flight　down　the　village　street。　He　had　been　partly　told　and　partly　left　to　infer；　and　anyhow　he　was　beginning　to　understand　about　Mr。　Rathbone…Sanders。　　That　he　could　dismiss。　　Butwhy　was　the　curate　in　tears？

12

He　found　Amanda　standing　alone　in　the　room　from　which　this　young　man　had　fled。　　She　had　a　handful　of　daffodils　in　her　hand；　and　others　were　scattered　over　the　table。　　She　had　been　arranging　the　big　bowl　of　flowers　in　the　centre。　　He　left　the　door　open　behind　him　and　stopped　short　with　the　table　between　them。　　She　looked　up　at　him　intelligently　and　calmly。　　Her　pose　had　a　divine　dignity。　〃I　want　to　tell　them　now；〃　said　Benham　without　a　word　of　greeting。　〃Yes；〃　she　said；　〃tell　them　now。〃　They　heard　steps　in　the　passage　outside。　　〃Betty！〃　cried　Amanda。　Her　mother's　voice　answered；　〃Do　you　want　Betty？〃　〃We　want　you　all；〃　answered　Amanda。　　〃We　have　something　to　tell　you。　。　。　。〃　〃Carrie！〃　they　heard　Mrs。　Morris　call　her　sister　after　an　interval；　and　her　voice　sounded　faint　and　flat　and　unusual。　　There　was　the　soft　hissing　of　some　whispered　words　outside　and　a　muffled　exclamation。　　Then　Mrs。　Wilder　and　Mrs。　Morris　and　Betty　came　into　the　room。　　Mrs。　Wilder　came　first；　and　Mrs。　Morris　with　an　alarmed　face　as　if　sheltering　behind　her。　　〃We　want　to　tell　you　something；〃　said　Amanda。　〃Amanda　and　I　are　going　to　marry　each　other；〃　said　Benham；　standing　in　front　of　her。　For　an　instant　the　others　made　no　answer；　they　looked　at　each　other。　〃BUT　DOES　HE　KNOW？〃　Mrs。　Morris　said　in　a　low　voice。　Amanda　turned　her　eyes　to　her　lover。　　She　was　about　to　speak；　she　seemed　to　gather　herself　for　an　effort；　and　then　he　knew　that　he　did　not　want　to　hear　her　explanation。　　He　checked　her　by　a　gesture。　〃I　KNOW；〃　he　said；　and　then；　〃I　do　not　see　that　it　matters　to　us　in　the　least。〃　He　went　to　her　holding　out　both　his　hands　to　her。　She　took　them　and　stood　shyly　for　a　moment；　and　then　the　watchful　gravity　of　her　face　broke　into　soft　emotion。　　〃Oh！〃　she　cried　and　seized　his　face　between　her　hands　in　a　passion　of　triumphant　love　and　kissed　him。　And　then　he　found　himself　being　kissed　by　Mrs。　Morris。　She　kissed　him　thrice；　with　solemnity；　with　thankfulness；　with　relief；　as　if　in　the　act　of　kissing　she　transferred　to　him　precious　and　entirely　incalculable　treasures。

CHAPTER　THE　FOURTH　THE　SPIRITED　HONEYMOON

1

It　was　a　little　after　sunrise　one　bright　morning　in　September　that　Benham　came　up　on　to　the　deck　of　the　sturdy　Austrian　steamboat　that　was　churning　its　way　with　a　sedulous　deliberation　from　Spalato　to　Cattaro；　and　lit　himself　a　cigarette　and　seated　himself　upon　a　deck　chair。　　Save　for　a　yawning　Greek　sailor　busy　with　a　mop　the　first…　class　deck　was　empty。　Benham　surveyed　the　haggard　beauty　of　the　Illyrian　coast。　　The　mountains　rose　gaunt　and　enormous　and　barren　to　a　jagged　fantastic　silhouette　against　the　sun；　their　almost　vertical　slopes　still　plunged　in　blue　shadow；　broke　only　into　a　little　cold　green　and　white　edge　of　olive　terraces　and　vegetation　and　hou