the captives-第78章

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ery　morning　at　half…past　nine　she　was　hungry　in　this　fashion；　and　every　morning　by　eleven　o'clock　she　was　satisfied。　Her　thick　body　thus　promenaded　the　house；　she　was　like　a　stolid　policeman　in　female　attire；　going　his　rounds　to　see　that　all　was　well。　From　room　to　room　she　went；　pausing　to　pant　for　breath　on　the　stairs；　stumbling　always　because　of　her　short　sight　at　the　three　dark　little　steps　just　outside　Paul's　bedroom；　always　sitting　down　on　her　bed　〃to　take　a　breath〃　and　to　get　a　full　gaze　at　the　crucifix　of　bright　yellow　wood；　that　hung　just　under　her　mother's　picture。　Tramp；　tramp；　tramp　round　the　house　she　went。

It　was　incredible　how　deeply　Maggie　had　interfered　with　this　ritual。　She　had　certainly　not　intended　to　do　so。　After　that　first　effort　to　change　certain　things　in　the　house　she　had　retired　from　the　battle；　had　completely　capitulated。　Nevertheless　she　had　interfered　with　all　Grace's　movements　and；　as　the　terror　of　her　grew；　it　seemed　to　pervade　every　nook　and　corner　of　the　house；　so　that　Grace　felt　that　she　could　go　nowhere　without　that　invasion。　Oh；　how　she　resented　it；　and　how　afraid　she　was！　After　Paul　and　Maggie　returned　from　that　summer　holiday　she　saw　that　Paul　too　felt　Maggie's　strangeness。　To　Grace；　from　the　beginning　of　that　autumn；　every　movement　and　gesture　of　Maggie's　was　strange。　The　oddity　of　her　appearance；　her　ignorance　of　everything　that　seemed　to　Grace　to　be　life；　her　strange；　half…　mocking；　half…wondering　attitude　to　the　Church　and　its　affairs　（〃like　a　heathen　in　Central　Africa〃）；　her　dislike　of　the　Maxses　and　the　Pynsents　and　her　liking　for　the　Toms　and　Caroline　Purdie；　her　odd　silences　and　still　odder　speeches；　all　these　things　increased　the　atmosphere　that　separated　her　from　the　rest　of　the　world。

Then　came　the　day　when　Grace；　dusting　in　Maggie's　bedroom；　discovered　the　bundle　of　letters。　She　read　them；　read　them　with　shame　at　her　own　dishonesty　and　anger　at　Maggie　for　making　her　dishonest。　To　her　virgin　ignorance　the　passion　in　them　spoke　of　illicit　love　and　the　grossest　immorality。　Her　heart　burnt　with　a　strange　mingling　of　envy；　jealousy；　loneliness；　shame；　and　eagerness　to　know　more　。　。　。

Then　came　Uncle　Mathew's　visit；　then　Caroline　Purdie's　disgrace。　The　count　was　fully　charged。　Maggie；　that　strange　girl　found　in　the　heart　of　London's　darkness；　alone；　without　friends　or　parents；　was　a　witch；　a　devilish；　potion…dealing　witch；　who　might；　at　any　time；　fly　through　the　night…sky　on　a　broom…stick　as　surely　as　any　mediaeval　old　hag。　These　visions　might　be　exaggerated　for　many　human　beings；　not　so　for　Grace。　Having　no　imagination　she　was　soaked　in　superstition。　She　clung　to　a　few　simple　pictures；　and　was　exposed　to　every　terror　that　those　pictures　could　supply。

Maggie　now　haunted　her　day　and　night。　Everywhere　she　could　feel　Maggie's　eyes　piercing　her。　A　thousand　times　an　hour　she　looked　up　to　see　whether　Maggie　were　not　there　in　the　room　watching　her。　She　hated　her　now　with　terror　that　was　partly　fear　for　her　own　safety；　partly　love　and　jealousy　for　Paul；　partly　outraged　modesty　and　tradition；　partly　sheer　panic。

She　had；　as　yet；　said　very　little　to　Paul。　She　waited　the　right　moment。　Maggie's　absence　showed　her　how　deep　and　devastating　this　fear　had　been。　She　saw　that　it　embraced　the　whole　life　of　Paul　and　herself　in　Skeaton。　She　had　grown　fond　of　Skeaton；　she　was　a　woman　who　would　inevitably　care　for　anything　when　she　had　become　thoroughly　accustomed　to　its　ways　and　was　assured　that　it　would　do　her　no　harm。

She　liked　the　shops　and　the　woods；　the　sand　and　the　sea。　Above　all；　she　adored　the　Church。　During　a　large　part　of　every　day　she　was　there；　pottering　about；　talking　to　the　caretaker；　poking　her　nose　into　the　hymn…books　to　see　whether　the　choir…boys　had　drawn　pictures　in　them；　rubbing　the　brasses；　making　tidy　the　vestry。　The　house　too　she　loved；　and　the　garden　and　the　bottles　on　the　wall。　She　might　have　known　that　she　was　not　popular　in　the　place；　she　cannot　have　failed　to　realise　that　she　had　no　woman　friend　and　that　she　was　seldom　invited　to　dinner。　This　did　not　matter　to　her。　Her　affectionsand　they　were　very　real　and　genuinewere　all　for　her　brother。　Had　she　Paul　she　wanted　no　one　else。　That　was　enough。

And　now　it　might　be　that　they　would　have　to　leave　the　place。　Already　the　talk　about　Maggie　was　intolerable。　Grace　heard　it　on　every　side。　After　Mathew　Cardinal's　visit　the　talk　rose　to　a　shriek。　Grace　knew　that　those　sudden　silences　on　her　entrance　into　the　room　meant　lively　and　excited　discussion。　〃How　terrible　for　the　poor　rector！〃　〃Such　an　odd　girltaken　out　of　the　slums。〃　〃Yes；　quite　drunk。　He　knocked　Mrs。　Maxse　down。〃　〃Oh　I　assure　you　that　she　went　to　see　Caroline　Purdie　the　very　day　after。　She　did　indeed　。　。　。〃

Yes。　Grace　knew　all　about　it。　Unless　things　changed　Paul　would　have　to　go。　His　life　was　ruined　by　this　girl。

Nevertheless　for　a　whole　happy　week　the　world　seemed　to　sink　back　into　its　old　accustomed　apathy。　The　very　house　seemed　to　take　on　its　old　atmosphere。　Paul　came　out　of　his　study　and　went　about　paying　calls。　That　hour；　from　six　to　seven；　when　he　was　at　home　to　his　parishioners　seemed　once　again　to　be　crowded　with　anxious　old　women　and　men　out　of　work　and　girls　in　trouble。　He　took　Grace　with　him　on　his　rounds。　Every　one　was　very　friendly。　Grace　was　able　to　reassume　some　of　her　old　importance。

Her　old　flow　of　conversationchecked　recently　by　the　sense　of　Maggie's　strangenessreturned　to　her。　In　the　morning　she　would　stand　by　her　brother's　study…table；　duster　in　hand；　and　pour　out　her　heart。

〃You　know；　Paul；　it's　all　very　well；　you　may　say　what　you　like；　but　if　Mrs。　Maxse　thinks　she's　going　to　have　the　whole　of　that　second　pew　she's　mistaken。　It's　only　for　a　week　or　two　that　she's　got　the　Broadbents　staying　with　her；　and　I　know　what　she's　after。　Just　fancy！　What　she　wants　is　to　put　the　Broadbents　in　that　second　seat　the　two　Sundays　they're　here　and　then　stick　to　it　after　they're　gone。　Just　fancy　what　Miss　Beats　and　Miss　Hopwood　will　feel　about　it！　What　I　mean　is　that　they've　had　that　seat　for　nearly　eight　years　and　now　to　be　turned　out！　But　I　assure　you；　Paul；　from　what　Linda　Maxse　said　to　me　yesterday　I　believe　she　intends　that；　I　do　indeed。　She　thinks　Miss　Beats　and　Miss　Hopwood　will　get　used　to　sitting　somewhere　else　after　two　Sundays。　'I'm　sure　they　won't　mindpoor　old　things；'　she　said　only　yesterday。　'Poor　old　things。'　Just　fancy！　Why；　Mary　Beats　is　very　little　older　than　I。　You'll　have　to　put　your　foot　down　about　it；　you　will；　indeed；　Paul。　Yes；　you　will。　Give　Linda　Maxse　an　inch　and　she　takes　a　mile；　I　always　saidand　this　is　just　the　kind　of　thing　。　。　。〃

So　happily　Grace　ran　on　and　Paul　looked　up　from　his　desk　at　her；　digging　his　fingers　into　his　white　hair；　smiling　at　her　in　just　the　old　confidential　way　that　he　used　to　have　before　Maggie　came。

She　revived；　too；　her　old　habit　of　talking　to　herself。　This　had　always　been　an　immense　relief　to　herit　had　helped　her　to　feel　reassurance。　Lately　she　had　felt　that　Maggie　was　overhearing　her　and　was　laughing　at　her；　this　had　checked　her　and　made　her　suspicious。　Now　as　she　began　to　mount　the　stairs　she　would　murmur　to　herself：　〃It　might　be　better　to　tell　Jenny　to　go　to　Bartletts。　After　all；　it's　quicker　that　way；　and　she'll　be　able　to　tell　the　boy　to　bring　the　things　back。　She　needn't　wait。　All　the　same　she's　stupid；　she'll　make　a　muddle　of　it　as　likely　as　not。　And　Womball's　boy　is　livelier　than　Bartletts'。　That's　something　after　all。　But　if　she　goes　out　at　two…thirty　she'll　never　be　back　by　fourunless　she　went　by　Smith's　lane　of　courseshe　might　do　that　。　。　。　Oh；　dear；　these　stairs　are　a　trial　。　。　。　　yes；　she　might　do　that；　and　then　she'd　only　be　an　hour　altogether。　I'll　suggest　that　。　。　。〃

Her　murmur　was　a　cheerful　monotonous　sound　accompanying　her　as　she　went。　She　would　stop　and　rub　the　side　of　her　nose　with　her　thumb；　considering。　In　the　house；　when　there　was　no　fear　of　callers；　she　wore　large　loose　slippers　that　tap…tapped　as　she　went。　In　the　evenings　she　sat　in　Paul's　study　all　amongst　the　Cornhills；　The　Temple　Bars；　and　The　Bible　Concordances。　They　were　very　cosy　and　happy；　and　she　talked　incessantly。　For　some　reason　she　did　not　dare　to　ask　him　whether　he　were　not　happier　now　that　Maggie　was　away。　She　did　not　dare。　There　was　not　the　complete　confidence　that　there　had　been。　Paul　was　strange　a　little；　bewitched　by　Maggie's　strangeness　。　。　。　There　was　something　there　that　Grace　did　not　understand。　So　she　said　nothing；　but　she　tried　to　convey　to　him；　in　the　peculiar　warmth　of　her　good…night　kiss；　what　she　felt。

Then　Maggie　returned。　She　came　back　in　her　black　clothes　and　with　her　pale　face。　Her　aunt　had　died。　She　was　more　alone　even　than　before。　She　was　very　quiet；　and　agreed　to　everything　that　Grace　said。　Nevertheless；　although　she　agreed；　she　was　more　antagonistic　than　she　had　been。　She　had　now　something　that　intensely　preoccupied　her。　Grace　could　see　that　she　was　always　thinking　about　something　that　had　nothing　to　do　with　Skeaton　or　Paul　or　the　house。　She　was　more　absent…minded　than　ever；　forgot　everything；　liked　best　to　sit　in　her　bedroom　all　alone。

〃Oh；　she's　mad！〃　said　Grace。　〃She's　really　mad！　Just　fancy　if　she　should　go　right　off　her　head！〃　Grace　was　now　so　desperately　frightened　that　she　lay　awake　at　night；　sweating；　listening　to　every　sound。　〃If　she　should　come　and　murder　me　one　night；〃　she　thought。　Another　thought　she　had　was：　〃It's　just　as　though　she　sees　some　one　all　the　time　who　isn't　there。〃

Then　came　13th　March；　that　dreadful　day　that　would　be　never　forgotten　by　Grace　so　long　as　she　lived。　During　the　whole　of　the　past　week　Skeaton　had　been　delivered　up　to　a　tempest　of　wind　and　rain。　The　High　Street；　emptied　of　human　beings；　had　glittered　and　swayed　under　the　sweeping　storm。　The　Skeaton　sea；　possessing　suddenly　a　life　of　its　own；　had　stormed　upon　the　Skeaton　promenade；　and　worried　and　lashed　and　soaked　that　hideous　structure　to　within　an　inch　of　its　unnatural　life。　Behind　the　town　the　woods　had　swayed　and　creaked；　funeral　black　against　the　grey　thick　sky。　Across　the　folds　the　rain　fell　in　slanting　sheets　with　the　sibilant　hiss　of　relentless　power　and　resolve。

After　luncheon；　on　this　day　the　13th；　Maggie　disappeared　into　the　upper　part　of　the　house　and　Grace　settled　down　on　the　drawing…room　sofa　to　a　nice　little　nap。　She　fell　asleep　to　the　comforting　patter　of　rain　upon　the　windows　and　the　howling　of　the　storm　down　the　chimney。　She　dreamt；　as　she　often　did；　about　food。

She　was　awakened；　with　a　sudden　start；　by　a　sense　of　apprehension。　This　happened　to　her　now　so　often　that　there　was　nothing　strange　in　it；　but　she　jumped　up；　with　beating　heart；　from　the　sofa；　crying　out：　〃What's　happened？　What's　the　matter？〃

She　realised　that　the　room　had　grown　darker　since　she　fell　asleep；　and　although　it　was　early　still　there　was　a　sort　of　grey　twilight　that　stood　out　against　a　deeper　dusk　in　the　garden　beyond。

〃What　is　it？〃　she　said　again；　and　then　saw　that　Jenny；　the　maid；　was　standing　in　the　doorway。

〃Well；　Jenny？〃　she　asked；　trying　to　recover　some　of　her　dignity。

〃It's　a　man；　mum；〃　said　the　little　girl。　（Grace　had　got　her　cheap　from　an　orphanage。）　〃A　gentleman；　mum。　He's　asking　for　Mrs。　Trenchard。　'E　give　me　'is　card。　Oh；　mum；　'e　is　wet　too！〃

She　had　scarcely　finished；　and　Gra