desperate remedies-第8章

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what。　　Half…past　five　o'clock　camethe　end　of　Springrove's　official
day。　　Two　minutes　later　Springrove　walked　by。

She　endured　her　solitude　for　another　half…hour；　and　then　could
endure　no　longer。　　She　had　hopedwhile　affecting　to　fearthat
Edward　would　have　found　some　reason　or　other　for　calling；　but　it
seemed　that　he　had　not。　　Hastily　dressing　herself　she　went　out；　when
the　farce　of　an　accidental　meeting　was　repeated。　　Edward　came　upon
her　in　the　street　at　the　first　turning；　and；　like　the　Great　Duke
Ferdinand　in　'The　Statue　and　the　Bust'

　　　　　'He　looked　at　her　as　a　lover　can；
　　　　　　She　looked　at　him　as　one　who　awakes
　　　　　　The　past　was　a　sleep；　and　her　life　began。'

'Shall　we　have　a　boat？'　he　said　impulsively。

How　blissful　it　all　is　at　first。　　Perhaps；　indeed；　the　only　bliss　in
the　course　of　love　which　can　truly　be　called　Eden…like　is　that　which
prevails　immediately　after　doubt　has　ended　and　before　reflection　has
set　inat　the　dawn　of　the　emotion；　when　it　is　not　recognized　by
name；　and　before　the　consideration　of　what　this　love　is；　has　given
birth　to　the　consideration　of　what　difficulties　it　tends　to　create；
when　on　the　man's　part；　the　mistress　appears　to　the　mind's　eye　in
picturesque；　hazy；　and　fresh　morning　lights；　and　soft　morning
shadows；　when；　as　yet；　she　is　known　only　as　the　wearer　of　one　dress；
which　shares　her　own　personality；　as　the　stander　in　one　special
position；　the　giver　of　one　bright　particular　glance；　and　the　speaker
of　one　tender　sentence；　when；　on　her　part；　she　is　timidly　careful
over　what　she　says　and　does；　lest　she　should　be　misconstrued　or
under…rated　to　the　breadth　of　a　shadow　of　a　hair。

'Shall　we　have　a　boat？'　he　said　again；　more　softly；　seeing　that　to
his　first　question　she　had　not　answered；　but　looked　uncertainly　at
the　ground；　then　almost；　but　not　quite；　in　his　face；　blushed　a
series　of　minute　blushes；　left　off　in　the　midst　of　them；　and　showed
the　usual　signs　of　perplexity　in　a　matter　of　the　emotions。

Owen　had　always　been　with　her　before；　but　there　was　now　a　force　of
habit　in　the　proceeding；　and　with　Arcadian　innocence　she　assumed
that　a　row　on　the　water　was；　under　any　circumstances；　a　natural
thing。　　Without　another　word　being　spoken　on　either　side；　they　went
down　the　steps。　　He　carefully　handed　her　in；　took　his　seat；　slid
noiselessly　off　the　sand；　and　away　from　the　shore。

They　thus　sat　facing　each　other　in　the　graceful　yellow　cockle…shell；
and　his　eyes　frequently　found　a　resting…place　in　the　depths　of　hers。
The　boat　was　so　small　that　at　each　return　of　the　sculls；　when　his
hands　came　forward　to　begin　the　pull；　they　approached　so　near　to　her
that　her　vivid　imagination　began　to　thrill　her　with　a　fancy　that　he
was　going　to　clasp　his　arms　round　her。　　The　sensation　grew　so　strong
that　she　could　not　run　the　risk　of　again　meeting　his　eyes　at　those
critical　moments；　and　turned　aside　to　inspect　the　distant　horizon；
then　she　grew　weary　of　looking　sideways；　and　was　driven　to　return　to
her　natural　position　again。　　At　this　instant　he　again　leant　forward
to　begin；　and　met　her　glance　by　an　ardent　fixed　gaze。　　An
involuntary　impulse　of　girlish　embarrassment　caused　her　to　give　a
vehement　pull　at　the　tiller…rope；　which　brought　the　boat's　head
round　till　they　stood　directly　for　shore。

His　eyes；　which　had　dwelt　upon　her　form　during　the　whole　time　of　her
look　askance；　now　left　her；　he　perceived　the　direction　in　which　they
were　going。

'Why；　you　have　completely　turned　the　boat；　Miss　Graye？'　he　said；
looking　over　his　shoulder。　　'Look　at　our　track　on　the　watera　great
semicircle；　preceded　by　a　series　of　zigzags　as　far　as　we　can　see。'

She　looked　attentively。　　'Is　it　my　fault　or　yours？'　she　inquired。
'Mine；　I　suppose？'

'I　can't　help　saying　that　it　is　yours。'

She　dropped　the　ropes　decisively；　feeling　the　slightest　twinge　of
vexation　at　the　answer。

'Why　do　you　let　go？'

'I　do　it　so　badly。'

'O　no；　you　turned　about　for　shore　in　a　masterly　way。　　Do　you　wish　to
return？'

'Yes；　if　you　please。'

'Of　course；　then；　I　will　at　once。'

'I　fear　what　the　people　will　think　of　usgoing　in　such　absurd
directions；　and　all　through　my　wretched　steering。'

'Never　mind　what　the　people　think。'　　A　pause。　　'You　surely　are　not
so　weak　as　to　mind　what　the　people　think　on　such　a　matter　as　that？'

Those　words　might　almost　be　called　too　firm　and　hard　to　be　given　by
him　to　her；　but　never　mind。　　For　almost　the　first　time　in　her　life
she　felt　the　charming　sensation；　although　on　such　an　insignificant
subject；　of　being　compelled　into　an　opinion　by　a　man　she　loved。
Owen；　though　less　yielding　physically；　and　more　practical；　would　not
have　had　the　intellectual　independence　to　answer　a　woman　thus。　　She
replied　quietly　and　honestlyas　honestly　as　when　she　had　stated　the
contrary　fact　a　minute　earlier

'I　don't　mind。'

'I'll　unship　the　tiller　that　you　may　have　nothing　to　do　going　back
but　to　hold　your　parasol；'　he　continued；　and　arose　to　perform　the
operation；　necessarily　leaning　closely　against　her；　to　guard　against
the　risk　of　capsizing　the　boat　as　he　reached　his　hands　astern。　　His
warm　breath　touched　and　crept　round　her　face　like　a　caress；　but　he
was　apparently　only　concerned　with　his　task。　　She　looked　guilty　of
something　when　he　seated　himself。　　He　read　in　her　face　what　that
something　wasshe　had　experienced　a　pleasure　from　his　touch。　　But
he　flung　a　practical　glance　over　his　shoulder；　seized　the　oars；　and
they　sped　in　a　straight　line　towards　the　shore。

Cytherea　saw　that　he　noted　in　her　face　what　had　passed　in　her　heart；
and　that　noting　it；　he　continued　as　decided　as　before。　　She　was
inwardly　distressed。　　She　had　not　meant　him　to　translate　her　words
about　returning　home　so　literally　at　the　first；　she　had　not　intended
him　to　learn　her　secret；　but　more　than　all　she　was　not　able　to
endure　the　perception　of　his　learning　it　and　continuing　unmoved。

There　was　nothing　but　misery　to　come　now。　　They　would　step　ashore；
he　would　say　good…night；　go　to　London　to…morrow；　and　the　miserable
She　would　lose　him　for　ever。　　She　did　not　quite　suppose　what　was　the
fact；　that　a　parallel　thought　was　simultaneously　passing　through　his
mind。

They　were　now　within　ten　yards；　now　within　five；　he　was　only　now
waiting　for　a　'smooth'　to　bring　the　boat　in。　　Sweet；　sweet　Love　must
not　be　slain　thus；　was　the　fair　maid's　reasoning。　　She　was　equal　to
the　occasionladies　areand　delivered　the　god

'Do　you　want　very　much　to　land；　Mr。　Springrove？'　she　said；　letting
her　young　violet　eyes　pine　at　him　a　very；　very　little。

'I？　　Not　at　all；'　said　he；　looking　an　astonishment　at　her　inquiry
which　a　slight　twinkle　of　his　eye　half　belied。　　'But　you　do？'

'I　think　that　now　we　have　come　out；　and　it　is　such　a　pleasant
evening；'　she　said　gently　and　sweetly；　'I　should　like　a　little
longer　row　if　you　don't　mind？　　I'll　try　to　steer　better　than　before
if　it　makes　it　easier　for　you。　　I'll　try　very　hard。'

It　was　the　turn　of　his　face　to　tell　a　tale　now。　　He　looked；　'We
understand　each　otherah；　we　do；　darling！'　turned　the　boat；　and
pulled　back　into　the　Bay　once　more。

'Now　steer　wherever　you　will；'　he　said；　in　a　low　voice。　　'Never　mind
the　directness　of　the　coursewherever　you　will。'

'Shall　it　be　Creston　Shore？'　she　said；　pointing　to　a　stretch　of
beach　northward　from　Budmouth　Esplanade。

'Creston　Shore　certainly；'　he　responded；　grasping　the　sculls。　　She
took　the　strings　daintily；　and　they　wound　away　to　the　left。

For　a　long　time　nothing　was　audible　in　the　boat　but　the　regular　dip
of　the　oars；　and　their　movement　in　the　rowlocks。　　Springrove　at
length　spoke。

'I　must　go　away　to…morrow；'　he　said　tentatively。

'Yes；'　she　replied　faintly。

'To　endeavour　to　advance　a　little　in　my　profession　in　London。'

'Yes；'　she　said　again；　with　the　same　preoccupied　softness。

'But　I　shan't　advance。'

'Why　not？　　Architecture　is　a　bewitching　profession。　　They　say　that
an　architect's　work　is　another　man's　play。'

'Yes。　　But　worldly　advantage　from　an　art　doesn't　depend　upon
mastering　it。　　I　used　to　think　it　did；　but　it　doesn't。　　Those　who
get　rich　need　have　no　skill　at　all　as　artists。'

'What　need　they　have？'

'A　certain　kind　of　energy　which　men　with　any　fondness　for　art
possess　very　seldom　indeedan　earnestness　in　making　acquaintances；
and　a　love　for　using　them。　　They　give　their　whole　attention　to　the
art　of　dining　out；　after　mastering　a　few　rudimentary　facts　to　serve
up　in　conversation。　　Now　after　saying　that；　do　I　seem　a　man　likely
to　make　a　name？'

'You　seem　a　man　likely　to　make　a　mistake。'

'What's　that？'

'To　give　too　much　room　to　the　latent　feeling　which　is　rather　common
in　these　days　among　the　unappreciated；　that　because　some　remarkably
successful　men　are　fools；　all　remarkably　unsuccessful　men　are
geniuses。'

'Pretty　subtle　for　a　young　lady；'　he　said　slowly。　　'From　that　remark
I　should　fancy　you　had　bought　experience。'

She　passed　over　the　idea。　　'Do　try　to　succeed；'　she　said；　with
wistful　thoughtfulness；　leaving　her　eyes　on　him。

Springrove　flushed　a　little　at　the　earnestness　of　her　words；　and
mused。　　'Then；　like　Cato　the　Censor；　I　shall　do　what　I　despise；　to
be　in　the　fashion；'　he　said　at　last。　。　。　　'Well；　when　I　found　all
this　out　that　I　was　speaking　of；　what　ever　do　you　think　I　did？　　From
having　already　loved　verse　passionately；　I　went　on　to　read　it
continually；　then　I　went　rhyming　myself。　　If　anything　on　earth　ruins
a　man　for　useful　occupation；　and　for　content　with　reasonable　success
in　a　profession　or　trade；　it　is　the　habit　of　writing　verses　on
emotional　subjects；　which　had　much　better　be　left　to　die　from　want
of　nourishment。'

'Do　you　write　poems　now？'　she　said。

'None。　　Poetical　days　are　getting　past　with　me；　according　to　the
usual　rule。　　Writing　rhymes　is　a　stage　people　of　my　sort　pass
through；　as　they　pass　through　the　stage　of　shaving　for　a　beard；　or
thinking　they　are　ill…used；　or　saying　there's　nothing　in　the　world
worth　living　for。'

'Then　the　difference　between　a　common　man　and　a　recognized　poet　is；
that　one　has　been　deluded；　and　cured　of　his　delusion；　and　the　other
continues　deluded　all　his　days。'

'Well；　there's　just　enough　truth　in　what　you　say；　to　make　the　remark
unbearable。　　However；　it　doesn't　matter　to　me　now　that　I　〃meditate
the　thankless　Muse〃　no　longer；　but。　。　。'　　He　paused；　as　if
endeavouring　to　think　what　better　thing　he　did。

Cytherea's　mind　ran　on　to　the　succeeding　lines　of　the　poem；　and
their　startling　harmony　with　the　present　situation　suggested　the
fancy　that　he　was　'sporting'　with　her；　and　brought　an　awkward
contemplativeness　to　her　face。

Springrove　guessed　her　thoughts；　and　in　answer　to　them　simply　said
'Yes。'　　Then　they　were　silent　again。

'If　I　had　known　an　Amaryllis　was　coming　here；　I　should　not　have　made
arrangements　for　leaving；'　he　resumed。

Such　levity；　superimposed　on　the　notion　of　'sport'；　was　intolerable
to　Cytherea；　for　a　woman　seems　never　to　see　any　but　the　serious　side
of　her　attachment；　though　the　most　devoted　lover　has　all　the　time　a
vague　and　dim　perception　that　he　is　losing　his　old　dignity　and
frittering　away　his　time。

'But　will　you　not　try　again　to　get　on　in　your　profession？　　Try　once
more；　do　try　once　more；'　she　murmured。　　'I　am　going　to　try　again。　　I
have　a