English
AtthekitchendoorDanielByrnesatinhissleighbehindabig-bonedgreywhopawedthesnowandswunghislongheadrestlesslyfromsidetoside.
Ethanwentintothekitchenandfoundhiswifebythestove.
Herheadwaswrappedinhershawl,andshewasreadingabookcalled“KidneyTroublesandTheirCure”onwhichhehadhadtopayextrapostageonlyafewdaysbefore.
Zeenadidnotmoveorlookupwhenheentered,andafteramomentheasked:“Where’sMattie?”
Withoutliftinghereyesfromthepageshereplied:“Ipresumeshe’sgettingdownhertrunk.”
Thebloodrushedtohisface.“Gettingdownhertrunk-alone?”
“JothamPowell’sdowninthewood-lot,andDan’lByrnesayshedarsn’tleavethathorse,”shereturned.
Herhusband,withoutstoppingtoheartheendofthephrase,hadleftthekitchenandsprungupthestairs.
ThedoorofMattie’sroomwasshut,andhewaveredamomentonthelanding.
“Matt,”hesaidinalowvoice;buttherewasnoanswer,andheputhishandonthedoor-knob.
Hehadneverbeeninherroomexceptonce,intheearlysummer,whenhehadgonetheretoplasterupaleakintheeaves,butherememberedexactlyhoweverythinghadlooked:thered-and-whitequiltonhernarrowbed,theprettypin-cushiononthechestofdrawers,andoverittheenlargedphotographofhermother,inanoxydizedframe,withabunchofdyedgrassesattheback.
NowtheseandallothertokensofherpresencehadvanishedandtheroomlookedasbareandcomfortlessaswhenZeenahadshownherintoitonthedayofherarrival.
Inthemiddleofthefloorstoodhertrunk,andonthetrunkshesatinherSundaydress,herbackturnedtothedoorandherfaceinherhands.
ShehadnotheardEthan’scallbecauseshewassobbingandshedidnothearhissteptillhestoodclosebehindherandlaidhishandsonhershoulders.
“Matt-oh,don’t-oh,Matt!”
Shestartedup,liftingherwetfacetohis.“Ethan-IthoughtIwasn’tevergoingtoseeyouagain!”
Hetookherinhisarms,pressingherclose,andwithatremblinghandsmoothedawaythehairfromherforehead.
“Notseemeagain?Whatdoyoumean?”
Shesobbedout:“Jothamsaidyoutoldhimwewasn’ttowaitdinnerforyou,andIthought-”
“YouthoughtImeanttocutit?”hefinishedforhergrimly.
Sheclungtohimwithoutanswering,andhelaidhislipsonherhair,whichwassoftyetspringy,likecertainmossesonwarmslopes,andhadthefaintwoodyfragranceoffreshsawdustinthesun.
ThroughthedoortheyheardZeena’svoicecallingoutfrombelow:“Dan’lByrnesaysyoubetterhurryupifyouwanthimtotakethattrunk.”
Theydrewapartwithstrickenfaces.WordsofresistancerushedtoEthan’slipsanddiedthere.
Mattiefoundherhandkerchiefanddriedhereyes;then,-bendingdown,shetookholdofahandleofthetrunk.
Ethanputheraside.“Youletgo,Matt,”heorderedher.
Sheanswered:“Ittakestwotocoaxitroundthecorner”;andsubmittingtothisargumenthegraspedtheotherhandle,andtogethertheymanoeuvredtheheavytrunkouttothelanding.
“Nowletgo,”herepeated;thenheshoulderedthetrunkandcarrieditdownthestairsandacrossthepassagetothekitchen.
Zeena,whohadgonebacktoherseatbythestove,didnotliftherheadfromherbookashepassed.
Mattiefollowedhimoutofthedoorandhelpedhimtoliftthetrunkintothebackofthesleigh.
Whenitwasinplacetheystoodsidebysideonthedoor-step,watchingDanielByrneplungeoffbehindhisfidgetyhorse.
ItseemedtoEthanthathisheartwasboundwithcordswhichanunseenhandwastighteningwitheverytickoftheclock.
TwiceheopenedhislipstospeaktoMattieandfoundnobreath.
Atlength,assheturnedtore-enterthehouse,helaidadetaininghandonher.
“I’mgoingtodriveyouover,Matt,”hewhispered.
Shemurmuredback:“IthinkZeenawantsIshouldgowithJotham.”
“I’mgoingtodriveyouover,”herepeated;andshewentintothekitchenwithoutanswering.
AtdinnerEthancouldnoteat.IfheliftedhiseyestheyrestedonZeena’spinchedface,andthecornersofherstraightlipsseemedtoquiverawayintoasmile.
Sheatewell,declaringthatthemildweathermadeherfeelbetter,andpressedasecondhelpingofbeansonJothamPowell,whosewantsshegenerallyignored.
Mattie,whenthemealwasover,wentaboutherusualtaskofclearingthetableandwashingupthedishes.
Zeena,afterfeedingthecat,hadreturnedtoherrocking-chairbythestove,andJothamPowell,whoalwayslingeredlast,reluctantlypushedbackhischairandmovedtowardthedoor.
OnthethresholdheturnedbacktosaytoEthan:“Whattime’llIcomeroundforMattie?”
Ethanwasstandingnearthewindow,mechanicallyfillinghispipewhilehewatchedMattiemovetoandfro.Heanswered:“Youneedn’tcomeround;I’mgoingtodriveherovermyself.”
HesawtheriseofthecolourinMattie’savertedcheek,andthequickliftingofZeena’shead.
“Iwantyoushouldstayherethisafternoon,Ethan,”hiswifesaid.“JothamcandriveMattieover.”
Mattieflunganimploringglanceathim,butherepeatedcurtly:“I’mgoingtodriveherovermyself.”
Zeenacontinuedinthesameeventone:“IwantedyoushouldstayandfixupthatstoveinMattie’sroomaforethegirlgetshere.Itain’tbeendrawingrightfornighonamonthnow.”
Ethan’svoiceroseindignantly.“IfitwasgoodenoughforMattieIguessit’sgoodenoughforahiredgirl.”
“Thatgirlthat’scomingtoldmeshewasusedtoahousewheretheyhadafurnace,”Zeenapersistedwiththesamemonotonousmildness.
“She’dbetterha’stayedtherethen,”heflungbackather;andturningtoMattieheaddedinahardvoice:“Youbereadybythree,Matt;I’vegotbusinessatCorbury.”
JothamPowellhadstartedforthebarn,andEthanstrodedownafterhimaflamewithanger.
Thepulsesinhistemplesthrobbedandafogwasinhiseyes.
Hewentabouthistaskwithoutknowingwhatforcedirectedhim,orwhosehandsandfeetwerefulfillingitsorders.
Itwasnottillheledoutthesorrelandbackedhimbetweentheshaftsofthesleighthatheoncemorebecameconsciousofwhathewasdoing.
Ashepassedthebridleoverthehorse’shead,andwoundthetracesaroundtheshafts,herememberedthedaywhenhehadmadethesamepreparationsinordertodriveoverandmeethiswife’scousinattheFlats.
Itwaslittlemorethanayearago,onjustsuchasoftafternoon,witha“feel”ofspringintheair.
Thesorrel,turningthesamebigringedeyeonhim,nuzzledthepalmofhishandinthesameway;andonebyoneallthedaysbetweenroseupandstoodbeforehim…
Heflungthebearskinintothesleigh,climbedtotheseat,anddroveuptothehouse.
Whenheenteredthekitchenitwasempty,butMattie’sbagandshawllayreadybythedoor.
Hewenttothefootofthestairsandlistened.
Nosoundreachedhimfromabove,butpresentlyhethoughtheheardsomeonemovingaboutinhisdesertedstudy,andpushingopenthedoorhesawMattie,inherhatandjacket,standingwithherbacktohimnearthetable.
Shestartedathisapproachandturningquickly,said:“Isittime?”
“Whatareyoudoinghere,Matt?”heaskedher.
Shelookedathimtimidly.“Iwasjusttakingalookround-that’sall,”sheanswered,withawaveringsmile.
Theywentbackintothekitchenwithoutspeaking,andEthanpickedupherbagandshawl.
“Where’sZeena?”heasked.
“Shewentupstairsrightafterdinner.Shesaidshehadthoseshootingpainsagain,anddidn’twanttobedisturbed.”
“Didn’tshesaygood-byetoyou?”
“No.Thatwasallshesaid.”
Ethan,lookingslowlyaboutthekitchen,saidtohimselfwithashudderthatinafewhourshewouldbereturningtoitalone.
Thenthesenseofunrealityovercamehimoncemore,andhecouldnotbringhimselftobelievethatMattiestoodthereforthelasttimebeforehim.
“Comeon,”hesaidalmostgaily,openingthedoorandputtingherbagintothesleigh.
Hesprangtohisseatandbentovertotucktherugaboutherassheslippedintotheplaceathisside.
“Nowthen,go‘long,”hesaid,withashakeofthereinsthatsentthesorrelplacidlyjoggingdownthehill.
“Wegotlotsoftimeforagoodride,Matt!”
hecried,seekingherhandbeneaththefurandpressingitinhis.
Hisfacetingledandhefeltdizzy,asifhehadstoppedinattheStarkfieldsaloononazerodayforadrink.
Atthegate,insteadofmakingforStarkfield,heturnedthesorreltotheright,uptheBettsbridgeroad.
Mattiesatsilent,givingnosignofsurprise;butafteramomentshesaid:“AreyougoingroundbyShadowPond?”
Helaughedandanswered:“Iknewyou’dknow!”
Shedrewcloserunderthebearskin,sothat,lookingsidewaysaroundhiscoat-sleeve,hecouldjustcatchthetipofhernoseandablownbrownwaveofhair.
Theydroveslowlyuptheroadbetweenfieldsglisteningunderthepalesun,andthenbenttotherightdownalaneedgedwithspruceandlarch.
Aheadofthem,alongwayoff,arangeofhillsstainedbymottlingsofblackforestflowedawayinroundwhitecurvesagainstthesky.
Thelanepassedintoapine-woodwithbolesreddeningintheafternoonsunanddelicateblueshadowsonthesnow.
Astheyentereditthebreezefellandawarmstillnessseemedtodropfromthebrancheswiththedroppingneedles.
Herethesnowwassopurethatthetinytracksofwood-animalshadleftonitintricatelace-likepatterns,andthebluishconescaughtinitssurfacestoodoutlikeornamentsofbronze.
Ethandroveoninsilencetilltheyreachedapartofthewoodwherethepinesweremorewidelyspaced,thenhedrewupandhelpedMattietogetoutofthesleigh.
Theypassedbetweenthearomatictrunks,thesnowbreakingcrisplyundertheirfeet,tilltheycametoasmallsheetofwaterwithsteepwoodedsides.
Acrossitsfrozensurface,fromthefartherbank,asinglehillrisingagainstthewesternsunthrewthelongconicalshadowwhichgavethelakeitsname.
Itwasashysecretspot,fullofthesamedumbmelancholythatEthanfeltinhisheart.
Helookedupanddownthelittlepebblybeachtillhiseyelitonafallentree-trunkhalfsubmergedinsnow.
“There’swherewesatatthepicnic,”heremindedher.
Theentertainmentofwhichhespokewasoneofthefewthattheyhadtakenpartintogether:a“churchpicnic”which,onalongafternoonoftheprecedingsummer,hadfilledtheretiredplacewithmerry-making.
Mattiehadbeggedhimtogowithherbuthehadrefused.
Then,towardsunset,comingdownfromthemountainwherehehadbeenfellingtimber,hehadbeencaughtbysomestrayedrevellersanddrawnintothegroupbythelake,whereMattie,encircledbyfacetiousyouths,andbrightasablackberryunderherspreadinghat,wasbrewingcoffeeoveragipsyfire.
Herememberedtheshynesshehadfeltatapproachingherinhisuncouthclothes,andthenthelightingupofherface,andthewayshehadbrokenthroughthegrouptocometohimwithacupinherhand.
Theyhadsatforafewminutesonthefallenlogbythepond,andshehadmissedhergoldlocket,andsettheyoungmensearchingforit;anditwasEthanwhohadspieditinthemoss….
Thatwasall;butalltheirintercoursehadbeenmadeupofjustsuchinarticulateflashes,whentheyseemedtocomesuddenlyuponhappinessasiftheyhadsurprisedabutterflyinthewinterwoods…
“ItwasrightthereIfoundyourlocket,”hesaid,pushinghisfootintoadensetuftofblueberrybushes.
“Ineversawanybodywithsuchsharpeyes!”sheanswered.
Shesatdownonthetree-trunkinthesunandhesatdownbesideher.
“Youwereasprettyasapictureinthatpinkhat,”hesaid.
Shelaughedwithpleasure.“Oh,Iguessitwasthehat!”sherejoined.
Theyhadneverbeforeavowedtheirinclinationsoopenly,andEthan,foramoment,hadtheillusionthathewasafreeman,wooingthegirlhemeanttomarry.
Helookedatherhairandlongedtotouchitagain,andtotellherthatitsmeltofthewoods;buthehadneverlearnedtosaysuchthings.
Suddenlysherosetoherfeetandsaid:“Wemustn’tstayhereanylonger.”
Hecontinuedtogazeathervaguely,onlyhalf-rousedfromhisdream.“There’splentyoftime,”heanswered.
Theystoodlookingateachotherasiftheeyesofeachwerestrainingtoabsorbandholdfasttheother’simage.
Therewerethingshehadtosaytoherbeforetheyparted,buthecouldnotsaytheminthatplaceofsummermemories,andheturnedandfollowedherinsilencetothesleigh.
Astheydroveawaythesunsankbehindthehillandthepine-bolesturnedfromredtogrey.
ByadevioustrackbetweenthefieldstheywoundbacktotheStarkfieldroad.
Undertheopenskythelightwasstillclear,withareflectionofcoldredontheeasternhills.
Theclumpsoftreesinthesnowseemedtodrawtogetherinruffledlumps,likebirdswiththeirheadsundertheirwings;andthesky,asitpaled,rosehigher,leavingtheearthmorealone.
AstheyturnedintotheStarkfieldroadEthansaid:“Matt,whatdoyoumeantodo?”
Shedidnotansweratonce,butatlengthshesaid:“I’lltrytogetaplaceinastore.”
“Youknowyoucan’tdoit.Thebadairandthestandingalldaynearlykilledyoubefore.”
“I’malotstrongerthanIwasbeforeIcametoStarkfield.”
“Andnowyou’regoingtothrowawayallthegoodit’sdoneyou!”
Thereseemedtobenoanswertothis,andagaintheydroveonforawhilewithoutspeaking.
Witheveryyardofthewaysomespotwheretheyhadstood,andlaughedtogetherorbeensilent,clutchedatEthananddraggedhimback.
“Isn’tthereanyofyourfather’sfolkscouldhelpyou?”
“Thereisn’tanyof‘emI’dask.”
Heloweredhisvoicetosay:“Youknowthere’snothingIwouldn’tdoforyouifIcould.”
“Iknowthereisn’t.”
“ButIcan’t-”
Shewassilent,buthefeltaslighttremorintheshoulderagainsthis.
“Oh,Matt,”hebrokeout,“ifIcouldha’gonewithyounowI’dha’doneit-”
Sheturnedtohim,pullingascrapofpaperfromherbreast.“Ethan-Ifoundthis,”shestammered.
Eveninthefailinglighthesawitwasthelettertohiswifethathehadbegunthenightbeforeandforgottentodestroy.
Throughhisastonishmentthereranafiercethrillofjoy.
“Matt-”hecried;“ifIcouldha’doneit,wouldyou?”
“Oh,Ethan,Ethan-what’stheuse?”Withasuddenmovementshetoretheletterinshredsandsentthemflutteringoffintothesnow.
“Tellme,Matt!Tellme!”headjuredher.
Shewassilentforamoment;thenshesaid,insuchalowtonethathehadtostoophisheadtohearher:“Iusedtothinkofitsometimes,summernights,whenthemoonwassobrightIcouldn’tsleep.”
Hisheartreeledwiththesweetnessofit.“Aslongagoasthat?”
Sheanswered,asifthedatehadlongbeenfixedforher:“ThefirsttimewasatShadowPond.”
“Wasthatwhyyougavememycoffeebeforetheothers?”
“Idon’tknow.DidI?
Iwasdreadfullyputoutwhenyouwouldn’tgotothepicnicwithme;andthen,whenIsawyoucomingdowntheroad,Ithoughtmaybeyou’dgonehomethatwayo’purpose;andthatmademeglad.”
Theyweresilentagain.TheyhadreachedthepointwheretheroaddippedtothehollowbyEthan’smillandastheydescendedthedarknessdescendedwiththem,droppingdownlikeablackveilfromtheheavyhemlockboughs.
“I’mtiedhandandfoot,Matt.Thereisn’tathingIcando,”hebeganagain.
“Youmustwritetomesometimes,Ethan.”
“Oh,whatgood’llwritingdo?Iwanttoputmyhandoutandtouchyou.Iwanttodoforyouandcareforyou.Iwanttobetherewhenyou’resickandwhenyou’relonesome.”
“Youmustn’tthinkbutwhatI’lldoallright.”
“Youwon’tneedme,youmean?Isupposeyou’llmarry!”
“Oh,Ethan!”shecried.
“Idon’tknowhowitisyoumakemefeel,Matt.I’da’mostratherhaveyoudeadthanthat!”
“Oh,IwishIwas,IwishIwas!”shesobbed.
Thesoundofherweepingshookhimoutofhisdarkanger,andhefeltashamed.
“Don’tlet’stalkthatway,”hewhispered.
“Whyshouldn’twe,whenit’strue?I’vebeenwishingiteveryminuteoftheday.”
“Matt!Youbequiet!Don’tyousayit.”
“There’sneveranybodybeengoodtomebutyou.”
“Don’tsaythateither,whenIcan’tliftahandforyou!”
“Yes;butit’struejustthesame.”
TheyhadreachedthetopofSchoolHouseHillandStarkfieldlaybelowtheminthetwilight.
Acutter,mountingtheroadfromthevillage,passedthembyinajoyousflutterofbells,andtheystraightenedthemselvesandlookedaheadwithrigidfaces.
Alongthemainstreetlightshadbeguntoshinefromthehouse-frontsandstrayfigureswereturninginhereandthereatthegates.
Ethan,withatouchofhiswhip,rousedthesorreltoalanguidtrot.
Astheydrewneartheendofthevillagethecriesofchildrenreachedthem,andtheysawaknotofboys,withsledsbehindthem,scatteringacrosstheopenspacebeforethechurch.
“Iguessthis’llbetheirlastcoastforadayortwo,”Ethansaid,lookingupatthemildsky.
Mattiewassilent,andheadded:“Weweretohavegonedownlastnight.”
Stillshedidnotspeakand,promptedbyanobscuredesiretohelphimselfandherthroughtheirmiserablelasthour,hewentondiscursively:“Ain’titfunnywehaven’tbeendowntogetherbutjustthatoncelastwinter?”
Sheanswered:“Itwasn’toftenIgotdowntothevillage.”
“That’sso,”hesaid.
TheyhadreachedthecrestoftheCorburyroad,andbetweentheindistinctwhiteglimmerofthechurchandtheblackcurtainoftheVarnumsprucestheslopestretchedawaybelowthemwithoutasledonitslength.
SomeerraticimpulsepromptedEthantosay:“How’dyoulikemetotakeyoudownnow?”
Sheforcedalaugh.“Why,thereisn’ttime!”
“There’sallthetimewewant.Comealong!”HisonedesirenowwastopostponethemomentofturningthesorreltowardtheFlats.
“Butthegirl,”shefaltered.“Thegirl’llbewaitingatthestation.”
“Well,letherwait.You’dhavetoifshedidn’t.Come!”
Thenoteofauthorityinhisvoiceseemedtosubdueher,andwhenhehadjumpedfromthesleighshelethimhelpherout,sayingonly,withavaguefeintofreluctance:“Butthereisn’tasledroundanywheres.”
“Yes,thereis!Rightoverthereunderthespruces.”
Hethrewthebearskinoverthesorrel,whostoodpassivelybytheroadside,hangingameditativehead.
ThenhecaughtMattie’shandanddrewherafterhimtowardthesled.
Sheseatedherselfobedientlyandhetookhisplacebehindher,soclosethatherhairbrushedhisface.“Allright,Matt?”hecalledout,asifthewidthoftheroadhadbeenbetweenthem.
Sheturnedherheadtosay:“It’sdreadfullydark.Areyousureyoucansee?”
Helaughedcontemptuously:“Icouldgodownthiscoastwithmyeyestied!”
andshelaughedwithhim,asifshelikedhisaudacity.
Neverthelesshesatstillamoment,straininghiseyesdownthelonghill,foritwasthemostconfusinghouroftheevening,thehourwhenthelastclearnessfromtheupperskyismergedwiththerisingnightinablurthatdisguiseslandmarksandfalsifiesdistances.
“Now!”hecried.
Thesledstartedwithabound,andtheyflewonthroughthedusk,gatheringsmoothnessandspeedastheywent,withthehollownightopeningoutbelowthemandtheairsingingbylikeanorgan.
Mattiesatperfectlystill,butastheyreachedthebendatthefootofthehill,wherethebigelmthrustoutadeadlyelbow,hefanciedthatsheshrankalittlecloser.
“Don’tbescared,Matt!”hecriedexultantly,astheyspunsafelypastitandflewdownthesecondslope;andwhentheyreachedthelevelgroundbeyond,andthespeedofthesledbegantoslacken,heheardhergivealittlelaughofglee.
Theysprangoffandstartedtowalkbackupthehill.EthandraggedthesledwithonehandandpassedtheotherthroughMattie’sarm.
“WereyouscaredI’drunyouintotheelm?”heaskedwithaboyishlaugh.
“ItoldyouIwasneverscaredwithyou,”sheanswered.
Thestrangeexaltationofhismoodhadbroughtononeofhisrarefitsofboastfulness.“Itisatrickyplace,though.
Theleastswerve,andwe’dneverha’comeupagain.
ButIcanmeasuredistancestoahair’s-breadth-alwayscould.”
Shemurmured:“Ialwayssayyou’vegotthesuresteye…”
Deepsilencehadfallenwiththestarlessdusk,andtheyleanedoneachotherwithoutspeaking;butateverystepoftheirclimbEthansaidtohimself:“It’sthelasttimewe’lleverwalktogether.”
Theymountedslowlytothetopofthehill.Whentheywereabreastofthechurchhestoopedhisheadtohertoask:“Areyoutired?”andsheanswered,breathingquickly:“Itwassplendid!”
WithapressureofhisarmheguidedhertowardtheNorwayspruces.“IguessthissledmustbeNedHale’s.AnyhowI’llleaveitwhereIfoundit.”
HedrewthesleduptotheVarnumgateandresteditagainstthefence.
AsheraisedhimselfhesuddenlyfeltMattieclosetohimamongtheshadows.
“IsthiswhereNedandRuthkissedeachother?”shewhisperedbreathlessly,andflungherarmsabouthim.Herlips,gropingforhis,sweptoverhisface,andheheldherfastinaraptureofsurprise.
“Good-bye-good-bye,”shestammered,andkissedhimagain.
“Oh,Matt,Ican’tletyougo!”brokefromhiminthesameoldcry.
Shefreedherselffromhisholdandheheardhersobbing.“Oh,Ican’tgoeither!”shewailed.
“Matt!What’llwedo?What’llwedo?”
Theyclungtoeachother’shandslikechildren,andherbodyshookwithdesperatesobs.
Throughthestillnesstheyheardthechurchclockstrikingfive.
“Oh,Ethan,it’stime!”shecried.
Hedrewherbacktohim.“Timeforwhat?Youdon’tsupposeI’mgoingtoleaveyounow?”
“IfImissedmytrainwhere’dIgo?”
“Whereareyougoingifyoucatchit?”
Shestoodsilent,herhandslyingcoldandrelaxedinhis.
“What’sthegoodofeitherofusgoinganywhereswithouttheotheronenow?”hesaid.
Sheremainedmotionless,asifshehadnotheardhim.
Thenshesnatchedherhandsfromhis,threwherarmsabouthisneck,andpressedasuddendrenchedcheekagainsthisface.“Ethan!Ethan!Iwantyoutotakemedownagain!”
“Downwhere?”
“Thecoast.Rightoff,”shepanted.“So‘twe’llnevercomeupanymore.”
“Matt!Whatonearthdoyoumean?”
Sheputherlipscloseagainsthiseartosay:“Rightintothebigelm.Yousaidyoucould.So‘twe’dneverhavetoleaveeachotheranymore.”
“Why,whatareyoutalkingof?You’recrazy!”
“I’mnotcrazy;butIwillbeifIleaveyou.”
“Oh,Matt,Matt-”hegroaned.
Shetightenedherfierceholdabouthisneck.Herfacelayclosetohisface.
“Ethan,where’llIgoifIleaveyou?Idon’tknowhowtogetalongalone.Yousaidsoyourselfjustnow.Nobodybutyouwasevergoodtome.
Andthere’llbethatstrangegirlinthehouse…andshe’llsleepinmybed,whereIusedtolaynightsandlistentohearyoucomeupthestairs…”
Thewordswerelikefragmentstornfromhisheart.
Withthemcamethehatedvisionofthehousehewasgoingbackto-ofthestairshewouldhavetogoupeverynight,ofthewomanwhowouldwaitforhimthere.
AndthesweetnessofMattie’savowal,thewildwonderofknowingatlastthatallthathadhappenedtohimhadhappenedtohertoo,madetheothervisionmoreabhorrent,theotherlifemoreintolerabletoreturnto…
Herpleadingsstillcametohimbetweenshortsobs,buthenolongerheardwhatshewassaying.
Herhathadslippedbackandhewasstrokingherhair.
Hewantedtogetthefeelingofitintohishand,sothatitwouldsleeptherelikeaseedinwinter.
Oncehefoundhermouthagain,andtheyseemedtobebythepondtogetherintheburningAugustsun.
Buthischeektouchedhers,anditwascoldandfullofweeping,andhesawtheroadtotheFlatsunderthenightandheardthewhistleofthetrainuptheline.
Thesprucesswathedtheminblacknessandsilence.
Theymighthavebeenintheircoffinsunderground.
Hesaidtohimself:“Perhapsit’llfeellikethis…”andthenagain:“AfterthisIsha’n’tfeelanything…”
Suddenlyheheardtheoldsorrelwhinnyacrosstheroad,andthought:“He’swonderingwhyhedoesn’tgethissupper…”
“Come!”Mattiewhispered,tuggingathishand.
Hersombreviolenceconstrainedhim:sheseemedtheembodiedinstrumentoffate.
Hepulledthesledout,blinkinglikeanight-birdashepassedfromtheshadeofthesprucesintothetransparentduskoftheopen.Theslopebelowthemwasdeserted.
AllStarkfieldwasatsupper,andnotafigurecrossedtheopenspacebeforethechurch.
Thesky,swollenwiththecloudsthatannounceathaw,hungaslowasbeforeasummerstorm.
Hestrainedhiseyesthroughthedimness,andtheyseemedlesskeen,lesscapablethanusual.
HetookhisseatonthesledandMattieinstantlyplacedherselfinfrontofhim.
Herhathadfallenintothesnowandhislipswereinherhair.
Hestretchedouthislegs,drovehisheelsintotheroadtokeepthesledfromslippingforward,andbentherheadbackbetweenhishands.Thensuddenlyhesprangupagain.
“Getup,”heorderedher.
Itwasthetoneshealwaysheeded,butshecowereddowninherseat,repeatingvehemently:“No,no,no!”
“Getup!”
“Why?”
“Iwanttositinfront.”
“No,no!Howcanyousteerinfront?”
“Idon’thaveto.We’llfollowthetrack.”
Theyspokeinsmotheredwhispers,asthoughthenightwerelistening.
“Getup!Getup!”heurgedher;butshekeptonrepeating:“Whydoyouwanttositinfront?”
“BecauseI-becauseIwanttofeelyouholdingme,”hestammered,anddraggedhertoherfeet.
Theanswerseemedtosatisfyher,orelsesheyieldedtothepowerofhisvoice.
Hebentdown,feelingintheobscurityfortheglassyslidewornbyprecedingcoasters,andplacedtherunnerscarefullybetweenitsedges.
Shewaitedwhileheseatedhimselfwithcrossedlegsinthefrontofthesled;thenshecrouchedquicklydownathisbackandclaspedherarmsabouthim.
Herbreathinhisnecksethimshudderingagain,andhealmostsprangfromhisseat.
Butinaflashherememberedthealternative.
Shewasright:thiswasbetterthanparting.
Heleanedbackanddrewhermouthtohis…
Justastheystartedheheardthesorrel’swhinnyagain,andthefamiliarwistfulcall,andalltheconfusedimagesitbroughtwithit,wentwithhimdownthefirstreachoftheroad.
Half-waydowntherewasasuddendrop,thenarise,andafterthatanotherlongdeliriousdescent.
Astheytookwingforthisitseemedtohimthattheywereflyingindeed,flyingfarupintothecloudynight,withStarkfieldimmeasurablybelowthem,fallingawaylikeaspeckinspace…Thenthebigelmshotupahead,lyinginwaitforthematthebendoftheroad,andhesaidbetweenhisteeth:“Wecanfetchit;Iknowwecanfetchit-”
AstheyflewtowardthetreeMattiepressedherarmstighter,andherbloodseemedtobeinhisveins.
Onceortwicethesledswervedalittleunderthem.
Heslantedhisbodytokeepitheadedfortheelm,repeatingtohimselfagainandagain:“Iknowwecanfetchit”;andlittlephrasesshehadspokenranthroughhisheadanddancedbeforehimontheair.
Thebigtreeloomedbiggerandcloser,andastheyboredownonithethought:“It’swaitingforus:itseemstoknow.”
Butsuddenlyhiswife’sface,withtwistedmonstrouslineaments,thrustitselfbetweenhimandhisgoal,andhemadeaninstinctivemovementtobrushitaside.
Thesledswervedinresponse,butherighteditagain,keptitstraight,anddrovedownontheblackprojectingmass.
Therewasalastinstantwhentheairshotpasthimlikemillionsoffierywires;andthentheelm…
Theskywasstillthick,butlookingstraightuphesawasinglestar,andtriedvaguelytoreckonwhetheritwereSirius,or-or-Theefforttiredhimtoomuch,andheclosedhisheavylidsandthoughtthathewouldsleep…Thestillnesswassoprofoundthatheheardalittleanimaltwitteringsomewherenearbyunderthesnow.
Itmadeasmallfrightenedcheeplikeafieldmouse,andhewonderedlanguidlyifitwerehurt.
Thenheunderstoodthatitmustbeinpain:painsoexcruciatingthatheseemed,mysteriously,tofeelitshootingthroughhisownbody.
Hetriedinvaintorolloverinthedirectionofthesound,andstretchedhisleftarmoutacrossthesnow.
Andnowitwasasthoughhefeltratherthanheardthetwittering;itseemedtobeunderhispalm,whichrestedonsomethingsoftandspringy.
Thethoughtoftheanimal’ssufferingwasintolerabletohimandhestruggledtoraisehimself,andcouldnotbecausearock,orsomehugemass,seemedtobelyingonhim.
Buthecontinuedtofingeraboutcautiouslywithhislefthand,thinkinghemightgetholdofthelittlecreatureandhelpit;andallatonceheknewthatthesoftthinghehadtouchedwasMattie’shairandthathishandwasonherface.
Hedraggedhimselftohisknees,themonstrousloadonhimmovingwithhimashemoved,andhishandwentoverandoverherface,andhefeltthatthetwitteringcamefromherlips…
Hegothisfacedownclosetohers,withhiseartohermouth,andinthedarknesshesawhereyesopenandheardhersayhisname.
“Oh,Matt,Ithoughtwe’dfetchedit,”hemoaned;andfaroff,upthehill,heheardthesorrelwhinny,andthought:“Ioughttobegettinghimhisfeed…”
ThequerulousdroneceasedasIenteredFrome’skitchen,andofthetwowomensittingthereIcouldnottellwhichhadbeenthespeaker.
Oneofthem,onmyappearing,raisedhertallbonyfigurefromherseat,notasiftowelcomeme-forshethrewmenomorethanabriefglanceofsurprise-butsimplytosetaboutpreparingthemealwhichFrome’sabsencehaddelayed.
Aslatternlycalicowrapperhungfromhershouldersandthewispsofherthingreyhairweredrawnawayfromahighforeheadandfastenedatthebackbyabrokencomb.
Shehadpaleopaqueeyeswhichrevealednothingandreflectednothing,andhernarrowlipswereofthesamesallowcolourasherface.
Theotherwomanwasmuchsmallerandslighter.
Shesathuddledinanarm-chairnearthestove,andwhenIcameinsheturnedherheadquicklytowardme,withouttheleastcorrespondingmovementofherbody.
Herhairwasasgreyashercompanion’s,herfaceasbloodlessandshrivelled,butamber-tinted,withswarthyshadowssharpeningthenoseandhollowingthetemples.
Underhershapelessdressherbodykeptitslimpimmobility,andherdarkeyeshadthebrightwitch-likestarethatdiseaseofthespinesometimesgives.
Evenforthatpartofthecountrythekitchenwasapoor-lookingplace.
Withtheexceptionofthedark-eyedwoman’schair,whichlookedlikeasoiledrelicofluxuryboughtatacountryauction,thefurniturewasoftheroughestkind.
Threecoarsechinaplatesandabroken-nosedmilk-jughadbeensetonagreasytablescoredwithknife-cuts,andacoupleofstraw-bottomedchairsandakitchendresserofunpaintedpinestoodmeagrelyagainsttheplasterwalls.
“My,it’scoldhere!Thefiremustbe‘mostout,”Fromesaid,glancingabouthimapologeticallyashefollowedmein.
Thetallwoman,whohadmovedawayfromustowardthedresser,tooknonotice;buttheother,fromhercushionedniche,answeredcomplainingly,inahighthinvoice.
“It’son’yjustbeenmadeupthisveryminute.
Zeenafellasleepandslep’eversolong,andIthoughtI’dbefrozenstiffbeforeIcouldwakeherupandgetherto‘tendtoit.”
Iknewthenthatitwasshewhohadbeenspeakingwhenweentered.
Hercompanion,whowasjustcomingbacktothetablewiththeremainsofacoldmince-pieinabatteredpie-dish,setdownherunappetisingburdenwithoutappearingtoheartheaccusationbroughtagainsther.
Fromestoodhesitatinglybeforeherassheadvanced;thenhelookedatmeandsaid:“Thisismywife,Mis’Frome.”
Afteranotherintervalheadded,turningtowardthefigureinthearm-chair:“AndthisisMissMattieSilver…”
Mrs.Hale,tendersoul,hadpicturedmeaslostintheFlatsandburiedunderasnow-drift;andsolivelywashersatisfactiononseeingmesafelyrestoredtoherthenextmorningthatIfeltmyperilhadcausedmetoadvanceseveraldegreesinherfavour.
Greatwasheramazement,andthatofoldMrs.Varnum,onlearningthatEthanFrome’soldhorsehadcarriedmetoandfromCorburyJunctionthroughtheworstblizzardofthewinter;greaterstilltheirsurprisewhentheyheardthathismasterhadtakenmeinforthenight.
BeneaththeirwonderingexclamationsIfeltasecretcuriositytoknowwhatimpressionsIhadreceivedfrommynightintheFromehousehold,anddivinedthatthebestwayofbreakingdowntheirreservewastoletthemtrytopenetratemine.
Ithereforeconfinedmyselftosaying,inamatter-of-facttone,thatIhadbeenreceivedwithgreatkindness,andthatFromehadmadeabedformeinaroomontheground-floorwhichseemedinhappierdaystohavebeenfittedupasakindofwriting-roomorstudy.
“Well,”Mrs.Halemused,“insuchastormIsupposehefelthecouldn’tdolessthantakeyouin-butIguessitwenthardwithEthan.
Idon’tbelievebutwhatyou’retheonlystrangerhassetfootinthathouseforovertwentyyears.
He’sthatproudhedon’tevenlikehisoldestfriendstogothere;andIdon’tknowasanydo,anymore,exceptmyselfandthedoctor…”
“Youstillgothere,Mrs.Hale?”Iventured.
“Iusedtogoagooddealaftertheaccident,whenIwasfirstmarried;butafterawhileIgottothinkitmade‘emfeelworsetoseeus.
Andthenonethingandanothercame,andmyowntroubles…ButIgenerallymakeouttodriveoverthereroundaboutNewYear’s,andonceinthesummer.
OnlyIalwaystrytopickadaywhenEthan’soffsomewheres.
It’sbadenoughtoseethetwowomensittingthere-buthisface,whenhelooksroundthatbareplace,justkillsme…Yousee,Icanlookbackandcallitupinhismother’sday,beforetheirtroubles.”
OldMrs.Varnum,bythistime,hadgoneuptobed,andherdaughterandIweresittingalone,aftersupper,intheaustereseclusionofthehorse-hairparlour.
Mrs.Haleglancedatmetentatively,asthoughtryingtoseehowmuchfootingmyconjecturesgaveher;andIguessedthatifshehadkeptsilencetillnowitwasbecauseshehadbeenwaiting,throughalltheyears,forsomeonewhoshouldseewhatshealonehadseen.
IwaitedtolethertrustinmegatherstrengthbeforeIsaid:“Yes,it’sprettybad,seeingallthreeofthemtheretogether.”
Shedrewhermildbrowsintoafrownofpain.“Itwasjustawfulfromthebeginning.
Iwashereinthehousewhentheywerecarriedup-theylaidMattieSilverintheroomyou’rein.
SheandIweregreatfriends,andshewastohavebeenmybridesmaidinthespring…WhenshecametoIwentuptoherandstayedallnight.
Theygaveherthingstoquiether,andshedidn’tknowmuchtillto’rdmorning,andthenallofasuddenshewokeupjustlikeherself,andlookedstraightatmeoutofherbigeyes,andsaid…Oh,Idon’tknowwhyI’mtellingyouallthis,”Mrs.Halebrokeoff,crying.
Shetookoffherspectacles,wipedthemoisturefromthem,andputthemonagainwithanunsteadyhand.
“Itgotaboutthenextday,”shewenton,“thatZeenaFromehadsentMattieoffinahurrybecauseshehadahiredgirlcoming,andthefolksherecouldneverrightlytellwhatsheandEthanweredoingthatnightcoasting,whenthey’doughttohavebeenontheirwaytotheFlatstoketchthetrain…IneverknewmyselfwhatZeenathought-Idon’ttothisday.NobodyknowsZeena’sthoughts.
Anyhow,whensheheardo’theaccidentshecamerightinandstayedwithEthanovertotheminister’s,wherethey’dcarriedhim.
AndassoonasthedoctorssaidthatMattiecouldbemoved,Zeenasentforherandtookherbacktothefarm.”
“Andthereshe’sbeeneversince?”
Mrs.Haleansweredsimply:“Therewasnowhereelseforhertogo;”andmyhearttightenedatthethoughtofthehardcompulsionsofthepoor.
“Yes,thereshe’sbeen,”Mrs.Halecontinued,“andZeena’sdoneforher,anddoneforEthan,asgoodasshecould.
Itwasamiracle,consideringhowsickshewas-butsheseemedtoberaisedrightupjustwhenthecallcametoher.
Notasshe’severgivenupdoctoring,andshe’shadsickspellsrightalong;butshe’shadthestrengthgivenhertocareforthosetwoforovertwentyyears,andbeforetheaccidentcameshethoughtshecouldn’tevencareforherself.”
Mrs.Halepausedamoment,andIremainedsilent,plungedinthevisionofwhatherwordsevoked.“It’shorribleforthemall,”Imurmured.
“Yes:it’sprettybad.Andtheyain’tanyof‘emeasypeopleeither.
Mattiewas,beforetheaccident;Ineverknewasweeternature.
Butshe’ssufferedtoomuch-that’swhatIalwayssaywhenfolkstellmehowshe’ssoured.AndZeena,shewasalwayscranky.
NotbutwhatshebearswithMattiewonderful-I’veseenthatmyself.
Butsometimesthetwoofthemgetgoingateachother,andthenEthan’sface’dbreakyourheart…WhenIseethat,Ithinkit’shimthatsuffersmost…anyhowitain’tZeena,becausesheain’tgotthetime…It’sapity,though,”Mrs.Haleended,sighing,“thatthey’reallshutupthere’nthatonekitchen.
Inthesummertime,onpleasantdays,theymoveMattieintotheparlour,oroutinthedoor-yard,andthatmakesiteasier…butwintersthere’sthefirestobethoughtof;andthereain’tadimetospareupattheFromes.’”
Mrs.Haledrewadeepbreath,asthoughhermemorywereeasedofitslongburden,andshehadnomoretosay;butsuddenlyanimpulseofcompleteavowalseizedher.
Shetookoffherspectaclesagain,leanedtowardmeacrossthebead-worktable-cover,andwentonwithloweredvoice:“Therewasoneday,aboutaweekaftertheaccident,whentheyallthoughtMattiecouldn’tlive.Well,Isayit’sapityshedid.
Isaiditrightouttoourministeronce,andhewasshockedatme.
Onlyhewasn’twithmethatmorningwhenshefirstcameto…AndIsay,ifshe’dha’died,Ethanmightha’lived;andthewaytheyarenow,Idon’tsee’sthere’smuchdifferencebetweentheFromesupatthefarmandtheFromesdowninthegraveyard;‘ceptthatdowntherethey’reallquiet,andthewomenhavegottoholdtheirtongues.”
THEEND.
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