还乡The Return Of The Native-第78部分

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ng　seemed　a　loud　noise　in　the　general　silence　which　prevailed；　but　on　going　to　the　door　Clym　found　it　unfastened；　the　young　girl　who　attended　upon　Eustacia　being　astir　in　the　back　part　of　the　premises。　　Yeobright　entered　and　went　straight　to　his　wife’s　room。　
The　noise　of　his　arrival　must　have　aroused　her；　for　when　he　opened　the　door　she　was　standing　before　the　looking　glass　in　her　nightdress；　the　ends　of　her　hair　gathered　into　one　hand；　with　which　she　was　coiling　the　whole　mass　round　her　head；　previous　to　beginning　toilette　operations。　　She　was　not　a　woman　given　to　speaking　first　at　a　meeting；　and　she　allowed　Clym　to　walk　across　in　silence；　without　turning　her　head。　　He　came　behind　her；　and　she　saw　his　face　in　the　glass。　　It　was　ashy；　haggard；　and　terrible。　　Instead　of　starting　towards　him　in　sorrowful　surprise；　as　even　Eustacia；　undemonstrative　wife　as　she　was；　would　have　done　in　days　before　she　burdened　herself　with　a　secret；　she　remained　motionless；　looking　at　him　in　the　glass。　　And　while　she　looked　the　carmine　flush　with　which　warmth　and　sound　sleep　had　suffused　her　cheeks　and　neck　dissolved　from　view；　and　the　deathlike　pallor　in　his　face　flew　across　into　hers。　　He　was　close　enough　to　see　this；　and　the　sight　instigated　his　tongue。　
“You　know　what　is　the　matter；”　he　said　huskily。　
“I　see　it　in　your　face。”
Her　hand　relinquished　the　rope　of　hair　and　dropped　to　her　side；　and　the　pile　of　tresses；　no　longer　supported；　fell　from　the　crown　of　her　head　about　her　shoulders　and　over　the　white　nightgown。　　She　made　no　reply。　
“Speak　to　me；”　said　Yeobright　peremptorily。　
The　blanching　process　did　not　cease　in　her；　and　her　lips　now　became　as　white　as　her　face。　　She　turned　to　him　and　said；　“Yes；　Clym；　I’ll　speak　to　you。　　Why　do　you　return　so　early？　　Can　I　do　anything　for　you？”
“Yes；　you　can　listen　to　me。　　It　seems　that　my　wife　is　not　very　well？”
“Why？”
“Your　face；　my　dear；　your　face。　　Or　perhaps　it　is　the　pale　morning　light　which　takes　your　colour　away？　　Now　I　am　going　to　reveal　a　secret　to　you。　　Ha…ha！”
“O；　that　is　ghastly！”
“What？”
“Your　laugh。”
“There’s　reason　for　ghastliness。　　Eustacia；　you　have　held　my　happiness　in　the　hollow　of　your　hand；　and　like　a　devil　you　have　dashed　it　down！”
She　started　back　from　the　dressing…table；　retreated　a　few　steps　from　him；　and　looked　him　in　the　face。　　“Ah！　you　think　to　frighten　me；”　she　said；　with　a　slight　laugh。　　“Is　it　worth　while？　　I　am　undefended；　and　alone。”
“How　extraordinary！”
“What　do　you　mean？”
“As　there　is　ample　time　I　will　tell　you；　though　you　know　well　enough。　　I　mean　that　it　is　extraordinary　that　you　should　be　alone　in　my　absence。　　Tell　me；　now；　where　is　he　who　was　with　you　on　the　afternoon　of　the　thirty…first　of　August？　　Under　the　bed？　　Up　the　chimney？”
A　shudder　overcame　her　and　shook　the　light　fabric　of　her　nightdress　throughout。　　“I　do　not　remember　dates　so　exactly；”　she　said。　　“I　cannot　recollect　that　anybody　was　with　me　besides　yourself。”
“The　day　I　mean；”　said　Yeobright；　his　voice　growing　louder　and　harsher；　“was　the　day　you　shut　the　door　against　my　mother　and　killed　her。　　O；　it　is　too　much—too　bad！”　He　leant　over　the　footpiece　of　the　bedstead　for　a　few　moments；　with　his　back　towards　her；　then　rising　again—“Tell　me；　tell　me！　tell　me—do　you　hear？”　he　cried；　rushing　up　to　her　and　seizing　her　by　the　loose　folds　of　her　sleeve。　
The　superstratum　of　timidity　which　often　overlies　those　who　are　daring　and　defiant　at　heart　had　been　passed　through；　and　the　mettlesome　substance　of　the　woman　was　reached。　　The　red　blood　inundated　her　face；　previously　so　pale。　
“What　are　you　going　to　do？”　she　said　in　a　low　voice；　regarding　him　with　a　proud　smile。　　“You　will　not　alarm　me　by　holding　on　so；　but　it　would　be　a　pity　to　tear　my　sleeve。”
Instead　of　letting　go　he　drew　her　closer　to　him。　　“Tell　me
the　particulars　of—my　mother’s　death；”　he　said　in　a　hard；
panting　whisper；　“or—I’ll—I’ll—“
“Clym；”　she　answered　slowly；　“do　you　think　you　dare　do　anything　to　me　that　I　dare　not　bear？　　But　before　you　strike　me　listen。　　You　will　get　nothing　from　me　by　a　blow；　even　though　it　should　kill　me；　as　it　probably　will。　　But　perhaps　you　do　not　wish　me　to　speak—killing　may　be　all　you　mean？”
“Kill　you！　Do　you　expect　it？”
“I　do。”
“Why？”
“No　less　degree　of　rage　against　me　will　match　your　previous　grief　for　her。”
“Phew—I　shall　not　kill　you；”　he　said　contemptuously；　as　if　under　a　sudden　change　of　purpose。　　“I　did　think　of　it；　but—I　shall　not。　　That　would　be　making　a　martyr　of　you；　and　sending　you　to　where　she　is；　and　I　would　keep　you　away　from　her　till　the　universe　e　to　an　end；　if　I　could。”
“I　almost　wish　you　would　kill　me；”　said　she　with　gloomy　bitterness。　　“It　is　with　no　strong　desire；　I　assure　you；　that　I　play　the　part　I　have　lately　played　on　earth。　　You　are　no　blessing；　my　husband。”
“You　shut　the　door—you　looked　out　of　the　window　upon　her—you　had　a　man　in　the　house　with　you—you　sent　her　away　to　die。　　The　inhumanity—the　treachery—I　will　not　touch　you—stand　away　from　me—and　confess　every　word！”
“Never！　I’ll　hold　my　tongue　like　the　very　death　that　I　don’t　mind　meeting；　even　though　I　can　clear　myself　of　half　you　believe　by　speaking。　　Yes。　　I　will！　Who　of　any　dignity　would　take　the　trouble　to　clear　cobwebs　from　a　wild　man’s　mind　after　such　language　as　this？　　No；　let　him　go　on；　and　think　his　narrow　thoughts；　and　run　his　head　into　the　mire。　　I　have　other　cares。”
“’Tis　too　much—but　I　must　spare　you。”
“Poor　charity。”
“By　my　wretched　soul　you　sting　me；　Eustacia！　I　can　keep　it　up；　and　hotly　too。　　Now；　then；　madam；　tell　me　his　name！”
“Never；　I　am　resolved。”
“How　often　does　he　write　to　you？　　Where　does　he　put　his　letters—when　does　he　meet　you？　　Ah；　his　letters！　Do　you　tell　me　his　name？”
“I　do　not。”
“Then　I’ll　find　it　myself。”　　His　eyes　had　fallen　upon　a　small　desk　that　stood　near；　on　which　she　was　accustomed　to　write　her　letters。　　He　went　to　it。　　It　was　locked。　
“Unlock　this！”
“You　have　no　right　to　say　it。　　That’s　mine。”
Without　another　word　he　seized　the　desk　and　dashed　it　to　the　floor。　　The　hinge　burst　open；　and　a　number　of　letters　tumbled　out。　
“Stay！”　said　Eustacia；　stepping　before　him　with　more　excitement　than　she　had　hitherto　shown。　
“e；　e！　stand　away！　I　must　see　them。”
She　looked　at　the　letters　as　they　lay；　checked　her　feeling　and　moved　indifferently　aside；　when　he　gathered　them　up；　and　examined　them。　
By　no　stretch　of　meaning　could　any　but　a　harmless　construction　be　placed　upon　a　single　one　of　the　letters　themselves。　　The　solitary　exception　was　an　empty　envelope　directed　to　her；　and　the　handwriting　was　Wildeve’s。　Yeobright　held　it　up。　　Eustacia　was　doggedly　silent。　
“Can　you　read；　madam？　　Look　at　this　envelope。　　Doubtless　we　shall　find　more　soon；　and　what　was　inside　them。　　I　shall　no　doubt　be　gratified　by　learning　in　good　time　what　a　well…finished　and　full…blown　adept　in　a　certain　trade　my　lady　is。”
“Do　you　say　it　to　me—do　you？”　she　gasped。　
He　searched　further；　but　found　nothing　more。　　“What　was　in　this　letter？”　he　said。　
“Ask　the　writer。　　Am　I　your　hound　that　you　should　talk　to　me　in　this　way？”
“Do　you　brave　me？　　do　you　stand　me　out；　mistress？　　Answer。　　Don’t　look　at　me　with　those　eyes　if　you　would　bewitch　me　again！　Sooner　than　that　I　die。　　You　refuse　to　answer？”
“I　wouldn’t　tell　you　after　this；　if　I　were　as　innocent　as　the　sweetest　babe　in　heaven！”
“Which　you　are　not。”
“Certainly　I　am　not　absolutely；”　she　replied。　　“I　have　not　done　what　you　suppose；　but　if　to　have　done　no　harm　at　all　is　the　only　innocence　recognized；　I　am　beyond　forgiveness。　　But　I　require　no　help　from　your　conscience。”
“You　can　resist；　and　resist　again！　Instead　of　hating　you　I　could；　I　think；　mourn　for　and　pity　you；　if　you　were　contrite；　and　would　confess　all。　　Forgive　you　I　never　can。　　I　don’t　speak　of　your　lover—I　will　give　you　the　benefit　of　the　doubt　in　that　matter；　for　it　only　affects　me　personally。　　But　the　other—had　you　half…killed　me；　had　it　been　that　you　wilfully　took　the　sight　away　from　these　feeble　eyes　of　mine；　I　could　have　forgiven　you。　　But　THAT’S　too　much　for　nature！”
“Say　no　more。　　I　will　do　without　your　pity。　　But　I　would　have　saved　you　from