The Rainbow-虹(英文版)-第92部分

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Indiawithin　three　weeks　of　his　arrival　there。　In　a
month's　time　she　would　receive　word　from　him。　Then　she　would
go。

She　。　She　thought　only　of　preparing　her
garments　and　of　living　quietly；　peacefully；　till　the　time　when
she　should　join　him　again　and　her　history　would　be　concluded　for
ever。　The　peace　held　like　an　unnatural　calm　for　a　long　time。　She
was　aware；　however；　of　a　gathering　restiveness；　a　tumult
impending　within　her。　She　tried　to　run　away　from　it。　She　wished
she　could　hear　from　Skrebensky；　in　answer　to　her　letter；　so　that
her　course　should　be　resolved；　she　should　be　engaged　in
fulfilling　her　fate。　It　was　this　inactivity　which　made　her
liable　to　the　revulsion　she　dreaded。

It　was　curious　how　little　she　cared　about　his　not　having
written　to　her　before。　It　was　enough　that　she　had　sent　her
letter。　She　would　get　the　required　answer；　that　was　all。

One　afternoon　in　early　October；　feeling　the　seething　rising
to　madness　within　her；　she　slipped　out　in　the　rain；　to　walk
abroad；　lest　the　house　should　suffocate　her。　Everywhere　was
drenched　wet　and　deserted；　the　grimed　houses　glowed　dull　red；
the　butt　houses　burned　scarlet　in　a　gleam　of　light；　under　the
glistening；　blackish　purple　slates。　Ursula　went　on　towards
Willey　Green。　She　lifted　her　face　and　walked　swiftly；　seeing　the
passage　of　light　across　the　shallow　valley；　seeing　the　colliery
and　its　clouds　of　steam　for　a　moment　visionary　in　dim
brilliance；　away　in　the　chaos　of　rain。　Then　the　veils　closed
again。　She　was　glad　of　the　rain's　privacy　and　intimacy。

Making　on　towards　the　wood；　she　saw　the　pale　gleam　of　Willey
Water　through　the　cloud　below；　she　walked　the　open　space　where
hawthorn　trees　streamed　like　hair　on　the　wind　and　round　bushes
were　presences　slowing　through　the　atmosphere。　It　was　very
splendid；　free　and　chaotic。

Yet　she　hurried　to　the　wood　for　shelter。　There；　the　vast
booming　overhead　vibrated　down　and　encircled　her；　treetrunks
spanned　the　circle　of　tremendous　sound；　myriads　of　treetrunks；
enormous　and　streaked　black　with　water；　thrust　like　stanchions
upright　between　the　roaring　overhead　and　the　sweeping　of　the
circle　underfoot。　She　glided　between　the　treetrunks；　afraid　of
them。　They　might　turn　and　shut　her　in　as　she　went　through　their
martialled　silence。

So　she　flitted　along；　keeping　an　illusion　that　she　was
unnoticed。　She　felt　like　a　bird　that　has　flown　in　through　the
window　of　a　hall　where　vast　warriors　sit　at　the　board。　Between
their　grave；　booming　ranks　she　was　hastening；　assuming　she　was
unnoticed；　till　she　emerged；　with　beating　heart；　through　the　far
window　and　out　into　the　open；　upon　the　vivid　green；　marshy
meadow。

She　turned　under　the　shelter　of　the　mon；　seeing　the　great
veils　of　rain　swinging　with　slow；　floating　waves　across　the
landscape。　She　was　very　wet　and　a　long　way　from　home；　far
enveloped　in　the　rain　and　the　waving　landscape。　She　must　beat
her　way　back　through　all　this　fluctuation；　back　to　stability　and
security。

A　solitary　thing；　she　took　the　track　straight　across　the
wilderness；　going　back。　The　path　was　a　narrow　groove　in　the　turf
between　high；　sere；　tussocky　grass；　it　was　scarcely　more　than　a
rabbit　run。　So　she　moved　swiftly　along；　watching　her　footing；
going　like　a　bird　on　the　wind；　with　no　thought；　contained　in
motion。　But　her　heart　had　a　small；　living　seed　of　fear；　as　she
went　through　the　wash　of　hollow　space。

Suddenly　she　knew　there　was　something　else。　Some　horses　were
looming　in　the　rain；　not　near　yet。　But　they　were　going　to　be
near。　She　continued　her　path；　inevitably。　They　were　horses　in
the　lee　of　a　clump　of　trees　beyond；　above　her。　She　pursued　her
way　with　bent　head。　She　did　not　want　to　lift　her　face　to　them。
She　did　not　want　to　know　they　were　there。　She　went　on　in　the
wild　track。

She　knew　the　heaviness　on　her　heart。　It　was　the　weight　of　the
horses。　But　she　would　circumvent　them。　She　would　bear　the　weight
steadily；　and　so　escape。　She　would　go　straight　on；　and　on；　and
be　gone　by。

Suddenly　the　weight　deepened　and　her　heart　grew　tense　to　bear
it。　Her　breathing　was　laboured。　But　this　weight　also　she　could
bear。　She　knew　without　looking　that　the　horses　were　moving
nearer。　What　were　they？　She　felt　the　thud　of　their　heavy　hoofs
on　the　ground。　What　was　it　that　was　drawing　near　her；　what
weight　oppressing　her　heart？　She　did　not　know；　she　did　not
look。

Yet　now　her　way　was　cut　off。　They　were　blocking　her　back。　She
knew　they　had　gathered　on　a　log　bridge　over　the　sedgy　dike；　a
dark；　heavy；　powerfully　heavy　knot。　Yet　her　feet　went　on　and　on。
They　would　burst　before　her。　They　would　burst　before　her。　Her
feet　went　on　and　on。　And　tense；　and　more　tense　became　her　nerves
and　her　veins；　they　ran　hot；　they　ran　white　hot；　they　must　fuse
and　she　must　die。

But　the　horses　had　burst　before　her。　In　a　sort　of　lightning
of　knowledge　their　movement　travelled　through　her；　the　quiver
and　strain　and　thrust　of　their　powerful　flanks；　as　they　burst
before　her　and　drew　on；　beyond。

She　knew　they　had　not　gone；　she　knew　they　awaited　her　still。
But　she　went　on　over　the　log　bridge　that　their　hoofs　had　churned
and　drummed；　she　went　on；　knowing　things　about　them。　She　was
aware　of　their　breasts　gripped；　clenched　narrow　in　a　hold　that
never　relaxed；　she　was　aware　of　their　red　nostrils　flaming　with
long　endurance；　and　of　their　haunches；　so　rounded；　so　massive；
pressing；　pressing；　pressing　to　burst　the　grip　upon　their
breasts；　pressing　for　ever　till　they　went　mad；　running　against
the　walls　of　time；　and　never　bursting　free。　Their　great　haunches
were　smoothed　and　darkened　with　rain。　But　the　darkness　and
wetness　of　rain　could　not　put　out　the　hard；　urgent；　massive　fire
that　was　locked　within　these　flanks；　never；　never。

She　went　on；　drawing　near。　She　was　aware　of　the　great　flash
of　hoofs；　a　bluish；　iridescent　flash　surrounding　a　hollow　of
darkness。　Large；　large　seemed　the　bluish；　incandescent　flash　of
the　hoofiron；　large　as　a　halo　of　lightning　round　the　knotted
darkness　of　the　flanks。　Like　circles　of　lightning　came　the　flash
of　hoofs　from　out　of　the　powerful　flanks。

They　were　awaiting　her　again。　They　had　gathered　under　an　oak
tree；　knotting　their　awful；　blind；　triumphing　flanks　together；
and　waiting；　waiting。　They　were　waiting　for　her　approach。　As　if
from　a　far　distance　she　was　drawing　near；　towards　the　line　of
twiggy　oak　trees　where　they　made　their　intense　darkness；
gathered　on　a　single　bank。

She　must　draw　near。　But　they　broke　away；　they　cantered　round；
making　a　wide　circle　to　avoid　noticing　her；　and　cantered　back
into　the　open　hillside　behind　her。

They　were　behind　her。　The　way　was　open　before　her；　to　the
gate　in　the　high　hedge　in　the　near　distance；　so　she　could　pass
into　the　smaller；　cultivated　field；　and　so　out　to　the　highroad
and　the　ordered　world　of　man。　Her　way　was　clear。　She　lulled　her
heart。　Yet　her　heart　was　couched　with　fear；　couched　with　fear
all　along。

Suddenly　she　hesitated　as　if　seized　by　lightning。　She　seemed
to　fall；　yet　found　herself　faltering　forward　with　small　steps。
The　thunder　of　horses　galloping　down　the　path　behind　her　shook
her；　the　weight　came　down　upon　her；　down；　to　the　moment　of
extinction。　She　could　not　look　round；　so　the　horses　thundered
upon　her。

Cruelly；　they　swerved　and　crashed　by　on　her　left　hand。　She
saw　the　fierce　flanks　crinkled　and　as　yet　inadequate；　the　great
hoofs　flashing　bright　as　yet　only　brandished　about　her；　and　one
by　one　the　horses　crashed　by；　intent；　working　themselves　up。

They　had　gone　by；　brandishing　themselves　thunderously　about
her；　enclosing　her。　They　slackened　their　burst　transport；　they
slowed　down；　and　cantered　together　into　a　knot　once　more；　in　the
corner　by　the　gate　and　the　trees　ahead　of　her。　They　stirred；
they　moved　uneasily；　they　settled　their　uneasy　flanks　into　one
group；　one　purpose。　They　were　up　against　her。

Her　heart　was　gone；　she　had　no　more　heart。　She　knew　she　dare
not　draw　near。　That　concentrated；　knitted　flank　of　the
horsegroup　had　conquered。　It　stirred　uneasily；　awaiting　her；
knowing　its　triumph。　It　stirred　uneasily；　with　the　uneasiness　of
awaited　triumph。　Her　heart　was　gone；　her　limbs　were　dissolved；
she　was　dissolved　like　water。　All　the　hardness　and　looming　power
was　in　the　massive　body　of　the　horsegroup。

Her　feet　faltered；　she　came　to　a　standstill。　It　was　the
crisis。　The　horses　stirred　their　flanks　uneasily。　She　looked
away；　failing。　On　her　left；　two　hundred　yards　down　the　slope；
the　thick　hedge　ran　parallel。　At　one　point　there　was　an　oak
tree。　She　might　climb　into　the　boughs　of　that　oak　tree；　and　so
round　and　drop　on　the　other　side　of　the　hedge。

Shuddering；　with　limbs　like　water；　dreading　every　moment　to
fall；　she　began　to　work　her　way　as　if　making　a　wide　detour　round
the　horsemass。　The　horses　stirred　their　flanks　in　a　knot
against　her。　She　trembled　forward　as　if　in　a　trance。

Then　suddenly；　in　a　flame　of　agony；　she　darted；　seized　the
rugged　knots　of　the　oak　tree　and　began　to　climb。　Her　body　was
weak　but　her　hands　were　as　hard　as　steel。　She　knew　she　was
strong。　She　struggled　in　a　great　effort　till　she　hung　on　the
bough。　She　knew　the　horses　were　aware。　She　gained　her　foothold
on　the　bough。　The　horses　were　loosening　their　knot；　stirring；
trying　to　realize。　She　was　working　her　way　round　to　the　other
side　of　the　tree。　As　they　started　to　canter　towards　her；　she
fell　in　a　heap　on　the　other　side　of　the　hedge。

For　some　moments　she　could　not　move。　Then　she　saw　through　the
rabbitcleared　bottom　of　the　hedge　the　great；　working　hoofs　of
the　horses　as　they　cantered　near。　She　could　not　bear　it。　She
rose　and　walked　swiftly；　diagonally　across　the　field。　The　horses
galloped　along　the　other　side　of　the　hedge　to　the　corner；　where
they　were　held　up。　She　could　feel　them　there　in　their　huddled
group　all　the　while　she　hastened　across　the　bare　field。　They
were　almost　pathetic；　now。　Her　will　alone　carried　her；　till；
trembling；　she　climbed　the　fence　under　a　leaning　thorn　tree　that
overhung　the　grass　by　the　highroad。　The　use　went　from　her；　she
sat　on　the　fence　leaning　back　against　the　trunk　of　the　thorn
tree；　motionless。

As　she　sat　there；　spent；　time　and　the　flux　of　change　passed
away　from　her；　she　lay　as　if　unconscious　upon　the　bed　of　the
stream；　like　a　stone；　unconscious；　unchanging；　unchangeable；
whilst　everything　rolled　by　in　transience；　leaving　her　there；　a
stone　at　rest　on　the　bed　of　the　stream；　inalterable　and　passive；
sunk　to　the　bottom　of　all　change。

She　lay　still　a　long　time；　with　her　back　against　the　thorn
tree　trunk；　in　her　final　isolation。　Some　colliers　passed；
tramping　heavily　up　the　wet　road；　their　voices　sounding　out；
their　shoulders　up　to　their　ears；　their　figures　blotched　and
spectral　in　the　rain。　Some　did　not　see　her。　She　opened　her　eyes
languidly　as　they　passed　by。　Then　one　man　going　alone　saw　her。
The　whites　of　his　eyes　showed　in　his　black　face　as　he　looked　in
wonderment　at　her。　He　hesitated　in　his　walk；　as　if　to　speak　to
her；　out　of　frightened　concern　for　her。　How　she　dreaded　his
speaking　to　her；　dreaded　his　questioning　her。

She　slipped　from　her　seat　and　went　vaguely　along　the
pathvaguely。　It　was　a　long　way　home。　She　had　an　idea　that
she　must　walk　for　the　rest　of　her　life；　wearily；　wearily。　Step
after　st