他们在林边碰上了利博，一个四十岁的男人，身材消瘦，皮肤黝黑，他是斯特雷利磨坊的佃户，他把磨坊改成了养牛场。利博似乎很累，手里漫不经心地牵着那头健壮的种马的缰绳。这三个人停站到一旁，让他从第一条小溪的踏脚石上过去。保罗看着这一匹浑身似乎有使不完的劲的雄马，竟然踏着如此轻快的步伐，不禁赞赏不已。利博在 他们面前勒住了马。
“回去告诉你爸爸，雷渥斯小姐，”他说，嗓门尖得出奇，“他的小牲口一连三天拱坏了底下的那排栅栏。”
“哪一排？”米丽亚姆怯生生地问。
那匹壮马呼呼地喘着粗气，掉转过它那枣红色的身子，微低着头，披散着鬃毛，疑惑地瞪着两只神气的大眼睛。
“跟我来，”利博回答，“我指给你看。”
这个男人牵着马往前走去。那匹公马摇摇摆摆地在一旁跟着，当它发现自己踩进了小溪，就惊慌地抖动着毛。
“不许耍花招！”男人亲热地对马说道。
那匹马迈着小步跃上了溪岸，然后，又轻巧地哗啦哗啦溅着水渡过了第二条小溪。克莱拉绷着脸，随意地走着。她用一种好奇而鄙视的目光看着那匹马。利博停住了，指着几棵柳树下的栅栏。
“那儿，你看那就是牲口钻洞的地方，”他说，“我的伙计已经把它们赶过三四次了。”
“哦，是这样。”米丽亚姆回答时脸也红了，好象这是她的过错一样。
“你们要进来吗？”男人问道。
“不了，谢谢。我们只想从池塘边绕过去。”
“好的，请便吧。”他说。
快到家里，马高兴地嘶叫起来。
“到家了它很高兴。”克莱拉说道，她对这匹马挺感兴趣。
“是啊，它今天一路很高兴。”
他们在走过大门口，看见大农舍里有位大约三十五岁左右的女人迎面走来。她身材娇小，皮肤黝黑，神情看来很容易激动，头发略有些灰白，黑眼睛看起来十分任性。她倒背着双手走了过来，她哥哥爬了上去，马一看到她，又开始嘶鸣起来，她激动地走上前去。
“你又回家了，好小子！”她温柔地冲着马说，而不是对着那个男人。那匹雄壮的大马低下头来，掉转身子挨着她。她把藏在背后手里的皱皮苹果偷偷地塞进了马嘴，然后在马的眼睛边上亲了一下。那匹马高兴地喘了一口粗气，她双臂搂着马头，贴在胸口。
“这马真棒！”米丽亚姆对妇人说。
利博小姐抬起头来，一双黑眼睛直直地扫向保罗。
“哦，晚上好，雷渥斯小姐，”她说，“你有好久没来了。”
米丽亚姆介绍了一下她的朋友。
“你的马可真不错！”克莱拉说。
“是吗？”她又亲亲马，“就和男人一样可爱。”
“我倒认为比大多数男人都可爱！”克莱拉答道。
“是匹不错的马！”那女人大声说着，又搂了搂马。
克莱拉被这匹马迷住了，不由得走上去抚摸马脖子。
“这马很温驯，”利博小姐说，“你见过这么大的马还会这么温驯吗？”
“是匹骏马！”克莱拉回答。
她想看着马的眼睛， 想让马也看见她。
“可惜它不会说话。”她 说。
“噢，它会说——简直像会说话。”那女人应道。
接着她哥哥牵着马走进农舍。
“你们进来吗？进来吧，先生——我没记住您的姓。”
“莫瑞尔。”米丽亚姆说。“不了，我们不进去了，不过，我们想从磨坊边的池塘绕过去。”
“行——行，可以。你钓鱼吧，莫瑞尔先生？”
“不。”保罗说。
“如果你想钓鱼，可以随时来。”利博小姐说，“我们一连几个星期都难得见到一个人影，看到人，我就谢天谢地。”
“池塘里有什么鱼啊？”他问。
他们穿过前面的园子，翻过水闸，走上陡峭的堤岸来到池塘边。整个池塘被绿荫笼罩着。中间有两个长满树木的小岛。保罗和利博小姐一起走着。
“我倒很想在这儿游泳。”他说。
“可以啊。”她回答说，“我哥哥会非常高兴地和你聊天。他非常寂寞，因为这儿没人可以跟他聊聊，来游泳吧。”
克莱拉走近池塘。
“这里水很深。”她 说，“而且水也很清。”
“是的，”利博小姐说。
“你游泳吗？”保罗说，“利博小姐说我们什么时候想来就可以来。”
“当然，我们这儿还有牧场的雇工。”利博小姐说。
他们谈了一会，便继续朝荒山上爬，把这个双眼憔悴暗淡、神情孤独的女人独自留在堤岸上。
阳光洒满山坡，遍地都是野草，野兔在此出没。三个人一言不发地走着。是后保罗说：
“她让我感觉很不舒服。”
“你是说利博小姐？”米丽亚姆问道，“是这样的。”
“她怎么了？是不是太孤独而变得有些疯癫？”
“是的，”米丽亚姆说，“她不应该过这种生活，我觉得把她埋没在这儿真是残酷，我真应该多去看看她。可是——她让我感到心神不安。”
“她让我替她难过——是的，她真叫我厌烦。”他说。
“我想，”克莱拉突然说，“她需要一个男人。”
其他两人沉默了片刻。
“孤独把她弄得疯疯癫癫。”保罗说道。
克莱拉没有回答，而是大步上了山。她垂着头走在枯枝败叶中，两腿一摆一摆的，甩着两只胳膊。她那苗条的身体与其说是在走路，不如说是跌跌撞撞地爬。一股热流涌过保罗全身。他对克莱拉非常好奇，也许生活对她很残酷。他忘了正走在他身边跟他说话的米丽亚姆。米丽亚姆发现他没有回答她的话，便看了他一眼，发现他的眼睛正盯在前面的克莱拉身上。
“你还以为她不太随和吗？”她问。
他没有觉得这个问题的突然，因为他心里也正想着这个问题。
“她可能心里 有什么事吧？”他说。
“是的。”米丽亚姆答道。
他们在山顶上发现了一片隐蔽的荒地，两边都有树木挡着，另外两边是山植树和接骨木，稀稀拉拉地形成了两排村篱。这些灌木丛中有几个豁口，要是眼前有牲口的话，就可以闯进去。这儿的草地就象平绒那么光滑，上面有野兔的足迹和洞穴。不过，整个这一大片荒地却粗糙不平，到处是从来没人割过的高大的野樱草。粗粗的苇草丛中到处都开着旺盛的野花，就像一片锚地停满了桅杆高耸、玲珑可爱的船。
“啊！”米丽亚姆叫道，她看着保罗，黑眼睛睁得很大。他微笑着。他们一起观赏着荒地上的野花。几步之外的克莱拉正闷闷不乐地看着野樱草，保罗和米丽亚姆靠得很近，低声 说着话。他单膝着地，手忙脚乱地一簇一簇地采着美丽的花朵，嘴里一直在轻声慢语地说着什么。米丽亚姆则慢慢地充满柔情地摘着花儿。她觉得他干什么都象经过严格训练似的，非常快。不过，他采的花束倒是比她的更具有天然美。他喜爱这些花，仿佛这些花属于他的，他也有这个权利。她则对花充满敬意，因为它门具有她所没有的东西。
花儿十分新鲜而芬芳。他很想畅饮花计。他采的时候，就 把嫩黄的小花蕊吃掉了。克莱拉仍然闷闷不乐地来回走动着。他向她走去，说，
“你为什么不采些花？”
“我不喜欢这样，花儿还是长着好看。”
“你真的不要几朵吗？”
“花儿宁愿长在那儿。”
“我不信。”
“我可不 想要一些花儿的尸体。”她 说。
“这种想法有些太古板做作了。”他说，“花在水里决不会比在土里死得快。再说，养在花盆里很好看——看上去生趣盎然。你只是因为花断了根就叫死尸。”
“那么这到底是不是死尸？”她分辨道。
“对我来说，不是。采下的花不是花的死尸。”
克莱拉不再答理他了。
“就算是这样—一你又有什么权利把它们采下来呢？”她问道。
“因为 我喜欢花，我也想要花——况且这儿花多的是。”
“这就够了吗？”
“够了。为什么不够？我相信如果这些花插在诺丁汉姆你的房间里一定很好闻。”
“那我就有幸亲眼看着这些花死掉了。”
“不过——即使花真死了，也没什么。”
于是，他撇下她，俯在枝叶茂盛的花丛间，花丛就象苍白发亮的泡沫堆，到处都是。米丽亚姆走了过来，克莱拉正跪在那儿，闻着野樱草的幽香。
“我想，”米丽亚姆说，“只要你敬重这些花，就不算伤害花。重要的是你采花时的心情。”
“这话可以说是也可以说不是。”他说：“你采花就是因为你想要花。就是这么回事。”他把那束花举了举。
米丽亚姆默默地无语。他又采了一些花。
“看这些！”他接着说，“又粗又壮，像小树一样，也像腿胖乎乎的小孩。”
克莱拉的帽子搁在不远处的草地上。她仍旧跪在那里，俯身闻着花香。看到她的脖子，保罗感到一阵悸动，她是如此的美，而且没有一点自我欣赏的样子。她的 乳房在罩衫下轻轻地晃动着，背部弯成拱形曲线，显得优美而健壮。她没穿紧身胸衣，突然，他竟下意识地把一把野樱花撒在她头发和脖颈上，说：
“人本尘身，终归尘土，
上帝不收，魔鬼必留。”
冰冰的花儿落在她脖子上，她抬起头来看着他，可怜地睁着那双惊恐的灰眼睛，不知道他在干什么。花儿落在她脸上，她闭上了眼睛。
他原本高高地站在她身边，突然间他感到有些尴尬。
“我以为你想来一场葬礼呢。”他极不自然地说。
克莱拉奇怪地笑了起来，站起身，把野樱草从头发上拂掉。她拿起帽子扣在头上，还有一朵花仍缠在头发上。保罗看到了，不过没有告诉她。 他俯身收起她身上拂落的。
树林边，一片蓝铃花像发洪水似的，蔓延进田野，不过现在都已经凋谢了。克莱拉信步走去，他在后面漫不经心地跟着。这片蓝铃花真叫他喜欢。
“看这片蓝铃花，从树林里一直开到外边！”他说。
她听了之后，转过身来，脸上闪过一丝热情和感激。
“是的。”她笑了起来。
他顿时觉得热血沸腾。
“这让我想起林中的野人，他们最初赤身裸体的面对这片旷野时，不知被吓成了什么样子！”
“你觉得他们害怕吗？”她问。
“我不知道哪一个古老的部落更感到害怕？是那些从黑暗的树林深处冲到阳光灿烂荒野上的部落，还是那些悄悄地从开阔天地摸进森林里的野人？”
“我想是第二者。”她回答。
“是的，你一定觉得自己很像开阔荒野的那种人，竭力强迫自己走进黑暗世界，是不是？”
“ 我怎么会知道呢？”她神情古怪地问。
这次谈话就此为止了。
大地笼罩着暮色。山谷已是一片阴影。只 有一小块亮光照在对面克罗斯利河滨的农场上。亮光在山巅移动。米丽亚姆慢慢地走上前来，脸俯在那一大把散乱的鲜花中，踏过齐脚腕的野樱草丛。她身后的树木已经隐隐绰绰。
“我们走吗？”她问。
三人都转过身，默默地踏上归程。沿着小路往下走时，他们看见对面农舍里灯火点点。天际远处，山脊上的煤矿居民区，只有一抹淡淡的模糊的轮廓，微光明灭可见。
“今天玩得真开心，是不是？”他问。
米丽亚姆喃喃地表示同意，但克莱拉没有吭声。
“你不觉得吗？”他又追问道。
但克莱拉昂首走着，仍然没有答理。从她的举动上，他可以看出，她表面上满不在乎的样子，实际上心里很难受。
在这一段时间里，保罗带着母亲去了林肯城。她 和往常一样兴高采烈，不过，当保罗与她面对面坐在火车上时，她显出疲惫憔悴的神色。有一刻他甚至感觉到她要从他身边溜走，而他想要抓住她，牢牢地抓住，几乎想用链子拴住她，他觉得必须亲自把她牢牢抓住才好。
快 到林肯城区了。两人都坐在窗旁寻找着教堂。
“在那儿，妈妈！”他大声叫道。
他们看见高大的教堂威严地矗立在旷野上。
“哦，”她惊呼道：“教堂原来是这样啊？”
他看着母亲。她那双蓝眼睛默默地看着教堂，似乎又变得高深莫测了。大教堂那永恒的宁静中似乎有什么东西，什么命中注定的东西折射到她的身上。教堂高耸入云，显得庄严而肃穆。反正，命该如此，就是如此。即使他的旺盛青春也奈何不了命运。他注视着她那红润的面颊，长着绒毛，眼角出现了鱼尾纹，眼眨也不眨，眼皮略有点松弛，嘴巴总是带着绝望的神情，脸上也是同样的那种永恒的神情，仿佛她已经看透了命运。他用尽心力叩着她的心扉。
“看，妈妈，这座教堂高高屹立在城市之上，多么雄伟啊！想想多少条街道都在它下面，她看上去比整个城市还要大。”
"Tell your father, Miss Leivers," he said, in a peculiarpiping voice, "that his young beas'es 'as broke that bottom fencethree days an' runnin'."
"Which?" asked Miriam, tremulous.
The great horse breathed heavily, shifting round its red flanks,and looking suspiciously with its wonderful big eyes upwards fromunder its lowered head and falling mane.
"Come along a bit," replied Limb, "an' I'll show you."
The man and the stallion went forward. It danced sideways,shaking its white fetlocks and looking frightened, as it felt itselfin the brook.
"No hanky-pankyin'," said the man affectionately to the beast.
It went up the bank in little leaps, then splashed finely throughthe second brook. Clara, walking with a kind of sulky abandon,watched it half-fascinated, half-contemptuous. Limb stoppedand pointed to the fence under some willows.
"There, you see where they got through," he said. "My man'sdruv 'em back three times."
"Yes," answered Miriam, colouring as if she were at fault.
"Are you comin' in?" asked the man.
"No, thanks; but we should like to go by the pond."
"Well, just as you've a mind," he said.
The horse gave little whinneys of pleasure at being so near home.
"He is glad to be back," said Clara, who was interestedin the creature.
"Yes--'e's been a tidy step to-day."
They went through the gate, and saw approaching them fromthe big farmhouse a smallish, dark, excitable-looking womanof about thirty-five. Her hair was touched with grey, her darkeyes looked wild. She walked with her hands behind her back. Her brother went forward. As it saw her, the big bay stallionwhinneyed again. She came up excitedly.
"Are you home again, my boy!" she said tenderly to the horse,not to the man. The great beast shifted round to her, ducking his head. She smuggled into his mouth the wrinkled yellow apple she hadbeen hiding behind her back, then she kissed him near the eyes. He gave a big sigh of pleasure. She held his head in her armsagainst her breast.
"Isn't he splendid!" said Miriam to her.
Miss Limb looked up. Her dark eyes glanced straight at Paul.
"Oh, good-evening, Miss Leivers," she said. "It's agessince you've been down."
Miriam introduced her friends.
"Your horse IS a fine fellow!" said Clara.
"Isn't he!" Again she kissed him. "As loving as any man!"
"More loving than most men, I should think," replied Clara.
"He's a nice boy!" cried the woman, again embracing the horse.
Clara, fascinated by the big beast, went up to stroke his neck.
"He's quite gentle," said Miss Limb. "Don't you think bigfellows are?"
"He's a beauty!" replied Clara.
She wanted to look in his eyes. She wanted him to look at her.
"It's a pity he can't talk," she said.
"Oh, but he can--all but," replied the other woman.
Then her brother moved on with the horse.
"Are you coming in? DO come in, Mr.--I didn't catch it."
"Morel," said Miriam. "No, we won't come in, but we shouldlike to go by the mill-pond."
"Yes--yes, do. Do you fish, Mr. Morel?"
"No," said Paul.
"Because if you do you might come and fish any time,"said Miss Limb. "We scarcely see a soul from week's end to week's end. I should be thankful."
"What fish are there in the pond?" he asked.
They went through the front garden, over the sluice,and up the steep bank to the pond, which lay in shadow, with itstwo wooded islets. Paul walked with Miss Limb.
"I shouldn't mind swimming here," he said.
"Do," she replied. "Come when you like. My brother will beawfully pleased to talk with you. He is so quiet, because thereis no one to talk to. Do come and swim."
Clara came up.
"It's a fine depth," she said, "and so clear."
"Yes," said Miss Limb.
"Do you swim?" said Paul. "Miss Limb was just saying we couldcome when we liked."
"Of course there's the farm-hands," said Miss Limb.
They talked a few moments, then went on up the wild hill,leaving the lonely, haggard-eyed woman on the bank.
The hillside was all ripe with sunshine. It was wild and tussocky,given over to rabbits. The three walked in silence. Then:
"She makes me feel uncomfortable," said Paul.
"You mean Miss Limb?" asked Miriam. "Yes."
"What's a matter with her? Is she going dotty with beingtoo lonely?"
"Yes," said Miriam. "It's not the right sort of life for her. I think it's cruel to bury her there. I really ought to go and seeher more. But--she upsets me."
"She makes me feel sorry for her--yes, and she bothers me,"he said.
"I suppose," blurted Clara suddenly, "she wants a man."
The other two were silent for a few moments.
"But it's the loneliness sends her cracked," said Paul.
Clara did not answer, but strode on uphill. She was walkingwith her hand hanging, her legs swinging as she kicked throughthe dead thistles and the tussocky grass, her arms hanging loose. Rather than walking, her handsome body seemed to be blundering upthe hill. A hot wave went over Paul. He was curious about her. Perhaps life had been cruel to her. He forgot Miriam, who was walkingbeside him talking to him. She glanced at him, finding he did notanswer her. His eyes were fixed ahead on Clara.
"Do you still think she is disagreeable?" she asked.
He did not notice that the question was sudden. It ranwith his thoughts.
"Something's the matter with her," he said.
"Yes," answered Miriam.
They found at the top of the hill a hidden wild field,two sides of which were backed by the wood, the other sides by highloose hedges of hawthorn and elder bushes. Between these overgrownbushes were gaps that the cattle might have walked through hadthere been any cattle now. There the turf was smooth as velveteen,padded and holed by the rabbits. The field itself was coarse,and crowded with tall, big cowslips that had never been cut. Clusters of strong flowers rose everywhere above the coarsetussocks of bent. It was like a roadstead crowded with tan,fairy shipping.
"Ah!" cried Miriam, and she looked at Paul, her dark eyes dilating. He smiled. Together they enjoyed the field of flowers. Clara,a little way off, was looking at the cowslips disconsolately. Paul and Miriam stayed close together, talking in subdued tones. He kneeled on one knee, quickly gathering the best blossoms,moving from tuft to tuft restlessly, talking softly all the time. Miriam plucked the flowers lovingly, lingering over them. He always seemed to her too quick and almost scientific.Yet his bunches had a natural beauty more than hers.He loved them, but as if they were his and he had a rightto them. She had more reverence for them: they held something she had not.
The flowers were very fresh and sweet. He wanted to drink them. As he gathered them, he ate the little yellow trumpets. Clara was still wandering about disconsolately. Going towards her,he said:
"Why don't you get some?"
"I don't believe in it. They look better growing."
"But you'd like some?"
"They want to be left."
"I don't believe they do."
"I don't want the corpses of flowers about me," she said.
"That's a stiff, artificial notion," he said. "They don't dieany quicker in water than on their roots. And besides, they LOOKnice in a bowl--they look jolly. And you only call a thing a corpsebecause it looks corpse-like."
"Whether it is one or not?" she argued.
"It isn't one to me. A dead flower isn't a corpse of a flower."
Clara now ignored him.
"And even so--what right have you to pull them?" she asked.
"Because I like them, and want them--and there's plenty of them."
"And that is sufficient?"
"Yes. Why not? I'm sure they'd smell nice in your roomin Nottingham."
"And I should have the pleasure of watching them die."
"But then--it does not matter if they do die."
Whereupon he left her, and went stooping over the clumpsof tangled flowers which thickly sprinkled the field like pale,luminous foam-clots. Miriam had come close. Clara was kneeling,breathing some scent from the cowslips.
"I think," said Miriam, "if you treat them with reverence youdon't do them any harm. It is the spirit you pluck them in that matters."
"Yes," he said. "But no, you get 'em because you want 'em,and that's all." He held out his bunch.
Miriam was silent. He picked some more.
"Look at these!" he continued; "sturdy and lusty like littletrees and like boys with fat legs."
Clara's hat lay on the grass not far off. She was kneeling,bending forward still to smell the flowers. Her neck gave hima sharp pang, such a beautiful thing, yet not proud of itselfjust now. Her breasts swung slightly in her blouse. The archingcurve of her back was beautiful and strong; she wore no stays. Suddenly, without knowing, he was scattering a handful of cowslipsover her hair and neck, saying:
"Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, If the Lord won't have you the devil must."
The chill flowers fell on her neck. She looked up at him,with almost pitiful, scared grey eyes, wondering what he was doing. Flowers fell on her face, and she shut her eyes.
Suddenly, standing there above her, he felt awkward.
"I thought you wanted a funeral," he said, ill at ease.
Clara laughed strangely, and rose, picking the cowslips fromher hair. She took up her hat and pinned it on. One flower hadremained tangled in her hair. He saw, but would not tell her. He gathered up the flowers he had sprinkled over her.
At the edge of the wood the bluebells had flowed over into thefield and stood there like flood-water. But they were fading now. Clara strayed up to them. He wandered after her. The bluebellspleased him.
"Look how they've come out of the wood!" he said.
Then she turned with a flash of warmth and of gratitude.
"Yes," she smiled.
His blood beat up.
"It makes me think of the wild men of the woods, how terrifiedthey would be when they got breast to breast with the open space."
"Do you think they were?" she asked.
"I wonder which was more frightened among old tribes--thosebursting out of their darkness of woods upon all the space of light,or those from the open tiptoeing into the forests."
"I should think the second," she answered.
"Yes, you DO feel like one of the open space sort, trying toforce yourself into the dark, don't you?"
"How should I know?" she answered queerly.
The conversation ended there.
The evening was deepening over the earth. Already the valley wasfull of shadow. One tiny square of light stood opposite at CrossleighBank Farm. Brightness was swimming on the tops of the hills. Miriam came up slowly, her face in her big, loose bunch of flowers,walking ankle-deep through the scattered froth of the cowslips. Beyond her the trees were coming into shape, all shadow.
"Shall we go?" she asked.
And the three turned away. They were all silent. Going down the path they could see the light of home right across,and on the ridge of the hill a thin dark outline with little lights,where the colliery village touched the sky.
"It has been nice, hasn't it?" he asked.
Miriam murmured assent. Clara was silent.
"Don't you think so?" he persisted.
But she walked with her head up, and still did not answer. He could tell by the way she moved, as if she didn't care,that she suffered.
At this time Paul took his mother to Lincoln. She was brightand enthusiastic as ever, but as he sat opposite her in therailway carriage, she seemed to look frail. He had a momentarysensation as if she were slipping away from him. Then hewanted to get hold of her, to fasten her, almost to chain her. He felt he must keep hold of her with his hand.
They drew near to the city. Both were at the window lookingfor the cathedral.
"There she is, mother!" he cried.
They saw the great cathedral lying couchant above the plain.
"Ah!" she exclaimed. "So she is!"
He looked at his mother. Her blue eyes were watching thecathedral quietly. She seemed again to be beyond him. Something inthe eternal repose of the uplifted cathedral, blue and nobleagainst the sky, was reflected in her, something of the fatality. What was, WAS. With all his young will he could not alter it. He saw her face, the skin still fresh and pink and downy,but crow's-feet near her eyes, her eyelids steady, sinking a little,her mouth always closed with disillusion; and there was on her the sameeternal look, as if she knew fate at last. He beat against itwith all the strength of his soul.
"Look, mother, how big she is above the town! Think, there are streetsand streets below her! She looks bigger than the city altogether."
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