cw.imarriedadeadman-第8章

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　〃MRS。　PATRICE　HAZZARD〃
　
　〃Open　it；〃　the　nurse　encouraged　her。　〃Don't　just　look　at　it　like　that。　It　won't　bite　you。〃
　She　tried　to　twice；　and　twice　it　fell。　The　third　time　she　managed　to　rip　one　seam　along　its　entire　length。
　
　〃Patrice；　dear：
　〃Though　we've　never　seen　you；　you're　our　daughter　now；　dear。　You're　Hugh's　legacy　to　us。　You're　all　we　have　now；　you　and　the　little　fellow。　I　can't　e　to　you；　where　you　are；　doctor's　orders。　The　shock　was　too　much　for　me　and　he　forbids　my　making　the　trip。　You'll　have　to　e　to　us；　instead。　e　soon；　dear。　e　home　to　us；　in　our　loneliness　and　loss。　It　will　make　it　that　much　easier　to　bear。　It　won't　be　long　now；　dear。　We've　been　in　constant　touch　with　Dr。　Brett；　and　he　sends　very　encouraging　reports　of　your　progress…〃
　
　The　rest　didn't　matter　so　much；　she　let　it　fade　from　her　attention。
　It　was　like　train…wheels　going　through　her　head。
　Though　we've　never　seen　you。
　Though　we've　never　seen　you。
　Though　we've　never　seen　you。
　The　nurse　eased　it　from　her　forgetful　fingers　after　awhile；　and　put　it　back　in　its　envelope。　She　watched　the　nurse　fearfully　as　she　moved　about　the　room。
　〃If　I　weren't　Mrs。　Hazzard；　would　I　be　allowed　to　stay　in　this　room？〃
　The　nurse　laughed　cheerfully。　〃We'd　put　you　out；　we'd　throw　you　right　outside　into　one　of　the　wards；〃　she　said；　bending　close　toward　her　in　mock　threat。
　The　nurse　said；　〃Here；　take　your　young　son。〃
　She　held　him　tightly；　in　fierce；　almost　convulsive　protectiveness。
　Seventeen　cents。　Seventeen　cents　last　such　a　short　time；　goes　such　a　short　way。
　The　nurse　felt　in　good　humor。　She　tried　to　prolong　their　little　joke　of　a　moment　ago。　〃Why？　Are　you　trying　to　tell　me　you're　not　Mrs。　Hazzard？〃　she　asked　banteringly。
　She　held　him　fiercely；　protectively　close。
　Seventeen　cents；　seventeen　cents。
　〃No；〃　she　said　in　a　smothered　voice；　burying　her　face　against　him；　〃I'm　not　trying　to　tell　you　that。　I'm　not　trying。〃
　
　
　12
　
　She　was　in　a　dressing…robe；　sitting　by　the　window　in　the　sun。　It　was　quilted　blue　silk。　She　wore　it　every　day　when　she　got　up　out　of　bed。　On　the　breast…pocket　it　had　a　monogram　embroidered　in　white　silk；　the　letters　〃P　H〃　intertwined。　There　were　slippers　to　match。
　She　was　reading　a　book。　On　the　flyleaf；　though　she　was　long　past　it；　it　was　inscribed　〃To　Patrice；　with　love　from　Mother　H。〃　There　was　a　row　of　other　books　on　the　stand　beside　the　bed。　Ten　or　twelve　of　them；　books　with　vivacious　jackets；　turquoise；　magenta；　vermilion；　cobalt；　and　with　vivacious；　lighthearted　contents　to　match。　Not　a　shadow　between　their　covers。
　There　was　a　scattering　of　orange　peel；　and　two　or　three　seeds；　in　a　dish　on　a　low　stand　beside　her　easy　chair。　There　was　a　cigarette　burning　in　another；　smaller　dish　beside　that　one。　It　was　custommade；　it　had　a　straw　tip；　and　the　initials　〃P　H〃　on　it　had　not　yet　been　consumed。
　The　sunlight；　falling　from　behind　and　over　her；　made　her　hair　seem　hazily　translucent；　made　it　almost　seem　like　golden　foam　about　her　head。　It　skipped　the　front　of　her；　from　there　on　down；　due　to　the　turn　of　the　chair…back；　and　struck　again　in　a　little　golden　pool　across　one　outthrust　bare　instep；　lying　on　it　like　a　warm；　luminous　kiss。
　There　was　a　light　tap　at　the　door　and　the　doctor　came　in。
　He　drew　out　a　chair　and　sat　down　facing　her；　leaving　its　straight　back　in　front　of　him　as　an　added　note　of　genial　informality。
　〃I　hear　you're　leaving　us　soon。〃
　The　book　fell　and　he　had　to　pick　it　up　for　her。　He　offered　it　back　to　her；　but　when　she　seemed　incapable　of　taking　it；　he　put　it　aside　on　the　stand。
　〃Don't　look　so　frightened。　Everything's　arranged…〃
　She　had　a　little　difficulty　with　her　breathing。　〃Where…？　Where　to？〃
　〃Why；　home；　of　course。〃
　She　put　her　hand　to　her　hair　and　flattened　it　a　little；　but　then　it　sprang　up　again；　gaseous　as　before；　in　the　sun。
　〃Here　are　your　tickets。〃　He　took　an　envelope　out　of　his　pocket；　tried　to　offer　it　to　her。　Her　hands　withdrew　a　little；　each　one　around　a　side　of　the　chair　toward　the　back。　He　put　the　envelope　between　the　pages　of　the　discarded　book　finally；　leaving　it　outthrust　like　a　place…mark。
　Her　eyes　were　very　large。　Larger　than　they　had　seemed　before　he　came　into　the　room。　〃When？〃　she　said　with　scarcely　any　breath　at　all。
　〃Wednesday；　the　early　afternoon　train。〃
　Suddenly　panic　was　licking　all　over　her；　like　a　shriveling；　congealing；　frigid　flame。
　〃No；　I　can't！　No！　Doctor；　you've　got　to　listen…！〃　She　tried　to　grab　his　hand　with　both　of　hers　and　hold　onto　it。
　He　spoke　to　her　playfully；　as　if　she　were　a　child。　〃Now；　now；　here。　What's　all　this？　What　is　all　this？〃
　〃No；　doctor；　no…！〃　She　shook　her　head　insistently。
　He　sandwiched　her　hand　between　both　of　his；　and　held　it　that　way；　consolingly。　〃I　understand；〃　he　said　soothingly。　〃We're　a　little　shaky　yet；　we've　just　finished　getting　used　to　things　as　they　are…　We're　a　little　timid　about　giving　up　familiar　surroundings　for　those　that　are　strange　to　us。　We　all　have　it；　it's　a　typical　nervous　reaction。　Why；　you'll　be　over　it　in　no　time。〃
　〃But　I　can't　do　it；　doctor；〃　she　whispered　passionately。　〃I　can't　do　it。〃
　He　chucked　her　under　the　chin；　to　instill　courage　in　her。　〃We'll　put　you　on　the　train；　and　all　you　have　to　do　is　ride。　Your　family　will　be　waiting　to　take　you　off　at　the　other　end。〃
　〃My　family。〃
　〃Don't　make　such　a　face　about　it；〃　he　coaxed　whimsically。
　He　glanced　around　at　the　crib。
　〃What　about　the　young　man　here？〃
　He　went　over　to　it；　and　lifted　the　child　out；　brought　him　to　her　and　put　him　in　her　arms。
　〃You　want　to　take　him　home；　don't　you？　You　don't　want　him　to　grow　up　in　a　hospital？〃　He　laughed　at　her　teasingly。　〃You　want　him　to　have　a　home；　don't　you？〃
　She　held　him　to　her；　lowered　her　head　to　him。
　〃Yes；〃　she　said　at　last；　submissively。　〃Yes；　I　want　him　to　have　a　home。〃
　
　
　13
　
　A　train　again。　But　how　different　it　was　now。　No　crowded　aisles；　no　jostling　figures；　no　flux　of　patient；　swaying　humanity。　A　partment；　a　roomette　all　to　herself。　A　little　table　on　braces；　that　could　go　up；　that　could　go　down。　A　closet　with　a　full…length　mirrored　door；　just　as　in　any　ground…fast　little　dwelling。　On　the　rack　the　neat　luggage　in　recessive　tiers；　brand…new；　in　use　now　for　the　first　time；　glossy　patent　finish；　hardware　glistening；　〃P　H〃　trimly　stencilled　in　vermilion　on　the　rounded　corners。　A　little　shaded　lamp　to　read　by　when　the　countryside　grew　dark。　Flowers　in　a　holder；　going…away　flowers…no；　ing…homeward　flowers…presented　by　proxy　at　the　point　of　departure；　glazed　fruit…candies　in　a　box；　a　magazine　or　two。
　And　outside　the　two　wide　windows；　that　formed　almost　a　single　panel　from　wall　to　wall；　trees　sailing　peacefully　by；　off　a　way　in　a　single　line；　dappled　with　sunshine；　dark　green　on　one　side；　light　apple…green　on　the　other。　Clouds　sailing　peacefully　by；　only　a　little　more　slowly　than　the　trees；　as　if　the　two　things　worked　on　separate；　yet　almost…synchronized；　belts　of　continuous　motion。　Meadows　and　fields；　and　the　little　ripples　that　hillocks　made　off　in　the　distance　every　once　in　awhile。　Going　up　a　little；　ing　down　again。　The　wavy　line　of　the　future。
　And　on　the　seat　opposite　her　own；　and　more　important　by　far　than　all　this；　snug　in　a　little　blue　blanket；　small　face　still；　small　eyes　closed…something　to　cherish；　something　to　love。　All　there　was　in　the　world　to　love。　All　there　was　to　go　on　for；　along　that　wavy　line　outside。
　Yes；　how　different　it　was　now。　And…how　infinitely　preferable　the　first　time　had　been　to　this　one。　Fear　rode　with　her　now。
　There　hadn't　been　fear　then。　There　hadn't　been　a　seat；　there　hadn't　been　a　bite　to　eat；　there　had　only　been　seventeen　cents。　And　just　ahead；　unguessed；　rushing　ever　nearer　with　the　miles；　there　had　been　calamity；　horror；　the　beating　of　the　wings　of　death。
　But　there　hadn't　been　fear。　There　hadn't　been　this　gnawing　inside。　There　hadn't　been　this　strain　and　counterstrain；　this　pulling　one　way　and　pulling　the　other。　There　had　been　the　calm；　the　certainty；　of　going　along　the　right　way；　the　only　way　there　was　to　go。
　The　wheels　chattered；　as　they　always　chatter；　on　every　train　that　has　ever　run。　But　saying　now；　to　her　ear　alone：
　
　〃You'd　better　go　back；　you'd　better　go　back；
　Clicketty…clack；　clicketty…clack；
　Stop　while　you　can；　you　still　can　go　back。〃
　
　
　A　very　small　part　of　her　moved；　the　least　part　of　her　moved。　Her　thumb　unbracketed；　and　her　four　fingers　opened　slowly；　and　the　tight　white　knot　they'd　made　for　hours　past　dissolved。　There　in　its　center；　exposed　now…
　An　Indian…head　penny。
　A　Lincoln…head　penny。
　A　buffalo　nickel。
　A　Liberty…head　dime。
　Seventeen　cents。　She　even　knew　the　dates　on　them　by　heart；　by　now。
　
　〃Clicketty…clack；
　Stop　and　go　back；
　You　still　have　the　time；
　Turn　and　go　back。〃
　
　Slowly　the　fingers　folded　up　and　over　again；　the　thumb　crossed　over　and　locked　them　in　place。
　Then　she　took　the　whole　fist　and　struck　it　distractedly　against　her　forehead　and　held　it　there　for　a　moment　where　it　had　struck。
　She　stood　up　suddenly；　and　tugged　at　one　of　the　pieces　of　luggage；　and　swivelled　it　around；　so　that　its　outermost　corner　was　now　inward。　The　〃P　H〃　disappeared。　Then　she　did　it　to　the　piece　below。　The　second　〃P　H〃　disappeared。
　The　fear　wouldn't　disappear。　It　wasn't　just　stencilled　on　a　corner　of　her；　it　was　all　over　her。
　There　was　a　light　knock　outside　the　door；　and　she　started　as　violently　as　though　it　had　been　a　resounding　crash。
　〃Who's　there？〃　she　gasped。
　A　porter's　voice　answered；　〃Five　mo'　minutes　fo'　Caulfield。〃
　She　reared　from　the　seat；　and　ran　to　the　door；　flung　it　open。　He　was　already　going　down　the　passage。　〃No；　wait！　It　can't　be…〃
　〃It　sho'　enough　is；　though；　ma'm。〃
　〃So　quickly；　though。　I　didn't　think…〃
　He　smiled　back　at　her　indulgently。　〃It　always　es　between　Clarendon　and　Hastings。　That's　the　right　place　fo'　it。　And　we've　had　Clarendon　already；　and　Hastings's　in'　right　after　it。　Ain't　never　change　since　I　been　on　this　railroad。〃
　She　closed　the　door；　and　swung　around；　and　leaned　her　whole　back　against　it；　as　if　trying　to　keep　out　some　catastrophic　intrusion。
　
　〃Too　late　to　go　back；
　Too　late　to　go　back…〃
　
　〃I　can　still　ride　straight　through；　I　can　ride　past　without　getting　off；〃　she　thought　She　ran　to　the　windows　and　peered　out　ahead；　at　an　acute　angle；　as　if　the　oning　sight　of　it　in　itself　would　resolve　her　difficulty　in　some　way。
　Nothing　yet。　It　was　ing　on　very　gradually。　A　house；　all　by　itself。　Then　another　house；　still　all　by　itself。　Then　a　third。　They　were　beginning　to　e　thicker　now。
　〃Ride　straight　through；　don't　get　off　at　all。　They　can't　make　you。　Nobody　can。　Do　this　one　last　thing　that's　all　there's　time　for　now。〃
　She　ran　back　to　the　door　and　hurriedly　turned　the　little　fingerlatch　under　the　knob；　locking　it　on　the　inside。
　The　houses　were　ing　in　more　profusion；　but　they　were　ing　slower　too。　They　didn't　sail　any　more；　they　dawdled。　A　schoolbuilding　drifted　by；　you　could　tell　what　it　was　even　from　afar。　Spotless；　modern；　brand…new　looking；　its　concrete　functionalism　gleaming　spic…and…span　in　the　sun；　copiously　glassed。　She　could　even　make　out　small　swings　in　motion；　in　the　playground　beside　it。　She　glanced　aside　at　the　small　blanketed　bundle　on　the　seat　Tha