david elginbrod-第25章

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morning；　Hugh　went　to　find　Harry；　according　to　custom；　in　the
library。　　He　was　reading。

〃What　are　you　reading；　Harry？〃　asked　he。

〃A　poem；〃　said　Harry；　and；　rising　as　before；　he　brought　the　book　to
Hugh。　It　was　Mrs。　Hemans's　Poems。

〃You　are　fond　of　poetry；　Harry。〃

〃Yes；　very。〃

〃Whose　poems　do　you　like　best？〃

〃Mrs。　Hemans's；　of　course。　　Don't　you　think　she　is　the　best；　sir？〃

〃She　writes　very　beautiful　verses；　Harry。　　Which　poem　are　you
reading　now？〃

〃Oh！　one　of　my　favouritesThe　Voice　of　Spring。〃

〃Who　taught　you　to　like　Mrs。　Hemans？〃

〃Euphra；　of　course。〃

〃Will　you　read　the　poem　to　me？〃

Harry　began；　and　read　the　poem　through；　with　much　taste　and　evident
enjoyment；　an　enjoyment　which　seemed；　however；　to　spring　more　from
the　music　of　the　thought　and　its　embodiment　in　sound；　than　from
sympathy　with　the　forms　of　nature　called　up　thereby。　　This　was　shown
by　his　mode　of　reading；　in　which　the　music　was　everything；　and　the
sense　little　or　nothing。　　When　he　came　to　the　line；

　　　　　〃And　the　larch　has　hung　all　his　tassels　forth；〃

he　smiled　so　delightedly；　that　Hugh　said：

〃Are　you　fond　of　the　larch；　Harry？〃

〃Yes；　very。〃

〃Are　there　any　about　here？〃

〃I　don't　know。　　What　is　it　like？〃

〃You　said　you　were　fond　of　it。〃

〃Oh；　yes；　it　is　a　tree　with　beautiful　tassels；　you　know。　　I　think　I
should　like　to　see　one。　　Isn't　it　a　beautiful　line？〃

〃When　you　have　finished　the　poem；　we　will　go　and　see　if　we　can　find
one　anywhere　in　the　woods。　　We　must　know　where　we　are　in　the　world；
Harrywhat　is　all　round　about　us；　you　know。〃

〃Oh；　yes；〃　said　Harry；　〃let　us　go　and　hunt　the　larch。〃

〃Perhaps　we　shall　meet　Spring；　if　we　look　for　herperhaps　hear　her
voice；　too。〃

〃That　would　be　delightful；〃　answered　Harry；　smiling。　　And　away　they
went。

I　may　just　mention　here　that　Mrs。　Hemans　was　allowed　to　retire
gradually；　till　at　last　she　was　to　be　found　only　in　the　more
inaccessible　recesses　of　the　library…shelves；　while　by　that　time
Harry　might　be　heard；　not　all　over　the　house；　certainly；　but　as　far
off　as　outside　the　closed　door　of　the　library；　reading　aloud　to
himself　one　or　other　of　Macaulay's　ballads；　with　an　evident
enjoyment　of　the　go　in　it。　　A　story　with　drum　and　trumpet
accompaniment　was　quite　enough；　for　the　present；　to　satisfy　Harry；
and　Macaulay　could　give　him　that；　if　little　more。

As　they　went　across　the　lawn　towards　the　shrubbery；　on　their　way　to
look　for　larches　and　Spring；　Euphra　joined　them　in　walking　dress。
It　was　a　lovely　morning。

〃I　have　taken　you　at　your　word；　you　see；　Mr。　Sutherland；〃　said　she。
〃I　don't　want　to　lose　my　Harry　quite。〃

〃You　dear　kind　Euphra！〃　said　Harry；　going　round　to　her　side　and
taking　her　hand。　　He　did　not　stay　long　with　her；　however；　nor　did
Euphra　seem　particularly　to　want　him。

〃There　was　one　thing　I　ought　to　have　mentioned　to　you　the　other
night；　Mr。　Sutherland；　and　I　daresay　I　should　have　mentioned　it；　had
not　Mr。　Arnold　interrupted　our　t阾e…？t阾e。　　I　feel　now　as　if　I　had
been　guilty　of　claiming　far　more　than　I　have　a　right　to；　on　the
score　of　musical　insight。　　I　have　Scotch　blood　in　me；　and　was　indeed
born　in　Scotland；　though　I　left　it　before　I　was　a　year　old。　　My
mother；　Mr。　Arnold's　sister；　married　a　gentleman　who　was　half
Sootch；　and　I　was　born　while　they　were　on　a　visit　to　his　relatives；
the　Camerons　of　Lochnie。　　His　mother；　my　grandmother；　was　a　Bohemian
lady；　a　countess　with　sixteen　quarteringsnot　a　gipsy；　I　beg　to
say。〃

Hugh　thought　she　might　have　been；　to　judge　from　present　appearances。

But　how　was　he　to　account　for　this　torrent　of　genealogical
information；　into　which　the　ice　of　her　late　constraint　had　suddenly
thawed？　　It　was　odd　that　she　should　all　at　once　volunteer　so　much
about　herself。　　Perhaps　she　had　made　up　one　of　those　minds　which
need　making　up；　every　now　and　then；　like　a　monthly　magazine；　and　now
was　prepared　to　publish　it。　　Hugh　responded　with　a　question：

〃Do　I　know　your　name；　then；　at　last？　　You　are　Miss　Cameron？〃

〃Euphrasia　Cameron；　at　your　service；　sir。〃　　And　she　dropped　a　gay
little　courtesy　to　Hugh；　looking　up　at　him　with　a　flash　of　her　black
diamonds。

〃Then　you　must　sing　to　me　to…night。〃

〃With　all　the　pleasure　in　gipsy…land；〃　replied　she；　with　a　second
courtesy；　lower　than　the　first；　taking　for　granted；　no　doubt；　his
silent　judgment　on　her　person　and　complexion。

By　this　time　they　had　reached　the　woods　in　a　different　quarter　from
that　which　Hugh　had　gone　through　the　other　day　with　Harry。　　And
here；　in　very　deed；　the　Spring　met　them；　with　a　profusion　of
richness　to　which　Hugh　was　quite　a　stranger。　　The　ground　was
carpeted　with　primroses；　and　anemones；　and　other　spring　flowers；
which　are　the　loveliest　of　all　flowers。　　They　were　drinking　the
sunlight；　which　fell　upon　them　through　the　budded　boughs。　　By　the
time　the　light　should　be　hidden　from　them　by　the　leaves；　which　are
the　clouds　of　the　lower　firmament　of　the　woods；　their　need　of　it
would　be　gone：　exquisites　in　living；　they　cared　only　for　the
delicate　morning　of　the　year。

〃Do　look　at　this　darling；　Mr。　Sutherland！〃　exclaimed　Euphrasia
suddenly；　as　she　bent　at　the　root　of　a　great　beech；　where　grew　a
large　bush　of　rough　leaves；　with　one　tiny　but　perfectly…formed
primrose　peeping　out　between。　〃Is　it　not　a　little　pet？all
eyesall　one　eye　staring　out　of　its　curtained　bed　to　see　what　ever
is　going　on　in　the　world。You　had　better　lie　down　again：　it　is　not
a　nice　place。〃

She　spoke　to　it　as　if　it　had　been　a　kitten　or　a　baby。　　And　as　she
spoke；　she　pulled　the　leaves　yet　closer　over　the　little　starer　so　as
to　hide　it　quite。

As　they　went　on；　she　almost　obtrusively　avoided　stepping　on　the
flowers；　saying　she　almost　felt　cruel；　or　at　least　rude；　when　she
did　so。　　Yet　she　trailed　her　dress　over　them　in　quite　a　careless
way；　not　lifting　it　at　all。　　This　was　a　peculiarity　of　hers；　which
Hugh　never　understood　till　he　understood　herself。

All　about　in　shady　places；　the　ferns　were　busy　untucking　themselves
from　their　grave…clothes；　unrolling　their　mysterious　coils　of　life；
adding　continually　to　the　hidden　growth　as　they　unfolded　the
visible。　　In　this；　they　were　like　the　other　revelations　of　God　the
Infinite。　　All　the　wild　lovely　things　were　coming　up　for　their
month's　life　of　joy。　　Orchis…harlequins；　cuckoo…plants；　wild　arums；
more　properly　lords…and…ladies；　were　coming；　and　comingslowly；　for
had　they　not　a　long　way　to　come；　from　the　valley　of　the　shadow　of
death　into　the　land　of　life？　　At　last　the　wanderers　came　upon　a
whole　company　of　bluebellsnot　what　Hugh　would　have　called
bluebells；　for　the　bluebells　of　Scotland　are　the　single…poised
harebellsbut　wild　hyacinths；　growing　in　a　damp　and　shady　spot；　in
wonderful　luxuriance。　　They　were　quite　three　feet　in　height；　with
long；　graceful；　drooping　heads；　hanging　down　from　them；　all　along
one　side；　the　largest　and　loveliest　of　bellsone　lying　close　above
the　other；　on　the　lower　part；　while　they　parted　thinner　and　thinner
as　they　rose　towards　the　lonely　one　at　the　top。　　Miss　Cameron　went
into　ecstasies　over　these；　not　saying　much；　but　breaking　up　what　she
did　say　with　many　prettily　passionate　pauses。

She　had　a　very　happy　turn　for　seeing　external　resemblances；　either
humorous　or　pathetic；　for　she　had　much　of　one　element　that　goes　to
the　making　of　a　poetnamely；　surface　impressibility。

〃Look；　Harry；　they　are　all　sad　at　having　to　go　down　there　again　so
soon。　　They　are　looking　at　their　graves　so　ruefully。〃

Harry　looked　sad　and　rather　sentimental　immediately。　　When　Hugh
glanced　at　Miss　Cameron；　he　saw　tears　in　her　eyes。

〃You　have　nothing　like　this　in　your　country；　have　you；　Mr。
Sutherland？〃　said　she；　with　an　apparent　effort。

〃No；　indeed；〃　answered　Hugh。

And　he　said　no　more。　　For　a　vision　rose　before　him　of　the　rugged
pine…wood　and　the　single　primrose；　and　of　the　thoughtful　maiden；
with　unpolished　speech　and　rough　hands；　andbut　this　he　did　not
seea　soul　slowly　refining　itself　to　a　crystalline　clearness。　　And
he　thought　of　the　grand　old　grey…haired　David；　and　of　Janet　with　her
quaint　motherhood；　and　of　all　the　blessed　bareness　of　the　ancient
timein　sunlight　and　in　snow；　and　he　felt　again　that　he　had
forgotten　and　forsaken　his　friends。

〃How　the　fairies　will　be　ringing　the　bells　in　these　airy　steeples　in
the　moonlight！〃　said　Miss　Cameron　to　Harry；　who　was　surprised　and
delighted　with　it　all。　　He　could　not　help　wondering；　however；　after
he　went　to　bed　that　night；　that　Euphra　had　never　before　taken　him　to
see　these　beautiful　things；　and　had　never　before　said　anything　half
so　pretty　to　him；　as　the　least　pretty　thing　she　had　said　about　the
flowers　that　morning　when　they　were　out　with　Mr。　Sutherland。　　Had
Mr。　Sutherland　anything　to　do　with　it？　　Was　he　giving　Euphra　a
lesson　in　flowers　such　as　he　had　given　him　in　pigs？

Miss　Cameron　presently　drew　Hugh　into　conversation　again；　and　the
old　times　were　once　more　forgotten　for　a　season。　　They　were　worthy
of　distinguishing　notethat　trio　in　those　spring　woods：　the　boy
waking　up　to　feel　that　flowers　and　buds　were　lovelier　in　the　woods
than　in　verses；　Euphra　finding　everything　about　her　sentimentally
useful；　and　really　delighting　in　the　prettinesses　they　suggested　to
her；　and　Hugh　regarding　the　whole　chiefly　as　a　material　and　means
for　reproducing　in　verse　such　impressions　of　delight　as　he　had
received　and　still　received　from　all　（but　the　highest）　poetry　about
nature。　　The　presence　of　Harry　and　his　necessities　was　certainly　a
saving　influence　upon　Hugh；　but；　however　much　he　sought　to　realize
Harry's　life；　he　himself；　at　this　period　of　his　history；　enjoyed
everything　artistically　far　more　than　humanly。

Margaret　would　have　walked　through　all　this　infant　summer　without
speaking　at　all；　but　with　a　deep　light　far　back　in　her　quiet　eyes。
Perhaps　she　would　not　have　had　many　thoughts　about　the　flowers。
Rather　she　would　have　thought　the　very　flowers　themselves；　would
have　been　at　home　with　them；　in　a　delighted　oneness　with　their　life
and　expression。　　Certainly　she　would　have　walked　through　them　with
reverence；　and　would　not　have　petted　or　patronised　nature　by　saying
pretty　things　about　her　children。　　Their　life　would　have　entered
into　her；　and　she　would　have　hardly　known　it　from　her　own。　　I
daresay　Miss　Cameron　would　have　called　a　mountain　a　darling　or　a
beauty。　　But　there　are　other　ways　of　showing　affection　than　by
patting　and　pettingthough　Margaret；　for　her　part；　would　have
needed　no　art…expression；　because　she　had　the　things　themselves。　　It
is　not　always　those　who　utter　best　who　feel　most；　and　the　dumb　poets
are　sometimes　dumb　because　it　would　need　the　〃large　utterance　of　the
early　gods〃　to　carry　their　thoughts　through　the　gates　of　speech。

But　the　fancy　and　skin…sympathy　of　Miss　Cameron　began　already　to
tell　upon　Hugh。　He　knew　very　little　of　women；　and　had　never　heard　a
woman　talk　as　she　talked。　　He　did　not　know　how　cheap　this
accomplishment　is；　and　took　it　for　sensibility；　imaginativeness；　and
even　originality。　　He　thought　she　was　far　more　en　rapport　with
nature　than　he　was。　　It　was　much　easier　to　make　this　mistake　after
hearing　the　really　delightful　way　in　which　she　sang。　　Certainly　she
could　not　have　sung　so；　perhaps　not　even　have　talked　so；　except　she
had