第58部分(第2/7 頁)

　imagine　his　life　in

barracks。　Or　she　conjured　up　a　vision　of　herself　as　she　appeared

in　his　eyes。

His　birthday　was　in　August；　and　she　spent　some　pains　on

making　him　a　cake。　She　felt　that　it　would　not　be　in　good　taste

for　her　to　give　him　a　present。

Their　correspondence　was　brief；　mostly　an　exchange　of

post…cards；　not　at　all　frequent。　But　with　her　cake　she　must　send

him　a　letter。

〃Dear　Anton。　The　sunshine　has　e　back　specially　for　your

birthday；　I　think。　I　made　the　cake　myself；　and　wish　you　many

happy　returns　of　the　day。　Don't　eat　it　if　it　is　not　good。　Mother

hopes　you　will　e　and　see　us　when　you　are　near　enough。

〃I　am

〃Your　Sincere　Friend；

〃Ursula　Brangwen。〃

It　bored　her　to　write　a　letter　even　to　him。　After　all；

writing　words　on　paper　had　nothing　to　do　with　him　and　her。

The　fine　weather　had　set　in；　the　cutting　machine　went　on　from

dawn　till　sunset；　chattering　round　the　fields。　She　heard　from

Skrebensky；　he　too　was　on　duty　in　the　country；　on　Salisbury

Plain。　He　was　now　a　second　lieutenant　in　a　Field　Troop。　He　would

have　a　few　days　off　shortly；　and　would　e　to　the　Marsh　for　the

wedding。

Fred　Brangwen　was　going　to　marry　a　schoolmistress　out　of

Ilkeston　as　soon　as　corn…harvest　was　at　an　end。

The　dim　blue…and…gold　of　a　hot；　sweet　autumn　saw　the　close　of

the　corn…harvest。　To　Ursula；　it　was　as　if　the　world　had　opened

its　softest　purest　flower；　its　chicory　flower；　its　meadow

saffron。　The　sky　was　blue　and　sweet；　the　yellow　leaves　down　the

lane　seemed　like　free；　wandering　flowers　as　they　chittered　round

the　feet；　making　a　keen；　poignant；　almost　unbearable　music　to