第10部分(第2/7 頁)

trees　the　snow　was　soft　in

bloom。　Only　the　voice　of　the　dying　vicar　spoke　grey　and

querulous　from　behind。

By　the　time　the　snowdrops　were　out；　however；　he　was　dead。　He

was　dead。　But　ity　the　returning　woman

watched　the　snowdrops　on　the　edge　of　the　grass　below；　blown

white　in　the　wind；　but　not　to　be　blown　away。　She　watched　them

fluttering　and　bobbing；　the　white；　shut　flowers；　anchored　by　a

thread　to　the　grey…green　grass；　yet　never　blown　away；　not

drifting　with　the　wind。

As　she　rose　in　the　morning；　the　dawn　was　beating　up　white；

gusts　of　light　blown　like　a　thin　snowstorm　from　the　east；　blown

stronger　and　fiercer；　till　the　rose　appeared；　and　the　gold；　and

the　sea　lit　up　below。　She　was　impassive　and　indifferent。　Yet　she

was　outside　the　enclosure　of　darkness。

There　passed　a　space　of　shadow　again；　the　familiarity　of

dread…worship；　during　which　she　was　moved；　oblivious；　to

Cossethay。　There；　at　first；　there　was　nothing……just　grey

nothing。　But　then　one　morning　there　was　a　light　from　the　yellow

jasmine　caught　her；　and　after　that；　morning　and　evening；　the

persistent　ringing　of　thrushes　from　the　shrubbery；　till　her

heart；　beaten　upon；　was　forced　to　lift　up　its　voice　in　rivalry

and　answer。　Little　tunes　came　into　her　mind。　She　was　full　of

trouble　almost　like　anguish。　Resistant；　she　knew　she　was　beaten；

and　from　fear　of　darkness　turned　to　fear　of　light。　She　would

have　hidden　herself　indoors；　if　she　could。　Above　all；　she　craved

for　the　peace　and　heavy　oblivion　of　her　old　state。　She　could　not

bear　to　e　to；　to　realize。　The　first　pangs　of　this　new

parturition　were　so　acute；　she　knew　she　could　not　b