第6部分(第2/7 頁)

is　fate。　The　world　was　submitting　to

its　transformation。　He　made　no　move：　it　would　e；　what　would

e。

When　his　sister　Effie　came　to　the　Marsh　for　a　week；　he　went

with　her　for　once　to　church。　In　the　tiny　place；　with　its　mere

dozen　pews；　he　sat　not　far　from　the　stranger。　There　was　a

fineness　about　her；　a　poignancy　about　the　way　she　sat　and　held

her　head　lifted。　She　was　strange；　from　far　off；　yet　so　intimate。

She　was　from　far　away；　a　presence；　so　close　to　his　soul。　She　was

not　really　there；　sitting　in　Cossethay　church　beside　her　little

girl。　She　was　not　living　the　apparent　life　of　her　days。　She

belonged　to　somewhere　else。　He　felt　it　poignantly；　as　something

real　and　natural。　But　a　pang　of　fear　for　his　own　concrete　life；

that　was　only　Cossethay；　hurt　him；　and　gave　him　misgiving。

Her　thick　dark　brows　almost　met　above　her　irregular　nose；　she

had　a　wide；　rather　thick　mouth。　But　her　face　was　lifted　to

another　world　of　life：　not　to　heaven　or　death：　but　to　some　place

where　she　still　lived；　in　spite　of　her　body's　absence。

The　child　beside　her　watched　everything　with　wide；　black

eyes。　She　had　an　odd　little　defiant　look；　her　little　red　mouth

was　pinched　shut。　She　seemed　to　be　jealously　guarding　something；

to　be　always　on　the　alert　for　defence。　She　met　Brangwen's　near；

vacant；　intimate　gaze；　and　a　palpitating　hostility；　almost　like

a　flame　of　pain；　came　into　the　wide；　over…conscious　dark

eyes。

The　old　clergyman　droned　on；　Cossethay　sat　unmoved　as　usual。

And　there　was　the　foreign　woman　with　a　foreign　air　about　her；

inviolate；　and　the　strange　child；　also　foreign；　jealously

guarding　something。