第6部分(第3/7 頁)

he　photograph　to　witness　that　she　had　indeed　been　beautiful　in　her　youth。　There　was　aphotograph　of　his　mother；　not　the　John　liked　and　had　only　once；　but　taken　immediatelyafterhermarriage。Andthere（one）　wasaphotographofhisfat（seen）　her；　dressed　in　black；（one）　sittingon　a　country　porch　with　his　hands　folded　heavily　in　his　lap。　The　photograph　had　been　taken　on　asunny　day；　and　the　sunlight　brutally　exaggerated　the　planes　of　his　father’s　face。　He　stared　into　thesun；　head　raised；　unbearable；　and　though　it　had　been　taken　when　he　was　young；　it　was　not　the　faceof　a　young　man；　only　something　archaic　in　the　dress　indicated　that　this　photograph　had　been　takenlong　ago。　At　the　time　this　picture　was　taken；　Aunt　Florence　said；　he　was　already　a　preacher；　andhad　a　wife　who　was　now　in　Heaven。　That　he　had　been　a　preacher　at　that　time　was　not　astonishing；for　it　was　impossible　to　imagine　that　he　had　ever　been　anything　else；　but　that　he　had　had　a　wife　inthe　so　distant　past　who　was　now　dead　filled　John　with　wonder　by　no　means　pleasant。　If　she　hadlived；　John　thought；　then　he　would　never　have　e　North　and　met　his　mother。　And　this　shadowywoman；　dead　so　many　years；　whose　name　he　knew　had　been　Deborah；　held　in　the　fastness　of　hertomb；　it　seemed　to　John；　the　key　to　all　those　mysteries　he　so　longed　to　unlock。　It　was　she　who　hadknown　his　father　in　a　life　where　John　was　not；　and　in　a　country　John　had　never　seen。　When　he　wasnothing；　nowhere；　dust；　cloud；　air；　and　sun；　and　falling　rain；　not　even　thought　of；　said　his　mother；in　Heaven　with　the　angels；　said　his　aunt；　she　had　known　his　father；　and　shared　his　father’s　house。

She　had　loved　his　father。　She　had　known　his　father　when　lightning　flashed　and　thunder　rolledthrough　Heaven；　and　his　father　said：　‘Listen。　God　is　talking。’　She　had　known　him　in　the　mo