按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
〃Nonsense；〃 said William； 〃if she really cared； wouldn't she have been up to bid you good…bye？〃
The words were hardly gone from his lips when there came a little knock at the door。 It was Semiramis； she had come to say good… bye。 Was it in nature not to be touched？ 〃Good…bye；〃 she said； as we stood a moment alone in the hall。 〃I shall always think of you； you shall not be to me as a ship that has passed in the night； though to me you have behaved very like an iceberg。〃
We parted in tears and kisses； and I lived for some weeks with that sense of having been a Nero； till two months after I received a much glazed and silvered card to the usual effect。
And so I ceased to repine for the wound I had made in the heart of Semiramis Wilcox。
Of another whom I met and loved in that brief month in Paris； I cherish tenderer memories。 Prim little Pauline Deschapelles！ How clearly I can still see the respectable brass plate on the door of your little flat 〃Mademoiselle DeschapellesModes et Robes；〃 and indeed the 〃modes et robes〃 were true enough。 For you were in truth a very hard…working little dressmaker； and I well remember how impressed I was to sit beside you； as you plied your needle on some gown that must be finished by the evening； and meditate on the quaint contrast between your almost Puritanic industry and your innocent love of pleasure。 I don't think I ever met a more conscientious little woman than little Pauline Deschapelles。
There was but one drawback to our intercourse。 She didn't know a word of English； and I couldn't speak a word of French。 So we had to make shift to love without either language。 But sometimes Pauline would throw down her stitching in amused impatience； and； going to her dainty secretaire； write me a little message in the simplest baby Frenchwhich I would answer in French which would knit her brows for a moment or two； and then send her off in peals of laughter。
It WAS French！ I know。 Among the bric…a…brac of my heart I still cherish some of those little slips of paper with which we made international lovequestion and answer。
〃Vous allez m'oublier； et ne plus penser a moini me voir。 Les hommesegoistes menteurs； pas dire la verite 。 。 。〃 so ran the questions； considerably devoid of auxiliary verbs and such details of construction。
〃Je serais jamais t'oublier；〃 ran the frightful answers！
Dear Pauline！ Shall I ever see her again？ She was but twenty…six。 She may still live。
CHAPTER XIV
END OF BOOK THREE
So ended my pilgrimage。 I had wandered far； had loved many； but I came back to London without the Golden Girl。 I had begun my pilgrimage with a vision； and it was with a vision that I ended it。 From all my goings to and fro upon the earth； I had brought back only the image of a woman's face；the face of that strange woman of the moorland； still haunting my dreams of the night and the day。
It was autumn in my old garden； damp and forsaken； and the mulberry…tree was hung with little yellow shields。 My books looked weary of awaiting me； and they and the whole lonely house begged me to take them where sometimes they might be handled by human fingers； mellowed by lamplight； cheered by friendly laughter。
The very chairs begged mutely to be sat upon； the chill white beds to be slept in。 Yes； the very furniture seemed even lonelier than myself。
So I took heed of their dumb appeal。
〃I know；〃 I answered them tenderly；〃I too； with you； have looked on better days； I too have been where bells have knoll'd to church； I too have sat at many a good man's feast；yes！ I miss human society； even as you； my books； my bedsteads； and my side… boards；so let it be。 It is plain our little Margaret is not coming back； our little Margaret； dear haunted rooms； will never come back； no longer shall her little silken figure flit up and down your quiet staircases； her hands filled with flowers； and her heart humming with little songs。 Yes； let us go； it is very lonely； we shall die if we stay here all so lonely together； it is time； let us go。〃
So thereon I wrote to a furniture…remover； and went out to walk round the mossy old garden for the last time； and say good…bye to the great mulberry； under whose Dodonaesque shade we had sat half frightened on starry nights； to the apple…trees whose blossom had seemed like fairy…land to Margaret and me； town…bred folk； to the apricots and the peaches and the nectarines that it had seemed almost wicked to own；as though we had gone abroad in silk and velvet；to the little grassy orchard； and to the little green corner of it； where Margaret had fallen asleep that summer afternoon； in the great wicker…chair； and I had brought a dear friend on tiptoe to gaze on her asleep； with her olive cheeks delicately flushed； her great eyelids closed like the cheeks of roses； and her gold hair tumbled about her neck 。 。 。
Well； well； good…bye；tears are foolish things。 They will not bring Margaret back。 Good…bye； old garden； good…bye； I shall never see you again；good…bye。
BOOK IV
THE POSTSCRIPT TO A PILGRIMAGE
CHAPTER I
SIX YEARS AFTER
This book is like a woman's letter。 The most important part of it is the postscript
Six years lie between the end of the last chapter and the beginning of this。 Meanwhile； I had moved to sociable chambers within sound of the city clocks； and had lived the life of a lonely man about town； sinking more and more into the comfortable sloth of bachelorhood。 I had long come to look back upon my pilgrimage as a sort of Indian…summer youth； being； as the reader can reckon for himself； just on thirty…seven。 As one will； with one's most serious experiences； hastening to laugh lest one should weep； as the old philosopher said； I had made some fun out of my quest； in the form of a paper for a bookish society to which I belonged； on 〃Woman as a Learned Pursuit。〃 It is printed among the transactions of the society； and is accessible to the curious only by loan from the members； and I regret that I am unable to print any extracts here。 Perhaps when I am dead the society will see the criminal selfishness of reserving for itself what was meant for mankind。
Meanwhile； however； it is fast locked and buried deep in the archives of the club。 I have two marriages to record in the interval： one that of a young lady whom I must still think of as ‘Nicolete' to Sir Marmaduke Pettigrew； Bart。； of Dultowers Hall； and the other the well…known marriage of Sylvia Joy 。 。 。
Sylvia Joy married after all her fine protestations！ Yes！ but I'm sure you will forgive her； for she was married to a lord。 When one is twenty and romantic one would scorn a woman who would jilt us for wealth and position； at thirty； one would scorn any woman who didn't。 Ah me！ how one changes！ No one； I can honestly say； was happier over these two weddings than I； and I sent Sylvia her petticoat as a wedding present。
But it was to tell of other matters that I reopen this book and once more take up my penmatters so near to my heart that I shrink from writing of them； and am half afraid that the attempt may prove too hard for me after all； and my book end on a broken cry of pain。 Yet； at the same time； I want to write of them； f