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robert falconer-第148章

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and blue; tripping lightly through the avenue of their eager

eyesnot yet too envious of unattainable felicity to gaze with

admiring sympathy on those who seemed to them the angels; the

goddesses of their kind。 'O God!'  I thought; but dared not speak;

'and thou couldst make all these girls so lovely!  Thou couldst give

them all the gracious garments of rose and blue and white if thou

wouldst!  Why should these not be like those?  They are hungry even;

and wan and torn。  These too are thy children。  There is wealth

enough in thy mines and in thy green fields; room enough in thy

starry spaces; O God!'  But a voicethe echo of Falconer's

teaching; awoke in my heart'Because I would have these more

blessed than those; and those more blessed with them; for they are

all my children。'



By the Mall we came into Whitehall; and so to Westminster Bridge。

Falconer had changed his mind; and would cross at once。  The

present bridge was not then finished; and the old bridge alongside

of it was still in use for pedestrians。  We went upon it to reach

the other side。  Its centre rose high above the other; for the line

of the new bridge ran like a chord across the arc of the old。

Through chance gaps in the boarding between; we looked down on the

new portion which was as yet used by carriages alone。  The moon had;

throughout the evening; alternately shone in brilliance from amidst

a lake of blue sky; and been overwhelmed in billowy heaps of

wind…tormented clouds。  As we stood on the apex of the bridge;

looking at the night; the dark river; and the mass of human effort

about us; the clouds gathered and closed and tumbled upon her in

crowded layers。  The wind howled through the arches beneath; swept

along the boarded fences; and whistled in their holes。  The

gas…lights blew hither and thither; and were perplexed to live at

all。



We were standing at a spot where some shorter pieces had been used

in the hoarding; and; although I could not see over them; Falconer;

whose head rose more than half a foot above mine; was looking on the

other bridge below。  Suddenly he grasped the top with his great

hands; and his huge frame was over it in an instant。  I was on the

top of the hoarding the same moment; and saw him prostrate some

twelve feet below。  He was up the next instant; and running with

huge paces diagonally towards the Surrey side。  He had seen the

figure of a woman come flying along from the Westminster side;

without bonnet or shawl。  When she came under the spot where we

stood; she had turned across at an obtuse angle towards the other

side of the bridge; and Falconer; convinced that she meant to throw

herself into the river; went over as I have related。  She had all

but scrambled over the fencefor there was no parapet yetby the

help of the great beam that ran along to support it; when he caught

her by her garments。  So poor and thin were those garments; that if

she had not been poor and thin too; she would have dropped from them

into the darkness below。  He took her in his arms; lifted her down

upon the bridge; and stood as if protecting her from a pursuing

death。  I had managed to find an easier mode of descent; and now

stood a little way from them。



'Poor girl! poor girl!' he said; as if to himself: 'was this the

only way left?'



Then he spoke tenderly to her。  What he said I could not hearI

only heard the tone。



'O sir!' she cried; in piteous entreaty; 'do let me go。  Why should

a wretched creature like me be forced to live?  It's no good to you;

sir。  Do let me go。'



'Come here;' he said; drawing her close to the fence。 'Stand up

again on the beam。  Look down。'



She obeyed; in a mechanical kind of way。  But as he talked; and she

kept looking down on the dark mystery beneath; flowing past with

every now and then a dull vengeful glittercontinuous; forceful;

slow; he felt her shudder in his still clasping arm。



'Look;' he said; 'how it crawls alongblack and slimy! how silent

and yet how fierce!  Is that a nice place to go to down there?

Would there be any rest there; do you think; tumbled about among

filth and creeping things; and slugs that feed on the dead; among

drowned women like yourself drifting by; and murdered men; and

strangled babies?  Is that the door by which you would like to go

out of the world?'



'It's no worse;' she faltered; 'not so bad as what I should leave

behind。'



'If this were the only way out of it; I would not keep you from it。

I would say; 〃Poor thing! there is no help: she must go。〃  But

there is another way。'



'There is no other way; sirif you knew all;' she said。



'Tell me; then。'



'I cannot。  I dare not。  PleaseI would rather go。'



She looked; from the mere glimpses I could get of her; somewhere

about five…and…twenty; making due allowance for the wear of

suffering so evident even in those glimpses。  I think she might have

been beautiful if the waste of her history could have been restored。

That she had had at least some advantages of education; was evident

from both her tone and her speech。  But oh; the wild eyes; and the

tortured lips; drawn back from the teeth with an agony of

hopelessness; as she struggled anew; perhaps mistrusting them; to

escape from the great arms that held her!



'But the river cannot drown you;' Falconer said。 'It can only stop

your breath。  It cannot stop your thinking。  You will go on

thinking; thinking; all the same。  Drowning people remember in a

moment all their past lives。  All their evil deeds come up before

them; as if they were doing them all over again。  So they plunge

back into the past and all its misery。  While their bodies are

drowning; their souls are coming more and more awake。'



'That is dreadful;' she murmured; with her great eyes fixed on his;

and growing steadier in their regard。  She had ceased to struggle;

so he had slackened his hold of her; and she was leaning back

against the fence。



'And then;' he went on; 'what if; instead of closing your eyes; as

you expected; and going to sleep; and forgetting everything; you

should find them come open all at once; in the midst of a multitude

of eyes all round about you; all looking at you; all thinking about

you; all judging you?  What if you should hear; not a tumult of

voices and noises; from which you could hope to hide; but a solemn

company talking about youevery word clear and plain; piercing your

heart with what you could not deny;and you standing naked and

shivering in the midst of them?'



'It is too dreadful!' she cried; making a movement as if the very

horror of the idea had a fascination to draw her towards the

realization of it。 'But;' she added; yielding to Falconer's renewed

grasp; 'they wouldn't be so hard upon me there。  They would not be

so cruel as men are here。'



'Surely not。  But all men are not cruel。  I am not cruel;' he added;

forgetting himself for a moment; and caressing with his huge hand

the wild pale face that gli
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