第十章（第17/34页）

"Tha mun come to the cottage one time," he said, "shall ta? We might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb." It puzzled her, his queer, persistent wanting her, when there was nothing between them, when he never really spoke to her, and in spite of herself she resented the dialect. His "tha mun come' seemed not addressed to her, but some common woman. She recognized the foxglove leaves of the riding and knew, more or less, where they were.

“哪天去俺家，”他说，“咋样？咱们干脆一不做二不休。”他那样偏执地渴望着她，让她感到迷惑不解，因为两人间此前几乎没有任何交集，他从来没有正经地跟她交谈过，而且她对那土腔土调又莫名地厌恶。他那句“来俺家”似乎并不是在对她说，而是跟某个粗俗的婆娘在交谈。她发现马道上的毛地黄叶，对两人此刻所处的位置，已大概有数。

"It's quarter past seven," he said, "you'll do it.” He had changed his voice, seemed to feel her distance. As they turned the last bend in the riding towards the hazel wall and the gate, he blew out the light. "We'll see from here," be said, taking her gently by the arm.

“现在是七点一刻，”他说，“你赶得及回家吃晚餐。”似乎觉察到她疏离的态度，他收起土语。他俩走过马道最末的拐弯处，前面就是低矮的榛丛以及花园的大门，他将灯吹熄。“在这儿会被人发现的。”他解释道，轻轻挽起她的胳膊。

But it was difficult, the earth under their feet was a mystery, but he felt his way by tread: he was used to it. At the gate he gave her his electric torch. "It's a bit lighter in the park," he said; "but take it for fear you get off th' path.” It was true, there seemed a ghost-glimmer of greyness in the open space of the park. He suddenly drew her to him and whipped his hand under her dress again, feeling her warm body with his wet, chill hand.

摸黑走夜路确实不太容易，完全不清楚脚下的状况，但好在他早已习惯如此，能够用脚试探着前进。到了园门外，他把自己的手电筒交给她。“花园里亮堂许多，”他说，“但还是带上它，以免迷路。”他说的没错，空旷的花园里，似乎闪烁着幽暗的鬼火。他猛地将她揽入怀中，将潮湿冰冷的手探入她的衣裙，摸索着那温热的肉体。

"I could die for the touch of a woman like thee," he said in his throat. "If tha' would stop another minute.” She felt the sudden force of his wanting her again.

“能摸到想恁这样的女人，俺死也甘愿。”他的声音变得嘶哑。“再让俺摸一分钟吧。”她感觉到他的欲火再度燃起。

"No, I must run," she said, a little wildly.

“不行，我必须快点赶回去。”她说，有些乱了分寸。

"Ay," he replied, suddenly changed, letting her go.

“是呀。”他叹道，突然偃旗息鼓，将她放开。

She turned away, and on the instant she turned back to him saying: "Kiss me." He bent over her indistinguishable and kissed her on the left eye. She held her mouth and he softly kissed it, but at once drew away. He hated mouth kisses.

她背过脸去，但又立刻转身对他说：“吻我。”暗夜里伸手不见五指，他俯下身体，亲吻着她的左眼。她扬起嘴唇，他轻啄后，随即挪开。他不喜欢湿吻。

"I'll come tomorrow," she said, drawing away; "if I can," she added.

“我明天再来，”她边说，边挣脱他的怀抱，“要是有机会的话，”她补充道。

"Ay! Not so late," he replied out of the darkness. Already she could not see him at all.

“是呀！别来得太晚。”黑暗中，只听得见他的声音。她已经完全看不到他的身影。

"Goodnight," she said.

“晚安。”她说。

"Goodnight, your Ladyship," his voice.

“晚安，夫人。”他回答。

She stopped and looked back into the wet dark. She could just see the bulk of him. "Why did you say that?" she said.

她停住脚步，回头望向细雨霏霏的暗夜。她只能辨出他的轮廓。“你为什么还那样称呼我？”她问。

"Nay," he replied. "Goodnight then, run!" She plunged on in the dark-grey tangible night. She found the side-door open, and slipped into her room unseen. As she closed the door the gong sounded, but she would take her bath all the same—she must take her bath. "But I won't be late any more," she said to herself; "it's too annoying.” The next day she did not go to the wood. She went instead with Clifford to Uthwaite. He could occasionally go out now in the car, and had got a strong young man as chauffeur, who could help him out of the car if need be. He particularly wanted to see his godfather, Leslie Winter, who lived at Shipley Hall, not far from Uthwaite. Winter was an elderly gentleman now, wealthy, one of the wealthy coal-owners who had had their hey-day in King Edward's time. King Edward had stayed more than once at Shipley, for the shooting. It was a handsome old stucco hall, very elegantly appointed, for Winter was a bachelor and prided himself on his style; but the place was beset by collieries. Leslie Winter was attached to Clifford, but personally did not entertain a great respect for him, because of the photographs in illustrated papers and the literature. The old man was a buck of the King Edward school, who thought life was life and the scribbling fellows were something else. Towards Connie the Squire was always rather gallant; he thought her an attractive demure maiden and rather wasted on Clifford, and it was a thousand pities she stood no chance of bringing forth an heir to Wragby. He himself had no heir.