THIRTY-FOURTH CHAPTER

"Thank God, that's over," said my husband. Then, half apologetically, he

added: "You didn't seem to enjoy it any more than myself, my dear."

At the entrance to our village a number of men stood firing guns; in the

middle a group of girls were stretching a rope across the road; a number

of small flags, torn by the wind and wet with the rain, were rattling on

flagstaffs hung out from some of the window sills; a few women, with

shawls over their heads, were sheltering on the weather side of their

porches to see us pass.

My husband was impatient of our simple island customs. Once or twice he

lowered the window of the car, threw out a handful of silver and at the

same time urged the chauffeur to drive quicker. As soon as we were clear

of the village he fell back in his seat, saying:

"Heavens, how sleepy I am! No wonder either! Late going to bed last

night and up so early this morning."

After a moment he began to yawn, and almost before he could have been

aware of it he had closed his eyes. At the next moment he was asleep.

It was a painful, almost a hideous sleep. His cheeks swelled and sank;

his lips parted, he was breathing heavily, and sometimes gaping like a

carp out of water.

I could not detach my eyes from his face, which, without eyes to relieve

it, seemed to be almost repulsive now. It would be difficult to describe

my sensations. I felt dreadfully humiliated. Even my personal pride was

wounded. I remembered what Father Dan had said about husband and wife

being one flesh, and told myself that _this_ was what I belonged to,

what belonged to me--_this!_ Then I tried to reproach and reprove

myself, but in order to do so I had to turn my eyes away.

Our road to Blackwater lay over the ridge of a hill much exposed to the

wind from the south-west. When we reached this point the clouds seemed

to roll up from the sea like tempestuous battalions. Torrential rain

fell on the car and came dripping in from the juncture of the

landaulette roof. Some of it fell on the sleeper and he awoke with a

start.

"Damn--"

He stopped, as if, caught in guilt, and began to apologise again.

"Was I asleep? I really think I must have been. Stupid, isn't it? Excuse

me."

He blinked his eyes as if to empty them of sleep, looked me over for a

moment or two in silence, and then said with a smile which made me

shudder:

"So you and I are man and wife, my dear!"

The Woman Thou Gavest Me; Being the Story of Mary O'Neill · 第 82 / 284 题