the white people-第6章

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〃I　beg　pardon。　　I　forgot；〃　I　even　stammered　a　little。　　〃It　is　only　my　way　of　thinking　of　those　fair　people　one　sees；　those　very　fair　ones；　you　knowthe　ones　whose　fairness　looks　almost　transparent。　　There　are　not　many　of　them；　of　course；　but　one　can't　help　noticing　them　when　they　pass　in　the　street　or　come　into　a　room。　　You　must　have　noticed　them；　too。　　I　always　call　them；　to　myself；　the　White　People；　because　they　are　different　from　the　rest　of　us。　　The　poor　mother　wasn't　one；　but　the　child　was。　　Perhaps　that　was　why　I　looked　at　it；　at　first。　　It　was　such　a　lovely　little　thing；　and　the　whiteness　made　it　look　delicate；　and　I　could　not　help　thinking〃　　I　hesitated；　because　it　seemed　almost　unkind　to　finish。

〃You　thought　that　if　she　had　just　lost　one　child　she　ought　to　take　more　care　of　the　other；〃　he　ended　for　me。　　There　was　a　deep　thoughtfulness　in　his　look；　as　if　he　were　watching　me。　　I　wondered　why。

〃I　wish　I　had　paid　more　attention　to　the　little　creature；〃　he　said；　very　gently。　　〃Did　it　cry？〃

〃No；〃　I　answered。　　〃It　only　clung　to　her　and　patted　her　black　sleeve　and　kissed　it；　as　if　it　wanted　to　comfort　her。　　I　kept　expecting　it　to　cry；　but　it　didn't。　　It　made　me　cry　because　it　seemed　so　sure　that　it　could　comfort　her　if　she　would　only　remember　that　it　was　alive　and　loved　her。　　I　wish；　I　wish　death　did　not　make　people　feel　as　if　it　filled　all　the　worldas　if；　when　it　happens；　there　is　no　life　left　anywhere。　　The　child　who　was　alive　by　her　side　did　not　seem　a　living　thing　to　her。　　It　didn't　matter。〃

I　had　never　said　as　much　to　any　one　before；　but　his　watching　eyes　made　me　forget　my　shy　worldlessness。

〃What　do　you　feel　about　itdeath？〃　he　asked。

The　low　gentleness　of　his　voice　seemed　something　I　had　known　always。

〃I　never　saw　it；〃　I　answered。　　〃I　have　never　even　seen　any　one　dangerously　ill。　　I　It　is　as　if　I　can't　believe　it。〃

〃You　can't　believe　it？　　That　is　a　wonderful　thing；〃　he　said；　even　more　quietly　than　before。

〃If　none　of　us　believed；　how　wonderful　that　would　be！　　Beautiful；　too。〃

〃How　that　poor　mother　believed　it！〃　I　said；　remembering　her　swollen；　distorted；　sobbing　face。　　〃She　believed　nothing　else；　everything　else　was　gone。〃

〃I　wonder　what　would　have　happened　if　you　had　spoken　to　her　about　the　child？〃　he　said；　slowly；　as　if　he　were　trying　to　imagine　it。

〃I'm　a　very　shy　person。　　I　should　never　have　courage　to　speak　to　a　stranger；〃　I　answered。

〃I'm　afraid　I'm　a　coward；　too。　　She　might　have　thought　me　interfering。〃

〃She　might　not　have　understood；〃　he　murmured。

〃It　was　clinging　to　her　dress　when　she　walked　away　down　the　platform；〃　I　went　on。　　〃I　dare　say　you　noticed　it　then？〃

〃Not　as　you　did。　　I　wish　I　had　noticed　it　more；〃　was　his　answer。　　〃Poor　little　White　One！〃

That　led　us　into　our　talk　about　the　White　People。　　He　said　he　did　not　think　he　was　exactly　an　observant　person　in　some　respects。　　Remembering　his　books；　which　seemed　to　me　the　work　of　a　man　who　saw　and　understood　everything　in　the　world；　I　could　not　comprehend　his　thinking　that；　and　I　told　him　so。　　But　he　replied　that　what　I　had　said　about　my　White　People　made　him　feel　that　he　must　be　abstracted　sometimes　and　miss　things。　　He　did　not　remember　having　noticed　the　rare　fairness　I　had　seen。　　He　smiled　as　he　said　it；　because；　of　course；　it　was　only　a　little　thing　that　he　had　not　seen　that　some　people　were　so　much　fairer　than　others。

〃But　it　has　not　been　a　little　thing　to　you；　evidently。　　That　is　why　I　am　even　rather　curious　about　it；〃　he　explained。　　〃It　is　a　difference　definite　enough　to　make　you　speak　almost　as　if　they　were　of　a　different　race　from　ours。〃

I　sat　silent　a　few　seconds；　thinking　it　over。　　Suddenly　I　realized　what　I　had　never　realized　before。

〃Do　you　know；〃　I　said；　as　slowly　as　he　himself　had　spoken；　〃I　did　not　know　that　was　true　until　you　put　it　into　words。　　I　am　so　used　to　thinking　of　them　as　different；　somehow；　that　I　suppose　I　do　feel　as　if　they　were　almost　like　another　race；　in　a　way。　　Perhaps　one　would　feel　like　that　with　a　native　Indian；　or　a　Japanese。〃

〃I　dare　say　that　is　a　good　simile；〃　he　reflected。　　〃Are　they　different　when　you　know　them　well？〃

〃I　have　never　known　one　but　Wee　Brown　Elspeth；〃　I　answered；　thinking　it　over。

He　did　start　then；　in　the　strangest　way。

〃What！〃　he　exclaimed。　　〃What　did　you　say？〃

I　was　quite　startled　myself。　　Suddenly　he　looked　pale；　and　his　breath　caught　itself。

〃I　said　Wee　Elspeth；　Wee　Brown　Elspeth。　　She　was　only　a　child　who　played　with　me；〃　I　stammered；　〃when　I　was　little。〃

He　pulled　himself　together　almost　instantly；　though　the　color　did　not　come　back　to　his　face　at　once　and　his　voice　was　not　steady　for　a　few　seconds。　　But　he　laughed　outright　at　himself。

〃I　beg　your　pardon；〃　he　apologized。　　〃I　have　been　ill　and　am　rather　nervous。　　I　thought　you　said　something　you　could　not　possibly　have　said。　　I　almost　frightened　you。　　And　you　were　only　speaking　of　a　little　playmate。　　Please　go　on。〃

〃I　was　only　going　to　say　that　she　was　fair　like　that；　fairer　than　any　one　I　had　ever　seen；　but　when　we　played　together　she　seemed　like　any　other　child。　　She　was　the　first　I　ever　knew。〃

I　told　him　about　the　misty　day　on　the　moor；　and　about　the　pale　troopers　and　the　big；　lean　leader　who　carried　Elspeth　before　him　on　his　saddle。　　I　had　never　talked　to　any　one　about　it　before；　not　even　to　Jean　Braidfute。　　But　he　seemed　to　be　so　interested；　as　if　the　little　story　quite　fascinated　him。　　It　was　only　an　episode；　but　it　brought　in　the　weirdness　of　the　moor　and　my　childish　fancies　about　the　things　hiding　in　the　white　mist；　and　the　castle　frowning　on　its　rock；　and　my　baby　face　pressed　against　the　nursery　window　in　the　tower；　and　Angus　and　the　library；　and　Jean　and　her　goodness　and　wise　ways。　　It　was　dreadful　to　talk　so　much　about　oneself。　　But　he　listened　so。　　His　eyes　never　left　my　facethey　watched　and　held　me　as　if　he　were　enthralled。　　Sometimes　he　asked　a　question。

〃I　wonder　who　they　werethe　horsemen？〃　he　pondered。　　〃Did　you　ever　ask　Wee　Elspeth？〃

〃We　were　both　too　little　to　care。　　We　only　played；〃　I　answered　him。　　〃And　they　came　and　went　so　quickly　that　they　were　only　a　sort　of　dream。〃

〃They　seem　to　have　been　a　strange　lot。　　Wasn't　Angus　curious　about　them？〃　he　suggested。

〃Angus　never　was　curious　about　anything；〃　I　said。　　〃Perhaps　he　knew　something　about　them　and　would　not　tell　me。　　When　I　was　a　little　thing　I　always　knew　he　and　Jean　had　secrets　I　was　too　young　to　hear。　　They　hid　sad　and　ugly　things　from　me；　or　things　that　might　frighten　a　child。　　They　were　very　good。〃

〃Yes；　they　were　good；〃　he　said；　thoughtfully。

I　think　any　one　would　have　been　pleased　to　find　herself　talking　quietly　to　a　great　genius　as　quietly　as　if　he　were　quite　an　ordinary　person；　but　to　me　the　experience　was　wonderful。　　I　had

thought　about　him　so　much　and　with　such　adoring　reverence。　　And　he　looked　at　me　as　if　he　truly　liked　me；　even　as　if　I　were　something　newa　sort　of　discovery　which　interested　him。　　I　dare　say　that　he　had　never　before　seen　a　girl　who　had　lived　so　much　alone　and　in　such　a　remote　and　wild　place。

I　believe　Sir　Ian　and　his　wife　were　pleased；　too；　to　see　that　I　was　talking。　　They　were　glad　that　their　guests　should　see　that　I　was　intelligent　enough　to　hold　the　attention　even　of　a　clever　man。　　If　Hector　MacNairn　was　interested　in　me　I　could　not　be　as　silly　and　dull　as　I　looked。　　But　on　my　part　I　was　only　full　of　wonder　and　happiness。　　I　was　a　girl；　and　he　had　been　my　only　hero；　and　it　seemed　even　as　if　he　liked　me　and　cared　about　my　queer　life。

He　was　not　a　man　who　had　the　air　of　making　confidences　or　talking　about　himself；　but　before　we　parted　I　seemed　to　know　him　and　his　surroundings　as　if　he　had　described　them。　　A　mere　phrase　of　his　would　make　a　picture。　　Such　a　few　words　made　his　mother　quite　clear　to　me。　　They　loved　each　other　in　an　exquisite；　intimate　way。　　She　was　a　beautiful　person。　　Artists　had　always　painted　her。　　He　and　she　were　completely　happy　when　they　were　together。　　They　lived　in　a　house　in　the　country；　and　I　could　not　at　all　tell　how　I　discovered　that　it　was　an　old　house　with　beautiful　chimneys　and　a　very　big　garden　with　curious　high　walls　with　corner　towers　round　it。　　He　only　spoke　of　it　briefly；　but　I　saw　it　as　a　picture；　and　always　af