第一百二十章
菲利普睡得像个死人一样，蓦地从梦中惊起，发觉哈罗德手里正拿了根羽毛在他脸上撩痒呢。他睁开眼皮的当儿，身边爆发出一阵欢笑声。此时，菲利普却还像喝醉了酒似的，睡眼惺忪，迷迷糊糊的。
"快爬起来，你这个懒骨头，"吉恩嚷道，"莎莉说你不赶紧起来，她可不等你了。"
吉恩这么一嚷，菲利普才明白过来是怎么回事。他的心不由得一沉，刚刚钻出被窝的身子突然一动不动，心里直担忧自己怎么有脸去见莎莉。顿时，他内心充满了一种自责的心情，一个劲儿地懊恨自己竟干出这种事儿来。这天早晨，莎莉会对他说些什么呢？他害怕见到莎莉，心里不住地责问自己怎么这样傻呢。但是，孩子们可不给他时间多想，爱德华已经给他拿好了毛巾和衬裤，而阿特尔斯坦已把他的被子给掀掉了。三分钟以后，他们全都噔噔奔下楼梯，来到户外。莎莉朝他微微一笑，那笑容跟往常一样，依然是那么甜蜜，那么纯洁。
"你穿衣服真费时间哪，"莎莉说，"我还当你不会来了呢。"
她的态度没有一丝异样的感觉。菲利普原以为她的态度会起微妙的变化，或者来个一百八十度的大转弯；他曾想莎莉见到他时会羞怯忸怩，或者会怒形于色，或许会比以前更亲热一些呢，可是她的神态却同以往一模一样，没有一点变化。他们结伴走向海滨；一路上谈笑风生。然而莎莉却一声不吭，不过她总是这样的含蓄、娴静，菲利普还从来没看到她不是这个样子的呢。莎莉既不主动说话，别人跟她说话时也不有意规避。这下可把菲利普吓坏了。他曾巴望前一天夜里他俩之间发生的事儿总会对莎莉带来些变化，可是从眼前的情景看来，就好像他俩之间啥事也没有发生似的。他仿佛觉得自己堕入五里雾中似的。菲利普向前走去，一手搀了个女孩，另一手拉着一个男孩的手，说话时，他尽量装出一副漫不经心的样子，企图借此求得个答案来。他脑海里折腾开了，不知莎莉是否把他俩之间发生的事儿忘了个精光。或许，莎莉也跟他一样，一时间感情上涌不能自制而干出那种傻事，只是把它当作在特殊情况下发生的突然事故来看待，眼下她兴许下决心把那件事从她脑海中涤除掉。这只能归结于与她的年龄和性格极不相称的意志力和早熟的智慧。菲利普意识到他对莎莉毫无了解，总觉得她身上蕴藏着一个令人猜不透的谜。
他们在海里玩跳背游戏，孩子们不住地鼓噪着，戏耍着，其热闹场面同前一天没有两样。可莎莉对他们像是个母亲似的，警觉地照料着他们，一见他们游得太远了，就把他们唤回来。当别的孩子们玩得热火朝天的时候，她却自个儿不紧不慢地在水里游来游去，时而仰卧在水面上，顺水漂浮着。不多时，她便爬上海滩，开始擦干身子，接着带着命令的口吻，把孩子们一个个唤出水，最后就剩下菲利普还在海里。菲利普乘机游了个痛快。他来到这儿，已是第二天了，对这冰凉的海水倒也适应了；对置身在散发着带有咸味的新鲜气息的大海中，他感到由衷的喜悦。他为自己的四肢能舒展自如地翻腾在碧波之中，心里有说不出的高兴，于是以坚强有力的动作在水里不停地划着，游着。然而，这时莎莉身上围了条浴巾，来到了海边。
"菲利普，你马上给我上来，"莎莉喊道，仿佛菲利普只是个归她照料的小孩子。
菲利普看到她俨然一副权威的神气，不觉有趣，便脸带微笑地向她跟前游来。这时，莎莉嗔怪地说：
"你真顽皮，赖在水里这么久不上来。你的嘴唇都发紫了，瞧你的牙齿，冷得直打哆嗦。"
"好，听你的，我这就上岸。"
莎莉从来还没有用这种态度同他说过话。看来，他俩之间发生的事情像是给予她一种制约他的权利似的。她完全把菲利普当作由她照料的孩子来看待了。几分钟以后，他们都穿好了衣服，便一同往回走去。莎莉两眼盯视着菲利普的双手。
"瞧，你那双手都冻得发紫了。"
"哦，没关系的。不过是血液循环的问题，要不了多久，就会正常的。"
"把手给我。"
莎莉把菲利普的双手握在自己的手掌心里，分别在他的两只手上不停地擦着，直到他的手泛起血色为止。菲利普深受感动，但又迷惑不解，两眼直勾勾地望着她。因为身边有别的孩子在，他不好说什么，也没接触她的目光。不过他心里明白，她那双眼睛决不是有意避开他的眼光的，只是没有相遇罢了。那大白天，莎莉的一举一动丝毫没有流露出一点她意识到他们俩之间发生的事情。要说有什么变化的话，那就是她比平时话说得多一些。当他们一起坐在蛇麻子草场时，莎莉告诉她母亲，说菲利普太顽皮了，直到浑身冻得发紫才上岸来。这件事简直不可思议。然而，看来前一天夜里所发生的事情，只是激发她处处保护菲利普的情感而已。正如对待她的弟妹们那样，她对他也抱有同样的一个做母亲的天性。
直到黄昏时分，菲利普才有个单独同莎莉相处的机会。那会儿，莎莉在张罗晚饭，而菲利普就坐在火堆旁的草地上。阿特尔涅太太到下边的村子里买东西去了，而孩子们则一个个散在各处，玩各自喜爱的游戏。菲利普局促不安，想说些什么，却又说不出来。莎莉态度安详，手脚麻利地忙乎着。沉默使得菲利普根尴尬，可她却无动于衷。除非是有事非讲不一可或者有人同她说话，否则莎莉一般很少主动开口说话的。菲利普最后实在憋不住了。
"莎莉，你生我的气了？"他突然脱口问了一句。
莎莉不声不响地抬起眼皮，毫无表情地望了望菲利普。
"我？不生气呀。干吗要生气呢？"
菲利普听完不觉一惊，无言以对。莎莉揭开锅盖，捣了揭锅里的食物，然后又盖上锅盖。周围空气里飘溢着一股食物的香味。莎莉又朝菲利普望了一眼，双唇微启，脸上露出一丝淡淡的笑容。倒是她那双眸子里充满了笑意。
"我一直很喜欢你，"她说。
菲利普的心不由得咯噔一下，顿觉双颊绯红。他勉强地轻声笑了笑。
"我以前可不知道这一点。"
"那因为你是个傻瓜呗。"
"我不知道你为什么喜欢我。"
"我自己也说不清楚，"她说着，又往火里添了些柴禾。"你饿着肚子在外露宿了几天之后来到我家的情景，你还记得吗？就在那一天，我知道自己喜欢上你了。那天是我和妈妈两人把索普睡的床腾出来给你睡的嘛。"
菲利普的脸又涨得通红，因为他不知道她心里竟老是记着那件事，而他自己一想起那件事，心里总是充满了恐惧和羞愧。
"就是为了这个缘故，我才决心不跟旁的什么人有什么瓜葛。你还记得妈妈要我嫁给那个年轻人的事儿吗？我让他到我家来，是因为他老是死乞白赖地缠着我，不过我心里明白我是不同意这桩婚事的。"
菲利普惊讶得连一句话也说不出来，一股不可名状的情感涌上心头，如果这种情感不叫幸福的话，他还真不知道叫什么呢。莎莉再次捣了捣锅里的食物。
"真希望孩子们赶快回来吃饭。不知道他们溜到哪里去了。晚饭已经好了。"
"要不要我去找他们回来？"菲利普接着问了一句。
能有机会聊聊家庭琐事，菲利普感到不那么紧张。
"嗯，你这个主意倒也不错，我得说……喔，妈妈回来了。"
接着，菲利普从草地上站了起来，这当儿，莎莉不无尴尬地望着他。
"今晚我把孩子们送上床后，要不要我来陪你散散步呀？"
"好的。"
"嗯，你就在梯蹬旁边等着，我事一完就去找你。"
满天星斗下，菲利普坐在梯磴上静静地等候着，身子掩映在两边高高耸起的即将成熟的黑草丛中。泥土里散发出阵阵沁人心脾的芬芳气息，四周笼罩在一片静谧、幽雅的气氛之中。他的心狂跳不止。他对眼前发生的一切都不甚了了。他通常总是把情爱与喊声、眼泪和狂热联系在一起，可是在莎莉身上，那些东西却连个影子都看不到。尽管如此，他还是猜不透除了爱情外还能是什么使得莎莉委身于他呢？但是莎莉爱他吗？她的姨兄彼得·甘恩，腰板挺挺的瘦高个儿，脸色黧黑，走起路来步履轻巧且跨度又大。要是她钟情于她的姨兄，菲利普一点也不会觉得奇怪的。他心中不由得纳闷起来，莎莉究竟看中他什么来着。他不知道莎莉是否正像他理解的爱情的含义那样爱恋着他。要不然又是什么呢？他对莎莉的纯洁深信不疑。他隐约觉得许多事情交融在一起，这中间包括那令人陶醉的空气、蛇麻子草和那迷人的夜晚，一个女性与生俱来的健美的本能，满腔的柔情蜜意和一种母爱与姐妹之情交织在一起的情感。对这一切，莎莉虽并未意识到，但却实实在在地感觉到。她心里充满了仁爱，所以才把她所有的一切奉献给他。
菲利普听到大路上传来了一阵脚步声，接着从茫茫的夜色里显出一个人影来。
"莎莉！"菲利普低声地唤了一声。
莎莉收住脚步，站在梯磴跟前。随着她的到来，四周蓦地飘溢出一股甜丝丝的、清新的乡村气息。她身上仿佛带有新割的干草的芳香，熟透了的蛇麻子的香味和青葱嫩草的清新气息。她那柔软的双唇紧紧地贴着他的双唇，她那健康娇美的身躯平躺在他的怀抱里。
"牛奶和蜂蜜，"菲利普喃喃说道，"你就像那牛奶和蜂蜜。"
他使莎莉合上双眼，随即-一地亲吻着她的眼睑。她那丰腴、健壮的手臂裸露到肘部，菲利普的手在上面轻轻地抚摩着，惊奇地注视着她那美丽的手臂。她的手臂在黑暗里闪烁着光辉，就像鲁宾斯画的那样，白得出奇，给人以透明感，手臂一侧长着金黄色的茸茸汗毛。这是撒克逊女神才有的手臂，然而，没有一个不朽者的手臂有她的那样优美和富有天然淳朴的意趣。菲利普不觉想起了村舍花园，里面盛开着只有在男人心中才能开放的可亲可爱的鲜花；想起了蜀葵和命名为约克和兰卡斯特的红白两色相间的玫瑰花束；还想起了黑种草、美国石竹、忍冬草、飞燕和虎耳草。
"你怎么会看上我的呢？"菲利普说，"我只是个平平常常的、微不足道的瘸子，长得又丑。"
莎莉双手捧住菲利普的脸，亲吻着他的嘴唇。
"你真是个地地道道的傻瓜，"莎莉接着说。
philip slept like a log and awoke with a start to find harold tickling his face with a feather. there was a shout of delight when he opened his eyes. he was drunken with sleep.
‘come on, lazybones,’ said jane. ‘sally says she won’t wait for you unless you hurry up.’
then he remembered what had happened. his heart sank, and, half out of bed already, he stopped; he did not know how he was going to face her; he was overwhelmed with a sudden rush of self-reproach, and bitterly, bitterly, he regretted what he had done. what would she say to him that morning? he dreaded meeting her, and he asked himself how he could have been such a fool. but the children gave him no time; edward took his bathing-drawers and his towel, athelstan tore the bed-clothes away; and in three minutes they all clattered down into the road. sally gave him a smile. it was as sweet and innocent as it had ever been.
‘you do take a time to dress yourself,’ she said. ‘i thought you was never coming.’
there was not a particle of difference in her manner. he had expected some change, subtle or abrupt; he fancied that there would be shame in the way she treated him, or anger, or perhaps some increase of familiarity; but there was nothing. she was exactly the same as before. they walked towards the sea all together, talking and laughing; and sally was quiet, but she was always that, reserved, but he had never seen her otherwise, and gentle. she neither sought conversation with him nor avoided it. philip was astounded. he had expected the incident of the night before to have caused some revolution in her, but it was just as though nothing had happened; it might have been a dream; and as he walked along, a little girl holding on to one hand and a little boy to the other, while he chatted as unconcernedly as he could, he sought for an explanation. he wondered whether sally meant the affair to be forgotten. perhaps her senses had run away with her just as his had, and, treating what had occurred as an accident due to unusual circumstances, it might be that she had decided to put the matter out of her mind. it was ascribing to her a power of thought and a mature wisdom which fitted neither with her age nor with her character. but he realised that he knew nothing of her. there had been in her always something enigmatic.
they played leap-frog in the water, and the bathe was as uproarious as on the previous day. sally mothered them all, keeping a watchful eye on them, and calling to them when they went out too far. she swam staidly backwards and forwards while the others got up to their larks, and now and then turned on her back to float. presently she went out and began drying herself; she called to the others more or less peremptorily, and at last only philip was left in the water. he took the opportunity to have a good hard swim. he was more used to the cold water this second morning, and he revelled in its salt freshness; it rejoiced him to use his limbs freely, and he covered the water with long, firm strokes. but sally, with a towel round her, went down to the water’s edge.
‘you’re to come out this minute, philip,’ she called, as though he were a small boy under her charge.
and when, smiling with amusement at her authoritative way, he came towards her, she upbraided him.
‘it is naughty of you to stay in so long. your lips are quite blue, and just look at your teeth, they’re chattering.’
‘all right. i’ll come out.’
she had never talked to him in that manner before. it was as though what had happened gave her a sort of right over him, and she looked upon him as a child to be cared for. in a few minutes they were dressed, and they started to walk back. sally noticed his hands.
‘just look, they’re quite blue.’
‘oh, that’s all right. it’s only the circulation. i shall get the blood back in a minute.’
‘give them to me.’
she took his hands in hers and rubbed them, first one and then the other, till the colour returned. philip, touched and puzzled, watched her. he could not say anything to her on account of the children, and he did not meet her eyes; but he was sure they did not avoid his purposely, it just happened that they did not meet. and during the day there was nothing in her behaviour to suggest a consciousness in her that anything had passed between them. perhaps she was a little more talkative than usual. when they were all sitting again in the hop-field she told her mother how naughty philip had been in not coming out of the water till he was blue with cold. it was incredible, and yet it seemed that the only effect of the incident of the night before was to arouse in her a feeling of protection towards him: she had the same instinctive desire to mother him as she had with regard to her brothers and sisters.
it was not till the evening that he found himself alone with her. she was cooking the supper, and philip was sitting on the grass by the side of the fire. mrs. athelny had gone down to the village to do some shopping, and the children were scattered in various pursuits of their own. philip hesitated to speak. he was very nervous. sally attended to her business with serene competence and she accepted placidly the silence which to him was so embarrassing. he did not know how to begin. sally seldom spoke unless she was spoken to or had something particular to say. at last he could not bear it any longer.
‘you’re not angry with me, sally?’ he blurted out suddenly.
she raised her eyes quietly and looked at him without emotion.
‘me? no. why should i be?’
he was taken aback and did not reply. she took the lid off the pot, stirred the contents, and put it on again. a savoury smell spread over the air. she looked at him once more, with a quiet smile which barely separated her lips; it was more a smile of the eyes.
‘i always liked you,’ she said.
his heart gave a great thump against his ribs, and he felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. he forced a faint laugh.
‘i didn’t know that.’
‘that’s because you’re a silly.’
‘i don’t know why you liked me.’
‘i don’t either.’ she put a little more wood on the fire. ‘i knew i liked you that day you came when you’d been sleeping out and hadn’t had anything to eat, d’you remember? and me and mother, we got thorpy’s bed ready for you.’
he flushed again, for he did not know that she was aware of that incident. he remembered it himself with horror and shame.
‘that’s why i wouldn’t have anything to do with the others. you remember that young fellow mother wanted me to have? i let him come to tea because he bothered so, but i knew i’d say no.’
philip was so surprised that he found nothing to say. there was a queer feeling in his heart; he did not know what it was, unless it was happiness. sally stirred the pot once more.
‘i wish those children would make haste and come. i don’t know where they’ve got to. supper’s ready now.’
‘shall i go and see if i can find them?’ said philip.
it was a relief to talk about practical things.
‘well, it wouldn’t be a bad idea, i must say.... there’s mother coming.’
then, as he got up, she looked at him without embarrassment.
‘shall i come for a walk with you tonight when i’ve put the children to bed?’
‘yes.’
‘well, you wait for me down by the stile, and i’ll come when i’m ready.’
he waited under the stars, sitting on the stile, and the hedges with their ripening blackberries were high on each side of him. from the earth rose rich scents of the night, and the air was soft and still. his heart was beating madly. he could not understand anything of what happened to him. he associated passion with cries and tears and vehemence, and there was nothing of this in sally; but he did not know what else but passion could have caused her to give herself. but passion for him? he would not have been surprised if she had fallen to her cousin, peter gann, tall, spare, and straight, with his sunburned face and long, easy stride. philip wondered what she saw in him. he did not know if she loved him as he reckoned love. and yet? he was convinced of her purity. he had a vague inkling that many things had combined, things that she felt though was unconscious of, the intoxication of the air and the hops and the night, the healthy instincts of the natural woman, a tenderness that overflowed, and an affection that had in it something maternal and something sisterly; and she gave all she had to give because her heart was full of charity.
he heard a step on the road, and a figure came out of the darkness.
‘sally,’ he murmured.
she stopped and came to the stile, and with her came sweet, clean odours of the country-side. she seemed to carry with her scents of the new-mown hay, and the savour of ripe hops, and the freshness of young grass. her lips were soft and full against his, and her lovely, strong body was firm within his arms.
‘milk and honey,’ he said. ‘you’re like milk and honey.’
he made her close her eyes and kissed her eyelids, first one and then the other. her arm, strong and muscular, was bare to the elbow; he passed his hand over it and wondered at its beauty; it gleamed in the darkness; she had the skin that rubens painted, astonishingly fair and transparent, and on one side were little golden hairs. it was the arm of a saxon goddess; but no immortal had that exquisite, homely naturalness; and philip thought of a cottage garden with the dear flowers which bloom in all men’s hearts, of the hollyhock and the red and white rose which is called york and lancaster, and of love—in-a-mist and sweet william, and honeysuckle, larkspur, and london pride.
‘how can you care for me?’ he said. ‘i’m insignificant and crippled and ordinary and ugly.’
she took his face in both her hands and kissed his lips.
‘you’re an old silly, that’s what you are,’ she said.
