CHAPTER XL
關燈
小
中
大
er?NodoubtHenrywouldpardonheroutburst,andgoonblusteringandmuddlingintoaripeoldage.Butwhatwasthegood?Shehadjustassoonvanishfromhismind.
“Areyouseriousinaskingme,Helen?ShouldIgetonwithyourMonica?”
“Youwouldnot,butIamseriousinaskingyou.”
“Still,nomoreplansnow.Andnomorereminiscences.”
Theyweresilentforalittle.ItwasHelen’sevening.
Thepresentflowedbythemlikeastream.Thetreerustled.Ithadmademusicbeforetheywereborn,andwouldcontinueaftertheirdeaths,butitssongwasofthemoment.Themomenthadpassed.Thetreerustledagain.Theirsensesweresharpened,andtheyseemedtoapprehendlife.Lifepassed.Thetreerustledagain.
“Sleepnow,”saidMargaret.
Thepeaceofthecountrywasenteringintoher.Ithasnocommercewithmemory,andlittlewithhope.Leastofallisitconcernedwiththehopesofthenextfiveminutes.Itisthepeaceofthepresent,whichpassesunderstanding.Itsmurmurcame“now,”and“now”oncemoreastheytrodthegravel,and“now,”asthemoonlightfellupontheirfather’ssword.Theypassedupstairs,kissed,andamidsttheendlessiterationsfellasleep.Thehousehadenshadowedthetreeatfirst,butasthemoonrosehigherthetwodisentangled,andwereclearforafewmomentsatmidnight.Margaretawokeandlookedintothegarden.HowincomprehensiblethatLeonardBastshouldhavewonherthisnightofpeace!WashealsopartofMrs.Wilcox’smind?
