CHAPTER ONE
關燈
小
中
大
ndowshook,andRebeccastolelikeacatandwedgedit.
Thetwowomenmurmuredoverthespirit-lamp,plottingtheeternalconspiracyofhushandcleanbottleswhilethewindragedandgaveasuddenwrenchatthecheapfastenings.
Bothlookedroundatthecot.Theirlipswerepursed.Mrs.Flanderscrossedovertothecot.
"Asleep?"whisperedRebecca,lookingatthecot.
Mrs.Flandersnodded.
"Good-night,Rebecca,"Mrs.Flandersmurmured,andRebeccacalledherma'm,thoughtheywereconspiratorsplottingtheeternalconspiracyofhushandcleanbottles.
Mrs.Flandershadleftthelampburninginthefrontroom.Therewereherspectacles,hersewingandaletterwiththeScarboroughpostmark.Shehadnotdrawnthecurtainseither.
Thelightblazedoutacrossthepatchofgrassfellonthechild'sgreenbucketwiththegoldlineroundit,andupontheasterwhichtrembledviolentlybesideit.Forthewindwastearingacrossthecoast,hurlingitselfatthehills,andleaping,insuddengusts,ontopofitsownback.Howitspreadoverthetowninthehollow!Howthelightsseemedtowinkandquiverinitsfury,lightsintheharbour,lightsinbedroomwindowshighup!Androllingdarkwavesbeforeit,itracedovertheAtlantic,jerkingthestarsabovetheshipsthiswayandthat.
Therewasaclickinthefrontsitting-room.Mr.Pearcehadextinguishedthelamp.Thegardenwentout.Itwasbutadarkpatch.Everyinchwasrainedupon.Everybladeofgrasswasbentbyrain.Eyelidswouldhavebeenfasteneddownbytherain.Lyingonone'sbackonewouldhaveseennothingbutmuddleandconfusion—cloudsturningandturning,andsomethingyellow-tintedandsulphurousinthedarkness.
Thelittleboysinthefrontbedroomhadthrownofftheirblanketsandlayunderthesheets.Itwashotratherstickyandsteamy.Archerlayspreadout,withonearmstrikingacrossthepillow.Hewasflushedandwhentheheavycurtainblewoutalittleheturnedandhalf-openedhiseyes.Thewindactuallystirredtheclothonthechestofdrawers,andletinalittlelight,sothatthesharpedgeofthechestofdrawerswasvisible,runningstraightup,untilawhiteshapebulgedoutandasilverstreakshowedinthelooking-glass.
IntheotherbedbythedoorJacoblayasleep,fastasleep,profoundlyunconscious.Thesheep'sjawwiththebigyellowteethinitlayathisfeet.Hehadkickeditagainsttheironbed-rail.
Outsidetherainpoureddownmoredirectlyandpowerfullyasthewindfellintheearlyhoursofthemorning.Theasterwasbeatentotheearth.Thechild'sbucketwashalf-fullofrainwaterandtheopal-shelledcrabslowlycircledroundthebottom,tryingwithitsweaklylegstoclimbthesteepsidetryingagainandfallingback,andtryingagainandagain.
