The Thirteenth Tale-第60章

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keeping　an　eye　on　adeline。　and　she　wasn’t　only　listening。　i　caught　a　quiver　of　her　lids。　i　had　thought　her　eyes　closed；　but　not　at　all—from　between　her　lashes；　she　was　watching　me！

it　is　a　most　interesting　development；　and　one　that　i　foresee　will　be　the　centerpin　of　my　project　here。

then　the　most　unexpected　thing　happened。　the　doctor’s　face　changed。　yes；　hanged；　before　my　very　eyes。　it　was　one　of　those　moments　when　a　face　es　suddenly　into　new　focus；　when　the　features；　all　recognizably　as　they　were　before；　are　prone　to　a　dizzying　shift　and　present　themselves　in　an　unexpected　new　light。　i　would　like　to　know　what　it　is　in　a　human　mind　that　causes　the　faces　of　those　we　know　to　shift　and　dance　about　like　that。　i　have　ruled　out　optical　effects；　phenomena　related　to　light　and　so　on；　and　have　arrived　at　the　conclusion　that　the　explanation　is　rooted　in　the　psychology　of　the　onlooker。　anyway；　the　sudden　movement　and　rearrangement　of　his　facial　features　caused　me　to　stare　at　him　for　a　few　moments；　which　must　have　seemed　very　strange　to　him。　when　his　features　had　ceased　their　jumping　about；　there　was　something　odd　in　his　expression；　too；　something　i　could　not；　cannot　fathom。　i　do　dislike　what　i　cannot　fathom。

we　stared　at　each　other　for　a　few　seconds；　each　as　awkward　as　the　other；　then　rather　abruptly　he　left。

i　wish　mrs。　dunne　would　not　move　my　books　about。　how　many　times　shall　i　have　to　tell　her　that　a　book　is　not　finished　until　it　is　finished？　and　if　she　must　move　it；　why　not　put　it　back　in　the　library　whence　it　came？　what　is　the　point　of　leaving　it　on　the　staircase？

i　have　had　a　curious　conversation　with　john　the　gardener。

he　is　a　good　worker；　more　cheerful　now　that　his　topiary　is　mending；　and　a　helpful　presence　generally　in　the　house。　he　drinks　tea　and　chats　in　the　kitchen　with　mrs。　dunne；　sometimes　i　e　across　them　talking　in　low　voices；　which　makes　me　think　she　is　not　as　deaf　as　she　makes　out。　were　it　not　for　her　great　age　i　would　imagine　some　love　affair　going　on；　but　since　that　is　out　of　the　question　i　am　at　a　loss　to　explain　what　their　secret　is。　i　taxed　mrs。　dunne　with　it；　unhappily；　because　she　and　i　have　a　friendly　understanding　about　things　for　the　most　part；　i　think　she　approves　of　my　presence　here—not　that　it　would　make　any　difference　if　she　didn’t—and　she　told　me　that　they　talk　of　nothing　but　household　matters；　chickens　to　be　killed；　potatoes　to　be　dug　and　the　like。　“why　talk　so　low？”　i　insisted；　and　she　told　me　it　was　not　low　at　all；　at　least　not　particularly　so。　“but　you　don’t　hear　me　when　i　talk　low；　”　i　said；　and　she　answered　that　new　voices　are　harder　than　the　ones　she　is　used　to；　and　if　she　understands　john　when　he　talks　low　it　is　because　she　has　known　his　voice　for　many　years　and　mine　for　only　a　couple　of　months。

i　had　forgotten　all　about　the　low　voices　in　the　kitchen；　until　this　new　odd…ness　with　john。　a　few　mornings　ago　i　was　taking　a　walk　just　before　lunch　in　the　garden　when　i　saw　again　the　boy　who　was　weeding　the　flower　bed　beneath　the　schoolroom　window。　i　glanced　at　my　watch；　and　again　it　was　in　school　hours。　the　boy　did　not　see　me；　for　i　was　hidden　by　the　trees。　i　watched　him　for　a　moment　or　two；　he　was　not　working　at　all　but　sprawled　across　the　lawn；　engrossed　in　something　on　the　grass；　right　under　his　nose。　he　wore　the　same　floppy　hat　as　before。　i　stepped　toward　him　meaning　to　get　his　name　and　give　him　a　lecture　on　the　importance　of　education；　but　on　seeing　me　he　leaped　to　his　feet；　clamped　his　hat　to　his　head　with　one　hand　and　sprinted　away　faster　than　i　have　seen　anyone　move　before。　his　alarm　is　proof　enough　of　his　guilt。　the　boy　knew　perfectly　well　he　should　be　at　school。　as　he　ran　off　he　appeared　to　have　a　book　in　his　hand。

i　went　to　john　and　told　him　just　what　i　thought。　i　told　him　i　would　not　allow　children　to　work　for　him　in　school　hours；　that　it　was　wrong　to　upset　their　education　just　for　the　few　pence　they　earn；　and　that　if　the　parents　did　not　accept　that；　i　would　go　and　see　them　myself。　i　told　him　if　it　was　so　necessary　to　have　further　hands　working　on　the　garden　that　i　would　see　mr。　angelfield　and　employ　a　man。　i　had　already　made　this　offer　to　get　extra　staff；　both　for　the　garden　and　the　house；　but　john　and　mrs。　dunne　were　both　so　against　the　idea　i　thought　it　better　to　wait　until　i　was　more　acquainted　with　the　running　of　things　here。

john’s　response　was　to　shake　his　head　and　deny　all　knowledge　of　the　child。　when　i　impressed　upon　him　the　evidence　of　my　own　eyes；　he　said　it　must　be　a　village　child　just　e　wandering　in；　that　it　happened　sometimes；　that　he　was　not　responsible　for　all　the　village　truants　who　happened　to　be　in　the　garden。　i　told　him　then　that　i　had　seen　the　child　before；　the　day　i　arrived；　and　that　the　child　was　clearly　working。　he　was　tight…lipped；　only　repeated　that　he　had　no　knowledge　of　a　child；　that　anyone　could　weed　his　garden　who　wanted　to；　that　there　was　no　such　child。

i　told　john；　with　a　little　anger　that　i　cannot　regret；　that　i　intended　to　speak　to　the　schoolmistress　about　it；　and　that　i　would　go　directly　to　the　parents　and　sort　the　matter　out　with　them。　he　simply　waved　his　hand；　as　if　to　say　it　was　nothing　to　do　with　him　and　i　might　do　as　i　liked　（and　i　certainly　shall）。　i　am　sure　he　knows　who　the　boy　is；　and　i　am　shocked　at　his　refusal　to　help　me　in　my　duty　toward　him。　it　seems　out　of　character　for　him　to　be　obstructive；　but　then　i　suppose　he　began　his　own　apprenticeship　as　a　child　and　thought　it　never　did　him　any　harm。　these　attitudes　are　slow　to　die　out　in　rural　areas。

i　was　engrossed　in　the　diary。　the　barriers　to　legibility　forced　me　to　read　slowly；　puzzling　out　the　difficulties；　using　all　my　experience；　knowledge　and　imagination　to　flesh　out　the　ghost　words；　yet　the　obstacles　seemed　not　to　impede　me。　on　the　contrary；　the　faded　margins；　the　eligibilities；　the　blurred　words　seemed　to　pulse　with　meaning；　vividly　alive。

while　i　was　reading　in　this　absorbed　fashion；　in　another　part　of　my　mind　entirely　a　decision　was　forming。　when　the　train　drew　in　at　the　station　where　i　was　to　descend　for　my　connection；　i　found　my　mind　made　up。　i　was　not　going　home　after　all。　i　was　going　to　angelfield。

the　local　line　train　to　banbury　was　too　crowded　with　christmas　travelers　to　sit；　and　i　never　read　standing　up。　with　every　jolt　of　the　train；　every　jostle　and　stumble　of　my　fellow　passengers；　i　felt　the　rectangle　of　hester’s　diary　against　my　chest。　i　had　read　only　half　of　it。　the　rest　could　wait。

what　happened　to　you；　hester；　i　thought。　where　on　earth　did　you　go？

．co



DEMOLISHING　THE　PAST

？小｜说网
the　windows　showed　me　his　kitchen　was　empty；　and　when　i　walked　back　to　the　front　of　the　cottage　and　knocked　on　the　door；　there　‘as　no　answer。

might　he　have　gone　away？　it　was　a　time　of　year　when　people　did　go　away。　but　they　went　to　their　families；　surely；　and　so　aurelius；　having　no　family；　would　stay　here。　belatedly　the　reason　for　aurelius’s　absence　occurred　to　me：　he　would　be　out　delivering　cakes　for　christmas　parties。　where　else　would　a　caterer　be；　just　before　christmas？　i　would　have　to　e　back　later。　i　put　the　card　i　had　bought　through　the　mail　slot　and　set　off　through　the　woods　toward　angelfield　house。

it　was　cold；　cold　enough　for　snow。　beneath　my　feet　the　ground　was　frost…hard　and　above　the　sky　was　dangerously　white。　i　walked　briskly。　with　my　scarf　wrapped　around　my　face　as　high　as　my　nose；　i　soon　warmed　up。

at　the　clearing；　i　stopped。　in　the　distance；　at　the　site；　there　was　unusual　activity。　i　frowned。　what　was　going　on？　my　camera　was　around　neck；　beneath　my　coat；　the　cold　crept　in　as　i　undid　my　buttons。　using　my　long　lens；　i　watched。　there　was　a　police　car　on　the　drive；　builders’　vehicles　and　machinery　were　all　stationary；　and　the　builders　were　standing　in　a　loose　cluster。　they　must　have　stopped　working　a　little　while　ago；　for　they　were　slapping　their　hands　together　and　stamping　their　feet　to　keep　warm。　their　hats　were　on　the　ground　or　else　slung　by　the　strap　from　their　elbows。　one　man　offered　a　pack　of　cigarettes。　from　time　to　time　one　of　them　addressed　a　ment　to　the　others；　but　there　was　no　conversation。　i　tried　to　make　out　the　expression　on　their　unsmiling　faces。　bored？　worried？　curious？　they　stood　turned　away　from　the　site；　facing　the　woods　and　my　lens；　but　from　time　to　time　one　or　another　cast　a　glance　over　his　shoulder　to　the　scene　behind　them。

behind　the　group　of　men；　a　white　tent　had　been　erected　to　cover　part　of　the　site。　the　house　was　gone；　but　judging　from　the　coach　house；　the　gravel　approach；　the　church；　i　guessed　the　tent　was　where　the　library　had　been。　beside　it；　one　of　their　colleagues　and　a　man　i　took　to　be　their　boss　were　in　conversation　with　another　pair　of　men。　these　were　dressed　one　in　a　suit　and　overcoat；　the　other　in　a　police　uniform。　it　was　the　boss　who　was　speaking；　rapidly　and　with　explanatory　nods　and　shakes　of　the　head；　but　when　the　man　in　the　overcoat　asked　a　question；　it　was　the　builder　he　addressed　it　to；　and　when　he　answered；　all　three　men　watched　him　intently。

he　seemed　unaware　of　the　cold。　he　spoke　in　short　sentences；　in　his　long　and　frequent　pauses　the　others　did　not　speak；　but　watched　him　with　intense　patience。　at　one　point　he　raised　a　finger　in　the　direction　of　the　machine　and　mimed　its　j