按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
I was moved to crave her pardon and come away。
〃Bin ich eine hubsche？〃 she asked a little anxiously； laying a
detaining hand upon me； and evidently not understanding a word of
what I was striving to say。
8
I find it extraordinarily difficult to recall the phases by which I
passed from my first admiration of Margaret's earnestness and
unconscious daintiness to an intimate acquaintance。 The earlier
encounters stand out clear and hard； but then the impressions become
crowded and mingle not only with each other but with all the
subsequent developments of relationship； the enormous evolutions of
interpretation and comprehension between husband and wife。 Dipping
into my memories is like dipping into a ragbag； one brings out this
memory or that； with no intimation of how they came in time or what
led to them and joined them together。 And they are all mixed up
with subsequent associations； with sympathies and discords； habits
of intercourse； surprises and disappointments and discovered
misunderstandings。 I know only that always my feelings for Margaret
were complicatel feelings； woven of many and various strands。
It is one of the curious neglected aspects of life how at the same
time and in relation to the same reality we can have in our minds
streams of thought at quite different levels。 We can be at the same
time idealising a person and seeing and criticising that person
quite coldly and clearly； and we slip unconsciously from level to
level and produce all sorts of inconsistent acts。 In a sense I had
no illusions about Margaret； in a sense my conception of Margaret
was entirely poetic illusion。 I don't think I was ever blind to
certain defects of hers； and quite as certainly they didn't seem to
matter in the slightest degree。 Her mind had a curious want of
vigour； 〃flatness〃 is the only word； she never seemed to escape from
her phrase； her way of thinking； her way of doing was indecisive；
she remained in her attitude； it did not flow out to easy；
confirmatory action。
I saw this quite clearly； and when we walked and talked together I
seemed always trying for animation in her and never finding it。 I
would state my ideas。 〃I know；〃 she would say； 〃I know。〃
I talked about myself and she listened wonderfully； but she made no
answering revelations。 I talked politics； and she remarked with her
blue eyes wide and earnest： 〃Every WORD you say seems so just。〃
I admired her appearance tremendously butI can only express it by
saying I didn't want to touch her。 Her fair hair was always
delectably done。 It flowed beautifully over her pretty small ears；
and she would tie its fair coilings with fillets of black or blue
velvet that carried pretty buckles of silver and paste。 The light；
the faint down on her brow and cheek was delightful。 And it was
clear to me that I made her happy。
My sense of her deficiencies didn't stand in the way of my falling
at last very deeply in love with her。 Her very shortcomings seemed
to offer me something。 。 。 。
She stood in my mind for goodnessand for things from which it
seemed to me my hold was slipping。
She seemed to promise a way of escape from the deepening opposition
in me between physical passions and the constructive career； the
career of wide aims and human service； upon which I had embarked。
All the time that I was seeing her as a beautiful； fragile； rather
ineffective girl； I was also seeing her just as consciously as a
shining slender figure； a radiant reconciliation； coming into my
darkling disorders of lust and impulse。 I could understand clearly
that she was incapable of the most necessary subtleties of political
thought； and yet I could contemplate praying to her and putting all
the intricate troubles of my life at her feet。
Before the reappearance of Margaret in my world at all an unwonted
disgust with the consequences and quality of my passions had arisen
in my mind。 Among other things that moment with the Lettish girl
haunted me persistently。 I would see myself again and again sitting
amidst those sluttish surroundings； collar and tie in hand； while
her heavy German words grouped themselves to a slowly apprehended
meaning。 I would feel again with a fresh stab of remorse； that this
was not a flash of adventure； this was not seeing life in any
permissible sense； but a dip into tragedy； dishonour； hideous
degradation； and the pitiless cruelty of a world as yet uncontrolled
by any ordered will。
〃Good God！〃 I put it to myself； 〃that I should finish the work those
Cossacks had begun！ I who want order and justice before everything！
There's no way out of it； no decent excuse！ If I didn't think； I
ought to have thought！〃 。 。 。
How did I get to it？〃 。 。 。 I would ransack the phases of my
development from the first shy unveiling of a hidden wonder to the
last extremity as a man will go through muddled account books to
find some disorganising error。 。 。 。
I was also involved at that timeI find it hard to place these
things in the exact order of their dates because they were so
disconnected with the regular progress of my work and lifein an
intrigue； a clumsy； sensuous； pretentious； artificially stimulated
intrigue； with a Mrs。 Larrimer； a woman living separated from her
husband。 I will not go into particulars of that episode； nor how we
quarrelled and chafed one another。 She was at once unfaithful and
jealous and full of whims about our meetings； she was careless of
our secret； and vulgarised our relationship by intolerable
interpretations； except for some glowing moments of gratification；
except for the recurrent and essentially vicious desire that drew us
back to each other again； we both fretted at a vexatious and
unexpectedly binding intimacy。 The interim was full of the quality
of work delayed； of time and energy wasted； of insecure precautions
against scandal and exposure。 Disappointment is almost inherent in
illicit love。 I had； and perhaps it was part of her recurrent
irritation also； a feeling as though one had followed something fine
and beautiful into a netinto bird lime！ These furtive scuffles；
this sneaking into shabby houses of assignation； was what we had
made out of the suggestion of pagan beauty； this was the reality of
our vision of nymphs and satyrs dancing for the joy of life amidst
incessant sunshine。 We had laid hands upon the wonder and glory of
bodily love and wasted them。 。 。 。
It was the sense of waste； of finely beautiful possibilities getting
entangled and marred for ever that oppressed me。 I had missed； I
had lost。 I did not turn from these things after the fashion of the
Baileys； as one turns from something low and embarrassing。 I felt
that these great organic forces were still to be wrought into a
harmony with my constructive passion。 I felt too that I was not
doing it。 I had not understood the forces in this struggle nor its
nature； and as I learnt I failed。 I had been started wrong； I had
gone on wrong； in a world that was muddled and confused； full of
false counsel and erratic shames and twisted temptations。 I learnt
to see it so by failures that were perhaps destroying any chance of
profit in my lessons。 Moods of clear keen industry alternated with
moods of relapse and indulgence and moods of dubiety and remorse。 I
was not going on as the Baileys thought I was going on。 There were
times when the blindness of the Baileys irritated me intensely。
Beneath the ostensible success of those years； between twenty…three
and twenty…eight； this rottenness； known to scarcely any one but
myself； grew and spread。 My sense of the probability of a collapse
intensified。 I knew indeed now； even as Willersley had prophesied
five years before； that I was entangling myself in something that
might smother all my uses in the world。 Down there among those
incommunicable difficulties； I was puzzled and blundering。 I was
losing my hold upon things； the chaotic and adventurous element in
life was spreading upward and getting the better of me； over…
mastering me and all my will to rule and make。 。 。 。 And the
strength； the drugging urgency of the passion！
Margaret shone at times in my imagination like a radiant angel in a
world of mire and disorder； in a world of cravings； hot and dull red
like scars inflamed。 。 。 。
I suppose it was because I had so great a need of such help as her
whiteness proffered； that I could ascribe impossible perfections to
her； a power of intellect； a moral power and patience to which she；
poor fellow mortal； had indeed no claim。 If only a few of us WERE
angels and freed from the tangle of effort； how easy life might be！
I wanted her so badly； so very badly； to be what I needed。 I wanted
a woman to save me。 I forced myself to see her as