the story of an african farm-第80部分

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have　given　me　a　little　money；　a　little　help；　a　little　power　of　gaining

knowledge。　　But　now；　I　have　gone　so　far　alone　I　may　go　on　to　the　end。　　I

don't　want　it；　little　one。〃



She　did　not　seem　pained　at　his　refusal；　but　swung　her　foot　to　and　fro；　the

little　old　wrinkled　forehead　more　wrinkled　up　than　ever。



〃Why　is　it　always　so；　Waldo；　always　so？〃　she　said；　〃we　long　for　things；　and

long　for　them；　and　pray　for　them；　we　would　give　all　we　have　to　come　near　to

them；　but　we　never　reach　them。　　Then　at　last；　too　late；　just　when　we　don't

want　them　any　more；　when　all　the　sweetness　is　taken　out　of　them；　then　they

come。　　We　don't　want　them　then；〃　she　said；　folding　their　hands　resignedly

on　her　little　apron。　　After　a　while　she　added：　　〃I　remember　once；　very　long

ago；　when　I　was　a　very　little　girl；　my　mother　had　a　workbox　full　of

coloured　reels。　　I　always　wanted　to　play　with　them；　but　she　would　never　let

me。　　At　last　one　day　she　said　I　might　take　the　box。　　I　was　so　glad　I　hardly

knew　what　to　do。　　I　ran　round　the　house；　and　sat　down　with　it　on　the　back

steps。　　But　when　I　opened　the　box　all　the　cottons　were　taken　out。〃



She　sat　for　a　while　longer；　till　the　Kaffer　maid　had　finished　churning；　and

was　carrying　the　butter　toward　the　house。　　Then　Em　prepared　to　slip　off　the

table；　but　first　she　laid　her　little　hand　on　Waldo's。　　He　stopped　his

planing　and　looked　up。



〃Gregory　is　going　to　the　town　tomorrow。　　He　is　going　to　give　in　our　bans　to

the　minister；　we　are　going　to　be　married　in　three　weeks。〃



Waldo　lifted　her　very　gently　from　the　table。　　He　did　not　congratulate　her；

perhaps　he　thought　of　the　empty　box；　but　he　kissed　her　forehead　gravely。



She　walked　away　toward　the　house；　but　stopped　when　she　got　half…way。　　〃I

will　bring　you　a　glass　of　buttermilk　when　it　is　cool；〃　she　called　out；　and

soon　her　clear　voice　came　ringing　out　through　the　back　windows　as　she　sang

the　〃Blue　Water〃　to　herself；　and　washed　the　butter。



Waldo　did　not　wait　till　she　returned。　　Perhaps　he　had　at　last　really　grown

weary　of　work；　perhaps　he　felt　the　wagon…house　chilly　（for　he　had　shuddered

two　or　three　times）；　though　this　was　hardly　likely　in　that　warm　summer

weather；　or；　perhaps；　and　most　probably；　one　of　his　old　dreaming　fits　had

come　upon　him　suddenly。



He　put　his　tools　together；　ready　for　tomorrow；　and　walked　slowly　out。　　At

the　side　of　the　wagon…house　there　was　a　world　of　bright　sunshine；　and　a　hen

with　her　chickens　was　scratching　among　the　gravel。　　Waldo　seated　himself

near　them　with　his　back　against　the　red…brick　wall。　　The　long　afternoon　was

half　spent；　and　the　kopje　was　just　beginning　to　cast　its　shadow　over　the

round…headed　yellow　flowers　that　grew　between　it　and　the　farmhouse。　　Among

the　flowers　the　white　butterflies　hovered　and　on　the　old　kraal　mounds　three

white　kids　gambolled；　and　at　the　door　of　one　of　the　huts　an　old　grey…headed

Kaffer…woman　sat　on　the　ground　mending　her　mats。　　A　balmy；　restful

peacefulness　seemed　to　reign　everywhere。　　Even　the　old　hen　seemed　well

satisfied。　　She　scratched　among　the　stones　and　called　to　her　chickens　when

she　found　a　treasure；　and　all　the　while　tucked　to　herself　with　intense

inward　satisfaction。



Waldo；　as　he　sat　with　his　knees　drawn　up　to　his　chin　and　his　arms　folded　on

them；　looked　at　it　all　and　smiled。　　An　evil　world；　a　deceitful；

treacherous；　mirage…like　world　it　might　be；　but　a　lovely　world　for　all

that；　and　to　sit　there　gloating　in　the　sunlight　was　perfect。　　It　was　worth

having　been　a　little　child；　and　having　cried　and　prayed　so　one　might　sit

there。　　He　moved　his　hands　as　though　he　were　washing　them　in　the　sunshine。　

There　will　always　be　something　worth　living　for　while　there　are　shimmery

afternoons。　　Waldo　chuckled　with　intense　inward　satisfaction　as　the　old　hen

had　doneshe；　over　the　insects　and　the　warmth；　he；　over　the　old　brick

walls；　and　the　haze；　and　the　little　bushes。　　Beauty　is　God's　wine；　with

which　He　recompenses　the　souls　that　love　Him；　He　makes　them　drunk。



The　fellow　looked；　and　at　last　stretched　out　one　hand　to　a　little　ice…plant

that　grew　on　the　sod　wall　of　the　sty；　not　as　though　he　would　have　picked

it；　but　as　it　were　in　a　friendly　greeting。　　He　loved　it。　　One　little　leaf

of　the　ice…plant　stood　upright；　and　the　sun　shone　through　it。　　He　could　see

every　little　crystal　cell　like　a　drop　of　ice　in　the　transparent　green；　and

it　thrilled　him。



There　are　only　rare　times　when　a　man's　soul　can　see　Nature。



So　long　as　any　passion　holds　its　revel　there；　the　eyes　are　holden　that　they

should　not　see　her。



Go　out　if　you　will　and　walk　alone　on　the　hillside　in　the　evening；　but　if

your　favourite　child　lies　ill　at　home；　or　your　lover　comes　tomorrow；　or　at

your　heart　there　lies　a　scheme　for　the　holding　of　wealth；　then　you　will

return　as　you　went　out；　you　will　have　seen　nothing。　　For　Nature；　ever；　like

the　Old　Hebrew　God；　cries　out；　〃Thou　shalt　have　no　other　gods　before　me。〃　

Only　then；　when　there　comes　a　pause；　a　blank　in　your　life；　when　the　old

idol　is　broken；　when　the　old　hope　is　dead；　when　the　old　desire　is　crushed；

then　the　Divine　compensation　of　Nature　is　made　manifest。　　She　shows　herself

to　you。　　So　near　she　draws　you；　that　the　blood　seems　to　flow　from　her　to

you；　through　a　still　uncut　cord：　　you　feel　the　throb　of　her　life。



When　that　day　comes；　that　you　sit　down　broken；　without　one　human　creature

to　whom　you　cling；　with　your　loves　the　dead　and　the　living…dead；　when　the

very　thirst　for　knowledge　through　long…continued　thwarting　has　grown　dull；

when　in　the　present　there　is　no　craving；　and　in　the　future　no　hope；　then；

oh；　with　a　beneficent　tenderness；　Nature　infolds　you。



Then　the　large　white　snow…flakes　as　they　flutter　down；　softly；　one　by　one；

whisper　soothingly；　〃Rest；　poor　heart；　rest！〃　　It　is　as　though　our　mother

smoothed　our　hair；　and　we　are　comforted。



And　yellow…legged　bees　as　they　hum　make　a　dreamy　lyric；　and　the　light　on

the　brown　stone　wall　is　a　great　work　of　art；　and　the　glitter　through　the

leaves　makes　the　pulses　beat。



Well　to　die　then；　for；　if　you　live；　so　surely　as　the　years　come；　so　surely

as　the　spring　succeeds　the　winter；　so　surely　will　passions　arise。　　They

will　creep　back；　one　by　one；　into　the　bosom　that　has　cast　them　forth；　and

fasten　there　again；　and　peace　will　go。　　Desire；　ambition；　and　the　fierce

agonizing　flood　of　love　for　the　living　they　will　spring　again。　　Then　Nature

will　draw　down　her　veil；　with　all　your　longing　you　shall　not　be　able　to

raise　one　corner；　you　cannot　bring　back　those　peaceful　days。　　Well　to　die

then！



Sitting　there　with　his　arms　folded　on　his　knees；　and　his　hat　slouched　down

over　his　face；　Waldo　looked　out　into　the　yellow　sunshine　that　tinted　even

the　very　air　with　the　colour　of　ripe　corn；　and　was　happy。



He　was　an　uncouth　creature　with　small　learning；　and　no　prospect　in　the

future　but　that　of　making　endless　tables　and　stone　walls；　yet　it　seemed　to

him　as　he　sat　there　that　life　was　a　rare　and　very　rich　thing。　　He　rubbed

his　han