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！
nown； are far better judges both of identity and character than we are。 Moreover； said Mrs Grimsditch； over her dish of china tea； to Mr Dupper that night； if her Lord was a Lady now； she had never seen a lovelier one； nor was there a penny piece to choose between them； one was as well–favoured as the other； they were as like as two peaches on one branch； which； said Mrs Grimsditch； being confidential； she had always had her suspicions （here she nodded her head very mysteriously）； which it was no surprise to her （here she nodded her head very knowingly）； and for her part； a very great fort； for what with the towels wanting mending and the curtains in the chaplain’s parlour being moth–eaten round the fringes； it was time they had a Mistress among them。
‘And some little masters and mistresses to e after her；’ Mr Dupper added； being privileged by virtue of his holy office to speak his mind on such delicate matters as these。
So； while the old servants gossiped in the servants’ hall； Orlando took a silver candle in her hand and roamed once more through the halls； the galleries； the courts； the bedrooms； saw loom down at her again the dark visage of this Lord Keeper； that Lord Chamberlain； among her ancestors； sat now in this chair of state； now reclined on that canopy of delight； observed the arras； how it swayed； watched the huntsmen riding and Daphne flying； bathed her hand； as she had loved to do as a child； in the yellow pool of light which the moonlight made falling through the heraldic Leopard in the window； slid along the polished planks of the gallery； the other side of which was rough timber； touched this silk； that satin； fancied the carved dolphins swam； brushed her hair with King James’ silver brush； buried her face in the potpourri； which was made as the Conqueror had taught them many hundred years ago and from the same roses； looked at the garden and imagined the sleeping crocuses； the dormant dahlias； saw the frail nymphs gleaming white in the snow and the great yew hedges； thick as a house； black behind them； saw the orangeries and the giant medlars；—all this she saw； and each sight and sound； rudely as we write it down； filled her heart with such a lust and balm of joy； that at length； tired out； she entered the Chapel and sank into the old red arm–chair in which her ancestors used to hear service。 There she lit a cheroot （’twas a habit she had brought back from the East） and opened the Prayer Book。
It was a little book bound in velvet； stitched with gold； which had been held by Mary Queen of Scots on the scaffold； and the eye of faith could detect a brownish stain； said to be made of a drop of the Royal blood。 But what pious thoughts it roused in Orlando； what evil passions it soothed asleep； who dare say； seeing that of all munions this with the deity is the most inscrutable？ Novelist； poet； historian all falter with their hand on that door； nor does the believer himself enlighten us； for is he more ready to die than other people； or more eager to share his goods？ Does he not keep as many maids and carriage horses as the rest？ and yet with it all； holds a faith he says which should make goods a vanity and death desirable。 In the Queen’s prayerbook； along with the blood–stain； was also a lock of hair and a crumb of pastry； Orlando now added to these keepsakes a flake of tobacco； and so； reading and smoking； was moved by the humane jumble of them all—the hair； the pastry； the blood–stain； the tobacco—to such a mood of contemplation as gave her a reverent air suitable in the circumstances； though she had； it is said； no traffic with the usual God。 Nothing； however； can be more arrogant； though nothing is moner than to assume that of Gods there is only one； and of religions none but the speaker’s。 Orlando； it seemed； had a faith of her own。 With all the religious ardour in the world； she now reflected upon her sins and the imperfections that had crept into her spiritual state。 The letter S； she reflected； is the serpent in the poet’s Eden。 Do what she would there were still too many of these sinful reptiles in the first stanzas of ‘The Oak Tree’。 But ‘S’ was nothing； in her opinion； pared with the termination ‘ing’。 The present participle is the Devil himself； she thought； now that we are in the place for believing in Devils。 To evade such temptations is the first duty of the poet； she concluded； for as the ear is the antechamber to the soul； poetry can adulterate and destroy more surely than lust or gunpowder。 The poet’s； then； is the highest office of all； she continued。 His words reach where others fall short。 A silly song of Shakespeare’s has done more for the poor and the wicked than all the preachers and philanthropists in the world。 No time； no devotion； can be too great； therefore； which makes the vehicle of our message less distorting。 We must shape our words till they are the thinnest integument for our thoughts。 Thoughts are divine； etc。 Thus it is obvious that she was back in the confines of her own religion which time had only strengthened in her absence； and was rapidly acquiring the intolerance of belief。
‘I am growing up；’ she thought； taking her taper at last。 ‘I am losing some illusions；’ she said； shutting Queen Mary’s book； ‘perhaps to acquire others；’ and she descended among the tombs where the bones of her ancestors lay。
But even the bones of her ancestors； Sir Miles； Sir Gervase； and the rest； had lost something of their sanctity since Rustum el Sadi had waved his hand that night in the Asian mountains。 Somehow the fact that only three or four hundred years ago these skeletons had been men with their way to make in the world like any modern upstart； and that they had made it by acquiring houses and offices； garters and ribbands； as any other upstart does； while poets； perhaps； and men of great mind and breeding had preferred the quietude of the country； for which choice they paid the penalty by extreme poverty； and now hawked broadsheets in the Strand； or herded sheep in the fields； filled her with remorse。 She thought of the Egyptian pyramids and what bones lie beneath them as she stood in the crypt； and the vast； empty hills which lie above the S