cw.imarriedadeadman-第13部分

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mo'　minutes。〃
　And　the　laughingly　protesting　admonition　that　followed；　miraculously　audible　as　well：　〃Sh；　Aunt　Josie。　We　have　a　baby　in　the　house　now；　he　may　be　napping。〃
　Someone　was　ing　up　the　stairs　now。　They　were　ing　up　the　stairs　now　to　tell　her。　She　shrank　back　a　little　in　the　chair。　Now　she　was　a　little　frightened；　a　little　nervous　again。　Now　there　would　be　no　quick　escape　from　the　moment's　confrontation；　as　at　the　railroad　station。　Now　came　the　real　meeting；　the　real　blending；　the　real　taking　into　the　fold。　Now　was　the　real　test。
　〃Patrice　dear；　supper's　ready　whenever　you　are。〃
　You　take　supper　in　the　evening；　when　you're　home；　in　your　own　home。　When　you　go　out　in　public　or　to　someone　else's　home；　you　may　take　dinner。　But　in　the　evening；　in　your　own　home；　it's　supper　you　take；　and　never　anything　else。　Her　heart　was　as　fiercely　glad　as　though　the　trifling　word　were　a　talisman。　She　remembered　when　she　was　a　little　girl；　those　few　brief　years　that　had　ended　so　quickly…　The　call　to　supper；　only　supper；　never　anything　else。
　She　jumped　from　the　chair　and　ran　over　and　opened　the　door。　〃Shall　I…shall　I　bring　him　down　with　me；　or　leave　him　up　here　in　the　crib　till　I　e　back？〃　she　asked；　half…eagerly；　half…uncertainly。　〃I　fed　him　already　at　five；　you　know。〃
　Mother　Hazzard　slanted　her　head　coaxingly。　〃Ah；　why　don't　you　bring　him　down　with　you　just　tonight；　anyway？　It's　the　first　night。　Don't　hurry；　dear；　take　your　time。〃
　When　she　came　out　of　the　room　holding　him　in　her　arms　moments　later；　she　stopped　a　moment；　fingered　the　edge　of　the　door　lingeringly。　Not　where　the　knob　was；　but　up　and　down　the　unbroken　surface　where　there　was　no　knob。
　Watch　over　my　room　for　me；　she　breathed　unheard。　I'm　ing　right　back。　Take　care　of　it。　Don't　let　anyone…Will　you？
　She　would　e　down　these　same　stairs　many　hundreds　of　times　to　e；　she　knew；　as　she　started　down　them　now。　She　would　e　down　them　fast；　she　would　e　down　them　slowly。　She　would　e　down　them　blithely；　in　gayety。　And　perhaps　she　might　e　down　them　in　fear；　in　trouble。　But　now；　tonight；　this　was　the　very　first　time　of　all　that　she　was　ing　down　them。
　She　held　him　close　to　her　and　felt　her　way；　for　they　were　new　to　her；　she　hadn't　got　the　measure　of　them；　the　feel　of　them；　yet；　and　she　didn't　want　to　miss　her　step。
　They　were　standing　about　in　the　dining…room　waiting　for　her。　Not　rigidly；　formally；　like　drill…sergeants；　but　in　unselfconscious　ease；　as　if　unaware　of　the　small　tribute　of　consideration　they　were　giving　her。　Mother　Hazzard　was　leaning　forward；　giving　a　last…minute　touch　to　the　table；　shifting　something　a　little。　Father　Hazzard　was　looking　up　toward　the　lights　through　the　spectacles　with　which　he'd　just　been　reading；　and　polishing　them　off　before　returning　them　to　their　case。　And　there　was　a　third　person　in　the　room；　somebody　with　his　back　half　to　her　at　the　moment　of　entrance；　surreptitiously　pilfering　a　salted　peanut　from　a　dish　on　the　buffet。
　He　turned　forward　again　and　threw　it　away　when　he　heard　her　e　in。　He　was　young　and　tall　and　friendly…looking；　and　his　hair　was…　A　camera…shutter　clicked　in　her　mind　and　the　film　rolled　on。
　〃There's　the　young　man！〃　Mother　Hazzard　revelled。　〃There's　the　young　man　himself！　Here；　give　him　to　me。　You　know　who　this　is；　of　course。〃　And　then　she　added；　as　though　it　were　wholly　unnecessary　even　to　qualify　it　by　so　much；　〃Bill。〃
　But　who…？　she　wondered。　They　hadn't　said　anything　until　now。
　He　came　forward；　and　she　didn't　know　what　to　do；　he　was　so　close　to　her　own　age。　She　half…offered　her　hand；　hoping　that　if　it　was　too　formal　the　gesture　would　remain　unnoticed。
　He　took　it；　but　he　didn't　shake　it。　Instead　he　pressed　it　between　both　of　his；　held　it　warmly　buried　like　that　for　a　moment　or　two。
　〃Wele　home；　Patrice；〃　he　said　quietly。　And　there　was　something　about　the　straight；　unwavering　look　in　his　eyes　as　he　said　it　that　made　her　think　she'd　never　heard　anything　said　so　sincerely；　so　simply；　so　loyally；　before。
　And　that　was　all。　Mother　Hazzard　said；　〃You　sit　here；　from　now　on。〃
　Father　Hazzard　said　unassumingly；　〃We're　very　happy；　Patrice；〃　and　sat　down　at　the　head　of　the　table。
　Whoever　Bill　was；　he　sat　down　opposite　her。
　The　colored　housekeeper　peeked　through　the　door　for　a　minute　and　beamed。　〃Now　this　look　right！　This　what　that　table　been　needing。　This　just　finish　off　that　empty　si…〃
　Then　she　quickly　checked　herself；　clapping　a　catastrophic　hand　to　her　mouth；　and　whisked　from　sight　again。
　Mother　Hazzard　glanced　down　at　her　plate　for　a　second；　then　immediately　looked　up　again　smiling；　and　the　hurt　was　gone；　had　not　been　allowed　to　linger。
　They　didn't　say　anything　memorable。　You　don't　say　anything　memorable　across　the　tables　of　home。　Your　heart　speaks；　and　not　your　brain；　to　the　other　hearts　around　you。　She　forgot　after　awhile　to　notice　what　she　was　saying；　to　weigh；　to　reckon　it　That's　what　home　is；　what　home　should　be。　It　flowed　from　her　as　easily　as　it　did　from　them。　She　knew　that　was　what　they　were　trying　to　do　for　her。　And　they　were　succeeding。　Strangeness　was　already　gone　with　the　soup；　never　to　return。　Nothing　could　ever　bring　it　back　again。　Other　things　could　e…she　hoped　they　wouldn't　But　never　strangeness；　the　unease　of　unfamiliarity；　again。　They　had　succeeded。
　〃I　hope　you　don't　mind　the　white　collar　on　that　dress；　Patrice。　I　purposely　saw　to　it　there　was　a　touch　of　color　on　everything　I　picked　out；　I　didn't　want　you　to　be　too…〃
　〃Oh；　some　of　those　things　are　so　lovely。　I　really　hadn't　seen　half　of　them　myself　until　I　unpacked　just　now。〃
　〃The　only　thing　that　I　was　afraid　of　was　the　sizes；　but　that　nurse　of　yours　sent　me　a　plete…〃
　〃She　took　a　tape…measure　all　over　me　one　day；　I　remember　that　now；　but　she　wouldn't　tell　me　what　it　was　for…〃
　〃Which　kind　for　you；　Patrice？　Light　or　dark？〃
　〃It　really　doesn't…〃
　〃No；　tell　him　just　this　once；　dear；　then　after　that　he　won't　have　to　ask　you。〃
　〃Dark；　then；　I　guess。〃
　〃You　and　me　both。〃
　He　spoke　a　little　less　frequently　than　the　remaining　three　of　them。　Just　a　touch　of　shyness；　she　sensed。　Not　that　he　was　strained　or　tonguetied　or　anything。　Perhaps　it　was　just　his　way；　he　had　a　quiet；　unobtrusive　way。
　The　thing　was；　who　exactly　was　he？　She　couldn't　ask　outright　now　any　longer。　She'd　omitted　to　at　the　first　moment；　and　now　it　was　twenty　minutes　too　late　for　that。　No　last　name　had　been　given；　so　he　must　be…
　I'll　find　out　soon；　she　reassured　herself。　I'm　bound　to。　She　was　no　longer　afraid。
　Once　she　found　he'd　just　been　looking　at　her　when　her　eyes　went　to　him；　and　she　wondered　what　he'd　been　thinking　while　doing　so。　And　yet　not　to　have　admitted　that　she　knew；　that　she　could　tell　by　the　lingering　traces　of　his　expression；　would　have　been　to　lie　to　herself。　He'd　been　thinking　that　her　face　was　pleasant；　that　he　liked　it。
　And　then　after　a　little　while　he　said；　〃Dad；　pass　the　bread　over　this　way；　will　you？〃
　And　then　she　knew　who　he　was。
　
　
　16
　
　Episcopal　Church　of　St。　Bartholomew；　social　kingpin　among　all　the　churches　of　Caulfield；　on　a　golden　April　Sunday　morning。
　She　stood　there　by　the　font；　child　in　her　arms；　immediate　family　and　their　close　friends　gathered　beside　her。
　They　had　insisted　upon　this。　She　hadn't　wanted　it　Twice　she　had　postponed　it；　for　two　Sundays　in　succession　now；　after　all　the　arrangements　had　been　made。　First；　by　pleading　a　cold　that　she　did　not　really　have。　Secondly；　by　pleading　a　slight　one　that　the　child　actually　did　have。　Today　she　hadn't　been　able　to　postpone　it　any　longer。　They　would　have　finally　sensed　the　deliberation　underlying　her　excuses。
　She　kept　her　head　down；　hearing　the　ceremony　rather　than　seeing　it。　As　though　afraid　to　look　on　openly　at　it　As　though　afraid　of　being　struck　down　momentarily　at　the　feet　of　all　of　them　for　her　blasphemy。
　She　had　on　a　broad…brimmed　hat　of　semi…transparent　horsehair　and　that　helped　her；　veiling　her　eyes　and　the　upper　part　of　her　face　when　she　cast　it　down　like　that。
　Mournful　memories；　they　probably　thought　Grief…stricken。
　Guilty；　in　reality。　Scandalized。　Not　brazen　enough　to　gaze　at　this　mockery　unabashed。
　Arms　reached　out　toward　her；　to　take　the　child　from　her。　The　godmother's　arms。　She　gave　him　over；　trailing　the　long