第86部分(第6/7 页)

moment　since；　touch　with　his　finger！　How　he　calls　aloud　a　name；　and　drops　his　burden；　and　gazes　on　it　wildly！　He　thus　grasps　and　cries；　and　gazes；　because　he　no　longer　fears　to　waken　by　any　sound　he　can　utter—by　any　movement　he　can　make。　He　thought　his　love　slept　sweetly：　he　finds　she　is　stone　dead。

I　looked　with　timorous　joy　towards　a　stately　house：　I　saw　a　blackened　ruin。

No　need　to　cower　behind　a　gate…post；　indeed！—to　peep　up　at　chamber　lattices；　fearing　life　was　astir　behind　them！　No　need　to　listen　for　doors　opening—to　fancy　steps　on　the　pavement　or　the　gravel…walk！　The　lawn；　the　grounds　were　trodden　and　waste：　the　portal　yawned　void。　The　front　was；　as　I　had　once　seen　it　in　a　dream；　but　a　well…　like　wall；　very　high　and　very　fragile…looking；　perforated　with　paneless　windows：　no　roof；　no　battlements；　no　chimneys—all　had　crashed　in。

And　there　was　the　silence　of　death　about　it：　the　solitude　of　a　lonesome　wild。　No　wonder　that　letters　addressed　to　people　here　had　never　received　an　answer：　as　well　despatch　epistles　to　a　vault　in　a　church　aisle。　The　grim　blackness　of　the　stones　told　by　what　fate　the　Hall　had　fallen—by　conflagration：　but　how　kindled？　What　story　belonged　to　this　disaster？　What　loss；　besides　mortar　and　marble　and　wood…work　had　followed　upon　it？　Had　life　been　wrecked　as　well　as　property？　If　so；　whose？　Dreadful　question：　there　was　no　one　here　to　answer　it—not　even　dumb　sign；　mute　token。

In　wandering　round　the　shattered　walls　and　through　the　devastated　interior；　I　gathered　evidence　that　the　calamity　was　not　of　late　occurrence。　Winter　snows；　I　thought；　had　drifted　through　that　void　arch；　winter　rains　beaten　in　at　those　hollow　casements；　for；　amidst　the　drenched　piles　of　rubbish；　spring　had　cherished　vegetation：　grass　and　weed　grew　here