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When the World Shook-Part5_H.Rider Haggard(1856-1925)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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At any rate we loved, and one evening in the shelter of the



solemn walls of the great Coliseum at Rome, which at that hour

were shut to all except ourselves, we confessed our love. I



really think we must have chosen the spot by tacit but mutual

consent because we felt it to be fitting. It was so old, so



impregnated with every human experience, from the direst crime of

the tyrant who thought himself a god, to the sublimest sacrifice



of the martyr who already was half a god; with every vice and

virtue also which lies between these extremes, that it seemed to



be the most fitting altar whereon to offer our hearts and all

that caused them to beat, each to the other.



So Natalie and I were betrothed within a month of our first

meeting. Within three we were married, for what was there to



prevent or delay? Naturally Sir Alfred was delighted, seeing that

he possessed but small private resources and I was able to make



ample provision for his daughter who had hitherto shown herself

somewhat difficult in this business of matrimony and now was



bordering on her twenty-seventh year. Everybody was delighted,

everything went smoothly as a sledge sliding down a slope of



frozen snow and the mists of time hid whatever might be at the

end of that slope. Probably a plain; at the worst the upward rise



of ordinary life.

That is what we thought, if we thought at all. Certainly we



never dreamed of a precipice. Why should we, who were young, by

comparison, quite healthy and very rich? Who thinks of precipices



under such circumstances, when disaster seems to be eliminated

and death is yet a long way off?



And yet we ought to have done so, because we should have known

that smooth surfaces without impediment to the runners often end



in something of the kind.

I am bound to say that when we returned home to Fulcombe, where



of course we met with a great reception, including the ringing

(out of tune) of the new peal of bells that I had given to the



church, Bastin made haste to point this out.

"Your wife seems a very nice and beautiful lady, Arbuthnot," he



reflected aloud after dinner, when Mrs. Bastin, glowering as

usual, though what at I do not know, had been escorted from the



room by Natalie, "and really, when I come to think of it, you are

an unusuallyfortunate person. You possess a great deal of money,



much more than you have any right to; which you seem to have done

very little to earn and do not spend quite as I should like you



to do, and this nice property, that ought to be owned by a great

number of people, as, according to the views you express, I



should have thought you would acknowledge, and everything else

that a man can want. It is very strange that you should be so



favoured and not because of any particular merits of your own

which one can see. However, I have no doubt it will all come even



in the end and you will get your share of troubles, like others.

Perhaps Mrs. Arbuthnot will have no children as there is so much



for them to take. Or perhaps you will lose all your money and

have to work for your living, which might be good for you. Or,"



he added, still thinking aloud after his fashion, "perhaps she

will die young--she has that kind of face, although, of course, I



hope she won't," he added, waking up.

I do not know why, but his wandering words struck me cold; the



proverbial funeral bell at the marriage feast was nothing to

them. I suppose it was because in a flash of intuition I knew



that they would come true and that he was an appointed Cassandra.

Perhaps this uncanny knowledge overcame my natural indignation at



such super-gaucherie of which no one but Bastin could have been

capable, and even prevented me from replying at all, so that I



merely sat still and looked at him.

But Bickley did reply with some vigour.



"Forgive me for saying so, Bastin," he said, bristling all over

as it were, "but your remarks, which may or may not be in



accordance with the principles of your religion, seem to me to be

in singularly bad taste. They would have turned the stomachs of a



gathering of early Christians, who appear to have been the worst

mannered people in the world, and at any decentheathen feast



your neck would have been wrung as that of a bird of ill omen."

"Why?" asked Bastin blankly. "I only said what I thought to be



the truth. The truth is better than what you call good taste."

"Then I will say what I think also to be the truth," replied






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