小说园

第1部分（第6页）

Her　imagination　was　fired　by　the　squires　lady　at　Shelly

Hall；　who　came　to　church　at　Cossethay　with　her　little　children；

girls　in　tidy　capes　of　beaver　fur；　and　smart　little　hats；

herself　like　a　winter　rose；　so　fair　and　delicate。　So　fair；　so

fine　in　mould；　so　luminous；　what　was　it　that　Mrs。　Hardy　felt

which　she；　Mrs。　Brangwen；　did　not　feel？　How　was　Mrs。　Hardys

nature　different　from　that　of　the　mon　women　of　Cossethay；　in

what　was　it　beyond　them？　All　the　women　of　Cossethay　talked

eagerly　about　Mrs。　Hardy；　of　her　husband；　her　children；　her

guests；　her　dress；　of　her　servants　and　her　housekeeping。　The

lady　of　the　Hall　was　the　living　dream　of　their　lives；　her　life

was　the　epic　that　inspired　their　lives。　In　her　they　lived

imaginatively；　and　in　gossiping　of　her　husband　who　drank；　of　her

scandalous　brother；　of　Lord　William　Bentley　her　friend；　member

of　Parliament　for　the　division；　they　had　their　own　Odyssey

enacting　itself；　Penelope　and　Ulysses　before　them；　and　Circe　and

the　swine　and　the　endless　web。

So　the　women　of　the　village　were　fortunate。　They　saw

themselves　in　the　lady　of　the　manor；　each　of　them　lived　her　own

fulfilment　of　the　life　of　Mrs。　Hardy。　And　the　Brangwen　wife　of

the　Marsh　aspired　beyond　herself；　towards　the　further　life　of

the　finer　woman；　towards　the　extended　being　she　revealed；　as　a

traveller　in　his　self…contained　manner　reveals　far…off　countries

present　in　himself。　But　why　should　a　knowledge　of　far…off

countries　make　a　mans　life　a　different　thing；　finer；　bigger？

And　why　is　a　man　more　than　the　beast　and　the　cattle　that　serve

him？　It　is　the　same　thing。

The　male　part　of　the　poem　was　filled　in　by　such　men　as　the

vicar　and　Lord　William；　lean；　eager　men　with　strange　movements；

men　who　had　mand　of　the　further　fields；　whose　lives　ranged

over　a　great　extent。　Ah；　it　was　something　very　desirable　to

know；　this　touch　of　the　wonderful　men　who　had　the　power　of

thought　and　prehension。　The