The Trespasser Page 10

  _Chapter 10_

  Siegmund carried the boots and the shoes while they wandered over thesand to the rocks. There was a delightful sense of risk in scramblingwith bare feet over the smooth irregular jumble of rocks. Helena laughedsuddenly from fear as she felt herself slipping. Siegmund's heart wasleaping like a child's with excitement as he stretched forward, himselfvery insecure, to succour her. Thus they travelled slowly. Often shecalled to him to come and look in the lovely little rock-pools, duskywith blossoms of red anemones and brown anemones that seemed nothing butshadows, and curtained with green of finest sea-silk. Siegmund loved topoke the white pebbles, and startle the little ghosts of crabs in ashadowy scuttle through the weed. He would tease the expectant anemones,causing them to close suddenly over his finger. But Helena liked towatch without touching things. Meanwhile the sun was slanting behind thecross far away to the west, and the light was swimming in silver andgold upon the lacquered water. At last Siegmund looked doubtfully at twomiles more of glistening, gilded boulders. Helena was seated on a stone,dabbling her feet in a warm pool, delicately feeling the wet sea-velvetof the weeds.

  'Don't you think we had better be mounting the cliffs?' he said.

  She glanced up at him, smiling with irresponsible eyes. Then she lappedthe water with her feet, and surveyed her pink toes. She was absurdly,childishly happy.

  'Why should we?' she asked lightly.

  He watched her. Her child-like indifference to consequences touched himwith a sense of the distance between them. He himself might play withthe delicious warm surface of life, but always he reeked of therelentless mass of cold beneath--the mass of life which has no sympathywith the individual, no cognizance of him.

  She loved the trifles and the toys, the mystery and the magic of things.She would not own life to be relentless. It was either beautiful,fantastic, or weird, or inscrutable, or else mean and vulgar, belowconsideration. He had to get a sense of the anemone and a sympatheticknowledge of its experience, into his blood, before he was satisfied. ToHelena an anemone was one more fantastic pretty figure in herkaleidoscope.

  So she sat dabbling her pink feet in the water, quite unconscious of hisgravity. He waited on her, since he never could capture her.

  'Come,' he said very gently. 'You are only six years old today.'

  She laughed as she let him take her. Then she nestled up to him, smilingin a brilliant, child-like fashion. He kissed her with all the father inhim sadly alive.

  'Now put your stockings on,' he said.

  'But my feet are wet.' She laughed.

  He kneeled down and dried her feet on his handkerchief while she sattossing his hair with her finger-tips. The sunlight grew more andmore golden.

  'I envy the savages their free feet,' she said.

  'There is no broken glass in the wilderness--or there used not to be,'he replied.

  As they were crossing the sands, a whole family entered by the clifftrack. They descended in single file, unequally, like the theatre; twoboys, then a little girl, the father, another girl, then the mother.Last of all trotted the dog, warily, suspicious of the descent. The boysemerged into the bay with a shout; the dog rushed, barking, after them.The little one waited for her father, calling shrilly:

  'Tiss can't fall now, can she, dadda? Shall I put her down?'

  'Ay, let her have a run,' said the father.

  Very carefully she lowered the kitten which she had carried clasped toher bosom. The mite was bewildered and scared. It turned roundpathetically.

  'Go on, Tissie; you're all right,' said the child. 'Go on; have a run onthe sand.'

  The kitten stood dubious and unhappy. Then, perceiving the dog somedistance ahead, it scampered after him, a fluffy, scurrying mite. Butthe dog had already raced into the water. The kitten walked a few steps,turning its small face this way and that, and mewing piteously. Itlooked extraordinarily tiny as it stood, a fluffy handful, staring awayfrom the noisy water, its thin cry floating over the plash of waves.

  Helena glanced at Siegmund, and her eyes were shining with pity. He waswatching the kitten and smiling.

  'Crying because things are too big, and it can't take them in,' he said.

  'But look how frightened it is,' she said.

  'So am I.' He laughed. 'And if there are any gods looking on andlaughing at me, at least they won't be kind enough to put me in theirpinafores....'

  She laughed very quickly.

  'But why?' she exclaimed. 'Why should you want putting in a pinafore?'

  'I don't,' he laughed.

  On the top of the cliff they were between two bays, with darkening bluewater on the left, and on the right gold water smoothing to the sun.Siegmund seemed to stand waist-deep in shadow, with his face bright andglowing. He was watching earnestly.

  'I want to absorb it all,' he said.

  When at last they turned away:

  'Yes,' said Helena slowly; 'one can recall the details, but never theatmosphere.'

  He pondered a moment.

  'How strange!' he said. I can recall the atmosphere, but not the detail.It is a moment to me, not a piece of scenery. I should say the picturewas in me, not out there.'

  Without troubling to understand--she was inclined to think itverbiage--she made a small sound of assent.

  'That is why you want to go again to a place, and I don't care so much,because I have it with me,' he concluded.