第2章

Forshehadasecretsorrowthatateherheartaway，althoughsheneverspokeofit。

Butonechildwasborntous，andthischilddiedininfancy，norforallherprayersdiditpleaseGodtogiveheranother，andindeedrememberingthewordsofOtomieIdidnotexpectthatitwouldbeso。

NowsheknewwellthatyonderacrosstheseasIhadchildrenwhomIlovedbyanotherwife，andthoughtheywerelongdead，mustalwaysloveunalterably，andthisthoughtwrungherheart。

ThatIhadbeenthehusbandofanotherwomanshecouldforgive，butthatthiswomanshouldhavebornemechildrenwhosememorywasstillsodear，shecouldnotforgetifsheforgaveit，shewhowaschildless。

Whyitwasso，beingbutaman，Icannotsay；forwhocanknowallthemysteryofalovingwoman’sheart？

Butsoitwas。

Once，indeed，wequarrelledonthematter；itwasouronlyquarrel。

Itchancedthatwhenwehadbeenmarriedbuttwoyears，andourbabewassomefewdaysburiedinthechurchyardofthisparishofDitchingham，IdreamedaveryvividdreamasIsleptonenightatmywife’sside。

Idreamedthatmydeadchildren，thefourofthem，forthetallestladboreinhisarmsmyfirstborn，thatinfantwhodiedinthegreatsiege，cametomeastheyhadoftencomewhenI

ruledthepeopleoftheOtomieintheCityofPines，andtalkedwithme，givingmeflowersandkissingmyhands。

Ilookedupontheirstrengthandbeauty，andwasproudatheart，and，inmydream，itseemedasthoughsomegreatsorrowhadbeenliftedfrommymind；asthoughthesedearoneshadbeenlostandnowwerefoundagain。

Ah！whatmiseryisthereliketothismiseryofdreams，thatcanthusgiveusbackourdeadinmockery，andthendeparting，leaveuswithakeenerwoe？

Well，Idreamedon，talkingwithmychildreninmysleepandnamingthembytheirbelovednames，tillatlengthIwoketolookonemptiness，andknowingallmysorrowIsobbedaloud。

Nowitwasearlymorning，andthelightoftheAugustsunstreamedthroughthewindow，butI，deemingthatmywifeslept，stilllayintheshadowofmydreamasitwere，andgroaned，murmuringthenamesofthosewhomImightneverseeagain。

Itchanced，however，thatshewasawake，andhadoverheardthosewordswhichIspokewiththedead，whileIwasyetasleepandafter；andthoughsomeofthistalkwasinthetongueoftheOtomie，themostwasEnglish，andknowingthenamesofmychildrensheguessedthepurportofitall。

Suddenlyshesprangfromthebedandstoodoverme，andtherewassuchangerinhereyesasIhadneverseenbeforenorhaveseensince，nordiditlastlongthen，forpresentlyindeeditwasquenchedintears。

’Whatisit，wife？’Iaskedastonished。

’Itishard，’sheanswered，’thatImustbeartolistentosuchtalkfromyourlips，husband。

Wasitnotenoughthat，whenallmenthoughtyoudead，Iworemyyouthawayfaithfultoyourmemory？

thoughhowfaithfulyouweretomineyouknowbest。

DidIeverreproachyoubecauseyouhadforgottenme，andweddedasavagewomaninadistantland？’

’Never，dearwife，norhadIforgottenyouasyouknowwell；butwhatIwonderatisthatyoushouldgrowjealousnowwhenallcauseisdonewith。’

’Cannotwebejealousofthedead？

Withthelivingwemaycope，butwhocanfightagainstthelovewhichdeathhascompleted，sealingitforeverandmakingitimmortal！

Still，THATIforgiveyou，foragainstthiswomanIcanholdmyown，seeingthatyouwereminebeforeyoubecamehers，andaremineafterit。

Butwiththechildrenitisotherwise。

Theyarehersandyoursalone。

Ihavenopartnorlotinthem，andwhethertheybedeadorlivingIknowwellyoulovethemalways，andwilllovethembeyondthegraveifyoumayfindthemthere。

AlreadyIgrowold，whowaitedtwentyyearsandmorebeforeIwasyourwife，andIshallgiveyounootherchildren。

OneIgaveyou，andGodtookitbacklestIshouldbetoohappy；yetitsnamewasnotonyourlipswiththosestrangenames。

Mydeadbabeislittletoyou，husband！’

Hereshechoked，burstingintotears；nordidIthinkitwelltoanswerherthattherewasthisdifferenceinthematter，thatwhereas，withtheexceptionofoneinfant，thosesonswhomIhadlostwerealmostadolescent，thebabesheborelivedbutsixtydays。

NowwhentheQueenfirstputitinmymindtowritedownthehistoryofmylife，Irememberedthisoutbreakofmybelovedwife；

andseeingthatIcouldwritenotruetaleandleaveoutofitthestoryofherwhowasalsomywife，Montezuma’sdaughter，Otomie，PrincessoftheOtomie，andofthechildrenthatshegaveme，Iletthematterlie。

ForIknewwell，thatthoughwespokeveryrarelyonthesubjectduringallthemanyyearswepassedtogether，stillitwasalwaysinLily’smind；nordidherjealousy，beingofthefinersort，abateatallwithage，butrathergatheredwiththegatheringdays。

ThatIshouldexecutethetaskwithouttheknowledgeofmywifewouldnothavebeenpossible，fortilltheverylastshewatchedovermyeveryact，and，asIverilybelieve，divinedthemostofmythoughts。

Andsowegrewoldtogether，peacefully，andsidebyside，speakingseldomofthatgreatgapinmylifewhenwewerelosttoeachotherandofallthatthenbefell。

Atlengththeendcame。

Mywifediedsuddenlyinhersleepintheeighty-seventhyearofherage。

I

buriedheronthesouthsideofthechurchhere，withsorrowindeed，butnotwithsorrowinconsolable，forIknowthatImustsoonrejoinher，andthoseotherswhomIhaveloved。

Thereinthatwideheavenaremymotherandmysisterandmysons；

therearegreatGuatemocmyfriend，lastoftheemperors，andmanyothercompanionsinwarwhohaveprecededmetopeace；there，too，thoughshedoubtedofit，isOtomiethebeautifulandproud。

IntheheavenwhichItrusttoreach，allthesinsofmyyouthandtheerrorsofmyagenotwithstanding，itistoldusthereisnomarryingandgivinginmarriage；andthisiswell，forIdonotknowhowmywives，Montezuma’sdaughterandthesweetEnglishgentlewoman，wouldagreetogetherwereitotherwise。

Andnowtomytask。

I，ThomasWingfield，wasbornhereatDitchingham，andinthisveryroomwhereIwriteto-day。

ThehouseofmybirthwasbuiltoraddedtoearlyinthereignoftheseventhHenry，butlongbeforehistimesomekindoftenementstoodhere，whichwaslivedinbythekeeperofthevineyards，andknownasGardener’sLodge。

Whetheritchancedthattheclimatewasmorekindlyinoldtimes，ortheskillofthosewhotendedthefieldswasgreater，Idonotknow，butthisattheleastistrue，thatthehillsidebeneathwhichthehousenestles，andwhichoncewasthebankofanarmoftheseaorofagreatbroad，wasavineyardinEarlBigod’sdays。

Longsinceithasceasedtogrowgrapes，thoughthenameofthe’Earl’sVineyard’stillclingstoallthatslopeoflandwhichliesbetweenthishouseandacertainhealth-givingspringthatbubblesfromthebankthehalfofamileaway，inthewatersofwhichsickfolkscometobatheevenfromNorwichandLowestoft。

Butshelteredasitisfromtheeastwinds，tothishourtheplacehastheadvantagethatgardensplantedhereareearlierbyfourteendaysthananyothersinthecountryside，andthatamanmaysitinthemcoatlessinthebittermonthofMay，whenonthetopofthehill，nottwohundredpaceshence，hemustshiverinajacketofotterskins。

TheLodge，forsoithasalwaysbeennamed，initsbeginningshavingbeenbutafarmhouse，facestothesouth-west，andisbuiltsolowthatitmightwellbethoughtthatthedampfromtheriverWaveney，whichrunsthroughthemarshescloseby，wouldriseinit。

Butthisisnotso，forthoughinautumntheroke，ashereinNorfolkwenamegroundfog，hangsaboutthehouseatnightfall，andinseasonsofgreatfloodthewaterhasbeenknowntopourintothestablesatthebackofit，yetbeingbuiltonsandandgravelthereisnohealthierhabitationintheparish。

Fortherestthebuildingisofstud-workandredbrick，quaintandmellowlooking，withmanycornersandgablesthatinsummerarehalfhiddeninrosesandothercreepingplants，andwithitsoutlookonthemarshesandthecommonwherethelightsvarycontinuallywiththeseasonsandevenwiththehoursoftheday，ontheredroofsofBungaytown，andonthewoodedbankthatstretchesroundtheEarshamlands；thoughtherearemanylarger，tomymindthereisnonepleasanterintheseparts。

HereinthishouseIwasborn，andheredoubtlessIshalldie，andhavingspokenofitatsomelength，aswearewonttodoofspotswhichlongcustomhasendearedtous，Iwillgoontotellofmyparentage。

First，then，Iwouldsetoutwithacertainpride——forwhoofusdoesnotloveanancientnamewhenwehappentobeborntoit？——

thatIamsprungfromthefamilyoftheWingfieldsofWingfieldCastleinSuffolk，thatliessometwohoursonhorsebackfromthisplace。

LongagotheheiressoftheWingfieldsmarriedaDelaPole，afamilyfamousinourhistory，thelastofwhom，Edmund，EarlofSuffolk，losthisheadfortreasonwhenIwasyoung，andthecastlepassedtotheDelaPoleswithher。

ButsomeoffshootsoftheoldWingfieldstocklingeredintheneighbourhood，perchancetherewasabarsinisterontheircoatofarms，Iknownotanddonotcaretoknow；attheleastmyfathersandIareofthisblood。

Mygrandfatherwasashrewdman，moreofayeomanthanasquire，thoughhisbirthwasgentle。

Heitwaswhoboughtthisplacewiththelandsroundit，andgatheredupsomefortune，mostlybycarefulmarryingandliving，forthoughhehadbutonesonhewastwicemarried，andalsobytradingincattle。

Nowmygrandfatherwasgodly-mindedeventosuperstition，andstrangeasitmayseem，havingonlyoneson，nothingwouldsatisfyhimbutthattheboyshouldbemadeapriest。

Butmyfatherhadlittleleaningtowardsthepriesthoodandlifeinamonastery，thoughatallseasonsmygrandfatherstrovetoreasonitintohim，sometimeswithwordsandexamples，atotherswithhisthickcudgelofholly，thatstillhangsovertheingleinthesmallersitting-

room。

TheendofitwasthattheladwassenttotheprioryhereinBungay，wherehisconductwasofsuchnaturethatwithinayearthepriorprayedhisparentstotakehimbackandsethiminsomewayofsecularlife。

Notonly，sosaidtheprior，didmyfathercausescandalbyhisactions，breakingoutoftheprioryatnightandvisitingdrinkinghousesandotherplaces；but，suchwasthesumofhiswickedness，hedidnotscrupletoquestionandmakemockoftheverydoctrinesoftheChurch，allegingeventhattherewasnothingsacredintheimageoftheVirginMarywhichstoodinthechancel，andshutitseyesinprayerbeforeallthecongregationwhenthepriestelevatedtheHost。

’Therefore，’saidtheprior，’I

prayyoutakebackyourson，andlethimfindsomeotherroadtothestakethanthatwhichrunsthroughthegatesofBungayPriory。’

Nowatthisstorymygrandfatherwassoenragedthathealmostfellintoafit；thenrecovering，hebethoughthimofhiscudgelofholly，andwouldhaveusedit。

Butmyfather，whowasnownineteenyearsofageandverystoutandstrong，twisteditfromhishandandflungitfullfiftyyards，sayingthatnomanshouldtouchhimmorewereheahundredtimeshisfather。

Thenhewalkedaway，leavingthepriorandmygrandfatherstaringateachother。

Nowtoshortenalongtale，theendofthematterwasthis。

Itwasbelievedbothbymygrandfatherandthepriorthatthetruecauseofmyfather’scontumacywasapassionwhichhehadconceivedforagirlofhumblebirth，amiller’sfairdaughterwhodweltatWaingfordMills。

Perhapstherewastruthinthisbelief，orperhapstherewasnone。

Whatdoesitmatter，seeingthatthemaidmarriedabutcheratBecclesanddiedyearssinceatthegoodageofninetyandfive？

Buttrueorfalse，mygrandfatherbelievedthetale，andknowingwellthatabsenceisthesurestcureforlove，heenteredintoaplanwiththepriorthatmyfathershouldbesenttoamonasteryatSevilleinSpain，ofwhichtheprior’sbrotherwasabbot，andtherelearntoforgetthemiller’sdaughterandallotherworldlythings。

Whenthiswastoldtomyfatherhefellintoitreadilyenough，beingayoungmanofspiritandhavingagreatdesiretoseetheworld，otherwise，however，thanthroughthegratingsofamonasterywindow。

SotheendofitwasthathewenttoforeignpartsinthecareofapartyofSpanishmonks，whohadjourneyedheretoNorfolkonapilgrimagetotheshrineofourLadyofWalsingham。

Itissaidthatmygrandfatherweptwhenhepartedwithhisson，feelingthatheshouldseehimnomore；yetsostrongwashisreligion，orratherhissuperstition，thathedidnothesitatetosendhimaway，thoughfornoreasonsavethathewouldmortifyhisownloveandflesh，offeringhissonforasacrificeasAbrahamwouldhaveofferedIsaac。

Butthoughmyfatherappearedtoconsenttothesacrifice，asdidIsaac，yethismindwasnotaltogethersetonaltarsandfaggots；inshort，ashehimselftoldmeinafteryears，hisplanswerealreadylaid。

ThusitchancedthatwhenhehadsailedfromYarmouthayearandsixmonths，therecamealetterfromtheabbotofthemonasteryinSevilletohisbrother，thepriorofSt。Mary’satBungay，sayingthatmyfatherhadfledfromthemonastery，leavingnotraceofwherehehadgone。

Mygrandfatherwasgrievedatthistidings，butsaidlittleaboutit。

Twomoreyearspassedaway，andtherecameothernews，namely，thatmyfatherhadbeencaptured，thathehadbeenhandedovertothepoweroftheHolyOffice，astheaccursedInquisitionwasthennamed，andtorturedtodeathatSeville。