【荆棘鸟】第六章 13

她实际上是个什么样的人，或者他认为她是个什么样的人？
　　"哦，梅吉。"他无能为力地说道。
　　她转过身来，凝视着他，尽管她很悲痛，还是向他投来了毫不掺假的、充满了爱的一笑。这是恣意纵情的笑，在她的世界中，还没有成年妇女那种清规戒律和压抑收敛。这样的爱使他神驰意荡，魂夺魄消，使他渴望向自己时时怀疑其是否存在的上帝发誓，让自己成为人类中的一名重要人物，但这人又不是拉尔夫·德·布里克萨特。这就是那未知的东西吗？哦，上帝啊，为什么他这样爱她？但是，像往常一样，谁也不能给他答案，而梅吉仍然坐在那里向他微笑着。
　　黎明时分，菲起来做早饭了，斯图尔特在帮着她。这时，史密斯太太和明妮、凯特回来了。四个女人一起站在炉旁，压低嗓音，用单调的声音交谈着；她们组成了一个充满了悲伤的小团体，这种悲伤梅吉和教士都无法理解。吃过饭之后，梅吉去给男孩子们做就的小木箱子铺衬里，想方设法将它弄得光滑一些，做些修饰。菲默默无语地给了她一件白缎子睡衣，由于年深日久，这件衣服已呈牙白色了；她将睡衣上的条带固定在那木箱内部的硬框上。在拉尔夫神父把一条毛巾布垫料放进去的时候，她用缝纫机将缎子块缝制成了衬垫。然后，他们一起将村里用图钉固定在适当的位置。这些做完之后，菲给那孩子穿上了他最好的丝绒衣服，将他的头发梳好，放进了那柔软的小窝里；这小窝散发着菲的气味，而不是曾做过他母亲的梅吉的气味。帕迪将盖子合严，他落泪了；这是他失去的第一个孩子。
　　多年来，德罗海达的那间接待室一直当作小礼拜堂使用。它的一端经过了改建，悬挂着玛丽·卡森为圣玛丽·杜梭修女们置办的金光闪闪的服装，花了数千镑在上面缀满了花纹。这间屋子是史密斯太太装饰的，祭坛上放着从德罗海达的花圃里采来的冬季的花朵，有香罗兰，早发的根株，迟发的玫瑰和石竹之类的一团一簇的花以及几幅褪了色的画。屋子里充满了一种不可思议的香味。拉尔夫神父就是在这里穿着不带花边的白长袍和没有任何装饰的十字褡做追思弥撒的。
　　与内地人多数大牧场一样，德罗海达死去的人都葬在自己的土地上。墓地在园地的外面，靠近小河那柳树成荫的岸边，周围是一圈上了白漆的熟铁栅栏。即使在这种干旱的时候，墓地依然一片葱翠，因为这里是由庄园的水箱灌溉的。
 

what she truly was, or what he thought she was?
"Oh, Meggie," he said helplessly.
She turned her gaze to him and out of her pain gave him a smile of absolute, overflowing 1 love, nothing in it held back, the taboos 2 and inhibitions of womanhood not yet a part of her world. To be so loved shook him, consumed him, made him wish to the God Whose existence he sometimes doubted that he was anyone in the universe but Ralph de Bricassart. Was this it, the unknown thing? Oh, God, why did he love her so? But as usual no one answered him; and Meggie sat still smiling at him. At dawn Fee got up to make breakfast, Stuart helping 3 her, then Mrs. Smith came back with Minnie and Cat, and the four women stood together by the stove talking in hushed monotones, bound in some league of grief neither Meggie nor the priest understood. After the meal Meggie went to line the little wooden box the boys had made, planed smooth and varnished 4. Silently Fee had given her a white satin evening gown long since gone to the hue 5 of ivory with age, and she fitted strips of it to the hard contours of the box interior. While Father Ralph put a toweling padding in it she ran the pieces of satin into shape on the sewing machine, then together they fixed 6 the lining 7 in place with thumbtacks. And after that Fee dressed her baby in his best velvet 8 suit, combed his hair and laid him in the soft nest which smelled of her, but not of Meggie, who had been his mother. Paddy closed down the lid, weeping; this was the first child he had lost. For years the reception room at Drogheda had been in use as a chapel 9; an altar had been built at one end, and was draped in golden raiment Mary Carson had paid the nuns 10 of St. Mary d'Urso a thousand pounds to embroider 11. Mrs. Smith had decked the room and the altar with winter flowers from Drogheda's gardens, wallflowers and early stocks and late roses, masses of them like pink and rusty 12 paintings magically finding the dimension of scent 13. In a laceless white alb and a black chasuble free of any ornamentation, Father Ralph said the Requiem 14 Mass.
As with most of the great Outback stations, Drogheda buried its dead on its own land. The cemetery 15 lay beyond the gardens by the willow-littered banks of the creek 16, bounded by a white-painted wrought-iron railing and green even in this dry time, for it was watered from the homestead tanks.