下载辰思小说免费APP
Jeremylistened，andgraduallytheregrewbeforehiseyesthefigureofastrangeandterribleGod。Thiswasnonewfigure。HehadneverthoughtdirectlyaboutGod，butforaverylongtimenowhehadhadHiminthebackgroundofhislifeasPolchesterTownHallwasinthebackground。ButnowhedefinitelyandactivelyfiguredtohimselfthisGod，thisGodWhowastakinghismotherawayandwasintendingapparentlytoputherintosomedarkplacewhereshewouldknownobody。Itmustbesomehorribleplace，becausehisfatherlookedsofrightened，whichhewouldnotlookifhismotherwassimplygoing，withagoldenharp，tosinghymns。JeremyhadalwaysheardthatthisGodwaslovingandkindandtender，butthefigurewhomhisfatherwasnowdrawingforthebenefitofthecongregationwasnoneofthesethings。
Mr。ColespokeofaGodjustandterrible，butaGodWhoapparentlyforthemerestfancyputHisfaithfulservanttoterribleanguishanddistress，andthenforanotherfancy，aslightasthefirst，sparedhimhissorrow。Mr。Coleemphasisedthenecessityforobedience，theneedforawillingsurrenderofanythingthatmaybedeartous，“becausetheloveofGodmustbegreaterthananythingthatholdsushereonearth。“ButJeremydidnotlistentotheseremarks；hismindwasfilledwiththispictureofavastshadowyfigure，seatedinthesky，hiswhitebeardflowingbeneatheyesthatfrownedfromdarkrockyeyebrowsoutuponpeoplelikeJeremywho，althoughdoingtheirbest，wereneverthelessatthemercyofanywhimthatHemighthave。Thisterriblefigurewastheauthorofthehotday，authorofthesilenthouseandtheshimmeringdarkenedchurch，authorofthedecisiontotakehismotherawayfromallthatshelovedandputhersomewherewhereshewouldbealoneandcoldandsilent——“simplybecauseHewishes……“
“Fromthisbeautifulpassage，“concludedMr。Cole，“welearnthatGodisjustandmerciful，butthatHedemandsourobedience。Wemustbereadyatanyinstanttogiveupwhatwelovemostandbest……“
Afterwardstheyalltroopedoutintothesplendidsunshine。
IV
TherewasahorribleSundaydinnerwhen——thesilenceandtheroastbeefandYorkshirepudding，andthedining-roomquiveringwithheat，emphasisedeveryminuteofthesolemntickingclock——Marysuddenlyburstintotears，chokedoveraglassofwater，andwasledfromtheroom。Jeremyatehisbeefandricepuddinginsilence，exceptthatonceortwiceinalow，hoarsevoicewhispered：“Passthemustard，please，“or“Passthesalt，please。“MissJones，watchinghiswhitefaceandthetrembleofhisupperlip，longedtosaysomethingtocomforthim，butwiselyheldherpeace。
AfterdinnerJeremycollectedHamletandwenttotheconservatory。
This，likesomanyotherEnglishconservatories，wasadesolateanddesperatelittleplace，whereboxesofsand，drycorded-lookingbulbs，andanunhappyplantortwolanguished，forgottenandforlorn。Ithadbeeninheritedwiththehousemanyyearsago，and，atfirst，theColeshadhadtheambitiontomakeitblazewithcolour，togrowtherethemostmarvellousgrapes，therichesttomatoes，andeven——althoughitwasalittleoutofplaceinthehouseofaclergymanoftheChurchofEngland——themostsinisteroforchids。Veryquicklythelittleconservatoryhadbeenabandoned；
theheatingapparatushadfailed，theplantshadrefusedtogrow，thetomatoesneverappeared，thebulbswouldnotburstintocolour。
ForJeremytheplacehadhadalwaysanindescribablefascination。
Whenhewasveryyoungtherehadbeenabsolutetrustthatthingswouldgrow；thateverykindofwondermightspringbeforeone’seyesatanymomentoftheday。Then，whennowondercame，therehadbeenthethrilloftheemptyboxesofearth；theprobingwithone’sfingerstoseewhatthefunny-lookingbulbswouldbe，andwatchingthefrondsofthepalevine。Afterwards，therewasanotherfascination——thefascinationofsomestrangeandsinisteratmospherethathewasmuchtooyoungtodefine。Theplace，heknew，wasdifferentfromtherestofthehouse。Itprojected，conventionallyenough，fromthedrawing-room；buttheheavydoorwiththick
