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Inman had attended church expressly for the purpose of viewing her. In the weeks following Ada’s arrival in Cold Mountain， Inman had heard much about her before he saw her. She and her father stayed too long green in the country they had taken up， and they soon became a source of great comedy to many households along the river road. For people to sit on the porch and watch Ada and Monroe pass by in the 1）cabriolet or to see Ada on one of her nature walks along the big road was as near to theater as most would come， and she provoked as much discussion as a new production at the Dock Street opera. All agreed that she was pretty enough， but her very choice of 2）Charleston 3）garb or flourish of hairstyle was subject to ridicule. If she were seen holding a stem of 4）beardtongue blossoms to admire their color or stooping to touch the spikes of jimson leaves， some would solemnly call her mazed in the head not to know beardtongue when she saw it， and others would wonder， grinning， was she so wit-scoured as perhaps to eat jimson？ Gossip had it that she went about with a notebook and pencil and would stare at a thing—bird or bush， weed， sunset， mountain—and then scratch at paper awhile as if she were 5）addled enough in her thinking that she might forget what was important to her if she did not mark it down.
So one Sunday morning Inman dressed himself carefully—in a new black suit， white shirt， black tie， black hat—and set out for church to view Ada. It was a time of blackberry winter and a chill rain had fallen without pause for three days， and though the rain had stopped sometime in the night， the morning sun had not yet burned through the clouds， and the slash of sky visible between the ridgelines was dark and low and utterly without feature. The roads were nothing but sucking mud， and so Inman had arrived late and taken a seat at a rear 6）pew. There was already a 7）hymn going. Someone had lit a greenwood fire in the stove. It smoked from around the top plate， and the smoke rose to the ceiling and spread flat against the beadboards and hung there grey like a miniature of the actual sky.
Inman had but the back of her head to find Ada by， yet that took only a moment since her dark hair was done up in a heavy and intricate plait of such recent fashion that it was not then known in the mountains. Below where her hair was twisted up， two faint cords of muscle ran up under the skin on either side of her white neck to hold her head on. Between them a scoop， a shaded hollow of skin. Curls too fine to be worked up into the plait. All through the hymn， Inman’s eyes rested there， so that after awhile， even before he saw her face， all he wanted was to press two fingertips against that mystery place. Monroe began the sermon by commenting on the hymn they had all just mouthed. Its words seemed to look with passionate yearning to a time when they would be immersed in an ocean of love. But Monroe preached that they were misunderstanding the song if they fooled themselves into thinking all creation would someday love them. What it really required was for them to love all creation. That was altogether a more difficult thing and， to judge by the congregation’s reaction， somewhat shocking and distressful.
When the service 8）concluded， the men and women left the church by their separate doors. Muddy horses stood asleep in their traces， their rigs and traps behind them 9）mired up to the 10）spokes in mud. The voices of the people awoke them， and one chestnut 11）mare shook her 12）hide with the sound of flapping a dirty carpet. The 13）churchyard was filled with the smell of mud and wet leaves and wet clothes and wet horses. The men lined up to shake hands with Monroe， and then they all milled about the wet churchyard visiting and speculating on whether the rain had quit or was just resting. Some of the elders talked in low voices about the queerness of Monroe’s sermon and its lack of Scripture and about how they admired his stubbornness in the face of other people’s desires.
The unmarried men wadded up together， standing with their muddy boots and spattered pant cuffs in a circle. Their talk had more of Saturday night to it than Sunday morning， and all of them periodically cut their eyes to where Ada stood at the edge of the graveyard looking altogether foreign and beautiful and utterly awkward. Everyone else wore woolens against the damp chill， but Ada had on an ivory-colored linen dress with lace at the collar and sleeves and hem. She seemed to have chosen it more by the calendar than the weather. She stood holding her elbows. The older women came to her and said things and then there were 14）knotty pauses and then they went away. Inman noted that every time she was approached， Ada took a step back until she fetched up against the 15）headstone of a man who had fought in the Revolution.
“If I went and told her my name， reckon she’d say ought to me back？” said a Dillard man who had come to church for precisely the same reason Inman had.
“I couldn’t say，” Inman said.
“You’d not begin to know where to start 16）courting her，” Hob Mars said to Dillard. “Best leave that to me.” Mars was shortish and big through the chest. He had a fat watch that 17）pooched out his vest pocket and a silver chain that ran to his pant waist and a scrolled fob hanging from the chain. Dillard said， “You think you bore with a mighty big auger.”
“I don’t think it， I know it，” Mars said.
Then another man， one of such slight build and irregular features that he was but a bystander， said， “I’d bet a hundred dollars against a half a ginger cake that she’s got a husband-elect down in Charleston.”
“They can be forgot，” Hob said. “Many has been before.”
Then Hob stared at Inman and surveyed his strict attire. “You look like the law，” he said. “A man courting needs some color about him.”
Inman could see that they would all talk the topic round and round until one or another that day might eventually draw up the nerve to go to her and make a fool of himself. Or else they would insult each other until a pair of them would have to meet down the road and fight. So he touched a finger to his brow and said，“Boys”， and walked away. He went straight over to Sally Swanger and said， “I’d clear an acre of newground for an introduction.”
Sally had on a 18）bonnet with a long bill to it so that she had to step back and cock her head to throw the shade off her eyes and look up at Inman. She grinned at him and put her hand up and touched a 19）pinchbeck 20）brooch at her collar and rubbed her fingers across it. “Notice I’m not even asking who to，” she said.
“Now would be the time，” Inman said， looking to where Ada stood alone， her back to the people， slightly stooped， peering in apparent fascination at the 21）inscription on the gravestone. The bottom foot of her dress was wet from the tall gravegrass and the tail of it had sometime dragged in mud.
Mrs. Swanger took Inman’s black coat sleeve between finger and thumb and pulled him by such slight harness across the yard to Ada. When his sleeve was let go， he raised the hand to take off his hat； then with the other he raked through his hair all around where it was pressed and banded. He swept the hair back at each temple and rubbed his palm from brow to chin to compose his face. Mrs. Swanger cleared her throat， and Ada turned.
“Miss Monroe，” Sally Swanger said， her face bright. “Mr. Inman has expressed a deep interest in becoming acquainted. You’ve met his parents. His people built the chapel，” she added by way of reference， before she walked away.
Ada looked Inman directly in the face， and he realized too late that he had not planned what to say. Before he could formulate a phrase， Ada said， “Yes？”
There was not much patience in her voice， and for some reason Inman found that amusing. He looked off to the side， down toward where the river bent around the hill， and tried to bring down the corners of his mouth. The leaves on trees and 22）rhododendron at the riverbanks were glossed and drooping with the weight of water. The river ran heavy and dark in curves like melted glass where it bowed over hidden rocks and then sank into troughs. Inman held his hat by the crown and for lack of anything to say he looked down into the hole as if， from previous experience， he waited in sincere expectation that something might emerge.
Ada stood a moment looking at his face， and then after a time she looked into the hole of the hat too. Inman caught himself， fearing that the expression on his face was that of a dog sitting at the lip of a groundhog 23）burrow. He looked at Ada， and she turned up her palms and raised an eyebrow to signify a general question.
“You’re free to put your hat back on and say something，” she said.
“It’s just that you’ve been the subject of considerable speculation，” Inman said.
“Like a novelty， is it， speaking to me？”
“No.”
“A challenge， then. Perhaps from that circle of dullards there.”
“Not at all.”
“Well， then， you supply the simile.”
“Like grabbing up a chestnut burr， at least thus far.”
Ada smiled and nodded. She had not figured him to know the word. Then she said，“Tell me this. A woman earlier commented on the recent weather. She called it sheep-killing weather. I’ve been wondering， can’t get it out of my mind. Did she mean weather appropriate for slaughtering sheep or weather foul enough to kill them itself without assistance， perhaps by drowning or pneumonia？”
“The first，” Inman said.
“Well， then， I thank you. You’ve served a useful purpose.”
She turned and walked away to her father. Inman watched her touch Monroe’s arm and say something to him， and they went to the cabriolet and climbed in and wheeled off， fading down the lane between fencerows thicketed with blossoming blackberry canes.
英曼去教堂，完全是为了见识一下艾达。在艾达刚到冷山的那几个星期里，英曼未见其人便先闻其名，听到不少关于她的传言。艾达和她的父亲就像一对愣头青，融入当地社会的速度太慢，很快便成了河边路上许多家庭娱乐的源泉。对大家来说，坐在门廊上，看艾达和门罗乘着马车驶过，或者看着艾达沿大路漫步领略风景，简直就和看戏一样，而她引起的议论，绝不比码头大街剧院上演的一部新剧目少。大家一致认为艾达够漂亮，但她那身查尔斯顿式的装束或华丽的发式，都成了被取笑的目标。如果瞧见她拿着一支开花的钓钟柳枝，对花瓣的颜色赞叹不已，或是用手去碰触曼佗罗叶子的尖端，一些人就会以严肃的口吻说她的脑子肯定有问题，见到钓钟柳都不认识；而另一些人则灿然一笑，心想，她难道真有那么呆，竟然连曼佗罗都要吃？据传言，她走到哪儿都带着笔记本和铅笔，盯上了一个东西——鸟或灌木、杂草、落日、大山——就在纸上勾抹一气，就像她已经糊涂透顶，如果不把重要的东西画下来，她转眼便会抛诸脑后似的。
于是，一个礼拜天的早晨，英曼精心打扮一番——全新的黑色西服、白衬衫、黑领带、黑帽子——出发去教堂，要一睹艾达芳容。时当黑莓花开，一场倒春寒，冷雨连下三天，昨晚才停，但早晨的太阳还没有驱散云层。道道山脊之间，看得到一抹苍穹，阴暗低垂的，毫无色彩层次。路上满是粘脚的泥浆，所以英曼很晚才赶到教堂，坐在靠后的长椅上。已经开始唱圣诗了。不知是谁用新柴在火炉内生火，炉盖周围冒起浓烟，一直升到天棚，然后沿着天花板平铺开来，并悬在那里，如同外面灰色天空的缩影。
英曼只能从一排排的后脑勺中寻找艾达，但这只需片刻，因为她的黑发盘在头上，编成粗大繁复的辫髻，这种新潮发式在山里还是前所未见呢。发髻下洁白的后颈上隐约凸起两条肌肉支撑起头部，之间显现一片黯凹肌肤，长着无法打进发辫的纤细茸毛。在唱圣诗的整个过程中，英曼的目光一直停留在那里，所以不一会儿后，还没等看到艾达的脸，他已情不自禁想伸出两根指尖，去按一按那个神秘的地方。
门罗以讲解刚刚唱过的圣诗为引子，开始他的布道演说。圣诗的词句似乎显示出一种热烈的渴望，向往着终将有一天，人们会沉浸在一个充满爱的海洋之中。但门罗说，如果他们自欺欺人地以为有一天将得到万物之爱，那就是误解了圣诗。其真义是让人们去爱一切造物。总而言之，这是件更加困难的事，而且从会众的反应看，也有些让人惊愕和苦恼。
布道会结束后，男女会众分门走出教堂。被缰绳套住的马匹身上溅满泥浆，一匹匹站着睡着了，马车的轮辐都陷泥里了。人声惊醒马匹，一匹栗色的母马抖动肚皮，发出拍打脏地毯一样的声响。教堂的墓园里充满了泥浆、湿叶子、湿衣裳和淋湿的马匹身上发出的气味。男人们排成行与门罗握手，然后都来到湿漉漉的墓园里，四下转悠，观察天色，看雨是真的停了呢，还是只是歇息一下。一些年纪稍长的人低声谈论着，说门罗的布道论调古怪，缺乏经文依据，又佩服他不为众人欲念所动的顽固劲头。
未婚男子聚成一圈，靴子和裤脚上都溅满了泥浆。他们聊的更像是周六晚上的话题，而非礼拜天上午的正经事。所有人都不时朝站在墓园边上的艾达瞄一眼，她看上去是那么与众不同，美丽，却又极不自然。其他人全都穿着毛料衣服抵御湿寒，艾达却身穿一件乳白色的亚麻裙子，领口、袖口和裙摆上还镶着蕾丝花边。似乎她选择什么衣服，主要是根据月份，而不是天气。艾达双臂环抱胸前，一些年长的妇女走过去跟她讲了几句话，接着是一阵双方都有些不知所措的沉默，随后她们就离开了。英曼注意到，每当有人朝她走来，艾达就向后退一步，直至被一块独立战争老兵的墓碑挡住退路。
“如果我去告诉她我的名字，你们觉得她会不会理我？”迪拉德家的一个小伙子问。他来教堂的目的与英曼完全一样。
“我摸不准，”英曼说。
“你根本不知道该怎么追求她，”霍布·玛尔斯对迪拉德说。“还是看我的吧，”玛尔斯身量不高，肩宽背厚。马甲的口袋里鼓鼓囊囊地装着老大的一块怀表，银链子一直垂到裤腰，上面还悬着一枚涡卷花纹的链坠。
迪拉德说：“你以为你什么都行。”
“不是以为，是事实，”玛尔斯答道。
这时另一个人说：“我敢拿一百美元赌半块姜饼，她肯定在查尔斯顿已经有了意中人。”此人身材极为干巴，五官极不端正，因此只有干瞪眼的份儿。
“意中人可以忘记，”霍布说道。“这有什么可稀奇的。”
然后他盯着英曼，上下打量了一番他笔挺的衣服，说：“你穿得太死板了，追姑娘的爷们儿得显出点性格。”
英曼很清楚，他们会一直绕着这个话题谈个不休，直至某人当天终于鼓足勇气，去艾达那里出乖露丑。要不然他们会互相奚落个没完，直到某两个人动了真火，跑到外面的路上干上一架。所以他拿手指挠了挠眉毛，说了声“再会”就走开了。他径直走到莎莉·斯万哲跟前说：“如果能给我引见一下，我愿意帮你开一亩荒地。”
莎莉戴着一顶宽边软帽，眼睛全被挡住了，所以她得后退一步，仰起头来看着英曼。她对英曼微微一笑，抬起手，在金色铜领针上来回摸了摸。“你看我都不用问对方是谁，”她说。
“现在时机正好，”英曼一边说，眼睛一边望向艾达。她一人背对大家而立，身子微屈，很明显正津津有味地读着墓碑上的铭文。裙脚已经被高高的墓草打湿，后摆不知什么时候还在泥里拖过。
斯万哲太太用手指捻着他黑色上衣的袖子，轻轻把他牵上，穿过园子，来到艾达旁边。等英曼的袖子被放开，他抬手取下帽子，另一只手前后左右理了理被压平的头发，把头发从两鬓捋到脑后，然后手掌从额头到下巴一抹，让表情回复自然。斯万哲太太清了清嗓子，艾达转过身来。
“门罗小姐，” 莎莉·斯万哲打了声招呼，脸上带着灿烂的笑容。“英曼先生非常希望能有幸和你结识。你已经见过他的父母。这座教堂就是他的家人建造的，”莎莉走开前顺便告诉艾达，让她心里有个数。
艾达转过眼睛直视着英曼，他这才意识到自己竟然没准备要说些什么。不待他琢磨出一句话来，艾达说道：“什么事？”
她的语气并不怎么耐烦，不知为什么，这让英曼觉得很有趣。他转头看向远处河水绕过山脚的地方，尽力不让嘴角翘起来。河岸上，树上的叶子和杜鹃花被雨水打得叶子低垂，闪动着鲜亮的光泽。回旋处水流阴暗凝重，就像融化的玻璃浆，折身淌过暗石，沉入低处。英曼手托帽顶，由于一时不知该说什么，只好死盯着帽洞，好像根据从前的经验，他知道将有什么东西打里面冒出来，正诚心诚意地等着。
艾达对着他的脸看了一会儿，然后也向帽兜里瞧去。英曼控制住自己，唯恐刚才自己脸上的表情像一只守在土拨鼠地洞边上的狗。他抬眼看着艾达，她双掌向上一翻，挑起一边眉毛，表示不知所以然。
“你现在可以把帽子戴上说点什么了，”她说。
“主要是大家都对你很好奇，”英曼说。
“觉得跟我说话像件新鲜事儿，对吗？”
“不是。”
“那么就像一种挑战？可能是那边那几个呆瓜刺激你来的。”
“根本不是。”
“那究竟如何，你自己做个比喻吧。”
“像抓一个扎手的毛栗，至少到目前为止是这样。”
艾达笑着点了点头，没料到他知道“比喻”这个词。然后她说：“问你一个事儿。刚才一个女人说到近来的天气，她说这是‘杀羊天’。我心里一直在想，她说的是这种天气适合杀羊，还是说糟糕的天气本身就能让羊死掉，比如淹死或让它们得肺炎？”
“是前一种，”英曼说。
“哦，是这样，那么谢了。你帮了我一个忙。”
她转身向父亲走去。英曼看见她扶着门罗的胳膊对他说了些什么，然后他们登车上路，在两排开满了黑莓花的篱笆中间的小路上，渐行渐远。
So one Sunday morning Inman dressed himself carefully—in a new black suit， white shirt， black tie， black hat—and set out for church to view Ada. It was a time of blackberry winter and a chill rain had fallen without pause for three days， and though the rain had stopped sometime in the night， the morning sun had not yet burned through the clouds， and the slash of sky visible between the ridgelines was dark and low and utterly without feature. The roads were nothing but sucking mud， and so Inman had arrived late and taken a seat at a rear 6）pew. There was already a 7）hymn going. Someone had lit a greenwood fire in the stove. It smoked from around the top plate， and the smoke rose to the ceiling and spread flat against the beadboards and hung there grey like a miniature of the actual sky.
Inman had but the back of her head to find Ada by， yet that took only a moment since her dark hair was done up in a heavy and intricate plait of such recent fashion that it was not then known in the mountains. Below where her hair was twisted up， two faint cords of muscle ran up under the skin on either side of her white neck to hold her head on. Between them a scoop， a shaded hollow of skin. Curls too fine to be worked up into the plait. All through the hymn， Inman’s eyes rested there， so that after awhile， even before he saw her face， all he wanted was to press two fingertips against that mystery place. Monroe began the sermon by commenting on the hymn they had all just mouthed. Its words seemed to look with passionate yearning to a time when they would be immersed in an ocean of love. But Monroe preached that they were misunderstanding the song if they fooled themselves into thinking all creation would someday love them. What it really required was for them to love all creation. That was altogether a more difficult thing and， to judge by the congregation’s reaction， somewhat shocking and distressful.
When the service 8）concluded， the men and women left the church by their separate doors. Muddy horses stood asleep in their traces， their rigs and traps behind them 9）mired up to the 10）spokes in mud. The voices of the people awoke them， and one chestnut 11）mare shook her 12）hide with the sound of flapping a dirty carpet. The 13）churchyard was filled with the smell of mud and wet leaves and wet clothes and wet horses. The men lined up to shake hands with Monroe， and then they all milled about the wet churchyard visiting and speculating on whether the rain had quit or was just resting. Some of the elders talked in low voices about the queerness of Monroe’s sermon and its lack of Scripture and about how they admired his stubbornness in the face of other people’s desires.
The unmarried men wadded up together， standing with their muddy boots and spattered pant cuffs in a circle. Their talk had more of Saturday night to it than Sunday morning， and all of them periodically cut their eyes to where Ada stood at the edge of the graveyard looking altogether foreign and beautiful and utterly awkward. Everyone else wore woolens against the damp chill， but Ada had on an ivory-colored linen dress with lace at the collar and sleeves and hem. She seemed to have chosen it more by the calendar than the weather. She stood holding her elbows. The older women came to her and said things and then there were 14）knotty pauses and then they went away. Inman noted that every time she was approached， Ada took a step back until she fetched up against the 15）headstone of a man who had fought in the Revolution.
“If I went and told her my name， reckon she’d say ought to me back？” said a Dillard man who had come to church for precisely the same reason Inman had.
“I couldn’t say，” Inman said.
“You’d not begin to know where to start 16）courting her，” Hob Mars said to Dillard. “Best leave that to me.” Mars was shortish and big through the chest. He had a fat watch that 17）pooched out his vest pocket and a silver chain that ran to his pant waist and a scrolled fob hanging from the chain. Dillard said， “You think you bore with a mighty big auger.”
“I don’t think it， I know it，” Mars said.
Then another man， one of such slight build and irregular features that he was but a bystander， said， “I’d bet a hundred dollars against a half a ginger cake that she’s got a husband-elect down in Charleston.”
“They can be forgot，” Hob said. “Many has been before.”
Then Hob stared at Inman and surveyed his strict attire. “You look like the law，” he said. “A man courting needs some color about him.”
Inman could see that they would all talk the topic round and round until one or another that day might eventually draw up the nerve to go to her and make a fool of himself. Or else they would insult each other until a pair of them would have to meet down the road and fight. So he touched a finger to his brow and said，“Boys”， and walked away. He went straight over to Sally Swanger and said， “I’d clear an acre of newground for an introduction.”
Sally had on a 18）bonnet with a long bill to it so that she had to step back and cock her head to throw the shade off her eyes and look up at Inman. She grinned at him and put her hand up and touched a 19）pinchbeck 20）brooch at her collar and rubbed her fingers across it. “Notice I’m not even asking who to，” she said.
“Now would be the time，” Inman said， looking to where Ada stood alone， her back to the people， slightly stooped， peering in apparent fascination at the 21）inscription on the gravestone. The bottom foot of her dress was wet from the tall gravegrass and the tail of it had sometime dragged in mud.
Mrs. Swanger took Inman’s black coat sleeve between finger and thumb and pulled him by such slight harness across the yard to Ada. When his sleeve was let go， he raised the hand to take off his hat； then with the other he raked through his hair all around where it was pressed and banded. He swept the hair back at each temple and rubbed his palm from brow to chin to compose his face. Mrs. Swanger cleared her throat， and Ada turned.
“Miss Monroe，” Sally Swanger said， her face bright. “Mr. Inman has expressed a deep interest in becoming acquainted. You’ve met his parents. His people built the chapel，” she added by way of reference， before she walked away.
Ada looked Inman directly in the face， and he realized too late that he had not planned what to say. Before he could formulate a phrase， Ada said， “Yes？”
There was not much patience in her voice， and for some reason Inman found that amusing. He looked off to the side， down toward where the river bent around the hill， and tried to bring down the corners of his mouth. The leaves on trees and 22）rhododendron at the riverbanks were glossed and drooping with the weight of water. The river ran heavy and dark in curves like melted glass where it bowed over hidden rocks and then sank into troughs. Inman held his hat by the crown and for lack of anything to say he looked down into the hole as if， from previous experience， he waited in sincere expectation that something might emerge.
Ada stood a moment looking at his face， and then after a time she looked into the hole of the hat too. Inman caught himself， fearing that the expression on his face was that of a dog sitting at the lip of a groundhog 23）burrow. He looked at Ada， and she turned up her palms and raised an eyebrow to signify a general question.
“You’re free to put your hat back on and say something，” she said.
“It’s just that you’ve been the subject of considerable speculation，” Inman said.
“Like a novelty， is it， speaking to me？”
“No.”
“A challenge， then. Perhaps from that circle of dullards there.”
“Not at all.”
“Well， then， you supply the simile.”
“Like grabbing up a chestnut burr， at least thus far.”
Ada smiled and nodded. She had not figured him to know the word. Then she said，“Tell me this. A woman earlier commented on the recent weather. She called it sheep-killing weather. I’ve been wondering， can’t get it out of my mind. Did she mean weather appropriate for slaughtering sheep or weather foul enough to kill them itself without assistance， perhaps by drowning or pneumonia？”
“The first，” Inman said.
“Well， then， I thank you. You’ve served a useful purpose.”
She turned and walked away to her father. Inman watched her touch Monroe’s arm and say something to him， and they went to the cabriolet and climbed in and wheeled off， fading down the lane between fencerows thicketed with blossoming blackberry canes.
英曼去教堂，完全是为了见识一下艾达。在艾达刚到冷山的那几个星期里，英曼未见其人便先闻其名，听到不少关于她的传言。艾达和她的父亲就像一对愣头青，融入当地社会的速度太慢，很快便成了河边路上许多家庭娱乐的源泉。对大家来说，坐在门廊上，看艾达和门罗乘着马车驶过，或者看着艾达沿大路漫步领略风景，简直就和看戏一样，而她引起的议论，绝不比码头大街剧院上演的一部新剧目少。大家一致认为艾达够漂亮，但她那身查尔斯顿式的装束或华丽的发式，都成了被取笑的目标。如果瞧见她拿着一支开花的钓钟柳枝，对花瓣的颜色赞叹不已，或是用手去碰触曼佗罗叶子的尖端，一些人就会以严肃的口吻说她的脑子肯定有问题，见到钓钟柳都不认识；而另一些人则灿然一笑，心想，她难道真有那么呆，竟然连曼佗罗都要吃？据传言，她走到哪儿都带着笔记本和铅笔，盯上了一个东西——鸟或灌木、杂草、落日、大山——就在纸上勾抹一气，就像她已经糊涂透顶，如果不把重要的东西画下来，她转眼便会抛诸脑后似的。
于是，一个礼拜天的早晨，英曼精心打扮一番——全新的黑色西服、白衬衫、黑领带、黑帽子——出发去教堂，要一睹艾达芳容。时当黑莓花开，一场倒春寒，冷雨连下三天，昨晚才停，但早晨的太阳还没有驱散云层。道道山脊之间，看得到一抹苍穹，阴暗低垂的，毫无色彩层次。路上满是粘脚的泥浆，所以英曼很晚才赶到教堂，坐在靠后的长椅上。已经开始唱圣诗了。不知是谁用新柴在火炉内生火，炉盖周围冒起浓烟，一直升到天棚，然后沿着天花板平铺开来，并悬在那里，如同外面灰色天空的缩影。
英曼只能从一排排的后脑勺中寻找艾达，但这只需片刻，因为她的黑发盘在头上，编成粗大繁复的辫髻，这种新潮发式在山里还是前所未见呢。发髻下洁白的后颈上隐约凸起两条肌肉支撑起头部，之间显现一片黯凹肌肤，长着无法打进发辫的纤细茸毛。在唱圣诗的整个过程中，英曼的目光一直停留在那里，所以不一会儿后，还没等看到艾达的脸，他已情不自禁想伸出两根指尖，去按一按那个神秘的地方。
门罗以讲解刚刚唱过的圣诗为引子，开始他的布道演说。圣诗的词句似乎显示出一种热烈的渴望，向往着终将有一天，人们会沉浸在一个充满爱的海洋之中。但门罗说，如果他们自欺欺人地以为有一天将得到万物之爱，那就是误解了圣诗。其真义是让人们去爱一切造物。总而言之，这是件更加困难的事，而且从会众的反应看，也有些让人惊愕和苦恼。
布道会结束后，男女会众分门走出教堂。被缰绳套住的马匹身上溅满泥浆，一匹匹站着睡着了，马车的轮辐都陷泥里了。人声惊醒马匹，一匹栗色的母马抖动肚皮，发出拍打脏地毯一样的声响。教堂的墓园里充满了泥浆、湿叶子、湿衣裳和淋湿的马匹身上发出的气味。男人们排成行与门罗握手，然后都来到湿漉漉的墓园里，四下转悠，观察天色，看雨是真的停了呢，还是只是歇息一下。一些年纪稍长的人低声谈论着，说门罗的布道论调古怪，缺乏经文依据，又佩服他不为众人欲念所动的顽固劲头。
未婚男子聚成一圈，靴子和裤脚上都溅满了泥浆。他们聊的更像是周六晚上的话题，而非礼拜天上午的正经事。所有人都不时朝站在墓园边上的艾达瞄一眼，她看上去是那么与众不同，美丽，却又极不自然。其他人全都穿着毛料衣服抵御湿寒，艾达却身穿一件乳白色的亚麻裙子，领口、袖口和裙摆上还镶着蕾丝花边。似乎她选择什么衣服，主要是根据月份，而不是天气。艾达双臂环抱胸前，一些年长的妇女走过去跟她讲了几句话，接着是一阵双方都有些不知所措的沉默，随后她们就离开了。英曼注意到，每当有人朝她走来，艾达就向后退一步，直至被一块独立战争老兵的墓碑挡住退路。
“如果我去告诉她我的名字，你们觉得她会不会理我？”迪拉德家的一个小伙子问。他来教堂的目的与英曼完全一样。
“我摸不准，”英曼说。
“你根本不知道该怎么追求她，”霍布·玛尔斯对迪拉德说。“还是看我的吧，”玛尔斯身量不高，肩宽背厚。马甲的口袋里鼓鼓囊囊地装着老大的一块怀表，银链子一直垂到裤腰，上面还悬着一枚涡卷花纹的链坠。
迪拉德说：“你以为你什么都行。”
“不是以为，是事实，”玛尔斯答道。
这时另一个人说：“我敢拿一百美元赌半块姜饼，她肯定在查尔斯顿已经有了意中人。”此人身材极为干巴，五官极不端正，因此只有干瞪眼的份儿。
“意中人可以忘记，”霍布说道。“这有什么可稀奇的。”
然后他盯着英曼，上下打量了一番他笔挺的衣服，说：“你穿得太死板了，追姑娘的爷们儿得显出点性格。”
英曼很清楚，他们会一直绕着这个话题谈个不休，直至某人当天终于鼓足勇气，去艾达那里出乖露丑。要不然他们会互相奚落个没完，直到某两个人动了真火，跑到外面的路上干上一架。所以他拿手指挠了挠眉毛，说了声“再会”就走开了。他径直走到莎莉·斯万哲跟前说：“如果能给我引见一下，我愿意帮你开一亩荒地。”
莎莉戴着一顶宽边软帽，眼睛全被挡住了，所以她得后退一步，仰起头来看着英曼。她对英曼微微一笑，抬起手，在金色铜领针上来回摸了摸。“你看我都不用问对方是谁，”她说。
“现在时机正好，”英曼一边说，眼睛一边望向艾达。她一人背对大家而立，身子微屈，很明显正津津有味地读着墓碑上的铭文。裙脚已经被高高的墓草打湿，后摆不知什么时候还在泥里拖过。
斯万哲太太用手指捻着他黑色上衣的袖子，轻轻把他牵上，穿过园子，来到艾达旁边。等英曼的袖子被放开，他抬手取下帽子，另一只手前后左右理了理被压平的头发，把头发从两鬓捋到脑后，然后手掌从额头到下巴一抹，让表情回复自然。斯万哲太太清了清嗓子，艾达转过身来。
“门罗小姐，” 莎莉·斯万哲打了声招呼，脸上带着灿烂的笑容。“英曼先生非常希望能有幸和你结识。你已经见过他的父母。这座教堂就是他的家人建造的，”莎莉走开前顺便告诉艾达，让她心里有个数。
艾达转过眼睛直视着英曼，他这才意识到自己竟然没准备要说些什么。不待他琢磨出一句话来，艾达说道：“什么事？”
她的语气并不怎么耐烦，不知为什么，这让英曼觉得很有趣。他转头看向远处河水绕过山脚的地方，尽力不让嘴角翘起来。河岸上，树上的叶子和杜鹃花被雨水打得叶子低垂，闪动着鲜亮的光泽。回旋处水流阴暗凝重，就像融化的玻璃浆，折身淌过暗石，沉入低处。英曼手托帽顶，由于一时不知该说什么，只好死盯着帽洞，好像根据从前的经验，他知道将有什么东西打里面冒出来，正诚心诚意地等着。
艾达对着他的脸看了一会儿，然后也向帽兜里瞧去。英曼控制住自己，唯恐刚才自己脸上的表情像一只守在土拨鼠地洞边上的狗。他抬眼看着艾达，她双掌向上一翻，挑起一边眉毛，表示不知所以然。
“你现在可以把帽子戴上说点什么了，”她说。
“主要是大家都对你很好奇，”英曼说。
“觉得跟我说话像件新鲜事儿，对吗？”
“不是。”
“那么就像一种挑战？可能是那边那几个呆瓜刺激你来的。”
“根本不是。”
“那究竟如何，你自己做个比喻吧。”
“像抓一个扎手的毛栗，至少到目前为止是这样。”
艾达笑着点了点头，没料到他知道“比喻”这个词。然后她说：“问你一个事儿。刚才一个女人说到近来的天气，她说这是‘杀羊天’。我心里一直在想，她说的是这种天气适合杀羊，还是说糟糕的天气本身就能让羊死掉，比如淹死或让它们得肺炎？”
“是前一种，”英曼说。
“哦，是这样，那么谢了。你帮了我一个忙。”
她转身向父亲走去。英曼看见她扶着门罗的胳膊对他说了些什么，然后他们登车上路，在两排开满了黑莓花的篱笆中间的小路上，渐行渐远。