One person later jumped into the Horseshoe Falls.No one knew when he danced, nor did anyone mention it.But it was about 6:15 in the morning when he came into the eyes of the gatekeeper of the Goat Island Suspension Bridge.The gatekeeper should be the first passerby of the day. At that time, can I recognize it?That's not sure.But in retrospect, I should have known him.If I'm not mistaken, I saved him before. how early!The flowing water curtain composed of water vapor, rain, and mist continuously plummets into the Niagara Grand Canyon from a height of 55 meters. , it should be dawn by now.If the current season had not been infected by the turbulent humid air, it would have been early summer already, like a sharp steel file being corroded in the lungs.

The doorman reasoned that the hurried man, with his absent-minded and queer manner, must have come from some quaint stately hotel on Scenic Avenue, and had come directly across Scenic Park.The gatekeeper noted that the man had a "young but old-looking, lean and pale face", a "pale wax complexion", and "deep-socketed but piercing eyes".There was a restless student air about him in the gold-rimmed glasses.He was six feet tall, tall and thin, "slightly stooped, as if he had been stooping to carry a heavy load all his life." It seemed that he was walking deliberately, but aimlessly, as if someone was thinking about it. Call his name from the dark.He was wearing old-fashioned dark clothes.As long as you come to Niagara Falls for sightseeing, you will not dress like this.He was dressed in black, his jacket was unbuttoned, revealing a white cotton shirt underneath, the collar button was open, and the zipper of his trousers was stuck, "as if the poor guy was in too much hurry to dress in the dark." His black leather shoes matched his clothes and were polished. "Just these shoes, either for a wedding or a funeral." His ankles were pale and shiny, and he was barefoot.

No socks!With such tasteful shoes.That must be a gift. The gatekeeper shouted, "Hello!" but the man simply ignored him.He was not only blind but also deaf, and in short did not hear.You could tell that his nerves were high, like a cannonball about to explode: he was determined to go somewhere, and he was moving fast. The gatekeeper raised his voice and yelled, "Hey, sir, the ticket is 50 cents," but the man still didn't respond.With a kind of hopeless arrogance, he seemed oblivious to the existence of the tollbooth.He was almost running now, not very gracefully, swaying back and forth as if the drawbridge had tipped beneath him.The suspension bridge was only five feet from the white-capped torrent, and the bridge's supporting floor was wet and dangerous.The man clung to the railing to maintain his balance while trying to move forward.The smooth sole slips underfoot.He doesn't look like he's used to doing physical work.The shiny round glasses almost slipped off his face, but fortunately he leaned on the suspension bridge and pushed them on the bridge of his nose.His gray-black hair thinned at the top of his head to reveal a pale bald patch of languid, damp curls that swayed in the wind before his eyes.

Just then, the gatekeeper decided to leave the tollbooth and go after the anxious man.The gatekeeper yelled, "Sir, hello, sir!" He had encountered suicides in the past.Too many times, he can't bear to look back.He has worked in the Great Falls Scenic Area for 30 years, and his qualifications are very old.But in his early 60s, he couldn't catch up with the younger man.He cried out imploringly, "Sir! No! Damn it, I beg you—don't!" He should have dialed the emergency number, which was in a toll booth, but it was too late to turn back. The young people standing on Goat Island neither stopped to lean on the railing to look at the river on the coast of Canada, nor did they stop to meditate on this turbulent and spectacular scene like other tourists.He didn't even stop to wipe his dripping face or brush the straggly hair from his eyes.Driven by the magic of the Great Falls.No mortal can stop him.

But you have to intervene, or try.No man -- or woman -- should ever be allowed to commit the unforgivable crime of committing suicide. The gatekeeper, short of breath and dazed, staggered after him, calling to the young man, who was walking straight on to Terrapin's Point, which stood at the southern end of the island above the Horseshoe Falls. .This is the most dangerous corner of Goat Island, but also the most beautiful and charming.This is where the rapids get turbulent, with white foam rushing 15 feet into the air.There is hardly anything to see.Nightmarish din and chaos.The Horseshoe Falls is an extremely wide torrent, with a banner of up to half a mile, pouring into the canyon at a flow of 3,000 tons per second.The air roared and shook.The ground beneath his feet trembled.The surface of the earth seems to be falling apart, falling apart into countless pieces, falling into the hot core of the earth.Time seemed to freeze.Time seemed to have exploded.It's as if you've reached the very heart of everything, the place of light, rumble, and madness.Here all your arteries, veins, nerves of the most precise and perfect detail go mad for a moment.Your abode, the brain - which is also one of your storage rooms - will be crushed into its chemical constituents: brain cells, molecules and atoms.All shadows and remnants of memory will disappear.

Perhaps this is the promise of the Great Falls?mystery? As we loathe ourselves.Humanity.This is the way of salvation, and only a few have such insight. The gatekeeper was about 30 yards away from the young man and saw him put a foot on the lowest level of the railing.The foot touched tentatively on the smooth wrought-iron railing.But the man's hands gripped the top rail firmly, fists clenched. "Come on, sir! Damn—" The gatekeeper's voice was swallowed by the waterfall.Was spat back coldly. He himself almost broke down.This is his last summer on Goat Island.He was heartbroken, his throbbing heart constantly supplying oxygen to his dazed brain.His lungs hurt, too, not only from the sting of the river's swell, but from the strange metallic smell in the air that came from the industrial cities sprawling east and north of Great Falls. It is the place where the gatekeeper lives all his life.You are exhausted.You have seen too much.Every breath hurt.

Later, the gatekeeper swore that he saw the young man make a farewell gesture just moments before he threw himself: a salute of contempt, a salute of defiant defiance, like a clever and reckless schoolboy A provocation to the elders; however, this is also sincere, just like you are facing a stranger, a witness, whom you have no intention of harming, and you hope to dispel the pain in his heart because he failed to save you and watched you die. I feel a little ashamed. In the next instant, the young man, the man who had caught the gatekeeper's undivided attention, was simply—disappeared.

With a heartbeat, it disappeared.Right above the Horseshoe Falls. This isn't the first poor bastard I've seen, but God bless me, let him be the last. The distraught gatekeeper returned to the ticket booth and called the Niagara County emergency number at 6:26 a.m., about an hour after dawn. 1 "No, God, it's not like that." harm.humiliation.Unspeakable shame.Not grief, not yet.The degree of shock is far greater than grief. At the Rainbow Hotel in Niagara Falls, New York, Aaliyah found the mysterious note left by her husband, leaning against a mirror in their honeymoon suite; by then, they had been married just 21 hours.Just in the afternoon, she got the news from the Niagara Falls police that a man who looked exactly like her husband Gilbert Erskine had jumped into the Horseshoe Falls in the early morning of the same day and had been swept away by the water—“disappeared in an instant no trace so far”—should have rushed beyond the Devil’s Hole rapids; Alia had not been married less than twenty-eight hours when she heard the name of this scenic natural area below Great Falls.

These are the harsh realities. "My bride, I became a widow in one day." Alia said loudly, with an unbelievable tone.The daughter of a respectable Presbyterian minister, surely she was supposed to be related to God as much as to secular authority? Suddenly Alia punched herself in the cheek with both fists. She wanted to hit herself and turn her eyes blue from too much watching. "God, help me! You can't be so cruel--can you?" no i will.Stupid woman, of course I would.Who are you to live to see my justice fail? Answered so quickly!A wave of taunts echoed so clearly in Alia's mind that she almost thought the strange sympathizers around her could hear them all.

But there is consolation: Until her husband Gilbert Erskine's body was found and identified in the river, his death was hypothetical and unofficial. Alia was still not a widow, she was still a bride. 2 ...waking up that morning, she realized the sudden and indisputable fact that she would spend her entire life alone in the empty room, but that day had begun on her wedding night.Although she was no longer Miss Alia Juliet Littlerear but Mrs. Gilbert Erskine, she woke up alone.She was no longer the unmarried daughter of the Reverend Mr. Reverend and Mrs. Thaddeus Littrell, who lived in Troy, N.Y., and was a teacher of piano and voice at the Troy School of Music, but was the bride of Gilbert Erskine, recently ordained pastor of the first Presbyterian church in Palmyra, New York.

The ringing of wedding bells has been tracked hundreds of miles down here.The noisy voice kept ringing in her ears.Her headache was unbearable, and her brain was buzzing as if being squeezed by pliers.She was disgusted at the sight of cutlery, as if her intestines were rotting.Lying in this strange bed, breathing the smell of damp linen, damp flesh, and despair.Where is this, where is she?What's the name of the hotel he brought her to stay in?The honeymoon paradise, Niagara Falls is the honeymoon capital of the world, and a frenzied thought in her head made her unable to think.She knew so little about her husband so shortly after her marriage, but she seemed to believe (Alia talked to herself like a terrified child telling herself a story to escape harm) that Gilbert was just She slipped off the bed quietly and is now in the bathroom.She lay stiffly on the bed, trying to listen to the movement of the faucet, the sound of the bath water flowing, or the sound of the toilet flushing, even when her sensitive nerves abandoned hearing, she was so eager to hear such things sound.Embarrassment, embarrassment, shyness for such intimacy is something she has never had before, and the same is true for intimacy after marriage.This "marriage bed".There is nowhere to hide.His pungent hair tonic collides with her coy lily of the valley cologne.Before their marriage, Alia and Gilbert would never open up, laugh, or nickname Gilbert as Jill, but they decided to maintain a respectful, friendly, happy relationship.Finally they walked into the sacred palace of marriage, and at this moment, Alia suddenly woke up from a trance dream, and she realized that there was something wrong between them. Not anymore, he's gone.he won't die.Where is it? Damn it!She was still a newly married bride, still shy.This is how the outside world sees her, and the outside world is not wrong.When she first signed Mrs. Alia Erskine at the hotel reception, two red clouds flew from her cheeks.She's still a virgin, a 29-year-old virgin.Don't know anything about men, see them as other.She let her painful body lie stranded on the bed, and she didn't even dare to reach out to touch the space outside the big bed, for fear of touching him. She didn't want him to misunderstand what she meant by reaching out to touch. She would pretty much still call him "Gilbert."None of Erskine's relatives she had ever met called him "Jill."Maybe his friends at Albany Seminary would call him "Jill," but that was a side of him that Arya couldn't see and didn't want to know.It was like discussing religion with him: he had been ordained a priest at a young age, and faith itself was his area of ​​expertise, not hers.For Aaliyah, his fiancée who had just become his wife, it seemed a bit too intimate to call someone like him by such an affectionate nickname. He always called her curtly and shyly, "Aaliyah, darling." And she called her "Gilbert," but all the time she kept thinking of some tender moment, like a Hollywood movie. In the exact same romance as in the movie, she also starts calling him "baby" — or even "Jill, baby." Unless everything changes.That's just a possibility. On the wedding day, she had a glass of champagne, and she had a glass, or two, of champagne the night before in the hotel room.That's all, but she's never been so drunk, so drunk.Her eyelashes were glued together and her mouth was sour.It was unthinkable that she could fall asleep in such an ugly coma, with her mouth open and closed like a fish. Does she snore?Did Gilbert hear that? She tried to hear his voice in the bathroom.The old sharp sound mixed with the rumbling sound, but it was a distant sound.But Gilbert must be in the bathroom.He probably managed not to make a sound, either.One night he was in the bathroom the entire time, masking his noise.Covering up by running water... maybe it was Aaliyah who turned on both taps in the sink in desperation?Hidden in her ivory satin pajamas, Alia trembled and suppressed, and finally the helpless emotion finally broke out, and she buried her head in sobs. do not.Stop thinking about it.No one will force you. What surprised Alia was that just the evening before, it was already June, and the air was so cold and humid.The air is filled with humidity, and the sun in the west looks like the shadow of a street lamp hanging upside down in the water.Arya was wearing a short-sleeved rayon dress, her arms folded over her shoulders, trembling in the wind.Gilbert frowned, facing the river, not noticing his wife. Gilbert had driven all the way from Troy, hundreds of miles across the east;He told Aaliyah that he would be nervous about being a passenger in his own car, a 1949 Packard sedan with a polished black body.Along the way he kept saying sorry to Aaliyah, turning away from her and blowing his nose loudly.His skin was flushed, as if he had a fever.Alia murmured several times that he hoped he hadn't caught a cold from his own mother, now her mother-in-law, Mrs Erskine, who had been fidgety throughout the party. Mrs. Erskine told Alia Gilbert that she had a sore throat, easy upper respiratory infections, and sinus headaches.He also has a "picky" stomach and can't tolerate spicy food or "upset emotions." Mrs Erskine embraced Alia, and she surrendered coldly in the old woman's plump arms.Mrs Erskine begged Aaliyah to call her "Mother" as Gilbert did. Aaliyah whispered yes: All right, Mother Erskine. Think about it, call her mom!So what became of me and Gilbert, brother and sister? Alia worked hard, she was determined to be a perfect bride and perfect daughter-in-law. There was a clatter of church bells.It's Sunday morning! Staying in a strange bed, in a strange city, with a lost heart. A woman's voice babbled in her ear, and the smell of talcum powder on Erskine's mother's chest wafted into her nostrils.If you've never had anything stronger than apple juice before, Alia, do you feel the need to have another glass of champagne? —Besides, you've already had a drink? This one might not be Gilbert's mother, but Aaliyah's own mother.Or maybe it was the two of them, just coming at different times. A bride trembling with laughter.A satin dress, trimmed with Chantilly lace, with overly embellished mother-of-pearl buttons, a gauze veil, and lace gloves reaching to the elbow, so that when they were taken off after the party, the jewels on them The ornaments left V-shaped marks on her sensitive skin like strange rashes.The wedding reception was held in Littrell's big, dark house, a brick building next to the church, and the bride looked nervous, always raising the champagne glass to her lips.She ate so little that her hands shook so badly that she dropped a forkful of wedding cake on the floor.Her eyes are small, in the shape of apricot fruit, patterned with crushed pebbles, always shrouded in a layer of mist, as if a little allergic.She left the table several times to go to the bathroom.She wants to make her neon-bright lipstick more intense; she powders her nose so frequently that if you get close, you can see the dots of powder on it.Though she tried to be elegant, she was as clumsy and ugly as a stork.Protruding elbows, hooked nose.You would never imagine her as an accomplished singer, her voice was harsh and hard to hear.However, some people still praised Aaliyah as "very attractive"-a "beautiful bride".But look at her Dixie Cup① boobs!She was fully aware that everyone was staring at her breasts through the delicate Chantilly lace, and they were sympathetic to her.She also knew perfectly well that everyone was sympathetic to Gilbert Erskine for marrying such a spinster. Would you like another glass of champagne? She politely declined.Or, maybe she took it.Just took a few sips. Mrs Littrell, the mother of the bride, looked relieved and anxious, she gave Aaliyah a set of corsets, yeah, it seems strange for the bride, the underwear is the smallest size 32 B cup bust, 22' waist and 32' hips, yes, but this is a wedding, the most important moment of your life.This underwear set has a garter to go with your thinnest pair of stockings. Alya laughed.Arya snatched something, snatched a piece of silk from the frightened seamstress, and blew her nose on it. Although she obeyed as a matter of course.Alia really shouldn't have disobeyed Mrs. Littrell with such female etiquette. Later, on the morning of the wedding day, Mrs. Littrell and the seamstress dressed her, and she prayed silently in her heart: Good God, don't let my socks hang down at the ankles, and don't show anywhere. . Then, when the wedding began, she prayed silently again: Good God, don't make me sweat.I know I'm starting to sweat, I feel it.Don't let the half-moon bra holders under the armpits show.It's in this beautiful dress.I beg you, God! As far as Alia knew, these prayers of the girl had been answered. Her energy is gradually returning.She forced herself to whisper, "Gilbert?".The sound was like that of a sleepy murmur to one's lover during an early morning walk. "Gilbert, where are you?" no answer. She squinted and stared beside her, and what she saw was: no one was lying next to her on the bed. A sunken pillow.Crumpled linen pillowcase.One sheet was folded back, as if someone had done it on purpose.But no one. Alia forced her eyes open.Oh! A ceramic clock made in Germany stood on the mantelpiece that ran through the room, and its shiny gilt numerals meant the unbearable minutes, but they meant nothing to Alia's squinting eyes.The hands of the clock reached 7:10.The mist outside the hotel windows was lifting, so it looked like morning instead of dusk. Well, Alia didn't lose the day. And never lose her husband.Not so fast! If Gilbert wasn't in the bathroom, he must be somewhere in the hotel.Gilbert let everyone know he was up early.Alya guessed he must be downstairs in the lobby, with its Victorian black paneled walls, leather settee, and gleaming marble floor; Park and not far from the Niagara River and Falls.He was probably frowning through the Niagara Gazette and the Buffalo Intelligence Flash.It's also possible that he was flipping through guidebooks, maps, and booklets bearing the large headline "The Great Falls at Niagara—One of the Seven Wonders of the World," while holding the monogram that Alia gave him as a birthday present ② Mark with a silver pen. He is waiting for me.Waiting for me to slip my hand into his hand quietly. Alia recalled her own young husband.His serious and determined look is very attractive.Glittering lenses, the nostrils are unusually deep and broad against the long bridge of the nose.Alia would smile at him and greet him with a kiss on the cheek.As if they've been doing this for a long time, casual and intimate.But Gilbert always dispelled the atmosphere, rose awkwardly quickly, knocked the wicker table, spilled the coffee, and was never brought up to sit still in the lady's presence. "Alia! Good morning, honey." "Sorry I'm so late. I hope..." "Waiter, please have another cup of coffee." The two sat side by side in a beautiful white branch rocking chair.A couple on their honeymoon.They were one of hundreds of honeymooners who visited Great Falls in June.A black waiter in overalls came over, smiling... Alia pulled her thoughts back and crawled off the bed.It was a Victorian bed with four posts, reinforced by brass, and covered with a canopy crocheted like a mosquito net; the mattress was set at an extraordinary height from the floor.She moved carefully, like an animal with a scarred back.She tugged at the straps of her silk pajamas, which might have been yanked across her shoulders. (What a pain, shoulders so red... a bruised bruise on the shoulder overnight.) Her eyes just opened, but the lashes were no longer glued together.A little bit of mucus is attached to the eye, and after it dries, it looks like sand particles.Still had that nasty sour taste in my mouth. "Oh, my god." She shook her head to get rid of the emotion, and it turned out to be a mistake.The glass is broken!The shards of the mirror moved, slipped, and flickered in her mind. Like last week when she clumsily dropped a mother-of-pearl hand mirror on the carpeted floor of her parents' bedroom, only to have the deliberate mirror bounce off the carpet onto the hardwood floor, shattering with a snap— The terrified bride and the stunned mother of the bride watched in despair at this omen of doom, which, being two devout Presbyterians, they were not allowed to believe. "Oh, Mom, I'm so sorry," Aaliyah said quietly, but in her heart she thought it was time to resign to fate indifferently: it would start now.my punishment. Just then, the indistinct rumble of the Great Falls fell into her sleep. Just then, the vague rumble of the Great Falls, like a murmur that God cannot decipher, dipped into her heart with ominous portent. She's married to a man she doesn't love and won't love.Worse yet, she married a man she knew couldn't possibly love her. The religion of Roman Catholicism was baroque,1 which disturbed and fascinated Protestants, who believed in the existence of felony.Although there are misdemeanors in the world, felonies are among the most serious crimes.Alia knew what she and Gilbert had done must be a felony, punished by eternal guilt.Under the legal contract of lifelong companionship, they entered the sacred palace of marriage.At the same time, this kind of thing is likely to happen in Troy, New York, or anywhere else, ordinary, nothing extraordinary.These are the things that "will come eventually, and get over it sooner or later." (It was Mrs. Littlerell's favorite catchphrase. Alia's mother said it at least once a day, and she seemed to regard it as a beaming mood.) Alia staggered to her feet on the dull pink velvet carpet.She was barefoot, sweaty and trembling.Suddenly, she felt itchy.Under the wet armpits, between her legs.A searing itching flared up like a swarm of tiny red ants attacking her groin area. my punishment.Alia really didn't know if she was still a virgin. Or, in the chaos of that night, when the two people in pajamas and half-naked were frantically intoxicated, kissing with their mouths open, gasping for breath, after the anxious and crazy caress of the young husband, she may have...maybe not know how to return It's just... Pregnant? Alia pressed her knuckles to her lips. "God, no, please." Impossible, she wasn't going to think about it.This is impossible. Of course, Aaliyah wanted kids.She said so.That's what she assured Mother Erskine and her own mother.Said many times.The average young mother wants children and wants a home.She was a good Christian woman. But have a baby! —Aria recoiled in disgust. "No, please." Alia knocked timidly on the bathroom door.If Gilbert was inside, she would not like to disturb him.The door was unlocked.She pushed open the door cautiously...a rectangular mirror behind the door swung towards her, and saw a caricature-like image: inside the mirror was a woman with disheveled hair and a sallow face, wearing torn pajamas.She quickly looked away, and the exquisite glass in her head moved away immediately, flashing a painful light. "Oh! God." What she saw: The bathroom was empty.Large and luxurious rooms are paneled with glaring white china, with brass fixtures, scented soaps wrapped in foil wrappers, and monogrammed hand towels stacked sheepishly.The large white porcelain bathtub with tiger claw feet was also empty. (Did Gilbert take a bath? Was it a shower? There were no signs of wetness in the tub.) The room smelled distinctly of vomiting, and several of the thick terry-weave bath towels had been used.One fell to the floor.Above the delicately recessed sink, a heart-shaped mirror has a speckled surface. Arya took the dirty towel and hung it on the rack, wondering if she would ever see Gilbert Erskine again, she thought. The female ghost in the mirror hesitated, but she didn't meet its pitiful gaze.She wondered if she had thought of everything: the engagement ("My life has changed. My life has been saved. Thank you, God!"); the wedding at her father's church; oath.Alia's favorite movie was Walt Disney's, and she'd seen it many times, but it wasn't a step toward marriage. What if you were the unmarried daughter of Mr. Reverend and Mrs. Thaddeus Littrell of Troy, New York.A visionary! "Gilbert?" she raised her voice tremblingly. "Are you—somewhere else?" Mute. In addition to the bathroom, the honeymoon suite, known as the Rosebud, also includes a bedroom, a living room and two closets.The furniture is strikingly Victorian - the rooms are filled with tulip-coloured cushions, drapes, lampshades and rugs.Many cushions are heart-shaped.Aaliyah opened every closet door, then flinched back, with a terrible headache. (Why was she behaving so absurdly? How could Gilbert be hiding in the closet? She didn't want to think about it.) She saw his clothes, neatly hung on hotel hangers, put away and untouched.If he wanted to slip away, wouldn't he take his clothes? She didn't want to wonder if the Packard was still there.It had been a gift from the Erskines to Gilbert months before. living room!Bad memories hover here.On the marble-topped table, there is a vase with some withered red roses and a bottle of French champagne. These are all blessings from the Rainbow Hotel. Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert Erskine !The bottle is set aside.Alya felt humiliated.The sweet, tangy smell of roses turned to bile in her mouth.Gilbert took a cautious sip of champagne.He seldom drank what he called wine; even at the wedding feast he was abstinent.Not so with Alia. Suffering from a hangover.This is her condition.There is nothing mysterious about it. Suffering from a hangover!Until the morning after her wedding. It's so embarrassing.Thank God the elders don't know. Gilbert would never have said it.He wouldn't even tell about his doting mother Erskine. Really annoying.You obviously hate me. Absolutely not.He is so polite.But also with arrogance. He is a gentleman and an immature boy.A gentleman will never upset his wife, especially a very sensitive and excitable wife.It was his bride who had been married to him for less than 24 hours.So Gilbert must be somewhere in the hotel.Downstairs in the lobby or in the coffee shop; outside on the verandah overlooking the lawn, or taking a walk in the hotel courtyard, Alia awaits. (But Gilbert would not wait for her to go sightseeing alone at the Great Falls.) It was still early, not yet half past seven.He had taken his clothes and shoes, and went into the living room to dress quietly.He knew Alia was exhausted, and he was careful not to wake her.He didn't even turn on the light.He must have tiptoed out barefoot. Do everything you can to escape.unnoticed. "No! I don't believe it." It felt so strange to be so alone.Even Aaliyah's voice seemed so lonely in the ludicrously decorated suite.This was not the kind of marriage she had envisioned. You start with a wish, the wish comes true, and you can't get rid of the wish. Just like the episode in the comic nightmare "The Sorcerer's Apprentice".Mickey Mouse, who became a magician's apprentice, suffered a lot, but after the magician returned home and lifted the spell, the story finally ended in a comedy.But Aaliyah's situation is very different. Home.Where is Alia's home?They were supposed to "settle" in Palmyra, New York. The house was a tall, desolate brick mansion that Gilbert had received as a priest when he was ordained.She had a vague memory of the house and didn't want to think about it now. So: where is this moment? Niagara Falls? all over the place!Vulgar joke.It's as if Aaliyah and Gilbert are wishing they were the typical American newlyweds. In fact, it was Gilbert who somehow thought of the Great Falls.He has long been interested in the "ancient glacial history" and "geographical prehistory" of upstate New York.On one date they went to the Natural History Museum in Albany, and on another to Herkimer Falls, where a retired colonel exhibited his collection of fossils and Indian archaeological trinkets.From the conversations at the dinner table between Gilbert and her father, which were more interesting than those between Gilbert and her, she deduced that Gilbert believed his "destined mission" was to resolve the The conflict between the supposed factual evidence in the century fossils and the biblical account of creation. Reverend Littrell was square-faced, middle-aged, muscular, like Teddy Roosevelt in old photographs, serious and sensible.But he scoffed at the above views.He believed that the devil had left so-called fossils on Earth for credulous fools to discover. Gilbert was dissatisfied with this, but, being a gentleman, he did not expressly object. The path of science and the path of faith.Alia had to adore her fiancé for having such ambitions. And she always understood Genesis as a Hebrew version of the Grimm's fairy tales.The book is more of a warning: If you do not obey the will of God the Father, you will be expelled from the Garden of Eden.Daughter of Eve, you will be punished twice: you will give birth to children with pain.You will desire your husband, and your husband will rule over you.Voila, it's all clear! Alia didn't want to get into a theological argument with Gilbert, or argue with her father.Let these men think as they please, Alia thought.这对我们也有好处。 阿莉亚决定打电话给接待台。她鼓起勇气，抓起了粉红色的塑料话筒拨了“0”。她要问的是——有没有一个年轻男子在大堂的什么地方？或是——在外面的游廊？在咖啡店？请告诉他她想同他说话。这个体重150磅、身材高挑消瘦的年轻男子脸上如同羊皮纸一般苍白的皮肤被颧骨撑得太紧了，他戴着圆金丝眼镜，穿戴整洁，谦恭有礼，身上带着一种特别的气质：好像总是耐心等待别人取悦于他；或者显示出自己有多么慈善，多么乐意牺牲自己的期望，虽然私下里他并不高兴……但就在此时，接线员愉快的声音传了过来：“早上好，厄尔斯金夫人，需要帮忙吗？”阿莉亚一下怔得哑口无言。她还要努力调整自己、使自己习惯别人称呼自己为“厄尔斯金夫人”。可令她更为震惊的是，她意识到一个陌生人竟然知道她的身份。总机室一定已经弄清楚了她的房间号。阿莉亚温和地说：“我——就是想知道今天天气怎么样？我想知道早晨应该穿什么衣服。” 接线员友好、职业般地笑着。 “虽然六月份了，但是夫人，这里是大瀑布啊。雾气没散之前，还是穿暖和些。”接着她戏剧性地停顿了一下又说：“如果雾能散的话。” 3 早上7点35分。这时，阿莉亚还没有发现那封诀别信，信就写在一张暗粉色的彩虹大酒店信纸上，叠得很整齐地靠在卧室梳妆台镜子旁。这是一个椭圆形的金边小镜子，而阿莉亚无法在巨大打击之后还能照镜子。 上帝，不要。宽恕我吧。在我睡觉的时候，吉尔伯特一定看到了什么。 当然，还好，吉尔伯特?厄尔斯金不在身边，这让人释然。 在前一天的狂乱喧嚣之后，那么多令人窒息的面孔又浮现在她面前，微笑如噩梦般错乱疯狂，还有同床共枕的亲密接触…… 洗个澡。快点，在吉尔伯特回来之前要洗完！ 阿莉亚无论如何都该洗过澡了。of course.一般来说她每天晚上睡前都要洗个澡，但是从前天晚上到现在都没有洗了；一般来说，如果她晚上没洗的话，那她一定会在早上洗的。有时，在纽约州北部闷热潮湿的夏天，在还没有空调的时代，阿莉亚一天要洗两次澡。而这次她自己都难以置信，她没有去闻自己的味道。 没有什么比洗澡更吸引她的了。在豪华浴室里洗个湿淋淋的热水澡，她不必用荷兰清洁剂和擦洗刷清洗之后，再躺进这奢侈的浴盆；彩虹大酒店免费配备的浴具有洗澡清香剂和丁香浴盐生泡剂。她的眼中充满了感激的泪水。 再给我次机会！上帝，求您了。 当然还有希望。阿莉亚很执拗的相信吉尔伯特?厄尔斯金是偷偷溜走了。 可一个27岁的长老会牧师、也是长老会牧师的儿子与女婿，他究竟会逃向何方呢？ “他落入了圈套，就像我一样。” 阿莉亚打开铜制的大水龙头放洗澡水，直到浴室的每一面镜子都蒙上了水气。诱人、温暖、窒息的芬芳气息！为了把身上干却的汗渍和其他污点都洗干净，水温热得让她难以忍受。她闻到了自己身体的味道。 还有他的体味。她生怯地碰到了他。无意的。或者是在混乱中，她碰到了他，或是压到了他……她记不清楚了。而不管发生了什么，从男人坚韧的东西里冲出的牛奶一样的液体流到了她的肚子上，渗进了床单里，没有啊，她确实想不起来了。 这个男人的高声尖叫令人惊骇。像蝙蝠的叫声。他在狂笑，他在她怀里啜泣。她记不得了，也不想责怪谁。 阿莉亚还要用香波洗头发。脖子后面的头发粘糊糊、乱糟糟的，红色褪去的干枯的鬈发那么纤细稀少，需要经常护理。用扁平发卡和泡沫塑料的卷发筒把头发别起来。（她秘密带了这些东西藏在手提箱里以供蜜月旅行之用。但是很明显她不能戴着这些饰品上床。）今天早上她不会有时间卷头发了，所以她把头发梳到后面，梳成了利特莱尔夫人所说的“时髦的法国结”，然后把额头的刘海拍得蓬松。她希望自己看起来更像芭蕾舞演员，而不是老处女图书管理员或者是学校里的教师。 她会把一支粉红的玫瑰花蕾缠进法国结里。 她会化非常淡的妆，不会像昨天那样因场合需要而浓妆艳抹了。口红不是鲜红而是珊瑚红。这是女人味的另一种表现。诱惑力。 所以，吉尔伯特再次见到阿莉亚时，她会身着仿男式的女衬衫，肩上搭着一件白色的羊毛衫，发型是时髦的法国结，弯弯的薄嘴唇上涂着娴淡的口红，他就又会赏识她了。他会再次对她肃然起敬。（难道他曾经敬重过她吗？有一会儿？这个带着小镇的贵族气质、“有音乐爱好”、撒迪厄斯?利特莱尔牧师的女儿？）他总是对她羞怯地笑笑，扶一下眼镜。有时也会对她眨眨眼睛，就像是强光刺进了眼睛一样。 我原谅你，阿莉亚。虽然你昨晚厌恶我，而我也厌恶你。 我不可能爱上你。但是我可以原谅你。