This was my wife’s story, as I drew it from her among tears and sobs2. Her name was Clara Huddlestone: it sounded very beautiful in my ears; but not so beautiful as that other name of Clara Cassilis, which she wore during the longer and, I thank God, the happier portion of her life. Her father, Bernard Huddlestone, had been a private banker in a very large way of business. Many years before, his affairs becoming disordered, he had been led to try dangerous, and at last criminal, expedients3 to retrieve4 himself from ruin. All was in vain; he became more and more cruelly involved, and found his honour lost at the same moment with his fortune. About this period, Northmour had been courting his daughter with great assiduity, though with small encouragement; and to him, knowing him thus disposed in his favour, Bernard Huddlestone turned for help in his extremity5. It was not merely ruin and dishonour6, nor merely a legal condemnation7, that the unhappy man had brought upon his head. It seems he could have gone to prison with a light heart. What he feared, what kept him awake at night or recalled him from slumber8 into frenzy9, was some secret, sudden, and unlawful attempt upon his life. Hence, he desired to bury his existence and escape to one of the islands in the South Pacific, and it was in Northmour’s yacht, the RED EARL, that he designed to go. The yacht picked them up clandestinely10 upon the coast of Wales, and had once more deposited them at Graden, till she could be refitted and provisioned for the longer voyage. Nor could Clara doubt that her hand had been stipulated11 as the price of passage. For, although Northmour was neither unkind nor even discourteous12, he had shown himself in several instances somewhat overbold in speech and manner.
I listened, I need not say, with fixed13 attention, and put many questions as to the more mysterious part. It was in vain. She had no clear idea of what the blow was, nor of how it was expected to fall. Her father’s alarm was unfeigned and physically14 prostrating15, and he had thought more than once of making an unconditional16 surrender to the police. But the scheme was finally abandoned, for he was convinced that not even the strength of our English prisons could shelter him from his pursuers. He had had many affairs with Italy, and with Italians resident in London, in the later years of his business; and these last, as Clara fancied, were somehow connected with the doom17 that threatened him. He had shown great terror at the presence of an Italian seaman18 on board the RED EARL, and had bitterly and repeatedly accused Northmour in consequence. The latter had protested that Beppo (that was the seaman’s name) was a capital fellow, and could be trusted to the death; but Mr. Huddlestone had continued ever since to declare that all was lost, that it was only a question of days, and that Beppo would be the ruin of him yet.
I regarded the whole story as the hallucination of a mind shaken by calamity19. He had suffered heavy loss by his Italian transactions; and hence the sight of an Italian was hateful to him, and the principal part in his nightmare would naturally enough be played by one of that nation.
“What your father wants,” I said, “is a good doctor and some calming medicine.”
“But Mr. Northmour?” objected your mother. “He is untroubled by losses, and yet he shares in this terror.”
I could not help laughing at what I considered her simplicity20.
“My dear,” said I, “you have told me yourself what reward he has to look for. All is fair in love, you must remember; and if Northmour foments21 your father’s terrors, it is not at all because he is afraid of any Italian man, but simply because he is infatuated with a charming English woman.”
She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the night of the disembarkation, and this I was unable to explain. In short, and from one thing to another, it was agreed between us, that I should set out at once for the fisher village, Graden Wester, as it was called, look up all the newspapers I could find, and see for myself if there seemed any basis of fact for these continued alarms. The next morning, at the same hour and place, I was to make my report to Clara. She said no more on that occasion about my departure; nor, indeed, did she make it a secret that she clung to the thought of my proximity22 as something helpful and pleasant; and, for my part, I could not have left her, if she had gone upon her knees to ask it.
I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; for in those days I was an excellent pedestrian, and the distance, as I think I have said, was little over seven miles; fine walking all the way upon the springy turf. The village is one of the bleakest24 on that coast, which is saying much: there is a church in a hollow; a miserable25 haven26 in the rocks, where many boats have been lost as they returned from fishing; two or three score of stone houses arranged along the beach and in two streets, one leading from the harbour, and another striking out from it at right angles; and, at the corner of these two, a very dark and cheerless tavern27, by way of principal hotel.
I had dressed myself somewhat more suitably to my station in life, and at once called upon the minister in his little manse beside the graveyard28. He knew me, although it was more than nine years since we had met; and when I told him that I had been long upon a walking tour, and was behind with the news, readily lent me an armful of newspapers, dating from a month back to the day before. With these I sought the tavern, and, ordering some breakfast, sat down to study the “Huddlestone Failure.”
It had been, it appeared, a very flagrant case. Thousands of persons were reduced to poverty; and one in particular had blown out his brains as soon as payment was suspended. It was strange to myself that, while I read these details, I continued rather to sympathise with Mr. Huddlestone than with his victims; so complete already was the empire of my love for my wife. A price was naturally set upon the banker’s head; and, as the case was inexcusable and the public indignation thoroughly29 aroused, the unusual figure of 750 pounds was offered for his capture. He was reported to have large sums of money in his possession. One day, he had been heard of in Spain; the next, there was sure intelligence that he was still lurking30 between Manchester and Liverpool, or along the border of Wales; and the day after, a telegram would announce his arrival in Cuba or Yucatan. But in all this there was no word of an Italian, nor any sign of mystery.
In the very last paper, however, there was one item not so clear. The accountants who were charged to verify the failure had, it seemed, come upon the traces of a very large number of thousands, which figured for some time in the transactions of the house of Huddlestone; but which came from nowhere, and disappeared in the same mysterious fashion. It was only once referred to by name, and then under the initials “X. X.”; but it had plainly been floated for the first time into the business at a period of great depression some six years ago. The name of a distinguished31 Royal personage had been mentioned by rumour32 in connection with this sum. “The cowardly desperado” — such, I remember, was the editorial expression — was supposed to have escaped with a large part of this mysterious fund still in his possession.
I was still brooding over the fact, and trying to torture it into some connection with Mr. Huddlestone’s danger, when a man entered the tavern and asked for some bread and cheese with a decided33 foreign accent.
“SIETE ITALIANO?” said I.
“SI, SIGNOR,” was his reply.
I said it was unusually far north to find one of his compatriots; at which he shrugged34 his shoulders, and replied that a man would go anywhere to find work. What work he could hope to find at Graden Wester, I was totally unable to conceive; and the incident struck so unpleasantly upon my mind, that I asked the landlord, while he was counting me some change, whether he had ever before seen an Italian in the village. He said he had once seen some Norwegians, who had been shipwrecked on the other side of Graden Ness and rescued by the lifeboat from Cauldhaven.
“No!” said I; “but an Italian, like the man who has just had bread and cheese.”
“What?” cried he, “yon black-avised fellow wi’ the teeth? Was he an I-talian? Weel, yon’s the first that ever I saw, an’ I dare say he’s like to be the last.”
Even as he was speaking, I raised my eyes, and, casting a glance into the street, beheld35 three men in earnest conversation together, and not thirty yards away. One of them was my recent companion in the tavern parlour; the other two, by their handsome, sallow features and soft hats, should evidently belong to the same race. A crowd of village children stood around them, gesticulating and talking gibberish in imitation. The trio looked singularly foreign to the bleak23 dirty street in which they were standing36, and the dark grey heaven that overspread them; and I confess my incredulity received at that moment a shock from which it never recovered. I might reason with myself as I pleased, but I could not argue down the effect of what I had seen, and I began to share in the Italian terror.
It was already drawing towards the close of the day before I had returned the newspapers at the manse, and got well forward on to the links on my way home. I shall never forget that walk. It grew very cold and boisterous37; the wind sang in the short grass about my feet; thin rain showers came running on the gusts39; and an immense mountain range of clouds began to arise out of the bosom40 of the sea. It would be hard to imagine a more dismal41 evening; and whether it was from these external influences, or because my nerves were already affected42 by what I had heard and seen, my thoughts were as gloomy as the weather.
The upper windows of the pavilion commanded a considerable spread of links in the direction of Graden Wester. To avoid observation, it was necessary to hug the beach until I had gained cover from the higher sand-hills on the little headland, when I might strike across, through the hollows, for the margin43 of the wood. The sun was about setting; the tide was low, and all the quicksands uncovered; and I was moving along, lost in unpleasant thought, when I was suddenly thunderstruck to perceive the prints of human feet. They ran parallel to my own course, but low down upon the beach instead of along the border of the turf; and, when I examined them, I saw at once, by the size and coarseness of the impression, that it was a stranger to me and to those in the pavilion who had recently passed that way. Not only so; but from the recklessness of the course which he had followed, steering44 near to the most formidable portions of the sand, he was as evidently a stranger to the country and to the ill-repute of Graden beach.
Step by step I followed the prints; until, a quarter of a mile farther, I beheld them die away into the south-eastern boundary of Graden Floe45. There, whoever he was, the miserable man had perished. One or two gulls46, who had, perhaps, seen him disappear, wheeled over his sepulchre with their usual melancholy47 piping. The sun had broken through the clouds by a last effort, and coloured the wide level of quicksands with a dusky purple. I stood for some time gazing at the spot, chilled and disheartened by my own reflections, and with a strong and commanding consciousness of death. I remember wondering how long the tragedy had taken, and whether his screams had been audible at the pavilion. And then, making a strong resolution, I was about to tear myself away, when a gust38 fiercer than usual fell upon this quarter of the beach, and I saw now, whirling high in air, now skimming lightly across the surface of the sands, a soft, black, felt hat, somewhat conical in shape, such as I had remarked already on the heads of the Italians.
I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. The wind was driving the hat shoreward, and I ran round the border of the floe to be ready against its arrival. The gust fell, dropping the hat for a while upon the quicksand, and then, once more freshening, landed it a few yards from where I stood. I seized it with the interest you may imagine. It had seen some service; indeed, it was rustier48 than either of those I had seen that day upon the street. The lining49 was red, stamped with the name of the maker50, which I have forgotten, and that of the place of manufacture, VENEDIG. This (it is not yet forgotten) was the name given by the Austrians to the beautiful city of Venice, then, and for long after, a part of their dominions51.
The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon every side; and for the first, and, I may say, for the last time in my experience, became overpowered by what is called a panic terror. I knew nothing, that is, to be afraid of, and yet I admit that I was heartily52 afraid; and it was with a sensible reluctance53 that I returned to my exposed and solitary54 camp in the Sea-Wood.
There I ate some cold porridge which had been left over from the night before, for I was disinclined to make a fire; and, feeling strengthened and reassured55, dismissed all these fanciful terrors from my mind, and lay down to sleep with composure.
How long I may have slept it is impossible for me to guess; but I was awakened56 at last by a sudden, blinding flash of light into my face. It woke me like a blow. In an instant I was upon my knees. But the light had gone as suddenly as it came. The darkness was intense. And, as it was blowing great guns from the sea and pouring with rain, the noises of the storm effectually concealed57 all others.
It was, I dare say, half a minute before I regained58 my self-possession. But for two circumstances, I should have thought I had been awakened by some new and vivid form of nightmare. First, the flap of my tent, which I had shut carefully when I retired59, was now unfastened; and, second, I could still perceive, with a sharpness that excluded any theory of hallucination, the smell of hot metal and of burning oil. The conclusion was obvious. I had been wakened by some one flashing a bull’s-eye lantern in my face. It had been but a flash, and away. He had seen my face, and then gone. I asked myself the object of so strange a proceeding60, and the answer came pat. The man, whoever he was, had thought to recognise me, and he had not. There was yet another question unresolved; and to this, I may say, I feared to give an answer; if he had recognised me, what would he have done?
My fears were immediately diverted from myself, for I saw that I had been visited in a mistake; and I became persuaded that some dreadful danger threatened the pavilion. It required some nerve to issue forth61 into the black and intricate thicket62 which surrounded and overhung the den1; but I groped my way to the links, drenched63 with rain, beaten upon and deafened64 by the gusts, and fearing at every step to lay my hand upon some lurking adversary65. The darkness was so complete that I might have been surrounded by an army and yet none the wiser, and the uproar66 of the gale67 so loud that my hearing was as useless as my sight.
For the rest of that night, which seemed interminably long, I patrolled the vicinity of the pavilion, without seeing a living creature or hearing any noise but the concert of the wind, the sea, and the rain. A light in the upper story filtered through a cranny of the shutter68, and kept me company till the approach of dawn.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
den
|
|
| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
sobs
|
|
| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
expedients
|
|
| n.应急有效的，权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
retrieve
|
|
| vt.重新得到，收回；挽回，补救；检索 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
dishonour
|
|
| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
condemnation
|
|
| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
slumber
|
|
| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
frenzy
|
|
| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
clandestinely
|
|
| adv.秘密地，暗中地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
stipulated
|
|
| vt.& vi.规定；约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
discourteous
|
|
| adj.不恭的，不敬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
prostrating
|
|
| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的现在分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
unconditional
|
|
| adj.无条件的，无限制的，绝对的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
seaman
|
|
| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
foments
|
|
| v.激起，煽动（麻烦等）( foment的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
22
proximity
|
|
| n.接近，邻近 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
bleak
|
|
| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
bleakest
|
|
| 阴冷的( bleak的最高级 )； （状况）无望的； 没有希望的； 光秃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
haven
|
|
| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
tavern
|
|
| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
graveyard
|
|
| n.坟场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
lurking
|
|
| 潜在 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
distinguished
|
|
| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
rumour
|
|
| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
standing
|
|
| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
boisterous
|
|
| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
gusts
|
|
| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
bosom
|
|
| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
affected
|
|
| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
margin
|
|
| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
steering
|
|
| n.操舵装置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
floe
|
|
| n.大片浮冰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
gulls
|
|
| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
melancholy
|
|
| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
rustier
|
|
| 生锈的( rusty的比较级 )； 荒疏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
49
lining
|
|
| n.衬里，衬料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
maker
|
|
| n.制造者，制造商 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
dominions
|
|
| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
reluctance
|
|
| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
solitary
|
|
| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
reassured
|
|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
awakened
|
|
| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
regained
|
|
| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
proceeding
|
|
| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
thicket
|
|
| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
deafened
|
|
| 使聋( deafen的过去式和过去分词 )； 使隔音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
adversary
|
|
| adj.敌手，对手 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
uproar
|
|
| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
gale
|
|
| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
shutter
|
|
| n.百叶窗；(照相机)快门；关闭装置 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |