My lady turned to me.
"Have you your pistols by you?" she whispered in a hoarse1 and angry voice, clutching me by the lapels of my coat. "Go, man! Go, follow him! He rushes to his death. And he is all that I have. Go and save him!"
She that had fleeched with her son, like a dove succouring its young, laid harshly her commands upon me.
"I am no fighter, aunt," I said. "What protection can I be to Walter Gordon, the best sworder in Edinburgh town this night from Holyrood to the Castle?"
My lady looked about her as one that sees a stealthy enemy approach. Her hand trembled as she laid it on my arm.
"What avails good swordsmanship, when one comes behind and one before, as in my dream I saw them do upon my Walter, out of the house of my Lord Wellwood. They came upon him and left him lying on the snow.—Ah, go, dear cousin William!" she said, breaking into a sharp cry of entreaty3 lest I should fail her. "It is you that can save him. But let him not see you follow, or it will make him more bitter against me. For if you cannot play with the sword, you can shoot with the pistol; so I have heard, and they tell me that no one can shoot so truly as thou. They would not let thee shoot at Kirkcudbright for the Siller Gun though thou art a burgess, because it were no fair game. Is it not true?"
And so she stroked and cuitled me with flattery till I declare I purred like our Gib cat. I had begun there and then to tell her of my prowess, but that she interrupted me.
"He goes toward the High Street. Hasten up the South Wynd, and you will overtake him yet ere he comes out upon the open road."
She thrust two pistols into my belt, which I laid aside again, having mine own more carefully primed with me, to the firing of which my hand was more accustomed—and that to a marksman is more than half the battle.
When I reached the street the wildness of the night justified4 my prophecy. The snow was falling athwart the town in broad wet flakes5, driving flat against the face with a splash, before a gusty7 westerly wind that roared among the tall lums of the steep-gabled houses—a most uncomfortable night to run the risk of getting a dirk in one's ribs8.
I saw my cousin before me, linking on carelessly through the snow with his cloak about his ears and his black-scabbard rapier swinging at his heels.
But I had to slink behind backs like a Holyrood dyvour—a bankrupt going to the Sanctuary9, jooking and cowering10 craftily11 in the lee-side shadow of the houses. For though so wild a night, it was not very dark. There was a moon up there somewhere among the smother12, though she could not get so much as her nose through the wrack13 of banked snow-cloud which was driving up from the west. Yet Wat could have seen me very black on the narrow strip of snow, had he ever once thought of looking over his shoulder.
But Wat the Wullcat of Lochinvar was not the one to look behind him when he strode on to keep tryst14. I minded his bitter reckless words to his mother, "Heaven and hell shall not make me break my tryst to-night!" Now Heaven was shut out by the storm and the tall close-built houses, and Walter Gordon had an excellent chance of standing15 a bout2 with the other place.
No doubt my Lady Wellwood bided16 at the window and looked out for him to come to her through the snow. And I that had for common no thought of lass or lady, cannot say that I was without my own envying that the love of woman was not for me. Or so at least I thought at that time, even as I shielded my eyes under my bonnet17 and drave through the snow with the pistols loose in my belt. But Wat of Lochinvar walked defiantly18 through the black storm with a saucy19 swing in his carriage, light and careless, which I vouch20 drew my heart to him as if I had been a young girl. I had given ten years of my life if just so I could have taken the eyes of women.
As clear as if I had listened to the words, I could hear him saying over within himself the last sentence he had used in the controversy21 with his mother—"Heaven and hell shall not cause me to break my tryst to-night!"
Alack! poor lad, little understood he the resources of either. For he had yet to pass beneath Traitor22's' Gate.
For once the narrow High Street of Edinburgh was clean and white—sheeted down in the clinging snow that would neither melt nor freeze, but only clung to every joint23, jut24, stoop, and step of the house-fronts, and clogged25 in lumps on the crockets of the roof. The wind wrestled26 and roared in great gusts27 overhead in the black, uncertain, tumultuous night. Then a calm would come, sudden as a curtain-drop in the play-house, and in the hush28 you could hear the snow sliddering down off the high-pitched roofs of tile. The light of the moon also came in varying wafts29 and flickers30, as the wind blew the clouds alternately thicker and thinner across her face.
Now I felt both traitor and spy as I tracked my cousin down the brae. Hardly a soul was to be seen, for none loves comfort more than an Edinburgh burgher. And none understands his own weather better. The snow had swept ill-doer and well-doer off the street, cleaner than ever did the city guard—who, by the way, were no doubt warming their frozen toes by the cheerful fireside in some convenient house-of-call.
So meditating31, for a moment I had almost forgotten whither we were going.
Before us, ere I was aware, loomed32 up the battlements and turrets33 of the Netherbow. 'Twas with a sudden stound of the heart, that I remembered what it was that ten months and more ago had been set up there. But I am sure that, sharp-set on his love matter, like a beast that hunts nose-down on a hot trail, Wat Gordon had no memory for the decorations of the Netherbow. For he whistled as he went, and stuck his hand deeper into the breast of his coat. The moon came out as I looked, and for a moment, dark and grisly against the upper brightness, I saw that row of traitors34' heads which the city folk regarded no more in their coming and going, than the stone gargoyles35 set in the roof-niches of St. Giles.
But as soon as Wat went under the blackness of the arch, there came so fierce a gust6 that it fairly lifted me off my feet and dashed me against the wall. Overhead yelled all the mocking fiends of hell, riding slack-rein to a new perdition. The snow swirled36 tormented37, and wrapped us both in its grey smother. Hands seemed to pull at me out of the darkness, lifted me up, and flung me down again on my face in the smoor of the snow. A great access of fear fell on me. As the gust overpassed, I rose, choked and gasping38. Overhead I could hear the mighty39 blast go roaring and howling away among the crags and rocks of Arthur's Seat.
Then I arose, shook the snow from my dress, glanced at the barrels and cocks of my pistols to see that they were not stopped with snow, and stepped out of the angle of the Bow to look after my cousin. To my utter astonishment40, he was standing within four feet of me. He held some dark thing in his hand, and stared open-mouthed at it, as one demented. Without remembering that I had come out at my lady's bidding to follow Wat Gordon secretly, I stepped up to him till I could look over his shoulder.
"Walter!" I said, putting my hand on his arm.
But he never minded me in the least, nor yet appeared surprised to find me there. Only a black and bitter horror sat brooding on his soul.
He continued to gaze, fascinated, at the dark thing in his hand.
"God—God—God!" he sobbed41, the horror taking him short in the throat. "Will, do you see THIS?"
Such abject42 terror never have I heard before nor since in the utterance43 of any living man.
"Do you see This?" he said. "See what fell at my feet as I came through the arch of the Bow upon mine errand! The wind brought it down."
Above the moon pushed her way upwards44, fighting hard, breasting the cloud wrack like a labouring ship.
Her beams fell on the dark Thing in Wat Gordon's hand.
"Great God!" he shouted again, his eyes starting from their sockets45, "IT IS MINE OWN FATHER'S HEAD!"
And above us the fitful, flying winds nichered and laughed like mocking fiends.
It was true. I that write, saw it plain. I held it in this very hand. It was the head of Sir John of Lochinvar, against whom, in the last fray46, his own son had donned the war-gear. Grizzled, black, the snow cleaving47 ghastly about the empty eye-holes, the thin beard still straggling snow-clogged upon the chin—it was his own father's head that had fallen at Walter Gordon's feet, and which he now held in his hand.
Then I remembered, with a shudder48 of apprehension49, his own words so lately spoken—"Heaven and hell shall not cause me to break my tryst to-night."
Walter Gordon stood rooted there, dazed and dumb-foundered, with the Thing in his hand. His fine lace ruffles50 touched it as the wind blew them.
I plucked at him.
"Come," I said, "haste you! Let us bury it in the Holyrood ere the moon goes down."
Thus he who boasted himself free of heaven and hell, had his tryst broken by the Thing that fell from the ghastly gate on which the traitors' heads are set in a row. And that Thing was the head of the father that begat him.
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收听单词发音
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1
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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2
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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3
entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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4
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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5
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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6
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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7
gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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8
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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9
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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10
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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11
craftily
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| 狡猾地，狡诈地 | |
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12
smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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13
wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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14
tryst
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| n.约会；v.与…幽会 | |
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15
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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16
bided
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| v.等待，停留( bide的过去式 )；居住；等待；面临 | |
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17
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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18
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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19
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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vouch
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| v.担保；断定；n.被担保者 | |
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21
controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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23
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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24
jut
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| v.突出；n.突出，突出物 | |
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clogged
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| （使）阻碍( clog的过去式和过去分词 )； 淤滞 | |
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26
wrestled
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| v.（与某人）搏斗( wrestle的过去式和过去分词 )；扭成一团；扭打；（与…）摔跤 | |
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27
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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28
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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29
wafts
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| n.空中飘来的气味，一阵气味( waft的名词复数 )；摇转风扇v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
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30
flickers
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| 电影制片业； （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的名词复数 ) | |
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31
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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32
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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33
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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34
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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35
gargoyles
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| n.怪兽状滴水嘴( gargoyle的名词复数 ) | |
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36
swirled
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| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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38
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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39
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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40
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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41
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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42
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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43
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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44
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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45
sockets
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| n.套接字，使应用程序能够读写与收发通讯协定(protocol)与资料的程序( Socket的名词复数 )；孔( socket的名词复数 )；（电器上的）插口；托座；凹穴 | |
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46
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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47
cleaving
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| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的现在分词 ) | |
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48
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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49
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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50
ruffles
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| 褶裥花边( ruffle的名词复数 ) | |
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