It was a promise which, having once been given, she felt bound to fulfil; but, indeed, after consideration showed her no reason why she should wish to do otherwise than fulfil it. She was determined1, in the first place, to carry out her promise, and, in the second, if it were by any means possible to do so, to clear up the terrible suspicion which had taken root in her mind, either by proving that it had no basis of fact to rest upon, or else, by the accumulation of further evidence, to put together a case sufficiently2 strong to warrant her in placing it in other and more competent hands, leaving it for them to work out to whatever issue it might lead them.
In pursuance of this resolution it was that, two days after Mrs. Varrel's death, and without affording the faintest hint to anyone of the real object she had in view, Hermia wrote the note, already given, to her lover; and after bidding Uncle John and Aunt Charlotte a tender farewell, set out for London on an errand which she herself felt all but convinced would prove to be nothing more than a bootless errand.
She drove direct from the London terminus to the house of her friend, Mrs. Wingate, in Maida Vale. Both Mrs. Wingate and her husband made Hermia as welcome as it was possible to make anyone. She explained to them the object of her journey as far as the delivery of the parcel was concerned, upon which Mr. Wingate kindly3 offered to keep her company on her errand, assuring her, after she had told him the address she wanted to go to, that the neighborhood in question was a very low one, being infested4 by loose characters of various kinds, and that a lady unattended--unless she were a Sister of Mercy, or a "visitor," and known to be such--could scarcely traverse it without the risk of being insulted, to say nothing of the further risk she would run of being hustled5 and robbed.
On consideration, Hermia deemed it best to accept Mr. Wingate's offer. She had not mentioned Richard Varrell's name, and, bearing in mind her promise to his mother, she determined not to do so.
Accordingly, they set out about six o'clock the following day, Mr. Wingate being of opinion that if the person Miss Rivers was in search of were in any kind of employment she would be more likely to find him at home in the evening than at any other time. Mr. Wingate had engaged a hansom, and after what had seemed to Hermia an interminable ride, but which was none the less strange and fascinating to her untutored eyes on that account, they were set down opposite a church having a spire6 so tall and stately that if it could have been transplanted to the flat country about Ashdown it would have served as a landmark7 for miles around. After skirting the churchyard and leaving behind all the main thoroughfares of traffic, they found themselves in a maze8 of streets, courts and alleys9, the like of which Hermia had never dreamed of before and never wished to see again. The farther they penetrated10, the more squalid and mean became their surroundings. The whole neighborhood swarmed12 with life--but such life! Could Hermia ever forget the dream of baleful faces which passed like a procession before her that evening; some scowling13 and sinister14, some leering, some with an ape-like grin upon them, and others verging15 on the vacancy16 of an idiot's, with here and there one bearing the impress of a wickedness so unfathomable that the girl could but shudder17 and veil her eyes? "But the children--oh, my dears, the little children!" as she said afterwards, when recounting her experience to Uncle John and Aunt Charlotte, her blue eyes flushed with tears. "It was simply heartrending to see them and to feel and know that I could do nothing for them."
At length, but not till after two or three inquiries19 on Mr. Wingate's part, Plumtree Street was found, number sixteen. It was a narrow street of three-storey tenements20, all of them looking unspeakably squalid and uncared for, with broken windows stuffed with rags and paper, and in many cases with doors which hardly hung together on their hinges. Mr. Wingate now gave Hermia the parcel, which he had hitherto taken charge of, and while he waited on guard, as it were, on the corner of the street, Hermia made her way to number sixteen, and not without a little fluttering of the nerves, knocked at the door. Again and again she knocked, first with her knuckles21 and then with the handle of her umbrella--the knocker itself, if there had ever been one, having apparently22 been wrenched23 away long ago--but to no purpose, although she could hear a woman inside objurgating someone at the top of her voice. A swarm11 of children watched her every movement, and presently, as if by some preconcerted signal, windows were thrown up, and the doorways24 near at hand began to fill with the shapes of slatternly women, and frowsy, disreputable-looking men.
Hermia began to feel far from comfortable, and she was just considering whether she had not better go back to Mr. Wingate, when the door was suddenly opened from within, and she found herself face to face with Richard Varrel.
She knew him again at a glance, despite the woeful change which a few short years had wrought25 in him. In days gone by, when he was a clerk, and she a girl of ten or twelve, she used often to meet him on her way to school, when he had always a smiling "Good-morning" for her. In those days he was a dandified, good-looking young man, with a facile smile, and the easy manner of one who was on excellent terms with himself and the world.
Hermia had not seen him after his "misfortune," as he termed it, till the evening of the trial when he spoke26 to John Brancker through the cab window, and even then she had been shocked to see the change in him; but now, when she beheld27 him again, the change was still more marked. His hands trembled like aspen leaves, his eyes were bleared and bloodshot, his face sallow and fallen away to little more than skin and bone.
He stood staring at Hermia, holding the open door in his hand, with a sort of half-gleam of recognition in his furtively28 suspicious eyes.
"Mr. Varrel," she said, "I see that you fail to remember me. My name is Hermia Rivers, and I am the niece of Mr. Brancker, of Ashdown."
The moment she began to speak his face lighted up with what seemed like the ghost of his old pleasant smile.
"What a stupid I must be to have forgotten you even for a moment!" he exclaimed. "Why of course I remember you, Miss Hermia--remember you from the time you were no higher than a table. Do you know what I used to think in those days? But how should you? I used to think that when you grew up I should like to marry you. Ah, I did, and I was in earnest about it, too!"
This was not at all what Hermia wanted, so she made haste to say:
"Are you not curious, Mr. Varrel, to know why I have come all this way to find you? But, first of all, why did you neglect to answer the letter I wrote you to this address more than a week ago?"
"Letter!--what letter?" he queried29, with a half-mazed look, and with that he pushed back his hat and pressed his hands to his forehead for a few moments, as if trying to recall something to mind. Then, half-doubtingly, he thrust his hand into an inner pocket of his coat and drew from it a letter--the one Hermia had written him, as she saw at a glance, and still unopened. He stared at it for a space of a dozen seconds, and then he said, confusedly:
"I recollect30, now, I put it in my pocket when it came--I wasn't very well at the time--and afterwards I forgot all about it. I did, upon my honor!"
"Open it and read it," was all Hermia could say.
When he had done so, he looked at her with a question in his eyes which his lips seemed afraid to ask.
"Your mother died three days ago," said Hermia, "looking to the last for the son who never came."
He turned away, and putting up an arm against the door-post, he leaned his head upon it. The tears that dropped from his eyes made tiny black dents31 in the grimy dust into which they fell.
"I've not one word of excuse, Miss Hermia, to urge for myself," he said presently. "I put the letter in my pocket, and forgot all about it. It was all owing to the drink--the cursed drink!"
Thereupon Hermia proceeded to give him his mother's last message.
"God bless her! She was a good woman," he said, sorrowfully. "Maybe, if I had been a different son to her she would have lived for years to come."
That he was genuinely moved by the news of his mother's death it was impossible to doubt.
"The errand which brought me here is not yet completed," said Hermia, presently. "Your mother entrusted32 me with a sum of money to give into your hands."
His cheek paled on the instant. "Hush33! Not a word about it here," he whispered, with a quick, apprehensive34 glance around. "If the wretches35 hereabouts once suspected that I had anything more than the merest trifle in the way of money in my possession, I should be a dead man before to-morrow morning. Will you come into my room for three minutes, Miss Rivers? You may safely do so, and I won't detain you longer."
Mr. Wingate was still keeping watch and ward18 at the corner of the street. "Lead the way and I will follow," was all she said.
Accordingly, they entered the house, and after Varrel had shut the door behind them he led the way up a rickety staircase, the handrail of which had been torn away, into a small back room on the first floor. Never before had Hermia been in such a room; but the evening was drawing in by this time, and in the half light its more sordid36 features did not seem so obtrusive37 as they would have done at mid-day.
"Not a palace, truly, Miss Rivers," he said, with a shrug38 and a cynical39 smile, "but cheerful, homelike, nay40, almost luxurious41 in comparison with some of its neighbors."
Hermia's only reply was an involuntary shudder.
Motioning her to the one chair in the place, he seated himself on the edge of a box, and cut the string of the parcel, which Hermia had handed him on entering the room. Before him lay the envelope and its contents, together with the bag of gold. He looked up, and his and Hermia's eyes met.
"This," he said, laying a finger on the envelope, "my mother was to keep for me until I should choose to reclaim42 it; but this," shifting his finger to the bag, "was for her sole use, as I told her when I gave it her--to buy whatever she wanted, and help to make her comfortable."
"Your mother refused to touch it, Mr. Varrel," replied Hermia, looking him steadily43 in the face.
"What do you mean?" he demanded, with startling suddenness. "Who told you she would not touch it?"
"She herself. She said there was blood on it--those were her words--and that she would have nothing to do with it till you had proved to her how you had come by it."
He sat for some seconds without speaking or stirring, like one in doubt what to do or say next. Then he said, sneeringly44:
"Old people when they lie dying often get strange fancies into their heads, and give expression to all manner of ridiculous things. Sensible people take no heed45 of their ravings at such times."
"On the contrary, it is at such times that secrets long hidden come unexpectedly to light."
He bit his lip as if to restrain himself from saying something which he might afterwards have regretted. Having glanced at the seal, he was about to put the envelope into his pocket unopened, when Hermia said:
"Mr. Varrel, have you noticed what is written outside that packet?"
"No--what is it?" he demanded.
In the twilight46 he had overlooked the writing. He now crossed to the window and read it. Then for a little space he stood stock still, with eyes that seemed fixed47 on vacancy. Then, going back to his seat, he said dryly:
"My mother's writing, without a doubt, Miss Rivers. But it was scarcely worth while--was it?--to draw my attention specially48 to it."
"You are quite aware of my motive49 in drawing your attention to it." responded Hermia. "Those words were written within twenty-four hours of the time Mr. Hazeldine was found murdered."
He put down the packet with a sudden movement, as if it had scorched50 his fingers.
"Oh, Mr. Varrel!" cried, the girl, clasping her hands in front of her bosom51, as if thereby52 to enforce her appeal, "if you know anything whatever in connection with that terrible crime--if you have any clue, even the faintest, to the perpetrator of it--I implore53 you no longer to conceal54 it."
Varrel got up abruptly55, and, crossing to the window, stood staring out of it with his back towards her. Hermia waited till the silence became all but unbearable56.
"I am quite at a loss, Miss Rivers," he began at length, speaking in a hard, dry voice, "to know why you should address so singular an appeal to me, or assume that I know anything more about Mr. Hazeldine's tragical57 end than is known to the world at large. A certain remark made by an old woman--a certain coincidence of date in connection with a parcel of banknotes--such is the flimsy superstructure round which you choose to build an imaginary theory, and then appeal to me for facts to enable you to substantiate58 it. No, Miss Rivers, it won't do. Your house of cards has no foundation beyond that which is supplied by your own vivid imagination. Pray accept my assurance on that score. The way in which the money, both gold and notes, came into my mother's hands is easily explained. I had won it over a certain race a few days before. The gold, as I have already remarked, I gave to her for her own use. That she did not choose to benefit by it is no fault of mine. The notes, which were intended by me for a very special purpose, I asked her to take charge of till the time should come for me to reclaim them, knowing well, as I did, that if I kept them by me, they would inevitably59 disappear after the fashion in which so many of their kind had disappeared already. The explanation is a simple one. I trust that you are satisfied."
He had come back to the table while speaking. Tearing open the envelope with an air of manifest defiance60, he extracted the notes from it, and proceeded to stuff them unceremoniously into his pocket.
But Hermia was far from being satisfied. She felt instinctively61 that he was prevaricating62, and that he knew far more than he cared to tell. But, in face of his emphatic63 denial, what was it possible for her to do more than she had done already? His manner implied that, as far as he was concerned, the interview was at an end, and, indeed, Hermia felt that it was high time for her to go. There was upon her a sense of hopeless bewilderment as she rose and pushed back her chair. She was like one groping in the mazes64 of a dark cavern65, who, while feeling sure the daylight is close at hand, vainly strives to find the way which will lead him to it. She would have to go back to Ashdown no wiser than she had left it.
"Before you go, Miss Rivers," said Varrel, "permit me to thank you, which I do from the bottom of my heart, for all your kindness to my poor mother."
He added a little more in the same strain, which it is not needful to repeat.
Three minutes later Hermia had rejoined Mr. Wingate.
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1
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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infested
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| adj.为患的，大批滋生的（常与with搭配）v.害虫、野兽大批出没于( infest的过去式和过去分词 )；遍布于 | |
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hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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spire
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| n.(教堂)尖顶，尖塔，高点 | |
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7
landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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10
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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11
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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12
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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13
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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verging
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| 接近，逼近（verge的现在分词形式） | |
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vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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18
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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tenements
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| n.房屋，住户，租房子( tenement的名词复数 ) | |
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21
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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22
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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23
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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26
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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27
beheld
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| 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 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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29
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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31
dents
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| n.花边边饰；凹痕( dent的名词复数 )；凹部；减少；削弱v.使产生凹痕( dent的第三人称单数 )；损害；伤害；挫伤（信心、名誉等） | |
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32
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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34
apprehensive
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| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
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35
wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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36
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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37
obtrusive
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| adj.显眼的；冒失的 | |
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38
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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39
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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40
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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41
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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42
reclaim
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| v.要求归还，收回；开垦 | |
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43
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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44
sneeringly
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| 嘲笑地，轻蔑地 | |
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45
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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46
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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47
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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48
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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49
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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50
scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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51
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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52
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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53
implore
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| vt.乞求，恳求，哀求 | |
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54
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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55
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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56
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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57
tragical
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| adj. 悲剧的, 悲剧性的 | |
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58
substantiate
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| v.证实；证明...有根据 | |
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59
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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60
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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61
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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62
prevaricating
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| v.支吾( prevaricate的现在分词 )；搪塞；说谎 | |
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63
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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64
mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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65
cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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