He was seen often and by many persons, always at night, skulking2 in the shadow or riding furiously on a horse. He was fierce and haggard and discourteous3 to travelers, wore a slouch hat which he never took off, and generally kept the lower part of his face muffled4 in a handkerchief. He always went alone. Some said he slept in church-yards, others that he never slept at all, and still others that he was a wicked man who had sold his soul to the Evil One.
One night he rested at the Maypole Inn, and a little while after he had gone, Varden the locksmith, Dolly's father, as he drove home, found Edward Chester lying in the road, having been wounded and robbed of his money. Barnaby Rudge had seen the attack and was bending over him. He had been too frightened to give aid, but from his description Varden knew the robber was the stranger who had stopped at the inn.
The honest locksmith took Edward into his chaise, drove him to Barnaby's house, which was[Pg 84] near by, and left him in care of Mrs. Rudge, where a doctor soon dressed the wound, which was not serious.
Next day Mr. Varden came to see how the wounded man was. As he sat talking with Mrs. Rudge a tapping came at the window. She went to the door. The locksmith heard her cry out, and sprang forward to find standing5 there, to his astonishment6, the robber of the night before. He grasped at him, but the woman threw herself before him, clasped his arm and besought7 him, for her life's sake, not to pursue the man.
The locksmith had known Barnaby's mother all his life, but so strange was her action now (especially since she refused to answer any question, begging him to ask her nothing) that he almost wondered if she herself could be in league with a crime-doer. Her apparent agony touched him, however, and, raising no alarm, he went home in great puzzle of mind.
He would have been far more disturbed if he had known the whole truth. For the mysterious stranger he had seen, who by night had haunted the neighborhood, was none other than Mrs. Rudge's husband, Barnaby's father, the steward8 who everybody believed had been murdered with his master, and whose body had been found in the pond.
Rudge himself had committed that wicked deed. He had killed both master and gardener, and to[Pg 85] cover the crime had put his own clothes, his watch and ring on the latter's body and sunk it in the pond. When, on the night of the murder, he told his wife what he had done, she had shrunk fearfully from him, declaring that, although being his wife she would not give him up to justice, yet she would never own him or shelter him. He had fled then with the money he had stolen, and that night, while she lay sick with horror, Barnaby had been born with his poor crazed brain, the look of terror in his baby face and the birth-mark of blood on his wrist.
For many years the guilty wretch9 had wandered the earth, but he could not escape the knowledge of his deed. And at last his conscience had driven him back to the scene of his crime, friendless, penniless, fearful of the sunlight, slinking by night like a ghost about the house in which he had murdered his master, and hounding his miserable10 wife for money with which to buy food and drink. The poor woman had kept her terrible secret, giving him every coin she could save, striving so that Barnaby, unhappily born as he was, should never know the shame of having his father suffer death on the gallows11. When Rudge had come to her house that day he had thought her alone, and she had saved him from capture only by begging the locksmith to stay his hand.
After his hairbreadth escape from Varden, Rudge hid himself in a narrow street. When the[Pg 86] next dawn came, as he searched for some dark den1 in which he might lie sheltered till another night, he saw Simon Tappertit issuing with his noisy apprentice12 crew from the cellar in which they held their meetings. He entered its door, made friends with the villainous blind man who kept it and there established his headquarters.
Once more, one night after the wounded Edward had been taken to his own home, Rudge hunted out his trembling wife and demanded money, threatening to bring harm to Barnaby if she refused him, and she gave him all she had.
But this time dread13 of him made her desperate. When morning came she went to Haredale and told him that she and her son could no longer live on his bounty14. The next day, with Barnaby, who carried on his back his beloved raven15, Grip, she left the house afoot, telling no one where they were going lest her husband find her out, and pushed far into the country to find a home in some obscure village. And though Rudge, the murderer, and the blind man (who was much more crafty16 and cunning than many men with eyesight) searched for them everywhere, it was a long time before they found any trace.
Perhaps Joe and Dolly Varden missed poor cheery Barnaby more than did any one else. But several events occurred soon after this that gave them other things to think of.
Maypole Hugh, the savage17 hostler, had continued[Pg 87] his spying work for Edward's father, and Sir John determined18 it was high time to break off his son's attachment19 for Emma Haredale.
One day Dolly was carrying a letter from Emma at The Warren to Edward, and as she passed through the fields, Hugh attacked her, throwing his arms around her and pretending to make coarse love to her. She was dreadfully frightened and screamed as loud as she could. Joe, as it happened, was walking within sound of her voice, and ran like the wind to her aid.
In another moment Hugh had leaped the hedge and disappeared and Dolly was sobbing20 in her rescuer's arms. She was afraid to tell Joe who had frightened her, for fear the hostler would take his revenge by harming him, so she only said she had been attacked by a man whom she had never seen.
In her scare she had forgotten all about the letter she had carried, and now she discovered it was gone. It was nowhere to be found.
This, of course, was because Hugh had stolen it. It was to get the letter that he had frightened her, and he was soon on his way to carry it to Sir John. Dolly did not guess this. She wrote to Emma telling her of the mishap21, and this note Joe, to whom she intrusted it, knowing no reason to distrust the hostler, gave to Hugh to deliver. So Sir John got both missives in the end.
Emma Haredale, not understanding why Edward returned no answer to her letter, was hurt,[Pg 88] and thought him cold. Sir John, seizing his opportunity, told her one day (pretending sorrow while he did so) that his son, naturally fickle22, had fallen in love with some one else, to whom he was soon to be married.
Emma, not dreaming the father of the man she loved could be such a false liar23, believed him, and when Edward wrote her, speaking of his poverty and telling her he was going to leave England to try to better his prospects24, she thought his manly25 letter only an excuse to part from her.
Proud, though heartbroken, she did not answer it, and so, thanks to his father's selfish scheming, Edward sailed away to the West Indies, hopeless and despairing.
Another left England at the same time whose going meant far more to Dolly Varden. This was Joe. His father, the innkeeper, had been restraining him more and more, until his treatment had become the jest of the country-side, and Joe had chafed26 to the point of rebellion at the gibes27 that continually met him. One day, at the jeer28 of an old enemy of his, his wrath29 boiled over. He sprang upon him and thrashed him soundly in the inn before the assembled guests. Then, knowing his father would never forgive him, he went to his own room and barricaded30 the door. That night Joe let himself down from his window and before daylight was in London.
He went first to the locksmith's house to tell[Pg 89] Dolly he had run away and that he loved her, but Dolly being a flirt31, only laughed. To tell the truth, she was so very fond of Joe that she didn't like to show him how sorry she was. So the poor fellow went away thinking she cared very little (though as soon as he was out of sight she nearly cried her eyes out), and enlisted32 as a soldier. That same night Joe started from London to fight in the war in America. And it was a long time before either he or Edward Chester was heard of again.
点击收听单词发音
1 den | |
n.兽穴;秘密地方;安静的小房间,私室 | |
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2 skulking | |
v.潜伏,偷偷摸摸地走动,鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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3 discourteous | |
adj.不恭的,不敬的 | |
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4 muffled | |
adj.(声音)被隔的;听不太清的;(衣服)裹严的;蒙住的v.压抑,捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 );用厚厚的衣帽包着(自己) | |
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5 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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6 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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7 besought | |
v.恳求,乞求(某事物)( beseech的过去式和过去分词 );(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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8 steward | |
n.乘务员,服务员;看管人;膳食管理员 | |
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9 wretch | |
n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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10 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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11 gallows | |
n.绞刑架,绞台 | |
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12 apprentice | |
n.学徒,徒弟 | |
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13 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
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14 bounty | |
n.慷慨的赠予物,奖金;慷慨,大方;施与 | |
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15 raven | |
n.渡鸟,乌鸦;adj.乌亮的 | |
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16 crafty | |
adj.狡猾的,诡诈的 | |
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17 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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18 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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19 attachment | |
n.附属物,附件;依恋;依附 | |
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20 sobbing | |
<主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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21 mishap | |
n.不幸的事,不幸;灾祸 | |
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22 fickle | |
adj.(爱情或友谊上)易变的,不坚定的 | |
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23 liar | |
n.说谎的人 | |
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24 prospects | |
n.希望,前途(恒为复数) | |
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25 manly | |
adj.有男子气概的;adv.男子般地,果断地 | |
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26 chafed | |
v.擦热(尤指皮肤)( chafe的过去式 );擦痛;发怒;惹怒 | |
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27 gibes | |
vi.嘲笑,嘲弄(gibe的第三人称单数形式) | |
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28 jeer | |
vi.嘲弄,揶揄;vt.奚落;n.嘲笑,讥评 | |
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29 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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30 barricaded | |
设路障于,以障碍物阻塞( barricade的过去式和过去分词 ); 设路障[防御工事]保卫或固守 | |
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31 flirt | |
v.调情,挑逗,调戏;n.调情者,卖俏者 | |
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32 enlisted | |
adj.应募入伍的v.(使)入伍, (使)参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 );获得(帮助或支持) | |
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