And weather the storm he did--thanks to good nursing and a good constitution. When he once took a turn for the better, his progress towards recovery was rapid. But September had come and gone, and the frosts of early winter lay white on meadow and fold, before the doctor's gray pony4 ceased calling at Gatehouse Farm on its daily rounds. Long before this time, however, a feeling of more than ordinary friendship had grown up between Lionel Dering and Tom Bristow. The points of dissimilarity in the characters of the two men were very marked, but it may be that they liked each other none the less on that account. In any case, this dissimilarity of disposition5 lent a piquancy6 to their friendship which it would not otherwise have possessed7.
But who and what was this Mr. Tom Bristow?
The account which he gave of himself to Lionel, one afternoon, when far advanced towards recovery, was somewhat vague and meagre; but it more than satisfied the master of Gatehouse Farm, who was one of the least inquisitive8 of mortals; and, for the present, it will have to satisfy the reader also.
They were sitting on a rustic9 bench just outside the farm porch, basking10 in the genial11 September sunshine. Lionel had his meerschaum between his lips, and was fondling the head of his favourite dog, Osric. Tom Bristow, who never smoked, was busy with a piece of boxwood and a pocket-knife. Little by little he was fashioning the wood into a capital but slightly caricatured likeness12 of worthy doctor Bell--a likeness which the jovial13 medico would be the first to recognize and laugh at when finished. Tom was a slim-built, aquiline-nosed, fair-complexioned, young fellow; rather under than over the ordinary height; and looking younger than he really was--he was six-and-twenty years old--by reason of his perfectly14 smooth and close-shaven face, which cherished not the slightest growth of whiskers, beard, or moustache. Tom's first action on coming to his senses after his accident was to put his hand to his chin, just then bristling15 with a stubble of several days' growth; and his first words to the startled nurse were, "My dear madam, I shall feel greatly obliged by your sending for a barber." His eyes were blue, full of vivacity16, and keenly observant of all that went on around him. He had a very good-natured smile, which showed off to advantage a very white and even set of teeth. His hands and feet were small, and he was rather inclined to be proud of them. His dress, while studiously plain in appearance, was made of the best materials, and owed its origin to one of the most famous of London tailors.
"Dering," said Tom suddenly--they had been sitting for full five minutes without a word--"it is five weeks to-day since you saved my life."
"What a memory you have!"
"Seeing that one's life is not saved every day, I may be excused for remembering the fact, unimportant though it may seem to others. It is five weeks to-day since I was brought to Gatehouse Farm, and during all that time you have never asked me a question about myself or my antecedents. You don't even know whether you have been entertaining a soldier, a sailor, a tinker, a tailor, a what's-his-name, or a thief."
"I didn't wait to ask myself any question of that kind when I went down the cliff in search of you, and I don't see why I need trouble myself now."
"As a matter of simple justice both to you and himself, the mysterious stranger will now throw off his mystery, and appear in the commonplace garb17 of real life."
"I wouldn't bother if I were you," said Lionel. "Your object just now is to get thoroughly18 well. Never mind anything else."
"There's no time like the time present. I'm ashamed of myself for not having spoken to you before."
"If that's the matter with you, I know you must have your say. Proceed, worthy young man, with your narrative19, and get it over as quickly as possible."
"I was born at a little town in the midland counties," began Tom. "My father was chief medical practitioner20 in the place, and attended all the swells21 of the neighbourhood. His intention from the first was to bring me up to the law; so, as soon as I was old enough, he had me articled to old Hoskyns, his bosom22 friend, and the chief solicitor23 in the little town. I didn't like the law--in fact, I hated it; but there seemed no better prospect24 for me at that time, so I submitted to my fate without a murmur25. My father died when I was seventeen, leaving me a fortune of six thousand pounds. I stayed quietly on with Hoskyns till I was twenty-one. The day I was of age, the old gentleman called me into his private room, congratulated me on having attained26 my majority, and asked me in what way I intended to invest my six thousand pounds. 'I am not going to invest it: I am going to speculate with it,' was my answer. The old lawyer looked at me as if I were a madman. 'Going to speculate in what?' he asked faintly. 'Going to speculate on the Stock Exchange,' was my reply. Well, the old gentleman raved27 and stormed, and talked to me as though I were a son of his own, even hinting at a possible partnership28 in time to come. But my mind had long been made up, and nothing he had to say could move me. It seemed to me that in my six thousand pounds I had the foundation of a fortune which might in time grow into something colossal29. It is true that the course I had laid down for myself was not without its risks. It was quite possible that instead of building up a large fortune, I should lose the little one I had already. Well, should that black day ever come, it would be time enough then to think of going back to Hoskyns, and of settling down for life as the clerk of a provincial30 lawyer.
"My father's death left me without any relations, except some far-away cousins whom I had never seen. There was nothing to keep me in my native town, so I set out for London, with many prophecies of coming ruin ringing in my ears. I hired a couple of cheap rooms in a quiet city court, and set up in business as a speculator, and to that business I have stuck ever since."
"Which is as much as to say that you have been successful in it," said Lionel.
"I have been successful in it. Not perhaps quite so successful as my sanguine31 youthful hopes led me to believe I should be; but still sufficiently32 so to satisfy myself that in choosing such a career I did not choose altogether unwisely."
"But how is it possible," said Lionel, "that you, a raw country lad of one and twenty, could go and settle down in the great world of London; and, without experience of your own, or any friendly hand to guide you, could venture to play at a game which exercises some of the keenest intellects of the age--and not only venture to play at it, but rise from it a winner?"
"The simplest answer to that question would be, that I did do it. But really, after all, the matter is not a very difficult one. I have always been guided by three or four very simple rules, and so long as I stick to them, I don't think I can go very far amiss. I never invest all my money in one or even two speculations33, however promising34 they may seem. I never run great risks for the sake or problematical great profits. Let my profits be small but sure, and I am quite content. Lastly, I put my money, as far as possible, into concerns that I can examine personally for myself, even though I should have to make a journey of three hundred miles to do it. See the affair with your own eyes, judge it for yourself, and then leave it for your common sense to decide whether you shall put your money into it or no. In all such professions, natural aptitude--the gift that we possess almost unconsciously to ourselves--is the grand secret of success."
"Success in your case means that you are, on the high road to being a millionaire?"
"Now you are laughing at me."
"Not at all. I am only judging you by your own standard."
"And is the standard such a very poor one?"
"Not a poor one at all, as the world goes. I should like very much to be a millionaire."
"To say that I am not richer to-day than I was the day I was twenty-one would not be true," said Tom, with a demure35 smile. "I am years and years, half a lifetime at the very least, from being a millionaire--if; indeed, I ever live to be one. But I no longer live in two cheap rooms in the city, and dine at an eating-house for fifteen pence. I have very nice chambers36 just out of Piccadilly, where you must look me up when you are next in town. I belong to a club where I have an opportunity of meeting good people--by 'good people' I mean people who may some day be useful to me in my struggle through life. Finally, I ride my hack37 in the Park two or three afternoons a week during the season, and am on bowing terms with a duchess."
"I can no longer doubt that you are a rising man," said Lionel, with a laugh.
"My head is full of schemes of one kind or another," said Tom, a little wearily. "Or rather it was full of them before I met with that confounded accident. In one or the other of those schemes the duchess will play her part like any other pawn38 that may be on my chess-board at the time. There is no keener speculator in the whole City of London than her Grace of Leamington."
"What a martyrdom it must seem to you to be shut up here, in this dull old house, so far away from the exciting life you have learned to love so well!"
"A martyrdom, Dering? It is anything but that. Had I been well in health, I can't tell what my feelings might have been. I should probably have considered it a waste of time to have spent a month, either here or anywhere else, in absolute idleness. But being ill, and having just been dragged back, by main force as it were, from Death's very door, I cannot tell you how grateful, how soothing39 to me is the quietude of this old spot. If, now and then, when I feel better and stronger, there come moments when I long to glance over the money article of 'The Times,' or to write a long, impatient letter to my broker40 in London, there are days and nights when such things have no longer the faintest interest for me--times when bare life itself seems a burden almost too heavy for endurance, and all my ambitious schemes and speculations nothing more than a tissue of huge mistakes."
"Your old interest in everyday matters will gradually come back to you as you grow better," said Lionel, "and with it will come the desire to be up and doing."
"I suppose you are right," said Tom. "It would never do for a little illness to change the plans and settled aims of a lifetime."
"No chance of your settling down here at Gatehouse Farm as Hermit41 Number Two?"
Tom shook his head and laughed. "Do you know, Dering," he said, "that you are one of the greatest riddles42, one of the most incomprehensible fellows, it was ever my fortune to meet with! But, pardon me," he added hastily. "Of all men in the world, you are the one to whom I ought least to say such words."
"Nothing of the kind," said Lionel, with a smile. "I like your frankness. I am aware that many people look upon me as a sort of harmless lunatic, though what there is so incomprehensible about me I am at a loss to imagine."
"You will forgive me for saying so," said Tom, "but to me it seems such an utter pity to see a man of your education and abilities wasting the best years of his life in a place like this, with no society but that of fishermen and boors43: to see a man, young and strong in health, so utterly44 indifferent to all the ordinary claims of civilized45 life--to all the aims and ambitions by which the generality of his fellow men are actuated, to the bright career which he might carve out for himself, if he would but take the trouble to do so."
"Ah, that is just it, mon ami: if I would but take the trouble to do so! But is the game really worth the candle? To me, I confess that it is not."
Tom shrugged46 his shoulders.
"I know that you can afford to pity me--that you look upon me as a sort of good-natured imbecile."
"No--no!" in energetic protest from Tom.
"But what have you to pity me for?" asked Lionel, without heeding47 the interruption. "I have enough to eat and drink, I have a roof to cover me, and a bed to sleep on. In these important matters I should be no better off if I had ten thousand a-year. As for the society of boors and fishermen, believe me, there is more strength of character, more humour, more pathos48, more patient endurance of the ills of this life, and a firmer trust in Providence49, among these simple folk than I ever found among those whom you would term my equals in the social scale. Then your ambitions and aims, dignify50 them with what fine names you will, what are they, nine times out of ten, but the mere51 vulgar desire to grow rich as quickly as possible! So long as I can earn my bread by the sweat of my brow, and owe no man a penny, I am perfectly satisfied."
"Argue as you will, Dering, this is neither the place nor the position for a man like you."
"So long as the place and position suit me, and I them, we shall remain in perfect accord, and no longer," said Lionel. "I never said that it was my intention to live a hermit all my life; but at present I am perfectly satisfied."
Again and again, before Tom Bristow's enforced stay at Gatehouse Farm came to an end, was the same subject broached52 between him and Lionel, but always with the same result. As Lionel often said to himself, he was utterly without ambition. He was like a man whose active career in the world was at an end; who knowing that life could have no more prizes in store for him, had settled down quietly in his old age, content to let the race go by, and wait uncomplainingly for the end. It is probable, nay53, almost certain, that had his uneventful life at Gatehouse Farm been destined54 to last much longer, old desires and feelings would gradually have awakened55 within him; that in time he would have found his way again into that busy world on which he had turned his back in a transient fit of disgust, and there have fought the fight before him like the good and true man he really was at heart.
As days went on, Tom Bristow's strength gradually came back to him, and with it came a restlessness, and a desire to be up and doing that was inherent in his disposition. Long before he was allowed down stairs, he had discovered that the old case clock in the kitchen had a trick of indicating the hours peculiar56 to itself, sometimes omitting to strike them at all, and sometimes going as high as a hundred and fifty; besides which, its qualities as a timekeeper were not to be depended on. To Tom's orderly and accurate mind the old clock was a great annoyance57, so the very first day he came down stairs he took the works entirely58 to pieces. Then, little by little, as his strength would allow him, he cleaned them, put them together again, regulated them, and finally turned the old clock into so accurate a timekeeper that Mrs. Bevis, Lionel's housekeeper59, was quite disturbed in her mind for several days, because she had no longer any mental calculations to go through before she could be really sure as to the hour. Then, after he had got still stronger, Tom went systematically60 through all the locks in the house, repairing and putting into thorough working order all that required it. Then he mended the kitchen window, and put up a couple of shelves for Mrs. Bevis in the dairy--all done as neatly61 as any workman could have done them. In little jobs of this sort Tom took great delight now that he had so many leisure hours on his hands.
But presently there began to arrive at Gatehouse Farm an intermittent62 stream of letters, newspapers, pamphlets, and blue books, the like of which had never been known within the memory of the oldest man in the village. Lionel himself stared sometimes when he saw them, but they all had a business interest for Tom, who now began to spend a great portion of his time in receiving and answering letters. Such books as there happened to be in Lionel's small library that had any interest for him--and they were very few indeed--he exhausted63 during the early days of his illness. How a sensible man could possibly prefer Browning to the money article of "The Times," or an essay by Elia to the account of a great railway meeting, was matter of intense wonderment to Tom. Poets, novelists, essayists, should be left to women, and to men whose fortunes were already made: but for men with a career still before them; for pushing, striving men of the world, such reading was a sheer waste of valuable time.
But let Tom Bristow be as worldly-minded as he might be, Lionel Dering could not help liking64 him, and it was with sincere regret he saw the day drawing near when he and his new-found friend must part. With all Tom's shrewdness and keen love of money-getting, there was a rare unselfishness about him; and it was probably this fine trait of character, so seldom found in a man of his calibre, that drew Lionel so closely to him. As for Tom, he had never met with anyone before whose character interested him so profoundly as did that of Dering. Out of that interest grew a liking almost brotherly in its warmth for the strange young hermit of Gatehouse Farm. When the day came for these two men to part, they felt as if they had known each other for years. At the last moment they shook hands without a word. Tears stood in Tom's eyes. Lionel would not trust himself to speak for fear of breaking down. One long last grip, then the horses sprang forward, and Torn was gone. Lionel turned slowly indoors, feeling more lonely and sad at heart than he had done since the day his darling Edith was lost to him for ever.
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1
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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piquancy
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| n.辛辣，辣味，痛快 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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basking
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| v.晒太阳，取暖( bask的现在分词 )；对…感到乐趣；因他人的功绩而出名；仰仗…的余泽 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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12
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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15
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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21
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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23
solicitor
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| n.初级律师，事务律师 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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25
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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27
raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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28
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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colossal
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| adj.异常的，庞大的 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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31
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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42
riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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43
boors
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| n.农民( boor的名词复数 )；乡下佬；没礼貌的人；粗野的人 | |
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44
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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45
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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46
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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47
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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48
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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49
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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50
dignify
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| vt.使有尊严；使崇高；给增光 | |
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51
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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52
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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53
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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54
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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55
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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56
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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57
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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58
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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59
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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60
systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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61
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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62
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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63
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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