We drove back, a merry party enough, in spite of my failure. Minnie was always so jolly, and her mirth was contagious3. She talked all the way still of Dr. Ivor, half-teasing me. It was all very well my pretending not to remember, she said; but why did I want to see the cricket-field if it wasn’t for that? Poor Courtenay! if only he knew, how delighted he’d be to know he wasn’t forgotten! For he really took it to heart, my illness—she always called it my illness, and so I suppose it was. From the day I lost my memory, nothing seemed to go right with him; and he was never content till he went and buried himself somewhere in the wilds of Canada.
That evening again, I sat with Minnie in my room. I was depressed4 and distressed5. I didn’t want to cry before Minnie, but I could have cried with good heart for sheer vexation. Of course I couldn’t bear to go showing the photograph to all the world, and letting everybody see I’d made myself a sort of amateur detective. They would mistake my motives6 so. And yet I didn’t know how I was ever to find out my man any other way. It was that or nothing. I made up my mind I would ask Cousin Willie.
I took out the photograph, as if unintentionally, when I went to my box, and laid it down with my curling-tongs on the table close by Minnie. Minnie took it up abstractedly and looked at it with an indefinite gaze.
“Why, this is the cricket-field!” she cried, as soon as she collected her senses. “One of your father’s experiments. The earliest acmegraphs. How splendidly they come out! See, that’s Sir Everard at the bottom; and there’s little Jack7 Hillier above; and this on one side’s Captain Brooks8; and there, in front of all—well, you know HIM anyhow, Una. Now, don’t pretend you forget! That’s Courtenay Ivor!”
Her finger was on the man who stood poised9 ready to jump. With an awful recoil10, I drew back and suppressed a scream. It was on the tip of my tongue to cry out, “Why, that’s my father’s murderer!”
But, happily, with a great effort of will I restrained myself. I saw it all at a glance. That, then, was the meaning of Dr. Marten’s warning! No wonder, I thought, the shock had disorganised my whole brain. If Minnie was right, I was in love once with that man. And I must have seen my lover murder my father!
For I didn’t doubt, from what Minnie said, I had really once loved Dr. Ivor. Horrible and ghastly as it might be to realise it, I didn’t doubt it was the truth. I had once loved the very man I was now bent11 on pursuing as a criminal and a murderer!
“You’re sure that’s him, Minnie?” I cried, trying to conceal12 my agitation13. “You’re sure that’s Courtenay Ivor, the man stooping on the wagon-top?”
Minnie looked at me, smiling. She thought I was asking for a very different reason.
“Yes, that’s him, right enough, dear,” she said. “I could tell him among a thousand. Why, the Moore hand alone would be quite enough to know him by. It’s just like my own. We’ve all of us got it—except yourself. I always said you weren’t one of us. You’re a regular born Callingham.”
I gazed at her fixedly14. I could hardly speak.
“Oh, Minnie!” I cried once more, “have you ... have you any photograph of him?”
“No, we haven’t, dear,” Minnie answered.
“That was a fad15 of Courtenay’s, you know. Wherever he went, he’d never be photographed. He was annoyed that day that your father should have taken him unawares. He hated being ‘done,’ he said. He’s so handsome and so nice, but he’s not a bit conceited16. And he was such a splendid bicyclist! He rode over and back on his bicycle that day, and then ran in all the races as if it were nothing.”
A light burst over me at once. This was circumstantial evidence. The murderer who disappeared as if by magic the moment his crime was committed must have come and gone all unseen, no doubt, on his bicycle. He must have left it under the window till his vile17 deed was done, and then leapt out upon it in a second and dashed off whence he came like a flash of lightning.
It was a premeditated crime, in that case, not the mere18 casual result of a sudden quarrel.
I must find out this man now, were it only to relieve my own sense of mystery.
“Minnie,” I said once more, screwing up my courage to ask, “where’s Dr. Ivor now? I mean—that is to say—in what part of Canada?”
Minnie looked at me and laughed.
“There, I told you so!” she said, merrily. “It’s not the least bit of use your pretending you’re not in love with him, Una. Why, just look how you tremble! You’re as white as a ghost! And then you say you don’t care for poor Courtenay! I forget the exact name of the place where he lives, but I’ve got it in my desk, and I can tell you to-morrow.—Oh, yes; it’s Palmyra, on the Canada Pacific. I suppose you want to write to him. Or perhaps you mean to go out and offer yourself bodily.”
It was awful having to bottle up the truth in one’s own heart, and to laugh and jest like this; but I endured it somehow.
“No, it’s not that,” I said gravely. “I’ve other reasons of my own for asking his address, Minnie. I want to go out there, it’s true; but not because I cherish the faintest pleasing recollection of Dr. Ivor in any way.”
Minnie scanned me over in surprise.
“Well, how you ARE altered, Una!” she cried. “I love you, dear, and like you every bit as much as ever. But you’ve changed so much. I don’t think you’re at all what you used to be. You’re so grave and sombre.”
“No wonder, Minnie,” I exclaimed, bursting gladly into tears—the excuse was such a relief—“no wonder, when you think how much I’ve passed through!”
Minnie flung her arms around my neck, and kissed me over and over again.
“Oh, dear!” she cried, melting. “What have I done? What have I said? I ought never to have spoken so. It was cruel of me—cruel, Una dear. I shall stop here to-night, and sleep with you.”
“Oh, thank you, darling!” I cried. “Minnie, that IS good of you. I’m so awfully20 glad. For to-morrow I must be thinking of getting ready for Canada.”
“Canada!” Minnie exclaimed, alarmed. “You’re not really going to Canada! Oh, Una, you’re joking! You don’t mean to say you’re going out there to find him!”
I took her hand in mine, and held it up in the air above her head solemnly.
“Dear cousin,” I said, “I love you. But you must promise me this one thing. Whatever may happen, give me your sacred word of honour you’ll never tell anybody what we’ve said here to-night. You’ll kill me if you do. I don’t want any living soul on earth to know of it.”
I spoke19 so seriously, Minnie felt it was important.
“I promise you,” she answered, growing suddenly far graver than her wont21. “Oh, Una, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean, but no torture on earth shall ever wring22 a word of it from me!”
So I went to bed in her arms, and cried myself to sleep, thinking with my latest breath, in a tremor23 of horror, that I’d found it at last. Courtenay Ivor was the name of my father’s murderer!
点击收听单词发音
1 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 wagon | |
n.四轮马车,手推车,面包车;无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 contagious | |
adj.传染性的,有感染力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 distressed | |
痛苦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 brooks | |
n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 poised | |
a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 recoil | |
vi.退却,退缩,畏缩 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 fixedly | |
adv.固定地;不屈地,坚定不移地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 fad | |
n.时尚;一时流行的狂热;一时的爱好 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 conceited | |
adj.自负的,骄傲自满的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 vile | |
adj.卑鄙的,可耻的,邪恶的;坏透的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 spoke | |
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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 awfully | |
adv.可怕地,非常地,极端地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 wont | |
adj.习惯于;v.习惯;n.习惯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 wring | |
n.扭绞;v.拧,绞出,扭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 tremor | |
n.震动,颤动,战栗,兴奋,地震 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |