Nevertheless, dead silence reigned1 everywhere in the court as the clerk of arraigns2 put the solemn question, “Gentlemen, do you find the prisoner at the bar guilty or not guilty?”
And the foreman, clearing his throat huskily, answered in a very tremulous tone, “We find him guilty of wilful3 murder.”
There was a long, deep pause. Every one looked at the prisoner. Guy Waring stood like one stunned4 by the immensity of the blow. It was an awful moment. He knew he was innocent; but he knew now the English law would hang him.
One pair of eyes in the court, however, was not fixed5 on Guy. Elma Clifford, at that final and supreme6 moment, gazed hard with all her soul at Sir Gilbert Gildersleeve. Her glance went through him. She sat like an embodied7 conscience before him. The judge rose slowly, his eyes riveted8 on hers. He was trembling with remorse9, and deadlier pale than ever. An awful lividness stole over his face. His lips were contorted. His eyebrows10 quivered horribly. Still gazing straight at Elma, he essayed to speak. Twice he opened his parched11 lips. Then his voice failed him.
“I cannot accept that finding,” he said at last, in a very solemn tone, battling hard for speech against some internal enemy. “I cannot accept it. Clerk, you will enter a verdict of not guilty.”
A deep hum of surprise ran round the expectant court. Every mouth opened wide, and drew a long hushed breath. Senior counsel for the Crown jumped to his feet astonished. “But why, my lord?” he asked tartly12, thus baulked of his success. “On what ground does your lordship decide to override13 the plain verdict of the jury?”
The pause that followed was inexpressibly terrible. Guy Waring waited for the answer in an agony of suspense14. He knew what it meant now. With a rush it all occurred to him. He knew who was the murderer. But he hoped for nothing. Sir Gilbert faltered15: Elma Clifford’s eyes were upon him still, compelling him. “Because,” he said at last, with a still more evident and physical effort, pumping the words out slowly, “I am here to administer justice, and justice I will administer.... This man is innocent. It was I myself who killed Montague Nevitt that day at Mambury.”
At those awful words, uttered in a tone so solemn that no one could doubt either their truth or their sincerity16, a cold thrill ran responsive through the packed crowd of auditors17. The silence was profound. In its midst, a boy’s voice burst forth18 all at once, directed, as it seemed, to the counsel for the Crown, “I said it was him,” the voice cried, in a triumphant19 tone. “I knowed ‘um! I knowed ‘um! Thik there’s the man that axed me the way down the dell the marnin’ o’ the murder.”
The judge turned towards the boy with a ghastly smile of enforced recognition. “You say the truth, my lad,” he answered, without any attempt at concealment20. “It was I who asked you. It was I who killed him. I went round by the far gate after hearing he was there, and, cutting across the wood, I met Montague Nevitt in the path by The Tangle21. I went there to meet him; I went there to confront him; but not of malice22 prepense to murder him. I wanted to question him about a family matter. Why I needed to question him no one henceforth shall ever know. That secret, thank Heaven, rests now in Montague Nevitt’s grave. But when I did question him, he answered me back with so foul23 an aspersion24 upon a lady who was very near and dear to me”—the judge paused a moment; he was fighting hard for breath; something within was evidently choking him. Then he went on more excitedly—“an aspersion upon a lady whom I love more than life—an insult that no man could stand—an unspeakable foulness25; and I sprang at him, the cur, in the white heat of my anger, not meaning or dreaming to hurt him seriously. I caught him by the throat.” The judge held up his hands before the whole court appealingly. “Look at those hands, gentlemen,” he cried, turning them about. “How could I ever know how hard and how strong they were? I only seemed to touch him. I just pushed him from my path. He fell at once at my feet—dead, dead unexpectedly. Remember how it all came about. The medical evidence showed his heart was weak, and he died in the scuffle. How was I to know all that? I only knew this—he fell dead before me.”
With a face of speechless awe26, he paused and wiped his brow. Not a soul in court moved or breathed above a whisper. It was evident the judge was in a paroxysm of contrition27. His face was drawn28 up. His whole frame quivered visibly. Even Elma pitied him.
“And then I did a grievous wrong,” the judge continued once more, his voice now very thick and growing rapidly thicker. “I did a grievous wrong, for which here to-day, before all this court, I humbly29 ask Guy Waring’s pardon. I had killed Montague Nevitt, unintentionally, unwittingly, accidentally almost, in a moment of anger, never knowing I was killing30 him. And if he had been a stronger or a healthier man, what little I did to him would never have killed him. I didn’t mean to murder him. For that my remorse is far less poignant31. But what I did after was far worse than the murder. I behaved like a sneak—I behaved like a coward. I saw suspicion was aroused against the prisoner, Guy Waring. And what did I do then? Instead of coming forward like a man, as I ought, and saying ‘I did it,’ and standing32 my trial on the charge of manslaughter, I did my best to throw further suspicion on an innocent person. I made the case look blacker and worse for Guy Waring. I don’t condone33 my own crime. I did it for my wife’s sake and my daughter’s, I admit—but I regret it now bitterly—and am I not atoning34 for it? With a great humiliation35, am I not amply atoning for it? I wrote an unsigned letter warning Waring at once to fly the country, as a warrant was out against him. Waring foolishly took my advice, and fled forthwith. From that day to this”—he gazed round him appealingly—“oh, friends, I have never known one happy moment.”
Guy gazed at him from the dock, where he still stood guarded by two strong policemen, and felt a fresh light break suddenly in upon him. Their positions now were almost reversed. It was he who was the accuser, and Sir Gilbert Gildersleeve, the judge in that court, who stood charged to-day on his own confession36 with causing the death of Montague Nevitt.
“Then it was YOU” Guy said slowly, breaking the pause at last, “who sent me that anonymous37 letter at Plymouth?”
“It was I,” the judge answered, in an almost inaudible, gurgling tone. “It was I who so wronged you. Can you ever forgive me for it?”
Guy gazed at him fixedly38. He himself had suffered much. Cyril and Elma had suffered still more. But the judge, he felt sure, had suffered most of all of them. In this moment of relief, this moment of vindication39, this moment of triumph, he could afford to be generous. “Sir Gilbert Gildersleeve, I forgive you,” he answered slowly.
The judge gazed around him with a vacant stare. “I feel cold,” he said, shivering; “very cold, very faint, too. But I’ve made all right HERE,” and he held out a document. “I wrote this paper in my room last night—in case of accident—confessing everything. I brought it down here, signed and witnessed, unread, intending to read it out if the verdict went against me—I mean, against Waring.... But I feel too weak now to read anything further.... I’m so cold, so cold. Take the paper, Forbes-Ewing. It’s all in your line. You’ll know what to do with it.” He could hardly utter a word, breath failed him so fast. “This thing has killed me,” he went on, mumbling40. “I deserved it. I deserved it.”
“How about the prisoner?” the authority from the gaol41 asked, as the judge collapsed42 rather than sat down on the bench again.
Those words roused Sir Gilbert to full consciousness once more. The judge rose again, solemnly, in all the majesty43 of his ermine. “The prisoner is discharged,” he said, in a loud, clear voice. “I am here to do justice—justice against myself. I enter a verdict of not guilty.” Then he turned to the polices “I am your prisoner,” he went on, in a broken, rambling44 way. “I give myself in charge for the manslaughter of Montague Nevitt. Manslaughter, not murder. Though I don’t even admit myself, indeed, it was anything more than justifiable45 homicide.”
He sank back again once more, and murmured three times in his seat, as if to himself, “Justifiable homicide! Justifiable homicide! Just—ifiable homicide!”
Somebody rose in court as he sank, and moved quickly towards him. The judge recognised him at once.
“Granville Kelmscott,” he said; in a weary voice, “help me out of this. I am very, very ill. You’re a friend. I’m dying. Give me your arm! Assist me!”
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收听单词发音
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1
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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arraigns
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| v.告发( arraign的第三人称单数 )；控告；传讯；指责 | |
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3
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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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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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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7
embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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8
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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9
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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override
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| vt.不顾，不理睬，否决；压倒，优先于 | |
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14
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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15
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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16
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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21
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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23
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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24
aspersion
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| n.诽谤，中伤 | |
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foulness
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| n. 纠缠, 卑鄙 | |
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26
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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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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condone
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| v.宽恕；原谅 | |
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atoning
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| v.补偿，赎（罪）( atone的现在分词 )；补偿，弥补，赎回 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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37
anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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39
vindication
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| n.洗冤，证实 | |
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40
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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41
gaol
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| n.(jail)监狱；(不加冠词)监禁；vt.使…坐牢 | |
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42
collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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43
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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44
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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45
justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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