He went to bed in a calmer frame of mind than he had known for days. His sleep was deep and refreshing4 and for the second time since he came to New York he woke with the dawn. He watched the light of the coming sun spread from the eastern horizon until its gray mantle5 covered the world. And then came the first dim notes of the call of the morning to the great city, and then the long dull roar along the line of battle where millions were rising and girding themselves for the struggle of life.
He drew a breath of gratitude6 for the dawn of a new day, God's miracle of love—the old weariness gone, the loneliness and heartache easier to bear because new thoughts and new hopes had begun dimly to stir and the world was suddenly flooded with the glory of a new sun.
He went to his office with his mind keyed to a higher pitch of power. He felt that he was on his mettle7. The fight was not yet won, but this morning he was winning. He plunged8 into his work with tireless zeal9. Everything he touched seemed illumined with a new light.
At the close of the day's work he was still conscious of an exhaustless pity which had found no adequate expression in his labour on his clients' cases. His mind wandered to the dark silent millions into whose world the doctor had led him that night—millions who have no voice in courts because they have no money to sustain a fight for the enforcement of justice. He had never thought about these people before. They were calling now for his help. Why? Because he had been endowed with powers of head and heart which they did not possess. The possession of these gifts carried a responsibility. He fell this very dimly as yet, but still he felt it. Never before had he been conscious of such an idea.
On reaching his club on Gramercy Park he saw that the Primrose10 house was closed. Nan's mother had gone with the bridal party on Bivens's big yacht for a cruise which would last through the summer. Somehow, for all his brave talk he didn't feel equal to the task of seeing that window of Nan's old home from his club. He was about to beat a retreat when he stopped abruptly11 and the lines of his mouth tightened12.
"What's the use of being a coward? I've got to get used to it—I'd as well begin at once."
He deliberately13 took his seat on the little pillared balcony of the clubhouse and watched the darkened window through the gathering14 twilight15. For the moment he gave up the fight—the devil had him by the throat. He let the tears come without protest. He was alone and the shadows were friendly.
He looked at his watch at last by the flickering16 light of the street lamp and found to his surprise that it was nine o'clock. He had forgotten to eat and felt no hunger. But he must do something. He might get drunk and make a night of it. He couldn't feel any worse. He was in hell anyway, and he had as well join the festivities for once.
He stepped inside, touched a bell and ordered a cocktail17. He placed the glass on the little table by his side, and looked at it. What an asinine18 act, this pouring of poison into the stomach to cure a malady19 of the soul! He smiled cynically20 and suddenly recalled something the doctor was fond of repeating.
"My boy, I'm rich so long as there are millions of people in the world poorer than I am."
Perhaps there was an antidote21 better than this poison. If he could lift the curtain for a single moment in another life more hopeless and wretched than his? It was worth trying.
He rose, left the liquor untouched, and in a few minutes was treading his way through the throngs22 of the lower East Side. The pathetic figure of a sleeping boy curled up beside a doorstep caught his eye—he stopped and looked at him. Somewhere on this green earth a mother had bent24 over the cradle of each of these little wild arabs and taught them human speech at least! Now they were as the beasts of the field—and worse—for the fields in which beasts roam at least are free. A great wave of pity swept his heart and the hurt of his own tragedy began to ease before the greater pain of the world. How happy his fate after all—a sound mind in a sound body, youth, strength, power, friends, culture, the inheritance of proud, untainted blood—what a fool he had been an hour ago!
His eye caught the light streaming from a basement saloon on the corner. Crowds of ugly looking wretches25 were hurrying down the rickety stairs, and the sound of wheezy dance-hall music floated up from below. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and entered.
The ceiling was low, and a crowd of more than fifty half-drunken men and women, smoking and drinking stale beer, sat at the little tables which were placed against the walls. The centre of the room was kept clear for the dancers. He was amazed to find among them a lot of boys and girls not out of their teens. Many of the dark-visaged brutes27 who sat at the tables watching the dancers were beyond a doubt professional thieves and crooks28.
Here and there he saw one of them nod to a girl who was dancing with a boy under age. He knew the meaning of that signal. She was his slave and he lived on her wages. Was there no crime in all the catalogue of human infamy29 to which man would not stoop for money!
The wheezy little orchestra of three pieces began a waltz, and the dancers swung around the tobacco-fogged room. Stuart rose in disgust to go, when he stopped near the door suddenly frozen to the spot. A fat beastly Negro swept by encircling the frail30 figure of a while girl. Her dress was ragged31 and filthy32, but the delicate lines of her face, with its pure Grecian profile, and high forehead bore the stamp of breeding and distinction. Two red spots on her cheeks and the unnatural33 brightness of her big blue eyes told only too plainly that Death had marked her as his own.
To the young Southerner the sight was one of incredible horror. His first impulse on recovery from this surprise was to rush in, knock this Negro down and take the girl to a place of safety.
He looked about among all the men who filled the room, for a single face in which was left a trace of human pride. With one to stand by him, it could be done. He looked in vain. To strike alone in such a den1 of beasts would be the act of a madman.
Quivering with rage he took a seat and watched the Negro send this girl from side to side of the room to do his bidding. He made up his mind to track the brute26 to his lair34 and tear her from his claws, no matter what the cost. The Negro suddenly beckoned35 to the girl and she left with him.
Stuart followed close on their heels. Two blocks from the place the black figure stopped and demanded her money. She fumbled36 nervously37 in the folds of her filthy skirt and drew from her pocket some small coins. He turned it over in his greasy38 palm with a sneer40.
"All right fur ez hit goes, but come over wid de res'."
"It's all I've got—I swear it is," she sobbed41.
He glared at her with a savage42 growl43.
"You're a liar44!"
"It's true—I swear it's true!" the trembling voice pleaded.
"Didn't I tell ye las' night I'd kill ye if ye didn't do better to-day?"
"Please, don't beat me again—I've done the best I could——"
Strangling and trembling with rage Stuart edged his way close, keeping his form out of range of the Negro's eyes. The brute was looking neither to the right or left now, his whole being absorbed in the cruel joy of the torture he was about to inflict45 on the helpless, cringing46 thing that clung to his arm sobbing47 and begging for mercy.
"Den ef you'se done de bes' you could—I'se gwine ter teach ye ter do better!" His yellow teeth in their blue gums flashed in a devilish smile. He gripped the slender little wrists in one of his claws and doubled his fist to strike, as a blow from Stuart caught him in the neck and laid him on the pavement. The young lawyer sprang on the prostrate48 figure with fury. It was the joyous49 work of a minute to beat and choke him into insensibility. He rose and gave the black form a parting kick that rolled him into the gutter50, turned to the crouching51 white figure and said sharply:
"Come with me."
Without a word she followed timidly behind.
He stopped and spoke52 tenderly:
"Don't walk behind me."
"I'm not fit to walk beside you," she answered meekly53.
"I'll be the judge of that. You're a woman. My mother was a woman. And I'm a little bit ashamed of myself to-night for living in such a world as this without having killed somebody."
She hung her head and tried to walk by his side, instinctively54 shrinking back.
He stopped to ask an officer the way to the Crittenden Mission. Somewhere he had read that a merchant by the name of Crittenden whose heart was broken over the death of a little girl had given all he possessed55 to found and endow missions for saving other men's daughters.
The girl heard his question and looked up into his face with a new terror in her feverish56 eyes.
"Won't they lock me up?"
Stuart took the cold thin hand in his.
"Not unless they lock me up too, child. Don't worry. I'm a lawyer. I'll see that no harm comes to you."
"All right. I'll do just as you say," she responded gratefully.
When the matron at the Mission had soothed57 away the poor creature's last fear, Stuart turned to go.
The girl stepped quickly forward as he extended his hand.
"Good-bye, child, I hope you'll soon be better. If I can help you, let me know. I'm glad to have had the chance to be of service to you to-night. You have done more for me than I have for you. I am very grateful."
The unnaturally58 bright eyes gazed into his as if they didn't quite understand, and then through the tears she slowly said:
"You have saved me from hell. I'm afraid I haven't long to live. I'll only ask God that it shall be long enough for me to show you how grateful I am."
Stuart walked home with a sense of spiritual elation59 he had never felt before. For the first time he had given himself utterly60 without the hope of reward. A new joy filled his heart with a warm glow. Life began to take a deep, new meaning. The boundaries of the world had been extended to include millions whose existence he had ignored. How vast and thrilling their life! As yet, no new purpose had shaped itself within, but his soul was stirring with vague, mighty61 impulses.
When he reached the house on Washington Square it was yet early in the evening. He longed for the sweet restfulness which Harriet's presence always brought. He had often come home from a visit to Nan, which had been a continuous torture, to find in her a grateful peace. How strange that we so often love those who have the supreme62 faculty63 of torturing instead of making us happy. He found Harriet reading in the library.
"Oh, Jim, dear, where on earth have you been for nearly two days?" she cried. "I haven't seen you since the wedding——"
"Won't you sing for me?" he broke in.
A smile of pride made her face radiant.
"You want to hear me this late?"
"Yes—you'll not disturb anybody."
"All right——" she paused and suddenly clapped her hands. "I'll get my mandolin. You've never heard me play that, have you? I've learned 'Way down on the Swannee Ribber' on it. I know you'll like it."
She ran up the stairs and returned in a moment with the mandolin. Softly touching64 a note, she seated herself and began to sing, accompanying her song with the little half-doubtful touch on the plaintive65 strings66.
Stuart listened, entranced. He had heard that old song of the South a hundred times. But she was singing it to-night with a strange new power. Or was it his imagination? He listened with keen and more critical ears. No. It was not his imagination. The change was in her voice. He heard with increasing wonder. The quivering notes of tenderness sought his inmost being and stirred the deepest emotion—not with memories of his boyhood days in the South whose glory the song was telling—but in visions of the future, thoughts of great deeds to be done and heroic sacrifice to be endured.
How selfish his life had been after all. Every dream and struggle had been for himself. A feeling of shame overspread his soul as he watched the girl's soft little hand touch the strings, and he contrasted his own life with the sweetness of her spirit. In all the years he had known her he could not recall a single mean or selfish act. Her face was not beautiful by the standard of artists, but the sunlight lingered in her eyes, her hands were cunning, and her feet swift to serve those she loved. For the last two years as she had blossomed into maidenhood67, a subtle fragrance68 had enveloped69 her being, making significant and charming all she said or did, revealing new beauty and grace at every turn.
From some shadowy memory of a Sunday's service in his boyhood came floating into his heart the words "He that seeketh to save his life shall lose it."
The groping hand that had been fumbling70 in the dark suddenly touched the hidden spring, and the darkened soul was flooded with light. A strange peace entered to abide71 forever. A man had been born again—of the spirit, not the flesh.
The rapt look still held his face when the music had ceased, and Harriet watched his expression for a moment in silence.
The girl leaned forward at last with eager interest and laid her friendly hand on his. She had a trick of leaning forward like that when talking to him that had always amused Stuart.
He watched the flashes of light in her eyes beneath their long lashes72 and the quiver of the mobile mouth.
"Tell me what you are thinking about, Jim?" she said, a smile flitting around her tender, expressive73 eyes.
Stuart noticed two dainty dimples come with the smile in the faintest suggestion of coquetry.
"I was seeing a vision, little pal39," he began slowly—"the vision of a gala night of Grand opera. Broadway blazed with light and I was fighting my way through the throng23 at the entrance to hear a great singer whose voice had begun to thrill the world. At last amid a hush74 of intense silence, she came before the footlights, saw and conquered. The crowd went mad with enthusiasm. For once an American audience forgot its cold self-possession. Men leaped on their seats, cheered and shouted as Frenchmen or Italians. Women in resplendent gowns and jewels rose in their boxes and split their gloves clapping their hands. And through it all the singer stood bowing in simple dignity, looking over the sea of faces as if in search of one she knew. I lifted my hat and waved it on high until she saw. A beautiful smile lighted her face and straight over the heads of the people she blew me a kiss——"
'I was seeing a vision, little pal'
"'I was seeing a vision, little pal'"
The tiniest frown clouded the girl's brow.
"Who was she, Jim?"
"One who shall yet sing before Kings and Princes—I call her 'Sunshine'—her name is Harriet Woodman."
With a sigh of relief she threw herself back in the big armchair in a pose of natural grace, her lips twitched75, the golden head tipped to one side thoughtfully, and he waited for her to speak.
"But, Jim, suppose I'm not ambitious? Suppose I'm just a silly little home body who only wishes to be loved?"
"And so you will be loved. They will come in troops—these lovers—serious and gay, and fall at your feet——"
"But if I only want one—and he is not there—they will tire me, won't they?"
"When I see those two dimples come into your cheeks now and then I think you will enjoy it."
"Perhaps I would."
The head nodded in quick friendly understanding. She raised her arms and touched the bow of ribbon on her luxuriant hair with another suggestion of coquetry, quickly lowered them, drew the short skirt down further over her knees, gazed thoughtfully at Stuart, and with a quizzical look in her eyes asked:
"How old do you think a girl must be to really and deeply and truly love, Jim?"
Stuart's brow contracted and he took her hand in his, stroked it tenderly and studied the beautiful lines as they melted from the firmly shaped wrist into the rounded arm and gracefully77 moulded body.
"I'm afraid you've asked a bigger question than I can answer, dear," he said, with serious accent. "I've been wondering lately whether the world hasn't lost the secret of happy mating and marrying. A more beautiful even life I have never seen than the one in the home of my childhood. Yet my mother was only fourteen and my father twenty-one when they were married. You see, dear, that was in the old days when boys and girls were not afraid—when love dared to laugh at cares about houses and lands and goods and chattels78, when Nature claimed her own, when the voices of the deepest impulses of our bodies and souls were heard first and the chatterings about careers and social triumphs were left to settle themselves. Now folks only allow themselves to marry in cold blood, calculating with accuracy their bank accounts. My mother had been married six months at your age, and yet here I sit on a pedestal and have the impudence79 to talk to you as a child——"
"But you're not impudent80, Jim," she broke in eagerly, "and I understand."
Her eyes were looking steadily81 into his.
"I'm beginning to wonder," Stuart continued, "whether Nature made a mistake when she made woman as she is. I once knew a girl of fifteen to whom I believe life was the deepest tragedy or the highest joy of which her heart will ever be capable. Else why did the blood come and go so quickly in her cheeks?"
A sudden flush mantled82 Harriet's face and she turned away that he might not see.
"Why did she fuel the loud beating of her heart at the approach of the man she imagined to be her hero? Why did she drop her eyes in confusion——"
The deep brown eyes were looking into his now with a steady light. She had mastered herself and he could not guess her secret. Her heart beat so loudly she wondered if he could hear.
Stuart's voice had grown dreamy, as if a thousand tender memories were trooping into his heart from the past and he was talking to himself.
"Why were her hands so moist and warm to the touch of the boy who held them, and why did they tremble so violently? Why did she turn so pale?—so pale and so suddenly, he thought she was about to faint? When again in life can one see this moment of the blossoming of both soul and body—this quivering readiness for the touch of the lover for whose coming she waits with such frank and honest eagerness?"
Again the little figure bent forward with breathless interest as she slowly asked:
"Oh, Jim, when did you see this?"
Stuart's head bent low and rested between his hands.
"I loved such a little girl once, dear——"
Harriet's face suddenly flushed with joy. It was too wonderful to be true, but it was true! And he had chosen this curious way to tell her. Her voice sank to the softest whisper as she bent closer:
"And you love her still, Jim?"
His head drooped83 lower as he sighed:
"I loved and lost her, little pal! She was married two days ago. God called me in the morning of life to claim my own. But I wasn't bold enough. I waited, and worldly wisdom, prudence84, and common sense became her tutors to make her wise. She came to the great city, learned its ways and sold herself for gold. A priest of God standing76 before his altar confirmed the sale while a crowd of fools looked on in awe——"
The colour had slowly returned to the little freckled85 face with its crown of golden hair, and the deep brown eyes overflowed86 with tears for just a moment. She brushed them away before he raised his head, so that he never knew.
She put her hand on his head and stroked the dark hair tenderly.
"I'm so sorry, Jim," she said simply, "I understand now."
He raised his head and took her hand in his again.
"It's very sweet to have you share this ugly secret of my life, little pal. It will help me."
"And you are sorry you ever knew her, Jim?"
"No, I'm not sorry. You see, dearie, there's just one thing even God can't do—create a human character. He can only give us a will—the spark from his own soul. We must do the rest. I've grown to see that there's just one thing in the world that's really big—big as God is big—the man who has attained87 a character. I haven't lived at all yet. I'm just beginning to see what it means to live. Until now I've thought only of myself. A new light has illumined the way. Now—I'm going to live for others. From to-day I shall ask nothing for myself, and I can never be disappointed again."
Harriet looked up quickly.
"Would it please you, Jim, if I should make a great singer?"
"More than I can tell you, dear. Your voice is a divine gift. I envy you its power."
Her eyes were shining with a great purpose.
"I know that it means years and years of patient work—but I'll do it," she cried.
Stuart rose and pressed her hand to his lips. She wondered if he could feel it tremble beneath the pounding of her heart.
When the last echo of his footstep in the hall above died away and his door had closed, the little golden head bowed low in a passionate88 tender prayer:
"God help me to keep my secret and yet to love and help him always!"
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收听单词发音
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1
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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3
shred
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| v.撕成碎片，变成碎片；n.碎布条，细片，些少 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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5
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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8
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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primrose
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| n.樱草，最佳部分， | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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16
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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asinine
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| adj.愚蠢的 | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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cynically
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| adv.爱嘲笑地，冷笑地 | |
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antidote
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| n.解毒药，解毒剂 | |
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throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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crooks
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| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
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infamy
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| n.声名狼藉，出丑，恶行 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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pal
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| n.朋友，伙伴，同志；vi.结为友 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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41
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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42
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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43
growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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44
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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45
inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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46
cringing
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| adj.谄媚，奉承 | |
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47
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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48
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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50
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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51
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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52
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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53
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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54
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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58
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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elation
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| n.兴高采烈，洋洋得意 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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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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faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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67
maidenhood
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| n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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69
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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71
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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72
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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75
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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76
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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77
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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78
chattels
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| n.动产，奴隶( chattel的名词复数 ) | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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81
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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82
mantled
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| 披着斗篷的，覆盖着的 | |
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83
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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84
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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85
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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86
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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87
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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88
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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