Was he, with other theorists, responsible for the mad act?
He began to think that Tolstoy is right in his assertion that human progress is a march of ideas—and that the day of revolution by bloodshed has passed. He began to fear that his struggle with Bivens in his long-drawn and fiercely contested lawsuit4 was an act of the same essential quality of blind physical violence. He began to see that the real motive5 back of his struggle was hatred6 of the man—this little counter jumper, who had destroyed his business. It was the irony7 of such a fate that sunk its poisoned dagger8 into his heart. He faced the fact at last without flinching9.
He rose and paced the floor of his library for a half-hour with measured tread. He stopped suddenly and clenched10 his big fists instinctively11.
"I do hate him—with undying, everlasting12 hatred, and I pray God to give me greater strength to hate him more!"
Again the picture of the pale, torn, blood-stained face, with its mute piteous appeal, rose before him. The anger slowly melted out of his heart and the old thought came back:
"How rich is my life after all compared to his!"
And then he made a mental inventory13 of his assets, with sad results. He had tried for a long time not to face those facts. But if he gave up the suit he must face them. He had identified this action at last with his faith in the very existence of justice. To realize that the element of personal hatred was the motive power back of it was a shock to the whole structure of his character.
He rose with sudden determination. He would not surrender. He would fight it out with this little swarthy scoundrel, win or lose. His house was mortgaged, the last dollar of his savings14 he had spent in helping15 others and the money set aside to finish Harriet's course in music had been lost in the panic. He would fight it out somehow and win. But the one thing that must not fail was the perfection of his girl's voice. The court of appeals would certainly render their decision before her next term's work would begin. She could rest during the summer. It would do her good. If he could be firm with his tenants16 and collect his room-rents promptly17 from everyone, the income from his house was still sufficient to pay the interest on the mortgage and give them a little to eat. It would be enough. Food for the soul was more important. He resolved to ask Stuart to collect his rents.
He looked up and Harriet stood smiling at him.
"What an actor you would have made, Papa!" she exclaimed.
"Why?"
"I've been watching you play a great scene, all the characters by yourself."
"A foolish habit, dear!" the father laughed. "Always muttering and talking to myself. I suppose I'll be arrested for a lunatic some day."
He stopped suddenly and looked at Harriet closely.
"Come here, Baby."
She came and stood beside his chair. He pressed her hand tenderly.
"What have you been crying about?" he asked anxiously.
"Oh, nothing much," was the low answer. "I really don't know—perhaps the thing that makes the birds out there in the Square chirp18 while the snow is still on the ground, the feeling that Spring is coming."
"You're keeping something from me, dearest," he whispered, slipping his arm about her waist. "Tell me."
"You really believe in my voice, don't you?" she asked slowly.
"Believe in it? Do I believe in God?"
"Could I go abroad right away and finish my work there?"
She asked the question with such painful intensity19, the father looked up with a start.
"What's the matter, dear?"
The girl slipped her arm around his neck with a sob20.
He bent21 and kissed the golden hair, stroking it fondly until she was calmer.
"Why do you wish to go now, child?" he asked at last.
"I've a confession22 to make, Papa dear."
The little head sank low and the arm tightened23 its grip about his neck.
"What is it, darling? I'm sure it's nothing of which you're ashamed."
"No, something of which I'm proud. Something so sweet and wonderful in itself, the very joy of it I feel sometimes will kill me. I'm in love, desperately24 and hopelessly."
Again a sob caught her voice, and the father's arms drew her to his heart and held her.
"But why hopelessly, my baby?" he asked. "Your hair is beaten gold, your eyes are deep and true, your slender little form has all the symmetry and beauty of a sylph. You are young, radiant, glorious, and your voice the angels would envy."
"But the man I love doesn't realize all that yet, Papa dear. He is bound by the memories of the past to a woman he once loved, a woman who is evil at heart, and though she betrayed him for the lust25 of money, is determined26 to hold him still her slave. But she shall not. I'll fight for him! And you'll help me, Papa, won't you?"
The father drew her close.
"Won't I—just wait and see!—But you haven't told me his name? I've been very blind, I fear."
"You've never guessed?"
She lifted her face to his in surprise.
"No."
"Jim."
"Our Jim Stuart?"
She nodded. Her voice wouldn't work.
"Oh, I see, I see!" the father mused27. "The first love of a child's heart grown slowly into the great passion of life."
Again the little head nodded.
"You understand now why I wish to get away, to finish my work abroad. I'll be nearer to him with the ocean between us. He'll miss me then. I feel it, know it. When I return he will be proud of my voice. I shall go mad if I stay here and see him dangling28 at that woman's heels. I watched her with him to-day, devouring29 him with her eyes, her millions won by his betrayal, yet proud, miserable30, envious31, and determined to wreck32 his life. But I shall return in time to make him know. He loves music. I shall sing when he hears me as I never sang before, and I shall say to him then all the unspoken things I dare not put in speech. You understand, Papa dear, you'll send me away and help me to win?"
The father kissed the trembling lips and answered firmly.
"Yes, I'll raise the money for you right away."
And then for half an hour she lay in his arms while he whispered beautiful thoughts of her future—things he had promised himself to say often before and had not said, until at last she smiled with joy. When he sent her to bed he had kissed the last tear away.
She looked at him wistfully at the door.
"I'm not going to make this fight for fame and money—it's all for the heart of the man I love."
"I understand, dear!" he answered cheerily as he threw her a last kiss.
When she had gone and he heard her door close, he stood for a moment, lost in thought, and then slowly exclaimed:
"And now I've got to surrender."
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1
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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2
entrenched
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| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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3
civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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4
lawsuit
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| n.诉讼，控诉 | |
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5
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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6
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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7
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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8
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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9
flinching
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的现在分词 ) | |
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10
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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12
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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13
inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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14
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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15
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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16
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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17
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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18
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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19
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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20
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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21
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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22
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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23
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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24
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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25
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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26
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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27
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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28
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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29
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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30
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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31
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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32
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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