The fine old house seemed to slowly melt in the starlight into a solemn Court of Justice set on the highest hill of the world. Its white boards were hewn slabs2 of gleaming marble, its quaint3 old Colonial door the grand entrance to the Judgment4 Hall of Life and Death. And the judge who sat on the high dais was not the blind figure of tradition, but a blushing little bride he had led to God's altar four years ago. Her blue eyes were burning into the depths of his trembling soul.
His hand gripped the post and he tried to pull himself together, and look the ugly situation in the face. But it was too sudden. He had repented5 and was living a clean life, and the shock was so unexpected, its coming so unforeseen, the stroke at a moment when his spirits had climbed so high, the fall was too great. He lay a mangled6 heap at the foot of a precipice7 and could as yet only stretch out lame8 hands and feel in the dark. He could see nothing clearly.
A curious thing flashed through his benumbed mind[Pg 117] as his gaze fascinated by the light in her room. She had not yet sent for him. He might have passed a messenger on the other side of the street, or he may have gone to the Capitol by another way, yet he was somehow morally sure that no word had as yet been sent. It could mean but one thing—that his wife had utterly9 refused to believe the girl's story. This would make the only sane10 thing to do almost impossible. If he could humbly11 confess the truth and beg for her forgiveness, the cloud might be lifted and her life saved.
But if she blindly refused to admit the possibility of such a sin, the crisis was one that sickened him. He would either be compelled to risk her life with the shock of confession12, or lie to her with a shameless passion that would convince her of his innocence13.
Could he do this? It was doubtful. He had never been a good liar14. He had taken many a whipping as a boy sooner than lie. He had always dared to tell the truth and had felt a cruel free joy somehow in its consequence. He had been reserved and silent in his youth when he had sowed his wild oats before his marriage. He had never been forced to lie about that. No questions had been asked. He had kept his own counsel and that side of his life was a sealed book even to his most intimate friends.
He had never been under the influence of liquor and knew how to be a good fellow without being a fool. The first big lie of his life he was forced to act rather than speak when Cleo had entered his life. This lie had not yet shaped itself into words. And he doubted his ability to carry it off successfully. To speak the truth simply and plainly had become an ingrained habit. He trembled at the possibility of being compelled[Pg 118] to deliberately15 and continuously lie to his wife. If he could only tell her the truth—tell her the hours of anguish16 he had passed in struggling against the Beast that at last had won the fight—if he could only make her feel to-night the pain, the shame, the loathing17, the rage that filled his soul, she must forgive.
But would she listen? Had the child-mind that had never faced realities the power to adjust itself to such a tragedy and see life in its wider relations of sin and sorrow, of repentance18 and struggle to the achievement of character? There was but one answer:
"No. It would kill her. She can't understand——"
And then despair gripped him, his eyes grew dim and he couldn't think. He leaned heavily on the gate in a sickening stupor19 from which his mind slowly emerged and his fancy began to play pranks20 with an imagination suddenly quickened by suffering into extraordinary activity.
A katydid was crying somewhere over his head and a whip-poor-will broke the stillness with his weird21 call that seemed to rise from the ground under his feet. He was a boy again roaming the fields where stalwart slaves were working his father's plantation22. It was just such a day in early spring when he had persuaded Andy to run away with him and go swimming in Buffalo23 creek24. He had caught cold and they both got a whipping that night. He remembered how Andy had yelled so loud his father had stopped. And how he had set his little jaws25 together, refused to cry and received the worst whipping of his life. He could hear Andy now as he slipped up to him afterward26, grinning and chuckling28 and whispered:
"Lordy, man, why didn't ye holler? You don't know[Pg 119] how ter take er whippin' nohow. He nebber hurt me no mo' dan a flea29 bitin'!"
And then his mind leaped the years. Cleo was in his arms that night at old Peeler's and he was stroking her hair as he would have smoothed the fur of a frightened kitten. That strange impulse was the beginning—he could see it now—and it had grown with daily contact, until the contagious30 animal magnetism31 of her nearness became resistless. And now he stood a shivering coward in the dark, afraid to enter his own house and look his wife in the face.
Yes, he was a coward. He acknowledged it with a grim smile—a coward! This boastful, high-strung, self-poised leader of men! He drew his tall figure erect32 and a bitter laugh broke from his lips. He who had led men to death on battlefields with a smile and a shout! He who had cried in anguish the day Lee surrendered! He who, in defeat, still indomitable and unconquered, had fired the souls of his ruined people and led them through riot and revolution again to victory!—He was a coward now and he knew it, as he stood there alone in the stillness of the Southern night and looked himself squarely in the face.
His heart gave a throb33 of pity as he recalled the scenes during the war, when deserters and cowards had been led out in the gray dawn and shot to death for something they couldn't help.
It must be a dream. He couldn't realize the truth—grim, hideous34 and unthinkable. He had won every fight as the leader of his race against overwhelming odds35. He had subdued36 the desperate and lawless among his own men until his word was law. He had rallied the shattered forces of a defeated people and inspired them[Pg 120] with enthusiasm. He had overturned the negroid government in the state though backed by a million bayonets in the hands of veteran battle-tried soldiers. He had crushed the man who led these forces, impeached37 and removed him from office, and hurled38 him into merited oblivion, a man without a country. He had made himself the central figure of the commonwealth39. In the dawn of manhood he had lived already a man's full life. A conquered world at his feet, and yet a little yellow, red-haired girl of the race he despised, in the supreme40 hour of triumph had laid his life in ruins. He had conquered all save the Beast within and he must die for it—it was only a morbid41 fancy, yes—yet he felt the chill in his soul.
How long he had stood there doubting, fearing, dreaming, he could form no idea. He was suddenly roused to the consciousness of his position by the doctor who was hurrying from the house. There was genuine surprise in his voice as he spoke42 slowly and in a very low tone.
Dr. Williams had the habit of slow, quiet speech. He was a privileged character in the town and the state, with the record of a half century of practice. A man of wide reading and genuine culture, he concealed43 a big heart beneath a brutal44 way of expressing his thoughts. He said exactly what he meant with a distinctness that was all the more startling because of his curious habit of speaking harsh things in tones so softly modulated45 that his hearers frequently asked him to repeat his words.
"I had just started to the banquet hall with a message for you," he said slowly.
"Yes—yes," Norton answered vaguely46.
"But I see you've come—Cleo told you?"[Pg 121]
"Yes—she came to the hall——"
The doctor's slender fingers touched his fine gray beard.
"Really! She entered that hall to-night? Well, it's a funny world, this. We spend our time and energy fighting the negro race in front and leave our back doors open for their women and children to enter and master our life. I congratulate you as a politician on your victory——"
Norton lifted his hand as if to ward27 off a blow:
"Please! not to-night!"
The doctor caught the look of agony in the haggard face and suddenly extended his hand:
"I wasn't thinking of your personal history, my boy. I was—I was thinking for a moment of the folly47 of a people—forgive me—I know you need help to-night. You must pull yourself together before you go in there——"
"Yes, I know!" Norton faltered48. "You have seen my wife and talked with her—you can see things clearer than I—tell me what to do!"
"There's but one thing you can do," was the gentle answer. "Lie to her—lie—and stick to it. Lie skillfully, carefully, deliberately, and with such sincerity49 and conviction she's got to believe you. She wants to believe you, of course. I know you are guilty——"
"Let me tell you, doctor——"
"No, you needn't. It's an old story. The more powerful the man the easier his conquest when once the female animal of Cleo's race has her chance. It's enough to make the devil laugh to hear your politicians howl against social and political equality while this cancer is eating the heart out of our society. It makes me[Pg 122] sick! And she went to your banquet hall to-night! I'll laugh over it when I'm blue——"
The doctor paused, laughed softly, and continued:
"Now listen, Norton. Your wife can't live unless she wills to live. I've told you this before. The moment she gives up, she dies. It's the iron will inside her frail50 body that holds the spirit. If she knows the truth, she can't face it. She is narrow, conventional, and can't readjust herself——"
"But doctor, can't she be made to realize that this thing is here a living fact which the white woman of the South must face? These hundreds of thousands of a mixed race are not accidents. She must know that this racial degradation51 is not merely a thing of to-day, but the heritage of two hundred years of sin and sorrow!"
"The older women know this—yes—but not our younger generation, who have been reared in the fierce defense52 of slavery we were forced to make before the war. These things were not to be talked about. No girl reared as your wife can conceive of the possibility of a decent man falling so low. I warn you. You can't let her know the truth—and so the only thing you can do is to lie and stick to it. It's queer advice for a doctor to give an honorable man, perhaps. But life is full of paradoxes53. My advice is medicine. Our best medicines are the most deadly poisons in nature. I've saved many a man's life by their use. This happens to be one of the cases where I prescribe a poison. Put the responsibility on me if you like. My shoulders are broad. I live close to Nature and the prattle54 of fools never disturbs me."
"Is she still hysterical55?" Norton asked.[Pg 123]
"No. That's the strange part of it—the thing that frightens me. That's why I haven't left her side since I was called. Her outburst wasn't hysteria in the first place. It was rage—the blind unreasoning fury of the woman who sees her possible rival and wishes to kill her. You'll find her very quiet. There's a queer, still look in her eyes I don't like. It's the calm before the storm—a storm that may leave death in its trail——"
"Couldn't I deny it at first," Norton interrupted, "and then make my plea to her in an appeal for mercy on an imaginary case? God only knows what I've gone through—the fight I made——"
"Yes, I know, my boy, with that young animal playing at your feet in physical touch with your soul and body in the intimacies56 of your home, you never had a chance. But you can't make your wife see this. An angel from heaven, with tongue of divine eloquence57, can make no impression on her if she once believes you guilty. Don't tell her—and may God have mercy on your soul to-night!"
With a pressure on the younger man's arm, the straight white figure of the old doctor passed through the gate.
Norton walked quickly to the steps of the spacious58, pillared porch, stopped and turned again into the lawn. He sat down on a rustic59 seat and tried desperately60 to work out what he would say, and always the gray mist of a fog of despair closed in.
For the first time in his life he was confronted squarely with the fact that the whole structure of society is enfolded in a network of interminable lies. His wife had been reared from the cradle in the atmosphere of beauty and innocence. She believed in the innocence[Pg 124] of her father, her brothers, and every man who moved in her circle. Above all, she believed in the innocence of her husband. The fact that the negro race had for two hundred years been stirring the baser passions of her men—that this degradation of the higher race had been bred into the bone and sinew of succeeding generations—had never occurred to her childlike mind. How hopeless the task to tell her now when the tragic61 story must shatter her own ideals!
The very thought brought a cry of agony to his lips:
"God in heaven—what can I do?"
He looked helplessly at the stream of light from her window and turned again toward the cool, friendly darkness.
The night was one of marvellous stillness. The band was playing again in his banquet hall at the Capitol. So still was the night he could hear distinctly the softer strains of the stringed instruments, faint, sweet and thrilling, as they floated over the sleepy old town. A mocking-bird above him wakened by the call of melody answered, tenderly at first, and then, with the crash of cornet and drum, his voice swelled62 into a flood of wonderful song.
With a groan63 of pain, Norton rose and walked rapidly into the house. His bird-dog lay on the mat outside the door and sprang forward with a joyous64 whine65 to meet him.
He stooped and drew the shaggy setter's head against his hot cheek.
"I need a friend, to-night, Don, old boy!" he said tenderly. And Don answered with an eloquent66 wag of his tail and a gentle nudge of his nose.[Pg 125]
"If you were only my judge!—Bah, what's the use——"
He drew his drooping67 shoulders erect and entered his wife's room. Her eyes were shining with peculiar68 brightness, but otherwise she seemed unusually calm. She began speaking with quick nervous energy:
"Dr. Williams told you?"
"Yes, and I came at once." He answered with an unusually firm and clear note of strength. His whole being was keyed now to a high tension of alert decision. He saw that the doctor's way was the only one.
"I don't ask you, Dan," she went on with increasing excitement and a touch of scorn in her voice—"I don't ask you to deny this lie. What I want to know is the motive69 the little devil had in saying such a thing to me. Mammy, in her jealousy70, merely told me she was hanging around your room too often. I asked her if it were true. She looked at me a moment and burst into her lying 'confession.' I could have killed her. I did try to tear her green eyes out. I knew that you hated her and tried to put her out of the house, and I thought she had taken this way to get even with you—but it doesn't seem possible. And then I thought the Governor might have taken this way to strike you. He knows old Peeler, the low miserable71 scoundrel, who is her father. Do you think it possible?"
"I—don't—know," he stammered72, moistening his lips and turning away.
"Yet it's possible"—she insisted.
He saw the chance to confirm this impression by a cheap lie—to invent a story of old Peeler's intimacy73 with the Governor, of his attempt to marry Lucy, of his hatred74 of the policy of the paper, his fear of the[Pg 126] Klan and of his treacherous75, cowardly nature—yet the lie seemed so cheap and contemptible76 his lips refused to move. If he were going to carry out the doctor's orders here was his chance. He struggled to speak and couldn't. The habit of a life and the fibre of character were too strong. So he did the fatal thing at the moment of crisis.
"I don't think that possible," he said.
"Why not?"
"Well, you see, since I rescued old Peeler that night from those boys, he has been so abjectly77 grateful I've had to put him out of my office once or twice, and I'm sure he voted for me for the Legislature against his own party."
"He voted for you?" she asked in surprise.
"He told me so. He may have lied, of course, but I don't think he did."
"Then what could have been her motive?"
His teeth were chattering78 in spite of a desperate effort to think clearly and speak intelligently. He stared at a picture on the wall and made no reply.
"Say something—answer my question!" his wife cried excitedly.
"I have answered, my dear. I said I don't know. I'm stunned79 by the whole thing."
"You are stunned?"
"Yes——"
"Stunned? You, a strong, innocent man, stunned by a weak contemptible lie like this from the lips of such a girl—what do you mean?"
"Why, that I was naturally shocked to be called out of a banquet at such a moment by such an accusation80.[Pg 127] She actually beckoned81 to me from the door over the heads of the guests——"
The little blue eyes suddenly narrowed and the thin lips grew hard:
"Cleo called you from the door?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You left the hall to see her there?"
"No, I went down stairs."
"Into the Capitol Square?"
"Yes. I couldn't well talk to her before all those guests——"
"Why not?"
The question came like the crack of a pistol. Her voice was high, cold, metallic82, ringing. He saw, when too late, that he had made a fatal mistake. He stammered, reddened and then turned pale:
"Why—why—naturally——"
"If you are innocent—why not?"
He made a desperate effort to find a place of safety:
"I thought it wise to go down stairs where I could talk without interruption——"
"You—were—afraid," she was speaking each word now with cold, deadly deliberation, "to take-a-message-from-your-servant-at-the-door-of-a-public banquet-hall——" her words quickened—"then you suspected her possible message! There was something between you——"
"My dear, I beg of you——"
He turned his head away with a weary gesture.
She sprang from the side of the bed, leaped to his side, seized him by both arms and fairly screamed in his face:
"Look at me, Dan!"[Pg 128]
He turned quickly, his haggard eyes stared into hers, and she looked with slowly dawning horror.
"Oh, my God!" she shrieked83. "It's true—it's true—it's true!"
She sprang back with a shiver of loathing, covered her face with her hands and staggered to her bed, sobbing84 hysterically86:
"It's true—it's true—it's true! Have mercy, Lord!—it's true—it's true!" She fell face downward, her frail figure quivering like a leaf in a storm.
He rushed to her side, crying in terror:
"It's not true—it's not true, my dear! Don't believe it. I swear it's a lie—it's a lie—I tell you!"
She was crying in sobs87 of utter anguish.
He bent88 low:
"It's not true, dearest! It's not true, I tell you. You mustn't believe it. You can't believe it when I swear to you that it's a lie——"
His head gently touched her slender shoulder.
She flinched89 as if scorched90 by a flame, sprang to her feet, and faced him with blazing eyes:
"Don't—you—dare—touch—me——"
"My dear," he pleaded.
"Don't speak to me again!"
"Please——"
"Get out of this room!"
He stood rooted to the spot in helpless stupor and she threw her little body against his with sudden fury, pushing him toward the door. "Get out, I say!"
He staggered back helplessly and awkwardly amazed at her strength as she pushed him into the hall. She stood a moment towering in the white frame of the door, the picture of an avenging91 angel to his tormented92 soul.[Pg 129] Through teeth chattering with hysterical emotion she cried:
"Go, you leper! And don't you ever dare to cross this door-sill again—not even to look on my dead face!"
"For God's sake, don't!" he gasped93, staggering toward her.
But the door slammed in his face and the bolt suddenly shot into its place.
He knocked gently and received no answer. An ominous94 stillness reigned95 within. He called again and again without response. He waited patiently for half an hour and knocked once more. An agony of fear chilled him. She might be dead. He knelt, pressed his ear close to the keyhole and heard a long, low, pitiful sob85 from her bed.
"Thank God——"
He rose with sudden determination. She couldn't be left like that. He would call the doctor back at once, and, what was better still, he would bring her mother, a wise gray-haired little saint, who rarely volunteered advice in her daughter's affairs. The door would fly open at her soft command.
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1
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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precipice
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| n.悬崖，危急的处境 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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plantation
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| n.种植园，大农场 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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jaws
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afterward
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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contagious
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| adj.传染性的，有感染力的 | |
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magnetism
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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odds
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subdued
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impeached
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| v.控告（某人）犯罪( impeach的过去式和过去分词 )；弹劾；对（某事物）怀疑；提出异议 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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commonwealth
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| n.共和国，联邦，共同体 | |
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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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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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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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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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modulated
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| 已调整[制]的，被调的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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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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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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paradoxes
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| n.似非而是的隽语，看似矛盾而实际却可能正确的说法( paradox的名词复数 )；用于语言文学中的上述隽语；有矛盾特点的人[事物，情况] | |
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54
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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55
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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intimacies
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| 亲密( intimacy的名词复数 )； 密切； 亲昵的言行； 性行为 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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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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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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abjectly
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| 凄惨地； 绝望地； 糟透地； 悲惨地 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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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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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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81
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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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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87
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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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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flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scorched
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| 烧焦，烤焦( scorch的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（植物）枯萎，把…晒枯； 高速行驶； 枯焦 | |
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avenging
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| adj.报仇的，复仇的v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的现在分词 )；为…报复 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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93
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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