Joan’s eyes brightened as she drew near towards her old home. The meadows rippled3 at her feet; the great trees called to her like old playmates out of the woods; the very wind blew blithely4 in her hair. The past rushed back, vivid and wistful; memories of her childhood glimmered5 through her brain. Yonder in the valley lay the Mallan water, where she had first met Gabriel when the woods were green.
Betimes Burnt House rose up before her in the east, its red roof warm above the yews6 and cypresses7, its old wall filleting the brow of the hill. Joan’s heart beat fast, and for the moment her eyes were dim. Was there yet hope for her within those well-loved walls? How would her father greet her?—as of old with his rude, rough tongue?
She reached the iron gate and set it creaking on its rusty8 hinges. The shrubs9 and trees were wild and untrammelled as of yore. They seemed to welcome her like green-limbed guardians10 of the past, tossing their hands, breathing forth11 deep greetings. Joan saw the track of wheels upon the grass-grown drive, tracks freshly graven, glistening12 with the rain. To the left the orchard13 flashed before her eyes, with petals14 rosy15 and white scattered16 by the wind upon the tall, rank grass. Primroses17 and hyacinths were in bloom there, and daffodils shook their golden faces to the breeze.
She crossed the stretch of gravel18 and entered the old porch. Her hand held the iron handle; the bell clamored through the silent house. She waited with her heart hurrying, her eyes watching the waving trees. Slow footsteps sounded within. The great door opened a very little and Mrs. Primmer19’s yellow face peered out from the gloom.
Joan confronted her with no wavering or fear, the sense of innocence20 strong within her heart. The woman’s figure closed the entry; with one bony hand she held the door.
“Well, mistress?”
There was an insolence21 in the very word that made Joan color. She moved forward a step, but Mrs. Primmer did not falter22.
“Make way, please.”
“Mr. Gildersedge is ill.”
“My father ill?”
“He maunt see nobody; I have my orders.”
It was plain to Joan that the woman’s rudeness arose from no superabundance of sincere concern. There was an intentional23 insult in her very attitude. Joan’s gray eyes kindled24; she was no child to be shamed and frightened by a frowning face.
“I have come,” she said, quietly, “to see my father.”
“Doctor’s orders—”
“Make way, woman.”
She stepped in and set one hand on Mrs. Primmer’s shoulder. There was no unseemliness in this strength of hers. The hireling fell back even as a hireling should.
“Stand aside!”
“I’ve had my orders.”
“And your pay.”
Joan crossed the hall, unfastening her hat and ignoring the lean, black figure by the door. She climbed the oak stairway, halted in the gallery above, turning to find Mrs. Primmer had followed from the hall. Throwing her hat upon a broad window-sill, she looked down on the woman with a dignity that was not mute.
“Stay,” she said, stretching out a hand.
“Dr. Marjoy told me—”
“Are you the mistress of this house?”
“You won’t get anything out of him, young woman.”
“Spare your words,” said the girl, calmly. “I have come to see my father, and to see him alone. Go back to the kitchen. That is your proper place.”
Very pale but very purposeful, Joan moved down the gallery towards her father’s room. She halted a moment outside the door, listening, watching to see whether the woman followed. There were no sounds save the moaning of the wind, the chattering25 of the casements26, and the beating of boughs27 against the panes28.
Very quietly Joan turned the handle and stood on the threshold of her father’s room. The old man’s bed faced the broad window, where rain clouds raced over the rolling downs. He lay half propped29 upon pillows, staring at the sullen sky, his thin hands stretched upon the coverlet.
It was not till Joan had closed the door and moved forward into the room that her father awoke to her presence there. A great change had come over him those winter months, for disease had dragged him near to the grave. The yellow skin hung in folds about the neck, the eyes were sunken, the lips bloodless and marked by the teeth. It was the face of the dead more than of the living, sharp, earthy, and repulsive30, still infinitely31 cunning.
When Zeus Gildersedge saw his daughter, a look of peculiar32 vindictiveness33 sharpened his thin face. He strove to rise higher in the bed, his yellow talons34 clawing at the coverlet as he raised himself upon his elbows, the muscles contracted in his pendulous35 throat. As by instinct Joan had started towards him to help him as of old; the look in his sunken eyes beat her back.
“So you have sneaked37 home,” he said to her, breathing hard, his eyes glistening with an indescribable malice38.
“Father!”
“To beg, eh?”
“Can a daughter beg?”
“He has deserted39 you, the fine fellow—”
“No, no, not that.”
Zeus Gildersedge propped himself upon his pillows, his birdlike head straining forward upon its yellow neck.
“You have timed it well, eh?”
“Timed it, father?”
“To sneak36 back and play the pretty penitent40 and finger the old man’s money.”
“We are poor, father.”
“Poor, eh?”
“The world has wronged us.”
There was an unhallowed smirk41 on Zeus Gildersedge’s face.
“What about your father?” he asked; “you didn’t come to see him. No, by God! He can die, and that’s about the best thing you think he can do.”
“Father!”
She stretched out her hands to him as though to stem back his taunting42 words. Zeus Gildersedge was a dying man; the bitterness of the approaching hour, the sordid43 realism of his past, only incensed44 him against his fate. There was none of the mild solemnity of death in that dark room. Nothing but malice seemed quick in the lean body, nothing but mocking anger alive in the dim eyes.
“Is it my money you want?” he panted. “I am to be deserted, am I, and then squeezed on my death-bed like a sponge, to keep you and your blackguard from the gutter45? Gold, is it? Curse them, they’re all scrambling46 for it—the parson, the doctor, that woman in the kitchen. What do they care about me—what do they care about me, I say? By God, wench, I won’t give you a farthing!”
He sank back upon his pillows, seized with a spasmodic fit of coughing. His face grew dusky, his eyes suffused47. The veins48 were turgid and swollen49 in the straining neck; one claw of a hand was hooked in the collar of his shirt.
Joan stood and gazed at him, mute and impotent. His words had stunned50 her and she could not think. Rain came rattling51 against the window; storm-clouds darkened the room; the wind moaned in the chimney and whistled over the roof.
The old man upon the bed had recovered his breath. He struggled up and gestured at her with one trembling hand, his eyes shining with a peculiar brightness in his dusky face.
“Get out from here!” he cried.
“Father!”
“I’ll not be bled upon my death-bed. Away, you wastrel52! Starve, starve! I’ll not pay for your shame.”
She drew back from him, shuddering53. An utter hopelessness descended54 upon her soul. She knew full well at last that there was no pity in her father’s heart.
“I will go,” she said, moving towards the door.
“Out of my house, you wanton.”
He was leaning from his pillows, his face distorted, one outstretched hand pointing her away. Joan had opened the door; she halted for a moment on the threshold.
“God forgive you,” she said.
“Forgive me!” he screamed; “by God, you have the impudence55 of the devil!”
Joan went out and closed the door, leaned against the wainscoting with her hand over her eyes. Slowly her strength came back to her. She passed down the old gallery, filled with sad memories of the past, took her hat from off the window-sill, and went down the stairs. In the dusk of the hall Mrs. Primmer met her. Joan swept by the woman without a word, unlatched the door, and went out into the wind and rain.
But before night came Zeus Gildersedge lay dead.
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收听单词发音
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1
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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3
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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4
blithely
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| adv.欢乐地，快活地，无挂虑地 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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7
cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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8
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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10
guardians
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| 监护人( guardian的名词复数 )； 保护者，维护者 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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12
glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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13
orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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14
petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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15
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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16
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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17
primroses
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| n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 )；淡黄色；追求享乐（招至恶果） | |
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18
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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19
primmer
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| adj.循规蹈矩的( prim的比较级 )；整洁的；（人）一本正经 | |
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20
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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21
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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22
falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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23
intentional
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| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
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24
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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25
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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26
casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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27
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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28
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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29
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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31
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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32
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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33
vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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34
talons
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| n.（尤指猛禽的）爪( talon的名词复数 )；（如爪般的）手指；爪状物；锁簧尖状突出部 | |
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35
pendulous
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| adj.下垂的；摆动的 | |
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36
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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37
sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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38
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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39
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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40
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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41
smirk
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| n.得意地笑；v.傻笑；假笑着说 | |
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42
taunting
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| 嘲讽( taunt的现在分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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43
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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44
incensed
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| 盛怒的 | |
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45
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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46
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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47
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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49
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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50
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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51
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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52
wastrel
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| n.浪费者；废物 | |
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53
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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54
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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55
impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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