Hadleyburg village woke up world-celebrated--astonished--happy-- vain. Vain beyond imagination. Its nineteen principal citizens and their wives went about shaking hands with each other, and beaming, and smiling, and congratulating, and saying THIS thing adds a new word to the dictionary--HADLEYBURG, synonym1 for INCORRUPTIBLE-- destined2 to live in dictionaries for ever! And the minor3 and unimportant citizens and their wives went around acting4 in much the same way. Everybody ran to the bank to see the gold-sack; and before noon grieved and envious5 crowds began to flock in from Brixton and all neighbouring towns; and that afternoon and next day reporters began to arrive from everywhere to verify the sack and its history and write the whole thing up anew, and make dashing free- hand pictures of the sack, and of Richards's house, and the bank, and the Presbyterian church, and the Baptist church, and the public square, and the town-hall where the test would be applied6 and the money delivered; and damnable portraits of the Richardses, and Pinkerton the banker, and Cox, and the foreman, and Reverend Burgess, and the postmaster--and even of Jack8 Halliday, who was the loafing, good-natured, no-account, irreverent fisherman, hunter, boys' friend, stray-dogs' friend, typical "Sam Lawson" of the town. The little mean, smirking9, oily Pinkerton showed the sack to all comers, and rubbed his sleek10 palms together pleasantly, and enlarged upon the town's fine old reputation for honesty and upon this wonderful endorsement11 of it, and hoped and believed that the example would now spread far and wide over the American world, and be epoch- making in the matter of moral regeneration. And so on, and so on.
By the end of a week things had quieted down again; the wild intoxication12 of pride and joy had sobered to a soft, sweet, silent delight--a sort of deep, nameless, unutterable content. All faces bore a look of peaceful, holy happiness.
Then a change came. It was a gradual change; so gradual that its beginnings were hardly noticed; maybe were not noticed at all, except by Jack Halliday, who always noticed everything; and always made fun of it, too, no matter what it was. He began to throw out chaffing remarks about people not looking quite so happy as they did a day or two ago; and next he claimed that the new aspect was deepening to positive sadness; next, that it was taking on a sick look; and finally he said that everybody was become so moody13, thoughtful, and absent-minded that he could rob the meanest man in town of a cent out of the bottom of his breeches pocket and not disturb his reverie.
At this stage--or at about this stage--a saying like this was dropped at bedtime--with a sigh, usually--by the head of each of the nineteen principal households:
"Ah, what COULD have been the remark that Goodson made?"
And straightway--with a shudder--came this, from the man's wife:
"Oh, DON'T! What horrible thing are you mulling in your mind? Put it away from you, for God's sake!"
But that question was wrung14 from those men again the next night--and got the same retort. But weaker.
And the third night the men uttered the question yet again--with anguish15, and absently. This time--and the following night--the wives fidgeted feebly, and tried to say something. But didn't.
And the night after that they found their tongues and responded-- longingly16:
"Oh, if we COULD only guess!"
Halliday's comments grew daily more and more sparklingly disagreeable and disparaging17. He went diligently18 about, laughing at the town, individually and in mass. But his laugh was the only one left in the village: it fell upon a hollow and mournful vacancy19 and emptiness. Not even a smile was findable anywhere. Halliday carried a cigar-box around on a tripod, playing that it was a camera, and halted all passers and aimed the thing and said "Ready! --now look pleasant, please," but not even this capital joke could surprise the dreary20 faces into any softening21.
So three weeks passed--one week was left. It was Saturday evening after supper. Instead of the aforetime Saturday-evening flutter and bustle22 and shopping and larking23, the streets were empty and desolate24. Richards and his old wife sat apart in their little parlour--miserable and thinking. This was become their evening habit now: the life-long habit which had preceded it, of reading, knitting, and contented25 chat, or receiving or paying neighbourly calls, was dead and gone and forgotten, ages ago--two or three weeks ago; nobody talked now, nobody read, nobody visited--the whole village sat at home, sighing, worrying, silent. Trying to guess out that remark.
The postman left a letter. Richards glanced listlessly at the superscription and the post-mark--unfamiliar, both--and tossed the letter on the table and resumed his might-have-beens and his hopeless dull miseries26 where he had left them off. Two or three hours later his wife got wearily up and was going away to bed without a good-night--custom now--but she stopped near the letter and eyed it awhile with a dead interest, then broke it open, and began to skim it over. Richards, sitting there with his chair tilted27 back against the wall and his chin between his knees, heard something fall. It was his wife. He sprang to her side, but she cried out:
"Leave me alone, I am too happy. Read the letter--read it!"
He did. He devoured28 it, his brain reeling. The letter was from a distant State, and it said:
"I am a stranger to you, but no matter: I have something to tell. I have just arrived home from Mexico, and learned about that episode. Of course you do not know who made that remark, but I know, and I am the only person living who does know. It was GOODSON. I knew him well, many years ago. I passed through your village that very night, and was his guest till the midnight train came along. I overheard him make that remark to the stranger in the dark--it was in Hale Alley29. He and I talked of it the rest of the way home, and while smoking in his house. He mentioned many of your villagers in the course of his talk--most of them in a very uncomplimentary way, but two or three favourably30: among these latter yourself. I say 'favourably'--nothing stronger. I remember his saying he did not actually LIKE any person in the town--not one; but that you--I THINK he said you--am almost sure--had done him a very great service once, possibly without knowing the full value of it, and he wished he had a fortune, he would leave it to you when he died, and a curse apiece for the rest of the citizens. Now, then, if it was you that did him that service, you are his legitimate31 heir, and entitled to the sack of gold. I know that I can trust to your honour and honesty, for in a citizen of Hadleyburg these virtues32 are an unfailing inheritance, and so I am going to reveal to you the remark, well satisfied that if you are not the right man you will seek and find the right one and see that poor Goodson's debt of gratitude33 for the service referred to is paid. This is the remark 'YOU ARE FAR FROM BEING A BAD MAN: GO, AND REFORM.'
"HOWARD L. STEPHENSON."
"Oh, Edward, the money is ours, and I am so grateful, OH, so grateful,--kiss me, dear, it's for ever since we kissed--and we needed it so--the money--and now you are free of Pinkerton and his bank, and nobody's slave any more; it seems to me I could fly for joy."
It was a happy half-hour that the couple spent there on the settee caressing34 each other; it was the old days come again--days that had begun with their courtship and lasted without a break till the stranger brought the deadly money. By-and-by the wife said:
"Oh, Edward, how lucky it was you did him that grand service, poor Goodson! I never liked him, but I love him now. And it was fine and beautiful of you never to mention it or brag35 about it." Then, with a touch of reproach, "But you ought to have told ME, Edward, you ought to have told your wife, you know."
"Well, I--er--well, Mary, you see--"
"Now stop hemming36 and hawing, and tell me about it, Edward. I always loved you, and now I'm proud of you. Everybody believes there was only one good generous soul in this village, and now it turns out that you-- Edward, why don't you tell me?"
"Well--er--er--Why, Mary, I can't!"
"You CAN'T? WHY can't you?"
"You see, he--well, he--he made me promise I wouldn't."
The wife looked him over, and said, very slowly:
"Made--you--promise? Edward, what do you tell me that for?"
"Mary, do you think I would lie?"
She was troubled and silent for a moment, then she laid her hand within his and said:
"No . . . no. We have wandered far enough from our bearings--God spare us that! In all your life you have never uttered a lie. But now--now that the foundations of things seem to be crumbling37 from under us, we--we--" She lost her voice for a moment, then said, brokenly, "Lead us not into temptation. . . I think you made the promise, Edward. Let it rest so. Let us keep away from that ground. Now--that is all gone by; let us he happy again; it is no time for clouds."
Edward found it something of an effort to comply, for his mind kept wandering--trying to remember what the service was that he had done Goodson.
The couple lay awake the most of the night, Mary happy and busy, Edward busy, but not so happy. Mary was planning what she would do with the money. Edward was trying to recall that service. At first his conscience was sore on account of the lie he had told Mary--if it was a lie. After much reflection--suppose it WAS a lie? What then? Was it such a great matter? Aren't we always ACTING lies? Then why not tell them? Look at Mary--look what she had done. While he was hurrying off on his honest errand, what was she doing? Lamenting38 because the papers hadn't been destroyed and the money kept. Is theft better than lying?
THAT point lost its sting--the lie dropped into the background and left comfort behind it. The next point came to the front: HAD he rendered that service? Well, here was Goodson's own evidence as reported in Stephenson's letter; there could be no better evidence than that--it was even PROOF that he had rendered it. Of course. So that point was settled. . . No, not quite. He recalled with a wince39 that this unknown Mr. Stephenson was just a trifle unsure as to whether the performer of it was Richards or some other--and, oh dear, he had put Richards on his honour! He must himself decide whither that money must go--and Mr. Stephenson was not doubting that if he was the wrong man he would go honourably40 and find the right one. Oh, it was odious41 to put a man in such a situation--ah, why couldn't Stephenson have left out that doubt? What did he want to intrude42 that for?
Further reflection. How did it happen that RICHARDS'S name remained in Stephenson's mind as indicating the right man, and not some other man's name? That looked good. Yes, that looked very good. In fact it went on looking better and better, straight along--until by-and- by it grew into positive PROOF. And then Richards put the matter at once out of his mind, for he had a private instinct that a proof once established is better left so.
He was feeling reasonably comfortable now, but there was still one other detail that kept pushing itself on his notice: of course he had done that service--that was settled; but what WAS that service? He must recall it--he would not go to sleep till he had recalled it; it would make his peace of mind perfect. And so he thought and thought. He thought of a dozen things--possible services, even probable services--but none of them seemed adequate, none of them seemed large enough, none of them seemed worth the money--worth the fortune Goodson had wished he could leave in his will. And besides, he couldn't remember having done them, anyway. Now, then--now, then--what KIND of a service would it be that would make a man so inordinately43 grateful? Ah--the saving of his soul! That must be it. Yes, he could remember, now, how he once set himself the task of converting Goodson, and laboured at it as much as--he was going to say three months; but upon closer examination it shrunk to a month, then to a week, then to a day, then to nothing. Yes, he remembered now, and with unwelcome vividness, that Goodson had told him to go to thunder and mind his own business--HE wasn't hankering to follow Hadleyburg to heaven!
So that solution was a failure--he hadn't saved Goodson's soul. Richards was discouraged. Then after a little came another idea: had he saved Goodson's property? No, that wouldn't do--he hadn't any. His life? That is it! Of course. Why, he might have thought of it before. This time he was on the right track, sure. His imagination-mill was hard at work in a minute, now.
Thereafter, during a stretch of two exhausting hours, he was busy saving Goodson's life. He saved it in all kinds of difficult and perilous44 ways. In every case he got it saved satisfactorily up to a certain point; then, just as he was beginning to get well persuaded that it had really happened, a troublesome detail would turn up which made the whole thing impossible. As in the matter of drowning, for instance. In that case he had swum out and tugged45 Goodson ashore46 in an unconscious state with a great crowd looking on and applauding, but when he had got it all thought out and was just beginning to remember all about it, a whole swarm47 of disqualifying details arrived on the ground: the town would have known of the circumstance, Mary would have known of it, it would glare like a limelight in his own memory instead of being an inconspicuous service which he had possibly rendered "without knowing its full value." And at this point he remembered that he couldn't swim anyway.
Ah--THERE was a point which he had been overlooking from the start: it had to be a service which he had rendered "possibly without knowing the full value of it." Why, really, that ought to be an easy hunt--much easier than those others. And sure enough, by-and- by he found it. Goodson, years and years ago, came near marrying a very sweet and pretty girl, named Nancy Hewitt, but in some way or other the match had been broken off; the girl died, Goodson remained a bachelor, and by-and-by became a soured one and a frank despiser of the human species. Soon after the girl's death the village found out, or thought it had found out, that she carried a spoonful of negro blood in her veins48. Richards worked at these details a good while, and in the end he thought he remembered things concerning them which must have gotten mislaid in his memory through long neglect. He seemed to dimly remember that it was HE that found out about the negro blood; that it was he that told the village; that the village told Goodson where they got it; that he thus saved Goodson from marrying the tainted49 girl; that he had done him this great service "without knowing the full value of it," in fact without knowing that he WAS doing it; but that Goodson knew the value of it, and what a narrow escape he had had, and so went to his grave grateful to his benefactor50 and wishing he had a fortune to leave him. It was all clear and simple, now, and the more he went over it the more luminous51 and certain it grew; and at last, when he nestled to sleep, satisfied and happy, he remembered the whole thing just as if it had been yesterday. In fact, he dimly remembered Goodson's TELLING him his gratitude once. Meantime Mary had spent six thousand dollars on a new house for herself and a pair of slippers52 for her pastor53, and then had fallen peacefully to rest.
That same Saturday evening the postman had delivered a letter to each of the other principal citizens--nineteen letters in all. No two of the envelopes were alike, and no two of the superscriptions were in the same hand, but the letters inside were just like each other in every detail but one. They were exact copies of the letter received by Richards--handwriting and all--and were all signed by Stephenson, but in place of Richards's name each receiver's own name appeared.
All night long eighteen principal citizens did what their caste- brother Richards was doing at the same time--they put in their energies trying to remember what notable service it was that they had unconsciously done Barclay Goodson. In no case was it a holiday job; still they succeeded.
And while they were at this work, which was difficult, their wives put in the night spending the money, which was easy. During that one night the nineteen wives spent an average of seven thousand dollars each out of the forty thousand in the sack--a hundred and thirty-three thousand altogether.
Next day there was a surprise for Jack Halliday. He noticed that the faces of the nineteen chief citizens and their wives bore that expression of peaceful and holy happiness again. He could not understand it, neither was he able to invent any remarks about it that could damage it or disturb it. And so it was his turn to be dissatisfied with life. His private guesses at the reasons for the happiness failed in all instances, upon examination. When he met Mrs. Wilcox and noticed the placid54 ecstasy55 in her face, he said to himself, "Her cat has had kittens"--and went and asked the cook; it was not so, the cook had detected the happiness, but did not know the cause. When Halliday found the duplicate ecstasy in the face of "Shadbelly" Billson (village nickname), he was sure some neighbour of Billson's had broken his leg, but inquiry56 showed that this had not happened. The subdued57 ecstasy in Gregory Yates's face could mean but one thing--he was a mother-in-law short; it was another mistake. "And Pinkerton--Pinkerton--he has collected ten cents that he thought he was going to lose." And so on, and so on. In some cases the guesses had to remain in doubt, in the others they proved distinct errors. In the end Halliday said to himself, "Anyway it roots up that there's nineteen Hadleyburg families temporarily in heaven: I don't know how it happened; I only know Providence58 is off duty to-day."
An architect and builder from the next State had lately ventured to set up a small business in this unpromising village, and his sign had now been hanging out a week. Not a customer yet; he was a discouraged man, and sorry he had come. But his weather changed suddenly now. First one and then another chief citizen's wife said to him privately59:
"Come to my house Monday week--but say nothing about it for the present. We think of building."
He got eleven invitations that day. That night he wrote his daughter and broke off her match with her student. He said she could marry a mile higher than that.
Pinkerton the banker and two or three other well-to-do men planned country-seats--but waited. That kind don't count their chickens until they are hatched.
The Wilsons devised a grand new thing--a fancy-dress ball. They made no actual promises, but told all their acquaintanceship in confidence that they were thinking the matter over and thought they should give it--"and if we do, you will be invited, of course." People were surprised, and said, one to another, "Why, they are crazy, those poor Wilsons, they can't afford it." Several among the nineteen said privately to their husbands, "It is a good idea, we will keep still till their cheap thing is over, then WE will give one that will make it sick."
The days drifted along, and the bill of future squanderings rose higher and higher, wilder and wilder, more and more foolish and reckless. It began to look as if every member of the nineteen would not only spend his whole forty thousand dollars before receiving- day, but be actually in debt by the time he got the money. In some cases light-headed people did not stop with planning to spend, they really spent--on credit. They bought land, mortgages, farms, speculative60 stocks, fine clothes, horses, and various other things, paid down the bonus, and made themselves liable for the rest--at ten days. Presently the sober second thought came, and Halliday noticed that a ghastly anxiety was beginning to show up in a good many faces. Again he was puzzled, and didn't know what to make of it. "The Wilcox kittens aren't dead, for they weren't born; nobody's broken a leg; there's no shrinkage in mother-in-laws; NOTHING has happened--it is an insolvable mystery."
There was another puzzled man, too--the Rev7. Mr. Burgess. For days, wherever he went, people seemed to follow him or to be watching out for him; and if he ever found himself in a retired61 spot, a member of the nineteen would be sure to appear, thrust an envelope privately into his hand, whisper "To be opened at the town-hall Friday evening," then vanish away like a guilty thing. He was expecting that there might be one claimant for the sack--doubtful, however, Goodson being dead--but it never occurred to him that all this crowd might be claimants. When the great Friday came at last, he found that he had nineteen envelopes.
哈德莱堡镇的人们一觉醒来已经名扬天下，他们先是大吃一惊，继而欢欣鼓舞，继而得意洋洋。得意之情难以言表。镇上十九位要人及其夫人们奔走相告，握手言欢，彼此道贺，大家都说这件事给词典里添了一个新词——哈德莱堡：义同“拒腐蚀”——这个词注定要在各大词典里万古流芳啦！次要而无足轻重的公民及其老婆们也到处乱跑，举动也大同小异。人人都跑到银行去看那只装着金子的口袋；还不到正午时分，就已经有郁郁寡欢、心怀嫉妒的人成群结队地从布里克斯顿和邻近各镇蜂拥而至。当天下午和第二天，记者们也从四面八方纷纷赶来，验明这只钱袋的正身及其来龙去脉，把整个故事重新包装，对钱袋作了即兴的描摹渲染，理查兹的家，银行，长老会教堂，浸礼会教堂，公共广场，以及将要用来核实身份、移交钱财的镇公所，也没有逃过记者们的生花妙笔；此外还给几个人物画了几幅怪模怪样的肖像，有理查兹夫妇，银行家平克顿，有考克斯，有报馆的编辑主任，还有伯杰斯牧师和邮电所所长——甚至还有杰克·哈里代。哈里代游手好闲，脾气不错，是个在镇子里排不上号的粗人，三天打鱼，两天晒网，他是孩子王，也是丧家犬们的朋友，是镇子上典型的“萨姆·劳森”①。其貌不扬的小个子平克顿皮笑肉不笑、油腔滑调地向所有来宾展示钱袋子，他乐颠颠地挂着一对细皮嫩肉的巴掌，渲染这个镇子源远流长的诚实美名以及这次无与伦比的例证，他希望并且相信这个范例将传播开去，传遍美洲，在重振世道人心方面起到划时代的作用。如此等等。
--
①萨姆·劳森是以创作《汤姆叔叔的小屋》（Uncle Tom's Cabin）知名的美国作家斯陀夫人（Hdrriet Beecher Stowe）笔下的一个人物，他是一个知足常乐、嘴不饶人的懒汉。
--
一个星期过后，一切又平静下来；如痴如狂的自豪和喜悦已经渐渐化作轻柔、甜蜜和无言的欣慰——是那种深沉隽永，说不清、道不明的心满意足。人人脸上都流露着平和而圣洁的幸福表情。
这时发生了一种变化。这是一种渐进的变化：因为变得非常慢，所以开始时很难察觉；也许大家根本就没有察觉，只有在什么事情里都能看出门道来的杰克·哈里代是个例外。无论什么事情，哈里代总能拿来开玩笑。他发现有些人看起来不像一两天以前那么高兴，就开始说风凉话；接着，他说这种新的现象正在向闷闷不乐的方向深化；后来他又说人家满脸都是晦气；最后，他说人人都变得怒气冲冲，满肚子心思，心不在焉了，就算他把手一直伸到镇子上最吝啬的人裤袋深处抠一分钱，也不会让他清醒过来。
在这个阶段——也许大约在这个阶段——那十九户要人的一家之长在临睡前差不多都要说一句这样的话——通常是先叹一口气，然后才说：
“唉，那个古德森到底说过一句什么话呢？”
男人的妻子紧接着——用发颤的声音说：
“嗨，别说了！你心里转什么念头呢？怪吓人的。看在主的份儿上，快别想了！”
可是，到第二天晚上，这些男人又把这个问题搬了出来——照样受到呵斥。不过呵斥的声音小了一点。
第三天晚上，男人们再念叨这个问题的时候——声音里透着苦闷和茫然。这一次——还有次日晚上——妻子们略微有点心烦意乱，她们都有话要说。可是她们都没有说出口来。
接下来的那个晚上，她们终于开了口，热切地应和着：
“唉，咱们要是能猜出来多好啊！”
一天天过去，哈里代的评论越来越肆无忌惮，越来越讨人嫌，越来越阴损了。他不辞辛劳地到处乱跑；取笑镇子上的人，有时候是一个个地挖苦，有时候又放在一起嘲笑。不过，全镇子里也只有他还能笑得出来：这笑声所到之处，尽是空旷而凄凉的荒漠。哪里都看不到一丝笑容。哈里代扛着一个三角架到处跑，上面放一个雪茄烟盒子，权当照相机；碰上过路的人就截住，把这玩艺儿对准他们说：“准备！——笑一笑，您哪。”可是，如此高明的玩笑也没能给那一张张阴沉的脸一个惊喜，让它们松弛一下。
三个星期就这样过去了——还剩下一个星期。那是星期六的晚上——晚饭已经吃过。如今的星期六没有了以往那种热热闹闹逛商店、开玩笑的场面，街面上空空荡荡，人迹稀少。理查兹和老伴在小客厅里东一个、西一个地坐着——愁眉不展，满肚子心事。这种情形已经成了他们晚间的习惯：从前他们守了一辈子的老习惯—— 看书，编织，随意聊天，或者是邻居们互相走动，这些习惯已经成为历史，被他们忘却好长时间了——也许已经有两三个星期了；现在没有人闲谈，没有人看书，也没有人串门——全镇子上的人都坐在家里唉声叹气，愁眉不展地发呆。都想猜到那句话。
邮递员送来了一封信。理查兹两眼无神地扫了一眼信封上的字和邮戳——没有一样面熟——他把信丢在桌子上，重新接上刚刚被打断的思路，忍受着无望而沉闷的苦恼，继续猜度那句金口玉言。两三个小时以后，他的妻子精疲力尽地站起来，没有道晚安就想去上床了——如今这已经司空见惯——可是，她走到那封信旁停下了脚步，没精打采地看了看，然后拆开信，从上到下扫了一遍。理查兹正呆坐着，翘起的椅子背顶着墙，下巴额埋在两腿当中；这时候他听见了东西倒地的声音。原来是他妻子。他赶快跑过去搀扶，不料她却大叫起来：
“别管我，我太高兴了。你快看信——看哪！”
他接过信来就看。一目十行地看完，他的脑子就像腾云驾雾一般。那封信是从很远的一个州寄来的，信里说：
我和你素不相识，不过这没有关系：我想告诉你一件事情。我刚从墨西哥回到家中，就听到了那条新闻。你当然不知道那句话是谁说的，可是我知道，在世的人当中只有我一个人知道。那人是古德森。多年以前，我很熟悉他。就在那天晚上，我路过你们那个镇子，坐半夜的火车离开以前，我一直在他那儿做客。他在暗处对外乡人说那句话的时候，我在旁边听见了——那是在赫尔胡同。当时，从去他家的路上，直到后来在他家抽烟的时候，他和我谈论的都是这件事。他在谈话中提到了很多你们镇子上的人——对大多数人贬得都很厉害，只对两三个人还算手下留情；这两三个人当中就有你。我说的是“手下留情”——仅此而已。我记得当时他讲到，说实在话，全镇上的人他没有一个喜欢的——一个都没有；不过说到你——我想他说的是你——这应该不会错——有一次帮过他一个大忙，也许你自己都不知道这个忙帮得有多大，他说他希望有一笔财产，临死的时候留给你，至于镇上的其他居民，留给他们的只有诅咒。如此说来，假如那个忙确实是你帮的，你就是他的合法继承人，就有权利得到那一袋金子。我知道我可以信赖你的良知和诚实，因为每一个哈德莱堡镇的公民都具有这些世代相传、从未湮没的天性，所以我现在就把那句话透露给你，我非常放心：如果你自己不应得这笔钱，一定会去找到应得的人，让可怜的古德森得以报答因受惠而久的人情。那句话是这样说的：“你决不是一个坏蛋：去吧，改了就好。”
霍华德·L·史蒂文森
“啊，爱德华，那钱是咱们的了。我真是太高兴了，噢，太高兴了——亲亲我，亲爱的，咱们有多少日子没亲过了——咱们正用得着——这笔钱——现在你可以甩开平克顿和他的银行了，再也不用给别人当奴才了。我高兴得简直要飞起来了。”
夫妻俩相互爱抚着在长靠椅上度过了半个小时的快乐时光；旧日的时光重又来临——那种时光从他们相爱就开始了，直到那个外乡人带来这笔该死的钱以后才被打断。过了一会儿，妻子说：
“啊，爱德华，当初帮他一个大忙真是你的福分，可怜的古德森！过去我从来不喜欢他，现在我倒喜欢上他了。做了这样的事你都没有说过，也不显摆，真不错，干得漂亮。”然后她又做了一点儿小小的批评：“不过你总该告诉我嘛，爱德华，你总该告诉自己的妻子呀。”
“这个，我——呢——这个，玛丽，你瞧——”
“别再这个那个的啦，跟我说说吧，爱德华。我一直是爱你的，现在更为你感到自豪。谁都相信这镇子上只有一个慷慨大方的好人，原来你也——爱德华，你怎么不告诉我？”
“这个——呢——呕——唉，玛丽，我不能说！”
“你不能说？怎么不能说？”
“你瞧，他——这个，他——他让我保证不说出去。”
妻子把他从上到下看了一遍，很慢很慢地说：
“让——你——保证？爱德华，你跟我说这话是什么意思？”
“玛丽，你想我会撒谎吗？”
她不出声地闷了一会儿，然后把自己的手放在丈夫的手心里说：
“不是……不是。咱们这是把话扯远了——上帝饶恕我们吧！你这一辈子从来没有撒过谎。可是现在——现在咱们脚底下的根基眼看就要站不住了，咱们就——咱们就——”她一时想不出词儿来，后来又断断续续地说：“别把咱们引到邪路上去——我想你是跟人家保证过，爱德华。那就算了吧。咱们不说这件事了。好吧——这件事就算过去了；咱们还是高高兴兴的，别自找麻烦了。”
听着妻子的话，爱德华有点儿跟不上，因为他总是心猿意马——他在使劲想到底给古德森帮过什么忙。
夫妻俩一夜都没怎么合眼，玛丽高高兴兴地忙着想心事；爱德华也忙着想，却不怎么高兴。玛丽思量怎么用这笔钱。爱德华使劲回忆自己对古德森的恩惠。刚开始，他还因为对玛丽说了假话——如果说那也算假话——有点儿惴惴不安。后来他经过再三思索——就算说的是假话，那又怎么样呢？这算什么大不了的事吗？咱们不是经常作假吗？既然假的能作，怎么就不能说呢？你看玛丽——看她都干了什么。他抓紧时间做老实事的时候，她做什么呢？她正在吃后悔药呢，后悔自己没有毁了那张字条，把钱昧下来！偷东西能比说假话好到哪里去？
这一点不再那么显眼了——撒谎的事退居后台，而且还留下了一点儿聊以自慰的东西。另一点却变得突出了：他真帮过人家的忙吗？你看，史蒂文森的信里说了，有古德森自己为证；再也没有比这更好的证明了——这简直是他自己提交的证书啊。确定无疑。因此这一点就没问题了——不，并不是毫无问题。他忐忑不安地回想起，帮忙的人究竟是理查兹，还是其他什么人，这位素不相识的史蒂文森先生并没有十分把握，——而且，哎呀，他还把这件事全都托付给理查兹了！理查兹只能自己来决定这笔钱应该归谁——假如理查兹不是那个该拿钱的人，他一定会胸怀坦荡地把该拿钱的人找出来，对此史蒂文森先生毫不怀疑。把人摆布到这种地步，多可恨哪——哎，史蒂文森难道就不能不留下这个疑点吗！他为什么要多此一举呢？
再往深处想想。是理查兹、而不是别人的名字留在了史蒂文森的印象中，让他觉得那个该拿钱的人就是理查兹，这到底是怎么回事呢？这一点感觉不错。是的，这一点感觉很好。说真的，他越往下想，这种感觉就越好——直到这种感觉渐渐成为实实在在的证据。于是理查兹马上把这个问题放到一旁，不去想它，因为他有一种直觉：证据一旦成立，最好不要再去纠缠。
这样一来，他理所当然地放宽了心，可是还有一件琐事却老来干扰他的注意力：他当然帮过人家的忙——这一点已经成立了；可到底帮过什么忙呢？他必须想出来 ——这件事不想出来他就不能去睡觉；只有想出来才能让他心地坦然。于是他想啊想啊。他想到了十多件事情——从可能帮过的忙，直到很可能帮过的忙——可是这些事情好像没有一件够资格，没有一件够分量，没有一件能值那么多钱——值得古德森大亨盼着能立遗嘱给他留下一笔财产。这还不算，他根本就想不起自己曾经干过这些事。那么，这个——那么，这个——究竟要帮一个什么样的忙，才能让一个人感激不尽呢？噢——拯救他的灵魂！一定是这件事。对，他现在想起来了：当初他曾经自告奋勇去劝古德森改邪归正，苦苦地劝了他足有——他正想说劝了他足有三个月；可是经过慎重考虑，还是削减为一个月，然后又削减为一个星期，削减成一天，最后减得一点不剩了。是啊，他现在想起来了，那个场面不大好受，可是却历历在目，古德森当时让他滚蛋，少管闲事——他可不跟在哈德莱堡的屁股后面上天堂！
这条路走不通——他并没有拯救过古德森的灵魂。理查兹泄了气。稍停，又一个念头冒了出来：他挽救过古德森的财产吗？不行，这办不到——他是个穷光蛋。救过他的命？对呀。正是。哎呀，他早就该想到这一点了。这一次他总算走对了路，毫无疑问。顷刻之间，他的想象机器就使劲转了起来。
在此后的整整两个小时里，他呕心沥血，忙于拯救古德森的性命。他尝试着历尽各种艰险救古德森一命。每次救命行动都推进到了一个功德圆满的地步；就在他开始深信这一行动确有其事的时候，总会冒出一个细节来捣乱，把整个事情都搅成无稽之谈。就拿救落水的古德森这个例子来说。这一次他劈波斩浪向前冲，把不省人事的古德森拖上岸来，四周还有一大群人围观喝彩；可是，正当他已经把整个过程想好，开始把这一切铭记在心的时候，一大堆拆台的细节却纷至沓来：这种事情镇上的人们总得知道吧，玛丽总得知道吧；自己的记忆里如果有这种事情，也会像打着灯笼一样照得清清楚楚，这又不是那种不足挂齿的小事，怎么会做完还“不知道帮了人家多大的忙”呢。还有，到了这个地步，他才想起来：自己还不会凫水呢。
啊——有一点他从开始就忽略了：这件事必须是他已经帮了别人的忙却“不知道这忙帮得究竟有多大”。唉，真是的，要找这样的事应该是不费吹灰之力嘛——比找其他事情容易多了。果然如此，不久他就想出了一件。好多好多年以前，古德森眼看就要和一个名叫南茜·体维特的非常漂亮的甜妞成亲，但是出于种种原因，这桩婚事后来还是吹了；那姑娘死了，古德森依然是个单身汉，而且慢慢变成了一个尖酸刻薄瞧谁都不顺眼的家伙。那姑娘死后不久，镇子上的人就发现，或是自以为早就知道：她有一点点黑人血统。理查兹把各种细枝末节想了半天，感到他终于想起了一些与此有关的事情，这些事情一定是因为好多年无暇顾及，已经从记忆中消失了。他似乎隐隐约约记得，当初就是他自己发现姑娘沾点儿黑人血统，也是他把这个消息告诉了镇子上的人，镇子上的人也告诉了古德森他们是从哪里得来的消息；他就如此这般地挽救了古德森，使他免于和那个血统不纯的姑娘结婚。他帮了古德森一个大忙，却“不知道这个忙帮得有多大”，说实在的，他根本就不知道是在帮人家的忙，可是古德森明白帮这个忙的价值，也明白他是怎样侥幸逃脱的，于是才在临死前对帮他忙的人千恩万谢，巴不得能留给他一笔财产。现在全都弄清楚了，事情再简单不过，他越想这件事就越明白、越实在；最后，当他舒舒服服地躺下，心满意足、高高兴兴准备睡觉的时候，这件事在他的记忆中就像是昨天刚刚发生的一样。说真的，他还能隐约记得古德森有一次对他表示过谢意。就在理查兹思考的这段时间里，玛丽已经为她自己花了六千元买新房子，还给她的牧师买了一双拖鞋，此刻她安安稳稳地睡着了。
就在这个星期六的晚上，邮递员给镇子上的其他各位大户分别送去了一封信——一共送了十九封。每个信封都不一样，信封上的笔迹各不相同，可是里面的信除了一个地方之外分毫不差。每封信都和理查兹收到的那一封如出一辙——笔迹和其他一切——所有信的落款都是史蒂文森，只是在有理查兹名字的地方换上了其他收信人的名字。
整整一夜，那十八位本镇大户在同样的时间里做了与他们同命相连的理查兹做的同一件事——他们集中精力，想记起他们曾在无意中给巴克利·古德森帮过什么忙。无论对谁来说，这都不是、桩轻而易举的工作；然而他们都成功了。
在他们从事这项艰苦工作的同时，他们的妻子却用了一夜的时间来轻轻松松地花钱。一夜之间，十九位太太平均每人把那只口袋里的四万块钱花了七千块——加起来一共是十三万三千块钱。
第二天杰克·哈里代大吃一惊。他看出镇上的十九位要人及其夫人脸上重新呈现出安详圣洁的快乐神情。对此他不光难以理解，也想不出词来消除或者扰乱这种情绪。现在该轮到他对生活感到不满了。他暗自对这种快乐的起因作了诸多猜测，然而一经推敲，没有一条能站得住脚。他碰见威尔科克斯太太的时候，看见她那心醉神迷的样子，就想道：“她家的猫生了小猫咪了”——去问她家的厨子：结果并无此事。厨子也发觉了这四喜气，却不知道喜从何来。哈里代发现“老实人”（镇上人送的外号）比尔逊脸上也有心醉神迷的表情，就断定比尔逊的哪一家邻居摔断了腿，但是调查表明，此事也未曾发生。格里高利·耶茨强忍着得意忘形只可能有一种原因——他的丈母娘死了：结果又猜错了。“那么平克顿——平克顿——他一定是要回来一角钱的老账，这笔钱他本来以为没有盼头了。”如此等等。有的猜测只能存疑，有些则业已证明是大错特错。最后，哈里代自言自语地说：“不管怎么样，眼下哈德莱堡有十九家一步登天了。我还不清楚这件事的前因后果，我只知道上帝今天不值班。”
有一位邻州的设计师兼建筑商近日来到这个前景暗淡的镇子，冒险办了一家小公司，挂牌已经有一个星期了，还没有一个顾客上门。这人垂头丧气，后悔他不该来。谁料到突然间云开雾散。那些小镇大户的太太们一个接一个来找他，悄悄地说：
“下星期一到我们家来——不过这件事你先别声张。我们正打算盖房子哪。”
这一天他接到了十一家的邀请。当天晚上他给女儿写信，废了女儿和她一个学生的婚事。他说，她能找到一个比那小子好一万倍的。
银行家平克顿和其他两三位富家汉子筹划着盖乡村别墅——不过他们要先等等再说。这种人是不见兔子不放鹰的。
威尔逊夫妇策划了一个新派盛会——一场化妆舞会。他们并没有真地邀请客人，只是秘而不宣地告诉所有的亲戚朋友，他们正在考虑这件事，认为应该举办这场舞会 ——“只要我们办舞会，当然会请你啦。”大家都出乎意料，议论纷纷：“嘿，他们准是疯了吧，威尔逊家这对穷鬼哪儿办得起舞会呀。”十九家中有几家的太太私下对他们的丈夫说：“这倒是个好主意：我们先别声张，等到他们那个穷会完了，我们自己再来办一个，让他们的脸没处放。”
时光流逝，预算开销也水涨船高，越来越没谱，越来越愚蠢，越来越无所顾忌了。现在看来，好像这十九家中的任何一家在进账日之前不但要花光那四万块钱，而且还真的要在那笔款子到手的时候借债呢。有几户头脑简单的不满足于纸上谈兵，竟然真的花起钱来了——靠赊账。他们买地，抵押产业，买进农场，做股票投机生意，买漂亮衣服，买马，买各种各样的东西，先用现金付了小头，剩下的大头定期付清——以十天为限。没过多久，这些人三思之后开始清醒，于是哈里代注意到一种可怕的忧虑爬上了很多人的脸庞。他又糊涂了，不明白他们又忧从何来。“不是威尔科克斯家的猫咪死了，因为它们本来就没有生出来；没有人摔断腿；丈母娘的队伍没有减员；什么事也没有发生——这真是个猜不透的问葫芦。”
还有一个人百思不得其解——这就是伯杰斯牧师。近来他无论走到哪里，不是有人跟着他，就是有人正在找他；只要他走到一个僻静的地方，那十九家当中就肯定会有一家的人出现，偷偷把一个信封塞到他手里，再加上一句耳语：“星期五晚上在镇公所拆开，”然后就做贼心虚似地溜走了。一他原来猜想也许会有一个人申领那只钱袋——也说不定没有，毕竟古德森已经死了，——可是他从来没想过会有这么多人来申领。等到星期五这个伟大的日子终于到来时，他已经收到了十九个信封。
收听单词发音 |
1
synonym
|
|
| n.同义词，换喻词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
destined
|
|
| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
acting
|
|
| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
envious
|
|
| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
applied
|
|
| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
rev
|
|
| v.发动机旋转，加快速度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
jack
|
|
| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
smirking
|
|
| v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
sleek
|
|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
endorsement
|
|
| n.背书；赞成，认可，担保；签(注)，批注 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
intoxication
|
|
| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
moody
|
|
| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
longingly
|
|
| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
disparaging
|
|
| adj.轻蔑的，毁谤的v.轻视( disparage的现在分词 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
diligently
|
|
| ad.industriously;carefully | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
vacancy
|
|
| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
dreary
|
|
| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
bustle
|
|
| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
larking
|
|
| v.百灵科鸟（尤指云雀）( lark的现在分词 )；一大早就起床；鸡鸣即起；（因太费力而不想干时说）算了 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
desolate
|
|
| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
contented
|
|
| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
miseries
|
|
| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
tilted
|
|
| v. 倾斜的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
devoured
|
|
| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
alley
|
|
| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
favourably
|
|
| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
legitimate
|
|
| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
gratitude
|
|
| adj.感激，感谢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
caressing
|
|
| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
brag
|
|
| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
hemming
|
|
| 卷边 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
crumbling
|
|
| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
lamenting
|
|
| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
wince
|
|
| n.畏缩，退避，（因痛苦，苦恼等)面部肌肉抽动；v.畏缩，退缩，退避 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
honourably
|
|
| adv.可尊敬地，光荣地，体面地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
odious
|
|
| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
intrude
|
|
| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
inordinately
|
|
| adv.无度地，非常地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
perilous
|
|
| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
ashore
|
|
| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
swarm
|
|
| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
veins
|
|
| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
tainted
|
|
| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
benefactor
|
|
| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
luminous
|
|
| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
slippers
|
|
| n. 拖鞋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
pastor
|
|
| n.牧师，牧人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
placid
|
|
| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
ecstasy
|
|
| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
inquiry
|
|
| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
subdued
|
|
| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
providence
|
|
| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
privately
|
|
| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
speculative
|
|
| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |