Frank had been down staying at the Drakes' with his wife, and therefore did not see the grateful woman before she started. With this exception, things went on as before. The only change was in the cripple. He had altered greatly. He still worked at his wax-flower making, and studied at his books, but it was no [272] longer with the keen interest with which he had formerly6 worked. He was no longer cheerful and even gay, but would sit at his work for hours without speaking. He was much thinner than he had been, and his face had the expression of great suffering, which is often to be seen in deformed7 people. He could no longer swing himself upstairs to his bedroom, but slept in the little room on the ground-floor, which John Holl and his wife had resigned to him. Sarah Holl grieved sadly over the change; she loved the lad more than her own children; for had she not done more for him? Palpably, James was fading. He was not dying of a broken heart, but he was giving up life because he no longer cared about living. He had loved Carry, as an ordinary man could not have loved her. Other men would have their pursuits and their pleasures, and their duties; he had only her. He knew that she was not for him. He never dreamt of her in that way. It was a devotion such as a Parsee might pay to his great god of heat and light. She was as far out of his reach, and yet she lighted and gladdened his life. With her loss all its light had gone out. It never [273] entered his thought to blame her. The fire worshipper would as soon blame the sun-god when a cloud has passed between him and the earth. He cursed her destroyer; cursed him with all the intense bitterness of impotence, for none knew who was this man who had brought ruin to the quiet home in New Street. And so all his life changed to bitterness. Why was he ever born? he asked himself, over and over again; why was he sent into the earth to be a mere8 weight upon other people? Oh, that he was strong, if only for a little time; if only for long enough to find out and to kill this man who had murdered Carry. He could die then; die quietly and happily; ay, even upon a gallows9, with the world jeering10 at him and cursing him. But he was a cripple, and helpless; he had nothing to do but to die; after that it might be different. He would not be a cripple then; all his trouble would be over. Yes, the sooner he died the better.
With this feeling in his heart, it is little wonder that the cripple faded fast, and that the medicine which Sarah Holl insisted upon his taking had no salutary effect. With his adopted [274] parents he was always gentle and affectionate. He was as ready to help the children as formerly, as thoughtful and as unselfish, but the bright smile was gone; and Sarah Holl, as she looked up from her washing-tub at the quiet figure, with his work before him—but with his nimble fingers sometimes pausing awhile, while his thoughts were far away—would stop to wipe her eyes furtively11 with her checked apron12. With a woman's discernment she had felt the reason of the change; the short cry, the ghastly pallor with which he had received the first news of Carry's flight; the wild outburst of passion; the subsequent quiet sadness, were enough for her. She knew then how he had worshipped Carry. She had communicated her thoughts to John, and had ordered the children never to allude13 to the subject of Carry's absence under pain of the severest punishment. And so the girl's name was never mentioned in the little house which her presence had so often brightened.
One thing only of notability had occurred, and this had been of so extraordinary a kind, that it had upset all Mrs. Holl's calculation of time. Mr. Barton had made his usual call, and had [275] evidently been struck with the great change which had taken place in James's appearance. He had not, however, spoken upon the subject, but had come again after only a month's interval14, and had been palpably moved and excited at the sight of James's increasing weakness. He had even, when the others were talking, entered into a little private conversation with Mrs. Holl, and had inquired of her what was the cause of the illness of the cripple. Mrs. Holl had honestly told him that she did not know, and that the doctor, who had made two visits to the lad, had been unable to say what his ailment15 was. “Poor boy,” she added, “I fear he will not be with us long.”
Mr. Barton had been palpably affected16, and had promised to call again soon to see how his young friend was getting on. What was really passing in his mind, was evident from his conversation with his wife upon his return home, after two or three subsequent visits to the Holls,—
“You have got away sooner than usual, Barton,” that lady said, when he entered.
“Yes,” he said. “No use stopping.”
[276]
“Is the boy worse?” she asked anxiously.
“He is, Rachel. He is dying, there is no doubt about that. He may live a year or two; it all depends; but he is breaking up. Of course, the great question with us is, will he hold on till he is one-and-twenty? He wants nearly two years of it yet.”
“One-and-twenty won't do, Barton,” his wife said decidedly. “What is the use of getting a bond for ten thousand pounds from a boy who is going to die before he comes into his property? Who is going to pay it? After what has happened it is not likely his grandfather would pay a penny. The bond would not be worth the paper it's written on. No; if the boy is really dying, the whole game is up.”
“Yes,” her husband said, stroking his chin, “but I don't quite despair of making a good thing out of it yet. You see, the old man has two nephews, who, of course, if the boy is not heard of, are his natural heirs. One of these nephews he has, I find, quarrelled with, but what about I cannot discover; and I have tried every way I know. However, it is a regular split, and he is altogether out of it; so the other expects to step into the [277] old man's shoes. Now for the last three months, seeing that the boy is dying, I have had Benjamin at work, finding out about this other one. He is a hard-fisted, sharp young fellow, and he is said to be a 'cute hand at a bargain; and about as hard a chap to get over as you could want. A regular grinder. He has got some big works on down in the country, and his men hate him like poison. Benjamin says he don't know that he ever knew a young one so hated. Now I should think I might work him a bit. Just tell him the heir is alive, and that I can produce him. I don't know after all that it would not be as good as the old thing, and no fear of a blow up. What do you think, Rachel?”
“Well, it might do,” his wife answered. “Don't you let him find out where the boy is, Barton, or he would wait till he died, and then snap his fingers at you.”
“Thank you, Rachel; I am not quite a fool,” her husband said grimly. “In a matter like this, which I have waited and planned for, for twenty years, I am not likely to make a mistake.”
“And you have quite made up your mind, [278] Barton, that it will be better to try with the next heir?”
“Quite, Rachel; I have thought it over in every light, and I don't see that there is any chance now of getting anything out of this boy after all these years of watching.”
END OF VOL. II.
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1
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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blasphemies
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| n.对上帝的亵渎，亵渎的言词[行为]( blasphemy的名词复数 )；侮慢的言词（或行为） | |
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5
fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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6
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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jeering
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| adj.嘲弄的，揶揄的v.嘲笑( jeer的现在分词 ) | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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13
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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15
ailment
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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