“O Oscar—my life! there is some terrible secret which you would keep even from me. You have done something—something wrong. This is like a thorn in your conscience; you cannot find peace until it is taken away.” Io unconsciously pressed very tightly the arm which she grasped.
“I cannot take the thorn out of my own breast to plant it in yours,” said her husband.
“I would welcome it, if my sorrow could give you peace,” exclaimed Io. “Mine own, my beloved, tell me all; let me judge—let your Io judge whether there is anything too painful for her to suffer, if she can only help to remove from her Oscar this secret, terrible pain. It is my desire—my entreaty—my right—at least to judge for myself.”
“Judge then, for you shall know all. I will hide nothing, even if confession1 should rob me of my most precious possession—your affection,” said Oscar gloomily, motioning to Io to sit down on the large trunk, and then taking his place at her side. Io would have rested her head on her husband’s breast, but he made a movement to prevent her so doing. “Not now, not now,” murmured Oscar; “wait till you have heard all.”
Io waited for several minutes till Oscar should break the silence which followed. She felt somewhat as a wretch2 condemned3 to be blown from a cannon4 might feel while awaiting the fatal explosion. When Oscar spoke5 at last it was with rapid utterance6, as if to shorten suspense7 and pain.
“You remember our happiness at the time of our engagement—happiness almost perfect, till one day I showed petulance8, and cost you the first tears which I ever saw you shed.”
“Yes,” replied Io sadly: “you were annoyed when Walter climbed higher than yourself to bring a flower from a very steep place, and I was foolish enough to put the flower in my hair. I was a silly, vain child,” she added humbly9. “It was new to me to be loved as you loved me; I am afraid that I liked to tease, and show my power by playing with your feelings.”
“A woman who does so plays with edge-tools,” muttered Oscar.
“But all was set right at once,” cried Io. “I convinced you that I had never loved any man but yourself; that I merely amused myself with poor Walter because he was my cousin, brought up in the same nursery, and I liked his fun and his practical jokes. Surely I quite convinced you, Oscar?”
“You did convince me, Io. I saw that I had been a jealous, unreasonable10 fool. You and I were happy once more.”
“And it was never possible that my unfortunate cousin could give you a moment’s uneasiness again,” said Io. “He died about the time of your return. Walter had made a foolish bet that he would climb an inaccessible11 cliff; he failed—fell—and, alas12! perished.”
“Walter did not fail, nor fall—till he was thrown down by these accursed hands,” said Oscar abruptly13. He dared not look at his wife as he spoke; he could not have met her look of horror.
“Now you know why I could not lead the devotions of others, why I dared not approach the Holy Table. Could I—wretch that I am—offer up petitions with guilty lips, take the emblems15 of redeeming16 love into a murderer’s blood-stained hand? No, I could not have so played the hypocrite, or I might have been struck dead on the spot.”
“I cannot believe this frightful17 tale,” gasped19 Io; “you have been dreaming it in some fit of delirium20. Why should you injure my poor cousin, from whom you parted in friendship, and whom you had not even seen for two years?”
“You know the worst; now hear what may possibly extenuate21 a little my madness—my guilt14.” Oscar spoke in a calmer tone, for he already felt something of relief from frank confession. “When I started from Moulmein to return and claim you as my bride, I was the happiest mortal on earth. Paradise seemed to open before me. The first check to my joy came at Malta, where I found no letter from Io.”
“The one which Thud detained told you why. My mother had been suddenly taken with a fit; in my great anxiety for her dear life I had forgotten the day for writing to Malta. But surely the missing of one post need not have caused you much distress22.”
“I was only somewhat troubled,” continued Oscar; “I thought that my betrothed23 might be ill, I never thought that she could be false. When the pilot met us in the Channel I made sure of a letter, and was foremost in the throng24 that crowded to the vessel’s side to seize on the contents of his bag. To my great disappointment there was no letter for me in your familiar hand, only one in your cousin’s. I tore that open with feverish25 haste: Walter would tell me whether you were ill, perhaps—as my fears suggested—dying. There were only two lines written in that fatal letter; they were branded on my brain as with burning iron—‘Io is mine; I have won the prize.’”
“Oh, the poor foolish boy!” exclaimed Io. “He did not tell you that he had given my name to his hunter, and that in a steeple-chase she was first. I remember Walter’s saying to me that he had played on you a practical joke.”
“A joke which cost the poor fellow his life, and has blasted mine,” groaned26 Oscar. “The jealousy27 which I had deemed stifled28 for ever suddenly blazed up within me, till my soul was as a furnace sevenfold heated. When the Argus neared Dover pier29 I sprang out, narrowly missing falling into the sea—spectators must have thought me mad. Would that I had been drowned, and so had never lived to look on him whom I hated! I determined30 to see you at once, and learn the whole truth from your lips. I hurried along the shortest path, that at the top of the cliffs, so often trodden with you. As I passed on I heard a voice gasp18 out my name; I saw two hands grasping the ground not two yards from the path, and I saw the head of the climber who had just reached the top of the cliff. The face had the flush caused by violent physical effort, but I deemed it the flush of triumph. It was Walter’s face; he had just breath enough left to cry, ‘I’ve won!’ Those were his last words. For a moment I appeared to be possessed31 by a demon—I was possessed, for I did the deed of which I repented32 even before I heard the sound of the crash below.”
“Then on I sped—a second Cain—resolved but on one thing—to see you, to tax you with your perfidy34, and then—I knew not what would follow. You met me with open arms and a cry of delight. You know the rest. For me there is memory of nothing but a kind of hideous35 dream, till—I know not how long afterwards—you laid before me that letter which proved that you had always been true, and that I had been not only a villain36 but a fool. Io, for some time I felt that I could not offer you a murderer’s hand; that I should fly from you and the world. Then your altered circumstances, and your mother’s, made me change my mind. I might still give you a husband’s protection, more than a husband’s love, and you should never know that marriage had linked you to one whom you might justly abhor37. Io, do you not hate me?”
Io’s only reply was throwing herself on her husband’s breast, with her arms clinging round his neck. Oscar’s confession, made at cost of so much shame and anguish38, made him seem dearer than ever.
“Oscar, I love you, oh so fondly! God loves you too, and He will forgive. Remember the thief on the cross.”
“He confessed and found mercy, but it was from a cross,” said Oscar Coldstream. “I have not yet taken up mine; I have shunned39 it—I shun40 it still.”
“What do you mean?” cried Io, raising her head; “you have confessed, and fully41. You are not a Romanist; you look not for priestly absolution.”
“Io, I have not only broken God’s law, but the laws of my country. Justice demands a victim. My cross is to let the world know my guilt, publicly to confess my crime and accept its penalty, even should it be a death of shame. Nothing less than this can give to a guilty conscience peace. You have said that it is your desire—your right—to judge; judge then what course should I take. I leave the decision in the hands of my wife.”
“I cannot judge, I cannot think—my brain turns round,” faltered42 Io, her white lips with difficulty uttering the words, while she pressed her head with both her hands.
“Sahib, all ready for starting.” How strangely the native servant’s commonplace announcement broke on the terrible stillness which had followed the exclamation43 of Io.
Mrs. Coldstream started to her feet. “Let us go, let us go quickly!” she cried wildly; “let us leave this terrible spot! I must have time to think—time to pray. I will give you my answer—to-morrow!”
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1
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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2
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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4
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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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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6
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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7
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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8
petulance
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| n.发脾气，生气，易怒，暴躁，性急 | |
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9
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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10
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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15
emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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16
redeeming
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| 补偿的，弥补的 | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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18
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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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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delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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extenuate
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| v.减轻，使人原谅 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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betrothed
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| n. 已订婚者 动词betroth的过去式和过去分词 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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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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33
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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34
perfidy
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| n.背信弃义，不忠贞 | |
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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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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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abhor
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| v.憎恶；痛恨 | |
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38
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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39
shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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41
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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42
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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43
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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