Seven years of prison doctoring had not blunted the first fine temper of Leonard Scott's sympathy. Doctors in general, even in ordinary practice, have to harden themselves or break down; Scott stuck to his work year after year, and yet contrived1 to remain as tender-hearted as a novice2 at his first death-bed. He was steeped in that fount of love and strength, romance and poetry, known as the Catholic faith. Not the Roman Catholic faith, be it observed. Nothing annoyed him more than to be called a papist—except to be called a Protestant.
He was a dreamer, a saint, a mystic, this dapper little man with the snappy manner and the aggressively white linen3; a citizen of the heavenly Jerusalem, whose ports of pearl and streets of shining gold were more real to him than the walls of Westby Jail. Saints and martyrs4 crowded heaven to applaud his progress; warrior5 angels fought at his right hand; Christ himself stooped to him in the mystery of the Eucharist. In this faith he was able to go on working hopefully at his hopeless task—for what, after all, was the use of patching up these wretched bodies which in a few weeks must go back to the dirt and the vices6 that had bred their disease? Leonard Scott thought it was a great deal of use; he loved his criminals. The sociologist7 would have seen Westby Jail as a garbage heap meet for the furnace; the Christian8 idealist went about joyfully9 picking up pearls.
But a faith which removes mountains may fail to console the man who has to appear in knickerbockers at a dinner-party; and this child of heaven was made very uncomfortable[Pg 202] by the addition of Gardiner to his happy family of jail-birds. He hated attending as prison doctor on the man whom his evidence had helped to convict, and he did not like Gardiner himself. He thought him flippant, a quality which arises punctually to answer expectation. Since he did not like him, he felt he ought to cultivate him; your man of conscience always feels his duty to be the thing he doesn't want to do. In this case, however, Scott fell short of his duty. He carefully avoided Gardiner, and was rather annoyed to find that Gardiner seemed equally anxious to avoid him. Never did he bother his doctor for pills and potions. Yet Scott, who kept an uneasy eye upon his embarrassing patient, could see that prison life was not agreeing with his health.
One day he overheard two warders comparing notes about B14. He had been getting into hot water; he had smashed everything in his cell, and finished up by smashing a warder. "My word! he did give us ginger11. You never see anything like it!" said Warder Barnes, with a touch of surprised admiration12. "It's what I always 'ave said—them quiet, eddicated ones gives twice as much trouble as the others when they do give trouble," assented13 Warder Mason. B14 was now in the punishment cells on a chastening diet of bread and water. Scott felt more than ever that he ought to find some pretext14 for seeing him, but he didn't do so.
Going back to prison after his trial seemed to Gardiner like entering the black mouth of a tunnel. There were the unescapable walls on either side, and the weight of a mountain overhead, the horror of panic pressing up behind, and the interminable stretch of black blank darkness through which he must grope before he could hope to see, far off, the first faint whiteness of deliverance. Yet the first days were not so bad as he had expected. Some of the outer light lingered on for a time; Lettice's face—she had not looked at him while giving her evidence, but at the end, just as she was leaving the box, she had turned deliberately15 and smiled at him across the court. That look went with him far into the darkness. It was the nights that were the worst.[Pg 203] There were moments, then, when he had to hold off panic by the throat. But he was carefully prudent16; he worked with all his might during the eight hours he was at work, and studied with all his might during the sixteen he spent in his cell. That was his last charge to his brother: "You send along some books to the prison library. Grammars and texts—I want to learn Flemish and Dutch, and I could do with some Portugoosh as well. I'm getting a bit rusty17, and they all come in handy." On these terms he found himself actually better off as a convicted criminal than he had been as a prisoner on remand. Regular work and exercise were by no means a bad exchange, even for the high privileges of wearing his own clothes and paying for his own dinner.
March came in with balmy days of relaxing sweetness. The sun at dawn stole into his cell through the ground glass of his window; and by standing18 on his stool, with his nose pressed as close to the ventilator as it would go, he could even at times smell violets. Persistent19 little friendly flowers, they had found their way into the prison yard and niched themselves between the stones of the wall; and in March every tiny seedling20 was a knot of blue.
"When the moon their hollows lights,
And they are filled with balms of spring,
The nightingales divinely sing—
Gardiner had lived all his life too close to nature to escape the call of the spring. If his work had been out of doors, in the garden or the farm, he might have come through better; but he was in the printing room; always hot and stuffy24 with glue, and his exercise was limited to the five minutes' walk to and fro. He lost his sleep, and in the long vigils he was tormented25 by visions of Rochehaut. He saw the great solemn autumnal hills, sallow in the moonlight, the leafless woods, the white crags matted with ivy26 and with the rusty growth of ferns, the Semois in flood, chrome-yellow, surging from side to side of her naked valley. He[Pg 204] remembered the large cool rooms of his home, the green light filtering through the jalousies, the white cloth blowing round the legs of the little table under the pines where he took his meals, the sound and smell of the coffee machine, the summer apples which he gathered in the orchard27, "faintly red even beneath the crimson28 skin." Like many southerners, Gardiner lived very largely on fruit; and one of the minor29 trials of his prison life was the prison diet, where fruit and vegetables are not. Most prisoners suffer from this; he suffered more than most, and could less afford the steady lowering of his health.
It happened one day, owing to some alterations30, that Gardiner had to change his cell, and was put into the older part of the prison. His new quarters were so dark that the occupant was regularly allowed a light in the daytime. The warder in charge was too busy to see to it at the moment; next day he promised to do so, but forgot, the prisoner meanwhile being left to twiddle his thumbs during the sixteen empty hours he spent each day in his cell. When, for the third time, he put forward his submissive request, Warder Thomson, a surly fellow, happened to be out of temper, and told him curtly31 not to bother. To his amazement32 the well-conducted B14 flew at him like a fury. He slipped out just in time, and blew his whistle for help. B14 meanwhile amused himself by smashing everything smashable in his cell; he kicked his tins into cocked hats, he rent his bed-clothes to ribbons, he tore his books out of their bindings and strewed33 them about the floor. It was a glorious smash, and it was followed by an even more glorious fight; for directly the door opened he flew again upon the offending Warder Thomson with the leg of his dismembered stool, and succeeded in breaking his head and knocking out two of his teeth, before he in his turn was "coshed" by an assistant, and finally brought to earth. For the space of ten exciting minutes Gardiner enjoyed himself.
But afterwards, when he came to himself in the dismal34 "solitary35" cell, and still more when he heard his punishment, and knew that he had cut himself off for two endless[Pg 205] months from his friends—then the cold reaction set in, and he went down into the depths. The first night was terrible. Panic was again at his throat; it did not succeed in pulling him down, but when the dawn came, and at the cheerful sounds of human life the furies shrank back into their shades, he knew that he had been very near—something. What he feared he did not know, but he did know that if his fear got the mastery, if he lost his self-command, he would not be fit to go to Lettice at the end of his term.
He lay thinking very earnestly, open-eyed. It was perfectly36 plain what he ought to do: he ought to put down his name to see the doctor, who would give him bromide or something to settle his nerves. And there was more in it than that; he ought to see Scott about another small trouble which had nothing to do with nerves, and which, if he had chosen to put it forward, would have been a mitigating37 circumstance in the mind of the Governor when he pronounced sentence. Oh, he was a fool—he really was a fool! Why, if he had even chosen to state his grievance38 about the light he might have got off with quarter penalty, perhaps with none at all. Captain Harding wasn't half a bad old chap, he made allowances for human nature, even in a criminal. But would Gardiner do that? Not he! He had stood sullenly39 dumb, refusing to defend himself, refusing to answer a single question. It went against the grain with him to explain, to make excuses, even to admit that he was ill. Yet could he stand another night like the last? He would have preferred to; he would have butted40 his obstinate41 head into death or even madness, sooner than bend his pride. But there was Lettice to be considered, and all her little fads42 about standing up to things and not running away.
When Warder Barnes came in the evening to bring his supper of bread and water and collect the mail-bags which he should have sewn (prisoners in the punishment cells do not go out to work), he found the pile untouched. Gardiner had not done one. Barnes pursed up his lips to a whistle.
"Hullo, hullo! now this ain't sense, B14. Why ain't you done your work to-day?"
[Pg 206]
"Because I haven't," said the prisoner. He was sitting on his stool with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands; he reached out for the water Barnes had brought and drank it at a draught43, but otherwise he did not stir.
"That's silly talk," said the warder reprovingly. It was the same little Cockney who had admired what he called B14's ginger; a kindly44 little soul, as many of the prison attendants are. "You're only makin' trouble for yourself. Ain't you had enough already?" The prisoner made no sign. "Come now! You give me your word as you'll do your job to-morrow, and I'll pass you light this time. Don't want another week of it in 'ere, do you?" Still no answer. "Oh, well, I can't wait all night, if you choose to be refractory45 you must," said Barnes, rather short, because his kindness had met with no response. He gathered up the untouched bags. "I shall 'ave to report you, that's all."
He was just going out of the door when the prisoner moved.
"I say."
"Well?"
"I couldn't do those bags," said Gardiner. "My hand's bad."
"Your hand bad! What's the matter with it?"
Barnes snatched roughly at the half-extended fingers. They were torn out of his grasp. "Damn you," said Gardiner very quietly. Even in the darkness Barnes could see his face, scarlet46 with sudden pain.
"I didn't mean to 'urt you," he said gruffly. "I thought you was malingering. What have you done to your 'and?"
"I don't malinger47, and I haven't done anything to my hand," the prisoner retorted. His tone was short; he was still nursing his wrist and biting his lip. "But the fact remains48, I can't sew. If you wouldn't mind putting me down to see the doctor, I should be much obliged. There's my ticket."
"Let's 'ave a look." Gardiner would rather have put his fist, pain and all, into the man's face; he silently extended his palm. "My word! that gives you pen and ink, I lay,"[Pg 207] said Barnes with critical interest. "I say, I'm sorry I hurt you, B14; I might 'a' known you wasn't one of the 'umbuggin' sort. I'll put you down to see the doctor, never fear."
The door banged with the complacent49 decision of prison doors, and Gardiner was alone. He paid for his susceptibility to pleasure by a corresponding susceptibility to pain; Barnes had actually made him feel faint. He tumbled off his stool on to the floor and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Well! he was in for it now. Would he be able to keep up the same virtuous50 docility51 in his interview with Scott? Lord only knew! And, thinking of Lettice, he smiled. It was she who had dictated52 every word.
Barnes, good little soul, was pricked53 with compunction for his roughness. Partly on this account, and partly because, even to his unprofessional eye, B14's hand appeared to be in a bad way, he made it his business to go to Dr. Scott as soon as he could; and Scott was equally prompt in responding. The rule for the casual sick is that they are collected in a batch54 from the gangs after the "cease work" bell in the morning, and shepherded to the doctor's office, where he disposes of them in turn: summary jurisdiction55, a "tot" of No. Dash medicine, to be swallowed on the spot. B14, however, being in punishment, could not go to Mahomet, so Mahomet had to go to him. Half-an-hour after it had closed, Gardiner's door reopened to admit the doctor, with Barnes in attendance. A doctor never, in any circumstances, sees a prisoner alone.
"You wanted to see me?" said Scott in his curtest tone, because he was mortally sorry for his patient. "Got a bad hand, have you? Let's have a look."
"There wasn't any hurry, sir. I didn't want to bother you—"
"It's my business to come when I'm called, isn't it? I'm here to doctor the lot of you, aren't I? You do as you're told."
With that Scott plumped down on the stool, and took[Pg 208] the hand in his own. His touch was exquisitely58 gentle. Gardiner rather wished he had grabbed at him like Warder Barnes; but he stood submissive, and submissively answered questions. "Yes, sir, I got it rather badly crushed last summer. Yes, it did take a time to heal. No, I don't know that I felt anything particular until this began—that was about ten days ago."
"A little," Gardiner admitted.
"Suppuration of the palm is the very—" said Scott. "Don't you try to humbug60 me. I know. Damaged the bone, that's what you've done, and you aren't by any means out of the wood yet. That'll do for to-night. Now let's have a look at you. Your general health can't be up to much, or you wouldn't have a mess-up like this. Any special symptoms to complain of?"
"I've been rather off my sleep lately."
"You'd need cast-iron nerves to be on it, with your hand in that state. How long has it been going on—the insomnia61, I mean?"
"Oh, three weeks or so. Since the warm weather set in."
"Before your hand was bad, eh?"
"I suppose so."
"And the hand itself went wrong before you indulged in the pretty little scrap62 that's landed you in this pestilential hole?" said Scott. It was not a speech he ought to have made to a prisoner; but Scott was far from always saying what he ought. Besides, he had had a long battle with the authorities about the condition of the old part of the prison in general and of the punishment cells in particular, a battle in which he had been worsted, and which had left a rankling63 grudge64. The Governor had called him a meddlesome65 sentimentalist, which was true; and he had called the Governor a pig-headed martinet66, which was about equally true.
Gardiner assented with a nod. It was all against the grain, every word that he said, and every drop of the suppressed sympathy which he detected lurking67 under the little doctor's[Pg 209] extra aggressive manner. Nevertheless with another heroic effort, backed by another thought of Lettice, he constrained68 himself to add: "I think perhaps it's the indoor life, sir. I've been used to be out all day and all night. Here I'm in the printing shop; it's an interesting job, and I like it, but I think perhaps I might get on better on the farm."
"You do, do you? What do you suppose you know about it?"
"Nothing," said Gardiner, "only you asked me."
"H'm!" said the little doctor. "Well, I can't do anything more now. I'll see to you properly to-morrow." He picked himself up with his usual fierce alacrity69. Going out of the door, he turned to add: "I'll send you round a dose in half-an-hour. Warder, you see he takes it. Young fool, going on for a month till he gets into this state—he'll throw it into the slops, if you give him half a chance!"
Gardiner threw himself down on his bare plank71 bed. "O Lord!" he said with half a chuckle72 and half a groan73. "Oh, Lettice, it's a pity you weren't the fly on the wall, I think you'd have enjoyed the scene. Lord, how I do hate that little chap! and yet I don't, you know, I rather like him. I wish he'd prescribe me a cigarette, I bet that would put me to by-by better than all his boluses. I'm glad I said what I did about the farm. If he can only work that, I think, with luck, I may pull through. He's gone away breathing out mercies and indulgences. What an ass10 I am to dislike saying these things, but I certainly do. Oh, Lettice, mi prenda, alma de mi vida, luz de mis ojos—won't I make love to you in Spanish when my time comes, and won't you be not ductile74!—if I do stick it out you ought to feel uncommonly75 proud of yourself, but you won't. Never, never in my life shall I succeed in persuading you that it's all your doing, but it is."
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1
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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sociologist
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| n.研究社会学的人，社会学家 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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9
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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seedling
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| n.秧苗，树苗 | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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24
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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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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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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alterations
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| n.改动( alteration的名词复数 )；更改；变化；改变 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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33
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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36
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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mitigating
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的现在分词 ) | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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butted
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| 对接的 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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fads
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| n.一时的流行，一时的风尚( fad的名词复数 ) | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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refractory
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| adj.倔强的，难驾驭的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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malinger
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| v.装病以逃避工作 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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53
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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54
batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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jurisdiction
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| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
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56
doze
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| v.打瞌睡；n.打盹，假寐 | |
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57
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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58
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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59
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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60
humbug
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| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
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61
insomnia
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| n.失眠，失眠症 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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63
rankling
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的现在分词 ) | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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65
meddlesome
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| adj.爱管闲事的 | |
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martinet
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| n.要求严格服从纪律的人 | |
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67
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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constrained
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| adj.束缚的,节制的 | |
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69
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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70
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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71
plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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72
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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73
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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ductile
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| adj.易延展的，柔软的 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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