It was on the same unpropitious evening that Silas’s only son returned to his home from Canada.
The train discharging him at Spalding, he fought his way against wind and rain, along the lonely road on the top of the dyke1. He trudged2 with his hands in his pockets and a bundle on his back, the peculiar4 bleakness5 of the road returning familiarly to him after his absence of seven years. It was dark, but through occasional rifts6 the moon appeared, showing him the floods; they were familiar too,—their wide flat stretches lying on either side of the high dyke, and swept by the East Anglian wind straight from the North Sea,—he knew in his very bones the shape and sensation of the Fens7; this was homecoming. There was a knowledge, a grasp of the size, shape, and colour—almost of taste and smell—a consciousness that marked off home from any other place.
110When he reached the village, he felt in similar manner the presence of the factory on the one hand, and of the abbey on the other, with the village lying between them. His boots rang on the stone of the pavements. That was the school, and this the concert-room.... He reached the double cottage of his father and his uncle; he thought he would surprise his father and mother, so without knocking he turned the door-handle and went in.
Nan was still sitting by the table on which her zither lay; her hands were clasped and drooped8 listlessly. Her whole attitude betrayed her dejection. Morgan stood by the range talking. They were alone, and young Dene recoiled9, thinking he had broken in upon strangers, though the smile was still broadly upon his face, with which he had prepared to greet his parents’ surprise.
“I’ve made a mistake,” he muttered, “this used to be Silas Dene’s cottage ... my name’s Martin Dene.”
He was a bronzed young man, with thick black hair, a Roman nose, and a fine curved mouth; a proud face, like the face upon a coin.
“Can you tell me where my father lives now?” he added. He looked at them frankly10; he took them for a young married couple.
111“Why, Martin!” cried Nan, recognising him.
“Why, it’s Nancy Holden,” he said almost at the same moment. They greeted one another gladly. “You’re married? living here?” he asked, with a glance at Morgan.
“Married to your uncle Gregory....”
“No! He could be your father!” exclaimed young Dene na?vely, and again he glanced at Morgan.
“Oh, no,” said Nan, flushing, and she hurried on with an explanation, “Your father lives here still, but he went out a little time back; he said he was going to the abbey. He’ll be in presently. Sit down; I’ll get you a cup of tea.”
“But where’s mother?” asked Martin Dene, and in his impulsive11, attractive manner he strode across the room, flung open the door that led to the staircase, and shouted “Mother!”
II
“What’s that?” cried Silas, startling them all.
They had not heard him come in. He stood on the threshold, his hand outstretched, the likeness12 between himself and his son strongly apparent. 112“What’s that?” he repeated; “who’s that, calling ‘Mother’ here?”
“Silas, it’s Martin come home,” said Nan, who was trembling and who had gone, quite unwittingly, closer to Morgan.
“Martin? it’s suited him to come back, after seven years?” Silas uttered a derisive13 “Ho!” He added, “It’s too late, my boy, to come here calling ‘Mother.’ That’s rich, that is—eh, Nan?”
“What d’you mean?” said Martin Dene, swinging round.
“Your mother’s dead, that’s what I mean.”
“Dead?”
“Yes, dead three months ago.”
“Dead! Mother dead? why? how?”
“Tell him, Nan.”
“Look here,” said Morgan, speaking for the first time, “I’m sorry you’ve got to learn this news....”
“Oh, smooth it over! water it down! I didn’t know you were there, Linnet,” interrupted Silas. “I’ll tell him myself. Your mother was killed in an accident—picked up unrecognisable—run over by a train—now you know. Got anything to say?”
“My God!” said young Dene, covering his face. Nan went up to him and began to whisper to him; he 113heard her half through with horribly staring gaze, but then, disregarding her, he cried in a hoarse14 voice to his father, “Accident be damned! you drove her to it. I know your ways—they drove me away to Canada, and Elsie to London—I’ve seen her there—and they drove mother to that—come, own up! it was suicide, wasn’t it?” He made a movement towards his father, but Nan clung to his arm.
“No, I swear it wasn’t,” replied Silas, full of a grim amusement at his suggestion.
“Well, how did it happen, then? What’s your account of what happened? Did any one see?”
As neither of the others answered, Morgan said, “Nobody saw it happen.”
Martin leapt on to that. “So it was never explained?”
“No,” said Morgan, “the coroner’s inquest gave Accidental Death.” Martin laughed.
“You’re going now, I suppose?” said Silas, “Morgan’s answered you, and his answer can hardly satisfy you. Suspicion’s a sleepless15 guest in the mind.”
“You’re alone now, father?” asked the son. His tone altered as a sort of pity and repentance16 overcame him, and as he remembered his father’s blindness. 114“Perhaps I spoke17 too hasty, father; see here, I’ll stop on with you if you like.”
“I don’t like; you can get out,” said Silas. Morgan and Nan gave an exclamation18.
“I’ll stop to-night; we’re not calm, either of us.”
“I don’t remember you calm, somehow?” Silas sneered19. Martin’s temper, which he had controlled, rose again.
“I’ll get out, then,” he said, moving towards the door. Nan, through her terror, thought him very handsome,—bronze and black, his bony cheeks still glistening20 from the rain.
“You needn’t bother to come back, after another seven years.”
“Don’t you worry, father; I won’t come back.”
“Martin!” cried Nan. This flare21 of quarrel between father and son troubled her greatly; it was a disturbance22 of harmony, and she longed for the re-establishment of peace, at the same time dreading23 further questionings, further possible accusations24; Martin would probe and examine, Silas might lose his head,—Nan, knowing the truth, lived in the perpetual terror of a frenzied25 outburst of candour on Silas’s part.... He was, she knew, quite capable of such an outburst. Life, and the harmony of life, 115would be less endangered with Martin out of the way. But this was an unkind greeting for Martin at his home—poor Martin! after seven years’ absence and a trudge3 in the rain, to find his mother dead and his father ferocious26!—Nan’s fund of pity overflowed27, and she tried to compromise: “Martin! you can’t walk back to Spalding through this awful night; stop till to-morrow with Gregory, and me.”
“Not he!” said Silas, unexpectedly, and as though he spoke with pride.
“They mean everything kindly, Martin,” said Silas, indicating the other two. He continued to speak with the same curious understanding towards his son. Nan and Morgan, separately, stood repudiated29 and estranged30.
Martin Dene nodded, his eyes meditatively31 upon them.
“Won’t you stop, Martin?” urged Nan’s timid voice.
“I’ve said an unforgivable thing to father,” he said, turning to her, in patient explanation.
“But you didn’t think it, Martin; tell your father you didn’t think it.”
116“I did think it; I still think it; father knows that. I shall always think it. That’s why I can’t stop. So long,” he said, shouldering his bundle; he nodded to them again and went out.
III
“Are you satisfied now, Silas, are you satisfied?” Silas kept mumbling32 to himself later as with haste he tore his clothes off in the dark.
He would tell Lady Malleson—tell her that he had wantonly thrown out his own son. What would she think of that? Once she had said he was terrible; he hoped that she would say it again. The words had crowned him with a rare reward. Surely he had earned their repetition?
He scrambled33 into his bed; lay there with his muscles jerking. He tautened them, trying to keep them still, but could not. Martin, yes; he had thrown out Martin. That was a resolute34 thing to do. It was all of a piece with what had gone before; Hannah had ministered to his comfort; in a rough and ready way, it was true, often more rough than ready; but still she had ministered; and Hannah, along with his personal comfort and convenience, had been sacrificed when necessity dictated35. (If he chose to consider 117in the light of a necessity the suspicion of an outrage36 upon his own sensitive dignity which another man might have dismissed as negligible, even inevitable37, that was his own business; nobody else’s.) Hannah had gone. Now Hannah’s son, for a quick, intuitive suspicion of his father, had gone too—thrown out to founder38, possibly, though the sequel was now no concern of Silas’s; Martin was proud, Martin would not return, least of all to appeal for help. Lying awake in the night that to him was no more deeply night than midday, Silas fought his regret for Martin. Martin had come, his memory rich with what garnered39 tales of peril40? he had led a hunter’s life among red men, bony, painted, feathered men; he had tracked wounded beasts, either great-horned or soft-footed; he had dared the great solitudes41, blazed his way through forests, and taken his chance of the rapids; with all this, Martin, a fine young man, would have beguiled42 his father’s ears and opened new horizons to his insatiable fancy. Bringing all this with him, like a pedlar’s pack, Martin had tramped along the dyke from Spalding; no doubt with a certain pitiful eagerness he made his way home from the incredible distance of that rough primitive43 world. Tears forced themselves 118out from Silas’s sightless eyes. He had never wept for Hannah, he had hated Hannah, even when through her death she became, poor woman, an object of satisfaction to his insecure vanity; an object, too, of allurement44 to his prowling cowardice45. But for Martin he wept, for Martin and all that Martin stood for. Then envy shook him, that Martin, free, young, keen-sighted, and, above all, fearless,—fearlessness was the only true freedom,—should be returning to that worthy46 life, in more ways than one a hunter of big game. Big game! to the simple, eager nature all life was big game. The actual quarry47; the stake in a hazardous48 enterprise; the test of endurance; or the interlude of women,—all that was big game; a big, audacious, masculine game. The hint, the mere49 passing suggestion, of enterprise acted as a sufficient stimulant50, under which his imagination flamed at once as a torch, widening a bright, lit space in the darkness, populating it with figures full of splendour, heroically proportioned. He reached out to another and more ardent51 life, away from the security in which he so carefully preserved himself. He was pierced through by the sheer valour of man, as a shaft52 of light might on a sudden have pierced his 119darkness. He beheld53 man, small, imperfect, but dauntless; sustained by a spirit of extraordinary intrepidity54, intent upon the double mastery of his planet and of his own soul; man, stern against his own weakness, checked here and thwarted55 there by the inner treachery of his own heart, foiled in his ambitions, cast down from such summits as he had attained56, but ever fighting forward in the pursuit of an end perhaps undistinguishable, to which the path of conquest, so difficult, so jeopardous, was in itself a measure of recompense. So he was blind, as blind as Silas himself; the more honourable57 because, despite his blindness, he still wrought58 undeterred.
How various were his pursuits, his methods of conquest! to maintain and advance himself in the supreme59 captaincy; so diverse the images of vigour60 which the labourer in his activity was too simple to suspect. There were men who wrested61 from the earth the last guarded secrets, pitting their limbs against forest, mountain, ice, or waterless plain; only their soft limbs against the giant sentries62 of unhandseled nature; those who scored the monotonous63 sea with the rich and coloured roads of commerce, heaping in the harbours of the world 120the strangeness of cargoes64, always strange because always exotic; those who tilled the responsive soil; the hunters, the fighters, and the princes; others who, living their true life, sequestered65 and apart by reason of their austere66 calling, through a patience so immense that the profound darkness of the mysteries with which it dealt was punctuated67 by reward of fresh light only here and there along the wide-spaced generations, gained fragment by fragment the knowledge of the ordering of distant worlds; the women who bore the burden of fresh lives,—he could feel himself alien to none of these, neither to the law-givers nor the law-breakers; the acquiescent68 nor the rebellious69; no, nor the spare anchorite who aspired70 through lonely frugality71 and penance72 towards the same summit of domination; he stretched out his hand, alike to king and prostitute, and with the falling strove still to uplift the tattered73 standard, and with the multitude of the triumphant74 marched upon the road of pride. All this he saw with a clarity, a wholeness that was in the nature of actual beholding75 far more than of the blurred76 confusion of a vision. He had his landscape under sharp sunlight, precision of detail allying itself with breadth of horizon. He saw, too, skulking77 in and 121out amongst the pageantry rich with legend that went its way under windy banners, he saw dark, puny78, ignoble79 figures; not one of them bore the tool of an honest craft, but small forked tongues darted80 between their lips; and in his abasement81 he included himself in their number, and questioned whether the rest of them, damned spirits, worshipped in secret, as he did, the magnificence they must envenom because they could not share?
IV
Then with a rush of incredulous disgust the constituents82 of his own existence stood out in the same white light; confused, craven, petty; a tangle83 that he despised and loathed84 with a weak fury, the more that he could not extricate85 himself. Envy without emulation86, spite without hatred87, violence without strength! Then the personages: Hambley, the lick-spittle go-between; Christine Malleson, whose pretended mental companionship with him disguised the claw of cruelty; inanimate objects, the floods, the gale88; Hannah, a ghost now, not a personage, a ghost that gave him no rest, try as he would to weld the whole incident to his own uses, to the furtherance of his own self-confidence; 122Martin, sacrificed for the same purpose; Nan, the object of an as yet ill-defined, floating malevolence89 that crouched90 ready for a spring on to the back of the first poor pretext91; all the men, his fellows, in whom he amused himself by fostering dissatisfaction; and, lastly, he found that he must include an animal in this lamentable92 population,—the donkey on the green, that, no less than the others, had, that evening, fallen a victim to his need for mischief93; the coarse pelt94 was still vivid under his fingers, as he had slid his hand down the leg, till he came to the fetlock, and he remembered now the sharp puncture95 of the knife into the sinew, and the animal’s start of pain—to this, to this had he sunk! when he crept out from the abbey, his soul seething96 with blasphemy97, and his fingers closing over the penknife in his pocket! A small, mad deed,—all that his soul in travail98 could bring forth99. In this deed, tinily terrible, had his exaltation culminated100; the exaltation engendered101 by storm, by the disaster on the dyke, by the organ swelling102 in the ruined abbey, by the suggestion of the Black Mass.
He rolled from side to side in his bed, tearing at the blankets with his teeth.
He directed his despair and fury then against 123Christine Malleson, making her responsible for this ruthless savagery103 which always possessed104 him, without system or goal beyond a need to damage everything that was happy, prosperous, and entire. True, she was partly responsible; she was responsible for the pranks105 of experiment that she played upon him, stirring and poking106 his mind, his ambitions, into a blaze, and the chill “Don’t forget yourself,” with which she quenched107 the flame. He raged against Christine: she had him at a disadvantage; he must strive always to compete with her serenity108 of class; she drew him out from his own class, aroused his angry socialism, laughed at the gaps in his knowledge, gave him glimpses of a life whose significance and habit he could never encompass109, but which he burnt with an envious110 hatred to destroy; then she would laugh at him again,—she, who had come down from her heights to walk curiously111 in his valleys,—she would laugh, and he would fling away into fresh magniloquence, seeking to impress her; and when the time came for him to take his leave, the excitable irritation112 provoked by her remained still unappeased, consuming his vitals. But this he believed she did not suspect. So far as he knew, he had deceived her; he had passed off upon her the old fraud of 124making her believe him strong when he was, in reality, the bewildered, unhappy prey113 of his own weakness. The thought that he had so deceived her gave him a little satisfaction. He would tell her about Martin; she would catch her breath. He would not tell her about the donkey. And he swayed again from the paltry114 tangle of his own life to the bright heroic visions that alone contented115 him, weeping with an incurable116 sorrow, but whether for Martin or the vague grandeur117 of the unattainable, he could not well have said.
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1
dyke
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| n.堤，水坝，排水沟 | |
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2
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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trudge
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| v.步履艰难地走；n.跋涉，费力艰难的步行 | |
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4
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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bleakness
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| adj. 萧瑟的, 严寒的, 阴郁的 | |
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6
rifts
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| n.裂缝( rift的名词复数 )；裂隙；分裂；不和 | |
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fens
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| n.（尤指英格兰东部的）沼泽地带( fen的名词复数 ) | |
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8
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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10
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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11
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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12
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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13
derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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14
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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15
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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16
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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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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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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19
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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27
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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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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repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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estranged
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| adj.疏远的，分离的 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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32
mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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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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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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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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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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Founder
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| n.创始者，缔造者 | |
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39
garnered
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| v.收集并（通常）贮藏（某物），取得，获得( garner的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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42
beguiled
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| v.欺骗( beguile的过去式和过去分词 )；使陶醉；使高兴；消磨（时间等） | |
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43
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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44
allurement
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| n.诱惑物 | |
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45
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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46
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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47
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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48
hazardous
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| adj.(有)危险的，冒险的；碰运气的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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50
stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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51
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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52
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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53
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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54
intrepidity
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| n.大胆，刚勇；大胆的行为 | |
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55
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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56
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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wrested
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| （用力）拧( wrest的过去式和过去分词 )； 费力取得； （从…）攫取； （ 从… ） 强行取去… | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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cargoes
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| n.（船或飞机装载的）货物( cargo的名词复数 )；大量，重负 | |
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sequestered
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| adj.扣押的；隐退的；幽静的；偏僻的v.使隔绝，使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 )；扣押 | |
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austere
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| adj.艰苦的；朴素的，朴实无华的；严峻的 | |
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punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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68
acquiescent
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| adj.默许的，默认的 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
frugality
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| n.节约，节俭 | |
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penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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skulking
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| v.潜伏，偷偷摸摸地走动，鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的现在分词 ) | |
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78
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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82
constituents
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| n.选民( constituent的名词复数 )；成分；构成部分；要素 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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85
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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86
emulation
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| n.竞争；仿效 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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malevolence
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| n.恶意，狠毒 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch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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lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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puncture
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| n.刺孔，穿孔；v.刺穿，刺破 | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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98
travail
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| n.阵痛；努力 | |
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99
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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100
culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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103
savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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104
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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105
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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106
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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107
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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108
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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109
encompass
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| vt.围绕，包围；包含，包括；完成 | |
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110
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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111
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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112
irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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113
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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114
paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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115
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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116
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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117
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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