I loved looking at them and thinking of how the Empress Josephine might have had this or that small box upon her dressing-table. And it always gives me a curious feeling. I think old things are much more interesting because of the people who have touched them, and I have often thought that if you could touch one of these things and close your eyes you might drift off into a dream that would take you into another time, but I suppose that is silly.
After I had moved around for perhaps seven or eight minutes I heard a small boy call to another. “Come out here!” he screamed in a high soprano. “There’s a man biffed on the bean, and mebbe he’s dead!”
And how people moved! I didn’t immediately. I couldn’t, for I remembered my giving Mr. Kempwood the bracelet4, and I knew what had happened. I felt sick, and swallowed hard, although I hadn’t any more spit than usual. But that is the way that fright made me feel. . . . It was the worst I had ever felt. . . . Somehow I hurried toward the door with the crowd, and I then did the second cowardly thing which hurt one of my friends who cares for the Mansion5, I slipped off my bracelet and handed it to him.
“Until I come back----” I whispered, after a gasp6. He nodded and put it in his pocket. I suppose he thought I was afraid of sneak7 thieves in the mob which had collected. Then I pushed through the door. . . . All the excitement was back of the Mansion where--Mr. Kempwood lay on the ground--absolutely white and with his eyes closed, and people were bending over him. I began to sob8, although I didn’t cry any tears at all.
“Let me through,” I said, as I tried to get past the circle which had formed. “I know him. . . . I love him. . . . He has been good to me, and he is my friend!” And then, somehow I had reached him and was on my knees beside him, holding one of his cold, stiff hands between both of mine.
“Is he dead?” I whispered to one of the policemen.
“Stunned,” he answered. For a moment I held his hand tightly pressed against my heart, and then I began to sob harder than ever. . . . I think the relief that comes with good news often makes you more upset than the bad and hurts more. I don’t know why this is, but it is so. . . . After a few moments a policeman asked me where he lived, and I told him.
Someone offered a motor, and they began to lift Mr. Kempwood. Another officer had detained some people and was questioning them. “Weren’t you here?” he asked of a heavy old Italian woman who had been sitting on a bench, but she only shook her head, blinked and muttered: “Non parlo la Inglesa, parlo Italiano solamente!” And someone said she had been sleeping, but the officer looked doubtful.
“Nevertheless,” he said, “we will take you along,” and I, in that moment, saw that she did understand, for in her eyes was a sudden glint of terror. It faded soon, and she replaced it with a vacant look, but--I had caught the other. I think she had seen.
“She knows,” I began to say, when suddenly everything was forgotten, for, from the Jumel Mansion came a cry which began loudly and faded to a horrible silence, and the cry was for help. . . . Of course, the officers ran, and somehow--the old Italian woman slipped away. I had seen her the moment before, but when I turned back to look after Mr. Kempwood, I found only the old blind man coming up the side steps to the garden, shuffling9, shambling up, with his cane10 feeling the way. He and I and a doctor were alone.
“The old Italian woman has gone,” I said, “and I think she knew----”
“Don’t think so,” said the doctor as he moved Mr. Kempwood’s head and felt the back of it. . . . “Couldn’t speak English; she was frightened. When the men come back we can get someone to help us lift him in a motor. He’s going to come around all right, but that was a blow. . . . Right over the back of the head. You say he lives near here?” I nodded, and then someone came back and helped us lift Mr. Kempwood in a motor.
“What happened in there?” I asked unsteadily, as we moved toward the gate and down the steps.
“One of the guards knocked senseless,” he answered. “Over the back of the head--like this. Busy day for excitement around here--there you are. He is a weight. . . . The guard isn’t hurt badly and nothing broken, but the glass over the little case that held the bracelet is cracked.”
I nodded, feeling more sick and faint than ever, and then we turned toward home. The doctor held up Mr. Kempwood, who was beginning to groan11, and I held his cane and said my prayers hard. . . . For I felt that it was all my fault. And that is a terrible feeling. . . .
Somehow, I got through the next hour. I will never know how. . . . They settled Mr. Kempwood, told me he wasn’t going to die and would truly be all right, and I left. Of course, I went back to the Jumel Mansion. I had to.
Here I found the sort of let down that you always find after excitement. Everyone was limp and sat down whenever possible. One of the women told me about it.
“I was in the back room,” she said. “Mr. Kelsey had just come in and shown me your bracelet. He whispered to me: ‘Think I’ll put it up in the cupboard, then if she comes back for it when I’m not here, you can give it to her----’ I nodded, thinking that a safe place. . . . That high cupboard, you know.”
I did. It had always fascinated me. It seemed big enough for a spy to hide in, and I wondered whether one ever had hidden there. . . .
“He put it there,” she went on, “and then went back to the front room. I went to the window and looked out at the crowd which had collected about your friend Mr. Kempwood, and then I heard Mr. Kelsey’s cry. . . . I suppose I was slow about reaching him; you know how your knees act and how fright sometimes slows actions, for before I reached him I heard the blow which I found afterward12 had been directed at the bracelet case, and when I reached him he was not alone. . . . The old blind man who is around here so much was with him. . . . He was standing13 in the doorway14, saying, ‘Someone is hurt. . . . Someone is hurt. Will no one come to help?’ and there were tears on his cheeks. . . . It, added to all the rest, was almost the last straw.”
“I saw him in the garden before I left,” I said, “and he was all right then.”
“You couldn’t have,” she contradicted; “he was here the entire time. Someone took him off and started him toward Amsterdam Avenue, and that was ten minutes after the whole affair had quieted down.”
“But,” I said, and with some heat, “I did see him. I really did.”
“How could you,” she asked, “if he was here?”
I shook my head and gave it up. She was unconvinced, I could see. Probably thinking that the excitement had made me incapable15 of realizing what I had really seen or when I had seen it. But I had seen him in the garden. I knew that!
“Well,” I said, “that isn’t vital. You said Mr. Kelsey isn’t badly hurt?”
Again she assured me that he wasn’t, and I was greatly relieved. Then she gave me the bracelet. I snapped it on, and left. As I went out, I paused before the portrait, for it did seem as if what Madam Jumel saw from that had an effect on events; made them--rather--horrible ones.
I couldn’t speak, for there were people in the hall, but I bared my arm and thought very hard: “I have it back. If anyone must be hurt I must be the person, for it is mine, and hereafter I will keep the responsibility.” And after that--I turned toward home.
I stopped at Mr. Kempwood’s going up, and I found that he was conscious and wanted to see me. I was very glad to see him. . . . I couldn’t speak at all, but simply clung to his hand. However, he seemed to understand, so it was all right.
“Sit down, Miss Natalie Randolph Page,” he ordered, and a servant slid a chair near his bed, and I did. Then the man left, and we were alone.
“You know it was my fault,” I said, “because I gave you that bracelet.” And then I had to stop speaking. That made me dreadfully ashamed. I had to look down, too, because I didn’t want him to see that my eyes were full of tears. . . . Once I never cried! . . . But the whole affair was making me jumpy and unlike my old self. And Mr. Kempwood’s being hurt had almost made me sick.
“Look here, Nat,” he said, turning over very carefully so that he faced me, “we’re friends, aren’t we?”
I nodded, just as hard as I could, for emphasis. For various reasons, I decided16 I would not speak just then. I was afraid my voice would behave as Willy Jepson’s used to when he was fourteen. He himself never knew whether it was going to sound like Hamlet, in the soliloquy, or Miss Hooker when she saw a fuzzy caterpillar17; and those ranges differ widely.
“Well, if we’re friends,” went on Mr. Kempwood, “whatever bothers you must bother me. I want it to.”
I shook my head. “Oh no!” I said.
He nodded, then stopped (I think it hurt), and said, “Oh yes!” just the way I said “Oh no!” I laughed a little, and then I wiped my eyes. “When I thought you were dead----!” I said.
“Go on,” he ordered. “What happened? Did you mind it, or wonder whether you had enough of your allowance left for a nice wreath? Honestly, confess your thought!” All over again, I choked up. “My dear,” he said suddenly (I think he saw how I felt), “I’m not going to leave life. I love it too much. . . . Especially since we’ve been friends. Why, I’d hang on to it now, with both hands, and I’d like to see anyone make me let it go! Nat, I’m going to stick around, and by the time you’re twenty we’ll be the best friends going. . . . I’ve planned my campaign; you’re helpless.”
I smiled at him and explained how much he had helped me in New York, and how different he had made it all seem. Of course, I told him that my aunt, uncle, and cousins were kind to me (for they are), but I said once in a while I was a little lonely, and when I thought of New York without him I almost fainted. And I explained about how I had felt when I thought he was dead. Especially about the swallowing so much when there was nothing to swallow and no occasion for doing it. And I added that lots of times in the dentist’s chair when I needed to swallow, dreadfully, I couldn’t, and that it was strange how emotions affected18 you. He listened attentively19 and agreed with me about the last.
Then he asked if I had been carrying his cane around all day, and I looked and found I had! I was surprised! I must have taken it to the Jumel Mansion, back, and even up to aunt’s. I clung to it without thinking, because I was so upset, I suppose.
“No,” I answered. And I did wish I were tactful, but I never know quite what to say beside the truth, which makes me clumsy.
“And you care an awful lot about men who go in for athletics21, don’t you?” he asked. “They seem men to you?”
I think he imagined that our friendship couldn’t be as deep because I liked outdoor things and his lameness22 kept him from enjoying them. But--it was deeper; for while I knew all he missed, I also saw all he gained--from pain, or whatever it is, that makes some people, who aren’t strong in all ways, nicer.
“I like you best this way,” I said, and very awkwardly, I’m afraid, but Mr. Kempwood always seems to understand. “I’m sorry you have to carry it,” I went on, “but I think it has made you nicer and kinder. If I were ever very unhappy, or needed help, I would come to you.” And then I stood up, for I thought it was time to go.
“You can leave my cane by the bedside,” he said. “I find I don’t dislike it--quite so much as I thought. . . .” Then his voice changed and became everyday, and he said: “Good-bye, child. You’re not going to be nervous?”
I promised him I wouldn’t and waved at him from the doorway.
I went up to our floor feeling much better. Everyone was out, and I decided to dress because Evelyn was to have guests, and she had said that Amy and I might appear for a little while, if we liked. On my bureau I found a note. It was scrawled23 hurriedly as before and had the same initials under it, and it said: “Don’t wear the duplicate of my bracelet to-day. I will see that something unpleasant happens if you do!--E. J.”
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1
relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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2
royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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3
pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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4
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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6
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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7
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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8
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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9
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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10
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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11
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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12
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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13
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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14
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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15
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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16
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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17
caterpillar
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| n.毛虫，蝴蝶的幼虫 | |
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18
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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19
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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20
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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21
athletics
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| n.运动，体育，田径运动 | |
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22
lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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23
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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