Something cold and fresh blowing in her face made her turn to the door, which had been left inadvertently open, filling the house with the chill of December. Outside it was a beautiful night—the moon shining full, the stars sparkling with that keen glitter which is given by frost, the shadows of the leafless trees standing8 as if engraved9 upon the whiteness, not a breath stirring. Moonlight is always an attraction to a girl, and the outer air the best calmer of feverish10 thoughts. She caught a shawl from the stand, and wrapping it round her, went softly out. Everything was very still. Talk of the silence of the hills! The hills have sounds innumerable that can never be silenced{118}—movements of birds, of insects, of living creatures of all kinds; rustlings among the heather; tinklings of water; the air itself, occupying vast fields of space, has a breath—which means silence, but is not. But, if you like, the silence, in St. John’s Wood! That is something worth speaking of. There was not a sound. At long intervals11, when anybody moved in the world outside, you could hear the distant footstep walk out of the unknown, advance step by step as if it had been that of a messenger of doom12, diverge13, pass away again, grow fainter and fainter till it went out in the stillness like the withdrawal14 of a light. That mystic, unseen passage occurred from time to time, but faintly at a distance. Sometimes there came into the absolute stillness a distant jar of wheels, increasing and diminishing in the same manner, going out in space.
When Janet stole out, in her little thin evening shoes that made no sound, the house stood surrounded by that intense quiet and moonlight like a house in a dream. Like its own enclosure of humble15 human garden soil, that mystic atmosphere isolated16 and surrounded it from everything else in the world. It was almost an awe17 to steal round the white path, and cross the branching shadows that lay over it in all the complication of their elaborate anatomy18, and watch the dark and solid dwelling19 standing in the midst, surrounded by all that reverence20 of nature, with a touch of yellow light here and there in its windows, and such foolish evanescent fret21 and jar of feelings and thoughts within! Janet’s own little step, which was scarcely so much as the stir of a bird, struck, she felt, a half-guilty little broken note into the profound calm. The chill of the air cooled her little head. She was so small, so insignificant22 an atom in that silent world, troubled about matters so infinitesimally little, so unworthy to be breathed in the all-listening ear of night.
She had made the round of the garden, which was a long piece of ground, more than half of it grass, and of a very woodland aspect for anything so near London, and was about passing the side of the house on her way back, when Janet’s attention was suddenly roused in a very extraordinary way. The house was square, of the commonest comfortable form, but on the western side there had been built on to it, at some previous period, a wing, which projected in front, making a gable, and slightly outpassing the corps23 du logis. This wing, however, was not, so far as Janet knew, ever used at all. If used, it was as a lodging24 or workshop, whatever his employment might be, for the mysterious Vicars, who yet was not mysterious at all—the man-servant of whom more had been{119} seen since Dolff’s return home, and who, Janet had vaguely25 understood, lived in some corner of the house, carrying on his own avocations26, whatever they were, but at hand when he was wanted for any special service—a privilege given by the kindness of Mrs. Harwood to an old servant, but also a convenience to herself. It was after Janet had seen this personage carrying through an open door, which had all the appearance at other times of being hermetically closed, a tray covered with dainties, that Mrs. Harwood herself had explained the position of Vicars to the governess, thus settling the question.
Nothing could possibly be more uninhabited, more shut-up and empty, than the wing. It had two long windows on the upper floor, facing the garden, which were so grown over with ivy27 that it was clearly apparent no light could enter, or human uses be served by them. The ivy was carefully trained, and perhaps a little thinner than usual at this time of the year. As Janet came opposite the windows, something—she could not tell what—made her look up. The moonlight was streaming full upon them, showing white crevices28 and reflections in the half-covered window-panes30 which never showed by day. She stopped short, struck by an alarm and horror which seemed to freeze the blood in her veins31. At the nearest window, in an opening made by the curvature of a great ivy branch half denuded32 of leaves, there appeared to her the face of an old man with white hair and a long, white beard—a white image so like the moonlight that, after the first dreadful realization33 of what she saw as a face, Janet, in her terror, tried to persuade herself that it was only some effect of the white light shining upon the panes, which were covered by dust and the droppings of the heavy foliage34. If she had hurried away then, flying indoors, as was her first impulse, no doubt she would have been able to persuade herself that this was the case. But she was, on the other hand, too much frightened, too much excited, to fly. She stood still, scarcely able to draw her breath.
A pale, very pale face, with a long, white beard—patriarchal, like the beard of a prophet—white hair, deep-sunken, aged35 eyes, looking up towards the moon. A sort of frenzy36 of terror caught hold upon Janet, so that she could not move. Who was it? Who was it? Vague recollections flew across her mind of things she had read—of an old, blind, mad king whom she remembered in her history—of—she knew not what. The thoughts thronged37 over her mind like clouds o’er the sky, and she could take no count of them. For there could be no king, no martyr38, no prison, no madhouse here. Who{120} was it? Who was it? In a house in St. John’s Wood, the most respectable, the most perfectly39 well-known and well-established, in the midst of the quiet, within the tranquil40 garden, surrounded by all the decorums of society. Who—oh, who could it be?
She stood transfixed, not thinking that she herself in the midst of that white light, a little dark figure, all surrounded and isolated by the brightness, was more clearly distinguishable than anything about her, and, indeed, could scarcely fail to catch the eye of any one that might be looking. Janet did not think of this, her whole mind being occupied with her extraordinary discovery. She was afraid of being seen. She never realized the possibility—until suddenly, all in a moment as she stood and gazed, her whole bewildered being lost in wonder and amaze, she discovered, with a second shock even more potent41 than the first, that the face in the window had changed its direction and turned towards herself. Whether it was that Janet was too terrified to have the strength to fly, or whether that she was not so terrified as she thought, and more eager, more curious than she was frightened, it is certain that, though she shrank back a step upon herself, she did not run away, but stood there gazing with her heart in her mouth, and the sensation tingling42 through and through her that not only did she see this extraordinary being, a real person, whoever he was, but that he saw her. The head, with its white hair, turned slowly from contemplating43 the sky to contemplating her. He began to make signs to her, beckoning44, bending forward, till the crown of white hair was pressed against the pane29, and seemed to sparkle and reflect, as if those patriarchal locks had been spun45 glass, the hard white blaze of the moon. Janet felt as if she could neither move nor breathe. It was real—it was not a dream—it was a man shut up there, who saw her, made signs, called for her help—an old man—a man in trouble. Her head seemed to go round, though her feet were planted on the path as if they had grown to it, or frozen there. What was she to do? What could she do?
At this moment there came from within, from the room whence there stole a ray or two of yellow lamp-light out into the whiteness of the moon, the sound of music—a few notes—tremulous notes—with which she was very familiar; and then rising together the two voices, also so familiar, every tone of which she could have anticipated. The sound made a diversion in her thoughts. She turned her head for a minute that way with a thrill of sensation, wondering if they could but see what she saw—if they only knew! It was so strange to realize,{121} as she did, with a sudden flash of consciousness, the tranquil room, the mother in her chair with her mild face full of gratification and reflected pleasure turned towards the pair at the piano in perfect composure and ease—the two singers busy with their music, with themselves, thinking of nothing else. She took her eyes from the window in her startled realization of all this, and turned her head for a moment in the direction of those unconscious people, who did not know—— In that moment, while her eyes were averted46, the air was suddenly rent, torn asunder47, cleft48 by the same wild, unnatural49, and awful cry which Janet had twice heard before. Her feet, which had seemed growing to the path, were loosened with a spring, and Janet too uttered a scream which she could not restrain. Where was it? Though she was wild with terror, she had yet sense enough left to see that the figure at the window had altered its position, and that it was from thence that the sound came. But her strength was equal to no more. She fled, forgetting all precautions, her feet flying over the hard path to the open door. She was dimly aware that the music had wavered, half stopped, and then gone on again, Gussy’s voice coming out loudly upon the night. After that Janet knew no more. She burst into the house, and stood panting in the hall, recovering her breath, not knowing what to do.
What was she to do? She stood leaning against the wall inside, safe from pursuit. And it was not till some time later that it occurred to her that, instead of being safe from pursuit, she was within the very walls of the house which inclosed the mystery, and that the prisoner, the maniac50, whoever he was, the pale old man with the white hair, was an inmate51 of the same dwelling, and therefore she was within his reach far more easily than she had been outside. But this in her panic she did not think of. For the moment she felt securely sheltered, and stood gasping52, recovering her breath, asking herself what she should do. They were singing in the drawing-room, singing as if all was right, as if nothing could ever be wrong. Had they not heard it? Did they not care? They had not seen as she had, but how could they remain unconscious after that cry? Should she walk in and tell them—tell them? What should she tell them? That there was some one shut up in the wing—an old man with white hair, with his pallid53 face pressed against the window between the branches of the ivy? How could she go and tell them this? “Mrs. Harwood, there is a man—an old man—at the window—in the wing——” Was that what she should say? Some door might have been open and some madman got in. But then it was not{122} the first time she had heard that cry. He must have been there for some time—he must have been there before she herself came. Perhaps—perhaps—how could she tell?—perhaps Mrs. Harwood already knew—perhaps—— Janet panted and gasped54, but after a time got back her breath. But still she stood there thinking, wondering over her problem. What was she to do? Was it, perhaps, her part to do nothing—to ignore this sight she had seen—to try to forget it? Was it none of her business to interfere55? Was it her duty to tell at once her appalling56 discovery? What was she to do?
In the meantime she had not closed the door, which still stood open, letting in the cold air of the night; and presently, while she still stood trembling, steps approached from the servants’ quarters. It was Vicars who made his appearance, and Janet almost had a new shock of terror as the man to whom she had never spoken before came up and looked at her severely57 with suspicious eyes. He asked, in a tone as severe as his look,
“Was it you, miss, as left the hall door open, to give everybody their death?”
“If a person finds a door open of a cold night it’s their part, if they’ve any sense, to shut it,” said Vicars. He never removed his look from her, fixing her with the eyes of a judge. “May I ask, miss, if it’s your custom to go ranging about the grounds at this hour of the night?”
“Oh, no,” said Janet, “it was only an accident. I never did it before.”
“I am only a servant,” said Vicars, “but if I was the master I wouldn’t hold with folks going round and round of my house in the middle of the night looking things up.”
“I have not been looking anything up,” said Janet, indignantly. She stood by while he closed the door; but when he turned to go away, made a step after him timidly. “Oh!” she said, “if you would only let me speak to you for a moment. Mr. Vicars, you said you were a servant——”
“Did you take me for the master, miss?” he said, with a low laugh.
“Oh!” said Janet, “if you would but tell me. Who is the old gentleman at the window with the white hair? And why does he cry so? I will never, never say a word if you will but tell me. I am so frightened, I don’t know what to do.”
“There is no gentleman at the window—and he don’t cry,” said Vicars, fixing her once more with keen eyes.
“But I saw him—and I’ve heard him, oh! three times. Mr. Vicars, tell me, for goodness’ sake, does Mrs. Harwood know?{123}”
“You’d best go and tell her, and see what she’ll say. You’ll not stop another night in this house if you bother the missus with what you hear and see. You may take my word for it, Miss Peep and Pry59.”
“You are very impertinent,” said Janet, indignantly, “and I do not care in the least whether I stop here another night or not. Does Mrs. Harwood know?”
“I’d advise you, miss, not to offer her no information,” said Vicars, “about things as happen in her own house;” and with this he turned his back on Janet, and went deliberately60 away.
Should she go and tell Mrs. Harwood what she had seen? She turned towards the drawing-room door, which was so close at hand; but she paused again before she had opened it. Had Vicars remained there she would certainly have done it; but as he was gone, and as there was nobody to see, Janet hesitated, pondered—and, finally, though with a beating heart, and every nerve in her body thrilling, went away in the other direction, and very softly and slowly, hesitating at every second step, retired61 upstairs.
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1
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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2
suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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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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savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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7
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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8
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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9
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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10
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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11
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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12
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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13
diverge
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| v.分叉，分歧，离题，使...岔开，使转向 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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15
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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18
anatomy
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| n.解剖学，解剖；功能，结构，组织 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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21
fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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22
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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23
corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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24
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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avocations
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| n.业余爱好，嗜好( avocation的名词复数 )；职业 | |
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27
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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28
crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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29
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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31
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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32
denuded
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| adj.[医]变光的，裸露的v.使赤裸( denude的过去式和过去分词 )；剥光覆盖物 | |
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33
realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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34
foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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35
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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37
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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40
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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41
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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42
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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43
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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44
beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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45
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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46
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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47
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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48
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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49
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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50
maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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51
inmate
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| n.被收容者；(房屋等的)居住人；住院人 | |
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52
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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53
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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54
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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55
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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56
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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57
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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58
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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59
pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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60
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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61
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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