“I been a long time, sir,” he explained, “but you know what that there Ted2 Barnes is. Slow to talk and wanting a power of persuading. But I got the address from ’im: ’ere it is, wrote on this paper.”
He handed Jim a slip of paper, upon which the address of a Kensington hotel was written. He was grinning triumphantly3, as though he had performed some great service for his friend.
“Good lad,” said Jim. “That’s very smart of you. I say, Smiley: I’ve had the deuce of a time while you were in the village. I met my wife!”
The poacher smiled from ear to ear. “O Lordee!” he chuckled4. “I reckon that ’ud give her a bit of a turn, like.”
Jim told him something of what had occurred, but Smiley’s attitude of frank amusement caused him to cut the story short; and it was not long before he brought the interview to an end.
As they shook hands at the edge of the wood, Smiley suddenly paused and raised his finger. “Did you hear anything?” he asked.
“No,” said Jim, after listening for a few moments.
[241]
“Thought I heard a step,” the poacher went on. “There’s a heap o’ tramps about these days. I seen ’em in the woods sometimes, but I don’t allow no one to poach there except me....”
He was in a loquacious5 mood, and Jim found it necessary to make a resolute6 interruption of the flow of his words by shaking him warmly by the hand once more and setting off down the dark lane in the direction of Oxford7.
He reached London, somewhat dazed, in time for dinner, and by nine o’clock he was driving out to Kensington to pay a visit to Mrs. Darling. Now that Dolly knew that he was alive, it would be as well for him to enlist8 the services of her mother as soon as possible. He could, perhaps, make it worth her while to aid him in regard to the divorce.
Upon arriving at the small private hotel where she was staying he was shown into an unoccupied sitting-room9.
“What name, sir?” asked the page.
“Mr. Tundering-West,” said Jim, apprehensive10 of the jolt11 the announcement would cause, but feeling that since a shock could not be avoided, it would be better for her to receive it before she entered the room.
He had not long to wait: after a few minutes of uncomfortable fiddling12 with his hat, Mrs. Darling suddenly bounced in, as though she had been kicked from behind. Then, with astonished eyes fixed13 on Jim, she shut the door and stood staring at him in complete silence.
[242]
“Good gracious!” she gasped15. “Jim! You—you—you lunatic! What on earth are you doing in the land of the living? You’re supposed to be dead and buried.”
“No, not buried,” he corrected her. “I was knifed, you remember, and dropped into the sea.”
“Something like that,” he laughed. “Anyway, here I am; and I’ve come to you to ask what I’m to do next. I’ve just had a talk with Dolly.”
Mrs. Darling threw up her hands, and therewith she set about his cross-examination, asking him a number of questions in regard to his life, and receiving a number of evasive replies. “My good man,” she said at length, “do you realize that Dolly is an established widow, on the look out, in fact, for another husband? Do you realize that we’ve had a solemn memorial service for you, and put a tablet up in the church?”
“Yes, I’ve seen it,” he answered. “It made me blush for shame.”
“I’m very glad to hear it,” she said. “You may well be ashamed that you have fallen so far short of the virtues18 attributed to you. I always think it is such a wonderful thing in nature that the only creatures who can blush are the only creatures who have occasion to.”
Considering that it was her daughter’s future which was at stake, Mrs. Darling seemed to Jim to be treating matters very lightly.
“Do you realize,” she went on, her voice rising, “that your will has been read, and Dolly owns every[243] penny you had, and gives me three hundred pounds a year allowance?”
“Only three hundred?” he remarked. “That’s mean. I’ll give you four.”
“It’s not yours to give,” she answered. “You’re dead—dead as mutton. You can’t play fast and loose with death like that, you know. When you’re murdered, you’re murdered, and there’s an end of it. It would make things absolutely impossible if people could go popping in and out of their graves like you are doing. Surely you can see that. What did Dolly say?”
“Oh, she was very upset,” he told her. “She stormed at me and called me every name under the sun; said she had always hated me; told me she was going to marry George Merrivall.”
“Well, what else did you expect? She says you ill-treated her horribly.”
“That’s a lie,” said Jim, sharply.
“Yes, so I told her,” Mrs. Darling replied. “I know you. You’re perfectly19 mad, but I always felt you were very decent to Dolly, considering what a little fraud she is.”
“Anyhow, I don’t mind her saying I ill-treated her,” he added, “if that’s any use for the purpose of our divorce.”
“Divorce?” cried Mrs. Darling. “Do you want her to divorce you? What for?”
“So that I can be quit of her, and marry again if I find the right woman.”
Mrs. Darling held up her hands. “What sublime20 courage! But you mustn’t let marriage become a habit, for the divorce courts are very slow, you know.[244] I have a woman friend who is already three marriages ahead of her divorces. I should have thought that a man like you, who is something of a philosopher and thinker, would now shun21 marriage like the plague. But I suppose even the cleverest men.... There is the famous case of Socrates, who died of an overdose of wedlock22.”
“Hemlock,” he corrected her.
“Ah, yes, to be sure. Perhaps it is simply your youth: you still look very young, in spite of your recent death. I remember, in the days before my bright future had resolved itself into a shady past, I, too, was an optimist23 about marriage. But I was soon cured. So long as he liked me, my husband was so terribly jealous of me. It was quite intolerable. He would not even let my eyes wander from him. Why, I remember once turning my head away from him for a moment because I had hiccups24, and being instantly cured by his seizing my throat in a consequent fit of passion.... Were you ever jealous of Dolly?”
“No,” said Jim; “and this afternoon I saw her making love to George Merrivall without any feeling except annoyance25 with myself for ever having believed in her.”
“Poor Dolly,” sighed her mother. “I am devoted26 to her, as you know; but I do realize her faults, and I know what you had to put up with.”
For some time they discussed the possibilities of divorce, and Mrs. Darling was frankly27 business-like in regard to the financial side of the affair.
“Of course,” she said, “it is very hard to do business with you, my dear Jim, because you are an[245] honest man. I prefer dealing28 with crooks29. It is so simple, because you always know that at some stage of the game they are going to try to trip you up. But with honest men, you never know what they’ll do next.”
The upshot of their conversation was an understanding that Mrs. Darling should go down next day to Eversfield and win her daughter over to the idea of divorce; and, this being arranged, he rose to go.
“Good-bye,” he said, warmly shaking her hand. “I can’t begin to thank you for your kindness, and generosity30 of mind.”
“Oh, nonsense!” she laughed. “I’m just a scheming old woman, Jim. As I’ve often told you, I’d sell my soul for an income; and in this case it is obvious that, since you are alive, you hold the family purse-strings31. That’s why I am nice to you.”
“I don’t believe it,” he answered.
“Well, anyway,” she said, “I wish you well, dead or alive. Good-bye, my dear. May you be with the rich in this world and with the poor in the world to come.”
Jim arrived back at his hotel in a somewhat happier frame of mind, and went at once to his bedroom, tired after the adventures of the day. When he was in bed, however, he found that sleep had deserted32 him; and for some time he lay on his back, vainly endeavouring to quell33 the turbulence34 of the mob of his thoughts. The figure of Dolly kept presenting itself to his mind, and his inward ears heard her voice continuously railing at him and reproaching him.
[246]
Her pretty, silly little face seemed to push in upon his thoughts of Monimé; and suddenly he sat up, scared by the vividness of the impression, and wondering whether it were some sort of portent35 of coming calamity36 in regard to the new life for which he hoped so passionately37. He switched on the light, and, kicking off the bedclothes, went across to the washstand and poured himself out a dose of whisky from his flask38. The radiator39 was too hot, and the room felt stuffy40; but, throwing open the window, a blast of cold air and wet sleet41 searched him to the skin, and obliged him to shut it again.
“Oh, what a God-forsaken country!” he muttered; and therewith fetched his guitar from its case, and sitting cross-legged upon the bed in his pyjamas42, began twanging the strings and singing old songs in a minor43 key which sounded like dirges44 for the dead. The music soothed45 him, and soon he was pouring his whole heart into the melodies, oblivious46 to all around him. They were songs of love now, and as he sang his thoughts went out over the seas to Cairo where Monimé at this moment was probably lying asleep in her bed, her black hair spread upon the pillow.
There was a sharp knock upon the door. “Come in,” he called out, pausing in his song, but remaining seated upon the bed, with his fingers upon the strings of his guitar.
A red-faced, grey-moustached man of military appearance stumped47 into the room, clad in a brown dressing-gown. “Confound you, sir!” he roared. “If you don’t put that damned banjo away and go to bed, I’ll ring for the manager.”
[247]
“What’s it to do with you?” Jim asked, twanging the strings dreamily.
“It’s disturbing the whole hotel,” he answered. “Nobody can get a wink48 of sleep with that blasted noise going on. Damn it, sir!—have you no sense of duty to your neighbour?”
The question hit home: once again he had been proved wanting in consideration. “I’m most awfully49 sorry,” he said, with genuine contrition50. “I’d clean forgotten I was in a hotel. Please forgive me. Have a whisky and soda51? Have a cigar?”
His visitor did not deign52 to reply. He stared at Jim with hot, scowling53 eyes, and then, making a contemptuous gesture, left the room again, slamming the door after him.
“Well, that’s that,” Jim muttered, thereafter returning to bed, annoyed with himself and distressed54 that he should have caused annoyance to others. “What a swine I am,” he thought.
Matthew Arnold’s lines:—
Weary of myself, and sick of asking
What I am, and what I ought to be....
came into his brain, and gloomily he repeated them half aloud. Would Monimé marry him? Or would she, too, find him impossible? What a mess he had made of his life! Perhaps Dolly had been justified55 in her dislike of him.
With such thoughts as these he at last fell off to sleep.
Next morning, after breakfast, he picked up a newspaper in the smoking-room, and for some minutes read the foreign news without much interest.[248] Then suddenly a set of headlines caught his attention, and caused him to sit up, aghast, in his chair. The printed words swayed before his eyes as he read the appalling56 news.
“Last night,” the story began, “the body of Mrs. Dorothy Tundering-West, widow of the late James Tundering-West, of the Manor57, Eversfield, near Oxford, was found in a wood adjoining the grounds of the Manor. The back of the skull58 was smashed in, probably by a blow from a large stone which was found near by with bloodstains upon it. Mrs. West had been missing since four o’clock in the afternoon, and medical evidence indicates that death must have occurred at about that hour....”
With desperate haste his eyes travelled down the column. There was no doubt that she had been murdered, said the report, but the thick carpeting of damp leaves upon the ground had retained no impression of the offender’s footprints. She was lying on her face, and a second wound upon her forehead was probably caused by her fall. The motive59 was not apparent, for there had been no robbery, and there were no signs of a struggle.
The police, he read, attached some significance to the presence of a man of foreign appearance who was seen in the early afternoon picking berries from a hedge in the neighbourhood. In this connection it was recalled that Mr. Tundering-West had died by the hand of an assassin in Italy only a few months ago, and it was possible that the two crimes were both the outcome of some secret vendetta60. What had induced the unfortunate lady to go into[249] the woods was a mystery, and perhaps indicated that she had been lured61 to her doom62.
Jim’s first emotions were those of extreme horror at the crime, and pity for Dolly. The manner of her death appalled63 him; and though he was not conscious of any binding64 relationship to her, the catastrophe65 of her murder swept across his being like a fierce wind, as it were, uprooting66 the plantations67 of his overstocked brain, or like a breaking wave thundering on to the shingle68 of his multitudinous thoughts.
It was fortunate that he was alone in the smoking-room, for his agitation69 was such that his exclamations70 were uttered audibly, and soon he was pacing the floor, the newspaper crumpled71 in his hand. It seemed to be his fate that the crises of his life should be announced to him through the columns of the daily Press. In this manner he had read of his inheritance, of his supposed murder at Pisa, and now of the death of his wife. It was as though roguish powers had selected him as a victim on whom thus to spring surprises.
Who could have committed the crime? The thought of Smiley-face came immediately to his mind, but was as quickly dismissed again. The poacher, he knew, had been busy in the village getting Mrs. Darling’s address from the postman; and, moreover, his behaviour when they had met again clearly proclaimed his innocence72. Possibly some tramp had been lurking73 in the woods, as Smiley had suspected, and Dolly had been assaulted by him as she ran from Jim. He remembered now with awe17 the sudden silence which had followed[250] her loud flight through the crackling undergrowth.
The wretched Merrivall, he realized, would have to keep his movements well hidden; for if it were known that he had been in the woods with Dolly he would most assuredly be suspected, motive or no motive. If anybody had seen him running across the manor garden on his way to the forgotten whist-drive it would go hard with him.
Suddenly, following this thought, came the awful realization74 of his own peril75. He, Jim, was the last man to see her alive; and in his own case a motive would not be lacking. Smiley-face would be certain to suspect him, and by some mistake might give the secret away.
And then—Mrs. Darling! She knew he had seen Dolly in the woods, she knew they had quarrelled violently! Of course, she would accuse him! The thought blared at him like a discordant76 trumpet77, proclaiming his guilt78 to the world, while his heart drummed a wild accompaniment.
In bewilderment he ran blindly up the stairs to his bedroom and locked the door behind him.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
touching
|
|
| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
ted
|
|
| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
triumphantly
|
|
| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
chuckled
|
|
| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
loquacious
|
|
| adj.多嘴的，饶舌的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
resolute
|
|
| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
Oxford
|
|
| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
enlist
|
|
| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
apprehensive
|
|
| adj.担心的，恐惧的，善于领会的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
jolt
|
|
| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
fiddling
|
|
| 微小的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
awed
|
|
| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
virtues
|
|
| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
sublime
|
|
| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
shun
|
|
| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
wedlock
|
|
| n.婚姻，已婚状态 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
optimist
|
|
| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
hiccups
|
|
| n.嗝( hiccup的名词复数 )；连续地打嗝；暂时性的小问题；短暂的停顿v.嗝( hiccup的第三人称单数 )；连续地打嗝；暂时性的小问题；短暂的停顿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
annoyance
|
|
| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
devoted
|
|
| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
crooks
|
|
| n.骗子( crook的名词复数 )；罪犯；弯曲部分；（牧羊人或主教用的）弯拐杖v.弯成钩形( crook的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
generosity
|
|
| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
strings
|
|
| n.弦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
quell
|
|
| v.压制，平息，减轻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
turbulence
|
|
| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
portent
|
|
| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
calamity
|
|
| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
flask
|
|
| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
radiator
|
|
| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
stuffy
|
|
| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
sleet
|
|
| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
pyjamas
|
|
| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
minor
|
|
| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
dirges
|
|
| n.挽歌( dirge的名词复数 )；忧伤的歌，哀歌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
soothed
|
|
| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
oblivious
|
|
| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
stumped
|
|
| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
wink
|
|
| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
contrition
|
|
| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
soda
|
|
| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
deign
|
|
| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
scowling
|
|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
distressed
|
|
| 痛苦的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
justified
|
|
| a.正当的，有理的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
manor
|
|
| n.庄园，领地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
skull
|
|
| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
vendetta
|
|
| n.世仇，宿怨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
lured
|
|
| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
doom
|
|
| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
appalled
|
|
| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
binding
|
|
| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
catastrophe
|
|
| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
uprooting
|
|
| n.倒根，挖除伐根v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的现在分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
plantations
|
|
| n.种植园，大农场( plantation的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
shingle
|
|
| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
agitation
|
|
| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
exclamations
|
|
| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
crumpled
|
|
| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
innocence
|
|
| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
lurking
|
|
| 潜在 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
realization
|
|
| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
peril
|
|
| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
discordant
|
|
| adj.不调和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
trumpet
|
|
| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |