Creeping from the house, and slinking off like a thief; groping with his hands, when first he got into the street, as if he were a blind man; and looking often over his shoulder while he hurried away, as though he were followed in imagination or reality by someone anxious to question or detain him; Ralph Nickleby left the city behind him, and took the road to his own home.
The night was dark, and a cold wind blew, driving the clouds, furiously and fast, before it. There was one black, gloomy mass that seemed to follow him: not hurrying in the wild chase with the others, but lingering sullenly1 behind, and gliding2 darkly and stealthily on. He often looked back at this, and, more than once, stopped to let it pass over; but, somehow, when he went forward again, it was still behind him, coming mournfully and slowly up, like a shadowy funeral train.
He had to pass a poor, mean burial-ground—a dismal4 place, raised a few feet above the level of the street, and parted from it by a low parapet-wall and an iron railing; a rank, unwholesome, rotten spot, where the very grass and weeds seemed, in their frouzy growth, to tell that they had sprung from paupers’ bodies, and had struck their roots in the graves of men, sodden5, while alive, in steaming courts and drunken hungry dens6. And here, in truth, they lay, parted from the living by a little earth and a board or two—lay thick and close—corrupting in body as they had in mind—a dense7 and squalid crowd. Here they lay, cheek by jowl with life: no deeper down than the feet of the throng8 that passed there every day, and piled high as their throats. Here they lay, a grisly family, all these dear departed brothers and sisters of the ruddy clergyman who did his task so speedily when they were hidden in the ground!
As he passed here, Ralph called to mind that he had been one of a jury, long before, on the body of a man who had cut his throat; and that he was buried in this place. He could not tell how he came to recollect9 it now, when he had so often passed and never thought about him, or how it was that he felt an interest in the circumstance; but he did both; and stopping, and clasping the iron railings with his hands, looked eagerly in, wondering which might be his grave.
While he was thus engaged, there came towards him, with noise of shouts and singing, some fellows full of drink, followed by others, who were remonstrating10 with them and urging them to go home in quiet. They were in high good-humour; and one of them, a little, weazen, hump-backed man, began to dance. He was a grotesque11, fantastic figure, and the few bystanders laughed. Ralph himself was moved to mirth, and echoed the laugh of one who stood near and who looked round in his face. When they had passed on, and he was left alone again, he resumed his speculation12 with a new kind of interest; for he recollected13 that the last person who had seen the suicide alive, had left him very merry, and he remembered how strange he and the other jurors had thought that at the time.
He could not fix upon the spot among such a heap of graves, but he conjured14 up a strong and vivid idea of the man himself, and how he looked, and what had led him to do it; all of which he recalled with ease. By dint15 of dwelling16 upon this theme, he carried the impression with him when he went away; as he remembered, when a child, to have had frequently before him the figure of some goblin he had once seen chalked upon a door. But as he drew nearer and nearer home he forgot it again, and began to think how very dull and solitary17 the house would be inside.
This feeling became so strong at last, that when he reached his own door, he could hardly make up his mind to turn the key and open it. When he had done that, and gone into the passage, he felt as though to shut it again would be to shut out the world. But he let it go, and it closed with a loud noise. There was no light. How very dreary18, cold, and still it was!
Shivering from head to foot, he made his way upstairs into the room where he had been last disturbed. He had made a kind of compact with himself that he would not think of what had happened until he got home. He was at home now, and suffered himself to consider it.
His own child, his own child! He never doubted the tale; he felt it was true; knew it as well, now, as if he had been privy19 to it all along. His own child! And dead too. Dying beside Nicholas, loving him, and looking upon him as something like an angel. That was the worst!
They had all turned from him and deserted20 him in his very first need. Even money could not buy them now; everything must come out, and everybody must know all. Here was the young lord dead, his companion abroad and beyond his reach, ten thousand pounds gone at one blow, his plot with Gride overset at the very moment of triumph, his after-schemes discovered, himself in danger, the object of his persecution21 and Nicholas’s love, his own wretched boy; everything crumbled23 and fallen upon him, and he beaten down beneath the ruins and grovelling24 in the dust.
If he had known his child to be alive; if no deceit had been ever practised, and he had grown up beneath his eye; he might have been a careless, indifferent, rough, harsh father—like enough—he felt that; but the thought would come that he might have been otherwise, and that his son might have been a comfort to him, and they two happy together. He began to think now, that his supposed death and his wife’s flight had had some share in making him the morose25, hard man he was. He seemed to remember a time when he was not quite so rough and obdurate26; and almost thought that he had first hated Nicholas because he was young and gallant27, and perhaps like the stripling who had brought dishonour29 and loss of fortune on his head.
But one tender thought, or one of natural regret, in his whirlwind of passion and remorse30, was as a drop of calm water in a stormy maddened sea. His hatred31 of Nicholas had been fed upon his own defeat, nourished on his interference with his schemes, fattened32 upon his old defiance33 and success. There were reasons for its increase; it had grown and strengthened gradually. Now it attained34 a height which was sheer wild lunacy. That his, of all others, should have been the hands to rescue his miserable35 child; that he should have been his protector and faithful friend; that he should have shown him that love and tenderness which, from the wretched moment of his birth, he had never known; that he should have taught him to hate his own parent and execrate36 his very name; that he should now know and feel all this, and triumph in the recollection; was gall28 and madness to the usurer’s heart. The dead boy’s love for Nicholas, and the attachment37 of Nicholas to him, was insupportable agony. The picture of his deathbed, with Nicholas at his side, tending and supporting him, and he breathing out his thanks, and expiring in his arms, when he would have had them mortal enemies and hating each other to the last, drove him frantic38. He gnashed his teeth and smote39 the air, and looking wildly round, with eyes which gleamed through the darkness, cried aloud:
‘I am trampled40 down and ruined. The wretch22 told me true. The night has come! Is there no way to rob them of further triumph, and spurn41 their mercy and compassion42? Is there no devil to help me?’
Swiftly, there glided43 again into his brain the figure he had raised that night. It seemed to lie before him. The head was covered now. So it was when he first saw it. The rigid44, upturned, marble feet too, he remembered well. Then came before him the pale and trembling relatives who had told their tale upon the inquest—the shrieks45 of women—the silent dread46 of men—the consternation47 and disquiet—the victory achieved by that heap of clay, which, with one motion of its hand, had let out the life and made this stir among them—
He spoke48 no more; but, after a pause, softly groped his way out of the room, and up the echoing stairs—up to the top—to the front garret—where he closed the door behind him, and remained.
It was a mere49 lumber50-room now, but it yet contained an old dismantled51 bedstead; the one on which his son had slept; for no other had ever been there. He avoided it hastily, and sat down as far from it as he could.
The weakened glare of the lights in the street below, shining through the window which had no blind or curtain to intercept52 it, was enough to show the character of the room, though not sufficient fully3 to reveal the various articles of lumber, old corded trunks and broken furniture, which were scattered53 about. It had a shelving roof; high in one part, and at another descending54 almost to the floor. It was towards the highest part that Ralph directed his eyes; and upon it he kept them fixed55 steadily56 for some minutes, when he rose, and dragging thither57 an old chest upon which he had been seated, mounted on it, and felt along the wall above his head with both hands. At length, they touched a large iron hook, firmly driven into one of the beams.
At that moment, he was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door below. After a little hesitation58 he opened the window, and demanded who it was.
‘I want Mr. Nickleby,’ replied a voice.
‘What with him?’
‘That’s not Mr. Nickleby’s voice, surely?’ was the rejoinder.
It was not like it; but it was Ralph who spoke, and so he said.
The voice made answer that the twin brothers wished to know whether the man whom he had seen that night was to be detained; and that although it was now midnight they had sent, in their anxiety to do right.
‘Yes,’ cried Ralph, ‘detain him till tomorrow; then let them bring him here—him and my nephew—and come themselves, and be sure that I will be ready to receive them.’
‘At what hour?’ asked the voice.
‘At any hour,’ replied Ralph fiercely. ‘In the afternoon, tell them. At any hour, at any minute. All times will be alike to me.’
He listened to the man’s retreating footsteps until the sound had passed, and then, gazing up into the sky, saw, or thought he saw, the same black cloud that had seemed to follow him home, and which now appeared to hover59 directly above the house.
‘I know its meaning now,’ he muttered, ‘and the restless nights, the dreams, and why I have quailed60 of late. All pointed61 to this. Oh! if men by selling their own souls could ride rampant62 for a term, for how short a term would I barter63 mine tonight!’
The sound of a deep bell came along the wind. One.
‘Lie on!’ cried the usurer, ‘with your iron tongue! Ring merrily for births that make expectants writhe64, and marriages that are made in hell, and toll65 ruefully for the dead whose shoes are worn already! Call men to prayers who are godly because not found out, and ring chimes for the coming in of every year that brings this cursed world nearer to its end. No bell or book for me! Throw me on a dunghill, and let me rot there, to infect the air!’
With a wild look around, in which frenzy66, hatred, and despair were horribly mingled67, he shook his clenched68 hand at the sky above him, which was still dark and threatening, and closed the window.
The rain and hail pattered against the glass; the chimneys quaked and rocked; the crazy casement69 rattled70 with the wind, as though an impatient hand inside were striving to burst it open. But no hand was there, and it opened no more.
‘How’s this?’ cried one. ‘The gentleman say they can’t make anybody hear, and have been trying these two hours.’
‘And yet he came home last night,’ said another; ‘for he spoke to somebody out of that window upstairs.’
They were a little knot of men, and, the window being mentioned, went out into the road to look up at it. This occasioned their observing that the house was still close shut, as the housekeeper71 had said she had left it on the previous night, and led to a great many suggestions: which terminated in two or three of the boldest getting round to the back, and so entering by a window, while the others remained outside, in impatient expectation.
They looked into all the rooms below: opening the shutters72 as they went, to admit the fading light: and still finding nobody, and everything quiet and in its place, doubted whether they should go farther. One man, however, remarking that they had not yet been into the garret, and that it was there he had been last seen, they agreed to look there too, and went up softly; for the mystery and silence made them timid.
After they had stood for an instant, on the landing, eyeing each other, he who had proposed their carrying the search so far, turned the handle of the door, and, pushing it open, looked through the chink, and fell back directly.
‘It’s very odd,’ he whispered, ‘he’s hiding behind the door! Look!’
They pressed forward to see; but one among them thrusting the others aside with a loud exclamation73, drew a clasp-knife from his pocket, and dashing into the room, cut down the body.
He had torn a rope from one of the old trunks, and hung himself on an iron hook immediately below the trap-door in the ceiling—in the very place to which the eyes of his son, a lonely, desolate74, little creature, had so often been directed in childish terror, fourteen years before.
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收听单词发音
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1
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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dens
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| n.牙齿，齿状部分；兽窝( den的名词复数 )；窝点；休息室；书斋 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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9
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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remonstrating
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| v.抗议( remonstrate的现在分词 )；告诫 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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13
recollected
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| adj.冷静的；镇定的；被回忆起的；沉思默想的v.记起，想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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15
dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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privy
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| adj.私用的；隐密的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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24
grovelling
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| adj.卑下的，奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 )；趴 | |
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morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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gall
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| v.使烦恼，使焦躁，难堪；n.磨难 | |
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29
dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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fattened
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| v.喂肥( fatten的过去式和过去分词 )；养肥（牲畜）；使（钱）增多；使（公司）升值 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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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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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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execrate
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| v.憎恶；厌恶；诅咒 | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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39
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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40
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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41
spurn
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| v.拒绝，摈弃；n.轻视的拒绝；踢开 | |
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42
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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43
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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44
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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45
shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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46
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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47
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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48
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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49
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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50
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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51
dismantled
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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52
intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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53
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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54
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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55
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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barter
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| n.物物交换，以货易货，实物交易 | |
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writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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67
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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73
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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74
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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