Not so the forces of Nature, so often destructive of the schemes of pigmy man!
An appalling2 convulsion altogether exceeding anything heard or dreamt of since the beginning of time, totally destroyed the Popocatapetelian landscape in the small hours of that same morning; and as, a thousand miles to the north, the Louis XV. Rosewood Express de Luxe rolled in a terrific manner upon its insufficient3 rock ballast, the subterranean4 river, the perennial5 fires and the unscrupulously erected6 edifice7 of the great dam, shot aloft in a vast confusion and were replaced by a chasm8 some quarter of a mile in breadth and of a depth unfathomable to mortal plummets9. It was March; March 1915. In Iowa in March it snows. The locomotive and two of the cars attached to[30] the Louis XV. Rosewood Express de Luxe were buried a little beyond Blucher in a drift of snow the height and dimensions of which exceeded the experience of the oldest settler in that charming prairie town. The same storm which had caused the misadventure had broken the wires for many miles around.
Ole Man Benson awoke, therefore, to a scene of great discomfort10, but upon such a date and with a prospect11 of so considerable an increase of fortune awaiting him upon that very day, he was the gayest of the company, and in spite of his years he shovelled12 away with the best of them, a-splendid-type-of-Anglo-Saxon-manhood.
By one o’clock that noon the telegraph at last was working, and the first messages came through to the little depot; they concerned a riot in a local home for paralytics. Next, before two, news was conveyed of an outbreak of religious mania13 in the town of Omaha. It was not till a late hour in the evening that Ole Man Benson, waiting anxiously for the report of the great speech, heard the earliest tidings of the practical joke which Providence—in spite of Gen. Porfirio Diaz’ equable and masterly rule—had played him in the distant tropics.
The same rapidity of thought which had enabled Theocritus to accumulate his vast fortune enabled him in that moment to perceive that he was ruined. Not indeed necessarily for ever,—he had known such things before—but at any rate in a manner[31] sufficiently14 hefty to produce his immediate15 collapse16.
When, next morning, he could bring himself to read the papers, the disaster appeared before him in its exact proportions and tremendous scale.
That speech, that statesman-like speech, had never been delivered—and for the best of reasons: Popocatapetl had unbosomed first! In the wild fall of prices nothing had done more to ruin the market than the heavy selling of agents acting17 on account of Theocritus C. Benson. There were dozens within the roaring walls of the building in Wall Street, thousands in the anxious streets without, who saw in the Benson selling yet another move of diabolical18 cunning proceeding19 from that Napoleonic brain. His agents had done their work thoroughly20 and well. They had anticipated his orders with such promptitude that no stock was left unsaleable upon their hands, and when, before the end of that black day, Popocatapetls were offering at the cost of haulage, they could proudly say that every interest of their client’s in the ruined concern had been disposed of. And Theocritus C. Benson, henceforward known as the Earthquake King, was left with no unsaleable paper upon his hands, but on the contrary with a solid cash result equivalent to at least three cents on the dollar of his yesterday’s fortune. This it is to be faithfully served in the intricacies of modern speculation21!
A truce22 to Ole Man Benson! If I have introduced[32] his wretched commercial adventures at such length it is but to explain the portentous23 effect which they had upon the fortunes of one British statesman.
Far off in London (Eng.) George Mulross Demaine saw nothing in his morning newspaper but the news (to him a serious matter) that Pink Eye was scratched for the Grand National. His wife, whom her father had shielded from the vulgar atmosphere of commerce, noted24 indeed the news from the Western Hemisphere and was for a passing moment concerned; but Ole Man Benson did not telegraph, for there were no flies upon him, nor did Ole Man Benson even write, and for the same entomological reason.
Oh! no. Ole Man Benson proceeded to New York, had certain interviews with certain people, took certain drugs, went through a certain cure, laid as he hoped the foundations of yet another scheme, and not until 30th of March, a full week after the matter I have described, did Theocritus dictate25 a brief note to his daughter, which I will here transcribe26:
(If not delivered, please return
within three days to
Theocritus C. Benson.)
“2909 Kanaka Building
New York City
30/3/’15
Coming across on Potassic. Depart 4th—probable arrival Plymouth 11th. Shall cable.
(Signed) Father”
With true business instinct the great organiser[33] dispatched the cable upon the 4th of April, so that his daughter received upon the evening of the same day in her London house the reassuring27 word “eleventh,” which her reception of the letter a few days later easily enabled her to comprehend; and on 11th of April, sure enough, Ole Man Benson in a grave and sober manner embraced his daughter on the landing-stage at Plymouth. George Mulross Demaine was also there, standing28 a little behind the affectionate group, clothed in a large green ulster and a cap of the same cloth and colour with an enormous peak.
They got into the train together and all the way up to London the master of empty millions said nothing.
His daughter with filial gaiety assured him that she had waited his orders, to which he replied, “Good girl Sudie.”
During the meal he was as silent as he had been upon the journey, and at the end of it he gave his son-in-law to understand that he desired to talk business with his daughter and preferred to be alone with her: and George Mulross went out, taking his wine with him, for his wife’s father drank none, but only Toxine.
The message Ole Man Benson had to deliver to Sudie was simple enough: there would, for he could not say how long, be no more money forthcoming.[34] He hoped the position might be retrieved30; he was confident it would be retrieved before the Fall, by Thanksgiving at latest. Till then, nit!
Sudie had all her father’s readiness; she pointed31 out to him at once that under the conditions of English politics the total cessation of an income the source of which was familiar to her husband’s friends, would at once affect her father’s credit in future transactions, and clearly showed that no investment could be more to his advantage than the placing of sums at her disposal for the proper up-keep of his daughter’s position in the society of London.
To this powerful argument Theocritus immediately replied that those who looked for hens’ teeth were liable to be stung; that cigars containing explosive matter had been offered him too frequently in the past for him now to entertain the thought of consuming them; and that when he was bulling London he would advise. By which parables32 he intended to, and did, convey to his daughter his fixed33 conclusion that it was up to her to bear futures34: and lest she should have failed wholly to seize his point, he told her briefly35 and in the plainest terms that whatever rocks were going were wanted—badly—to sling36 at something with more dough37 in it than Mayfair.
This little conversation over, Demaine was given to understand that he might re-enter the room. He was a little shy in doing so, for interviews of this sort usually meant some new gift or subsidy39, but it[35] was shyness of a pleasant sort and he had little doubt that he should hear in a moment the extent or at least the nature of the new bounty40 which his young household was to receive. He was therefore only puzzled by the novelty of phrasing when his father-in-law, looking at him in a manner rather humorous than severe, remarked:
“Well, I’ve stacked it up with Sudie, and she may stack it up with you.” Then in a kinder tone, he added: “You catch?”
“Yes sir,” said George untruthfully.
“Why then, ’nuff’s said,” concluded the Captain of Industry, and very thoughtfully he picked his teeth with a long fine silver point which he habitually41 carried in his waistcoat for that purpose of the toilet. “It’s no call ter last long,” he muttered half to himself and half to the bewildered Demaine; “anyhow the pump’s sucking; and there’s no more oil,”—to elucidate42 which somewhat cryptic43 phrase Sudie begged her husband not to stand gaping44 there like a booby, but to sit down and understand as much of it as he could.
Whereupon in the clearest possible language, punctuated45 by her father’s decisive and approving nods, she translated into older idioms exactly what had happened, and exactly what it meant. They were worth just ￡1500 a year between them from that day onwards for—well, till there was a change.
It was not tact46 but nervousness that prevented George at the end of this dreadful passage from[36] suggesting that his father-in-law could do again what he had done before, that the strain was temporary, and that he for his part hoped for the best; but his wife, who was by this time fairly well accustomed to follow his thought, was careful to point out that whatever the future might do for them, the present was dirt black, and the present meant at least two years:
“At least two years?” (to her father).
To which her father very simply and plainly answered her: “Yep.”
There was much of the splendid blood of Theocritus in Sudie; indeed it is often observed that the genius of the father will descend47 to the daughter—and vice48 versa. The very next sentence, therefore, with which Sudie prodded49 her disconsolate50 spouse51, was a demand for a list of those who might be ready to take Demaine House, to take it at once, to take it furnished, to take it high, to take it by the year and not for the season, and, when they had taken it, to pay.
Demaine immediately suggested the name of such of his acquaintance as might most desire to occupy such a position in London, and were also least able to do so, but he was careful to add after each name, some such remark as “But of course they won’t do,” or “but I don’t think he can afford it,”—until his father-in-law in a pardonable lassitude went out.
“The best thing you can do,” said his wife with[37] renewed decision when they were alone, “is to get up right here and go round to Mary’s.” For it was a notable circumstance in Sudie’s relations with Mrs. Smith that while that lady gave her her full title, she would invariably allude52 to Mrs. Smith by the more affectionate medium of the Christian53 name.
Demaine assented54. He found his father-in-law at the door; they went out together into the night, and when he had timidly admitted that he was going South towards St. James’s, the financier with rapid decision announced that he was going North towards Marylebone,—and they parted.
Mary Smith was not in. It was only eleven and the theatre detained her. George waited. He took counsel from several valuable pictures, was careful to touch and handle nothing upon her tables (for he knew that she detested55 an accident and with almost-canine-sagacity could invariably detect his interference), and stood, not at ease.
She came in at twelve; she brought a party with her, and she insisted upon supper. It was one before she could talk to him alone, and she talked to him until two.
The first thing she did was to tell him that he could not let his house that season and that he must make up his mind to it. The second was to discover what balance there was at the bank—and to hear that it was pitifully small. The third was to offer him a short loan that would carry him over at least[38] a few weeks of necessary expense, and the fourth to tell him that, not upon the morrow but upon the day after, she would have decided56.
Meanwhile he must post a letter for her.
She sat down and wrote at once to William Bailey.
“When you get outside, George,” she said as she gave him the letter, “you will see a very large pillar box. It is much larger than most pillar boxes; it has two slits58 in it instead of one. Do you follow me?”
“You will not put this letter in your pocket, George,” she went on firmly and kindly60, as certain practitioners61 do when they propose to hypnotise their patients. “You will carry it in front of you like this.” She put it into his right hand, crooked62 his arm, held his wrist upright, so that his eyes could not help falling upon the missive. “The moment you get outside you will put it in the right-hand slit57 of the pillar box, won’t you?”
He said “yes” again, as humbly as before. And as he went out he did all that she had asked him, though to make the matter more sure she watched for a moment from the window.
When William Bailey received the letter next morning he was in the best of moods. For one thing he was going to leave London for three weeks,—a prospect that always delighted him. For another he was going to do some sea fishing, a[39] sport of which he was passionately63 fond. For a third, an Austrian money-lender and a baron64 at that, had shot himself—it had of course been kept out of the English papers, but he had read all the details in one of the anti-semitic rags which are the disgrace of Vienna, and his spirits had risen, buoyant at the news. Finally, and what was of perhaps most importance for an eccentric and middle-aged65 celibate66, the house which he had hired for a month he knew exactly suited him. It was the house of Merry, the architect, and stood just so far from Parham Town as would give him the isolation67 he adored, yet just so near to Parham Harbour as would put him in touch with the sea.
For all these reasons he read Mary Smith’s little note in great gaiety of heart, and in a mood in which men of influence are willing to do what they can for their kind.
Like many men of wealth and ability whom opportunity has made eccentric, William Bailey could not bear to handle the pen. He hesitated for some moments between the extreme boredom68 of writing and the tantalising business of the telephone, decided in favour of the former, wrote on a form—
“Get Dolly to make room for him.
(Signed) Bill”—
and sent the message out to be telegraphed to his cousin.
[40]Mary Smith, receiving it, received with it a great light.
It was not always easy for her to follow the changes that took place in political appointments, but she was certain of this, that the present administration contained more unfamiliar69 names than she cared to think of, and that there must be room in such a crowd for a man of poor George’s standing.
Now from the moment that such thoughts as these entered Mary Smith’s head about a man’s appointment, that man was safe: poor George’s future was therefore ultimately secure. But there was no time to lose. He must get on to the front bench, and he must get there with a salary, and the salary must be sufficient, and the promotion70 must be rapid. She remembered that Dolly would be at the Petheringtons’ that evening, and she determined71 to be there too. She hoped and prayed that nothing would bring George, though since George was everywhere the chances were against her prayer being answered.
For the moment she thought of warning him not to come, then, remembering certain indiscretions of his in the past, she thought it best to say nothing, but to trust to chance.
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1
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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insufficient
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| adj.(for，of)不足的，不够的 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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perennial
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| adj.终年的；长久的 | |
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ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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plummets
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| v.垂直落下，骤然跌落( plummet的第三人称单数 ) | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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shovelled
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| v.铲子( shovel的过去式和过去分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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17
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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19
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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transcribe
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| v.抄写，誉写；改编(乐曲)；复制，转录 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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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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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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30
retrieved
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| v.取回( retrieve的过去式和过去分词 )；恢复；寻回；检索（储存的信息） | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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32
parables
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| n.（圣经中的）寓言故事( parable的名词复数 ) | |
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33
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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futures
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| n.期货，期货交易 | |
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briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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subsidy
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| n.补助金，津贴 | |
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bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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elucidate
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| v.阐明，说明 | |
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cryptic
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| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
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44
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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45
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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46
tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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47
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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48
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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49
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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50
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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51
spouse
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| n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
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52
allude
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| v.提及，暗指 | |
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53
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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54
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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57
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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58
slits
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| n.狭长的口子，裂缝( slit的名词复数 )v.切开，撕开( slit的第三人称单数 )；在…上开狭长口子 | |
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59
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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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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practitioners
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| n.习艺者，实习者( practitioner的名词复数 )；从业者（尤指医师） | |
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62
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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64
baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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celibate
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| adj.独身的，独身主义的；n.独身者 | |
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67
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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68
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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69
unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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70
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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71
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
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