Thorpe walked through the silent group of men without seeing them. He had no thought for what he had done, but for the triumphant1 discovery he had made in spite of himself. This he saw at once as something to glory in and as a duty to be fulfilled.
It was then about six o'clock in the morning. Thorpe passed the boarding-house, the store, and the office, to take himself as far as the little open shed that served the primitive2 town as a railway station. There he set the semaphore to flag the east-bound train from Duluth. At six thirty-two, the train happening on time, he climbed aboard. He dropped heavily into a seat and stared straight in front of him until the conductor had spoken to him twice.
"Where to, Mr. Thorpe?" he asked.
The latter gazed at him uncomprehendingly.
"Oh! Mackinaw City," he replied at last.
"How're things going up your way?" inquired the conductor by way of conversation while he made out the pay-slip.
"Good!" responded Thorpe mechanically.
The act of paying for his fare brought to his consciousness that he had but a little over ten dollars with him. He thrust the change back into his pocket, and took up his contemplation of nothing. The river water dripped slowly from his "cork4" boots to form a pool on the car floor. The heavy wool of his short driving trousers steamed in the car's warmth. His shoulders dried in a little cloud of vapor5. He noticed none of these things, but stared ahead, his gaze vacant, the bronze of his face set in the lines of a brown study, his strong capable hands hanging purposeless between his knees. The ride to Mackinaw City was six hours long, and the train in addition lost some ninety minutes; but in all this distance Thorpe never altered his pose nor his fixed6 attitude of attention to some inner voice.
The car-ferry finally landed them on the southern peninsula. Thorpe descended8 at Mackinaw City to find that the noon train had gone. He ate lunch at the hotel,--borrowed a hundred dollars from the agent of Louis Sands, a lumberman of his acquaintance; and seated himself rigidly9 in the little waiting room, there to remain until the nine-twenty that night. When the cars were backed down from the siding, he boarded the sleeper11. In the doorway12 stood a disapproving13 colored porter.
"Yo'll fin7' the smokin' cab up fo'wu'd, suh," said the latter, firmly barring the way.
"It's generally forward," answered Thorpe.
"This yeah's th' sleepah," protested the functionary14. "You pays extry."
"I am aware of it," replied Thorpe curtly15. "Give me a lower."
"Yessah!" acquiesced16 the darkey, giving way, but still in doubt. He followed Thorpe curiously17, peering into the smoking room on him from time to time. A little after twelve his patience gave out. The stolid18 gloomy man of lower six seemed to intend sitting up all night.
"Yo' berth19 is ready, sah," he delicately suggested.
Thorpe arose obediently, walked to lower six, and, without undressing, threw himself on the bed. Afterwards the porter, in conscientious20 discharge of his duty, looked diligently21 beneath the seat for boots to polish. Happening to glance up, after fruitless search he discovered the boots still adorning22 the feet of their owner.
"Well, for th' LANDS sake!" ejaculated the scandalized negro, beating a hasty retreat.
He was still more scandalized when, the following noon, his strange fare brushed by him without bestowing23 the expected tip.
Thorpe descended at Twelfth Street in Chicago without any very clear notion of where he was going. For a moment he faced the long park-like expanse of the lake front, then turned sharp to his left and picked his way south up the interminable reaches of Michigan Avenue. He did this without any conscious motive--mainly because the reaches seemed interminable, and he proved the need of walking. Block after block he clicked along, the caulks24 of his boots striking fire from the pavement. Some people stared at him a little curiously. Others merely glanced in his direction, attracted more by the expression of his face than the peculiarity25 of his dress. At that time rivermen were not an uncommon26 sight along the water front.
After an interval27 he seemed to have left the smoke and dirt behind. The street became quieter. Boarding-houses and tailors' shops ceased. Here and there appeared a bit of lawn, shrubbery, flowers. The residences established an uptown crescendo28 of magnificence. Policemen seemed trimmer, better-gloved. Occasionally he might have noticed in front of one of the sandstone piles, a besilvered pair champing before a stylish29 vehicle. By and by he came to himself to find that he was staring at the deep-carved lettering in a stone horse-block before a large dwelling30.
His mind took the letters in one after the other, perceiving them plainly before it accorded them recognition. Finally he had completed the word "Farrad." He whirled sharp on his heel, mounted the broad white stone steps, and rang the bell.
It was answered almost immediately by a cleanshaven, portly and dignified31 man with the most impassive countenance32 in the world. This man looked upon Thorpe with lofty disapproval33.
"Is Miss Hilda Farrand at home?" he asked.
"I cannot say," replied the man. "If you will step to the back door, I will ascertain34."
"The flowers will do. Now see that the south room is ready, Annie," floated a voice from within.
Without a word, but with a deadly earnestness, Thorpe reached forward, seized the astonished servant by the collar, yanked him bodily outside the door, stepped inside, and strode across the hall toward a closed portiere whence had come the voice. The riverman's long spikes35 cut little triangular36 pieces from the hardwood floor. Thorpe did not notice that. He thrust aside the portiere.
Before him he saw a young and beautiful girl. She was seated, and her lap was filled with flowers. At his sudden apparition37, her hands flew to her heart, and her lips slightly parted. For a second the two stood looking at each other, just as nearly a year before their eyes had crossed over the old pole trail.
To Thorpe the girl seemed more beautiful than ever. She exceeded even his retrospective dreams of her, for the dream had persistently38 retained something of the quality of idealism which made the vision unreal, while the woman before him had become human flesh and blood, adorable, to be desired. The red of this violent unexpected encounter rushed to her face, her bosom39 rose and fell in a fluttering catch for breath; but her eyes were steady and inquiring.
Then the butter pounced40 on Thorpe from behind with the intent to do great bodily harm.
"Morris!" commanded Hilda sharply, "what are you doing?"
The man cut short his heroism41 in confusion.
"You may go," concluded Hilda.
Thorpe stood straight and unwinking by the straight portiere. After a moment he spoke3.
"I have come to tell you that you were right and I was wrong," said he steadily42. "You told me there could be nothing better than love. In the pride of my strength I told you this was not so. I was wrong."
He stood for another instant, looking directly at her, then turned sharply, and head erect43 walked from the room.
Before he had reached the outer door the girl was at his side.
"Why are you going?" she asked.
"I have nothing more to say."
"NOTHING?"
"Nothing at all."
She laughed happily to herself.
"But I have--much. Come back."
They returned to the little morning room, Thorpe's caulked44 boots gouging45 out the little triangular furrows46 in the hardwood floor. Neither noticed that. Morris, the butler, emerged from his hiding and held up the hands of horror.
"What are you going to do now?" she catechised, facing him in the middle of the room. A long tendril of her beautiful corn-silk hair fell across her eyes; her red lips parted in a faint wistful smile; beneath the draperies of her loose gown the pure slender lines of her figure leaned toward him.
"I am going back," he replied patiently.
"I knew you would come," said she. "I have been expecting you."
She raised one hand to brush back the tendril of hair, but it was a mechanical gesture, one that did not stir even the surface consciousness of the strange half-smiling, half-wistful, starry47 gaze with which she watched his face.
"Oh, Harry48," she breathed, with a sudden flash of insight, "you are a man born to be much misunderstood."
He held himself rigid10, but in his veins49 was creeping a molten fire, and the fire was beginning to glow dully in his eye. Her whole being called him. His heart leaped, his breath came fast, his eyes swam. With almost hypnotic fascination50 the idea obsessed51 him--to kiss her lips, to press the soft body of the young girl, to tumble her hair down about her flower face. He had not come for this. He tried to steady himself, and by an effort that left him weak he succeeded. Then a new flood of passion overcame him. In the later desire was nothing of the old humble52 adoration53. It was elemental, real, almost a little savage54. He wanted to seize her so fiercely as to hurt her. Something caught his throat, filled his lungs, weakened his knees. For a moment it seemed to him that he was going to faint.
And still she stood there before him, saying nothing, leaning slightly towards him, her red lips half parted, her eyes fixed almost wistfully on his face.
"Go away!" he whispered hoarsely55 at last. The voice was not his own. "Go away! Go away!"
Suddenly she swayed to him.
"Oh, Harry, Harry," she whispered, "must I TELL you? Don't you SEE?"
The flood broke through him. He seized her hungrily. He crushed her to him until she gasped56; he pressed his lips against hers until she all but cried out with the pain of it, he ran his great brown hands blindly through her hair until it came down about them both in a cloud of spun57 light.
"Tell me!" he whispered. "Tell me!"
"Oh! Oh!" she cried. "Please! What is it?"
"I do not believe it," he murmured savagely58.
She drew herself from him with gentle dignity.
"I am not worthy59 to say it," she said soberly, "but I love you with all my heart and soul!"
Then for the first and only time in his life Thorpe fell to weeping, while she, understanding, stood by and comforted him.
收听单词发音 |
1
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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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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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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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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fin
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| n.鳍；(飞机的)安定翼 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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functionary
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| n.官员；公职人员 | |
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curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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adorning
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| 修饰，装饰物 | |
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bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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caulks
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| vt.堵（船的）缝（caulk的第三人称单数形式） | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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crescendo
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| n.(音乐)渐强，高潮 | |
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stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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35
spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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triangular
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| adj.三角（形）的，三者间的 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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persistently
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| ad.坚持地；固执地 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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41
heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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42
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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44
caulked
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| v.堵（船的）缝( caulk的过去式和过去分词 )；泥…的缝；填塞；使不漏水 | |
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45
gouging
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| n.刨削[槽]v.凿( gouge的现在分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
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46
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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starry
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| adj.星光照耀的, 闪亮的 | |
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48
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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49
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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50
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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51
obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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52
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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53
adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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54
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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55
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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56
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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57
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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58
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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59
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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