It was not in the room known at the red house as Mr.
Royall's "office" that he received his infrequentclients. Professional dignity and masculineindependence made it necessary that he should have areal office, under a different roof; and his standingas the only lawyer of North Dormer required that theroof should be the same as that which sheltered theTown Hall and the post-office.
It was his habit to walk to this office twice a day,morning and afternoon. It was on the ground floor ofthe building, with a separate entrance, and a weatheredname-plate on the door. Before going in he stepped into the post-office for his mail--usually an emptyceremony--said a word or two to the town-clerk, who satacross the passage in idle state, and then went over tothe store on the opposite corner, where Carrick Fry,the storekeeper, always kept a chair for him, and wherehe was sure to find one or two selectmen leaning on thelong counter, in an atmosphere of rope, leather, tarand coffee-beans. Mr. Royall, though monosyllabic athome, was not averse1, in certain moods, to impartinghis views to his fellow-townsmen; perhaps, also, he wasunwilling that his rare clients should surprise himsitting, clerkless and unoccupied, in his dusty office.
At any rate, his hours there were not much longer ormore regular than Charity's at the library; the rest ofthe time he spent either at the store or in drivingabout the country on business connected with theinsurance companies that he represented, or in sittingat home reading Bancroft's History of the United Statesand the speeches of Daniel Webster.
Since the day when Charity had told him that she wishedto succeed to Eudora Skeff's post their relations hadundefinably but definitely changed. Lawyer Royall hadkept his word. He had obtained the place for her atthe cost of considerable maneuvering2, as she guessedfrom the number of rival candidates, and from theacerbity with which two of them, Orma Fry and theeldest Targatt girl, treated her for nearly a yearafterward. And he had engaged Verena Marsh3 to come upfrom Creston and do the cooking. Verena was a poor oldwidow, doddering and shiftless: Charity suspected thatshe came for her keep. Mr. Royall was too close a manto give a dollar a day to a smart girl when he couldget a deaf pauper4 for nothing. But at any rate, Verenawas there, in the attic5 just over Charity, and the factthat she was deaf did not greatly trouble the younggirl.
Charity knew that what had happened on that hatefulnight would not happen again. She understood that,profoundly as she had despised Mr. Royall ever since,he despised himself still more profoundly. If she hadasked for a woman in the house it was far less for herown defense6 than for his humiliation7. She needed noone to defend her: his humbled8 pride was her surestprotection. He had never spoken a word of excuse orextenuation; the incident was as if it had never been.
Yet its consequences were latent in every word that heand she exchanged, in every glance they instinctivelyturned from each other. Nothing now would ever shakeher rule in the red house.
On the night of her meeting with Miss Hatchard's cousinCharity lay in bed, her bare arms clasped under herrough head, and continued to think of him. Shesupposed that he meant to spend some time in NorthDormer. He had said he was looking up the old houses inthe neighbourhood; and though she was not very clear asto his purpose, or as to why anyone should look for oldhouses, when they lay in wait for one on everyroadside, she understood that he needed the help ofbooks, and resolved to hunt up the next day the volumeshe had failed to find, and any others that seemedrelated to the subject.
Never had her ignorance of life and literature soweighed on her as in reliving the short scene of herdiscomfiture. "It's no use trying to be anything inthis place," she muttered to her pillow; and sheshrivelled at the vision of vague metropolises10, shiningsuper-Nettletons, where girls in better clothes thanBelle Balch's talked fluently of architecture to youngmen with hands like Lucius Harney's. Then sheremembered his sudden pause when he had come close tothe desk and had his first look at her. The sight hadmade him forget what he was going to say; she recalledthe change in his face, and jumping up she ran over thebare boards to her washstand, found the matches, lit acandle, and lifted it to the square of looking-glass onthe white-washed wall. Her small face, usually sodarkly pale, glowed like a rose in the faint orb11 oflight, and under her rumpled12 hair her eyes seemeddeeper and larger than by day. Perhaps after all itwas a mistake to wish they were blue. A clumsy bandand button fastened her unbleached night-gown about thethroat. She undid13 it, freed her thin shoulders, and sawherself a bride in low-necked satin, walking down anaisle with Lucius Harney. He would kiss her as theyleft the church....She put down the candle and coveredher face with her hands as if to imprison14 the kiss. Atthat moment she heard Mr. Royall's step as he came upthe stairs to bed, and a fierce revulsion of feelingswept over her. Until then she had merely despisedhim; now deep hatred15 of him filled her heart. He becameto her a horrible old man....
The next day, when Mr. Royall came back to dinner, theyfaced each other in silence as usual. Verena'spresence at the table was an excuse for their nottalking, though her deafness would have permitted thefreest interchange of confidences. But when the mealwas over, and Mr. Royall rose from the table, he lookedback at Charity, who had stayed to help the old womanclear away the dishes.
"I want to speak to you a minute," he said; and shefollowed him across the passage, wondering.
He seated himself in his black horse-hair armchair, andshe leaned against the window, indifferently. She wasimpatient to be gone to the library, to hunt for thebook on North Dormer.
"See here," he said, "why ain't you at the library thedays you're supposed to be there?"The question, breaking in on her mood of blissfulabstraction, deprived her of speech, and she stared athim for a moment without answering.
"Who says I ain't?""There's been some complaints made, it appears. MissHatchard sent for me this morning----"Charity's smouldering resentment16 broke into a blaze. "Iknow! Orma Fry, and that toad17 of a Targatt girl and BenFry, like as not. He's going round with her. The low-down sneaks--I always knew they'd try to have me out!
As if anybody ever came to the library, anyhow!""Somebody did yesterday, and you weren't there.""Yesterday?" she laughed at her happy recollection. "Atwhat time wasn't I there yesterday, I'd like to know?""Round about four o'clock."Charity was silent. She had been so steeped in thedreamy remembrance of young Harney's visit that she hadforgotten having deserted18 her post as soon as he hadleft the library.
"Who came at four o'clock?""Miss Hatchard did.""Miss Hatchard? Why, she ain't ever been near the placesince she's been lame19. She couldn't get up the stepsif she tried.""She can be helped up, I guess. She was yesterday,anyhow, by the young fellow that's staying with her. Hefound you there, I understand, earlier in theafternoon; and he went back and told Miss Hatchard thebooks were in bad shape and needed attending to. Shegot excited, and had herself wheeled straight round;and when she got there the place was locked. So shesent for me, and told me about that, and about theother complaints. She claims you've neglected things,and that she's going to get a trained librarian."Charity had not moved while he spoke9. She stood withher head thrown back against the window-frame, her armshanging against her sides, and her hands so tightlyclenched that she felt, without knowing what hurt her,the sharp edge of her nails against her palms.
Of all Mr. Royall had said she had retained only thephrase: "He told Miss Hatchard the books were in badshape." What did she care for the other charges againsther? Malice20 or truth, she despised them as she despisedher detractors. But that the stranger to whom she hadfelt herself so mysteriously drawn21 should have betrayedher! That at the very moment when she had fled up thehillside to think of him more deliciously he shouldhave been hastening home to denounce her short-comings!
She remembered how, in the darkness of her room, shehad covered her face to press his imagined kiss closer;and her heart raged against him for the liberty he hadnot taken.
"Well, I'll go," she said suddenly. "I'll go rightoff.""Go where?" She heard the startled note in Mr. Royall'svoice.
"Why, out of their old library: straight out, and neverset foot in it again. They needn't think I'm going towait round and let them say they've discharged me!""Charity--Charity Royall, you listen----" he began,getting heavily out of his chair; but she waved himaside, and walked out of the room.
Upstairs she took the library key from the place whereshe always hid it under her pincushion--who said shewasn't careful?--put on her hat, and swept down againand out into the street. If Mr. Royall heard her go hemade no motion to detain her: his sudden rages probablymade him understand the uselessness of reasoning withhers.
She reached the brick temple, unlocked the door andentered into the glacial twilight22. "I'm glad I'llnever have to sit in this old vault23 again when otherfolks are out in the sun!" she said aloud as thefamiliar chill took her. She looked with abhorrence24 atthe long dingy25 rows of books, the sheep-nosed Minervaon her black pedestal, and the mild-faced young man ina high stock whose effigy26 pined above her desk. Shemeant to take out of the drawer her roll of lace andthe library register, and go straight to Miss Hatchardto announce her resignation. But suddenly a greatdesolation overcame her, and she sat down and laid herface against the desk. Her heart was ravaged27 by life'scruelest discovery: the first creature who had cometoward her out of the wilderness28 had brought heranguish instead of joy. She did not cry; tears camehard to her, and the storms of her heart spentthemselves inwardly. But as she sat there in her dumbwoe she felt her life to be too desolate29, too ugly andintolerable.
"What have I ever done to it, that it should hurt meso?" she groaned30, and pressed her fists against herlids, which were beginning to swell31 with weeping.
"I won't--I won't go there looking like a horror!" shemuttered, springing up and pushing back her hair as ifit stifled32 her. She opened the drawer, dragged out theregister, and turned toward the door. As she did so itopened, and the young man from Miss Hatchard's came inwhistling.
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averse
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| adj.厌恶的；反对的，不乐意的 | |
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maneuvering
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| v.移动，用策略( maneuver的现在分词 )；操纵 | |
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3
marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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7
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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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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metropolises
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| n.一国的主要城市（不一定是首都）( metropolis的名词复数 )；中心；大都会；大城市 | |
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orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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imprison
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| vt.监禁，关押，限制，束缚 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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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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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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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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30
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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32
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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