They began to jog down the winding1 road to the valleyat old Dan's languid pace. Charity felt herselfsinking into deeper depths of weariness, and as theydescended through the bare woods there were momentswhen she lost the exact sense of things, and seemed tobe sitting beside her lover with the leafy arch ofsummer bending over them. But this illusion was faintand transitory. For the most part she had only aconfused sensation of slipping down a smoothirresistible current; and she abandoned herself to thefeeling as a refuge from the torment2 of thought.
Mr. Royall seldom spoke3, but his silent presence gaveher, for the first time, a sense of peace and security.
She knew that where he was there would be warmth, rest,silence; and for the moment they were all she wanted.
She shut her eyes, and even these things grew dim toher....
In the train, during the short run from Creston toNettleton, the warmth aroused her, and theconsciousness of being under strange eyes gave hera momentary4 energy. She sat upright, facing Mr.
Royall, and stared out of the window at the denudedcountry. Forty-eight hours earlier, when she had lasttraversed it, many of the trees still held theirleaves; but the high wind of the last two nights hadstripped them, and the lines of the landscape' were asfinely pencilled as in December. A few days of autumncold had wiped out all trace of the rich fields andlanguid groves5 through which she had passed on theFourth of July; and with the fading of the landscapethose fervid6 hours had faded, too. She could no longerbelieve that she was the being who had lived them; shewas someone to whom something irreparable andoverwhelming had happened, but the traces of the stepsleading up to it had almost vanished.
When the train reached Nettleton and she walked outinto the square at Mr. Royall's side the sense ofunreality grew more overpowering. The physical strainof the night and day had left no room in her mind fornew sensations and she followed Mr. Royall as passivelyas a tired child. As in a confused dream she presentlyfound herself sitting with him in a pleasant room, at atable with a red and white table-cloth on whichhot food and tea were placed. He filled her cup andplate and whenever she lifted her eyes from them shefound his resting on her with the same steady tranquilgaze that had reassured7 and strengthened her when theyhad faced each other in old Mrs. Hobart's kitchen. Aseverything else in her consciousness grew more and moreconfused and immaterial, became more and more like theuniversal shimmer8 that dissolves the world to failingeyes, Mr. Royall's presence began to detach itself withrocky firmness from this elusive9 background. She hadalways thought of him--when she thought of him at all--as of someone hateful and obstructive, but whom shecould outwit and dominate when she chose to make theeffort. Only once, on the day of the Old Home Weekcelebration, while the stray fragments of his addressdrifted across her troubled mind, had she caught aglimpse of another being, a being so different from thedull-witted enemy with whom she had supposed herself tobe living that even through the burning mist of her owndreams he had stood out with startling distinctness.
For a moment, then, what he said--and something in hisway of saying it--had made her see why he had alwaysstruck her as such a lonely man. But the mist ofher dreams had hidden him again, and she had forgottenthat fugitive10 impression.
It came back to her now, as they sat at the table, andgave her, through her own immeasurable desolation, asudden sense of their nearness to each other. But allthese feelings were only brief streaks11 of light in thegrey blur12 of her physical weakness. Through it she wasaware that Mr. Royall presently left her sitting by thetable in the warm room, and came back after an intervalwith a carriage from the station--a closed "hack13" withsun-burnt blue silk blinds--in which they drovetogether to a house covered with creepers and standingnext to a church with a carpet of turf before it. Theygot out at this house, and the carriage waited whilethey walked up the path and entered a wainscoted halland then a room full of books. In this room aclergyman whom Charity had never seen received thempleasantly, and asked them to be seated for a fewminutes while witnesses were being summoned.
Charity sat down obediently, and Mr. Royall, his handsbehind his back, paced slowly up and down the room. Ashe turned and faced Charity, she noticed that hislips were twitching15 a little; but the look in his eyeswas grave and calm. Once he paused before her and saidtimidly: "Your hair's got kinder loose with the wind,"and she lifted her hands and tried to smooth back thelocks that had escaped from her braid. There was alooking-glass in a carved frame on the wall, but shewas ashamed to look at herself in it, and she sat withher hands folded on her knee till the clergymanreturned. Then they went out again, along a sort ofarcaded passage, and into a low vaulted16 room with across on an altar, and rows of benches. The clergyman,who had left them at the door, presently reappearedbefore the altar in a surplice, and a lady who wasprobably his wife, and a man in a blue shirt who hadbeen raking dead leaves on the lawn, came in and sat onone of the benches.
The clergyman opened a book and signed to Charity andMr. Royall to approach. Mr. Royall advanced a fewsteps, and Charity followed him as she had followed himto the buggy when they went out of Mrs. Hobart'skitchen; she had the feeling that if she ceased to keepclose to him, and do what he told her to do, the worldwould slip away from beneath her feet.
The clergyman began to read, and on her dazed mindthere rose the memory of Mr. Miles, standing14 the nightbefore in the desolate17 house of the Mountain, andreading out of the same book words that had the samedread sound of finality:
"I require and charge you both, as ye will answer atthe dreadful day of judgment18 when the secrets of allhearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you knowany impediment whereby ye may not be lawfully19 joinedtogether..."Charity raised her eyes and met Mr. Royall's. Theywere still looking at her kindly20 and steadily21. "Iwill!" she heard him say a moment later, after anotherinterval of words that she had failed to catch. Shewas so busy trying to understand the gestures that theclergyman was signalling to her to make that she nolonger heard what was being said. After anotherinterval the lady on the bench stood up, and taking herhand put it in Mr. Royall's. It lay enclosed in hisstrong palm and she felt a ring that was too big forher being slipped on her thin finger. She understoodthen that she was married....
Late that afternoon Charity sat alone in a bedroom ofthe fashionable hotel where she and Harney hadvainly sought a table on the Fourth of July. She hadnever before been in so handsomely furnished a room.
The mirror above the dressing-table reflected the highhead-board and fluted22 pillow-slips of the double bed,and a bedspread so spotlessly white that she hadhesitated to lay her hat and jacket on it. The hummingradiator diffused23 an atmosphere of drowsy24 warmth, andthrough a half-open door she saw the glitter of thenickel taps above twin marble basins.
For a while the long turmoil25 of the night and day hadslipped away from her and she sat with closed eyes,surrendering herself to the spell of warmth andsilence. But presently this merciful apathy26 wassucceeded by the sudden acuteness of vision with whichsick people sometimes wake out of a heavy sleep. Asshe opened her eyes they rested on the picture thathung above the bed. It was a large engraving27 with adazzling white margin28 enclosed in a wide frame ofbird's-eye maple29 with an inner scroll30 of gold. Theengraving represented a young man in a boat on a lakeover-hung with trees. He was leaning over to gatherwater-lilies for the girl in a light dress who layamong the cushions in the stern. The scene wasfull of a drowsy midsummer radiance, and Charityaverted her eyes from it and, rising from her chair,began to wander restlessly about the room.
It was on the fifth floor, and its broad window ofplate glass looked over the roofs of the town. Beyondthem stretched a wooded landscape in which the lastfires of sunset were picking out a steely gleam.
Charity gazed at the gleam with startled eyes. Eventhrough the gathering31 twilight32 she recognized thecontour of the soft hills encircling it, and the waythe meadows sloped to its edge. It was Nettleton Lakethat she was looking at.
She stood a long time in the window staring out at thefading water. The sight of it had roused her for thefirst time to a realization33 of what she had done. Eventhe feeling of the ring on her hand had not brought herthis sharp sense of the irretrievable. For an instantthe old impulse of flight swept through her; but it wasonly the lift of a broken wing. She heard the dooropen behind her, and Mr. Royall came in.
He had gone to the barber's to be shaved, and hisshaggy grey hair had been trimmed and smoothed. Hemoved strongly and quickly, squaring his shouldersand carrying his head high, as if he did not want topass unnoticed.
"What are you doing in the dark?" he called out in acheerful voice. Charity made no answer. He went up tothe window to draw the blind, and putting his finger onthe wall flooded the room with a blaze of light fromthe central chandelier. In this unfamiliarillumination husband and wife faced each otherawkwardly for a moment; then Mr. Royall said: "We'llstep down and have some supper, if you say so."The thought of food filled her with repugnance34; but notdaring to confess it she smoothed her hair and followedhim to the lift.
An hour later, coming out of the glare of the dining-room, she waited in the marble-panelled hall while Mr.
Royall, before the brass35 lattice of one of the cornercounters, selected a cigar and bought an evening paper.
Men were lounging in rocking chairs under the blazingchandeliers, travellers coming and going, bellsringing, porters shuffling36 by with luggage. Over Mr.
Royall's shoulder, as he leaned against the counter, agirl with her hair puffed37 high smirked38 and nodded at adapper drummer who was getting his key at the deskacross the hall.
Charity stood among these cross-currents of life asmotionless and inert39 as if she had been one of thetables screwed to the marble floor. All her soul wasgathered up into one sick sense of coming doom40, and shewatched Mr. Royall in fascinated terror while hepinched the cigars in successive boxes and unfolded hisevening paper with a steady hand.
Presently he turned and joined her. "You go rightalong up to bed--I'm going to sit down here and have mysmoke," he said. He spoke as easily and naturally asif they had been an old couple, long used to eachother's ways, and her contracted heart gave a flutterof relief. She followed him to the lift, and he puther in and enjoined41 the buttoned and braided boy toshow her to her room.
She groped her way in through the darkness, forgettingwhere the electric button was, and not knowing how tomanipulate it. But a white autumn moon had risen, andthe illuminated42 sky put a pale light in the room. Byit she undressed, and after folding up the ruffledpillow-slips crept timidly under the spotlesscounterpane. She had never felt such smooth sheets orsuch light warm blankets; but the softness of the beddid not soothe43 her. She lay there trembling with afear that ran through her veins44 like ice. "What have Idone? Oh, what have I done?" she whispered, shudderingto her pillow; and pressing her face against it to shutout the pale landscape beyond the window she lay in thedarkness straining her ears, and shaking at everyfootstep that approached....
Suddenly she sat up and pressed her hands against herfrightened heart. A faint sound had told her thatsomeone was in the room; but she must have slept in theinterval, for she had heard no one enter. The moon wassetting beyond the opposite roofs, and in the darknessoutlined against the grey square of the window, she sawa figure seated in the rocking-chair. The figure didnot move: it was sunk deep in the chair, with bowedhead and folded arms, and she saw that it was Mr.
Royall who sat there. He had not undressed, but hadtaken the blanket from the foot of the bed and laid itacross his knees. Trembling and holding her breath shewatched him, fearing that he had been roused by hermovement; but he did not stir, and she concludedthat he wished her to think he was asleep.
As she continued to watch him ineffable45 relief stoleslowly over her, relaxing her strained nerves andexhausted body. He knew, then...he knew...it wasbecause he knew that he had married her, and that hesat there in the darkness to show her she was safe withhim. A stir of something deeper than she had everfelt in thinking of him flitted through her tiredbrain, and cautiously, noiselessly, she let her headsink on the pillow....
When she woke the room was full of morning light, andher first glance showed her that she was alone in it.
She got up and dressed, and as she was fastening herdress the door opened, and Mr. Royall came in. Helooked old and tired in the bright daylight, but hisface wore the same expression of grave friendlinessthat had reassured her on the Mountain. It was as ifall the dark spirits had gone out of him.
They went downstairs to the dining-room for breakfast,and after breakfast he told her he had some insurancebusiness to attend to. "I guess while I'm doing ityou'd better step out and buy yourself whatever youneed." He smiled, and added with an embarrassedlaugh: "You know I always wanted you to beat all theother girls." He drew something from his pocket, andpushed it across the table to her; and she saw that hehad given her two twenty-dollar bills. "If it ain'tenough there's more where that come from--I want you tobeat 'em all hollow," he repeated.
She flushed and tried to stammer46 out her thanks, but hehad pushed back his chair and was leading the way outof the dining-room. In the hall he paused a minute tosay that if it suited her they would take the threeo'clock train back to North Dormer; then he took hishat and coat from the rack and went out.
A few minutes later Charity went out, too. She hadwatched to see in what direction he was going, and shetook the opposite way and walked quickly down the mainstreet to the brick building on the corner of LakeAvenue. There she paused to look cautiously up anddown the thoroughfare, and then climbed the brass-boundstairs to Dr. Merkle's door. The same bushy-headedmulatto girl admitted her, and after the same intervalof waiting in the red plush parlor47 she was once moresummoned to Dr. Merkle's office. The doctorreceived her without surprise, and led her into theinner plush sanctuary48.
"I thought you'd be back, but you've come a mite49 toosoon: I told you to be patient and not fret," sheobserved, after a pause of penetrating50 scrutiny51.
Charity drew the money from her breast. "I've come toget my blue brooch," she said, flushing.
"Your brooch?" Dr. Merkle appeared not to remember.
"My, yes--I get so many things of that kind. Well, mydear, you'll have to wait while I get it out of thesafe. I don't leave valuables like that laying roundlike the noospaper."She disappeared for a moment, and returned with a bitof twisted-up tissue paper from which she unwrapped thebrooch.
Charity, as she looked at it, felt a stir of warmth ather heart. She held out an eager hand.
"Have you got the change?" she asked a littlebreathlessly, laying one of the twenty-dollar bills onthe table.
"Change? What'd I want to have change for? I only seetwo twenties there," Dr. Merkle answered brightly.
Charity paused, disconcerted. "I thought...you said itwas five dollars a visit....""For YOU, as a favour--I did. But how aboutthe responsibility and the insurance? I don't s'poseyou ever thought of that? This pin's worth a hundreddollars easy. If it had got lost or stole, where'd Ibeen when you come to claim it?"Charity remained silent, puzzled and half-convinced bythe argument, and Dr. Merkle promptly52 followed up heradvantage. "I didn't ask you for your brooch, my dear.
I'd a good deal ruther folks paid me my regular chargethan have 'em put me to all this trouble."She paused, and Charity, seized with a desperatelonging to escape, rose to her feet and held out one ofthe bills.
"Will you take that?" she asked.
"No, I won't take that, my dear; but I'll take it withits mate, and hand you over a signed receipt if youdon't trust me.""Oh, but I can't--it's all I've got," Charityexclaimed.
Dr. Merkle looked up at her pleasantly from the plushsofa. "It seems you got married yesterday, up to the'Piscopal church; I heard all about the wedding fromthe minister's chore-man. It would be a pity, wouldn'tit, to let Mr. Royall know you had an accountrunning here? I just put it to you as your own mothermight."Anger flamed up in Charity, and for an instant shethought of abandoning the brooch and letting Dr. Merkledo her worst. But how could she leave her onlytreasure with that evil woman? She wanted it for herbaby: she meant it, in some mysterious way, to be alink between Harney's child and its unknown father.
Trembling and hating herself while she did it, she laidMr. Royall's money on the table, and catching53 up thebrooch fled out of the room and the house....
In the street she stood still, dazed by this lastadventure. But the brooch lay in her bosom54 like atalisman, and she felt a secret lightness of heart. Itgave her strength, after a moment, to walk on slowly inthe direction of the post office, and go in through theswinging doors. At one of the windows she bought asheet of letter-paper, an envelope and a stamp; thenshe sat down at a table and dipped the rusty55 postoffice pen in ink. She had come there possessed56 with afear which had haunted her ever since she had felt Mr.
Royall's ring on her finger: the fear that Harneymight, after all, free himself and come back to her. Itwas a possibility which had never occurred to herduring the dreadful hours after she had received hisletter; only when the decisive step she had taken madelonging turn to apprehension57 did such a contingencyseem conceivable. She addressed the envelope, and onthe sheet of paper she wrote:
I'm married to Mr. Royall. I'll always remember you.
CHARITY.
The last words were not in the least what she had meantto write; they had flowed from her pen irresistibly58.
She had not had the strength to complete her sacrifice;but, after all, what did it matter? Now that there wasno chance of ever seeing Harney again, why should shenot tell him the truth?
When she had put the letter in the box she went outinto the busy sunlit street and began to walk to thehotel. Behind the plateglass windows of the departmentstores she noticed the tempting59 display of dresses anddress-materials that had fired her imagination on theday when she and Harney had looked in at them together.
They reminded her of Mr. Royall's injunction to go outand buy all she needed. She looked down at her shabbydress, and wondered what she should say when hesaw her coming back empty-handed. As she drew nearthe hotel she saw him waiting on the doorstep, and herheart began to beat with apprehension.
He nodded and waved his hand at her approach, and theywalked through the hall and went upstairs to collecttheir possessions, so that Mr. Royall might give up thekey of the room when they went down again for theirmidday dinner. In the bedroom, while she was thrustingback into the satchel60 the few things she had broughtaway with her, she suddenly felt that his eyes were onher and that he was going to speak. She stood still,her half-folded night-gown in her hand, while the bloodrushed up to her drawn61 cheeks.
"Well, did you rig yourself out handsomely? I haven'tseen any bundles round," he said jocosely62.
"Oh, I'd rather let Ally Hawes make the few things Iwant," she answered.
"That so?" He looked at her thoughtfully for a momentand his eye-brows projected in a scowl63. Then his facegrew friendly again. "Well, I wanted you to go backlooking stylisher than any of them; but I guess you'reright. You're a good girl, Charity."Their eyes met, and something rose in his that shehad never seen there: a look that made her feel ashamedand yet secure.
"I guess you're good, too," she said, shyly andquickly. He smiled without answering, and they wentout of the room together and dropped down to the hallin the glittering lift.
Late that evening, in the cold autumn moonlight, theydrove up to the door of the red house.
The End
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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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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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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groves
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| 树丛，小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
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fervid
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| adj.热情的；炽热的 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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standing
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twitching
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vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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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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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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lawfully
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| adv.守法地，合法地；合理地 | |
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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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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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diffused
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| 散布的，普及的，扩散的 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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turmoil
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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apathy
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| n.漠不关心，无动于衷；冷淡 | |
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engraving
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| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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margin
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maple
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scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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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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realization
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| n.实现；认识到，深刻了解 | |
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repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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smirked
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| v.傻笑( smirk的过去分词 ) | |
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inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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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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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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47
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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48
sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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49
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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50
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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51
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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52
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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53
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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54
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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55
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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56
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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57
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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58
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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59
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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60
satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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61
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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jocosely
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| adv.说玩笑地，诙谐地 | |
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63
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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