Sweetwater had promised Mr. Sutherland that he would keep counsel in regard to his present convictions concerning Frederick’s guilt1; but this he knew he could not do if he remained in Sutherlandtown and fell under the pitiless examination of Mr. Courtney, the shrewd and able prosecuting2 attorney of the district. He was too young, too honest, and had made himself too conspicuous3 in this affair to succeed in an undertaking4 requiring so much dissimulation5, if not actual falsehood. Indeed, he was not sure that in his present state of mind he could hear Frederick’s name mentioned without flushing, and slight as such a hint might be, it would be enough to direct attention to Frederick, which once done could but lead to discovery and permanent disgrace to all who bore the name of Sutherland.
What was he to do then? How avoid a consequence he found himself absolutely unable to face? It was a problem which this night must solve for him. But how? As I have said, he went down to his house to think.
Sweetwater was not a man of absolute rectitude. He was not so much high-minded as large-hearted. He had, besides, certain foibles. In the first place, he was vain, and vanity in a very plain man is all the more acute since it centres in his capabilities6, rather than in his appearance. Had Sweetwater been handsome, or even passably attractive, he might have been satisfied with the approbation7 of demure8 maidens9 and a comradeship with his fellows. But being one who could hope for nothing of this kind, not even for a decent return to the unreasoning heart-worship he felt himself capable of paying, and which he had once paid for a few short days till warned of his presumption10 by the insolence11 of the recipient12, he had fixed13 his hope and his ambition on doing something which would rouse the admiration14 of those about him and bring him into that prominence15 to which he felt himself entitled. That he, a skilful16 musician, should desire to be known as a brilliant detective, is only one of the anomalies of human nature which it would be folly17 and a waste of time on our part to endeavour to explain. That, having chosen to exercise his wits in this way, he should so well succeed that he dared not for his life continue in the work he had so publicly undertaken, occasioned in him a pang18 of disappointment almost as insufferable as that brought by the realisation of what his efforts were likely to bring upon the man to whose benevolence19 he owed his very life. Hence his struggle, which must be measured by the extent of his desires and the limitations which had been set to his nature by his surroundings and the circumstances of his life and daily history.
If we enter with him into the humble20 cottage where he was born and from which he had hardly strayed more than a dozen miles in the twenty-two years of his circumscribed21 life, we may be able to understand him better.
It was an unpainted house perched on an arid22 hillside, with nothing before it but the limitless sea. He had found his way to it mechanically, but as he approached the narrow doorway23 he paused and turned his face towards the stretch of heaving waters, whose low or loud booming had been first his cradle song and then the ceaseless accompaniment of his later thoughts and aspirations24. It was heaving yet, ceaselessly heaving, and in its loud complaint there was a sound of moaning not always to be found there, or so it seemed to Sweetwater in his present troubled mood.
Sighing as this sound reached his ear, and shuddering25 as its meaning touched his heart, Sweetwater pushed open the door of his small house, and entered.
“It is I, mamsie!” he shouted, in what he meant to be his usual voice; but to a sensitive ear — and what ear is so sensitive as a mother’s?— there was a tremble in it that was not wholly natural.
“Is anything the matter, dear?” called out that mother, in reply.
The question made him start, though he replied quickly enough, and in more guarded tones:
“No, mamsie. Go to sleep. I’m tired, that’s all.”
Would to God that was all! He recalled with envy the days when he dragged himself into the house at sundown, after twelve long hours of work on the docks. As he paused in the dark hallway and listened till he heard the breathing of her who had called him DEAR— the only one in the world who ever had or ever would call him DEAR— he had glimpses of that old self which made him question if his self-tutoring on the violin, and the restless ambition which had driven him out of the ways of his ancestors into strange attempts for which he was not prepared by any previous discipline, had brought him happiness or improved his manhood. He was forced to acknowledge that the sleep of those far-distant nights of his busy boyhood was sweeter than the wakefulness of these later days, and that it would have been better for him, and infinitely26 better for her, if he had remained at the carpenter’s bench and been satisfied with a repetition of his father’s existence.
His mother was the only person sharing that small house with him, and once assured that she was asleep, he lighted a lamp in the empty kitchen and sat down.
It was just twelve o’clock. This, to anyone accustomed to this peculiar27 young man’s habits, had nothing unusual in it. He was accustomed to come home late and sit thus by himself for a short time before going up-stairs. But, to one capable of reading his sharp and none too mobile countenance28, there was a change in the character of the brooding into which he now sank, which, had that mother been awake to watch him, would have made every turn of his eye and movement of his hand interesting and important.
In the first place, the careless attitude into which he had fallen was totally at variance29 with the restless glance which took in every object in that well-known room so associated with his mother and her daily work that he could not imagine her in any other surroundings, and wondered sometimes if she would seem any longer his mother if transplanted to other scenes and engaged in other tasks.
Little things, petty objects of household use or ornament30, which he had seen all his life without specially31 noticing them, seemed under the stress of his present mood to acquire a sudden importance and fix themselves indelibly in his memory. There, on a nail driven long before he was born, hung the little round lid-holder he had pieced together in his earliest years and presented to his mother in a gush32 of pride greater than any he had since experienced. She had never used it, but it always hung upon the one nail in the one place, as a symbol of his love and of hers. And there, higher up on the end of the shelf barren enough of ornaments33, God wot, were a broken toy and a much-defaced primer, mementos34 likewise of his childhood; and farther along the wall, on a sort of raised bench, a keg, the spigot of which he was once guilty of turning on in his infantile longing35 for sweets, only to find he could not turn it back again until all the floor was covered with molasses, and his appetite for the forbidden gratified to the full. And yonder, dangling36 from a peg37, never devoted38 to any other use, hung his father’s old hat, just where he had placed it on the fatal morning when he came in and lay down on the sitting-room39 lounge for the last time; and close to it, lovingly close to it, Sweetwater thought, his mother’s apron40, the apron he had seen her wear at supper, and which he would see her wear at breakfast, with all its suggestions of ceaseless work and patient every-day thrift41.
Somehow, he could not bear the sight of that apron. With the expectation now forming in his mind, of leaving this home and leaving this mother, this symbol of humble toil42 became an intolerable grief to him. Jumping up, he turned in another direction; but now another group of objects equally eloquent43 came under his eye. It was his mother’s work-basket he saw, with a piece of sewing in it intended for him, and as if this were not enough, the table set for two, and at his place a little covered dish which held the one sweetmeat he craved44 for breakfast. The spectacles lying beside her plate told him how old she was, and as he thought of her failing strength and enfeebled ways, he jumped up again and sought another corner. But here his glances fell on his violin, and a new series of emotions awakened45 within him. He loved the instrument and played as much from natural intuition as acquired knowledge, but in the plan of action he had laid out for himself his violin could have no part. He would have to leave it behind. Feeling that his regrets were fast becoming too much for him, he left the humble kitchen and went up-stairs. But not to sleep. Locking the door (something he never remembered doing before in all his life), he began to handle over his clothes and other trivial belongings46. Choosing out a certain strong suit, he laid it out on the bed and then went to a bureau drawer and drew out an old-fashioned wallet. This he opened, but after he had counted the few bills it contained he shook his head and put them all back, only retaining a little silver, which he slipped into one of the pockets of the suit he had chosen. Then he searched for and found a little Bible which his mother had once given him. He was about to thrust that into another pocket, but he seemed to think better of this, too, for he ended by putting it back into the drawer and taking instead a bit from one of his mother’s old aprons47 which he had chanced upon on the stairway. This he placed as carefully in his watch pocket as if it had been the picture of a girl he loved. Then he undressed and went to bed.
Mrs. Sweetwater said afterwards that she never knew Caleb to talk so much and eat so little as he did that next morning at breakfast. Such plans as he detailed48 for unmasking the murderer of Mrs. Webb! Such business for the day! So many people to see! It made her quite dizzy, she said. And, indeed, Sweetwater was more than usually voluble that morning,— perhaps because he could not bear his mother’s satisfied smile; and when he went out of the house it was with a laugh and a cheery “Good-bye, mamsie” that was in spiking49 contrast to the irrepressible exclamation50 of grief which escaped him when the door was closed between them. Ah, when should he enter those four walls again, and when should he see the old mother?
He proceeded immediately to town. A ship was preparing to sail that morning for the Brazils, and the wharves51 were alive with bustle52. He stopped a moment to contemplate53 the great hulk rising and falling at her moorings, then he passed on and entered the building where he had every reason to expect to find Dr. Talbot and Knapp in discussion. It was very important to him that morning to learn just how they felt concerning the great matter absorbing him, for if suspicion was taking the direction of Frederick, or if he saw it was at all likely to do so, then would his struggle be cut short and all necessity for leaving town be at an end. It was to save Frederick from this danger that he was prepared to cut all the ties binding54 him to this place, and nothing short of the prospect55 of accomplishing this would make him willing to undergo such a sacrifice.
“Well, Sweetwater, any news, eh?” was the half-jeering, half-condescending greeting he received from the coroner.
Sweetwater, who had regained56 entire control over his feelings as soon as he found himself under the eye of this man and the supercilious57 detective he had attempted to rival, gave a careless shrug58 and passed the question on to Knapp. “Have you any news?” he asked.
Knapp, who would probably not have acknowledged it if he had, smiled the indulgent smile of a self-satisfied superior and uttered a few equivocal sentences. This was gall59 and wormwood to Sweetwater, but he kept his temper admirably and, with an air of bravado60 entirely61 assumed for the occasion, said to Dr. Talbot:
“I think I shall have something to tell you soon which will materially aid you in your search for witnesses. By to-morrow, at least, I shall know whether I am right or wrong in thinking I have discovered an important witness in quite an unexpected quarter.”
Sweetwater knew of no new witness, but it was necessary for him not only to have a pretext62 for the move he contemplated63, but to so impress these men with an idea of his extreme interest in the approaching proceedings64, that no suspicion should ever arise of his having premeditated an escape from them. He wished to appear the victim of accident; and this is why he took nothing from his home which would betray any intention of leaving it.
“Ha! indeed!” ejaculated the coroner with growing interest. “And may I ask ——”
“Please,” urged Sweetwater, with a side look at Knapp, “do not ask me anything just yet. This afternoon, say, after I have had a certain interview with — What, are they setting sails on the Hesper already?” he burst out, with a quick glance from the window at the great ship riding at anchor a little distance from them in the harbour. “There is a man on her I must see. Excuse me — Oh, Mr. Sutherland!”
He fell back in confusion. That gentleman had just entered the room in company with Frederick.
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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prosecuting
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| 检举、告发某人( prosecute的现在分词 )； 对某人提起公诉； 继续从事（某事物）； 担任控方律师 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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dissimulation
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| n.掩饰，虚伪，装糊涂 | |
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capabilities
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| n.能力( capability的名词复数 )；可能；容量；[复数]潜在能力 | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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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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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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prominence
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| n.突出；显著；杰出；重要 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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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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circumscribed
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| adj.[医]局限的：受限制或限于有限空间的v.在…周围划线( circumscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；划定…范围；限制；限定 | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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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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variance
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| n.矛盾，不同 | |
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ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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mementos
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| 纪念品，令人回忆的东西( memento的名词复数 ) | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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thrift
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| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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45
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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aprons
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| 围裙( apron的名词复数 )； 停机坪，台口（舞台幕前的部份） | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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49
spiking
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| n.尖峰形成v.加烈酒于( spike的现在分词 )；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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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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51
wharves
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| n.码头，停泊处( wharf的名词复数 ) | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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53
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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supercilious
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| adj.目中无人的，高傲的；adv.高傲地；n.高傲 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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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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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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62
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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