His secret anger against the Preacher and Gaston, his pet, knew no bounds. Chagrined1 at his repulse2 by Mrs. Durham and the attitude of contempt she had maintained toward him, his tongue began to wag her name in slander3 to the crowd of young satellites loafing around his office in Hambright.
“Yes, boys,” he said, “the Preacher is a great man, but his wife is greater. She’s the handsomest woman in the state in spite of a grey thread or two in her rich chestnut4 hair. She has the most beautiful mouth that ever tempted5 the soul of a man—and boys, my lips know what it means to touch it.”
And when they stared with open eyes at this statement, McLeod shook his head, laughed and whispered, “Say nothing about it—but facts are facts!”
McLeod chuckled6 over the certainty of the shame and suffering that would wring7 the Preacher’s heart when dirty gossips of a village had magnified these words into a complete drama of scandal. For all preachers McLeod had profound contempt, and he felt secure now from personal harm.
The day the Preacher first heard of these rumours9 was the occasion of Gaston’s campaign address under the old oak in the square. He had looked forward to this day with boyish pride mingled10 with a great fatherly love. It would be his triumph. He had stirred this boy’s imagination and moulded his character in the pliant11 hours of his childhood. He had told himself that day he spent with him in the woods fishing, that he had kindled12 a fire in his soul that would not go out till it blazed on the altar of a redeemed13 country. And he was living to see that day.
The streets and square were thronged14 with such a multitude as the village had never seen since it was built. But the Preacher was not among them at the hour the speaking began.
A simple old friend from the country asked him about these rumours. He turned pale as death, made no answer, and walked rapidly toward his study in the church where his library was now arranged. He was dazed with horror. It was the first he had heard of it. One thing in his estimate of life had always been as securely fixed15 and sheltered in his thought as his faith in God, and that was his love for his wife, and his perfect faith in her honour.
He closed his door and locked it and sat down trying to think.
Had he not grown careless in the certainty of his wife’s devotion, and his own quiet but intense love? Had he not forgotten the yearning16 of a woman’s heart for the eternal repetition of love’s language of sign and word?
The tears were in his eyes now, and he felt that his heart would beat to death and break within him!
He saw that his enemy had struck at his weakest spot, and struck to kill.
He lifted his face toward the walls in a vague unseeing look and his eyes rested on a pair of crossed swords over a bookcase. They had been handed down to him from a long line of fighting ancestors. He arose, took them down mechanically, and drew one from its scabbard. How snugly17 its rough hilt fitted his nervous hand grip! He felt a curious throbbing18 in this hilt like a pulse, it was alive, and its spirit stirred deep waters in his soul that had never been ruffled19 before.
He recalled vaguely20 in memory things he knew had never happened to him and yet were part of his inmost life.
“Damn him!” he involuntarily hissed21 as he gripped the sword hilt with the instinctive22 power of the fighting animal that sleeps beneath the skin of all our culture and religion.
And then his eyes rested on a quaint23 little daguerreotype24 picture of his wife in her bridal dress, her sweet girlish face full of innocent pride and warm with his love. By its side he saw the portrait of their dead boy. How he recalled now every hour of that wonderful period preceding his birth—the unspeakable pride and tenderness with which he watched over his young wife! He recalled the morning of his birth, and the heart rending25, piteous cries of young motherhood that tore his heart until the nails of his own fingers cut the flesh and drew the blood. How the minutes seemed long hours, and how at last he bent26 over her, softly kissed the drawn27 white lips, and gazed with tearful wonder and awe28 on the little red bundle resting on her breast! He recalled the tremor29 of weariness in her voice when she drew his head down close and whispered, “I didn’t mind the pain, John, though I couldn’t help the cries. He’s yours and mine—I am as proud as a queen. Now our souls are one in him—I am tired—I must sleep.”
Every movement of his past life seemed to stand out in this crisis with fiery30 clearness. He seemed to live in an instant whole years in every detail of that closeness of personal life that makes marriage a part of every stroke of the heart.
At last he set his lips firmly and said, “Yes, damn him, I will kill him as I would a snake!” He sat down and wrote his resignation as pastor31 of the church, left it on his desk, and strode hurriedly from the study leaving his door open. He purchased a revolver and a box of cartridges32 and walked straight to McLeod’s office.
The speaking was over, and McLeod was alone writing letters. He looked up with scant33 politeness as the Preacher entered and motioned him to a seat.
Instead of seating himself, he closed the door, and standing34 erect35 in front of it, said, “Allan McLeod, you are the author of an infamous36 slander reflecting on the honour of my wife!”
“Indeed!” McLeod sneered37, wheeling in his chair.
“I always knew that you were a moral leper”—
“Of course, Doctor, of course, but don’t get excited,” laughed McLeod enjoying the marks of anguish38 on his face.
“But that your lecherous39 body should dream of invading the sanctity of my home, and your tongue attempt to smirch its honour, was beyond my wildest dream of your effrontery40. How dare you?”—
“Dare? Dare, Preacher?” interrupted McLeod still sneering41. “Why, by ‘The Higher Law,’ of course. You have been teaching all your life that there are higher laws than paper-made statutes42. You have trained this county in crime under this beautiful ideal. Surely I may follow the teachings of a master in Israel?”
“What do you mean, you red-headed devil?”
“Softly, Preacher,” smiled McLeod. “Simply this. You expound43 ‘The Higher Law,’ for political consumption. I apply it to all life.
“There are but two real laws of man’s nature, hunger and love—all others change with time and progress. These are the higher laws, in fact they are the highest laws. The stupid conventions that superstition44 has built around them may hold back the weak, but the powerful have always defied them. Your brilliant exposition of the higher law in politics first set my mind to work, and led me to a complete emancipation45 from the slavery of conventionalism in which fools have held society for centuries. There are conventional laws and superstitions46 about the little ceremony called marriage cherished by the weak-minded. There is a higher law of nature. The brave live this life of daring freedom, while cowards cling to forms. Do I make myself clear?”
“Perfectly so, you mottled leper. You think that because I am a preacher, I am a poltroon47, and that you can play with me without danger to your skin. Well, I was a man before I was a preacher. There are some things deeper than the forms of religion, if you wish to push the higher law to its last application. You have found that quick in my soul, mine enemy! I have resigned my church—to kill you. There is not room for you and me on this earth”—
0484
McLeod sprang to his feet, his soul chilled by the tone in which the threat was uttered. He started to call for help, and looked down the gleaming barrel of a revolver.
“Move now or open your mouth, and I kill you instantly. Sit down. I give you five minutes to write your last message to this world.”
McLeod sank into his seat trembling like a leaf, with the perspiration48 standing out on his forehead in cold beads49. Now and then he glanced furtively50 at the stem face of blind fury towering over his crouching51 form.
Unable to endure the terrible strain, he sank to the floor whining52, slobbering, begging in abject53 cowardice54 for his life. He crawled toward the Preacher, reached out his hand and touched his foot.
“My God, Doctor, you are mad. You will not commit murder. You are a minister of Jesus Christ. Have mercy. I am at your feet. Your wife is as pure as an angel. I only said what I did to torture you”—
“Get up you snake!” hissed the Preacher, stamping his body with all his might until McLeod screamed with pain and scrambled55 to his feet cowering56 and whining like a cur.
“Finish your letter. You will never leave this room alive.”
A long pitiful sob57 broke the stillness, and McLeod was looking into the Preacher’s face in vain for a ray of hope.
Suddenly Gaston burst into the room trembling with excitement. “My God, Doctor, what does this mean?” he cried seizing the revolver.
McLeod sprang toward Gaston, groaning58 and crawling toward his feet. “Save me Gaston,—the Doctor’s gone mad—he is about to kill me!”
“Charlie, I must!” pleaded the Preacher.
“No, no, this is madness. I thank God I am in time. I missed you at the speaking, and hearing a rumour8 of this slander I hurried to find you. I saw your study open and read your letter. I knew I’d find you here. I ’ll manage McLeod.”
The Preacher sat down crying. McLeod had crawled back to his desk and was mopping his face. Gaston walked over to him and said with slow trembling emphasis, “I give you twelve hours to close this office, wind up your business, and leave. In the meantime you will write a denial of this slander satisfactory to me for publication. If you ever open your mouth again about my foster-mother or put your foot in this county, I will kill you. I expect your letter ready in two hours.”
Gaston took the Preacher by the arm and led him down the stairs and back to his study. In the reaction, there was a pitiable breakdown59.
“Oh! Charlie, you’ve saved me from an unspeakable horror. Yes, I was mad. I was proud and wilful60. I thought I knew myself. To-day, I have looked into the bottom of hell. I have seen the depths of my own heart. Yes, I have in me the germs of all sin and crime. I am the brother of every thief, of every murderer, of every scarlet61 woman of the streets, that ever stood in the stocks, or climbed the steps of a gallows”—
“Hush, I will not listen to such talk. You are a man, that’s all,” interrupted Gaston.
“But God’s mercy is great,” he went on. “I have tried to live for my people and my country, not for myself. If I have failed to be a faithful husband, this is my plea to God, I have not thought of myself, or of my own, but of others.”
After an hour he was quiet, and turning to Gaston he said, “Charlie, go tell your mother to come here, I want to see her.”
When she came, and sat down beside him with quiet dignity, she said, “Now Doctor, say what you wish, Charlie has told me much, but not all. Let us look into each other’s souls to-day.”
“I only want to ask you, dear,” he said tenderly, “just how far your friendship for this villain62 may have led you. I know you are innocent of any crime. I only want to know the measure of my own guilt63.”
“You know, John,” she said, using his first name, as she had not for years, “he has always interested me from a boy, and in the darkest hour of my heart’s life, when I felt your love growing cold and slipping away from me, and my faith in all things fading, he attempted to make vulgar love to me. I repulsed64 him with scorn, and have since treated him with contempt. You know that I kissed him once when he was a boy. I have told you all. What do you propose to do?”
“What will I do, my darling?” he softly asked, taking her hand. “Begin anew from this moment to love and cherish, honour and protect you unto death. You are my wife. I took you a beautiful child, innocent of the world. If you have failed in the least, I have failed. If you have stumbled in the dark even in your thought, I will lift you up in my arms and soothe65 you as a mother would her babe. If you should fall into the bottomless pit, into the pit and down to the lowest depths of hell I would go, and lift you in the arms of my love. To break the tie that binds66 us is unthinkable. It has passed into the infinite. Not only are our souls one in a little boy’s grave, but there is something so absorbing, so interwoven with the hidden things of nature in our union that I defy all the fiends in perdition to break it. Love is eternal. And your love for me was the great fixed thing in my life like my faith in the living God!”
“Oh, John, you are breaking my heart now, when I think that I doubted your love! I could have brooked67 your anger, but this overwhelms me!”
“It has always been my character,” he gravely said.
“Then I have never known you until now,”—and in a moment she was sobbing68 on his breast, the years had rolled back, and they were in the sweet springtime of life again.
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1
chagrined
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| adj.懊恼的，苦恼的v.使懊恼，使懊丧，使悔恨( chagrin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2
repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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3
slander
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| n./v.诽谤，污蔑 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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8
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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10
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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11
pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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13
redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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14
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
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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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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20
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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21
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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22
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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daguerreotype
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| n.银板照相 | |
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25
rending
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| v.撕碎( rend的现在分词 )；分裂；（因愤怒、痛苦等而）揪扯（衣服或头发等）；（声音等）刺破 | |
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26
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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32
cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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33
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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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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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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36
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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37
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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39
lecherous
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| adj.好色的；淫邪的 | |
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40
effrontery
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| n.厚颜无耻 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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42
statutes
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| 成文法( statute的名词复数 )； 法令； 法规； 章程 | |
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43
expound
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| v.详述；解释；阐述 | |
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44
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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45
emancipation
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| n.（从束缚、支配下）解放 | |
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46
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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47
poltroon
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| n.胆怯者；懦夫 | |
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48
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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49
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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50
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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51
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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52
whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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53
abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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54
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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55
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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56
cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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57
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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58
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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59
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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60
wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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61
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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62
villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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63
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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64
repulsed
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| v.击退( repulse的过去式和过去分词 )；驳斥；拒绝 | |
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65
soothe
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| v.安慰；使平静；使减轻；缓和；奉承 | |
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66
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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67
brooked
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| 容忍，忍受（brook的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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68
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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