“Will—will she bring it herself?” he asked, trying to disguise his anxiety.
“Herself! No. She’s rather an important person. She’s gone to America.”
Then the news leaked out that Hal had gone too.
Some nights later he was driving back down Eden Row with his father. They had been to the gallery where the picture was hanging. Without warning the cab pulled up with a jerk; he found himself clinging to the dashboard. His eyes were staring into the gas-lit gloom of Eden Row.
Almost touching1 the horse’s nose, two men, a fat and a lean one, had darted2 out from the shadow of the pavement They were shouting at something that sat balanced, humped like a sack, on the spiked3 palings which divided the river from the road. They had all but reached it; it screamed, shot erect4, and jumped. There was a sullen5 splash, then silence and the gurgling of the river as the ripples6 closed slowly over it.
The silhouette7 of the fat man bent8 double; the silhouette of the lean man, using it as a stepping stone, climbed the palings and dived into the blackness. It would have been a dumb charade9, if the fat man hadn’t said, “Um! Um!” when he felt the lean man’s foot digging into his back.
Teddy was hauled out into the road by his father. Grampus puffings were coming from the river, splashings and groanings. The cabman was standing10 up in his seat, profanely11 expressing his emotions. A police-whistle called near at hand. A hundred yards away another answered. Through the emptiness of night the pounding of feet sounded.
In an instant, as though it had sprung out of the ground, a crowd had gathered. People started to strike matches, which they held out through the palings in a futile12 endeavor to see what was happening.
A policeman came up, elbowing and shoving. He caught the horse’s head and whisked the cab round so that its lamps shone down on the river. They revealed Mr. Hughes, his bowler13 hat smashed over his forehead, swimming desperately14 with one hand and towing a bundle towards the bank.
Men swarmed15 over the palings and dragged him safe to land. Clearing his throat, he commenced explaining to the policeman, “As I was walkin’ with my friend, I sees ’er climbin’ over. I says to ’im, That’s queer. That ain’t allowed.’ And at that moment——”
Teddy lost the rest. Letting go his father’s hand, he was wriggling16 his way to the front through the legs of the crowd. He reached the palings and peered through.
Stretched limply on the bank, her hair broken loose, the policeman’s bull’s-eye glaring down on her, was Harriet.
Vashti’s name was never mentioned in connection with the attempted suicide, but he quickly knew that in some mysterious way she was held responsible. When he asked his mother, “Was it because Hal went to America?” she answered him evasively, “Harriet’s a curious girl—not quite normal. That may have had something to do with it.”
For many months, as far as Orchid17 Lodge18 was concerned, Vashti’s memory was a hand clapped over the mouth of laughter. Harriet broke dishes now only by accident and never in temper. She went about her work without singing. Mrs. Sheerug put away her gay green mantle19; after Hal left, she dressed in black. She spoke20 less about men being shiftless creatures. If she caught herself doing it from habit, she stopped sharply, fearing lest she should be suspected of accusing some one man. Her great theme nowadays was the blighting22 influence of selfishness. She was always on the look-out for signs of selfishness in Teddy. Once, at parting with him, she refrained from the usual gift of money, saying, “My dear, beware of selfishness. I’m afraid you come here not because you love me, but for what you can get” She spent much of her time in covering page after page of foreign notepaper in the spare-room where the gilded23 harp21 stood against the window. She did it in the spare-room because, if it so happened that she wanted to cry, no one could see her there. Questioned by careless persons about Hal, she would answer, “He’s gone to America. He’s doing splendidly. He’ll be back some time. No, I can’t say when.”
Her other two children, Ruddy and Madge, didn’t interest her particularly. Ruddy was redheaded and always pulling things to pieces to see how they worked. Madge was twenty, a cross girl who loved animals and pretended to hate men.
When at the end of two months the portrait came back from the gallery, a dispute arose which brought home to Teddy the way in which Vashti was regarded. She had written none of the promised letters, so Jimmie Boy didn’t know her address. He might have asked Mrs. Sheerug, but the matter was too delicate. He made up his mind to hang the picture in his house and had set about doing so, when Dearie put her foot down.
“I won’t have it.”
“But it’s my best work. What’s got into your head, Dearie, to make you so prudish24? You might as well object to all Romney’s Lady Hamiltons because she——”
“Lady Hamilton’s dead. Romney wasn’t my husband, and Nelson’s mother wasn’t my friend.”
Dearie was obstinate25 and so, as though it were something shameful26, Vashti’s portrait was carried down to the stable. There, among the dust and cobwebs, with its face to the wall like a naughty child, The Garden Enclosed was forbidden the sunlight. Only Teddy gave it a respite27 from its penance28 when, having made certain that he was unobserved, he lifted it out to gaze at it. But because she never wrote to him, he went to gaze at it less and less. Little by little she became a beautiful and doubtful memory. He learnt to smile at his wistful faery story, as only a child can smile at his former childishness.
New interests sprang up to claim his attention; the chief of these was a gift from Mr. Sheerug of a pair of pigeons. In giving them to him he explained to Teddy, “My friend, Mr. Ooze—he’s a rum customer—drops his aitches and was born in a hansom cab, but he knows more about pigeons than any man in London. Trains mine for me—goes out into the country and throws ’em up. That’s where he’s gone now. When he lost his precious Henrietta he nearly went off his head. His hobby saved him. A hobby’s a kind of life-preserver—it keeps you afloat when your ship’s gone down.”
His pigeons, more than anything else, helped him to forget Vashti. His soul went with them on their flights through wide clean spaces. The sense gradually grew up within him that she had betrayed him; this was partly due to the hostile way in which she was regarded by others. At the time when she had tampered29 with his power of dreaming he had been without consciousness of sex; but as sex began to stir, he felt a tardy30 resentment31. This was brought to a climax32 by Mr. Yaffon.
Looking from his bedroom window one morning across the neighbors’ walled-in strips of greenness, where crocuses bubbled and young leaves shuddered33, he noticed that in Mr. Yaffon’s garden the parrot had been brought out. It was a sure sign that at last the spring had come. As he watched, Mr. Yaffon pottered into the sunlight to make an inspection34 of his bulbs. Several times he passed near the perch35; each time the parrot jigged36 up and down more violently, screaming, “But I love you. I love you.”
As if unaware37 that he was being taunted38, the old gentleman took no notice. But the parrot had been accustomed to measure success by the fear he inspired. When his master tried neither to appease39 nor escape him he redoubled his efforts, making still more public his shameful imitation of a falsetto voice declaring love.
Mr. Yaffon rose from examining a bed of tulips; blinking his dim eyes, he stood listening, with his head against his shoulder. Deliberately40, without any show of anger, he sauntered up to the parrot, caught him by the neck and wrung41 it. It was so coolly done that it seemed to have been long premeditated. It looked like murder. The gurgling of that thin voice, so like Mr. Yaffon’s, protesting as it sank into the silence, “But I love you. I love you,” gave Teddy the shudders42.
Mr. Yaffon got a spade, dug a hole, and buried the parrot. When he had patted down the mold, he went into the house and returned in a few minutes with a basketful of letters. With the same unhurried purpose, he walked down the path towards his tool-shed, made a pile of dead branches, and set a bonfire going. A breeze which was blowing in gusts43 rescued one of the papers and led Mr. Yaffon a chase across lawns and flower beds. Just as he was on the point of capturing it, the wind lifted it spitefully over the wall into Mr. Gurney’s garden.
Teddy, who had watched these doings with all his curiosity aroused, lost no time in hurrying down from the bedroom. In a lilac bush he found the lost paper. It was a letter, yellowed by age, charred44 with fire and written in a fine Italian hand—a woman’s. It read:
My dear Penny-Whistles,
You don’t like me calling you Penny-Whistles, do you? You mustn’t be angry with me for laughing at your voice: I can laugh and still like you. But can I laugh and still marry you? That’s the question. I’m afraid my sense of humor——
Teddy stopped. He realized that he was spying. He knew at last what Mr. Yaffon had been doing: burning up his dead regrets. The letter had already slipped from his hand, when the ivy45 behind him commenced to rustle46. The top of a ladder appeared above the wall, followed by Mr. Yaffon’s head. It sounded as though the parrot had come to life.
“Little boy,” he said, in his squeaky voice, “a very important letter has—— Ah, there it is. To be sure! Right at your feet, boy. Make yourself tall and I’ll lean down for it. There, we’ve managed it. Thank you.”
When the head and the ladder had vanished, Teddy stood in the sunshine pondering. The spring was stirring. Everything was beginning afresh. Then he, too, lit a fire. When it was crackling merrily, he ran indoors to a cupboard. Standing on a chair, he dragged from a corner a box across whose lid was scrawled47 the one word MARRIAGE. Tucking it under his jacket, he escaped into the garden and rammed48 the box well down into the embers. As he watched it perish, he whispered to himself: “Silly kid—that’s what I was.”
No doubt Mr. Yaffon was telling himself the same thing, only in different language.
Then the child, on his side of the wall, strolled away to dream of pigeons; and the older child, on the other side, stooped above his flowers.
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1
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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3
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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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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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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6
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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7
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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8
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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9
charade
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| n.用动作等表演文字意义的字谜游戏 | |
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10
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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profanely
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| adv.渎神地，凡俗地 | |
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12
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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13
bowler
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| n.打保龄球的人，（板球的）投（球）手 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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15
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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16
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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17
orchid
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| n.兰花，淡紫色 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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19
mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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20
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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harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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22
blighting
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| 使凋萎( blight的现在分词 )； 使颓丧； 损害； 妨害 | |
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23
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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24
prudish
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| adj.装淑女样子的，装规矩的，过分规矩的；adv.过分拘谨地 | |
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25
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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26
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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27
respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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28
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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29
tampered
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| v.窜改( tamper的过去式 )；篡改；（用不正当手段）影响；瞎摆弄 | |
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30
tardy
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| adj.缓慢的，迟缓的 | |
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31
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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32
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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33
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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34
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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35
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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36
jigged
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| v.（使）上下急动( jig的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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37
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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38
taunted
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| 嘲讽( taunt的过去式和过去分词 )； 嘲弄； 辱骂； 奚落 | |
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39
appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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40
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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41
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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42
shudders
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| n.颤动，打颤，战栗( shudder的名词复数 )v.战栗( shudder的第三人称单数 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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43
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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44
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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45
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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46
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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47
scrawled
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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