"Lor'!" said Mrs. Daw, her fat face ashen5 pale, "an' 'e may be lyin' a corp in there, poor dear!"
"Oh, no, he ain't," responded the shaking housemaid; "I 'ear voices. Jus' put your eye to the key-hole, cook."
But the cook's valor6 did not extend thus far. She also heard the murmur7 of voices, and, thinking her master and his friend the Dutchman were within, knocked at the door to bring them out for company. "We may as well go to 'eaven in a 'eap," said Mrs. Daw, knocking steadily8 like a woodpecker.
The door opened so suddenly that the two women recoiled9 with shrieks11 against the wall of the passage. Scarse, looking pale and upset, stepped out and closed the door after him. Judging him by themselves, they attributed his scared appearance to fright at the storm, and were ready to receive any amount of sympathy. But it soon appeared that their master had none to give them.
"What's all this? Why are you here?" he demanded, angry and suspicious.
"It's the storm, sir," whimpered Mrs. Daw, holding on to the housemaid. "I'm that feared as never was. Miss Brenda's hout, sir, and Mr. van Zwieten's with you, and me an' Tilda's a-shakin' like jelly."
"Miss Brenda out!" repeated Scarse, starting. "Oh, yes, I recollect12 she said something about going to the Rectory." This was untrue, but he seemed to think it necessary to make some excuse even to the servants. "I dare say Miss Brenda has been storm-bound there, and, as you say, Mr. van Zwieten is with me. There is nothing to be afraid of. Go back to the kitchen."
"The 'ouse may be struck, sir!
"The house won't be struck," said Scarse, impatiently. "Don't be a fool. It is almost ten o'clock--go to bed," and stepping back into the study, he closed and locked the door. Cook and housemaid tottered13 back to the kitchen.
"I'll give notice to-morrer," wailed14 the former. "It ain't right for two lone15 women to be without a manly16 arm. If 'e only kep' a footman or a coachman it 'ud be a 'elp. 'And me the Church Service, Tilda, an' we'll pray as we may not be took."
"Ow, ain't it orful!" yelped17 Tilda, as a fiercer blast than usual shook the cottage. "Turn up the Berryial Service, cook."
This request the cook hurriedly obeyed, and the two were soon cheerfully employed in drawing what comfort they could from this somewhat depressing selection. The clock struck ten, and so unstrung were their nerves that they simultaneously18 jumped and shrieked19.
Tilda declared that the candle burned blue; that a coal in the form of a coffin20 had jumped out of the kitchen range; and meanwhile the storm raved21 and howled without, shaking the house, tearing at doors and windows as though twenty thousand demons22 were trying to force an entrance. In their terrified frame of mind Mrs. Daw and her factotum23 actually believed that such might be the case.
But they soon had further cause for alarm. The kitchen door was tried, but Mrs. Daw had locked it. Immediately there came a furious knocking, insistent24 and incessant25. Tilda shrieked, and scrambled26 under the table. Mrs. Daw dropped the Church Service, and grasped the poker27 with a trembling hand. There was a crash of thunder which went grinding over the roof--then the battering28 at the door again.
"Quick! Quick! Let me in!" wailed a voice, thin, high-pitched and terrified.
"Don't, don't!" shrieked Tilda, grovelling29 under the table. "Oh, lor', wot a bad girl I 'ave been."
But Mrs. Daw, somewhat recovered from her terror, thought she recognized the voice, in spite of its accent of pain. "Yer's a fool, Tilda. It's Miss Brenda!" and she unlocked the door, still grasping the poker in case she should be mistaken. As the door flew open a wild blast tore into the kitchen, and Tilda shrieked again. Mrs. Daw, too, uttered an exclamation30, for Brenda fell forward, flung into her arms. The girl was soaking wet, wild-eyed and white-faced with terror. She could hardly speak, and clung, choking and shaking, to the terrified cook. The door banged to with a crash.
"Murder! Help!" gasped31 Brenda, hoarsely32. "Oh, my God! he is dead!"
"Dead! Murder!" shrieked Mrs. Daw, dropping the poker, and Tilda wailed in sympathetic chorus. "Lor', miss! Who's 'e?"
"I don't know--he is dead--shot--in the orchards33," said Brenda, and fell down in a dead faint for the second time that night. Usually she was not given to such feminine weakness, but the terrors of the night had proved altogether too much for her.
Having something human to deal with, Mrs. Daw recovered her presence of mind and unloosened Brenda's cloak. "Poor dear! she's frightened out of her wits, an' no wonder. Tilda, tell 'er pa there's murders and faintings. Look sharp!"
Tilda crawled from under the table and across the floor. She raised herself with a sudden effort of will, and was soon hammering at the study door.
"Master--sir! 'Elp--murder--perlice! Oh, sir," as Scarse came out hurriedly, "Miss Brenda's in the kitchen, an' there's murder!"
He seized her wrists with an ejaculation of alarm. "Who is murdered? Speak, girl!"
"I don't know. Miss Brenda sez as there's murder. Oh, lor', what will become of us!"
Scarse shook her so that her teeth chattered34. "Go back to the kitchen," he said sternly. "I'll follow directly," and Tilda found herself hurled35 against the wall, with the study door closed and locked. Her surprise at such treatment overcame even her terror.
"Well, 'e is a father!" she gasped, and her wits being somewhat more agile36 now that she was less afraid, she flew to the dining-room and snatched the spirit-stand from the sideboard. With this she arrived in the kitchen and found Brenda regaining37 her senses.
"Ain't 'e comin'?" asked Mrs. Daw, slapping Brenda's hands violently as a restorative measure.
"In a minute. 'Ere, give 'er some brandy. Where's a glarss? Oh, a cup'll do. Oh, ain't it all dreadful; just 'ear the wind!"
"Hold your tongue and lock the door," said Mrs. Daw, snatching the cup from Tilda. "Come, miss, try and drink this."
She forced the strong spirit down Brenda's throat. The girl gasped and coughed, then the color slowly mounted to her cheeks, and she raised her head feebly.
"What is it?" she asked faintly. Then she shuddered38 and covered her face. "Ah! the murder! Shot!--shot--oh, God, how terrible!"
"Don't you be afraid, miss; the doors are all locked, an' nothin' or no one can git in." Then a shriek10 from Mrs. Daw followed a sudden clanging of the bell. "Whatever's that?"
"Front door," replied Tilda, casting a glance at the row of bells. "I'll answer; give 'er more brandy, cook."
As the housemaid left, Brenda moaned and struggled to her feet. "Oh, the terrible darkness--the body--his body--in the wet grass! Father! Where is my father?"
"'E's a comin', dearie," said Mrs. Daw, giving her more brandy. "Take another sup, dearie. Who is it as is murdered, miss?" she asked in a scared whisper.
"I don't know. I could not see--the darkness--I fell over the body. I saw nothing. Oh!" She started up with a shriek. "Oh, if it really should be Harold!" Then she was overcome with anguish39, and Tilda darted40 back to the kitchen.
"Would you believe," cried she to Mrs. Daw, "it's the furriner! An' master said as 'e was in 'is study talkin' to 'im!"
"Lor', so 'e did!" said Mrs. Daw, awestruck at having detected her master in a lie. "And 'e was out all the time! What does Mr. van Zwieten say, Tilda?"
"Van Zwieten!" shrieked Brenda, who was clinging to the table. "Has he been out? Ah! he hated Harold--the dead man--oh!" her voice leaped an octave, "he has killed my Harold!"
"What!" shrieked the other woman in turn, and Mrs. Daw, throwing her apron41 over her head, began to scream with the full force of her lungs. Tilda joined in, losing all remnant of control, and Brenda sank in a chair white-faced and silent. The conviction that Harold had been murdered stunned42 her.
At this moment there was heard the sound of foot-steps coming rapidly nearer. Scarse, with an angry and terrified expression, appeared on the scene. Close behind him came Van Zwieten, who seemed, as ever, quite undisturbed and master of himself. Brenda caught sight of him, and darting43 forward, seized the man by the lapels of his coat. "Harold!" she cried, "you have killed my Harold!"
"Harold--Burton!" replied Scarse, aghast. "Is he dead?"
"Dead--murdered! Oh, I am certain of it. And you killed him. You! You!"
Van Zwieten said not a word, but remained perfectly44 calm. He saw that the girl was beside herself with terror and grief, that she knew not what she was saying or doing. Without a word he picked her up in his strong arms and carried her moaning and weeping into the drawing-room. Scarse rated Mrs. Daw and Tilda sharply for so losing their heads, and followed the Dutchman. But before leaving the kitchen he was careful to take with him the key of the back door. "No one leaves this house to-night," he said sharply "I must inquire into this. Give me that spirit-stand. Now go to bed, you fools."
"Bed!" wailed Mrs. Daw, as her master left the room. "Lor', I'll never sleep again--not for weeks any'ow. I daren't lie alone. Oh, what an 'orful night. I'll give notice to-morrow, that for sure!"
"So'll I," squeaked45 Tilda. With this the two went shivering to a common couch, full of prayers and terror, and prepared to die--if die they must--in company.
In the drawing-room Brenda was huddled46 up in a chair, terrified out of her wits. Van Zwieten, calm and masterful, stood before the fireplace with his big hands clasped loosely before him. His trousers were turned up, his boots were soaking, and there were raindrops in his curly hair. For the rest he was dry, and the storm had not made the slightest impress on his strong nerves. When Scarse entered he threw a steely and inquisitive47 glance at the old man, who winced48 and shrank back with an expression of fear on his face. Van Zwieten, ever on the alert for the signs of a guilty conscience, noted49 this with secret satisfaction.
"Now then, Brenda," said her father, recovering at last some of his presence of mind, "what is all this about? You say that Burton is dead--that Mr. van Zwieten killed him."
"Ah!" interposed the Dutchman, stroking his beard, "I should like to know how I managed that."
"You hated him!" cried Brenda, sitting up straight with a sudden access of vigor50. "You told me so to-night at dinner!"
"Pardon me; I said I did not like Captain Burton. But as to hating him--" Van Zwieten shrugged51 his shoulders; "that is an extreme word to use. But even if I did hate him you can hardly deduce from that that I should kill him!"
"He was shot, shot in the orchards, not far from the Manor52 gates. You were out----"
"That is scant53 evidence to justify54 a charge of murder," interposed Scarce, angrily. "You are unstrung and hysterical55, Brenda. How did you come to be out yourself in such a storm?"
"I went to see Lady Jenny at the Manor, about--about Harold's money. She was not in, so I came back by the short cut through the orchards. A flash of lightning showed him to me there, standing56 under a tree. Then there was a shot and a cry, and I ran forward, and fell over his body."
"Whose body?"
"I don't know--at least, I think it was Harold's body. Mr. van Zwieten hated him."
"It may not be Harold at all," said her father, impatiently; "you are jumping to conclusions--the wildest conclusions, Brenda. Did you see his face?"
"No; how could I? It was dark."
"Then how on earth do you know it was Captain Burton?"
"I am not sure, of course; but I think so. Oh, father, do you think---- Oh, perhaps, after all, it may not have been Harold."
Scarse shook off her clinging hands. "I think you're a fool," he said sharply, "and this wild talk of Burton's being dead is pure imagination on your part."
"I hope so--oh, how I hope so!" and Brenda shivered.
Van Zwieten, who had been listening with a cynical57 smile on his face, burst into a laugh, at which Brenda looked angrily at him. "Excuse me, Miss Scarse," he said politely, "but it is my opinion no one is dead at all. The shot and cry were no doubt the outcome of a thundercrash. You were upset by the storm, and it seemed to you like--what you say."
"But a man is dead," protested Brenda, rising. "In my anxiety for Harold I may have been mistaken in thinking it was he. Still, some one was shot--I fell over the body and fainted."
"The man may have fainted also," suggested her father.
"If I may make a suggestion," said Van Zwieten, with strong common sense, "we are all talking without any reasonable sort of basis. Before we assume that a crime has been committed, I would suggest that we go to the orchards and see if we can find the body."
"No, no," cried Scarse, shrinking back. "Impossible at this hour, and on such a night."
"The storm is dying away," said the Dutchman, derisively58. "However, if you don't care to come, I can go myself."
"I will go with you," cried Brenda, springing to her feet.
"For you, Miss Scarse, I think it is hardly wise. You are very much upset. Had you not better go to bed?"
"I couldn't sleep with this on my mind. I must know if it is Harold or not. If it is, I am certain you shot him, and until I know the truth I don't let you out of my sight."
"Very good." Van Zwieten bowed and smiled. "Come, then, and guide me."
"Brenda, you can't go out now. I forbid you--it is not fit or proper."
"What do I care for propriety59 in such a case as this?" cried Brenda, in a passion. "Come with me then, father."
"No, I can't--I am too ill."
Van Zwieten cast an amused look at Scarse, and the old man winced again. He turned away and poured himself out a glass of brandy. Without taking any further notice of him, Brenda put on her wet cloak and left the room, followed almost immediately by the Dutchman. Van Zwieten had many questions to ask his host, for he knew a good deal, and guessed more; but this was not the time for cross-examination. It was imperative60 that the identity of the deceased should be ascertained61, and Van Zwieten wished to be on the spot when the discovery was made. As he left the room he heard the glass in Scarse's trembling hand clink against the decanter, and the sound made him smile. He guessed the cause of such perturbation.
The rain had ceased for the moment, but the wind was still high, and dense62 black clouds hurtled across the sky. A pale moon showed herself every now and then from behind the flying wrack63, and fitfully lighted the midnight darkness.
As she was with Van Zwieten, Brenda took a wide circle through the village street. There were many people about in spite of the bad weather--some with lanterns--but Brenda could not gather from the scraps64 of conversation she heard whether the report of the dead man lying in the orchards had got abroad.
In silence Van Zwieten strode along beside her, apparently65 indifferent to anything. His attitude irritated the girl, and when the wind lulled66 for a moment she demanded sharply where he had been on that night.
"You will be surprised to hear, Miss Scarse, that I went to see Captain Burton."
"And why?" asked Brenda, taken aback by this answer--the last she had expected to hear.
"To warn him," replied Van Zwieten, coolly. "Warn him--about what--against whom?"
"About my engagement to you--against myself."
"I am not engaged to you, but to him," said Brenda, almost with a cry of despair.
It seemed impossible to make this man understand how she hated him.
"I think you are engaged to me," said the Dutchman, deliberately67. "You say no, but that is girl's talk. I am not to be beaten by a girl. I always get what I want, and I want you."
The wind rose again, and further conversation was impossible. Brenda walked on, praying for strength to escape this terrible man. She could not rid herself of the idea that the dead man was her own true lover. Van Zwieten might have seen him, as he said, might have quarreled with him and shot him. The fear chilled her heart, and when next the wind fell she again taxed Van Zwieten. "You killed him?" she cried.
"You will insist on that, but you are wrong. I never saw Captain Burton. He was not at the inn when I called."
"He had gone to town," said Brenda, breathless with joy.
"No, he had gone to the Rectory."
Brenda stopped short. Lady Jenny had gone to the Rectory also. Perhaps Harold had seen her, and had asked for her aid. While she was wondering if this might be so, there was a great shouting, and in the distance she saw the blaze of torches borne by many people. The wind made them flare68 furiously.
"Ach!" said Van Zwieten under his breath, "they know now."
In the high wind Brenda did not hear him. Guessing that the concourse meant the discovery of the body, she flew along the road like a lapwing. The procession was coming toward the Manor gates from the direction of the orchards. Some men were shouting, some women screaming, but the solid group surrounded by the red, smoking lights remained silent. Van Zwieten followed noiselessly, and reached the group almost as soon as Brenda.
"You see," he breathed in the girl's ear, "he is alive!"
Brenda gave a cry of joy and flung herself into the arms of the foremost man.
"Harold! Harold! Thank God you are safe!"
"Brenda! What are you doing here? Go back! go back!"
"No, no. Tell me who--who is dead. Who has been murdered?"
Seeing she knew so much, Harold signed to the men carrying the body to stop. They set down the gate on which it rested.
"Malet!" cried Brenda, as she recognized the features of the corpse69. "It is Mr. Malet!"
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收听单词发音
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1
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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ashen
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| adj.灰的 | |
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valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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8
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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9
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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tottered
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| v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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factotum
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| n.杂役；听差 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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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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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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29
grovelling
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| adj.卑下的，奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节，奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 )；趴 | |
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30
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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31
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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chattered
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| （人）喋喋不休( chatter的过去式 )； 唠叨； （牙齿）打战； （机器）震颤 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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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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39
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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40
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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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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43
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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44
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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45
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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46
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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48
winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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50
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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51
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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52
manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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53
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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54
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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55
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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56
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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57
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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derisively
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| adv. 嘲笑地，嘲弄地 | |
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59
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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60
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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61
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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63
wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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64
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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65
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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66
lulled
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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67
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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68
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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69
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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