[317]
There was no great harm done, and Trafford picked himself up, shook himself, and mounted again. But by this time the pair he was pursuing had completely vanished and had left no clew behind them. His horse, though uninjured by its fall, was not rendered more cheerful by the mishap3, and did not evince any very great interest in the proceedings4, but went along rather sullenly5 for a time. Presently, however, he pricked6 up his ears and quickened his pace. It was evident that he had been made aware, either by the sense of smell or hearing, of the proximity7 of some human being or friendly animal.
Trafford, quivering with excitement and a mixture of emotions, let the horse have its head, and the animal trotted8 quickly down the slope to the valley below. At a sudden bend in the track—if it could be called track—Trafford caught sight of a small stream, the ground near which had been broken and disturbed by the hand of man. He conjectured9 that this must be the site of an abandoned camp or gold-digging, and the conjecture10 proved correct, for he came presently upon a ruined hut standing11 amidst some deserted12 claims.
He pulled up, or rather the horse stopped of its own accord, and Trafford looked round. He appeared to be alone, amidst the débris of the camp. Here and there were signs of life and activity which had ebbed13 away; a broken wheelbarrow, a rusty14 pick, shovels15 bent16 and twisted, and planks17 half hidden by the weeds that had grown round them, lay about in dismal18 confusion. The whole place, with its air of desertion, was weird19 and depressing, and Trafford, in his weary and high-strung condition, could scarcely repress a shudder20. He wondered why the horse had brought him there, for though he listened intently and looked about him keenly, he could neither see nor hear any sign of the presence of any human being save himself.
He dismounted, and loosely fastening the bridle21 to a tree, so that the horse could feed, entered the hut. It was in ruins, and looked as if it had been left hastily. Trafford half hoped that he might find some remnant of food, but there was nothing of the kind. He went down to the stream and got a drink of water, and threw himself down to wait until the horse had rested and he could resume his journey.
He felt that he would be wise to remain the night there, but the place depressed22 him, and it seemed to him that he could know no rest until he had found Norman and Esmeralda. He lay, with his head upon his hand, watching the horse and still[318] feeling half stupefied, when suddenly he knew that something alive was approaching him. It was dusk now, it would soon be dark. He peered into the shadow of the bush from whence the sound came, and his hand sought his revolver. A moment or two later a tall, well-built figure emerged from the bush and approached the hut, a horse followed at a little distance with drooping23 head, as if too weary for anything save following in his master’s footsteps.
Varley, for it was he, walked to the hut and entered.
He came out a moment afterward24, and Trafford, who could now see his face plainly, was struck by its well-bred air as well as by its pallor and the expression of stern resolution which seemed to mask anxiety.
Varley looked round about him searchingly, then sunk on to the upturned wheelbarrow, sighed, and removing his hat, wiped the perspiration26 from his brow. He had all the appearance of waiting for some one.
Trafford watched him closely, and he felt convinced that this man was neither a bushranger nor a common digger. At this moment Trafford’s horse neighed a greeting to Varley’s, and Varley sprung to his feet.
Trafford, knowing that concealment27 was no longer possible, rose and walked toward the hut. At the sound of his footsteps, Varley turned and confronted him.
He had expected to see Simon, and he stared at Trafford with surprise for a moment, as if too astonished to speak. Then he raised his hat, and said, in a voice husky with the dust of the long journey, but with his usual languid manner:
“Good-evening.”
Trafford raised his hat in response.
“Good-evening,” he said.
The two men stood looking at each other as two men meeting, perfect strangers and in such a place, must necessarily look; and though neither touched his revolver, each was ready to draw and fire.
It seemed to Trafford that he had seen the tall, well-knit figure before, but he did not identify it, for the moment, with the horseman Johnson, the driver, had pointed28 out.
He was the first to speak; the silence between them was becoming unendurable.
“I am a stranger here,” he said, “and I have lost my way.”
Varley glanced round.
“That is not at all difficult,” he said.
“No,” assented29 Trafford. “What place is this?”
[319]
“It is called Raven30 Claim,” answered Varley.
As he spoke31, it flashed across his mind that Simon had stipulated32 that only one person should be sent with the ransom33. No doubt he had Esmeralda concealed34 somewhere near, and was waiting to see what the presence of two men meant.
He, Varley, must get rid of this stranger as quickly as possible.
“May I ask what place you were making for?” he said.
“Three Star Camp,” replied Trafford.
Varley did not start, but he glanced keenly from under his long lashes35 at the worn and weary face.
“Three Star Camp?” he repeated. “You are a long way from there.”
“I feared so,” said Trafford.
“Yes,” said Varley. “Are you anxious to reach it to-night?”
He looked, as he spoke, at the dust-stained figure and pale face.
“I am very anxious to do so,” said Trafford. “I wish to reach it at the first possible moment, and I shall be extremely obliged if you will direct me.”
“It is not easy to direct you,” said Varley, “but I will endeavor to do so. You appear to have had a long ride?”
“I have,” said Trafford, “and I am almost knocked up; but I must reach Three Star to-night.”
Varley drew a silver flask36 from his pocket and held it out.
“Will you have a drink?” he said.
Trafford took it gratefully.
“Don’t spare it,” said Varley; and he rolled up a cigarette and watched Trafford, who had seated himself upon the trunk of a felled tree, and was sipping37 the spirit as a tired man sips38 who is seeking a stimulant39 and tonic40 to enable him to undergo fresh exertion41.
“Will you have a cigarette?” asked Varley in his slow and languid way.
“Thank you,” said Trafford, with a faint smile. “I think that will do me as much good as your excellent whisky.”
Varley handed him the pouch42 and paper, but Trafford’s hands were shaking, and Varley, saying, “Permit me,” took them from him and rolled a cigarette, offering his own for a light, and watched Trafford smoke, with that sense of satisfaction which we all feel when we are playing the part of the Good Samaritan.
“I am very grateful to you,” said Trafford, after a silence,[320] broken only by the breathing of the two horses and the shrill43 cry of a bird fishing in the stream. “May I ask your name?”
“My name is Howard—Varley Howard,” said Varley.
Trafford started, with his cigarette half-way to his mouth.
“Varley Howard?” he echoed. “Of Three Star Camp?”
“Of Three Star Camp, and very much at your service,” said Varley, with his little drawl. “May I ask the same question?”
Trafford rose.
“My name is Belfayre,” he said.
Varley’s fingers closed over his cigarette, and the red flamed in his face for a second, to leave it deathly pale.
“The Duke of Belfayre?” he said in a perfectly44 expressionless voice.
“Yes; I am the Duke of Belfayre,” said Trafford.
There was a moment’s silence, Varley breathing hard and looking just above Trafford’s head. The blood was beginning to burn in his veins45 as Esmeralda’s wrongs rose before him. This man standing there was the man who had deceived her and wrecked46 the child’s life.
“It seems I am not unknown to you, Mr. Howard.”
Varley drew a long breath.
“You are not,” he said. “I have heard of you. Will you think me impertinently inquisitive47 if I ask your business in Three Star?”
The blood began to mount to Trafford’s face.
“You have every right to ask me that question, Mr. Howard. It is my duty to answer. I have come in search of my wife.”
“My ward25—adopted daughter?”
Trafford inclined his head.
“Yes; I am in search of her, Mr. Howard,” he said.
“What do you want with her?” asked Varley; and if Trafford had known him he would have recognized the ominous48 significance of his quiet, languid tone.
It was a strange question to put to a husband, and for a moment Trafford could find no answer.
“Surely that lies between her and me,” he said at last.
Varley’s dark eyes flashed.
“Pardon me,” he said, with frigid49 courtesy. “My ward has left you; she is under my protection.”
Trafford’s eyes flashed across to the other man.
“Yes, she has left me,” he repeated; “but I am desirous[321] of finding her, and I am going to Three Star for that purpose.”
“You will waste your time,” said Varley. “She is not there.”
“That is a lie!” said Trafford, deliberately51.
Varley’s hand went to his revolver; but he checked himself, and, with a smile which would have made any man who knew him tremble, raised his hat an inch or two.
“Your grace is polite,” he said.
“I spoke the truth,” said Trafford. “When she left England and me she fled to Three Star with a man who had stolen her from me.”
“Permit me to repeat your elegant retort, and remark, ‘That is a lie!’” said Varley.
“It is the truth,” said Trafford. “I have seen them here—together.”
Varley raised his brows.
“You appear to be laboring52 under a strange delusion53, your grace,” he said, with sardonic54 courtesy. “You appear, also, to forget that, though Esmeralda is, or was, your wife, she was, and still is, my ward, and that I have the right to repel55 any false accusation56 you make against her.”
Trafford looked at him without speaking for a moment; then he said, hoarsely57:
“When I say that she has come to Three Star with a man with whom she fled from me, I speak the truth, and you know it. I have seen them together.”
“And I say again—you lie!” said Varley. “Esmeralda came to Three Star to claim my protection from the man who had married her and betrayed her. Stop—do not speak! It is my call, I believe. I have wanted to meet you very badly, my lord duke. I have had something on my mind that I wanted to say to you, and Providence58 has granted my wish. You will have to listen to what I have to say. My child”—his cool, almost nonchalant voice very nearly broke—“Esmeralda, left me and the people among whom she had been brought up, and who loved her, in a way that you could scarcely understand, a happy, light-hearted girl. She went to England and met you and your kind, and you took advantage of her innocence59 and her ignorance of your world, and tricked and trapped her as we over here trick and entrap60 some wild and helpless bird. You married her for her money; you cared nothing for her. No doubt you made a jest of your success and laughed among yourselves. Having[322] got possession of her money, you lost no time in breaking her heart.”
Trafford stood rigid50 and motionless, the big drops of sweat gathering61 on his brow.
“But you were not satisfied with that; you must needs cover her with shame and dishonor. You accuse her of being a vile62 and abandoned woman, and you come here to press your charge and torment63 her further. My lord duke, you could not have come to a better place. If you had searched the world over you could not have found a man better fitted to thrust the lie down your throat. Esmeralda has been to me like a daughter of my own. I know what she was; I know what she is—the purest and best of women—and I tell you that you are a liar64 and a scoundrel!”
Trafford extended his hand half imploringly65, half defiantly66.
“Wait!” he said, hoarsely. “Listen to me. I—I can bear with you—”
Varley laughed.
“Bear with me!”
“Yes. For you have loved her as I loved her until—until she was false to me.”
“False to you?” echoed Varley. “If she had been, it was no more than you deserved. But I will answer for her purity with my last breath. I know nothing of her story; I have never asked her, and she has never told me, but I would believe her word against all the dukes in Christendom. You married her for her money; you have broken her heart; you have followed her here to inflict67 further torture upon her. My lord duke, you have gone a step too far. You have to deal with me, Varley Howard, her guardian68, the man who has loved her as a father, who will stand up for her truth and innocence against a world of d——d dukes!”
Trafford again made a gesture, half of entreaty69, half of defiance70.
Varley caught his breath.
“Ever since she came back to Three Star, I have longed to meet you. I have lain awake, tortured by the desire to grasp you by the throat and call you to account. I am not a religious man, but I have prayed, actually prayed for this hour. And it has come!”
Trafford stood erect71 and fearless, the blood surging in his face. The two men gazed at each other, watching each other as two wild animals might watch before the struggle of life and death.
Varley was the first to recover his composure.
[323]
“I have said my say, your grace,” he said, with a return to his old languid sang-froid. “I imagine that you have nothing to say in response, and that you plead guilty. I suppose in your world a woman’s heart counts for little, and that, if you break it, a graceful72 apology is considered all that is necessary. Out here, in this wild, God-forsaken place, we judge differently. We hold that a woman’s broken heart demands some reparation—and punishment. I demand that reparation and penalty. You and I, my lord duke, have a long and bitter account to settle. We will settle it here and now, if you please.”
Trafford looked at him with knit brows.
“What do you mean?” he asked, hoarsely.
“I mean,” said Varley, attempting to roll a cigarette but failing, “I mean that only one of us shall leave this place alive. You are a gentleman and a nobleman, and therefore, I presume, a good shot. I also am accounted a fair one. We are therefore equal. We will measure out twenty paces—and fight at that.”
As he spoke, he drew his revolver from his belt and examined it with almost a listless air. It seemed as if in his own mind he were quite sure that he should exact the full penalty he deemed payable73.
Trafford stood stock-still for a moment, then he too drew his revolver.
As Varley turned to measure the distance, a man came from behind the hut. It was Simon. He stood and stared at the other two with undisguised astonishment74. Varley nodded to him.
“Where is Esmeralda?” he asked.
“Escaped,” said Simon, coolly.
Varley expressed no astonishment, but a faint smile flashed for a moment over his face.
“You Dog’s Ear men are unlucky,” he said. “I’ve brought the money; but if she’s gone you can’t claim it.”
“That’s so,” said Simon, with the phlegm of his kind. “But what does this mean?” and he looked curiously75 from Trafford to Howard.
Varley smiled.
“This gentleman and I have met and had a little difference,” he said. “And we have decided76 to settle it here and now. You have come just in time, and can act as umpire.”
Simon looked confused and bewildered for a moment. Then his face cleared. For a fight of any kind, with or without[324] weapons, is always a precious thing to a man, wild or tame.
“Is that so?” he said, addressing Trafford.
“It is so,” said Varley; “you may take my word for it. Measure out twenty paces, will you?”
Simon strode twenty paces, and the two men took up their positions.
Varley tossed his silk handkerchief to Simon.
“Count three and throw it in the air,” he said. “You understand?” he added, addressing Trafford.
Trafford inclined his head. He scarcely realized what was happening, and yet he felt the rude justice of it. It was true that he had married Esmeralda for her money, and, so far, Varley Howard was only exacting77 his right.
Well, so be it. As for him, Trafford, now that he had lost Esmeralda, death would be welcome.
He looked at his revolver, braced78 himself to the occasion, as the French say, and stood pale and erect. He knew what he intended to do: he would fire above Varley’s head.
“Are you ready?” asked Simon, with the handkerchief in his hand.
“Quite ready,” responded Varley in his most languid tones.
“I am ready,” said Trafford, hoarsely.
Simon looked from one to the other.
“Can’t this be settled?” he asked.
“No!” said Varley, sternly. “This man and I have got a long account to square.”
“All right!” said Simon, phlegmatically79. “One, two, three!”
As he uttered the word “three,” Esmeralda rode down through the bush. She pulled up almost within reach of the combatants, sat for an instant as if turned to stone, then flung herself from her horse and upon Trafford’s breast.
At that same moment Simon dropped the fatal handkerchief, and Varley fired.
A cry, a sob80, went up to Heaven, and Trafford, who had not fired at all, was in time to catch Esmeralda’s sinking form to his heart.
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收听单词发音
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1
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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locomotion
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| n.运动，移动 | |
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mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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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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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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conjectured
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| 推测，猜测，猜想( conjecture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conjecture
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| n./v.推测，猜测 | |
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11
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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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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13
ebbed
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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shovels
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| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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planks
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| （厚）木板( plank的名词复数 )； 政纲条目，政策要点 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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shudder
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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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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stipulated
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| vt.& vi.规定；约定adj.[法]合同规定的 | |
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ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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sips
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| n.小口喝，一小口的量( sip的名词复数 )v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的第三人称单数 ) | |
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stimulant
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| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
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tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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pouch
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| n.小袋，小包，囊状袋；vt.装...入袋中，用袋运输；vi.用袋送信件 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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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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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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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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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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53
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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entrap
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| v.以网或陷阱捕捉，使陷入圈套 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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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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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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entreaty
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| n.恳求，哀求 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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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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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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payable
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| adj.可付的，应付的，有利益的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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braced
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| adj.拉牢的v.支住( brace的过去式和过去分词 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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phlegmatically
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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