IN WHICH SOME LIGHT IS THROWN ON THE PLOT OF THIS HISTORY
JUNE, July, and August are past away, and September, with all its autumnal beauties, ushers1 in, without bringing anything to lighten the cares of that girl whose father yet pines in prison. She looks forward, hoping against hope, to the return of her lover (something tells her he still lives), only to feel more keenly the pangs2 of hope deferred3.
And now, once more, New York, we are in thy busy streets. It is a pleasant evening in early September. The soft rays of an autumn sun are tinging4 the western sky, and night is fast drawing her sable5 mantle6 over the scene. In Washington Square, near where the tiny fountain jets its stream into a round, grassy-bordered basin, there sits a man of middle stature7, apparently8 in deep study. His dress is plain, and might be taken for that of either a working man, or a somewhat faded inspector9 of customs. Heedless of those passing to and fro, he sits until night fairly sets in, then rises, and faces towards the East. Through the trunks of trees he sees, and seems contemplating10 the gray walls of the University, and the bold, sombre front of the very aristocratic church of the Reformed Dutch.
"Well!" he mutters to himself, resuming his seat, and again facing to the west, "this ere business of ourn is a great book of life-'tis that! Finds us in queer places; now and then mixed up curiously11." He rises a second time, advances to a gas-light, draws a letter from his pocket, and scans, with an air of evident satisfaction, over the contents. "Umph!" he resumes, and shrugs13 his shoulders, "I was right on the address-ought to have known it without looking." Having resumed his seat, he returns the letter to his pocket, sits with his elbow upon his knee, and his head rested thoughtfully in his right hand. The picture before him, so calm and soft, has no attractions for him. The dusky hues14 of night, for slowly the scene darkens, seem lending a softness and calmness to the foliage15. The weeping branches of the willow16, interspersed17 here and there, as if to invest the picture with a touching18 melancholy19, sway gently to and fro; the leaves of the silvery poplar tremble and reflect their shadows on the fresh waters; and the flitting gas-lights mingle20 their gleams, play and sport over the rippled21 surface, coquet with the tripping star-beams, then throw fantastic lights over the swaying foliage; and from beneath the massive branches of trees, there shines out, in bold relief, the marble porticoes22 and lintels of stately--looking mansions23. Such is the calm grandeur25 of the scene, that one could imagine some Thalia investing it with a poetic26 charm the gods might muse27 over.
"It is not quite time yet," says the man, starting suddenly to his feet. He again approaches a gas-light, looks attentively28 at his watch, then saunters to the corner of Fourth and Thompson streets. An old, dilapidated wooden building, which some friend has whitewashed29 into respectability, and looking as if it had a strong inclination30 to tumble either upon the sidewalk, or against the great trunk of a hoary-headed tree at the corner, arrests his attention. "Well," he says, having paused before it, and scanned its crooked31 front, "this surely is the house where the woman lived when she was given the child. Practice, and putting two things together to find what one means, is the great thing in our profession. Like its old tenant32, the house has got down a deal. It's on its last legs." Again he consults his watch, and with a quickened step recrosses the Square, and enters -- Avenue. Now he halts before a spacious33 mansion24, the front of which is high and bold, and deep, and of brown freestone. The fluted34 columns; the elegantly-chiselled35 lintels; the broad, scrolled36 window-frames; the exactly-moulded arches; the massive steps leading to the deep, vaulted38 entrance, with its doors of sombre and highly-polished walnut39; and its bold style of architecture, so grand in its outlines,--all invest it with a regal air. The man casts a glance along the broad avenue, then into the sombre entrance of the mansion. Now he seems questioning within himself whether to enter or retrace40 his steps. One-half of the outer door, which is in the Italian style, with heavy fluted mouldings, stands ajar; while from out the lace curtains of the inner, there steals a faint light. The man rests his elbow on the great stone scroll37 of the guard-rail, and here we leave him for a few moments.
The mansion, it may be well to add here, remains41 closed the greater part of the year; and when opened seems visited by few persons, and those not of the very highest standing42 in society. A broken-down politician, a seedy hanger-on of some "literary club," presided over by a rich, but very stupid tailor, and now and then a lady about whose skirts something not exactly straight hangs, and who has been elbowed out of fashionable society for her too ardent43 love of opera-singers, and handsome actors, may be seen dodging44 in now and then. Otherwise, the mansion would seem very generally deserted45 by the neighborhood.
Everybody will tell you, and everybody is an individual so extremely busy in other people's affairs, that he ought to know, that there is something that hangs so like a rain-cloud about the magnificent skirts of those who live so secluded46 "in that fine old pile," (mansion,) that the virtuous47 satin of the Avenue never can be got to "mix in." Indeed, the Avenue generally seems to have set its face against those who reside in it. They enjoy none of those very grand assemblies, balls, and receptions, for which the Avenue is become celebrated48, and yet they luxuriate in wealth and splendor49.
Though the head of the house seems banished50 by society, society makes her the subject of many evil reports and mysterious whisperings. The lady of the mansion, however, as if to retort upon her traducers, makes it known that she is very popular abroad, every now and then during her absence honoring them with mysterious clippings from foreign journals-all setting forth51 the admiration52 her appearance called forth at a grand reception given by the Earl and Countess of --.
Society is made of inexorable metal, she thinks, for the prejudices of the neighborhood have not relaxed one iota53 with time. That she has been presented to kings, queens, and emperors; that she has enjoyed the hospitalities of foreign embassies; that she has (and she makes no little ado that she has) shone in the assemblies of prime ministers; that she has been invited to court concerts, and been the flattered of no end of fashionable coteries54, serves her nothing at home. They are events, it must be admitted, much discussed, much wondered at, much regretted by those who wind themselves up in a robe of stern morality. In a few instances they are lamented55, lest the morals and manners of those who make it a point to represent us abroad should reflect only the brown side of our society.
As if with regained56 confidence, the man, whom we left at the door scroll, is seen slowly ascending57 the broad steps. He enters the vaulted vestibule, and having touched the great, silver bell-knob of the inner door, stands listening to the tinkling58 chimes within. A pause of several minutes, and the door swings cautiously open. There stands before him the broad figure of a fussy59 servant man, wedged into a livery quite like that worn by the servants of an English tallow-chandler, but which, it must be said, and said to be regretted, is much in fashion with our aristocracy, who, in consequence of its brightness, belive it the exact style of some celebrated lord. The servant receives a card from the visitor, and with a bow, inquires if he will wait an answer.
"I will wait the lady's pleasure-I came by appointment," returns the man. And as the servant disappears up the hall, he takes a seat, uninvited, upon a large settee, in carved walnut. "Something mysterious about this whole affair!" he muses60, scanning along the spacious hall, into the conservatory61 of statuary and rare plants, seen opening away at the extreme end. The high, vaulted roof; the bright, tesselated floor; the taste with which the frescoes62 decorating the walls are designed; the great winding63 stairs, so richly carpeted-all enhanced in beauty by the soft light reflected upon them from a massive chandelier of stained glass, inspire him with a feeling of awe64. The stillness, and the air of grandeur pervading65 each object that meets his eye, reminds him of the halls of those medi?val castles he has read of in his youth. The servant returns, and makes his bow. "My leady," he says, in a strong Lincolnshire brogue, "as weated ye an 'our or more."
The visitor, evincing some nervousness, rises quickly to his feet, follows the servant up the hall, and is ushered66 into a parlor67 of regal dimensions, on the right. His eye falls upon one solitary68 occupant, who rises from a lounge of oriental richness, and advances towards him with an air of familiarity their conditions seem not to warrant. Having greeted the visitor, and bid him be seated (he takes his seat, shyly, beside the door), the lady resumes her seat in a magnificent chair. For a moment the visitor scans over the great parlor, as if moved by the taste and elegance69 of everything that meets his eye. The hand of art has indeed been lavishly70 laid on the decorations of this chamber71, which presents a scene of luxury princes might revel72 in. And though the soft wind of whispering silks seemed lending its aid to make complete the enjoyment73 of the occupant, it might be said, in the words of Crabbe:
"But oh, what storm was in that mind!"
The person of the lady is in harmony with the splendor of the apartment. Rather tall and graceful74 of figure, her complexion75 pale, yet soft and delicate, her features as fine and regular as ever sculptor76 chiselled, her manner gentle and womanly. In her face, nevertheless, there is an expression of thoughtfulness, perhaps melancholy, to which her large, earnest black eyes, and finely-arched brows, fringed with dark lashes77, lend a peculiar78 charm. While over all there plays a shadow of languor79, increased perhaps by the tinge80 of age, or a mind and heart overtaxed with cares.
"I received your note, which I hastened to answer. Of course you received my answer. I rejoice that you have persevered81, and succeeded in finding the object I have so long sought. Not hearing from you for so many weeks, I had begun to fear she had gone forever," says the lady, in a soft, musical voice, raising her white, delicate hand to her cheek, which is suffused82 with blushes.
"I had myself almost given her over, for she disappeared from the Points, and no clue could be got of her," returns the man, pausing for a moment, then resuming his story. "A week ago yesterday she turned up again, and I got wind that she was in a place we call 'Black-beetle Hole'--"
"Black-beetle Hole!" ejaculates the lady, whom the reader will have discovered is no less a person than Madame Montford. Mr. Detective Fitzgerald is the visitor.
"Yes, there's where she's got, and it isn't much of a place, to say the best. But when a poor creature has no other place to get a stretch down, she stretches down there--"
"Proceed to how you found her, and what you have got from her concerning the child," the lady interrupts, with a deep sigh.
"Well," proceeds the detective, "I meets-havin' an eye out all the while-Sergeant Dobbs one morning-Dobbs knows every roost in the Points better than me!--and says he, 'Fitzgerald, that are woman, that crazy woman, you've been in tow of so long, has turned up. There was a row in Black-beetle Hole last night. I got a force and descended83 into the place, found it crammed84 with them half-dead kind of women and men, and three thieves, what wanted to have a fuss with the hag that keeps it. One on 'em was thrashing the poor crazy woman. They had torn all the rags off her back. Howsever, if you wants to fish her out, you'd better be spry about it-'"
The lady interrupts by saying she will disguise, and with his assistance, go bring her from the place-save her! Mr. Fitzgerald begs she will take the matter practically. She could not breathe the air of the place, he says.
"'Thank you Dobbs,' says I," he resumes, "and when it got a bit dark I went incog. to Black-beetle's Hole--"
"And where is this curious place?" she questions, with an air of anxiety.
"As to that, Madame-well, you wouldn't know it was lived in, because its underground, and one not up to the entrance never would think it led to a place where human beings crawled in at night. I don't wonder so many of 'em does things what get 'em into the Station, and after that treated to a short luxury on the Island. As I was goin' on to say, I got myself fortified85, started out into the Points, and walked-we take these things practically-down and up the east sidewalk, then stopped in front of the old rotten house that Black-beetle Hole is under. Then I looks down the wet little stone steps, that ain't wide enough for a big man to get down, and what lead into the cellar. Some call it Black-beetle Hole, and then again some call it the Hole of the Black-beetles. 'Yer after no good, Mr. Fitzgerald,' says Mrs. McQuade, whose husband keeps the junk-shop over the Hole, putting her malicious86 face out of the window.
"'You're the woman I want, Mrs. McQuade,' says I. 'Don't be puttin' your foot in the house,' says she. And when I got her temper a little down by telling her I only wanted to know who lived in the Hole, she swore by all the saints it had niver a soul in it, and was hard closed up. Being well up to the dodges87 of the Points folks, I descended the steps, and gettin' underground, knocked at the Hole door, and then sent it smash in. 'Well! who's here?' says I. 'It's me,' says Mrs. Lynch, a knot of an old woman, who has kept the Hole for many years, and says she has no fear of the devil."
Madame Montford listens with increasing anxiety; Mr. Detective Fitzgerald proceeds: "'Get a light here, then;' says I. You couldn't see nothing, it was so dark, but you could hear 'em move, and breathe. And then the place was so hot and sickly. Had to stand it best way I could. There was no standing straight in the dismal88 place, which was wet and nasty under foot, and not more nor twelve by fourteen. The old woman said she had only a dozen lodgers89 in; when she made out to get a light for me I found she had twenty-three, tucked away here and there, under straw and stuff. Well, it was curious to see 'em (here the detective wipes his forehead with his handkerchief) rise up, one after another, all round you, you know, like fiends that had been buried for a time, then come to life merely to get something to eat."
"And did you find the woman-and was she one of them?"
"That's what I'm comin' at. Well, I caught a sight at the woman; knew her at the glance. I got a sight at her one night in the Pit at the House of the Nine Nations. 'Here! I wants you,' says I, takin' what there was left of her by the arm. She shrieked90, and crouched91 down, and begged me not to hurt her, and looked wilder than a tiger at me. And then the whole den12 got into a fright, and young women, and boys, and men-they were all huddled92 together-set up such a screaming. 'Munday!' says I, 'you don't go to the Tombs-here! I've got good news for you.' This quieted her some, and then I picked her up-she was nearly naked-and seeing she wanted scrubbing up, carried her out of the Hole, and made her follow me to my house, where we got her into some clothes, and seeing that she was got right in her mind, I thought it would be a good time to question her."
"If you will hasten the result of your search, it will, my good sir, relieve my feelings much!" again interposes the lady, drawing her chair nearer the detective.
"'You've had,' I says to her, 'a hard enough time in this world, and now here's the man what's going to be a friend to ye-understand that!' says I, and she looked at me bewildered. We gave her something to eat, and a pledge that no one would harm her, and she tamed down, and began to look up a bit. 'Your name wasn't always Munday?' says I, in a way that she couldn't tell what I was after. She said she had taken several names, but Munday was her right name. Then she corrected herself-she was weak and hoarse-and said it was her husband's name. 'You've a good memory, Mrs. Munday,' says I; 'now, just think as far back as you can, and tell us where you lived as long back as you can think.' She shook her head, and began to bury her face in her hands. I tried for several minutes, but could get nothing more out of her. Then she quickened up, shrieked out that she had just got out of the devil's regions, and made a rush for the door."
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1
ushers
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| n.引座员( usher的名词复数 )；招待员；门房；助理教员v.引，领，陪同( usher的第三人称单数 ) | |
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pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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deferred
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| adj.延期的，缓召的v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的过去式和过去分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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tinging
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的现在分词 ) | |
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sable
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| n.黑貂；adj.黑色的 | |
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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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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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10
contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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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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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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shrugs
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| n.耸肩（以表示冷淡，怀疑等）( shrug的名词复数 ) | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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porticoes
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| n.柱廊，（有圆柱的）门廊( portico的名词复数 ) | |
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mansions
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| n.宅第，公馆，大厦( mansion的名词复数 ) | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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muse
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| n.缪斯（希腊神话中的女神），创作灵感 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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chiselled
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| adj.凿过的，凿光的； （文章等）精心雕琢的v.凿，雕，镌( chisel的过去式 ) | |
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scrolled
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| adj.具有涡卷装饰的v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的过去式和过去分词 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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40
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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41
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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42
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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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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44
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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45
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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46
secluded
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| adj.与世隔绝的；隐退的；偏僻的v.使隔开，使隐退( seclude的过去式和过去分词) | |
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47
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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48
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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50
banished
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| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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52
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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53
iota
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| n.些微，一点儿 | |
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coteries
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| n.（有共同兴趣的）小集团( coterie的名词复数 ) | |
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lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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muses
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的第三人称单数 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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61
conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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62
frescoes
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| n.壁画( fresco的名词复数 )；温壁画技法，湿壁画 | |
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63
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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64
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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65
pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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66
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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68
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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69
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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70
lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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71
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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72
revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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73
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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74
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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75
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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76
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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77
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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78
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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80
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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81
persevered
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| v.坚忍，坚持( persevere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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82
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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84
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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85
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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86
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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87
dodges
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| n.闪躲( dodge的名词复数 )；躲避；伎俩；妙计v.闪躲( dodge的第三人称单数 )；回避 | |
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88
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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lodgers
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| n.房客，租住者( lodger的名词复数 ) | |
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90
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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