Fulton was a good deal disturbed by these reports, which it became his duty to sift9 for the “Chronicle.” Fulton liked Redfield; Redfield was a likable person, a good fellow. The effect[170] upon his future of this misfortune, attributable to his new-born zeal10 for money-making, was not to be passed lightly. There was nothing for the papers to print, as the complaining purchasers had been made whole and were anxious to avoid publicity11. Fulton had watched matters carefully with a view to protecting Redfield if it became necessary, and he was confident that the sanguine12 promoters were the real culprits, though it was pretty clear that any scruples13 the broker might have had had gone down before the promise of a generous commission.
When quite satisfied that Redfield was safe so far as prosecution14 was concerned, Fulton spoke15 of Redfield’s difficulties to the Poet on an evening when he called ostensibly to report the completion of his romance. The Poet listened attentively16, but the reporter accepted his mild expressions of regret as indicating indifference17 to Redfield’s fate. The young man’s remark that if it hadn’t been for the Poet he would[171] have shared Redfield’s collapse18 elicited19 no comment. The Poet, imaginably preoccupied20 with less disagreeable speculations21, turned at once to Fulton’s manuscript. After the final draft had been discussed and publishers had been considered, the young man left in the cheerful mood he always carried away from his talks with the Poet.
But the Poet spent a restless evening. He listlessly turned over many books without finding any to arrest his interest. He was troubled, deeply troubled, by what Fulton had told him of Redfield. And he was wandering whether there might not be some way of turning his old friend’s humiliation22 to good account. A man of Redfield’s character and training would feel disgrace keenly; and coming at a time when he believed himself well launched toward success, the shock to his pride would be all the greater.
Nothing in the Poet’s creed23 was more brightly rubricated than his oft-repeated declarations[172] that the unfortunate, the erring24, the humbled25, are entitled to mercy and kindness. The Redfields’ plight26 had roused him to a defense27 of his theory of life; but Fulton’s story had added a new integer that greatly increased the difficulty of solving this problem. Seemingly Fate was using these old friends to provide illustrations for many of the dicta that were the foundation of his teachings. Inspiration did not visit the quiet street that night. The Poet pondered old poems rather than new ones. “Life is a game the soul can play,” he found in Sill; but the chessmen, he reflected, are sometimes bafflingly obstinate28 and unreasonable29.
“To-morrow is All-Children’s Day,” remarked the Poet a few days later when, seemingly by chance, he met Fulton in the street; and when the young man asked for light the Poet went on to explain. “When Marjorie was born her father and I set apart her birthday to[173] be All-Children’s Day—a crystallization of all children’s birthdays, from the beginning of time, and we meant to celebrate it to the end of our days. It just occurs to me that you and I might make it an excuse for calling on Mrs. Redfield and Marian and Marjorie to-morrow afternoon, the same being Sunday. Very likely you have another engagement—” he ended, with provoking implications that caused Fulton, who was already pledged to visit Marjorie and inferentially Marian and Mrs. Redfield on this very Sunday afternoon, to stammer30 in the most incriminating fashion.
“Then if you haven’t anything better to do we can call together,” said the Poet.
It would have been clear to less observant eyes than the Poet’s that the reporter was on excellent terms with the household, and even if the elders had tried to mask the cordiality of their welcome, Marjorie’s delight in Fulton was too manifest for concealment31. She transparently[174] disclosed the existence of much unfinished business between herself and the young man that pointed32 irrefutably to many previous and recent interviews.
“Inside is no good for houses,” Marjorie was saying, as the Poet accommodated himself to the friendly atmosphere; “nobody builds houses inside of houses.”
This suggestion of the open was promptly33 supported by Fulton; and in the most natural manner imaginable Marian was pressed into service to assist in transferring building-materials to the few square yards of lawn at the side of the house. September was putting forth34 all her pomp and the air was of summer warmth. Marjorie’s merry treble floated in with the laughter of Marian and Fulton. They were engaged with utmost seriousness in endeavoring to reproduce with blocks the elaborate château of sand, sticks, and stones that had been their rallying-point on the shores of Waupegan.
[175]The Poet, left alone with Mrs. Redfield, noted35 the presence in the tiny parlor36 of some of the lares and penates that had furnished forth the suburban37 bungalow38 and that had survived the transfer to the flat and the subsequent disaster. They seemed curiously39 wistful in these new surroundings. As though aware that this was in his mind, Mrs. Redfield began speaking of matters as far removed from her own affairs as possible. The Poet understood, and, when the topics she suggested gave opportunity, played upon them whimsically. The trio in the yard were evidently having the best of times; and their happiness stirred various undercurrents of thought in the Poet’s mind. He was not quite sure of his ground. It was one thing to urge charity, mercy, and tolerance40 in cloistral41 security; to put one’s self forward as the protagonist42 of any of these virtues43 was quite another.
The Poet rose, picked up a magazine from[176] the center table, scanned the table of contents, and then said, very quietly,—
“Miles is in trouble.”
He watched her keenly for the effect of this, and then proceeded quickly:—
“It’s fortunate that the jar came so soon; a few years later and it mightn’t have been possible for him to recover; but I think there’s hope for him.”
“What Miles does or what he becomes is of no interest to me,” she answered sharply. “He didn’t feel that there was any disgrace to him in casting Marjorie and me aside; his pride’s not likely to suffer from anything else that may happen to him.”
“He’s down and out; there’s no possibility of his going on with the brokerage business; he’s got to make a new start. It’s to be said for him that he has made good the losses of the people who charged him with unfair dealing44. I’m disposed to think he was carried away[177] by his enthusiasm; he was trying to get on too fast.”
In spite of her flash of anger at the mention of her husband’s name, it was clear that her curiosity had been aroused. Nor was the Poet dismayed by a light in her dark eyes which he interpreted as expressing a sense of triumph and vindication45.
“I suppose he’s satisfied now,” she said.
“I fancy his state of mind isn’t enviable,” the Poet replied evenly. “Life, when you come to think of it, is a good deal like writing a sonnet46. You start off bravely with your rhyme words scrawled47 at the top of the page. Four lines may come easily enough; but the words you have counted on to carry you through lead into all manner of complications. You are betrayed into saying the reverse of the thing you started out to say. You begin with spring and after you’ve got the birds to singing, the powers of mischief48 turn the seasons upside[178] down, and before you know it the autumn leaves are falling; it’s extremely discouraging! If we could only stick to the text—”
His gesture transferred the illustration from the field of literary composition to the ampler domain49 of life.
“But when the rhyme words won’t carry sense, and you have to throw the whole thing overboard—” she ventured.
“No, oh, no! That’s the joy of rhyming—its endless fascination51! The discreet52 and economical poet never throws away even a single line; there’s always a chance that it may be of use.” He was feeling his way back to his illustration of life from the embarrassments53 of sonneteering, and smiled as his whimsical fancy caught at a clue. “If you don’t forget the text,—if you’re quite sure you have an idea,—or an ideal!—then it’s profitable to[179] keep fussing away at it. If a bad line offend you, pluck it out; or maybe a line gets into the wrong place and has to be moved around until it fits. It’s all a good deal like the work Marjorie’s doing outside—fitting blocks together that have to go in a certain way or the whole structure will tumble. It’s the height of cowardice54 to give up and persuade yourself that you’ve exhausted55 the subject in a quatrain. The good craftsman56 will follow the pattern—perfect his work, make it express the best in himself!”
And this referred to the estrangement57 of Miles Redfield and his wife or not; just as one might please to take it.
“Miles has gone away, I suppose,” she remarked listlessly.
This made the situation quite concrete again, and any expression of interest, no matter how indifferent, would have caused the Poet’s heart to bound; but his face did not betray him.
“Oh, he will be back shortly, I understand.[180] I rather think he will show himself a man and pull his sonnet together again! There’s a fine courage in Miles; unless I’ve mistaken him, he won’t sit down and cry, even if he has made a pretty bad blunder. A man hardly ever loses all his friends; there’s always somebody around who will hand a tract58 in at the jail door!”
“You don’t mean,” she exclaimed, “that Miles has come to that!”
“Bless me, no!” the Poet cried, with another heart throb59. “The worst is over now; I’m quite satisfied of that!” he answered with an ease that conveyed nothing of the pains he had taken, by ways devious60 and concealed61, to assure himself that Miles had made complete restitution62.
“A man of cheaper metal might have taken chances with the law; I’m confident that Miles was less the culprit than the victim. He sold something that wasn’t good, on the strength of statements he wasn’t responsible for. I believe[181] that to be honestly true, and I got it through men who have no interest in him, who might be expected to chortle over his misfortune.”
“In business matters,” she replied, with an emphasis that was eloquent63 of reservations as to other fields, “Miles was always perfectly64 honorable. I don’t believe anybody would question that.”
It hadn’t entered into the Poet’s most sanguine speculations that she would defend Miles, or speak even remotely in praise of him. Wisdom dictated65 an immediate66 change of topic. He walked to the open window and established communication with the builders outside, who had reproduced the Waupegan château with added splendors67 and were anxious to have it admired.
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1
waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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mitigating
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| v.减轻，缓和( mitigate的现在分词 ) | |
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investors
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| n.投资者，出资者( investor的名词复数 ) | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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sift
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| v.筛撒，纷落，详察 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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13
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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14
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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15
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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16
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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17
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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21
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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22
humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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erring
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| 做错事的，错误的 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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26
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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28
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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29
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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30
stammer
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| n.结巴，口吃；v.结结巴巴地说 | |
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31
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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32
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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36
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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38
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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39
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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40
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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41
cloistral
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| adj.修道院的，隐居的，孤独的 | |
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42
protagonist
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| n.(思想观念的)倡导者；主角，主人公 | |
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43
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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44
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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45
vindication
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| n.洗冤，证实 | |
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46
sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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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
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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49
domain
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| n.(活动等)领域，范围；领地，势力范围 | |
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50
feigned
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| a.假装的，不真诚的 | |
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51
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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52
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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53
embarrassments
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| n.尴尬( embarrassment的名词复数 )；难堪；局促不安；令人难堪或耻辱的事 | |
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54
cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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55
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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56
craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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57
estrangement
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| n.疏远，失和，不和 | |
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58
tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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59
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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60
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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61
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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62
restitution
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| n.赔偿；恢复原状 | |
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63
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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64
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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65
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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66
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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67
splendors
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| n.华丽( splendor的名词复数 )；壮丽；光辉；显赫 | |
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