I was not always a man of woe1. --WALTER SCOTT. CHAPTER VII. IN WHICH THERE IS A MADMAN
Mr. Flint sips2 vino d'oro--The Stranger--The Letter--Mr. Flint Outwitted--Mr. Flint's Photograph--The Madman's Story--The wrecked3 Soul--How Mr. Flint is troubled by his Conscience, and dreams of a Pair of Eyes.
The same night on which Mortimer was writing in the books of Flint & Snarle, Mr. Flint sat in the library of his bachelor home, sipping5 a glass of vino d'oro; and as the bells of Trinity Church fell faintly on his ear, he drew a massive gold watch from his fob, and, patting it complacently6 on the back, scrutinized7 its face as if he would look it out of countenance8. Then he yawned a couple of times and thought of bed. "There's a gintleman without, sur," said Michel, putting his comical head in at the library door, "there's a gintleman without, sur," and he emphasized the 'gintleman.' "What sort of a person, Michel?" "A very quare one indade. 'Is Mr. Flint in?' sez he. 'He is sur,' sez I. 'I want to see him,' sez he. 'Your kard, sur,' sez I. He stared at me a minit, and laughed. Then, sez he, without the least riverence for your worship, 'Give this to owld Flint!'" And Michel, exploding with laughter, handed Flint a knave9 of clubs very much soiled. "Michel!" said Mr. Flint, drawing himself up to his full altitude, "kick him down the steps!" "Thanks!" said a voice directly behind Michel, who had retreated to the doorway10. The voice was so near and unexpected that Michel's crisp hair stood on end with fright. The door was thrown wide open, and a fine looking man, with the bearing of a sailor, stood between them. Mr. Flint turned as white as his immaculate shirt-bosom11; and Michel, whose love of fun had got the better of his scare, regarded the intruder with a quizzical, inquiring air, peculiarly Irish. "Michel," said Mr. Flint, "you may go." That gentleman, not expecting such an order, hesitated. "Yes, sur." "Michel," said the stranger, "your master speaks to you." "Sure I heard him, sur." Michel left the room and carefully closed the door after him; but Flint, who knew his inquiring proclivities13, opened it suddenly, and found Michel on all fours with his ear to the key-hole. The door was opened so unexpectedly that the listener did not discover the fact for the space of ten seconds. When he looked up and beheld15 his master, the intense expression of his face was superbly ludicrous. To say that he shot to the subterranean16 regions of the kitchen like a flash of lightning, does not border on fiction. The man laughed--it was a low, peculiar12 laugh, sadder than some men's tears. "Flint!" "Well." "Are you glad to see me?" and the man repeated his laugh. "No: you are a devil!" "I have been away three years, as I promised you." "Well, what do you want?" "Money." "Have I ever seen you when you did not?" "No, Flint, you never did. But you saw me once when I had an unstained soul--when I could have looked up to Heaven and said, 'I am poor, Father, but I am honest.' Have you enough money to pay for a lost soul? Oh Flint, I am a wrecked man! If it had only been murder--if I had killed a man in the heat of passion--but a poor innocent babe in the cold snow! The child! the little babe! Ah, Flint, I never see the white snow coming down but I think of it. Those eyes are always with me. They follow me out to sea. They haunt me in the long watches. One night, when a storm had torn our rigging to tatters, and we heard the breakers on the lee-shore, I saw her standing17 by the binnacle light, and, so help me Heaven! she had grown to be a woman. I fainted at the wheel. You heard of the shipwreck18. How could a ship keep clear of the rocks and the helmsman in a trance? Forty souls went down, down! Hist! who said that? Not I. No, not I! I am a maniac19!" "Don't go on that way," pleaded Flint, giving uneasy looks toward the door, which he regretted having locked. "Why?" "It is not pleasant." "What isn't?" "Your eyes--your words. What can I do for you?" The man's excitement lulled20 for a moment. He replied, carelessly: "I am not a chameleon22; I cannot live on air; I can earn no money. The elements are against me--storms and shipwrecks23 follow me.... I have not found him yet," he said, abruptly24. "Who?" "My boy." Flint turned aside his head, and laughed quietly. "I am tired of searching for him," said the man, sorrowfully. "I am not going to sea any more." After a pause--"I wish to live among the fishermen off Nantucket. You ask me what I want?" "Yes." "I want two or three hundred dollars to fit up a fishing-smack. Give me this, and I will not trouble you again. God knows I don't want to look on your face!" "And the letter--will you give me the letter?" "Yes; when I take the money." The man drew from his bosom several letters, and selected one more worn and crumpled25 than the rest. Flint's eyes fed upon it. "Of course," said Flint, "I have not such an amount in the house. I have a hundred dollars up stairs, and will give you a check for the remainder. Will that do?" "No and yes; but get the money, and I'll see." Flint left him alone. From a safe in his bed-chamber he took a small bag of gold, and caressed27 it for a moment very much as one's grandmother would a pet cat; then he filled up a check, and called Michel. "Run to the police station, Michel, and tell Captain L.----to send me three or four men." Michel shot down stairs, and his master followed him leisurely28, patting the gold-bag lovingly at every other step. "Does he think," said Flint's visitor to himself, as the library door closed--"can he think I would part with this paper? He, so full of worldly shrewdness, so simple?" After awhile the door opened. "There!" gasped29 Flint, placing the bag on the table before the man; "the letter! the letter!" The stranger carelessly threw a rumpled26 paper toward Flint, who grasped it convulsively. His hand touched a bell-rope, and before the bell had ceased tinkling30, a heavy measured tramp came through the entry. Four policemen entered the room in single file, with Michel behind them making comical efforts to keep step. "Arrest him!" cried Flint, hoarse31 with passion and triumph, "he has extorted32 money from me!" "Flint," said the man, walking toward him, "you know that's a lie!" Mr. Flint retreated behind the policeman. "This person," he cried, "is a stranger to me; he forced his way into my house and has threatened my life. Arrest him quickly, for he is no doubt armed!" "Gentlemen," said the stranger, turning to the officers, "Mr. Flint, I fear, has given you useless trouble. Michel, more glasses!" At this, that astonished individual went off like a rocket. "For the love you bear your good name, Mr. Flint", he continued, "look at the paper which you so innocently put in your pocket." An idea struck Flint, which caused him to turn pale. He tore open the letter; but it was not the one for which he would have given half his fortune. Oh! sagacious, wily, clear-sighted Mr. Flint! "You had better tell these gentlemen that you have made a mistake, Flint. But, before they go, they must have a glass of wine." Michel had failed to appear with the extra glasses; but the want of them was elegantly supplied by three silver goblets33 which stood on the beaufait. And poor, collapsed34 Flint! he could only bid the officers go, with a wave of his hand. They were alone. The sailor, with a scornful curl in his lip, stood by the chair of the merchant, whose dejected countenance, taken in connection with his white cravat35, was delightfully36 comical. "Flint," commenced the man, "your verdancy37 is refreshing38. Your sweet and child-like simplicity39 is like a draught40 of your old wine--it's rare, it's rare." If anything touched Flint, it was sarcasm41. He stood in dread42 of ridicule43, as most men do whose foibles and vices44 deserve lashing45. "Edward Walters!" he cried, springing to his feet, "you have outwitted me. Well, you are a knave; it is your pride to be one. Your companions will shout to-night, in some obscure den14 of this city, as you tell them of your ingenuity46, and you will be a hero among----" "Stop, John Flint! For sixteen years to-night my life has been as pure as a child's. The vices of passion and avarice47 have not touched me. I have borne a sorrow in my heart which shrunk instinctively48 from sin. During these years I have been poor, very poor." The man paused. "There is a link lost somewhere in my life--was I an age in a madhouse? Let it go. I have loved my fellow-man; I have lingered at the hammock of a sick mess-mate, and closed his eyes kindly49 when he died; I have spoken words of cheer when my heart was bitterness. I do not say this boastfully, for God's eyes are upon us all. I have done these things to atone51 for the one great sin of my life, which has stalked through memory like a plague. John Flint, I have had the misfortune to know you for twenty years, and during that time you never have, to my knowledge, performed a single act worthy52 of being remembered. You have a narrow, malicious53 mind; you have been tyrannical when you should have been generous; you have been the devil's emissary under the cant54 of religion. You call Jesus master, but you crucify him daily! There is your photograph, John Flint!" "You flatter me," remarked that personage, sarcastically55; "but go on." "It is seldom that a rich man has the truth spoken to him plainly--the poor man hears it often enough. Consider yourself favored. You have called me a knave. I will draw some pictures, and I wish you to look at them: "Many years ago, a seafaring man who had just lost his ship in which his little fortune had been invested, returned to this city sick at heart, and weak from a wound which he had received in the wreck4. He had battled many a year against misfortune, and his utmost exertions56 had barely found bread for his children. He owed money to a heartless and exacting57 man. He stood before his creditor58 and said, 'I am beggared, but I will work for you.' The merchant replied, 'Come to my house to-night, and I will find means by which this debt can be liquidated59.' The sailor expected reproaches and hard words; so he was surprised at the softness of this speech, and his heart was full of gratitude60. "That night he sat in the parlor61 of the merchant, who plied21 him with rare wines, until his mind went from him. Then he made a proposal to the sailor, who, if he had had his senses, would have felled him to the floor. The merchant had been appointed guardian62 to a motherless babe, which his brother, dying, begged him to love and educate. His ship on the sea, and the bales of merchandize in his warehouses63, were not enough to feed his hungry avarice. He needs must have the little inheritance of the babe. Well, while he was speaking, making artful pictures in the eyes of his drugged dupe, the child ran into the room, and twined her arms around the neck of him who should have worshiped her. But he coldly unclasped the little hands and pushed her from him. John Flint, when that man, on Judgment64 Day, shall cringe before the throne of God, the Evil Angel will trample65 him down!" Flint was as white as the marble mantel-piece on which he leaned. Edward Walters stood a short distance in front of him; his eyes were fixed66, and he spoke50 like one who sees what he is describing. "Then the man--the merchant--wrapped the child in the sailor's cloak. In a few minutes the sailor stood in the stormy street, with a frightened little heart throbbing67 against his own. The cutting sleet68 and snow beat in his face, and the wine made a veil before his eyes. It was a fearful night. Not a human form was to be seen; the street lamps were blown out, and the poor mariner69 drifted to and fro like a deserted70 ship. He had become mad; the strange events had eaten into his brain. He wrapped the babe closer in his cloak, and placed her in a doorway, out of the cold. He wandered from street to street, then he sank down in the snow. When his senses came to him he had been in a madhouse--God, how many years! Was it ten? The June wind broke through the barred window; it touched his forehead, and it was like a human hand rousing one from a dreamless sleep. One evening soon after, he stood before the merchant, who was sipping his choice cordials, as you were to-night, Flint, and the sailor asked for the child. The man replied: 'The child is dead; you left it in the cold, and it died, or you threw it into the river. I saw a body at the dead-house, weeks afterward71, which looked like the child. You committed murder; it was your own act. Suppose you were to be hung for it!' Have I a good memory, John Flint?" And the man turned his wild eyes on Mr. Flint, who gave no other evidence of not being a statue than a slight tremor72 of his upper lip. "What did the madman say to the merchant? He took the cool, calculating villain73 by the throat, and cried, 'Write me out, in your round, clerkly hand, a full avowal74 of your guilt75 in this matter, or I'll strangle you!' The merchant knew he would, so he wrote this document with trembling fingers, and he signed it JOHN FLINT!" Then the sailor drew from his pocket an old stained letter, and held it up to the light. He looked at it sadly, and then his mind seemed to wander off through a gloomy mist of memories, for his eyes grew gentle and dreamy. He spoke softly, almost tenderly: "John Flint, you never saw me weep. Look at me, then. I am thinking of an old country-house which stood in a cluster of trees near a sea-shore. It once held everything that was dear to me--my children. Three years ago I stood with my hand on the gate, and looked into the little garden. It had gone to waste; the wind had beaten down the flower frames; the honeysuckle vines were running wild, and there was the moss76 of ten years' growth on the broken chimney-pots. The rain had washed the paint off the house, and the windows were boarded up. There was something in the ruin and stillness of the place which spoke to me. Twilight77 added a gloomy background to the picture. I broke the rusty78 fastenings of a side door, and entered the deserted building. It may have been fancy, but I saw two forms wandering from room to room, and through the darkened entries; now they would pause, as if listening for foot-steps, then they would move on again, sorrowfully, sorrowfully. In the bedroom over the front door, I saw the shadow of a little coffin79! She used to sleep there. Where were my children? Where was trustful old Nanny, that she did not come to me? The house was full of strange shadows, and I fled from it. I did not dare go to the village hard by. There were too many who might have known me. I sat down in the quiet church-yard where my wife had slept many a long year. I sat by a little mound80 on which a wreath of flowers had been laid--nothing remained of them but stems and the rotting string that had bound them. It had a peaceful look, the grave, and I wished that I had died when my mound would not have been made longer than the one at my side. What did the simple head-stone say? It said: 'LITTLE BELL!'--that was all!" The sailor grasped Flint's arm. "Only little Bell!--that was all. But it was all the world to me! What a tale it told! What a tale of weary waiting, and despair, and death! Did her little heart wait for me! Did she sicken and die when I did not come to her? Aye, it said all this and more. And my boy--was he living? was he searching for me? No, not searching, for close by my child's grave, a white stone had these words carved on it:" and the man repeated them slowly, SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF OUR FATHER, LOST AT SEA. "Not lost at sea," he said, almost inaudibly, "but lost! Ah, I could have died in that quiet place, with the moonlight on me! But I was startled from my grief by the shouts of some men on the roadside, and I turned and fled. Have you looked at the picture, John Flint?" He spoke so mournfully, that Flint raised his little, sharp eyes, which all this time had been fixed on the carpet; but he made no reply. "I'll have none of your gold, man. I was weak to want it. Give it to the poor. The shining round pieces may fall like sunlight into some wretched home. To me they are like drops of blood!" And he pushed the gold from him, and went to the window. He saw the dim eyes of Heaven looking down through the mist--heard the murmurs81 of the city dying away, and the calm of night entered his soul. "May you be a better man when we meet again," he said, turning to Flint. "But the letter," cried Flint, fearfully, "you won't----" The sailor's lips curled, and something of his former severity returned. "Take off your sanctimonious82 cravat," he answered, "wrap charity around you like a robe, that you may be pleasing in God's sight. You sent some gold to convert the Hindoos--the papers said so. Why, man! there is a Heathen Land at your door-step! John Flint, good night!" The merchant stood alone. The night wind swayed the heavy curtains to and fro, and half extinguished the brilliant jets of gas. He threw himself into a chair, and a vision of the Past rose up before him--the terrible Past. The ghosts of dead years haunted his brain, and remorse83 sat on his heart, boding84 and mysterious, like the Raven85 of the sweet poet-- "That unhappy master, whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast, and followed faster, till his songs one burden bore!" That night, as we have said, he dreamt of two blue, innocent eyes, which once looked confidingly86 in his--of two infant arms which encircled his neck. Those eyes haunted him into the realm of sleep, where myriads87 of little arms were stretched out to him, and he turned restlessly on his pillow!
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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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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wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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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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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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knave
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| n.流氓；（纸牌中的）杰克 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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proclivities
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| n.倾向，癖性( proclivity的名词复数 ) | |
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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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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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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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shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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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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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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chameleon
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| n.变色龙，蜥蜴；善变之人 | |
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shipwrecks
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| 海难，船只失事( shipwreck的名词复数 )； 沉船 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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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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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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extorted
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| v.敲诈( extort的过去式和过去分词 )；曲解 | |
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goblets
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| n.高脚酒杯( goblet的名词复数 ) | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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verdancy
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| n.幼稚；嫩绿 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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50
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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atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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exacting
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| adj.苛求的，要求严格的 | |
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creditor
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| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
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liquidated
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| v.清算( liquidate的过去式和过去分词 )；清除（某人）；清偿；变卖 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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65
trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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68
sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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69
mariner
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| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
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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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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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72
tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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76
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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sanctimonious
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| adj.假装神圣的，假装虔诚的，假装诚实的 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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84
boding
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| adj.凶兆的，先兆的n.凶兆，前兆，预感v.预示，预告，预言( bode的现在分词 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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85
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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myriads
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| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
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