All the same I hope he won’t take too many liberties with my style, bad though it may be; for old Brand at times is apt to get—well, a bit prosy. To hear him on the subject of hard work and the sanctity thereof approaches the sublime4!
What freak took me to the little God-forsaken village of Midcombe in the depth of winter is entirely5 between myself and my conscience. The cause having[268] no bearing upon the matters I am asked to tell you about, is no one’s business but mine. I will only say that now I would not stay in such a place at such a time of the year for the sake of the prettiest girl in the world, let alone the bare chance of meeting her once or twice. But one’s ideas change. I am now a good bit older, ride some two stones heavier, and have been married ever so many years. Perhaps, after all, as I look back I can find some excuse for being such an ass6 as to endure for more than a fortnight all the discomforts7 heaped upon me in that little village inn.
A man who sojourns8 in such a hole as Midcombe must give some reason for doing so. My ostensible9 reason was hunting. I had a horse with me, and a second-rate subscription10 pack of slow-going mongrels did meet somewhere in the neighborhood, so no one could gainsay11 my explanation. But if hunting was my object, I got precious little of it. A few days after my arrival a bitter, biting frost set in—a frost as black as your hat and as hard as nails. Yet still I stayed on.
From private information received—no matter how, when or where—I knew that some people in the neighborhood had organized a party to go skating on a certain day at Lilymere, a fine sheet of water some distance from Midcombe. I guessed that some one whom I particularly desired to meet would be there, and as the skating at Lilymere was free to any one who chose to take the trouble of getting to such an out-of-the-way place, I hired a horse and an apology for a dog-cart, and at ten in the morning started to drive the twelve miles to the pond. I took no one with me. I had been to Lilymere once before, in bright summer weather, so fancied I knew the way well enough.
The sky when I started was cloudy; the wind was chopping round in a way which made the effete13 rustic14 old hostler predict a change of weather. He was right. Before I had driven two miles light snow began to fall, and by the time I reached a little wretched wayside inn, about a mile from the Mere12, a film of white covered the whole country. I stabled my horse as well as I could, then taking my skates with me walked down to the pond.
Now, whether I had mistaken the day, or whether the threatening fall of snow had made certain people change their minds, I don’t know; but, to my annoyance15 and vexation, no skaters were to be seen, and moreover, the uncut, white surface told me that none had been on the pond that morning. Still hoping they might come in spite of the weather, I put on my skates and went outside-edging and grape-vining all over the place. But as there was no person in particular—in fact, no one at all—to note my powers, I soon got tired. It was, indeed, dreary16, dreary work. But I waited and hoped until the snow came down so fast and furiously that I felt sure that waiting was in vain, and that I had driven to Lilymere for nothing.
Back I went to the little inn, utterly17 disgusted with things in general, and feeling that to break some one’s head would be a relief to me in my present state of mind. Of course a sensible man would at once have got his horse between the shafts19 and driven home. But whatever I may be now, in those days I was not a sensible man—Brand will, I know, cordially indorse this remark—the accommodation of the inn was not[270] such as to induce one to linger within its precincts; but the fire was a right good one, and a drink, which I skilfully20 manufactured out of some hot beer, not to be despised, and proved warming to the body and soothing22 to the ruffled23 temper. So I lingered over the big fire until I began to feel hungry, and upon the landlady24 assuring me that she could cook a rasher, decided25 it would be wiser to stay where I was until the violence of the snowstorm was over; for coming down it was now, and no mistake.
And it kept on coming down. About half-past three, when I sorrowfully decided I was bound to make a move, it was snowing faster than ever. I harnessed my horse, and laughing at the old woman’s dismal26 prophecy that I should never get to Midcombe in such weather, gathered up the reins, and away I went along the white road.
I thought I knew the way well enough. In fact I had always prided myself upon remembering any road once driven over by me; but does any one who has not tried it really know how a heavy fall of snow changes the aspect of the country, and makes landmarks27 snares28 and delusions29? I learned all about it then, once and for all. I found, also, that the snow lay much deeper than I thought could possibly be in so short a time, and it still fell in a manner almost blinding. Yet I went on bravely and merrily for some miles. Then came a bit of uncertainty—
Which of those two roads was the right one? This one, of course—no, the other. There was no house near; no one was likely to be passing in such weather, so I was left to exercise my free, unbiased choice; a privilege I would willingly have dispensed30 with.[271] However, I made the best selection I could, and followed it for some two miles. Then I began to grow doubtful, and soon persuading myself that I was on the wrong track, retraced31 my steps. I was by this time something like a huge white plaster of Paris figure, and the snow which had accumulated on the old dog-cart made it run heavier by half-a-ton, more or less. By the time I came to that unlucky junction32 of roads at which my misfortune began it was almost dark; the sky as black as a tarpaulin33, yet sending down the white feathery flakes34 thicker and faster than ever. I felt inclined to curse my folly35 in attempting such a drive, at any rate I blamed myself for not having started two or three hours earlier. I’ll warrant that steady-going old Brand never had to accuse himself of such foolishness as mine.
Well, I took the other road; went on some way; came to a turning which I seemed to remember; and, not without misgivings36, followed it. My misgivings increased when, after a little while, I found the road grew full of ruts, which the snow and the darkness quite concealed37 from me until the wheels got into them. Evidently I was wrong again. I was just thinking of making the best of my way out of this rough and unfrequented road, when—there, I don’t know how it happened, such things seldom occur to me—a stumble, a fall on the part of my tired horse sent me flying over the dashboard, with the only consoling thought that the reins were still in my hand.
Luckily the snow had made the falling pretty soft. I soon picked myself up and set about estimating damages. With some difficulty I got the horse out of the harness, and then felt free to inspect the dog-cart. Alas38! after the manner of the two-wheel kind whenever a horse thinks fit to fall, one shaft18 had snapped off like a carrot; so here was I, five miles apparently39 from anywhere, in the thick of a blinding snow-storm, left standing40 helpless beside a jaded41 horse and a broken cart—I should like to know what Brand would have done under the circumstances.
As for me, I reflected for some minutes—reflection in a snow-storm is weary work. I reasoned, I believe logically, and at last came to this decision: I would follow the road. If, as I suspected, it was but a cart-track, it would probably soon lead to a habitation of some kind. Anyway I had better try a bit further. I took hold of the wearied horse, and with snow under my feet, snow-flakes whirling round me, and a wind blowing right into my teeth, struggled on.
It was a journey! I think I must have been three-quarters of an hour going about a quarter of a mile. I was just beginning to despair, when I saw a welcome gleam of light. I steered42 toward it, fondly hoping that my troubles were at an end. I found the light stole through the ill-fitting window-shutters of what seemed, so far as I could make out in the darkness, to be a small farm-house. Tying to a gate the knotted reins by which I had been leading the horse, I staggered up to the door and knocked loudly. Upon my honor, until I leaned against that door-post I had no idea how tired I was—until that moment I never suspected that the finding of speedy shelter meant absolutely saving my life. Covered from head to foot with snow, my hat crushed in, I must have been a pitiable object.
No answer came to my first summons. It was only after a second and more imperative43 application of my heel that the door deigned44 to give way a few inches. Through the aperture45 a woman’s voice asked who was there?
“Let me in,” I said. “I have missed my way to Midcombe. My horse has fallen. You must give me shelter for the night. Open the door and let me in.”
“Shelter! You can’t get shelter here, mister,” said a man’s gruff voice. “This ain’t an inn, so you’d best be off and go elsewhere.”
“But I must come in,” I said, astonished at such inhospitality; “I can’t go a step further. Open the door at once!”
“You be hanged,” said the man. “’Tis my house, not yours.”
“But, you fool, I mean to pay you well for your trouble. Don’t you know it means death wandering about on such a night as this? Let me in.”
That I was enraged48 at such incivility may be easily imagined; but if I said I was thoroughly49 frightened I believe no one would be surprised. As getting into that house meant simply life or death to me, into that house I determined50 to get, by door or window, by fair means or by foul51. So, as the door closed, I hurled52 myself against it with all the might I could muster53. Although I ride much heavier now than I did then, all my weight at that time was bone and muscle. The violence of my attack tore from the lintel the staple54 which held the chain; the door went back with a bang, and I fell forward into the house, fully21 resolved to stay there whether welcome or unwelcome.
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1
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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mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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3
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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8
sojourns
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| n.逗留，旅居( sojourn的名词复数 ) | |
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9
ostensible
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| adj.(指理由)表面的，假装的 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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gainsay
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| v.否认，反驳 | |
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12
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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effete
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| adj.无生产力的，虚弱的 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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15
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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16
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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20
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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23
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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24
landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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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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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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27
landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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28
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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29
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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30
dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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31
retraced
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| v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 )；回忆；回顾；追溯 | |
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32
junction
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| n.连接，接合；交叉点，接合处，枢纽站 | |
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33
tarpaulin
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| n.涂油防水布，防水衣，防水帽 | |
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34
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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35
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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36
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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37
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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38
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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39
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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40
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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41
jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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42
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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43
imperative
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| n.命令，需要；规则；祈使语气；adj.强制的；紧急的 | |
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44
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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46
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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47
boorish
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| adj.粗野的，乡巴佬的 | |
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48
enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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49
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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50
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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51
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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52
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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53
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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54
staple
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| n.主要产物，常用品，主要要素，原料，订书钉，钩环；adj.主要的，重要的；vt.分类 | |
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