“My good people,” I said, “you are behaving in the most unheard-of manner. Can’t you understand that I mean to pay you well for any trouble I give you? But whether you like it or not, here I stay to-night. To turn me out would be sheer murder.”
So saying I pulled off my overcoat, and began shaking the snow out of my whiskers.
I dare say my determined6 attitude, my respectable, as well as my muscular appearance, impressed my unwilling7 hosts. Anyway, they gave in without more ado. Whilst the woman shut the door, through which the snow-flakes were whirling, the man said sullenly8:
“Well, you’ll have to spend the night on a chair. We’ve no beds here for strangers. ’Specially those as ain’t wanted.”
“Very well, my friend. Having settled the matter you may as well make yourself pleasant. Go out and put my horse under cover, and give him a feed of some sort—make a mash9 if you can.”
After giving the woman a quick glance as of warning, my scowling host lit a horn lantern, and went on the errand I suggested. I gladly sank into a chair, and warmed myself before a cheerful fire. The prospect10 of spending the night amid such discomfort11 was not alluring12, but I had, at least, a roof over my head.
As a rule, the more churlish the nature, the more avaricious14 it is found to be. My promise of liberal remuneration was, after all, not without its effect upon the strange couple whose refusal to afford me refuge had so nearly endangered my life. They condescended15 to get me some tea and rough food. After I had disposed of all that, the man produced a bottle of gin. We filled our glasses, and then, with the aid of my pipe, I settled down to make the best of a night spent in a hard wooden chair.
I had come across strange people in my travels, but I have no hesitation16 in saying that my host was the sullenest, sulkiest, most boorish17 specimen18 of human nature I had as yet met with. In spite of his recent ill-treatment of me I was quite ready to establish matters on a friendly footing, and made several attempts to draw him into conversation. The brute19 would only answer in monosyllables, or often not answer at all. So I gave up talking as a bad job, and sat in silence, smoking and looking into the fire, thinking a good deal, it may be, of some one I should have met that morning at Lilymere had the wretched snow but kept off.
The long clock—that cumbrous eight-day machine which inevitably20 occupies one corner of every cottager’s kitchen—struck nine. The woman rose and left us. I concluded she was going to bed. If so, I envied her. Her husband showed no sign of retiring. He still sat over the fire, opposite me. By this time I was dreadfully[276] tired: every bone in my body ached. The hard chair which an hour or two ago, seemed all I could desire, now scarcely came up to my ideas of the comfort I was justly entitled to claim. My sulky companion had been drinking silently but steadily22. Perhaps the liquor he had poured into himself might have rendered his frame of mind more pleasant and amenable23 to reason.
“My good fellow,” I said, “your chairs are excellent ones of the kind, but deucedly uncomfortable. I am horribly tired. If the resources of your establishment can’t furnish a bed for me to sleep in, couldn’t you find a mattress24 or something to lay down before the fire?”
“You’ve got all you’ll get to-night,” he answered, knocking the ashes out his pipe.
“Oh, but I say!”
“So do I say. I say this: If you don’t like it you can leave it. We didn’t ask you to come.”
“You infernal beast,” I muttered—and meant it too—I declare had I not been so utterly25 worn out, I would have had that bullet-headed ruffian up for a few rounds on his own kitchen floor, and tried to knock him into a more amiable26 frame of mind.
“Never mind,” I said; “but, remember, civility costs nothing, and often gets rewarded. However, if you wish to retire to your own couch don’t let your native politeness stand in your way. Pray don’t hesitate on my account. Leave plenty of fuel, and I shall manage until morning.”
“Where you stay, I stay,” he answered. Then he filled his pipe, and once more relapsed into stony27 silence.
I bothered about him no more. I dozed28 off for a few minutes—woke—dozed off again for some hours. I was in an uncomfortable sort of half sleep, crammed29 full of curious dreams—dreams from which I started, wondering where I was and how I got there. I even began to grow nervous. All sorts of horrible travellers’ tales ran through my head. It was in just such places as this that unsuspecting voyagers were stated to have been murdered and robbed, by just such unmitigated ruffians as my host—I can tell you that altogether I spent a most pleasant night.
To make matters worse and more dismal30 the storm still raged outside. The wind moaned through the trees, but it had again changed, and I knew from the sound on the window-panes that heavy rain had succeeded snow. As the big drops of water found their way down the large old-fashioned chimney, the fire hissed31 and spluttered like a spiteful vixen. Everything combined to deprive me of what dog’s sleep I could by sheer persistency32 snatch.
I think I tried every position which an ordinary man, not an acrobat33, is capable of adopting with the assistance of a common wooden chair. I even lay down on the hard flags. I actually tried the table. I propped34 up the upper half of my body against the corner walls of the room; but found no rest. At last I gave up all idea of sleeping, and fully21 aroused myself. I comforted myself by saying that my misery35 was only temporary—that the longest night must come to an end.
My companion had by now succumbed36 to fatigue37, or to the combined effects of fatigue and gin-and-water. His head was hanging sideways, and he slept in a most uncomfortable attitude. I chuckled38 as I looked at him, feeling quite sure that if such a clod was capable of dreaming at all, his dreams must be worse even than mine. I filled another pipe, poked39 the smoldering40 logs into a blaze, and sat almost nose and knees over the fire, finding some amusement in speculating upon the condition of the churl13 before me, and thanking the Lord I was not like unto this man. Suddenly an idea flashed across me.
I had seen this fellow before. But when or where I could not remember. His features, as I looked at them with keener interest, seemed to grow more and more familiar to me. Where could I have met him? Somewhere or other, but where? I racked my brain to associate him with some scene, some event. Although he was but an ordinary countryman, such as one sees scores of in a day’s ride, only differing from his kind on account of his unpleasant face, I felt sure we were old acquaintances. When he awoke for a moment and changed his strained attitude, my feeling grew stronger and stronger. Yet puzzle and puzzle as I would I could not call to mind a former encounter; so at last I began to think the supposed recognition was pure fancy on my part.
Having smoked out several pipes, I thought that a cigar would be a slight break to the monotony of the night’s proceedings41. So I drew out my case and looked at its contents. Among the weeds was one of a lighter42 color than the others. As I took it out I said to myself, “Why, old Brand gave me that one when I was last at his house.” Curiously43 enough that cigar was the missing link in the chain of my memory. As I held it in my hand I knew at once why my host’s ugly face seemed familiar to me.
About a fortnight before, being in town, I had spent the evening with the doctor. He was not alone, and I was introduced to a tall pale young man named Carriston. He was a pleasant, polite young fellow, although not much in my line. At first I judged him to be a would-be poet of the fashionable miserable44 school; but finding that he and Brand talked so much about art I eventually decided45 that he was one of the doctor’s many artist friends. Art is a hobby he hacks46 about on grandly. (Mem. Brand’s own attempt at pictures are simply atrocious!)
Just before I left, Carriston, the doctor’s back being turned, asked me to step into another room. There he showed me the portrait of a man. It seemed very cleverly drawn47, and I presumed he wanted me to criticise48 it.
“I am a precious bad judge,” I said.
“I am not asking you to pass an opinion,” said Carriston. “I want to beg a favor of you. I am almost ashamed to beg it on so short an acquaintance.”
He seemed modest, and not in want of money, so I encouraged him to proceed.
“I heard you say you were going into the country,” he resumed. “I want to ask you if by any chance you should meet the original of that drawing to telegraph at once to Dr. Brand.”
“Whereabouts does he live?”
“I have no idea. If chance throws him in your way please do as I ask.”
“Certainly I will,” I said, seeing the young man made the request in solemn earnest.
He thanked me, and then gave me a small photograph of the picture. This photograph he begged me to keep in my pocket-book, so that I might refer to it in case I met the man he wanted. I put it there, went my way, and, am sorry to say, forget all about it. Had it not been for the strange cigar in my case bringing back Carriston’s unusual request to my mind, the probabilities are that I should not have thought again of the matter. Now, by a remarkable49 coincidence, I was spending the night with the very man, who, so far as my memory served me, must have sat for the portrait shown me at Brand’s house.
“I wonder what I did with the photo,” I said. I turned out my letter-case. There it was, right enough! Shading it with one hand, I carefully compared it with the sleeper50.
Not a doubt about it! So far as a photograph taken from a picture can go, it was the man himself. The same ragged51 beard, the same coarse features, the same surly look. Young Carriston was evidently a wonderful hand at knocking off a likeness52. Moreover, in case I had felt any doubt in the matter, a printed note at the bottom of the photograph said that one joint53 was missing from a right-hand finger. Sure enough, my friend lacked that small portion of his misbegotten frame.
This discovery threw me in an ecstasy54 of delight. I laughed so loudly that I almost awoke the ruffian. I guessed I was going to take a glorious revenge for all the discomforts55 I had suffered. No one, I felt sure, could be looking for such a fellow as this to do any good to him. I was quite happy in the thought, and for the remainder of the night gloated over the idea of putting a spoke56 in the wheel of one who had been within an ace3 of causing my death. I resolved, the[281] moment I got back to civilization, to send the desired intelligence to Brand, and hope for the best.
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1
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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3
ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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9
mash
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| n.麦芽浆，糊状物，土豆泥；v.把…捣成糊状，挑逗，调情 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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13
churl
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| n.吝啬之人；粗鄙之人 | |
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14
avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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15
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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16
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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17
boorish
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| adj.粗野的，乡巴佬的 | |
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18
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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20
inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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21
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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22
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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23
amenable
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| adj.经得起检验的；顺从的；对负有义务的 | |
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24
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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28
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
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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30
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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31
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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32
persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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33
acrobat
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| n.特技演员，杂技演员 | |
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34
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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36
succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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38
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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40
smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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41
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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42
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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43
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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44
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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45
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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46
hacks
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| 黑客 | |
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47
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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48
criticise
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| v.批评，评论；非难 | |
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49
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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50
sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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51
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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52
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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53
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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54
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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55
discomforts
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| n.不舒适( discomfort的名词复数 )；不愉快，苦恼 | |
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56
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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