That evening the new manager of the Mill stayed for supper at the Martin cottage. It was the first time since he had left the old house next door for his school in a distant city that he had eaten a meal with these friends of his boyhood.
Perhaps because their minds were so filled with things they could not speak, their talk was a little restrained. Captain Charlie attempted a jest or two; John did his best, and Mary helped them all she could. The old workman, save for a kindly1 word now and then to make the son of Adam Ward2 feel at home, was silent.
But when the supper was over and the twilight3 was come and they had carried their chairs out on the lawn where, in their boy and girl days they had romped4 away so many twilight hours, the weight of the present was lifted. While Peter Martin smoked his pipe and listened, the three made merry over the adventures of their childhood, until the old house next door, so deserted5 and forlorn, must have felt that the days so long past were come again.
It was rather late when John finally said goodnight. As he drove homeward he told himself many times that it had been one of the happiest evenings he had ever spent. He wondered why.
The big house on the hill, as he approached the iron gates, seemed strangely grim and forbidding. The soft darkness of the starlit night invited him to stay out of doors. Reluctantly, half in mind to turn back, he drove slowly up the long driveway. The sight of McIver's big car waiting decided6 him. He did not wish to meet the factory owner that evening. He would wait a while before going indoors. Finding a comfortable lawn chair not far from the front of the house, he filled his pipe.
As he sat there, many things unbidden and apparently7 without purpose passed in leisurely8 succession through his mind. Bits of boyhood experiences, long forgotten and called up now, no doubt, by his evening at the cottage that had once been as much his home as the old house itself. How inseparable the four children had been! Fragments of his army life--what an awakening9 it had all been for him! The coming struggle with the followers10 of Jake Vodell--his new responsibilities. He had feared that his comradeship with Charlie might be weakened--well, that was settled now. He was glad they had had their talk.
The door of the house opened and McIver came down the steps to his automobile11. For a moment Helen stood framed against the bright light of the interior, then the car rolled away. The door was closed.
John recalled what his father had said. Would his sister finally accept McIver? For a long time the factory owner had been pressing his suit. Would she marry him at last? A combination of the Ward Mill and the McIver factory would be a mighty12 power in the manufacturing world. He dismissed the thought. He wished that Helen were more like Mary. His sister was a wonderful woman in his eyes--he was proud of her; but again his mind went back to the workman's home and to his happy evening there. His own home was so different. His mother! What a splendid old man Uncle Peter was!
John Ward's musings were suddenly disturbed by a faint sound. Turning his head, he saw the form of a man, dark and shadowy in the faint light of the stars, moving toward the house. John held his place silently, alert and ready. Cautiously the dark form crept forward with frequent pauses as if to look about. Then, as the figure stood for a moment silhouetted13 against a lighted window of the house, John recognized his father.
At the involuntary exclamation14 which escaped the younger man Adam whirled as if to run.
John spoke15, quietly, "That you, father?"
The man came quickly to his son. With an odd nervous laugh, he said, "Lord, boy, but you startled me! What are you doing out here at this time of the night?"
"Just enjoying a quiet smoke and looking at the stars," John answered, easily.
It was evident that Adam Ward was intensely excited. His voice shook with nervous agitation16 and he looked over his shoulder and peered into the surrounding darkness as if dreading17 some lurking18 danger.
"I couldn't sleep," he muttered, in a low cautious tone. "Dreams--nothing in them of course--all foolishness--nerves are all shot to pieces."
He dropped down on the seat beside his son, then sprang to his feet again. "Did you hear that?" he whispered, and stooping low, he tried to see into the shadows of the shrubbery behind John.
The younger man spoke soothingly19. "There is nothing here, father, sit down and take it easy."
"You don't know what you're talking about," retorted Adam Ward. "I tell you they are after me--there's no telling what they will do--poison--a gun--infernal machines through the mail--bomb. No one has any sympathy with me, not even my family. All these years I have worked for what I have and now nobody cares. All they want is what they can get out of me. And you--you'll find out! I saw your car in front of Martin's again this evening. You'd better keep away from there. Peter Martin is dangerous. He would take everything I have away from me if he could."
John tried in vain to calm his father, but in a voice harsh with passion he continued, and as he spoke, he moved his hands and arms constantly with excited and vehement20 gestures.
"That process is mine, I tell you. The best lawyers I could get have fixed21 up the patents. Pete Martin is an old fool. I'll see him in his grave before--" he checked himself as if fearing his own anger would betray him. As he paced up and he muttered to himself, "I built up the business and I can tear it down. I'll blow up the Mill. I--" his voice trailed off into hoarse22 unintelligible23 sounds.
John Ward could not speak. He believed that his father's strange fears for the loss of his property were due to nothing more than his nervous trouble. Peter Martin's name, which Adam in his most excited moments nearly always mentioned in this manner, meant nothing more to John than the old workman's well-known leadership in the Mill workers' union.
Suddenly Adam turned again to his son, and coming close asked in a whisper, "John--I--is there really a hell, John? I mean such as the preachers used to tell about. Does a man go from this life to the horrors of eternal punishment? Does he, son?"
"Why, father, I--" John started to reply, but Adam interrupted him with, "Never mind; you wouldn't know any more than any one else about it. The preachers ought to know, though. Seems like there must be some way of finding out. I dreamed--"
As if he had forgotten the presence of his son, he suddenly started away toward the house.
Not until John Ward had assured himself that his father was safely in his room and apparently sleeping at last, did he go to his own apartment.
But the new manager of the Mill did not at once retire. He did not even turn on the lights. For a long time he stood at the darkened window, looking out into the night. "What was it?" he asked himself again and again. "What was it his father feared?"
In the distance he could see a tiny spot of light shining high against the shadowy hillside above the darkness of the Flats. It was a lighted window in the Interpreter's hut.
* * * * *
As they sat in the night on the balcony porch, Jake Vodell said harshly to the old basket maker24, "You shall tell me about this Adam Ward, comrade. I hear many things. From what you say of your friendship with him in the years when he was a workman in the Mill and from your friendship with his son and daughter you must know better than any one else. Is it true that it was his new patented process that made him so rich?"
"The new process was undoubtedly25 the foundation of his success," answered the Interpreter, "but it was the man's peculiar26 genius that enabled him to recognize the real value of the process and to foresee how it would revolutionize the industry. And it was his ability as an organizer and manager, together with his capacity for hard work, that enabled him to realize his vision. It is easily probable that not one of his fellow workmen could have developed and made use of the discovery as he has."
Jake Vodell's black brows were raised with quickened interest. "This new process was a discovery then? It was not the result of research and experiment?"
The Interpreter seemed to answer reluctantly. "It was an accidental discovery, as many such things are."
The agitator27 must have noticed that the old basket maker did not wish to talk of Adam Ward's patented process, but he continued his questions.
"Peter Martin was working in the Mill at the time of this wonderful discovery, was he?"
"Yes."
"Oh! and Peter and Adam were friends, too?"
"Yes."
The Interpreter's guest shrugged28 his shoulders and scowled29 his righteous indignation. "And all these years that Adam Ward has been building up this Mill that grinds the bodies and souls of his fellow men into riches for himself and makes from the life blood of his employees the dollars that his son and daughter spend in wicked luxury--all these years his old friend Peter Martin has toiled30 for him exactly as the rest of his slaves have toiled. Bah! And still the priests and preachers make the people believe there is a God of Justice."
The Interpreter replied, slowly, "It may be after all, sir, that Peter Martin is richer than Adam Ward."
"How richer?" demanded the other. "When he lives in a poor little house, with no servants, no automobiles31, no luxuries of any kind, and must work every day in the Mill with his son, while his daughter Mary slaves at the housekeeping for her father and brother! Look at Adam Ward and his great castle of a home--look at his possessions--at the fortune he will leave his children. Bah! Mr. Interpreter, do not talk to me such foolishness."
"Is it foolishness to count happiness as wealth?" asked the Interpreter.
"Happiness?" growled32 the other. "Is there such a thing? What does the laboring33 man know of happiness?"
And the Interpreter answered, "Peter Martin, in the honorable peace and contentment of his useful years, and in the love of his family and friends, is the happiest man I have ever known. While Adam Ward--"
Jake Vodell sprang to his feet as if the Interpreter's words exhausted34 his patience, while he spoke as one moved by a spirit of contemptuous intolerance. "You talk like a sentimental35 old woman. How is it possible that there should be happiness and contentment anywhere when all is injustice36 and slavery under this abominable37 capitalist system? First we shall have liberty--freedom--equality--then perhaps we may begin to talk of happiness. Is Sam Whaley and his friends who live down there in their miserable38 hovels--is Sam Whaley happy?"
"Sam Whaley has had exactly the same opportunity for happiness that Peter Martin has had," answered the Interpreter. "Opportunity, yes," snarled39 the other. "Opportunity to cringe and whine40 and beg his master for a chance to live like a dog in a kennel41, while he slaves to make his owners rich. Do you know what this man McIver says? I will tell you, Mr. Interpreter--you who prattle42 about a working man's happiness. McIver says that the laboring classes should be driven to their work with bayonets--that if his factory employees strike they will be forced to submission43 by the starvation of their women and children. Happiness! You shall see what we will do to this man McIver before we talk of happiness. And you shall see what will happen to this castle of Adam Ward's and to this Mill that he says is his."
"I think I should tell you, sir," said the Interpreter, calmly, "that in your Millsburgh campaign, at least, you are already defeated."
"Defeated! Hah! That is good! And who do you say has defeated me, before I have commenced even to fight, heh?"
"You are defeated by Adam Ward's retirement44 from business," came the strange reply.
收听单词发音 |
1
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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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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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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romped
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| v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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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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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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7
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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8
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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9
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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13
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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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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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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dreading
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| v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
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18
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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20
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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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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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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maker
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| n.制造者，制造商 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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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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agitator
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| n.鼓动者；搅拌器 | |
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28
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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29
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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31
automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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32
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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33
laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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34
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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35
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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36
injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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37
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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38
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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39
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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40
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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41
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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42
prattle
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| n.闲谈；v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话；发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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43
submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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44
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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