At the foot of the stairs Faxon ran against a servant. “I should like to telephone to Weymore,” he said with dry lips.
“Sorry, sir; wires all down. We’ve been trying the last hour to get New York again for Mr. Lavington.”
Faxon shot on to his room, burst into it, and bolted the door. The lamplight lay on furniture, flowers, books; in the ashes a log still glimmered2. He dropped down on the sofa and hid his face. The room was profoundly silent, the whole house was still: nothing about him gave a hint of what was going on, darkly and dumbly, in the room he had flown from, and with the covering of his eyes oblivion and reassurance3 seemed to fall on him. But they fell for a moment only; then his lids opened again to the monstrous4 vision. There it was, stamped on his pupils, a part of him forever, an indelible horror burnt into his body and brain. But why into his—just his? Why had he alone been chosen to see what he had seen? What business was it of his, in God’s name? Any one of the others, thus enlightened, might have exposed the horror and defeated it; but he, the one weaponless and defenceless spectator, the one whom none of the others would believe or understand if he attempted to reveal what he knew—he alone had been singled out as the victim of this dreadful initiation5!
Suddenly he sat up, listening: he had heard a step on the stairs. Some one, no doubt, was coming to see how he was—to urge him, if he felt better, to go down and join the smokers6. Cautiously he opened his door; yes, it was young Rainer’s step. Faxon looked down the passage, remembered the other stairway and darted7 to it. All he wanted was to get out of the house. Not another instant would he breathe its abominable8 air! What business was it of his, in God’s name?
He reached the opposite end of the lower gallery, and beyond it saw the hall by which he had entered. It was empty, and on a long table he recognized his coat and cap. He got into his coat, unbolted the door, and plunged9 into the purifying night.
The darkness was deep, and the cold so intense that for an instant it stopped his breathing. Then he perceived that only a thin snow was falling, and resolutely10 he set his face for flight. The trees along the avenue marked his way as he hastened with long strides over the beaten snow. Gradually, while he walked, the tumult11 in his brain subsided12. The impulse to fly still drove him forward, but he began feel that he was flying from a terror of his own creating, and that the most urgent reason for escape was the need of hiding his state, of shunning13 other eyes till he should regain14 his balance.
He had spent the long hours in the train in fruitless broodings on a discouraging situation, and he remembered how his bitterness had turned to exasperation15 when he found that the Weymore sleigh was not awaiting him. It was absurd, of course; but, though he had joked with Rainer over Mrs. Culme’s forgetfulness, to confess it had cost a pang16. That was what his rootless life had brought him to: for lack of a personal stake in things his sensibility was at the mercy of such trifles.... Yes; that, and the cold and fatigue17, the absence of hope and the haunting sense of starved aptitudes18, all these had brought him to the perilous19 verge20 over which, once or twice before, his terrified brain had hung.
Why else, in the name of any imaginable logic21, human or devilish, should he, a stranger, be singled out for this experience? What could it mean to him, how was he related to it, what bearing had it on his case?... Unless, indeed, it was just because he was a stranger—a stranger everywhere—because he had no personal life, no warm screen of private egotisms to shield him from exposure, that he had developed this abnormal sensitiveness to the vicissitudes22 of others. The thought pulled him up with a shudder23. No! Such a fate was too abominable; all that was strong and sound in him rejected it. A thousand times better regard himself as ill, disorganized, deluded24, than as the predestined victim of such warnings!
He reached the gates and paused before the darkened lodge25. The wind had risen and was sweeping26 the snow into his race. The cold had him in its grasp again, and he stood uncertain. Should he put his sanity27 to the test and go back? He turned and looked down the dark drive to the house. A single ray shone through the trees, evoking28 a picture of the lights, the flowers, the faces grouped about that fatal room. He turned and plunged out into the road....
He remembered that, about a mile from Overdale, the coachman had pointed29 out the road to Northridge; and he began to walk in that direction. Once in the road he had the gale30 in his face, and the wet snow on his moustache and eye-lashes instantly hardened to ice. The same ice seemed to be driving a million blades into his throat and lungs, but he pushed on, the vision of the warm room pursuing him.
The snow in the road was deep and uneven31. He stumbled across ruts and sank into drifts, and the wind drove against him like a granite32 cliff. Now and then he stopped, gasping33, as if an invisible hand had tightened34 an iron band about his body; then he started again, stiffening35 himself against the stealthy penetration36 of the cold. The snow continued to descend37 out of a pall38 of inscrutable darkness, and once or twice he paused, fearing he had missed the road to Northridge; but, seeing no sign of a turn, he ploughed on.
At last, feeling sure that he had walked for more than a mile, he halted and looked back. The act of turning brought immediate39 relief, first because it put his back to the wind, and then because, far down the road, it showed him the gleam of a lantern. A sleigh was coming—a sleigh that might perhaps give him a lift to the village! Fortified40 by the hope, he began to walk back toward the light. It came forward very slowly, with unaccountable sigsags and waverings; and even when he was within a few yards of it he could catch no sound of sleigh-bells. Then it paused and became stationary41 by the roadside, as though carried by a pedestrian who had stopped, exhausted42 by the cold. The thought made Faxon hasten on, and a moment later he was stooping over a motionless figure huddled43 against the snow-bank. The lantern had dropped from its bearer’s hand, and Faxon, fearfully raising it, threw its light into the face of Frank Rainer.
“Rainer! What on earth are you doing here?”
The boy smiled back through his pallour. “What are you, I’d like to know?” he retorted; and, scrambling44 to his feet with a clutch oh Faxon’s arm, he added gaily45: “Well, I’ve run you down!”
Faxon stood confounded, his heart sinking. The lad’s face was grey.
“What madness—” he began.
“Yes, it is. What on earth did you do it for?”
“I? Do what?... Why I.... I was just taking a walk.... I often walk at night....”
Frank Rainer burst into a laugh. “On such nights? Then you hadn’t bolted?”
“Bolted?”
“Because I’d done something to offend you? My uncle thought you had.”
Faxon grasped his arm. “Did your uncle send you after me?”
“Well, he gave me an awful rowing for not going up to your room with you when you said you were ill. And when we found you’d gone we were frightened—and he was awfully46 upset—so I said I’d catch you.... You’re not ill, are you?”
“Ill? No. Never better.” Faxon picked up the lantern. “Come; let’s go back. It was awfully hot in that dining-room.”
“Yes; I hoped it was only that.”
“Oh, no. It’s a lot easier with the wind behind us.”
“All right. Don’t talk any more.”
They pushed ahead, walking, in spite of the light that guided them, more slowly than Faxon had walked alone into the gale. The fact of his companion’s stumbling against a drift gave Faxon a pretext48 for saying: “Take hold of my arm,” and Rainer obeying, gasped49 out: “I’m blown!”
“So am I. Who wouldn’t be?”
“What a dance you led me! If it hadn’t been for one of the servants happening to see you—”
Rainer laughed and hung on him. “Oh, the cold doesn’t hurt me....”
For the first few minutes after Rainer had overtaken him, anxiety for the lad had been Faxon’s only thought. But as each labouring step carried them nearer to the spot he had been fleeing, the reasons for his flight grew more ominous51 and more insistent52. No, he was not ill, he was not distraught and deluded—he was the instrument singled out to warn and save; and here he was, irresistibly53 driven, dragging the victim back to his doom54!
The intensity55 of the conviction had almost checked his steps. But what could he do or say? At all costs he must get Rainer out of the cold, into the house and into his bed. After that he would act.
The snow-fall was thickening, and as they reached a stretch of the road between open fields the wind took them at an angle, lashing56 their faces with barbed thongs57. Rainer stopped to take breath, and Faxon felt the heavier pressure of his arm.
“When we get to the lodge, can’t we telephone to the stable for a sleigh?”
“If they’re not all asleep at the lodge.”
At length the lantern ray showed ruts that curved away from the road under tree-darkness.
Faxon’s spirits rose. “There’s the gate! We’ll be there in five minutes.”
As he spoke59 he caught, above the boundary hedge, the gleam of a light at the farther end of the dark avenue. It was the same light that had shone on the scene of which every detail was burnt into his brain; and he felt again its overpowering reality. No—he couldn’t let the boy go back!
They were at the lodge at last, and Faxon was hammering on the door. He said to himself: “I’ll get him inside first, and make them give him a hot drink. Then I’ll see—I’ll find an argument....”
There was no answer to his knocking, and after an interval60 Rainer said: “Look here—we’d better go on.”
“No!”
“I can, perfectly—”
“You sha’n’t go to the house, I say!” Faxon redoubled his blows, and at length steps sounded on the stairs. Rainer was leaning against the lintel, and as the door opened the light from the hall flashed on his pale face and fixed61 eyes. Faxon caught him by the arm and drew him in.
“It was cold out there.” he sighed; and then, abruptly62, as if invisible shears63 at a single stroke had cut every muscle in his body, he swerved64, drooped65 on Faxon’s arm, and seemed to sink into nothing at his feet.
The lodge-keeper and Faxon bent66 over him, and somehow, between them, lifted him into the kitchen and laid him on a sofa by the stove.
The lodge-keeper, stammering67: “I’ll ring up the house,” dashed out of the room. But Faxon heard the words without heeding68 them: omens69 mattered nothing now, beside this woe70 fulfilled. He knelt down to undo71 the fur collar about Rainer’s throat, and as he did so he felt a warm moisture on his hands. He held them up, and they were red....
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1
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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initiation
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| n.开始 | |
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smokers
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| 吸烟者( smoker的名词复数 ) | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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shunning
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的现在分词 ) | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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aptitudes
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| （学习方面的）才能，资质，天资( aptitude的名词复数 ) | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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vicissitudes
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| n.变迁，世事变化；变迁兴衰( vicissitude的名词复数 )；盛衰兴废 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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24
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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27
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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28
evoking
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| 产生，引起，唤起( evoke的现在分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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33
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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35
stiffening
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| n. (使衣服等)变硬的材料, 硬化 动词stiffen的现在分词形式 | |
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36
penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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37
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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39
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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40
fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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41
stationary
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| adj.固定的，静止不动的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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43
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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44
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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45
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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46
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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47
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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48
pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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49
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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50
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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51
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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52
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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53
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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54
doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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55
intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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56
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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57
thongs
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| 的东西 | |
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58
plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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59
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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60
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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61
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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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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shears
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| n.大剪刀 | |
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64
swerved
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| v.（使）改变方向，改变目的( swerve的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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67
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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68
heeding
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的现在分词 ) | |
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omens
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| n.前兆，预兆( omen的名词复数 ) | |
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70
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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71
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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