One November morning—my suffering had endured all these months—my father and Dr. Crackenthorpe stood before the sitting-room1 fire, talking, while I sat with a book at the table, vainly trying to concentrate my attention on the printed lines.
Since my recovery I had seen the doctor frequently, but he had taken little apparent notice of me. Now, I had racked my puzzled mind many a time for recollection of the conversation I had been witness of on the night preceding my seizure2, but still the details of it had eluded3 me, though its gist4 remained in a certain impression of uneasiness that troubled me when I thought of it. Suddenly, on this morning, a few words of the doctor’s brought the whole matter vividly5 before me again.
“By the bye, Trender,” he said, drawlingly, and sat down and began to poke6 the fire—“by the bye, have you ever found that thing you accused me of losing for you on a certain night—you know when?”
“Was it of any value, now?”
“Maybe—maybe not,” said my father.
“That don’t seem much of answer. Perhaps, now, it came from the same place those others did.”
“That’s nothing to you, Dr. Crackenthorpe.”
“Well, you say it’s lost, anyhow. Supposing I found it, would you agree to my keeping it? Treasure-trove, you know”—and he looked up with a grin, balancing the poker8 perpendicularly9 in his hand. “Treasure-trove, my friend,” he repeated, with emphasis, and gave the other a keen look.
Something in the tone of his speech woke light in my brain, and I remembered at a flash. I stole an anxious glance at my father. His face was pale and set with anger, but there was an expression in his eyes that looked like fear.
“You don’t mean to tell me you have found it?” he said in a forced voice.
“Oh, by no means,” answered the doctor. “We haven’t all your good luck. Only you are so full of the unexpected in producing valuables from secret places, like a conjurer, that I thought perhaps you wouldn’t mind my keeping this particular one if I should chance to pick it up.”
“Keep it, certainly, if you can find it,” said my father, I could have thought almost with a faint groan10.
“Thanks for the permission, my friend; I’ll make a point of keeping my eyes open.”
When did he not? They were pretty observant now on Zyp and Jason, who, as he spoke11, walked into the room.
“Hullo!” said my brother. “Good-morning to you, doctor, and a sixpence to toss for your next threppenny fee.”
“Hold your tongue,” cried my father, angrily.
“I would give a guinea to get half for attending on your inquest,” said the doctor, sourly. “Keep your wit for your wench, my good lad, and see then that she don’t go begging.”
“I could give you better,” muttered Jason, cowed by my father’s presence, “but it shall keep and mature.” Then he turned boisterously12 on me.
“Why don’t you go out, Renny, instead of moping at home all day?”
His manner was aggressive, his tone calculated to exasperate13.
Moved by discretion14 I rose from my chair and made for the door; but he barred my way.
“No—I don’t want to. Let me pass.”
My father had turned his back upon us and was staring gloomily down at the fire.
I heard Zyp give a little scornful laugh and she breathed the word “coward” at me.
I stopped as if I had struck against a wall. All my blood surged back on my heart and seemed to leave my veins16 filled with a tingling17 ichor in its place.
“Perhaps I have been,” I said, in a low voice, “but here’s an end of it.”
Jason tittered.
“We’re mighty18 stiltish this morning,” he said, with a sneer19. “What a pity it’s November, so that we can’t have a plunge20 for the sake of coolness—except that they say the pool’s haunted now.”
I looked at him with blazing eyes, then made another effort to get past him, but he repelled21 me violently.
“You don’t know your place,” he said, and gave an insolent22 laugh. “Stand back till I choose to let you go.”
I heard the doctor snigger and Zyp gave a second little cluck. My father was still absorbed—lost in his own dark reflections.
The loaded reel of endurance was spinning to its end.
“You might have given all your morning to one of your Susans yonder,” said my brother, mockingly. “Now she’s gone, I expect, with her apron23 to her eyes. She’ll enjoy her pease pudding none the less, I dare say, and perhaps look out for a more accommodating clown. It won’t be the first time you’ve had to take second place.”
I struck him full between the eyes and he went down like a polled ox. All the pent-up agony of months was in my blow. As I stepped back in the recoil24, madly straining even then to beat under the more furious devil that yelled in me for release, I was conscious of a hurried breath at my ear—a swift whisper: “Kill him! Stamp on his mouth! Don’t let him get up again!” and knew that it was Zyp who spoke.
I put her back fiercely. Jason had sprung to his feet—half-blinded, half-stunned. His face was inhuman25 with passion and was working like a madman’s. But before he could gather himself for a rush, my father had him in his powerful arms. It all happened in a moment.
“What’s all this?” roared my father. “Knock under, you whelp, or I’ll strangle you in your collar!”
“Let me go!” cried my brother. “Look at him—look what he did!”
He was choking and struggling to that degree that he could hardly articulate. I think foam27 was on his lips, and in his eyes the ravenous28 thirst for blood.
“He struck me!” he panted—“do you hear? Let me go—let me kill him as he killed Modred!”
There was a moment’s silence. Dr. Crackenthorpe, who had sat passively back in his chair during the fray29, with his lips set in an acrid30 smile, made as if to rise, leaning forward with quick attention. Then my father shook Jason till he reeled and clutched at him.
“Have a mind what you say, you mad cur!” he cried in a terrible voice.
“It’s true! Let me go! He confessed it all to me—to me, I say!”
I stood up among them alone, stricken, and I was not afraid. I was a better man than my accuser; a better brother, despite my sin. And his dagger31, plunged32 in to destroy, had only released the long-accumulating agony of my poor inflamed33 and swollen34 heart.
“Father,” I said, “let him alone. It is true, what he says.”
He flung Jason from him with violence.
“Move a step,” he thundered, daring him, “and I’ll send you after Modred!”
He came to me and took me gently by the shoulder.
“Renalt, my lad,” he said, “I am waiting to hear.”
I did not falter35, or condone36 my offense37, or make any appeal to them whatsoever38. The kind touch on my arm moved me so that I could have broken into tears. But my task was before me and I could afford no atom of self-indulgence, did I wish to get through it bravely.
As I had told my story to Jason, I told it now; and when I had finished I waited, in a dead silence, the verdict. I could hear my brother breathing thickly—expectantly. His fury had passed in the triumph of his own abasement39.
Suddenly my father put the hand he had held on my shoulder before his face and a great sob40 coming from him broke down the stone walls of my pride.
“Dad—dad!” I cried in agony.
He recovered himself in a moment and moved away; then faced round and addressed me, but his eyes looked down and would not meet mine.
“Before God,” he said, “I think you are forgiven for a single impulse we all might suffer and not all of us recoil from the instant after, but I think that this can be no place for you any longer.”
Then he turned upon Dr. Crackenthorpe.
“You!” he cried; “you, man, who have heard it all, thanks to that dirty reptile41 yonder! Do you intend to peach?”
The doctor pinched his wiry chin between finger and thumb, with his cheeks lifted in a contemplative fashion.
“The boy,” he said, “is safe from any one’s malice42. No jury would convict on such evidence. Still, I agree with you, it’s best for him to go.”
“You hear, Renalt?” said my father. “I’ll not drive you in any way, or deny you harbor here if you think you can face it out. You shall judge for yourself.”
“I have judged,” I answered; “I will go.”
I walked past them all, with head erect43, and up to my room, where I sat down for a brief space to collect my thoughts and face the future. Hardly had I got hold of the first end of the tangle44 when there came a knock at the door. I opened it and Zyp was outside.
“You fool!” she whispered; “you should have done as I told you. It’s too late now. Here, take this. Dad told me to give it you”—and she thrust a canvas bag of money into my hand, looking up at me with her unfathomable eyes.
As I took it, suddenly she flung her arms about my neck and kissed me passionately45, once, twice, thrice, on the lips, and so pushed me from her and was gone. And as I stood there came to my ears a faint wail46 from above, and I said to myself doggedly47: “It is a gull48 flying over the house.”
Taking nothing with me but cap, stick and the simple suit of clothes I had on, I descended49 the stairs with a firm tread and passed the open door of the sitting-room. There was silence there, and in silence I walked by it without a glance in its direction. It held but bitter memories for me now and was scarce less haunted in its way than the other. And so to me would it always be—haunted by the beautiful wild memory of a changeling, whose coming had wrought50 the great evil of my life, to whom I, going, attributed no blame, but loved her then as I had loved her from the first.
The booming of the wheel shook, like a voice of mockery, at me as I passed the room of silence. Its paddles, I thought, seemed reeling with wicked merriment, and its creaking thunder to spin monotonously51 the burden of one chant.
“I let you go, but not to escape—I let you go, but not to escape.” The fancy haunted my mind for weeks to come.
“You don’t mean to let the grass grow on your resolve, then, Renalt?” said my father’s voice, rough and subdued53.
“No, dad; I can do no good by delaying.”
“I’m sore to let you go, my boy. But it’s for the best—it’s for the best. Don’t think hardly of me; and be a fine lad and strike out a path for yourself.”
“God bless you, dad,” I said, and so left him.
As I stepped into the frosty air the cathedral bells rung out like iron on an anvil54. The city roofs and towers sparkled with white; the sun looked through a shining mist, giving earnest of gracious hours to come.
I turned my back on the old decaying past and set my face toward London.
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1
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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seizure
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| n.没收；占有；抵押 | |
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eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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gist
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| n.要旨；梗概 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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6
poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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7
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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perpendicularly
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| adv. 垂直地, 笔直地, 纵向地 | |
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10
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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11
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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12
boisterously
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| adv.喧闹地，吵闹地 | |
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13
exasperate
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| v.激怒，使（疾病）加剧，使恶化 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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17
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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24
recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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25
inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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ravenous
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| adj.极饿的，贪婪的 | |
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fray
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| v.争吵；打斗；磨损，磨破；n.吵架；打斗 | |
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acrid
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| adj.辛辣的，尖刻的，刻薄的 | |
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dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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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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33
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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falter
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| vi.(嗓音)颤抖，结巴地说；犹豫；蹒跚 | |
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condone
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| v.宽恕；原谅 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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abasement
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| n.滥用 | |
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40
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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41
reptile
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| n.爬行动物；两栖动物 | |
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42
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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43
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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44
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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45
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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46
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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47
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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48
gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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49
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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50
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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51
monotonously
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| adv.单调地，无变化地 | |
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52
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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53
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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54
anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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