“When is it ye’re leavin’?
Is it the ocean’s heavin’
That sets your stummick grievin’,
To see what lies before?
Oh, Mounseer Buonaparte,
Upon S’thampton shore!
Chorus, gen’men, chorus!
We wait ye ri’ and hearty,
Oh, Mou’seer Buonaparte,
Upo’ S’thampton shore!”
He thumped3 the table, did that crapulous squireen, and all the others joined in, as by honour expected—like school-boys beating the bounds of time.
Truth to tell, the hour was late, the whisky-punch was low in the bowl, and the three little moon-calves were very drunk. One of them, moreover, was in process of insulting Captain Luvaine.
“You’re no’ good company, sir,” he had said, after staring at that baneful4 person for some solemn moments. “I thick you no’ goo’ company, and I—hic!—ta’ leaverer-telleso”;—and he nodded profoundly, with the air of one who has solved a long-vexing problem.
“Well, sir,” said the captain, “you’re welcome to your opinion for me.”
He had sat out the orgy; but with something a gloomy and preoccupied5 air, and with a frequent manner of impatience6 to have it ended.
“Whas you say?” said the offender7, cocking his head magisterially8. “Whas you say, sir?” Then he sang:
Jake gave Moll a push—
Derry-derry-down.
Moll fell into a bush—
Derry-down-derry.
“Is that to your taste, capt’n? or d’ye prefer somethig i’ the psalmody fashion?”
Sir David and Mr. Tuke interfered9. They had been moderate in their cups; and the latter, at least, was seasoned.
“Oh, Charlie!” said the baronet, “get off to bed with you. You’re drunk, man.”
“He’s got a face as sour as rennet, Davy. It’s cur-curdled the milk o’ human kideness in me.”
This was good for the manling. Mr. Tuke patted him on the back.
“There,” he said, “go and sleep it off. The captain gives you good-night.”
“And a ring for the hog’s snout to-morrow!” thundered the soldier.
“Fie, sir—fie!” whispered the other. “’Tis but a tipsy boy”—and with great ado, he and the baronet made a patch of the peace, and got the squireens outside and on their horses, and saw them ride off swaying.
The wind drove with gusts10 of sleet11 at them, as they turned tail and fled into the house once more; for the night had bellied12 up slurred13 and stormy, and there was a melancholy14 sound in every keyhole of the hall.
They found the soldier standing15 up grave and lowering; but his eyes took an eager look upon their re-entrance, and he stepped up to his host with an air of impatient apology.
“I was an ass16 to take offence at that pigwash,” said he—“the more so as I have been poor company, I confess; and you, sir” (he turned suddenly upon Tuke), “have been the cause of it.”
“I!” exclaimed the visitor, in a voice vibrating all the harmonics of surprise.
“You, sir. Blythewood,” said the soldier, turning upon the baronet, “I make no apology for harping18 upon an old string in your presence. You know my monomania, and the wrack19 it hath made of my peace. I have waited but for those Jack-puddings to begone, to speak.”
Then he added: “You’ll take beds here, the two of you, or we shall come to words.”
Both gentlemen protested; but the other would not listen, and he ended by carrying his point.
“And now,” said Blythewood, “charge your piece—whatever it is—and let fly at our friend; and so to t’other glass.”
Captain Luvaine’s eyes had a light of strange trouble in them, and he gnawed21 his knuckles22 nervously23.
“I startled you just now, Mr. Tuke,” he said. “’Twas some words you let fall disturbed me, so that I dropped the book.”
“Believe me, sir, I was innocent of designs on your composure.”
“I know, I know—that is, of course—how could it be otherwise?”
“How, indeed? But I am all at sea.”
“They could not have been accidental. No, ’twas impossible. And yet—you uttered the words, sir—‘the Lake of Wine’—there was no mistake. I heard you.”
“And what then, Captain Luvaine? Do I deny it?”
“No, no. Only—oh, sir! the lady says ‘What mystery?’ and you answer ‘The Lake of Wine.’ Could that be an invention—a mere24 playful fancy? ’Tis out of reason.”
At the first reference to this strange title, Sir David had given a low whistle; and he now came forward and took the soldier by the sleeve.
“Harkee, Luvaine!” he said. “Here’s the yeast25 to work ye up like a pan of bread. Did he say that? Then it’s a strange thing, by God. But, steady, man. And, what d’ye say?—shall I, before more’s spoke26, give Mr. Tuke the history of your trouble?”
“Well,” he said, after a moment’s thought, “I’m like to lose command of myself whenever that nightmare gets up. Speak, Davy, and I’ll sit mum while I can.”
The baronet turned to his astonished neighbour.
“’Tis passing strange, upon my soul, that the words should be on your lips,” said he; “for ’twas the name of a great ruby29 that was stole from Luvaine’s father.”
“The Lake of Wine?”
“The Lake of Wine, sir. Ronald Luvaine was a dependent of Hastings in John Company’s pay, and received the stone in reward of some particular nice service.”
“That’s no concern of ours,” said Sir David dryly. “The point is that the gem33 was stole from Ronald Luvaine, that was my father’s friend, and that he went crazy of it and died in a year or so.”
The soldier jumped to his feet with an insane look.
“And his son,” he cried, “that should have been a rich man, succeeded to an empty legacy34 and a search of hate that shall be unending.”
He tossed one arm aloft, with a grandiose35 gesture. Mr. Tuke stared at him, his brain full of bewilderment and wonder.
“Steady, Luvaine!” said Sir David once more; then proceeded to discuss the other with admirable ingenuousness36.
“It hath made a wreck37 of his life, as he says—this sense of wrong and loss. We have been acquainted from boys—at least since I was one—and the grievance38 hath enlarged upon him with the years. Not to this day has he lighted upon any clue to the stone’s whereabouts, though the cursed red stain of it has bitten into his life.”
“It hath corroded39 me!” cried the soldier, unabashed. He seemed to think his conduct justified40 by the magnitude of his loss. “I have wrought41 for a pittance42 when I should have ruffled43 it with the highest.”
“But, how was it lost?” asked the listener, with some secret scorn for such a bitterness of avarice44 as he could not conceive would demoralize other than a contemptible45 nature.
“Proposals were made by a syndicate for its purchase,” put in Sir David hastily. “The whole thing was a monstrous46 swindle, planned with every elaboration. Ronald Luvaine was ill-advised enough to let the stone out of his hands, and——”
“There was the last of it,” cried the captain madly—“and the plunge47 for me into a hell of disappointment and misery48.”
“Not for a day since my dying father swore me to the curse of vengeance,” he cried, “has the stone been out of my mind. Judge then of my agitation50 when I hear you, a stranger, casually51 refer to it by name as having some bearing on a mystery connected with your house.”
“But not with me,” said Mr. Tuke coldly. There was something nameless in the man’s frenzy—an uncleanly savour of passion that was devoid52 of all nobility.
“I can have no objection,” he went on, “to acquaint you of the circumstances that inspired me to so unfortunate a reference.”
“If you please, sir,” said the soldier, in a tone that was almost a menace.
Sir David saw the blood leap to his new neighbour’s face.
“Humour him, humour him,” he whispered, “in the Lord’s name!”
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Tuke, “if you will give me your attention, I will endeavour to recall the matter for your behoof”—and he then and there recounted those experiences of his at “Delsrop” that had awakened53 his suspicions, ending up with the history of the interview between Mr. Joseph Corby and the crazed girl.
To this description Sir David listened with some open-mouthed astonishment54, and Captain Luvaine with a black concentration of his every faculty55 upon the minutest details.
As the speaker ended, he, the latter, blew out all his restraint in a labouring sigh, and stared before him with eyebrows56 pulled together like the strings57 of a purse.
“’Tis passing strange,” he muttered. “There can be but one Lake of Wine. Whence does the fellow come, and wherefore?”
“That, sir, I know no more than you.”
“Blythewood,” said the soldier, turning suddenly on the baronet, “has no tenant58 been in ‘Delsrop’ since the time of the gallows-bird?”
“None, Luvaine, till our friend here.”
The other addressed Mr. Tuke with icy civility.
“Perhaps I discuss what is yours with undue59 freedom, sir. My excuse must be that ‘Delsrop’ is a tradition for desolation; and to us of the neighbourhood it hath long been a thickset of mysteries. Here is another, it seems, that I little thought to connect with the place. Is it asking you too great a favour to acquaint me of developments, should they occur?”
“By no means. I will undertake that you are informed of the progress of any events that seem to touch upon a certain subject.”
The soldier bowed low, and walked to the door.
“Why, man—you are never going?” cried Sir David.
“You must hold me excused—yes. This strange recountal has vastly disturbed me. I would seek counsel of my pillow.”
The door closed behind him. Mr. Tuke turned mutely to his host.
“Zounds!” whispered the latter to his silent inquiry60. “The beggar is half off his head with life-long brooding over his grievance. The loss occurred in ’76, when I was a child—a brat17 of two or so. He was a young man when his father died, and I had the story fifty times from Ned here before I was out of my teens. His long face is one of my first remembrances. The families were connected, and he played off the privileges of cousinship upon me to the hilt, by Gad61!”
“He spoke of me as a neighbour.”
“And that he is, in a way. He settled, when he retired62 from the service, in Winchester, where his regiment63 used to lie. And there he eats out his heart, like Sir Thingumbob in the Tower, planning what he would have done if the old stone had rounded off his jointure. It was valued at £70,000, if you can believe him.”
“A melancholy story. How the wind rises!—And who was the gallows-bird he referred to?”
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1
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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2
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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3
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4
baneful
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| adj.有害的 | |
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5
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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6
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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7
offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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8
magisterially
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| adv.威严地 | |
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9
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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10
gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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11
sleet
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| n.雨雪；v.下雨雪，下冰雹 | |
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12
bellied
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| adj.有腹的，大肚子的 | |
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13
slurred
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| 含糊地说出( slur的过去式和过去分词 )； 含糊地发…的声； 侮辱； 连唱 | |
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14
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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15
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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16
ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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17
brat
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| n.孩子；顽童 | |
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18
harping
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| n.反复述说 | |
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19
wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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20
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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21
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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22
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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23
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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24
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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25
yeast
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| n.酵母；酵母片；泡沫；v.发酵；起泡沫 | |
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26
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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27
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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28
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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29
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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30
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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31
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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32
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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33
gem
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| n.宝石，珠宝；受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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34
legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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35
grandiose
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| adj.宏伟的，宏大的，堂皇的，铺张的 | |
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36
ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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37
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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38
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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39
corroded
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| 已被腐蚀的 | |
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40
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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41
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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42
pittance
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| n.微薄的薪水，少量 | |
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43
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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44
avarice
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| n.贪婪；贪心 | |
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45
contemptible
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| adj.可鄙的，可轻视的，卑劣的 | |
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46
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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47
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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48
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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49
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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50
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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51
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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52
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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53
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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54
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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55
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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56
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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57
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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58
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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59
undue
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| adj.过分的；不适当的；未到期的 | |
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60
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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61
gad
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| n.闲逛；v.闲逛 | |
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62
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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63
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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