That which is frequently termed coincidence is, as everyone knows, seldom an isolated1 event; it is the fact that two or more events, neither of them, perhaps, of any precise and definite importance, occur simultaneously2, each event having some particular bearing on the other. If the events should chance to be more than two, the coincidence is termed extraordinary; and if they should chance to be several, and, also, individually of some importance—well, then I pity the man who narrates3 them to an unsympathetic audience. If he isn’t branded a liar5 out and out, he will, at least, be thought to be possessed6 of an imagination which is first cousin to one. If he isn’t despised, he will be pitied,—pitied, too, with a patronizing commiseration7 which will make his blood boil. Asseveration of the truth of his statement will be worse than useless. It will merely call forth8 a [Pg 310]smile, a kindly9 condescending10 smile, which says plainer than spoken words:
“Oh, yes, we know you believe it to be true. But these things don’t happen.”
And if, in the face of that exasperating11 smile he should venture on protest, he will at once receive the gently amazed reply:
“My dear fellow, I never said I doubted your word.”
Of course it is foolish to care. Truth is truth, and there’s the end on’t. But he does care. He knows his statement has been marvellous, incredulous; he knows, too, that he has probably been a fool to mention it. But having done so, he wants belief. The man who will remark with inner conviction, “Truth is stranger than fiction,” would be a godsend to him at the moment. But the man who will say that of another’s narrative13 is a rara avis. He reserves it as the Amen to his own.
Yet, in spite of knowing all this, it is my lot to narrate4 certain extraordinary coincidences in the forthcoming pages. Therefore I can only trust [Pg 311]that my audience will be a trifle less incredulous than the majority of audiences. Perhaps if it weren’t for one of the events, which certainly smacks15 of the miraculous16, I might have more hope.
However, to proceed.
You have been given one event in the preceding chapter.
The second concerns Antony.
It was the nursemaid who did the mischief17, since, in one sense, it must certainly be termed mischief. It all arose from an ill-advised remark. Possibly exasperation18 caused it. We’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. It is true that Biddy being, at the moment, a victim to severe toothache, extra work had been laid on Louisa’s shoulders. Had Biddy been present, you may be very sure that the remark had not been made.
Antony had taken the loss of his title calmly. This was hardly surprising. After all, it made extraordinarily19 little difference. It was seldom that he heard it, and then only from the lips of comparative strangers. “The little master,” was infinitely20 more familiar to him, and there was still no earthly reason for changing that mode of address. The prospect21 of a new home was also [Pg 312]taken philosophically22; there was, indeed, a certain amount of excitement about it.
But one Friday morning—to be accurate, it was the very morning of the somewhat momentous23 conversation recently referred to—further enquiry entered his mind.
“If I aren’t Sir Antony, what are I?” he demanded of a busy nursemaid.
“Nobody particular,” replied Louisa, who, hunting for some mislaid article, had no mind to give to problems.
“I must be somebody,” he argued.
“Everybody is somebody,” retorted Louisa, “but it don’t mean they’re anybody of importance.”
“What’s importance?” he demanded.
“Bless the child!” cried Louisa, “why, you was important when you was Sir Antony. Now you’re of no more account than a beggar boy.”
Antony flushed. Resentment27 rose hot within his soul.
“I aren’t a beggar boy,” he announced with dignity.
[Pg 313]
Antony planted himself squarely in front of her.
“Louisa, I aren’t a beggar boy. Say I aren’t a beggar boy.”
Now at that precise moment Louisa ran a pin into her finger. It must be confessed that it was a painful prick25.
“You are a beggar boy,” she retorted, her finger to her mouth. “Nothing but a beggar boy.” The tone of the concluding words verged29 on the malicious30. Then she bounced out of the room to seek elsewhere for what she had lost.
Antony walked over to the window.
His face was flushed, and his eyes were troubled; indeed there was a suspicion of moisture about them. He felt a distinct uneasiness at the statement. The only modicum31 of comfort lay in the fact that it had certainly been prompted by ill-temper. Yet even that fact brought but small assurance with it. Two or three experiences had shown him that crossness occasionally urged truth to the fore14, when kindness would shield you from its unpleasantness.
Memory, stirring uneasily, awoke.
[Pg 314]
There was the time when Buffey died. Buffey was the Irish terrier. At first he had been merely told that Buffey had gone away. Continual, and perhaps over-persistent questioning, had elicited32 the fact of Buffey’s demise33. Biddy had been cross when she told him, and she was sorry afterwards. But, still, it had been the truth. No subsequent regret could alter that fact. Possibly this was the truth now.
From possibility, the thing became a certainty. He remembered glances at him, whispers—unnoticed at the time—of “poor little Antony”; conversations checked at his approach. They came back to him now, not fully34, but vaguely35, holding significance. Probably Granny couldn’t prevent this any more than she could prevent Buffey dying. And she had told him she couldn’t help that.
He began to experience a strange terror.
There is no dread36 as terrible as the dread a child suffers at the hint of some unknown calamity37. He feels it must strike, but does not know at which moment, nor from which quarter the blow will fall. In most childish sufferings there is always a certain consolation38 in the knowledge of protection[Pg 315] by some older person. But when there is reason to suppose that these natural protectors are powerless to aid, terror indeed presses hard.
It pressed hard on Antony now.
The room seemed too small to hold it. Blindly he turned from the window, ran stumbling from the nursery, down the stairs, and out into the garden. He ran past the flower beds, and the sun-dial, and the close-clipped yew39 hedges, till he found himself in a small paddock. There he sat down under the hedge and began to review the situation.
A beggar boy!
He had no precise understanding of what the words meant, nevertheless he fancied they were closely akin40 to the description of Hans Anderson’s little match girl, who warmed her blue fingers at the matches till she died. The story was at once fascinating and terrifying. Aunt Rosamund had read it to him only once. After the one reading she had suggested the Little Tin Soldier, Thumbelina, or the Ugly Duckling. Nevertheless the story had remained with him.
Rags, cold, and burnt matches, and finally dying! His lips quivered, and tears came into his eyes.
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1
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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narrates
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| v.故事( narrate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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narrate
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| v.讲，叙述 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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commiseration
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| n.怜悯，同情 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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demurred
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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rummaging
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| 翻找，搜寻( rummage的现在分词 )； 海关检查 | |
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verged
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| 接近，逼近（verge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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modicum
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| n.少量，一小份 | |
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elicited
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| 引出，探出( elicit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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yew
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| n.紫杉属树木 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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