"As the earth when leaves are dead,
As the night when sleep is sped,
As the heart when joy is fled,
I am left lone—alone."
—Shelley.
Meantime, Molly, having listened vaguely1 and without interest, yet with a curious intentness, to his parting footfalls, as the last one dies away draws herself up and, with a sigh or two, moves instinctively2 toward the door she had pointed3 out to Luttrell.
No one has told her, no hint has reached her ears. It is not his usual bedroom, yet she knows that within that door lies all that remains4 to her of the brother so fondly loved.
With slow and lagging steps, with bent5 head and averted6 eyes, she creeps tardily7 near, resting with her hand upon the lock to summon courage to meet what must be before her. She feels faint,—sick with a bodily sickness,—for never yet has she come face to face with Death.
At last, bringing her teeth firmly together, and closing her eyes, by an immense effort she compels herself to turn the handle of the door, and enters.
Letitia is seated upon the floor beside the bed, her head lowered, her hands folded tightly in her lap. There is no appearance of mourning so far as garments are concerned. Of course, considering the shortness of the time, it would be impossible: yet it seems odd, out of keeping, that she should still be wearing that soft blue serge, which is associated with so many happy hours.
She is not weeping: there are no traces, however faint, of tears. Her cheeks look a little thinner, more haggard, and she has lost the delicate girlish color that was her chief charm; but her eyes, though black circles surround them,—so black as to suggest the appliance of art,—have an unnatural8 brilliancy that utterly9 precludes10 the possibility of crying.
Some one has pulled a piece of the blind to one side, and a fitful gleam of sunlight, that dances in a heartless manner, flickers11 in and out of the room, nay12, even strays in its ghastly mirth across the bed where the poor body lies.
As Molly walks, or rather drags her limbs after her, into the chamber13 (so deadly is the terror that has seized upon her), Letitia slowly raises her eyes.
She evinces no surprise at her sister's home-coming.
"There is all that is left you," she says, in a hard, slow voice, that makes Molly shiver, turning her head in the direction of the bed, and opening and shutting her hands with a peculiarly expressive14, empty gesture. Afterward15 she goes back to her original position, her face bent downward, her body swaying gently to and fro.
Reluctantly, with trembling steps and hidden eyes, Molly forces herself to approach the dreaded17 spot. For the first time she is about to look on our undying foe,—to make acquaintance with the last great change of all.
A cold hand has closed upon her heart; she is consumed by an awesome18, unconquerable shrinking. She feels a difficulty in breathing; almost she thinks her senses are about to desert her.
As she reaches the side of the bed opposite to where Letitia crouches19, she compels herself to look, and for the moment sustains a passionate20 feeling of relief, as the white sheet that covers all alone meets her gaze.
And yet not all. A second later, and a dread16 more awful than the first overpowers her, for there, beneath the fair, pure linen21 shroud22, the features are clearly marked, the form can be traced; she can assure herself of the shape of the head,—the nose,—the hands folded so quietly, so obediently, in their last eternal sleep upon the cold breast. But no faintest breathing stirs them. He is dead!
Her eyes grow to this fearful thing. To steady herself she lays her hand upon the back of a chair. Not for all the world contains would she lean upon that bed, lest by any chance she should disturb the quiet sleeper23. The other hand she puts out in trembling silence to raise a corner of the sheet.
"I cannot," she groans24 aloud, withdrawing her fingers shudderingly25. But no one heeds26. Three times she essays to throw back the covering, to gaze upon her dead, and fails; and then at last the deed is accomplished27, and Death in all its silent majesty28 lies smiling before her.
Is it John? Yes, it is, of course. And yet—is it? Oh, the changeless sweetness of the smile,—the terrible shading,—the moveless serenity29!
Spell-bound, heart-broken, she gazes at him for a minute, and then hastily, though with the tenderest reverence30, she hides away his face. A heavy, bursting sigh escapes her; she raises her head, and becomes conscious that Letitia is upon her knees and is staring at her fixedly31 across the bed.
There is about her an expression that is almost wild in its surprise and horror.
"You do not cry either," says she, in a clear, intense whisper. "I thought I was the only thing on earth so unnatural. I have not wept. I have not lost my senses. I can still think. I have lost my all,—my husband,—John!—and yet I have not shed one single tear. And you, Molly,—he loved you so dearly, and I fancied you loved him too,—and still you are as cold, as poor a creature as myself."
There is no reply. Molly is regarding her speechlessly. In truth, she is dumb from sheer misery32 and the remembrance of what she has just seen. Are Letitia's words true? Is she heartless?
There is a long silence,—how long neither of them ever knows,—and then something happens that achieves what all the despair and sorrow have failed in doing. In the house, through it, awakening33 all the silence, rings a peal34 of childish laughter. It echoes; it trembles along the corridor outside; it seems to shake the very walls of the death-chamber.
Both the women start violently. Molly, raising her hands to her head, falls back against the wall nearest to her, unutterable horror in her face. Letitia, with a quick, sharp cry, springs to her feet, and then, running to Molly, flings her arms around her.
"Molly, Molly," she exclaims, wildly, "am I going mad? That cannot—it cannot be his child."
Then they cling to each other in silent agony, until at length some cruel band around their hearts gives way, and the sorrowful, healing, blessed tears spring forth35.
The last sad scene is over; the curtain has fallen. The final separation has taken place. Their dead has been buried out of their sight.
The room in which he lay has been thrown open, the blinds raised, the windows lifted. Through them the sweet, fresh wind comes rushing in. The heartless sun—now grown cold and wintry—has sent some of its rays to peer curiously36 where so lately the body lay.
The children are growing more demonstrative. More frequently, and with less fear of reproof37, the sound of their mirth is heard throughout the silent house. Only this very morning the boy Lovat—the eldest38 born, his father's idol—went whistling through the hall. No doubt it was in a moment of forgetfulness he did it; no doubt the poor lad checked himself an instant later, with a bitter pang39 of self-reproach; but his mother heard him, and the sound smote40 her to the heart.
Mr. Buscarlet (who is a kind little man, in spite of his "ways and his manners" and a few eccentricities41 of speech), at a word from Molly comes to Brooklyn, and, having carefully examined letters, papers, and affairs generally, turns their fears into unhappy certainty. One thousand pounds is all that remains to them on which to live or starve.
The announcement of their ruin is hardly news to Letitia. She has been prepared for it. The letter found crushed in her dead husband's hand, although suppressing half the truth, did not deceive her. Even at that awful moment she quite realized her position. Not so Molly. With all the unreasoning trust of youth she hoped against hope until it was no longer possible to do so, trying to believe that something forgotten would come to light, some unremembered sum, to relieve them from absolute want. But Mr. Buscarlet's search has proved ineffective.
Now, however, when hope is actually at an end, all her natural self-reliance and bravery return to her; and in the very mouth of despair she makes a way for herself and for those whom she loves to escape.
After two nights' wakeful hesitation43, shrinking, doubt, and fear, she forms a resolution, from which she never afterward turns aside until compelled to do so by unrestrainable circumstances.
"It is a very distressing44 case," says Mr. Buscarlet, blowing his nose oppressively,—the more so that he feels for her very sincerely; "distressing, indeed. I don't know one half so afflicting45. I really do—not—see what is to be done."
"Do not think me presumptuous46 if I say I do," says Molly. "I have a plan already formed, and, if it succeeds, I shall at least be able to earn bread for us all."
"My dear young lady, how? You with—ahem!—you must excuse me if I say—your youth and beauty, how do you propose to earn your bread?"
"It is my secret as yet,"—with a faint wan42 smile. "Let me keep it a little longer. Not even Mrs. Massereene knows of it. Indeed, it is too soon to proclaim my design. People might scoff47 it; though for all that I shall work it out. And something tells me I shall succeed."
"Yes, yes, we all think we shall succeed when young," says the old lawyer, sadly, moved to keenest compassion48 at sight of the beautiful, earnest face before him. "It is later on, when we are faint and weary with the buffetings of fortune, the sad awakening comes."
"I shall not be disheartened by rebuffs; I shall not fail," says Molly, intently. "However cold and ungenerous the world may prove, I shall conquer it at last. Victory shall stay with me."
"Well, well, I would not discourage any one. There are none so worthy49 of praise as those who seek to work out their own independence, whether they live or die in the struggle. But work—of the sort you mean—is hard for one so young. You have a plan. Well, so have I. But have you never thought of your grandfather? He is very kindly50 disposed toward you; and if he——"
"I have no time for 'buts' and 'ifs,'" she interrupts him, gently. "My grandfather may be kindly disposed toward me, but not toward mine,—and that counts for much more. No, I must fall back upon myself alone. I have quite made up my mind," says Molly, throwing up her small proud head, with a brave smile, "and the knowledge makes me more courageous51. I feel so strong to do, so determined52 to vanquish53 all obstacles, that I know I shall neither break down nor fail."
"I trust not, my dear; I trust not. You have my best wishes, at least."
"Thank you," says Molly, pressing his kind old hand.
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1
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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7
tardily
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| adv.缓慢 | |
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8
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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9
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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precludes
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| v.阻止( preclude的第三人称单数 )；排除；妨碍；使…行不通 | |
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11
flickers
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| 电影制片业； （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的名词复数 ) | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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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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17
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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18
awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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19
crouches
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| n.蹲着的姿势( crouch的名词复数 )v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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20
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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21
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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24
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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shudderingly
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heeds
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| n.留心，注意，听从( heed的名词复数 )v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的第三人称单数 ) | |
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27
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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29
serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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30
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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34
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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40
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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42
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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afflicting
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| 痛苦的 | |
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presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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47
scoff
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| n.嘲笑，笑柄，愚弄；v.嘲笑，嘲弄，愚弄，狼吞虎咽 | |
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48
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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49
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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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
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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52
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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53
vanquish
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| v.征服，战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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