MR. HENLEY’s telegram arrived at the inn the next morning.
He was willing to receive his daughter, but not unreservedly. The message was characteristic of the man: “Yes — on trial.” Mountjoy was not shocked, was not even surprised. He knew that the successful speculations1, by means of which Mr. Henley had accumulated his wealth, had raised against him enemies, who had spread scandalous reports which had never been completely refuted. The silent secession of friends, in whose fidelity2 he trusted, had hardened the man’s heart and embittered3 his nature. Strangers in distress4, who appealed to the rich retired5 merchant for help, found in their excellent references to character the worst form of persuasion6 that they could have adopted. Paupers7 without a rag of reputation left to cover them, were the objects of charity whom Mr. Henley relieved. When he was asked to justify8 his conduct, he said: “I have a sympathy with bad characters —— I am one of them myself.”
With the arrival of the dinner hour the doctor appeared, in no very amiable9 humour, at the inn.
“Another hard day’s work,” he said; “I should sink under it, if I hadn’t a prospect10 of getting rid of my practice here. London — or the neighbourhood of London — there’s the right place for a man like Me. Well? Where’s the wonderful wine? Mind! I’m Tom–Tell-Truth; if I don’t like your French tipple11, I shall say so.”
The inn possessed12 no claret glasses; they drank the grand wine in tumblers as if it had been vin ordinaire.
Mr. Vimpany showed that he was acquainted with the formalities proper to the ceremony of tasting. He filled his makeshift glass, he held it up to the light, and looked at the wine severely13; he moved the tumbler to and fro under his nose, and smelt14 at it again and again; he paused and reflected; he tasted the claret as cautiously as if he feared it might be poisoned; he smacked15 his lips, and emptied his glass at a draught16; lastly, he showed some consideration for his host’s anxiety, and pronounced sentence on the wine.
“Not so good as you think it, sir. But nice light claret; clean and wholesome17. I hope you haven’t given too much for it?”
Thus far, Hugh had played a losing game patiently. His reward had come at last. After what the doctor had just said to him, he saw the winning card safe in his own hand.
The bad dinner was soon over. No soup, of course; fish, in the state of preservation18 usually presented by a decayed country town; steak that rivalled the toughness of india-rubber; potatoes whose aspect said, “stranger, don’t eat us”; pudding that would have produced a sense of discouragement, even in the mind of a child; and the famous English cheese which comes to us, oddly enough, from the United States, and stings us vindictively19 when we put it into our mouths. But the wine, the glorious wine, would have made amends20 to anybody but Mr. Vimpany for the woeful deficiencies of the food. Tumbler-full after tumbler-full of that noble vintage poured down his thirsty and ignorant throat; and still he persisted in declaring that it was nice light stuff, and still he unforgivingly bore in mind the badness of the dinner.
“The feeding here,” said this candid21 man, “is worse if possible than the feeding at sea, when I served as doctor on board a passenger-steamer. Shall I tell you how I lost my place? Oh, say so plainly, if you don’t think my little anecdote22 worth listening to!”
“My dear sir, I am waiting to hear it.”
“Very good. No offence, I hope? That’s right! Well, sir, the captain of the ship complained of me to the owners; I wouldn’t go round, every morning, and knock at the ladies’ cabin-doors, and ask how they felt after a sea-sick night. Who doesn’t know what they feel, without knocking at their doors? Let them send for the doctor when they want him. That was how I understood my duty; and there was the line of conduct that lost me my place. Pass the wine. Talking of ladies, what do you think of my wife? Did you ever see such distinguished23 manners before? My dear fellow, I have taken a fancy to you. Shake hands. I’ll tell you another little anecdote. Where do you think my wife picked up her fashionable airs and graces? Ho! ho! On the stage! The highest branch of the profession, sir — a tragic24 actress. If you had seen her in Lady Macbeth, Mrs. Vimpany would have made your flesh creep. Look at me, and feast your eyes on a man who is above hypocritical objections to the theatre. Haven’t I proved it by marrying an actress? But we don’t mention it here. The savages25 in this beastly place wouldn’t employ me, if they knew I had married a stage-player. Hullo! The bottle’s empty again. Ha! here’s another bottle, full. I love a man who has always got a full bottle to offer his friend. Shake hands. I say, Mountjoy, tell me on your sacred word of honour, can you keep a secret? My wife’s secret, sir! Stop! let me look at you again. I thought I saw you smile. If a man smiles at me, when I am opening my whole heart to him, by the living jingo, I would knock that man down at his own table! What? you didn’t smile? I apologise. Your hand again; I drink your health in your own good wine. Where was I? What was I talking about?”
Mountjoy carefully humoured his interesting guest.
“You were about to honour me,” he said, “by taking me into your confidence.” Mr. Vimpany stared in tipsy bewilderment. Mountjoy tried again in plainer language: “You were going to tell me a secret.”
This time, the doctor grasped the idea. He looked round cunningly to the door. “Any eavesdroppers?” he asked. “Hush26! Whisper — this is serious — whisper! What was it I was going to tell you? What was the secret, old boy?”
Mountjoy answered a little too readily: “I think it related to Mrs. Vimpany.”
Mrs. Vimpany’s husband threw himself back in his chair, snatched a dirty handkerchief out of his pocket, and began to cry.
“Here’s a false friend!” the creature whimpered. “Asks me to dinner, and takes advantage of my dependent situation to insult my wife. The loveliest of women, the sweetest of women, the innocentest of women. Oh, my wife! my wife!” He suddenly threw his handkerchief to the other end of the room, and burst out laughing. “Ho! ho! Mountjoy, what an infernal fool you must be to take me seriously. I can act, too. Do you think I care about my wife? She was a fine woman once: she’s a bundle of old rags now. But she has her merits. Hush! I want to know something. Have you got a lord among your circle of acquaintance?”
Experience made Mountjoy more careful; perhaps a little too careful. He only said “Yes.”
The doctor’s dignity asserted itself. “That’s a short answer, sir, to a man in my position. If you want me to believe you, mention your friend’s name.”
Here was a chance at last! “His name;” Mountjoy began, “is Lord Harry27 —”
Mr. Vimpany lost his dignity in an instant. He struck his heavy fist on the table, with a blow that made the tumblers jump.
“Coincidence!” he cried. “How wonderful — no; that’s not the word — providential is the word — how providential are coincidences! I mean, of course, to a rightly constituted mind. Let nobody contradict me! When I say a rightly constituted mind I speak seriously; and a young man like you will be all the better for it. Mountjoy! dear Mountjoy! jolly Mountjoy! my wife’s lord is your lord — Lord Harry. No; none of your nonsense — I won’t have any more wine. Yes, I will; it might hurt your feelings if I didn’t drink with you. Pass the bottle. Ha! That’s a nice ring you’ve got on your finger. Perhaps you think it valuable? It’s nothing, sir; it’s dross28, it’s dirt, compared to my wife’s diamond pin! There’s a jewel, if you like! It will be worth a fortune to us when we sell it. A gift, dear sir! I’m afraid I’ve been too familiar with you. Speaking as a born gentleman, I beg to present my respects, and I call you ‘dear sir.’ Did I tell you the diamond pin was a gift? It’s nothing of the sort; we are under no obligation; my wife, my admirable wife, has earned that diamond pin. By registered post; and what I call a manly29 letter from Lord Harry. He is deeply obliged (I give you the sense of it) by what my wife has done for him; ready money is scarce with my lord; he sends a family jewel, with his love. Oh, I’m not jealous. He’s welcome to love Mrs. Vimpany, in her old age, if he likes. Did you say that, sir? Did you say that Lord Harry, or any man, was welcome to love Mrs. Vimpany? I have a great mind to throw this bottle at your head. No, I won’t; it’s wasting good wine! How kind of you to give me good wine. Who are you? I don’t like dining with a stranger. Do you know any friend of mine? Do you know a man named Mountjoy? Do you know two men named Mountjoy? No: you don’t. One of them is dead: killed by those murdering scoundrels what do you call them? Eh, what?” The doctor’s voice began to falter30, his head dropped; he slumbered31 suddenly and woke suddenly, and began talking again suddenly. “Would you like to be made acquainted with Lord Harry? I’ll give you a sketch32 of his character before I introduce him. Between ourselves, he’s a desperate wretch33. Do you know why he employed my wife, my admirable wife? You will agree with me; he ought to have looked after his young woman himself. We’ve got his young woman safe in our house. A nice girl. Not my style; my medical knowledge certifies34 she’s cold-blooded. Lord Harry has only to come over here and find her. Why the devil doesn’t he come? What is it keeps him in Ireland? Do you know? I seem to have forgotten. My own belief is I’ve got softening35 of the brain. What’s good for softening of the brain? There isn’t a doctor living who won’t tell you the right remedy — wine. Pass the wine. If this claret is worth a farthing, it’s worth a guinea a bottle. I ask you in confidence; did you ever hear of such a fool as my wife’s lord? His name escapes me. No matter; he stops in Ireland — hunting. Hunting what? The fox? Nothing so noble; hunting assassins. He’s got some grudge36 against one of them. Means to kill one of them. A word in your ear; they’ll kill him. Do you ever bet? Five to one, he’s a dead man before the end of the week. When is the end of the week? Tuesday, Wednesday — no, Saturday — that’s the beginning of the week — no, it isn’t — the beginning of the week isn’t the Sabbath — Sunday, of course — we are not Christians37, we are Jews — I mean we are Jews, we are not Christians — I mean —”
The claret got the better of his tongue, at last. He mumbled38 and muttered; he sank back in his chair; he chuckled39; he hiccupped; he fell asleep.
All and more than all that Mountjoy feared, he had now discovered. In a state of sobriety, the doctor was probably one of those men who are always ready to lie. In a state of intoxication40 the utterances41 of his drunken delirium42 might unconsciously betray the truth. The reason which he had given for Lord Harry’s continued absence in Ireland, could not be wisely rejected as unworthy of belief. It was in the reckless nature of the wild lord to put his own life in peril43, in the hope of revenging Arthur Mountjoy on the wretch who had killed him. Taking this bad news for granted, was there any need to distress Iris44 by communicating the motive45 which detained Lord Harry in his own country? Surely not!
And, again, was there any immediate46 advantage to be gained by revealing the true character of Mrs. Vimpany, as a spy, and, worse still, a spy who was paid? In her present state of feeling, Iris would, in all probability, refuse to believe it.
Arriving at these conclusions, Hugh looked at the doctor snoring and choking in an easy-chair. He had not wasted the time and patience devoted47 to the stratagem48 which had now successfully reached its end. After what he had just heard — thanks to the claret — he could not hesitate to accomplish the speedy removal of Iris from Mr. Vimpany’s house; using her father’s telegram as the only means of persuasion on which it was possible to rely. Mountjoy left the inn without ceremony, and hurried away to Iris in the hope of inducing her to return to London with him that night.
收听单词发音 |
1
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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embittered
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| v.使怨恨，激怒( embitter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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paupers
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| n.穷人( pauper的名词复数 )；贫民；贫穷 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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tipple
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| n.常喝的酒；v.不断喝，饮烈酒 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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smacked
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| 拍，打，掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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vindictively
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| adv.恶毒地；报复地 | |
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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dross
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| n.渣滓；无用之物 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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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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slumbered
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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certifies
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| （尤指书面）证明( certify的第三人称单数 )； 发证书给…； 证明（某人）患有精神病； 颁发（或授予）专业合格证书 | |
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softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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grudge
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| n.不满，怨恨，妒嫉；vt.勉强给，不情愿做 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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41
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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42
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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45
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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48
stratagem
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| n.诡计，计谋 | |
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