The sail was loosed, the boat touched the stone step, and Feltram sprang out and made her fast to the old iron ring. The Baronet followed. So! he had ventured upon that water without being drowned. He looked round him as if in a dream. He had not been there since his childhood. There were no regrets, no sentiment, no remorse1; only an odd return of the associations and fresh feelings of boyhood, and a long reach of time suddenly annihilated2.
The little hollow in which he stood; the three hawthorn3 trees at his right; every crease4 and undulation of the sward, every angle and crack in the lichen-covered rock at his feet, recurred5 with a sharp and instantaneous recognition to his memory.
“Many a time your brother and I fished for hours together from that bank there, just where the bramble grows. That bramble has not grown an inch ever since, not a leaf altered; we used to pick blackberries off it, with our rods stuck in the bank — it was later in the year than now — till we stript it quite bare after a day or two. The steward6 used to come over — they were marking timber for cutting and we used to stay here while they rambled7 through the wood, with an axe8 marking the trees that were to come down. I wonder whether the big old boat is still anywhere. I suppose she was broken up, or left to rot; I have not seen her since we came home. It was in the wood that lies at the right — the other wood is called the forest; they say in old times it was eight miles long, northward9 up the shore of the lake, and full of deer; with a forester, and a reeve, and a verderer, and all that. Your brother was older than you; he went to India, or the Colonies; is he living still?”
“I care not.”
“That’s good-natured, at all events; but do you know?”
“Not I; and what matter? If he’s living, I warrant he has his share of the curse, the sweat of his brow and his bitter crust; and if he is dead, he’s dust or worse, he’s rotten, and smells accordingly.”
Sir Bale looked at him; for this was the brother over whom, only a year or two ago, Philip used to cry tears of pathetic longing10. Feltram looked darkly in his face, and sneered11 with a cold laugh.
“I suppose you mean to jest?” said Sir Bale.
“Not I; it is the truth. It is what you’d say, if you were honest. If he’s alive, let him keep where he is; and if he’s dead, I’ll have none of him, body or soul. Do you hear that sound?”
“Like the wind moaning in the forest?”
“Yes.”
“But I feel no wind. There’s hardly a leaf stirring.”
“I think so,” said Feltram. “Come along.”
And he began striding up the gentle slope of the glen, with many a rock peeping through its sward, and tufted ferns and furze, giving a wild and neglected character to the scene; the background of which, where the glen loses itself in a distant turn, is formed by its craggy and wooded side.
Up they marched, side by side, in silence, towards that irregular clump12 of trees, to which Feltram had pointed13 from the Mardykes side.
As they approached, it showed more scattered14, and two or three of the trees were of grander dimensions than in the distance they had appeared; and as they walked, the broad valley of Cloostedd Forest opened grandly on their left, studding the sides of the valley with solitary15 trees or groups, which thickened as it descended16 to the broad level, in parts nearly three miles wide, on which stands the noble forest of Cloostedd, now majestically17 reposing18 in the stirless air, gilded19 and flushed with the melancholy20 tints21 of autumn.
I am now going to relate wonderful things; but they rest on the report, strangely consistent, it is true, of Sir Bale Mardykes. That all his senses, however, were sick and feverish22, and his brain not quite to be relied on at that moment, is a fact of which sceptics have a right to make all they please and can.
Startled at their approach, a bird like a huge mackaw bounced from the boughs23 of the trees, and sped away, every now and then upon the ground, toward the shelter of the forest, fluttering and hopping25 close by the side of the little brook26 which, emerging from the forest, winds into the glen, and beside the course of which Sir Bale and Philip Feltram had ascended27 from the margin28 of the lake.
It fluttered on, as if one of its wings were hurt, and kept hopping and bobbing and flying along the grass at its swiftest, screaming all the time discordantly29.
“That must be old Mrs. Amerald’s bird, that got away a week ago,” said Sir Bale, stopping and looking after it. “Was not it a mackaw?”
“No,” said Feltram; “that was a gray parrot; but there are stranger birds in Cloostedd Forest, for my ancestors collected all that would live in our climate, and were at pains to find them the food and shelter they were accustomed to until they grew hardy30 — that is how it happens.”
“By Jove, that’s a secret worth knowing,” said Sir Bale. “That would make quite a feature. What a fat brute31 that bird was! and green and dusky-crimson and yellow; but its head is white — age, I suspect; and what a broken beak32 — hideous33 bird! splendid plumage; something between a mackaw and a vulture.”
Sir Bale spoke34 jocularly, but with the interest of a bird-fancier; a taste which, when young, he had indulged; and for the moment forgot his cares and the object of his unwonted excursion.
A moment after, a lank35 slim bird, perfectly36 white, started from the same boughs, and winged its way to the forest.
“A kite, I think; but its body is a little too long, isn’t it?” said Sir Bale again, stopping and looking after its flight also.
“A foreign kite, I daresay?” said Feltram.
All this time there was hopping near them a jay, with the tameness of a bird accustomed to these solitudes38. It peered over its slender wing curiously39 at the visitors; pecking here and nodding there; and thus hopping, it made a circle round them more than once. Then it fluttered up, and perched on a bough24 of the old oak, from the deep labyrinth40 of whose branches the other birds had emerged; and from thence it flew down and lighted on the broad druidic stone, that stood like a cyclopean table on its sunken stone props41, before the snakelike roots of the oak.
Across this it hopped42 conceitedly43, as over a stage on which it figured becomingly; and after a momentary44 hesitation45, with a little spring, it rose and winged its way in the same direction which the other birds had taken, and was quickly lost in thick forest to the left.
“Here,” said Feltram, “this is the tree.”
“I remember it well! A gigantic trunk; and, yes, those marks; but I never before read them as letters. Yes, H.F., so they are — very odd I should not have remarked them. They are so large, and so strangely drawn-out in some places, and filled-in in others, and distorted, and the moss46 has grown about them; I don’t wonder I took them for natural cracks and chasms47 in the bark,” said Sir Bale.
“Very like,” said Feltram.
Sir Bale had remarked, ever since they had begun their walk from the shore, that Feltram seemed to undergo a gloomy change. Sharper, grimmer, wilder grew his features, and shadow after shadow darkened his face wickedly.
The solitude37 and grandeur48 of the forest, and the repulsive49 gloom of his companion’s countenance50 and demeanour, communicated a tone of anxiety to Sir Bale; and they stood still, side by side, in total silence for a time, looking toward the forest glades51; between themselves and which, on the level sward of the valley, stood many a noble tree and fantastic group of forked birch and thorn, in the irregular formations into which Nature had thrown them.
“Now you stand between the letters. Cast your eyes on the stone,” said Feltram suddenly, and his low stern tones almost startled the Baronet.
Looking round, he perceived that he had so placed himself that his point of vision was exactly from between the two great letters, now half-obliterated, which he had been scrutinizing52 just as he turned about to look toward the forest of Cloostedd.
“Yes, so I am,” said Sir Bale.
There was within him an excitement and misgiving53, akin54 to the sensation of a man going into battle, and which corresponded with the pale and sombre frown which Feltram wore, and the manifest change which had come over him.
“Look on the stone steadily55 for a time, and tell me if you see a black mark, about the size of your hand, anywhere upon its surface,” said Feltram.
Sir Bale affected56 no airs of scepticism now; his imagination was stirred, and a sense of some unknown reality at the bottom of that which he had affected to treat before as illusion, inspired a strange interest in the experiment.
“Do you see it?” asked Feltram.
Sir Bale was watching patiently, but he had observed nothing of the kind.
Sharper, darker, more eager grew the face of Philip Feltram, as his eyes traversed the surface of that huge horizontal block.
“Now?” asked Feltram again.
No, he had seen nothing.
Feltram was growing manifestly uneasy, angry almost; he walked away a little, and back again, and then two or three times round the tree, with his hands shut, and treading the ground like a man trying to warm his feet, and so impatiently he returned, and looked again on the stone.
Sir Bale was still looking, and very soon said, drawing his brows together and looking hard,
“Ha!— yes — hush57. There it is, by Jove!— wait — yes — there; it is growing quite plain.”
It seemed not as if a shadow fell upon the stone, but rather as if the stone became semi-transparent, and just under its surface was something dark — a hand, he thought it — and darker and darker it grew, as if coming up toward the surface, and after some little wavering, it fixed58 itself movelessly, pointing, as he thought, toward the forest.
“It looks like a hand,” said he. “By Jove, it is a hand — pointing towards the forest with a finger.”
“Don’t mind the finger; look only on that black blurred59 mark, and from the point where you stand, taking that point for your direction, look to the forest. Take some tree or other landmark60 for an object, enter the forest there, and pursue the same line, as well as you can, until you find little flowers with leaves like wood-sorrel, and with tall stems and a red blossom, not larger than a drop, such as you have not seen before, growing among the trees, and follow wherever they seem to grow thickest, and there you will find him.”
All the time that Feltram was making this little address, Sir Bale was endeavouring to fix his route by such indications as Feltram described; and when he had succeeded in quite establishing the form of a peculiar61 tree — a melancholy ash, one huge limb of which had been blasted by lightning, and its partly stricken arm stood high and barkless, stretching its white fingers, as it were, in invitation into the forest, and signing the way for him ——
“I have it now,” said he. “Come Feltram, you’ll come a bit of the way with me.”
Feltram made no answer, but slowly shook his head, and turned and walked away, leaving Sir Bale to undertake his adventure alone.
The strange sound they had heard from the midst of the forest, like the rumble62 of a storm or the far-off trembling of a furnace, had quite ceased. Not a bird was hopping on the grass, or visible on bough or in the sky. Not a living creature was in sight — never was stillness more complete, or silence more oppressive.
It would have been ridiculous to give way to the old reluctance63 which struggled within him. Feltram had strode down the slope, and was concealed64 by a screen of bushes from his view. So alone, and full of an interest quite new to him, he set out in quest of his adventures.
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1
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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hawthorn
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| 山楂 | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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rambled
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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majestically
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| 雄伟地； 庄重地； 威严地； 崇高地 | |
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reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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19
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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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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21
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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22
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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23
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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24
bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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25
hopping
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| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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27
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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29
discordantly
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| adv.不一致地，不和谐地 | |
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30
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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32
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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34
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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35
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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37
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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38
solitudes
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| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
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39
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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41
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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42
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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43
conceitedly
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| 自满地 | |
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44
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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45
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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46
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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47
chasms
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| 裂缝( chasm的名词复数 )； 裂口； 分歧； 差别 | |
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48
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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49
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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50
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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51
glades
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| n.林中空地( glade的名词复数 ) | |
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52
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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53
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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54
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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55
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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56
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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57
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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58
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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59
blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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60
landmark
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| n.陆标，划时代的事，地界标 | |
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61
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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62
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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63
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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64
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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