But the song of a nightingale in a grove9 of elms near the road made full amends10 for my ill luck! It is beautiful to hear his sobbing11, lulling12 notes when one is alone on a dark night, and Shelley was not far wrong in styling it voluptuous13.
Tell from yon elmy grove his tale
As faultless and as musical
As angels' strains above.
So sweet, they cast on all things round
A spell of melody profound:
They charm'd the river in his flowing,
They stay'd the night-wind in its blowing."
I lit a pipe and made myself comfortable on the green bank of the roadside. It was simply a matter of waiting for a carter to give me a lift. Soon I heard footsteps approaching me. "Good-evening," said a friendly, quavering voice, and a little, round-faced gentleman in a grey overcoat and straw hat emerged from the shadows. I questioned him as to the distance of the nearest inn or cottage where I could get a shelter for the night, and explained how my machine had failed me.
"The nearest inn is two miles away. I'm afraid they do not accommodate travellers," he replied.
"Is this your home?" I asked.
"Oh yes! Woolpit House is just beyond those elms. I live there. I am not a native of these parts. I have only lived there for the last six months. I am sorry I came here, for the place does not suit me. Do you care to leave your motor cycle? You are most welcome to a bed in my house," he added with cheerful simplicity17.
"I should be greatly indebted to you. But shan't I be a bother to your family at this time of the night?"
"I have none."
I wheeled my machine through a gate and left it the other side of the hedge, where I hoped it would be safe till morning. We came to the house across a footpath—a small stone-gabled sixteenth-century building. A whisp of mist from a bubbling stream circled the place and gave it an air of isolation18. We entered a lit room, which was of solemn aspect, and my friend gave me a deep-seated chair.
"Are you serious in saying that you do not like Dorset?" I questioned.
The little man smiled quietly, sadly.
"It is not Dorset exactly. But since I came to live here I have become a bundle of nerves. It is nothing—I think it's nothing."
"What do you mean?"
"I only think—I only wonder——"
"Yes?"
"This is such an old house. All sorts of things must have happened here. And from the first moment I came into the place I had a sudden sensation of there being something unseen and unheard near me. There is an essence in this house—an influence which stifles19 all laughter and joy. I wonder if you will feel it as I do!"
"Bit creepy," I said, and at the same time I came to the conclusion that the old fellow was a little eccentric, and this idea of the house being on the left side of the sun was merely a foolish weakness.
He pondered a moment, then suddenly he wagged his crooked22 fore-finger at me and said: "It is something more than an essence—it is stronger. The other evening when it was getting dusk I got up from my chair to light the candles, and I saw, as I thought, someone about six yards from that window—outside on the flagstones. It was more than a shadowy shape. So without waiting I ran out into the hall and opened the front door, feeling sure I should see a tramp or someone there. But the drive was quite empty—I only looked out into the dusk. But as I looked out something that I could not see slipped through and passed into the house. The same kind of thing has happened a dozen times."
The little old man passed his hand over his brow.
"Here," I said rather brusquely, "you're not well; you're just a bundle of nerves. Look here, sir, you want a holiday."
"Yes," he said, wiping his brow. "I try to tell myself that it is all rot ... all my fancy. But what would you do?"
"See a doctor," I replied.
"Doctors?... Bah! I'll tell you," he whispered. "I want a ghost-doctor to rid me of this invisible, pushing thing. It gets stronger every time! At first it just slipped through; just a bit more than a gust23 of wind. But now it's getting compact. To-night it drove me out of the house: that was how I came to be wandering out on the highroad like a lost soul."
"You can say what you will, but it is there, and it is growing tangible25. Last night I could distinguish his features as he came up close to the window. He smiled at me, but the smile was one of inscrutable evil. He resents me being in this house. I shall have to abandon it."
"This little man is either off his head, or worse," I said to myself.
In spite of the warmth of the room, I felt myself shiver.
At that moment I heard the sound of a stealthy footstep outside the door.
The little old man jumped up.
"I say," he said in an odd voice, "did you hear?"
I pretended I had not heard.
"Ah, you didn't ... and, of course, you didn't feel anything. It must have been my imagination."
A wave of shame ran over me. I knew that I had not the courage to listen to the old fellow's story any longer. I finished my whisky-and-soda and stood up.
"It is very kind of you, sir, to offer me a lodging26 for the night. I am feeling rather weary and would like to go to bed now, if it is convenient to you."
"Come then, sir," he said, with his old-fashioned politeness, and he walked towards the door.
Then I saw the thing. There wasn't a shadow of doubt about it. I saw the little old man open the door. The next moment he started back. Then he thrust forward with his body, and I could see him bearing against something. He swayed, physically27, as a man sways when he is wrestling. A second after he was free.
"Well, you've seen it—what do you think of it?" he said presently, as I followed him into the hall. His face had turned cloudy whitish grey.
I laughed, but the full horror of it had soaked into me.
I followed my host up a series of stairs. He carried a candlestick, with his arm extended, so as to give me a guiding light. The old house was dim and chilly28 in its barrenness. He stopped at a door in a long, narrow corridor and set the candlestick down.
"This is your room."
"Good-night, sir. Can you see your way down?" I asked.
"I have a candle in my pocket."
He lit it at mine. Another quiet, friendly smile, and I watched him out of sight along the corridor.
I stood perfectly30 still for a moment just inside. Then a curious feeling of something dreadful being close at hand was present in my mind. Of course it was all humbug31, and my nerves were deceiving me. But I could not shake myself free from the notion that I was not alone.
There is an essence in all these old dwellings32 that comes out to meet one on a first visit. I recognise the truth of that—for how often have I noticed how, under one roof, one breathes a friendly air, and under another queerness runs across the spine33 like the feet of hurrying mice. In this house there was something sinister34 and unwholesome. I cursed my luck for driving me into such a place. A night spent under a hedge would have been more desirable. However, I turned into bed and passed rather a broken night, with stretches of dream-haunted sleep interspersed35 with startled awakenings. The old house seemed to be full of muffled36 movements, and once (timid fool that I was) I could have sworn that the handle of my door turned. It was with a considerable qualm, I must confess, I lit my candle and opened the door. But the gallery was quite empty. I went back to bed and slept again, and when next I woke the sun was streaming into my room, and the sense of trouble that had been with me ever since entering the house last evening had gone.
When I arrived at the breakfast-table the little old man was seated behind the coffee-pot, and his face was quite glowing and wreathed in smiles. Morning had brought a flood of hard common sense to him, as clear as the crisp sunshine that filled the room. He had already begun and was consuming a plateful of eggs and bacon with the most prosaic37 and healthy appetite.
"Slept well?" he asked.
"Moderately," I said, feeling ashamed of my timidity in the morning light.
"I am afraid I talked rather wildly last night," remarked the little man, in a voice pregnant with reason.
"Yes—an amazing quantity of nonsense," I consented. "Where did you learn hypnotism?"
My host's brow clouded slightly.
"You see," I continued, "you must have thrown a spell over me, for I really believed in your ghost story, and now I have come to the conclusion that you were joking."
"Never mind. It doesn't matter."
But the little man didn't look up from his plate. He only shook his head.
Well (to get on), we finished breakfast. After smoking a pipe on the verandah with my host (who might have been a wizard for aught I knew, at least this was my fantastic thought) I went out and looked at my machine, and was fortunate enough after an hour's tinkering to get her going again. The little man insisted that I should take a small glass of some liqueur brandy of which he was very proud. So I took some of the wonderful stuff—strong, sufficient, soul-filling, part of the good rich earth—and went out into the sunlight, and taking a foot-bridge over running water put myself out of the little wizard's power.
About six months later I was hunting in an old[Pg 54] bookseller's shop in Salisbury when by something more than a mere20 coincidence I came across a small booklet called Twenty-five Years of Village Life, dealing38 with the district around Shaftesbury, and I read:
"It is somewhat remarkable39 that, during the last ten years, two vicars of the parish have died under somewhat mysterious circumstances at Woolpit House. It is not necessary to go into details here, but many wild stories about this picturesque40 old house are told around the countryside. The country people have an odd way of accounting41 for the ill fortune that has always attended Woolpit House. They say that it was built by the order of a dissolute old nobleman who had sold his soul to the devil, and in order to pass bad luck to all his successors who might occupy the mansion42 he caused grave-stones from —— churchyard to be rooted up and built into the walls."
The Vale of Blackmoor or Blackmore, watered by the upper part of the Stour, was formerly43 known as the White Hart Forest, but is now a strip of pasturage celebrated44 among farmers as one of the richest of grazing lands. Its marshy45 surface is speckled by herds46 of lazy cattle, and by busier droves of pigs, of which this vale supplies to London a larger number than either of the counties of Somerset and Devon. Blackmoor is also known for the vigorous growth of its oaks, which thrive on the tenacious47 soil. Loudon says it was originally called White Hart Forest from Henry III. having here hunted a beautiful white hart and spared its life; and Fuller gives the sequel to the tale. He says that Thomas de la Lynd, a gentleman of fair estate, killed the white hart which Henry by express will had reserved for his own chase, and that in consequence the county—as accessory for not opposing him—was mulched for ever in a fine called "White-hart Silver." "Myself," continues Fuller sorrowfully, "hath paid a share for the sauce who never tasted the meat." Loudon also informs us that the vale contained Losel's Wood, in which stood the Raven's Oak mentioned by White in his Natural History of Selborne.
The Vale of Blackmore stretches westward48 from the Melburys north of Cattistock (Melbury Bub, Osmund and Sampford) to Melbury Abbas south of Shaftesbury.
Down beyond Pulham, seven miles south-west of Sturminster Newton, on a flat and dismal49 road, stands at the King's Stag Bridge across the River Lidden an inn called "King's Stag," with a signboard representing a stag with a ring round its neck, and the following lines below:—
I was then but a little deer;
When Julius Cæsar reigned king,
Upon my neck he placed this ring,
That whoso me might overtake
Should spare my life for Cæsar's sake."
The belief in the longevity51 of the stag prevails in most countries. Linnæus (Regnum Animale) says of the Cervus Elaphus: "Ætas Bovis tantum; fabula est longævitatis cervi."
From a formula, as old as the hills, relating to the length of life of animals and trees we learn that—
"Three old dogs make one horse; three old horses make one old man; three old men, one old red deer; three old red deer, one old oak; three old oaks, one brent-fir [fir or pine dug out of bogs]."
If a dog be supposed to be old at eight years, this will give: horse, 24; man, 72; deer, 216; oak, 648; bog52 fir, or brent fir, 1944 years.
The proverbs which follow are not folk-sayings, but they are given a place here as being quaint53 and curious, and not devoid54 of a certain interest, as they were collected by the author while tramping in the Vale of Blackmore during the summer of 1921:—
"When the gorse is out of blossom, kissing is out of fashion" (i.e. kissing is never out of fashion).
"Trouble ran off him like water off a duck's back."
"If you sing before breakfast, you'll cry before night."
"Turn your money when you hear the cuckoo, and you'll have money in your purse till the cuckoo comes again."
"Plenty of lady-birds, plenty of hops55." (The coccinella feeds upon the aphis that proves so destructive to the hop-plant.)
"March, search; April, try;
May will prove if you live or die."
"When your salt is damp, you will soon have rain."
"It will be a wet month when there are two full moons in it."
Certainly the maidens56 of Blackmore have a benediction57 upon them, granted them for their homeliness58 and kindness. Their eyes are quiet and yet fearless, and all the maids have something wifely about them. William Barnes, the poet of the Dorset valley, praising the Blackmoor maidens, says:
"Why, if a man would wive
An' thrive 'ithout a dow'r,
Then let en look en out a wife
In Blackmore by the Stour."
William Barnes was not a wild wooer, and he found joy and adventure in a smile and a blush from a Blackmore milkmaid after having carried her pail, and he was satisfied to know that she would have bowed when she took it back had it not been too heavy. Perhaps—O dizzy fancy!—sweet Nan of the Vale would not have refused a little kiss! At all events Barnes knew womanhood in its perfection when he met with it—the maid who was "good and true and fair" was his preference.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
hitch
|
|
| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
scowled
|
|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
tempted
|
|
| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
derisive
|
|
| adj.嘲弄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
deceptive
|
|
| adj.骗人的，造成假象的，靠不住的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
rattled
|
|
| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
groaned
|
|
| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
demon
|
|
| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
grove
|
|
| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
amends
|
|
| n. 赔偿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
sobbing
|
|
| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
lulling
|
|
| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
voluptuous
|
|
| adj.肉欲的，骄奢淫逸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
raptured
|
|
| 欢天喜地的，狂喜的，销魂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
15
jealousy
|
|
| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
thronging
|
|
| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
simplicity
|
|
| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
isolation
|
|
| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
stifles
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的第三人称单数 )； 镇压，遏制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
mere
|
|
| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
musing
|
|
| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
gust
|
|
| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
outrages
|
|
| 引起…的义愤，激怒( outrage的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
tangible
|
|
| adj.有形的，可触摸的，确凿的，实际的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
lodging
|
|
| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
physically
|
|
| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
chilly
|
|
| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
humbug
|
|
| n.花招，谎话，欺骗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
dwellings
|
|
| n.住处，处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
spine
|
|
| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
sinister
|
|
| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
interspersed
|
|
| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
prosaic
|
|
| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
dealing
|
|
| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
remarkable
|
|
| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
picturesque
|
|
| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
accounting
|
|
| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
mansion
|
|
| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
formerly
|
|
| adv.从前，以前 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
marshy
|
|
| adj.沼泽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
herds
|
|
| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
tenacious
|
|
| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
westward
|
|
| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
reigned
|
|
| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
longevity
|
|
| n.长命；长寿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
bog
|
|
| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
quaint
|
|
| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
devoid
|
|
| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
hops
|
|
| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
maidens
|
|
| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
benediction
|
|
| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
homeliness
|
|
| n.简朴，朴实；相貌平平 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |