Bridgeburg and a slow train that set down a tired, distrait1 woman at its depot2 after midnight on the eighth ofDecember. Bitter cold and bright stars. A lone3 depot assistant who on inquiry4 directed her to the BridgeburgCentral House--straight up the street which now faced her, then two blocks to her left after she reached thesecond street. The sleepy night clerk of the Central House providing her instantly with a room and, once he knewwho she was, directing her to the county jail. But she deciding after due rumination5 that now was not the hour.
He might be sleeping. She would go to bed and rise early in the morning. She had sent him various telegrams. Heknew that she was coming.
But as early as seven in the morning, rising, and by eight appearing at the jail, letters, telegrams and credentialsin hand. And the jail officials, after examining the letters she carried and being convinced of her identity,notifying Clyde of her presence. And he, depressed7 and forlorn, on hearing this news, welcoming the thought ofher as much as at first he had dreaded8 her coming. For now things were different. All the long grim story hadbeen told. And because of the plausible9 explanation which Jephson had provided him, he could face her perhapsand say without a quaver that it was true--that he had not plotted to kill Roberta--that he had not willingly left herto die in the water. And then hurrying down to the visitor's room, where, by the courtesy of Slack, he waspermitted to talk with his mother alone.
On seeing her rise at his entrance, and hurrying to her, his troubled intricate soul not a little dubious10, yetconfident also that it was to find sanctuary11, sympathy, help, perhaps--and that without criticism--in her heart.
And exclaiming with difficulty, as a lump thickened in his throat: "Gee12, Ma! I'm glad you've come." But she toomoved for words--her condemned13 boy in her arms--merely drawing his head to her shoulder and then lookingup. The Lord God had vouchsafed14 her this much. Why not more? The ultimate freedom of her son--or if not that,at least a new trial--a fair consideration of the evidence in his favor which had not been had yet, of course. Andso they stood for several moments.
Then news of home, the reason for her presence, her duty as a correspondent to interview him--later to appearwith him in court at the hour of his sentence--a situation over which Clyde winced15. Yet now, as he heard fromher, his future was likely to depend on her efforts alone. The Lycurgus Griffiths, for reasons of their own, haddecided not to aid him further. But she--if she were but able to face the world with a sound claim--might still aidhim. Had not the Lord aided her thus far? Yet to face the world and the Lord with her just one plea she mustknow from him--now--the truth as to whether he had intentionally16 or unintentionally struck Roberta--whetherintentionally or unintentionally he had left her to die. She had read the evidence and his letters and had noted17 allthe defects in his testimony18. But were those things as contended by Mason true or false?
Clyde, now as always overawed and thrown back on himself by that uncompromising and shameless honestywhich he had never been able quite to comprehend in her, announced, with all the firmness that he couldmuster--yet with a secret quavering chill in his heart--that he had sworn to the truth. He had not done thosethings with which he had been charged. He had not. But, alas19, as she now said to herself, on observing him, whatwas that about his eyes--a faint flicker20 perhaps. He was not so sure--as self-convinced and definite as she hadhoped--as she had prayed he would be. No, no, there was something in his manner, his words, as he spoke--afaint recessive21 intonation22, a sense of something troubled, dubious, perhaps, which quite froze her now.
He was not positive enough. And so he might have plotted, in part at least, as she had feared at first, when shehad first heard of this--might have even struck her on that lone, secret lake!--who could tell? (the searing,destroying power of such a thought as that). And that in the face of all his testimony to the contrary.
But "Jehovah, jirah, Thou wilt23 not require of a mother, in her own and her son's darkest hour, that she doubthim,--make sure his death through her own lack of faith? Oh, no--Thou wilt not. O Lamb of God, Thou wilt not!"She turned; she bruised24 under her heel the scaly25 head of this dark suspicion--as terrifying to her as his guilt26 wasto him. "O Absalom, my Absalom!" Come, come, we will not entertain such a thought. God himself would noturge it upon a mother. Was he not here--her son--before her, declaring firmly that he had not done this thing. Shemust believe--she would believe him utterly27. She would--and did--whatever fiend of doubt might still remainlocked in the lowest dungeon28 of her miserable29 heart. Come, come, the public should know how she felt. She andher son would find a way. He must believe and pray. Did he have a Bible? Did he read it? And Clyde havingbeen long since provided with a Bible by a prison worker, assured her that he had and did read it.
But now she must go first to see his lawyers, next to file her dispatch, after which she would return. But once outon the street being immediately set upon by several reporters and eagerly questioned as to the meaning of herpresence here. Did she believe in her son's innocence30? Did she or did she not think that he had had a fair trial?
Why had she not come on before? And Mrs. Griffiths, in her direct and earnest and motherly way, taking theminto her confidence and telling how as well as why she came to be here, also why she had not come before.
But now that she was here she hoped to stay. The Lord would provide the means for the salvation31 of her son, ofwhose innocence she was convinced. Would they not ask God to help her? Would they not pray for her success?
And with the several reporters not a little moved and impressed, assuring her that they would, of course, andthereafter describing her to the world at large as she was--middle-aged, homely32, religious, determined33, sincereand earnest and with a moving faith in the innocence of her boy.
But the Griffiths of Lycurgus, on hearing this, resenting her coming as one more blow. And Clyde, in his cell, onreading of it later, somewhat shocked by the gross publicity34 now attending everything in connection with him,yet, because of his mother's presence, resigned and after a time almost happy. Whatever her faults or defects,after all she was his mother, wasn't she? And she had come to his aid. Let the public think what it would. Was henot in the shadow of death and she at least had not deserted35 him. And with this, her suddenly manifested skill inconnecting herself in this way with a Denver paper, to praise her for.
She had never done anything like this before. And who knew but that possibly, and even in the face of her direpoverty now, she might still be able to solve this matter of a new trial for him and to save his life? Who knew?
And yet how much and how indifferently he had sinned against her! Oh, how much. And still here she was--his mother still anxious and tortured and yet loving and seeking to save his life by writing up his own conviction fora western paper. No longer did the shabby coat and the outlandish hat and the broad, immobile face andsomewhat stolid36 and crude gestures seem the racking and disturbing things they had so little time since. She washis mother and she loved him, and believed in him and was struggling to save him.
On the other hand Belknap and Jephson on first encountering her were by no means so much impressed. Forsome reason they had not anticipated so crude and unlettered and yet convinced a figure. The wide, flat shoes.
The queer hat. The old brown coat. Yet somehow, after a few moments, arrested by her earnestness and faith andlove for her son and her fixed37, inquiring, and humanly clean and pure blue eyes in which dwelt immaterialconviction and sacrifice with no shadow of turning.
Did they personally think her son innocent? She must know that first. Or did they secretly believe that he wasguilty? She had been so tortured by all the contradictory38 evidence. God had laid a heavy cross upon her and hers.
Nevertheless, Blessed be His name! And both, seeing and feeling her great concern, were quick to assure her thatthey were convinced of Clyde's innocence. If he were executed for this alleged39 crime it would be a travesty40 onjustice.
Yet both, now that they saw her, troubled as to the source of any further funds, her method of getting here, whichshe now explained, indicating that she had nothing. And an appeal sure to cost not less than two thousand. AndMrs. Griffiths, after an hour in their presence, in which they made clear to her the basic cost of an appeal-coveringbriefs to be prepared, arguments, trips to be made--asserting repeatedly that she did not quite see howshe was to do. Then suddenly, and to them somewhat inconsequentially, yet movingly and dramatically,exclaiming: "The Lord will not desert me. I know it. He has declared himself unto me. It was His voice there inDenver that directed me to that paper. And now that I am here, I will trust Him and He will guide me."But Belknap and Jephson merely looking at one another in unconvinced and pagan astonishment41. Such faith! Anexhorter! An Evangelist, no less! Yet to Jephson, here was an idea! There was the religious element to bereckoned with everywhere--strong in its agreement with just such faith. Assuming the Griffiths of Lycurgus toremain obdurate42 and unmoved--why then--why then--and now that she was here--there were the churches and thereligious people generally. Might it not be possible, with such a temperament43 and such faith as this, to appeal tothe very element that had hitherto most condemned Clyde and made his conviction a certainty, for fundswherewith to carry this case to the court of appeals? This lorn mother. Her faith in her boy.
Presto!
A lecture, at so much for admission, and in which, hard-pressed as she was and could show, she would set forththe righteousness of her boy's claim--seek to obtain the sympathy of the prejudiced public and incidentally twothousand dollars or more with which this appeal could be conducted.
And now Jephson, turning to her and laying the matter before her and offering to prepare a lecture or notes--acondensation of his various arguments--in fact, an entire lecture which she could re-arrange and present as shechose--all the data which was the ultimate, basic truth in regard to her son. And she, her brown cheeks flushingand her eyes brightening, agreeing she would do it. She would try. She could do no less than try. Verily, verily,was not this the Voice and Hand of God in the darkest hour of her tribulation44?
On the following morning Clyde was arraigned45 for sentence, with Mrs. Griffiths given a seat near him andseeking, paper and pencil in hand, to make notes of, for her, an unutterable scene, while a large crowd surveyedher. His own mother! And acting46 as a reporter! Something absurd, grotesque47, insensitive, even ludicrous, aboutsuch a family and such a scene. And to think the Griffiths of Lycurgus should be so immediately related to them.
Yet Clyde sustained and heartened by her presence. For had she not returned to the jail the previous afternoonwith her plan? And as soon as this was over--whatever the sentence might be--she would begin with her work.
And so, and that almost in spite of himself, in his darkest hour, standing48 up before Justice Oberwaltzer andlistening first to a brief recital49 of his charge and trial (which was pronounced by Oberwaltzer to have been fairand impartial), then to the customary: "Have you any cause which shows why the judgment50 of death should notnow be pronounced against you according to law?"--to which and to the astonishment of his mother and theauditors (if not Jephson, who had advised and urged him so to do), Clyde now in a clear and firm voice replied:
"I am innocent of the crime as charged in the indictment51. I never killed Roberta Alden and therefore I think thissentence should not be passed."And then staring straight before him conscious only of the look of admiration52 and love turned on him by hismother. For had not her son now declared himself, here at this fatal moment, before all these people? And hisword here, if not in that jail, would be true, would it not? Then her son was not guilty. He was not. He was not.
Praised be the name of the Lord in the highest. And deciding to make a great point of this in her dispatch--so asto get it in all the papers, and in her lecture afterwards.
However, Oberwaltzer, without the faintest sign of surprise or perturbation, now continued: "Is there anythingelse you care to say?""No," replied Clyde, after a moment's hesitation53.
"Clyde Griffiths," then concluded Oberwaltzer, "the judgment of the Court is that you, Clyde Griffiths, for themurder in the first degree of one, Roberta Alden, whereof you are convicted, be, and you are hereby sentenced tothe punishment of death; and it is ordered that, within ten days after this day's session of Court, the Sheriff of thiscounty of Cataraqui deliver you, together with the warrant of this Court, to the Agent and Warden54 of the StatePrison of the State of New York at Auburn, where you shall be kept in solitary55 confinement56 until the weekbeginning Monday the 28th day of January, 19--, and, upon some day within the week so appointed, the saidAgent and Warden of the State Prison of the State of New York at Auburn is commended to do execution uponyou, Clyde Griffiths, in the mode and manner prescribed by the laws of the State of New York."And that done, a smile from Mrs. Griffiths to her boy and an answering smile from Clyde to her. For since hehad announced that he was not guilty--HERE--her spirit had risen in the face of this sentence. He was reallyinnocent,--he must be, since he had declared it here. And Clyde because of her smile saying to himself, hismother believed in him now. She had not been swayed by all the evidence against him. And this faith, mistaken or not, was now so sustaining--so needed. What he had just said was true as he now saw it. He had not struckRoberta. That WAS true. And therefore he was not guilty. Yet Kraut and Slack were once more seizing him andescorting him to the cell.
Immediately thereafter his mother seating herself at a press table proceeded to explain to contiguous pressrepresentatives now curiously57 gathering58 about her: "You mustn't think too badly of me, you gentlemen of thepapers. I don't know much about this but it is the only way I could think of to be with my boy. I couldn't havecome otherwise." And then one lanky59 correspondent stepping up to say: "Don't worry, mother. Is there any way Ican help you? Want me to straighten out what you want to say? I'll be glad to." And then sitting down beside herand proceeding60 to help her arrange her impressions in the form in which he assumed her Denver paper might likethem. And others as well offering to do anything they could--and all greatly moved.
Two days later, the proper commitment papers having been prepared and his mother notified of the change butnot permitted to accompany him, Clyde was removed to Auburn, the Western penitentiary61 of the State of NewYork, where in the "death house" or "Murderers' Row," as it was called--as gloomy and torturesome an infernoas one could imagine any human compelled to endure--a combination of some twenty-two cells on two separatelevels--he was to be restrained until ordered retried or executed.
Yet as he traveled from Bridgeburg to this place, impressive crowds at every station--young and old--men,women and children--all seeking a glimpse of the astonishingly youthly slayer62. And girls and women, under theguise of kindly63 interest, but which, at best, spelled little more than a desire to achieve a facile intimacy64 with thisdaring and romantic, if unfortunate figure, throwing him a flower here and there and calling to him gayly andloudly as the train moved out from one station or another:
"Hello, Clyde! Hope to see you soon again. Don't stay too long down there." "If you take an appeal, you're sureto be acquitted65. We hope so, anyhow."And with Clyde not a little astonished and later even heartened by this seemingly favorable discrepancy66 betweenthe attitude of the crowds in Bridgeburg and this sudden, morbid67, feverish68 and even hectic69 curiosity here, bowingand smiling and even waving with his hand. Yet thinking, none the less, "I am on the way to the death house andthey can be so friendly. It is a wonder they dare." And with Kraut and Sissel, his guards, because of thedistinction and notoriety of being both his captors and jailors, as well also because of these unusual attentionsfrom passengers on the train and individuals in these throngs70 without being themselves flattered and ennobled.
But after this one brief colorful flight in the open since his arrest, past these waiting throngs and over wintersunlit fields and hills of snow that reminded him of Lycurgus, Sondra, Roberta, and all that he had sokaleidoscopically and fatally known in the twenty months just past, the gray and restraining walls of Auburnitself--with, once he was presented to a clerk in the warden's office and his name and crime entered in thebooks--himself assigned to two assistants, who saw to it that he was given a prison bath and hair cut--all thewavy, black hair he so much admired cut away--a prison-striped uniform and hideous71 cap of the same material,prison underwear and heavy gray felt shoes to quiet the restless prison tread in which in time he might indulge,together with the number, 77221.
And so accoutered, immediately transferred to the death house proper, where in a cell on the ground floor he was now locked--a squarish light clean space, eight by ten feet in size and fitted with sanitary72 plumbing73 as well as acot bed, a table, a chair and a small rack for books. And here then, while he barely sensed that there were othercells about him--ranging up and down a wide hall--he first stood--and then seated himself--now no longerbuoyed by the more intimate and sociable74 life of the jail at Bridgeburg--or those strange throngs and scenes thathad punctuated75 his trip here.
The hectic tensity and misery76 of these hours! That sentence to die; that trip with all those people calling to him;that cutting of his hair downstairs in that prison barber shop--and by a convict; the suit and underwear that wasnow his and that he now had on. There was no mirror here--or anywhere,--but no matter--he could feel how helooked. This baggy77 coat and trousers and this striped cap. He threw it hopelessly to the floor. For but an hourbefore he had been clothed in a decent suit and shirt and tie and shoes, and his appearance had been neat andpleasing as he himself had thought as he left Bridgeburg. But now--how must he look? And to-morrow hismother would be coming--and later Jephson or Belknap, maybe. God!
But worse--there, in that cell directly opposite him, a sallow and emaciated78 and sinister-looking Chinaman in asuit exactly like his own, who had come to the bars of his door and was looking at him out of inscrutable slanteyes, but as immediately turning and scratching himself--vermin, maybe, as Clyde immediately feared. Therehad been bedbugs at Bridgeburg.
A Chinese murderer. For was not this the death house? But as good as himself here. And with a garb79 like hisown. Thank God visitors were probably not many. He had heard from his mother that scarcely any wereallowed--that only she and Belknap and Jephson and any minister he chose might come once a week. But nowthese hard, white-painted walls brightly lighted by wide unobstructed skylights by day and as he could see--byincandescent lamps in the hall without at night--yet all so different from Bridgeburg,--so much more bright orharsh illuminatively. For there, the jail being old, the walls were a gray-brown, and not very clean--the cellslarger, the furnishings more numerous--a table with a cloth on it at times, books, papers, a chess-and checkerboard--whereas here--here was nothing, these hard narrow walls--the iron bars rising to a heavy solid ceilingabove--and that very, very heavy iron door which yet--like the one at Bridgeburg, had a small hole throughwhich food would be passed, of course.
But just then a voice from somewhere:
"Hey! we got a new one wid us, fellers! Ground tier, second cell, east." And then a second voice: "You don't say.
Wot's he like?" And a third: "Wot's yer name, new man? Don't be scared. You ain't no worse off than the rest ofus." And then the first voice, answering number two: "Kinda tall and skinny. A kid. Looks a little like mamma'sboy, but not bad at dat. Hey, you! Tell us your name!"And Clyde, amazed and dumb and pondering. For how was one to take such an introduction as this? What tosay--what to do? Should he be friendly with these men? Yet, his instinct for tact80 prompting him even here toreply, most courteously81 and promptly82: "Clyde Griffiths." And one of the first voices continuing: "Oh, sure! Weknow who you are. Welcome, Griffiths. We ain't as bad as we sound. We been readin' a lot about you, up dere inBridgeburg. We thought you'd be along pretty soon now." And another voice: "You don't want to be too down. Itain't so worse here. At least de place is all right--a roof over your head, as dey say." And then a laugh fromsomewhere.
But Clyde, too horrified83 and sickened for words, was sadly gazing at the walls and door, then over at theChinaman, who, silent at his door, was once more gazing at him. Horrible! Horrible! And they talked to eachother like that, and to a stranger among them so familiarly. No thought for his wretchedness, his strangeness, histimidity--the horror he must be suffering. But why should a murderer seem timid to any one, perhaps, ormiserable? Worst of all they had been speculating HERE as to how long it would be before he would be alongwhich meant that everything concerning him was known here. Would they nag--or bully--or make trouble forone unless one did just as they wished? If Sondra, or any one of all the people he had known, should see or evendream of him as he was here now . . . God!--And his own mother was coming to-morrow.
And then an hour later, now evening, a tall, cadaverous guard in a more pleasing uniform, putting an iron traywith food on it through that hole in the door. Food! And for him here. And that sallow, rickety Chinaman overthe way taking his. Whom had he murdered? How? And then the savage84 scraping of iron trays in the variouscells! Sounds that reminded him more of hungry animals being fed than men. And some of these men wereactually talking as they ate and scraped. It sickened him.
"Gee! It's a wonder them guys in the mush gallery couldn't think of somepin else besides cold beans and friedpotatoes and coffee.""The coffee tonight . . . oh, boy! . . . Now in the jail at Buffalo85--though . . .""Oh, cut it out," came from another corner. "We've heard enough about the jail at Buffalo and your swell86 chow.
You don't show any afternoon tea appetite around here, I notice.""Just the same," continued the first voice, "as I look back on't now, it musta been pretty good. Dat's a way itseems, anyhow, now.""Oh, Rafferty, do let up," called still another.
And then, presumably "Rafferty" once more, who said: "Now, I'll just take a little siesta87 after dis--and den6 I'll callme chauffeur88 and go for a little spin. De air to-night must be fine."Then from still another hoarse89 voice: "Oh, you with your sick imagination. Say, I'd give me life for a smoker90.
And den a good game of cards.""Do they play cards here?" thought Clyde.
"I suppose since Rosenstein was defeated for mayor here he won't play.""Won't he, though?" This presumably from Rosenstein.
To Clyde's left, in the cell next to him, a voice, to a passing guard, low and yet distinctly audible: "Psst! Anyword from Albany yet?""No word, Herman.""And no letter, I suppose.""No letter."The voice was very strained, very tense, very miserable, and after this, silence.
A moment later, from another cell farther off, a voice from the lowest hell to which a soul can descend--completeand unutterable despair--"Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"And then from the tier above another voice: "Oh, Jesus! Is that farmer going to begin again? I can't stand it.
Guard! Guard! Can't you get some dope for that guy?"Once more the voice from the lowest: "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"Clyde was up, his fingers clinched91. His nerves were as taut92 as cords about to snap. A murderer! And about to die,perhaps. Or grieving over some terrible thing like his own fate. Moaning--as he in spirit at least had so oftenmoaned there in Bridgeburg. Crying like that! God! And there must be others!
And day after day and night after night more of this, no doubt, until, maybe--who could tell--unless. But, oh, no!
Oh, no! Not himself--not that--not his day. Oh, no. A whole year must elapse before that could possibly happen-orso Jephson had said. Maybe two. But, at that--! . . . in two years!!! He found himself stricken with an aguebecause of the thought that even in so brief a time as two years. . . .
That other room! It was in here somewhere too. This room was connected with it. He knew that. There was adoor. It led to that chair. THAT CHAIR.
And then the voice again, as before, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"He sank to his couch and covered his ears with his hands.
十二月八日午夜过后，一列缓缓行驶的火车，把一位疲惫不堪。精神恍惚的女人送到了布里奇伯格车站。寒气袭人，群星灿烂。站上一个孤零零的值班员在回答她的询问时，给她指出了到布里奇伯格中央旅馆去的方向……沿着她面前这条街一直走，到第二条街口往左拐，再走过两个街区就到。中央旅馆一个很想打盹儿的值夜班职员，马上给她开了一个房间;而且，一知道她的身份，就赶紧指点她到本县监狱去的路径。不过，她又转念一想，觉得现在这个时间不合适。也许他正在睡觉。于是，她先睡了，等天一亮就起身。反正她已经给他拍过好几个电报了。他知道她肯定会来的。
转天清晨七点钟，她就起身了，八点钟手里持有信件。电报和证明文件来到了监狱。监狱官员们查看过她持有的信件，验明了她的身份以后，就派人通知克莱德说他母亲来了。这时，他正心灰意懒，绝望透顶，一听到这个消息，想到要跟母亲晤面，心里就很高兴，尽管开头的时候他对她的来到怕得要死。
因为，如今情况已经大变了。所有这些冗长。骇人的事实经过，几乎已是尽人皆知了。此外还有杰夫森给他编造的那一套好象很有道理的说法，现在也许他敢于面对母亲，毫不迟疑地把真相告诉她，说:
……他既不是蓄意害死罗伯达的，也没有存心让她淹死。接着，他就赶紧朝来访者接待室走去。承蒙斯拉克的特许，他可以在那里单独跟他母亲晤谈。
一进门他就看见母亲迎面站了起来，便冲她急奔过去。他心里乱成一团，而又疑虑重重，但他又深信，他可以在她心中找到庇护。同情。也许还有帮助，而且不会遭到非难。他好象嗓子眼被哽住了似的，拚命使劲才喊了一声:
"啊，妈妈!
你来了，我可高兴极了。"不过，她也太激动了，连话儿都说不出来……她只是把她这个被定了罪的孩子紧搂在自己怀里……让他的头搁在自己肩头上。随后，她才抬头仰望苍天。主已经给了她这么多的恩惠。为什么不多给一些呢?
让她的儿子最后获释……哪怕至少也得进行复审……把所有一切有利于他的证据公正地加以检验一番(当然罗，过去法庭上一直还没有这么做)。他们母子俩就这样纹丝不动，伫立了一会儿。
随后，讲到有关家里的消息……宣判时还得跟他一起出庭……克莱德一听了这些话就打了个寒颤。反正现在他听她说，他的命运大概全得靠她孤身拚搏了。莱柯格斯的格里菲思家，为了他们自己着想，已经决定再也不帮助他了。
不过她呀……要是她能面向全世界发出正义呼吁……也许还能拯救他。主不是一直在保佑她吗?
不过，为了能向全世界以及主发出她正义的呼吁，此时此地他必须向她说明真相……马上就说明……他究竟是故意还是无意之中砸了罗伯达……他究竟是故意还是无意之中让她淹死了。那些证据，还有他寄来的信，她全看过了;连同他证词里所有纰漏，她也都觉察到了。不过，梅森所说的这些问题，究竟是真的还是假的呢?
克莱德对她这种绝不妥协。毫不留情的坦率性格，如同过去一样完全不能理解，但同时却又感到敬畏与羞愧。因此，他尽量表现得非常坚决……哪怕心里还是在暗中瑟缩……说他起誓以后所说的全都是真话。人家指控他的那些事情，他都没有干过。他可没有干过。可是，天哪，她仔细打量他时，心里却在思忖，他那眼睛里怎么会一闪一闪的……也是某种不可捉摸的阴影吧。他自己并不感到那么有信心……不象她所希望的那么自信，那么坚定……更不象她祈祷时希望他应该表现的那样。不，不，他的举止表现和言词里还有……一丁点儿支吾搪塞的腔调，一种困惑不安。也许是迟疑的色彩;一想到这些，她一下子浑身发冷了。
他表现还不够坚定。这么说来，他也许是故意的，至少是有一点儿……她头一次听到这个消息时所担心的正是这一点……他也许就在那个荒凉。冷僻的湖上砸了她!
谁能说得准呢?
(这一类的揣想，真让人五内俱裂啊。)而在他作过的所有证词里，他都说不是这么一回事。
可是，"耶和华啊，你是不允许做母亲的在她自己和她儿子最黑暗的时刻去怀疑自己的儿子，你是不允许由于母亲自己缺乏信心而肯定儿子被判死罪吧?
啊，不……你是不允许这样的。啊，耶稣基督呀，你是不允许这样的!
"她把脸扭过去，竭力消除自己鳞片似的额头上阴暗的疑虑的影子……她害怕这种疑虑，如同他害怕自己的罪行一般。"啊，押沙龙(押沙龙是《圣经。旧约》中一人物，大卫王之宠儿，后因反叛其父被杀，大卫闻讯后恸哭不已。见《圣经。旧约。撒母耳记下》。)，我的押沙龙!
得了，得了，我们可不该有这么一种念头呀。上帝也不会硬要一个做母亲的非有这念头不可呀。"他……她的儿子……不是就在这里，在她面前，坚称他没有干过这件事吗?
她应该相信他……而且她也会完全相信他。
她会相信……她也果真相信了……哪怕是在她可怜的心头深处，还躲藏着怀疑的魔鬼。得了，得了，广大公众应该知道她做母亲的对这一切是怎么想的呀。
她和她的儿子一定会寻摸到一条出路的。他应该坚信不移，虔心祈祷。他有没有《圣经》?
他念过没有?
监狱里一个职工早就把《圣经》给了克莱德。因此，他赶紧安慰她，说《圣经》他是有的，而且还念过哩。
不过现在，她必须先去找他的辩护律师谈谈，其次把她的头一篇通讯报道发出去，然后再回来。可是，她刚要往外走，好几位记者马上围住了她，急急乎问她上这里来有何打算?
她相信不相信她的儿子是无辜的?
她认为对她儿子的审判是很公正，还是不公正?
为什么她没有早点来?
格里菲思太太就以她常有的那种坦率。诚挚和母性的亲切感给他们说了心里话:
她是怎么来的，为什么要来，还有她为什么不能早点来。
不过现在她既然已经来了，希望自己不要马上就走。主一定会指点她去拯救她的儿子。她坚信他是无辜的。也许他们会祈求上帝来帮助她?
也许他们会祈求上帝让她马到成功?
有好几位记者非常激动，向她保证说他们当然会这么祈祷的。随后，他们还向千百万读者描述了她是怎么一个人:
一个中年妇女，相貌一般，虔信宗教，意志坚决，诚挚热忱，而且令人感动的是，她坚信她的儿子是无辜的。
不料，莱柯格斯的格里菲思家一听到这条消息，愤怒地认为:
她上这里来，对他们是又一次打击。后来，克莱德在牢房里看到这些报道，凡是有关他的事，现在都被大肆渲染，简直不堪入目，他颇受震惊。不过，既然他母亲来了，他心里也多少有些宽慰。过了半晌。他几乎觉得更加高兴。不管她有她的过错或是缺憾，但她毕竟是他的母亲，可不是吗?
何况她这是来拯救他的。让外界爱怎么想就怎么想得了。当死亡的阴影笼罩他头上的时候，母亲她至少并没有抛弃他。再加上她突然大显身手，让自己跟丹佛的一家报社建立这么一种关系，难道说不该大声赞美她吗。
在这以前，她从来没有做过这类事。现在即便是她已到了穷途末路，说不定还能替他解决复审的问题，救他一命哩。这事有谁说得准呢?
有谁说得准呢?
可是在过去，他却大大地得罪过她!
冷淡过她!
啊，这是多大的罪过啊!
不过，她到底还是赶到这里来了……他母亲依然是那么心焦火燎，那么饱受痛苦，还是那么满怀慈爱，为了拯救他的生命，准备给西部一家报社撰写有关他被判罪的详细报道。她那破烂的外套，奇形怪状的帽子，呆滞不动的大脸盘，以及有些呆头呆脑。粗鲁生硬的姿式，现在都没有象不久以前使克莱德恼羞成怒了。她毕竟是他的母亲;她疼爱他，信赖他，还为了营救他而拚搏着。
然而，贝尔纳普和杰夫森初次见到她的时候，印象却绝对没有这么深。不知怎的他们并没有料到会碰上这么一个粗鲁。文化不高，可又坚信不渝的人。
瞧她那双平底圆头鞋，那顶怪得出奇的帽子，还有那件破旧的棕色大衣。可是过了半晌，不知怎的让他们着了迷的，竟是她的那种恳切。虔信和慈爱，她的那一双清澈。纯洁的蓝眼睛里透出坚定。好问而富有人情味的神色，一望可知她心中充满了确信和奉献的决心，一丁点儿动摇的阴影也没有。
他们自己是不是认为她的儿子是无辜的?
这一点她首先要了解清楚。还是他们暗底里却相信他有罪?
所有那些相互矛盾的证据，已折磨得她够呛。上帝已把沉重的十字架得到她和她的亲人身上。不过还得颂扬他的名!
他们两人都了解到和感觉到她心焦如焚，就赶紧安慰她，说他们坚信克莱德是无辜的。要是他以莫须有的罪名被判处死刑，那对正义来说真是大大的歪曲了。
不过，现在他们两人跟她见面后最发愁的，却是对今后办案资金来源问题。
听了她说自己是怎样到布里奇伯格来的，显而易见，她是身无分文。而上诉的费用肯定不会少于两千美元。格里菲思太太跟他们谈了足足一个钟头;倘要上诉，他们向她详细地算了一笔帐，最起码包括给辩护律师必须准备的案情摘要抄件。
辩论提纲。必不可少的差旅费等等，而格里菲思太太只是一个劲儿重复说她可不知道该怎么办才好。稍后，她突然大声嚷嚷，在他们看来，简直可以说是前言不搭后语的，可是很动人，而又富于戏剧性，她说:
"主决不会抛弃我。这我可知道。他已经向我昭告了他的旨意。正是他的声音指点我到丹佛那家报社去的。
现在，我已经来到了这儿，我可要相信他，他一定会指引我的。"不料，贝尔纳普和杰夫森仅仅是面面相觑，露出异教徒的怀疑和惊诧神色。
如此相信那一套!
好象被鬼迷住了似的!
好一个不折不扣的福音传教士!
可是，杰夫森突然灵机一动，有好点子了!
公众里头的宗教感情……不能不认为是很有分量的因素……如此狂热的信仰，不论到哪儿总能得到响应。假定说莱柯格斯的格里菲思家还是那样冷酷无情，那样无动于衷……那末……哦，那末……哦，反正现在她人已经来了……这儿有的是教堂和教徒呀。过去就是这一拨会众指责克莱德最力，并让他势必被判为死罪。现在，为什么不能利用她的这种秉性和她的这种信念，向这一拨会众呼吁募捐，把本案提到上诉法院去呢?
这个孤苦伶仃的母亲呀!
她对她的儿子就是深信不疑!
赶快动起来吧。
来一次公开演讲，入场票价要定得高些。她已是如此窘困不堪，谁都一望可知;她不妨在会上替儿子大声疾呼，伸张正义……设法争取那些持有偏见的公众的同情，顺便还可以收入两千块美元，说不定会更多些。有了这笔钱，要上诉就好办了。
这时，杰夫森就侧过脸去，把这个点子告诉了她，并说愿意替她拟定一份演讲稿或是一些提要……也是他辩护发言的节录……事实上乃是演讲稿全文。
她还可以照自己意思重新组合一下，然后向公众讲讲……所有这些材料，最能说明她儿子案情的基本真相。于是，她那棕色脸颊泛上了红晕，眼睛也明亮起来，她同意就照这样办。让她试试看。她也非得试试看不可。在她多灾多难最黑暗的时刻，难道说这不就是上帝真的向她发出的声音和向她伸出巨掌来了吗?
转天早上，克莱德被押上法庭听候宣判。格里菲思太太被指定坐在靠近他的座位上，手里拿着纸和笔，要把这种对她来说难以忍受的场面记下来，而四周围大批听众却在仔细端详她。他亲生的母亲!
还作为一名记者出庭!
母与子这么一家人，出现在这么一个场合，真是有点儿怪诞。无情，甚至很荒唐。只要想一想莱柯格斯的格里菲思家跟他们竟然还是近亲哩。
可是，她的出庭却使克莱德得到了支持和鼓舞。昨天下午，她不是又去过监狱，向他谈过她的计划吗?
等开庭完了……不管是怎样宣判的……她就要开始干起来了。
因此，当他一生中最可怖的时刻终于来到了的时候，他几乎有些身不由己地站到奥伯沃泽法官跟前;法官首先简短扼要向他叙述了有关他的罪行以及审讯经过(据奥伯沃泽说，审讯是公正不阿的)。接下来是照例问他:
"你有什么理由，认为现在不应该依法判处你死刑?
"让他母亲和听众(但是杰夫森例外，因为是他关照过和撺掇过克莱德该这么回答的)大吃一惊的是，克莱德竟以干脆利落的声音回答说:
"公诉书上控告我有罪，可我是无罪的。我从来没有害死过罗伯达。奥尔登。
因此，我认为不该作出这么一个判决。"说罢，他两眼瞪着前方，仿佛感觉到的只是他母亲向他投去的那赞许和慈爱的一瞥。要知道在这个致命的关键时刻，她儿子不是已经当着所有这些听众的面表态了吗?
先不管他在监狱里说的话，他在这里说的是真话，可不是吗?
这么说来，她的儿子并没有罪。他并没有罪。赞美至高无上的主的名。她马上决定要在她的通讯报道里……还有日后在她的公开演讲里……都要特别强调指出这一点……让所有的报刊都照登不误。
不料，奥伯沃泽竟然毫无惊诧不安的神色，继续说道:
"你还有别的什么话要说吗?
""没有，"克莱德迟疑了半晌，回答说。
"克莱德。格里菲思，"于是，奥伯沃泽宣布结论说，"本庭宣判:
你，克莱德。
格里菲思，因谋杀罗伯达。奥尔登，现被判处死刑。兹规定自本庭判决后十日以内，卡塔拉基县执法官应随同证明无误的本庭判决书的副本，将你移送给奥伯恩纽约州监狱典狱长，单独关押至一九……年一月二十八日星期一开始的这一周为止，并委托奥伯恩纽约州监狱典狱长在这一周里指定的某一天，依照纽约州法令对你，克莱德。格里菲思，执行死刑。"宣读完毕，格里菲思太太向她儿子微微一笑，克莱德也向她报以一笑。因为，他既然已……在这里……声明自己无罪，所以宣判时她的精神亢奋起来。
说实在的，他是无辜的……他不可能不是这样的，反正他已在这里声明过了。
克莱德看见刚才她微微一笑，就自言自语道:
是的，现在他母亲一定相信他了。
所有这一切不利于他的证据，都没有使她的信念动摇。而这种信念，不管是不是错了，在这时候对他就是莫大支持……也正是他所迫切需要的。现在他自己认为，他刚才说的才是真话。他并没有砸过罗伯达。这是千真万确的。这就意味着，他是无罪的。可是，现在克劳特和斯拉克又把他押回牢房了。
这时，他母亲坐在记者席的桌子旁，向好奇地围住她的记者们解释道:
"你们各报记者先生们，你们可千万不要指责我。这个案子我并不太了解，不过，我要跟我的孩子在一起，我只好采用这个办法。要不是这样，我就来不了这里。"于是，一个身材颀长的记者走拢来说:
"别发愁，妈妈。有什么事要我帮忙吗?
您有什么话要说的，要我帮您整理一下吗?
我非常乐意。"说完，他就挨在她身旁坐下，按照他认为丹佛报社最欢迎的形式帮着她把她的印象整理成文。别的一些记者也表示愿意尽力效劳……他们全都感动极了。
两天以后，有关收监的公文备妥了，同时也通知了他的母亲，但是不准她陪同儿子入狱。于是，克莱德就被押往奥伯恩，那是纽约州西部一座监狱，关在那里号称"死牢"或是"杀人犯囚室"里……人们可以想象得到，那简直有如阴森可怖的地狱……那里总共有二十二间牢房，分设在两个楼面……他就被关在里头，听候复审，或是处以死刑。
不过，列车从布里奇伯格开往奥伯恩的途中，每到一站，就有大批好奇的群众……男男女女，老老少少……全都想一睹这个极不平凡的年轻凶手。姑娘们和女人们，其实最多只不过想就近看一看这个尽管以失败告终但是斗胆包天。
罗曼蒂克的英雄，可还是佯装出挺好心的样子来。每当列车从一个车站开到另一个车站的时候，她们常常向克莱德投掷鲜花，还兴高采烈地大声喊道:
"哈罗，克莱德!
但愿后会有期。别在那儿滞留太久呀!
""只要上诉，您肯定会无罪获释。反正我们巴不得这样。"让克莱德先是大吃一惊。继而深受鼓舞的，是这里人们突然表现出很不健康的。兴高采烈的。甚至是狂热的好奇心，显然跟布里奇伯格公众的态度大相径庭，但毕竟还是对他有利的。所以，他就向他们点头。微笑，有时甚至还向他们挥挥手哩。尽管如此，可他心里还是在想:
"我正在通往死屋的路上，但他们还这么友好地向我招呼。他们可真胆大呀。"克劳特和西塞尔这两个押解他的人，因为意识到自己既是抓住他，又是看押他的人，一身两役，深感荣幸，而且列车上的旅客和列车外的群众都对他们刮目相看，瞧他们得意极了，觉得自己高人一等了。
这是他被捕以后头一次时间虽短，但很丰富多采的迁徙。打从他眼前掠过的，是正在鹄望等候的群众，以及被冬日里阳光照亮的田野和白雪皑皑的山冈，使他回想到莱柯格斯，桑德拉和罗伯达，以及刚过去的一年零八个月里有如万花筒式千变万化而又使他在劫难逃并终于落到这么一个结局的所有一切遭际。
而这次移解一结束，出现在他眼前的，就是奥伯恩这座监狱，与世隔绝的高墙……他被移交给典狱长办公室一位职员以后，他的名字和罪行即被登记入册，随后把他交给两名助手，让他们安排他去监狱浴室洗澡。剃头……他历来孤芳自赏的。乌黑的波浪型秀发一古脑儿给剃掉了……又给了他一套带条纹的囚服。
一顶用同样带条纹面料做的。让人恶心的帽子。一件囚犯穿的内衣。一双灰色厚毡鞋(有时他惴惴不安地在牢房里来回走动，就可以听不见脚步声)，还有他的代号:
７７２２１。
他就这么穿戴好了以后，立即被送进死牢，关在底楼一间牢房里……这地方几乎呈正方形，八英尺宽，十英尺长，明亮，洁净，除了备有抽水马桶以外，还有一张小铁床。一张小桌子。一把椅子和一个小书架。现在他终于来到了这里。他只是模糊不清地觉得四周围还有其他牢房……沿着一条宽宽的过道，上上下下都是一排排牢房……他先是站了一会儿……然后坐了下来……记得在布里奇伯格监狱里，还有一些比较生动活泼。比较富于人情味的亲切感，现在连一点影儿都没有了。他一路上碰到的那些奇怪的群众与喧闹的场面，现在也通通没有了。
过去那些时刻里的极度紧张和痛苦!
那个死刑的判决;这次移押一路上碰到大声喧闹的群众;在底楼囚犯理发室把他的头发给剃了……还是另一个囚犯给他剃的。这套囚服。这件内衣，现在算是他的了，而且从今以后他就得每天穿在身上了。这儿没有镜子……到哪儿都没有……不过也没有什么了不起……反正他知道自己现在是个啥样子。这鼓鼓囊囊的上衣和裤子，还有这带条纹的帽子。
他在绝望之余，把它摘下来，往地上一扔。仅仅一个钟头以前，他还是衣冠楚楚地穿着体面衣服。衬衫。领带。鞋子。离开布里奇伯格时，他还觉得自己仪态雅洁，惹人喜爱。可是此刻……谅他一定丑死了!
而明天，他母亲要来了……过后，也许杰夫森或是贝尔纳普也要来。老天哪!
可是还有更糟的呢……跟他正对面的一间牢房里，有一个肌肤灰黄。面色消瘦。样子挺怪的中国人，身上也跟他一样穿上带条纹的囚服，走到自己牢门口铁栏杆旁，那一对莫测高深的斜白眼正在瞅着他。不过，此人马上又转过身去，使劲搔痒起来……克莱德立刻想到，说不定是虱子吧。在布里奇伯格就有臭虫嘛。
一个中国人……杀人犯。难道这儿不就是死牢吗。在这儿，他们两人之间压根儿没有任何区别。连穿的衣服也一式一样。谢天谢地，来这儿探监的说不定也不太多吧。他听母亲说过，这里几乎是谁都不准进来的……还说只有她。
贝尔纳普。杰夫森和他自己认可的牧师，方才可以每星期来探望一次。而这些铁面无情。刷成白色的墙壁，他看见白日里被宽大的天窗里透进来的阳光照得锃亮，夜里又给过道里白炽灯照得雪亮。可是，这一切跟布里奇伯格几乎不大一样……却是更加明亮。刺眼。在那儿，监狱年久失修，墙壁呈淡棕色，很不干净……牢房面积比较大一些，家具也多些……有一张小桌子，有时还铺上桌布;有书报，有棋子和棋盘。可在这里呢……这里什么都没有。只有铁面无私。
又狭又窄的墙壁……铁栏杆一直顶到坚硬厚实的天花板……还有非常。非常沉重的铁门，不过，如同布里奇伯格的铁门一样，上面有个小洞。当然罗，吃食都是从这里塞进来的。
可是就在这时，不知道从哪儿传来一个声音:
"嘿!
伙计们，又进来一个新的!
底楼，二号牢房，东头。"又响起了第二个声音:
"真的吗?
什么样儿的?
"接下来是第三个声音:
"新来的，叫什么名字?
别害怕。
你跟我们全是难兄难弟呗。"稍后，头一个声音回答第二个声音:
"好象是个瘦高个儿。一个小伢儿。看起来还象个小毛头，反正那也不赖。喂，你呀!
名字报给我们听!
"克莱德大吃一惊，怔呆了，可心里却在暗自琢磨。对这种见面方式，究竟该怎么对付呢?
该怎么说……怎么办?
该不该跟这拨人和和气气?
可是，他那圆通的本能即便在这里也没有离身，他赶紧彬彬有礼地回答说:
"克莱德。格里菲思。
"头几个声音里头有一个声音就接茬说:
"啊，准没错!
你是谁，我们全都听说过了。
欢迎，欢迎，格里菲思。我们并没有象人们想象的那么可怕。关于你在布里奇伯格的事，我们在报上全看过了。我们心里琢磨，你也该快来啦。"另一个声音却说:
"别太灰心丧气，伙计。这儿倒也并不太差劲。至少房子还不错……反正俗语说得好，头上有屋顶，冷风刮不着呗。"接着，不知从哪儿传来一阵格格大笑声。
可是，克莱德委实又害怕。又恶心，连话儿都不想说。他伤心地两眼先是盯着墙壁。牢门，然后盯着对过那个中国人……此人一气不吭在自己牢门口，两眼又直盯住克莱德。多吓人!
多吓人!
他们彼此之间竟然是这么交谈的，见了陌生人，也是一见如故。压根儿也不想到他的不幸。他的茫然若失。他的胆小……以及他经历过的痛苦。不过话又说回来，杀人犯干吗见了人就该提心吊胆，或者可怜巴巴的呢?
最可怕的是:
他们这儿早就在琢磨什么时候他来跟他们作伴儿。
这就是说，一切有关他的事，这儿已是尽人皆知了。如果说他不听话，也许他们就会捉弄他……或是吓唬他……或是故意找他的岔儿呢?
桑德拉或是不管他认识的哪一个人，要是亲眼看到，或是乃至于想到目前他在这儿的处境……天哪!
赶明儿他亲生的母亲就要到这儿来了。
过了一个钟头以后，已是薄暮时分了，一个身材高大。脸色灰白的狱警，穿着一套还算不太扎眼的制服，从门洞里塞进去一只盛食物的铁盘子。这就是晚餐呀!
而且是给他的。对过那个又黄又瘦的中国人，正在进晚餐呢。谁被他杀死了?
又是怎么杀死的呢?
这时响起了各间牢房里狠刮铁盘子的声音!
这种声音一下子使他想到的，是在向饥饿的牲口喂食，而不象是人们在进餐。有些人竟然一面在狼吞虎咽地吃，一面在舔刮铁盘子，一面还在谈山海经呢。他简直感到恶心透顶。
"嘿，伙房里那一帮子人，除了冷豆。咖啡。炸土豆以外，什么也想不出来，真是见鬼去吧。""今儿晚上的咖啡……喂，伙计!
……在布法罗监狱的时候……尽管……""啊，得了吧，快住嘴，"另一个角落里有人在大声嚷嚷。"什么布法罗监狱里，你吃的多阔气呀，我们早已听腻了。我说，你到了这儿，也不见得没有胃口吧。""反正不管怎么说，"头一个声音接下去说，"现在回想过去，的确够惬意啦。
至少现在看起来还是这样。""哦，拉弗蒂，算了吧，"另一个人高声喊道。
那个大概叫"拉弗蒂"的人还是不甘心，又说:
"现在，饭后我可得小睡一会儿……随后，我关照汽车夫，车子开过来，去兜兜风。今儿晚上多迷人呀。
"接下来是另一个嗓子嘶哑的声音:
"嘿，你这是在做白日梦。我呀把命豁出去了，只要能抽上一口烟就行。然后笃悠悠，玩玩纸牌。""难道说他们在这儿也玩纸牌?
"克莱德暗自思忖道。
"我说，罗森斯坦输得精光以后，也就不玩纸牌了。""哦，是吗?
"这大概是罗森斯坦在回话。
克莱德左边的牢房里有一个声音对走过的狱警在低声说话，但还是让人听得很清楚:
"喂，奥尔巴尼捎话来吗?
""什么话都没有，赫尔曼。""我说，连信也没有吧?
""没有信。"听得出那一问一答，声音非常紧张。急迫。可怜，在这以后也就鸦雀无声了。
过了半晌，从老远的一间牢房里传来一个声音，是来自人间地狱充满难以表达的极端绝望的声音……"哦，我的天哪!
哦，我的天哪!
哦，我的天哪!
"稍后，楼上传来了另一个声音:
"哦，天哪!
这个泥腿子又闹起来了?
我可受不了。警卫!
警卫!
能不能给那家伙一点儿安眠药?
"又听到最底层的声音:
"哦，我的天哪!
哦，我的天哪!
哦，我的天哪!
"克莱德站了起来，两手紧攥着。他的神经紧张得象快要绷裂的弦。一个杀人犯!
也许就要死了。要不然就是为了如同他克莱德一样可悲的命运而伤心。他在呻吟哭泣……就象他克莱德在布里奇伯格常常呻吟哭泣一样，至少在精神上。
如此号啕大哭!
天哪!
在这儿一定不止只有他一个人是这样。
于是，日日夜夜，类似这样的场面还有的是，毫无疑问，一直要到，也许……有谁说得清呢……除非……，可是，哦，不!
哦，不!
不是他本人的……不是的……决不是他的日子已到了。哦，不。在这可能发生以前，还得有整整一年时间……至少杰夫森是这么说。也许还得有两年时间。可是，在这……!
……而且是在两年以内啊!
!
!
他全身打了个寒颤，因为他一想到，哪怕是在那么短暂的两年里头……那另一个房间!
它也是不知在这儿哪个地方呀。反正这个房间就是跟它连在一起的。这他知道。那儿有一道门。通往那张电椅。那张电椅。
于是，那声音象刚才一样又说:
"哦，我的天哪!
哦，我的天哪!
"他倒在铁床上，两手捂住自己的耳朵。
收听单词发音 |
1
distrait
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| adj.心不在焉的 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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rumination
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| n.反刍，沉思 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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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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plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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sanctuary
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| n.圣所，圣堂，寺庙；禁猎区，保护区 | |
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gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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recessive
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| adj.退行的，逆行的，后退的，隐性的 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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wilt
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| v.(使)植物凋谢或枯萎；(指人)疲倦，衰弱 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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publicity
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| n.众所周知，闻名；宣传，广告 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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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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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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tribulation
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| n.苦难，灾难 | |
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arraigned
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| v.告发( arraign的过去式和过去分词 )；控告；传讯；指责 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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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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confinement
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| n.幽禁，拘留，监禁；分娩；限制，局限 | |
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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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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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lanky
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| adj.瘦长的 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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61
penitentiary
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| n.感化院；监狱 | |
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62
slayer
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| n. 杀人者，凶手 | |
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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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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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discrepancy
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| n.不同；不符；差异；矛盾 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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sanitary
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| adj.卫生方面的，卫生的，清洁的，卫生的 | |
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plumbing
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| n.水管装置；水暖工的工作；管道工程v.用铅锤测量（plumb的现在分词）；探究 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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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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baggy
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| adj.膨胀如袋的，宽松下垂的 | |
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emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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tact
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| n.机敏，圆滑，得体 | |
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courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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smoker
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| n.吸烟者，吸烟车厢，吸烟室 | |
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clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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