john ingerfield and other stories-第9部分

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her　lips。



〃Then　I　recrossed　the　ridge；　and　crawled　down　again；　and；　waiting

until　evening；　walked　slowly　up　the　path。　　As　I　came　in　view　of　the

house　she　saw　me；　and　waved　her　handkerchief　to　me；　and　in　answer　I

waved　my　hat；　and　shouted　curses　at　her　that　the　wind　whirled　away

into　the　torrent。　　She　met　me　with　a　kiss；　and　I　breathed　no　hint　to

her　that　I　had　seen。　　Let　her　devil's　work　remain　undisturbed。　　Let

it　prove　to　me　what　manner　of　thing　this　is　that　haunts　me。　　If　it　be

a　spirit；　then　the　bridge　wilt　bear　it　safely；　if　it　be　woman　…



〃But　I　dismiss　the　thought。　　If　it　be　human　thing；　why　does　it　sit

gazing　at　me；　never　speaking？　why　does　my　tongue　refuse　to　question

it？　why　does　all　power　forsake　me　in　its　presence；　so　that　I　stand　as

in　a　dream？　　Yet　if　it　be　spirit；　why　do　I　hear　the　passing　of　her

feet？　and　why　does　the　night…rain　glisten　on　her　hair？



〃I　force　myself　back　into　my　chair。　　It　is　far　into　the　night；　and　I

am　alone；　waiting；　listening。　　If　it　be　spirit；　she　will　come　to　me；

and　if　it　be　woman；　I　shall　hear　her　cry　above　the　stormunless　it

be　a　demon　mocking　me。



〃I　have　heard　the　cry。　　It　rose；　piercing　and　shrill；　above　the

storm；　above　the　riving　and　rending　of　the　bridge；　above　the　downward

crashing　of　the　logs　and　loosened　stones。　　I　hear　it　as　I　listen　now。

It　is　cleaving　its　way　upward　from　the　depths　below。　　It　is　wailing

through　the　room　as　I　sit　writing。



〃I　have　crawled　upon　my　belly　to　the　utmost　edge　of　the　still

standing　pier；　until　I　could　feel　with　my　hand　the　jagged　splinters

left　by　the　fallen　planks；　and　have　looked　down。　　But　the　chasm　was

full　to　the　brim　with　darkness。　　I　shouted；　but　the　wind　shook　my

voice　into　mocking　laughter。　　I　sit　here；　feebly　striking　at　the

madness　that　is　creeping　nearer　and　nearer　to　me。　　I　tell　myself　the

whole　thing　is　but　the　fever　in　my　brain。　　The　bridge　was　rotten。

The　storm　was　strong。　　The　cry　is　but　a　single　one　among　the　many

voices　of　the　mountain。　　Yet　still　I　listen；　and　it　rises；　clear　and

shrill；　above　the　moaning　of　the　pines；　above　the　sobbing　of　the

waters。　　It　beats　like　blows　upon　my　skull；　and　I　know　that　she　will

never　come　again。〃





Extract　from　the　last　letter：



〃I　shall　address　an　envelope　to　you；　and　leave　it　among　these

letters。　　Then；　should　I　never　come　back；　some　chance　wanderer　may

one　day　find　and　post　them　to　you；　and　you　will　know。



〃My　books　and　writings　remain　untouched。　　We　sit　together　of　a　night…

…this　woman　I　call　'wife'　and　Ishe　holding　in　her　hands　some

knitted　thing　that　never　grows　longer　by　a　single　stitch；　and　I　with

a　volume　before　me　that　is　ever　open　at　the　same　page。　　And　day　and

night　we　watch　each　other　stealthily；　moving　to　and　fro　about　the

silent　house；　and　at　times；　looking　round　swiftly；　I　catch　the　smile

upon　her　lips　before　she　has　time　to　smooth　it　away。



〃We　speak　like　strangers　about　this　and　that；　making　talk　to　hide　our

thoughts。　　We　make　a　pretence　of　busying　ourselves　about　whatever

will　help　us　to　keep　apart　from　one　another。



〃At　night；　sitting　here　between　the　shadows　and　the　dull　glow　of　the

smouldering　twigs；　I　sometimes　think　I　hear　the　tapping　I　have　learnt

to　listen　for；　and　I　start　from　my　seat；　and　softly　open　the　door　and

look　out。　　But　only　the　Night　stands　there。　　Then　I　close…to　the

latch；　and　shethe　living　womanasks　me　in　her　purring　voice　what

sound　I　heard；　hiding　a　smile　as　she　stoops　low　over　her　work；　and　I

answer　lightly；　and；　moving　towards　her；　put　my　arm　about　her；

feeling　her　softness　and　her　suppleness；　and　wondering；　supposing　I

held　her　close　to　me　with　one　arm　while　pressing　her　from　me　with　the

other；　how　long　before　I　should　hear　the　cracking　of　her　bones。



〃For　here；　amid　these　savage　solitudes；　I　also　am　grown　savage。　　The

old　primeval　passions　of　love　and　hate　stir　within　me；　and　they　are

fierce　and　cruel　and　strong；　beyond　what　you　men　of　the　later　ages

could　understand。　　The　culture　of　the　centuries　has　fallen　from　me　as

a　flimsy　garment　whirled　away　by　the　mountain　wind；　the　old　savage

instincts　of　the　race　lie　bare。　　One　day　I　shall　twine　my　fingers

about　her　full　white　throat；　and　her　eyes　will　slowly　come　towards

me；　and　her　lips　will　part；　and　the　red　tongue　creep　out；　and

backwards；　step　by　step；　I　shall　push　her　before　me；　gazing　the　while

upon　her　bloodless　face；　and　it　will　be　my　turn　to　smile。　　Backwards

through　the　open　door；　backwards　along　the　garden　path　between　the

juniper　bushes；　backwards　till　her　heels　are　overhanging　the　ravine；

and　she　grips　life　with　nothing　but　her　little　toes；　I　shall　force

her；　step　by　step；　before　me。　　Then　I　shall　lean　forward；　closer；

closer；　till　I　kiss　her　purpling　lips；　and　down；　down；　down；　past　the

startled　sea…birds；　past　the　white　spray　of　the　foss；　past　the

downward　peeping　pines；　down；　down；　down；　we　will　go　together；　till

we　find　the　thing　that　lies　sleeping　beneath　the　waters　of　the

fiord。〃





With　these　words　ended　the　last　letter；　unsigned。　　At　the　first

streak　of　dawn　we　left　the　house；　and；　after　much　wandering；　found

our　way　back　to　the　valley。　　But　of　our　guide　we　heard　no　news。

Whether　he　remained　still　upon　the　mountain；　or　whether　by　some　false

step　he　had　perished　upon　that　night；　we　never　learnt。







VARIETY　PATTER。







My　first　appearance　at　a　Music　Hall　was　in　the　year　one　thousand

eight　hundred　and　s。　　Well；　I　would　rather　not　mention　the　exact

date。　　I　was　fourteen　at　the　time。　　It　was　during　the　Christmas

holidays；　and　my　aunt　had　given　me　five　shillings　to　go　and　see

PhelpsI　think　it　was　Phelpsin　CoriolanusI　think　it　was

Coriolanus。　　Anyhow；　it　was　to　see　a　high…class　and　improving

entertainment；　I　know。



I　suggested　that　I　should　induce　young　Skegson；　who　lived　in　our

road；　to　go　with　me。　　Skegson　is　a　barrister　now；　and　could　not　tell

you　the　difference　between　a　knave　of　clubs　and　a　club　of　knaves。　　A

few　years　hence　he　will；　if　he　works　hard；　be　innocent　enough　for　a

judge。　　But　at　the　period　of　which　I　speak　he　was　a　red…haired　boy　of

worldly　tastes；　notwithstanding　which　I　loved　him　as　a　brother。　　My

dear　mother　wished　to　see　him　before　consenting　to　the　arrangement；

so　as　to　be　able　to　form　her　own　opinion　as　to　whether　he　was　a　fit

and　proper　companion　for　me；　and；　accordingly；　he　was　invited　to　tea。

He　came；　and　made　a　most　favourable　impression　upon　both　my　mother

and　my　aunt。　　He　had　a　way　of　talking　about　the　advantages　of

application　to　study　in　early　life；　and　the　duties　of　youth　towards

those　placed　in　authority　over　it；　that　won　for　him　much　esteem　in

grown…up　circles。　　The　spirit　of　the　Bar　had　descended　upon　Skegson

at　a　very　early　period　of　his　career。



My　aunt；　indeed；　was　so　much　pleased　with　him　that　she　gave　him　two

shillings　towards　his　own　expenses　（〃sprung　half　a　dollar〃　was　how　he

explained　the　transaction　when　we　were　outside）；　and　commended　me　to

his　especial　care。



Skegson　was　very　silent　during　the　journey。　　An　idea　was　evidently

maturing　in　his　mind。　　At　the　Angel　he　stopped　and　said：　　〃Look　here；

I'll　tell　you　what　we'll　do。　　Don't　let's　go　and　see　that　rot。　　Let's

go　to　a　Music　Hall。〃



I　gasped　for　breath。　　I　had　heard　of　Music　Halls。　　A　stout　lady　had

denounced　them　across　our　dinner　table　on　one　occasionfixing　the

while　a　steely　eye　upon　her　husband；　who　sat　opposite　and　seemed

uncomfortableas　low；　horrid　places；　where　people　smoked　and　drank；

and　wore　short　skirts；　and　had　added　an　opinion　that　they　ought　to　be

put　down　by　the　policewhether　the　skirts　or　the　halls　she　did　not

explain。　　I　also　recollected　that　our　charwoman；　whose　son　had　lately

left　London　for　a　protracted　stay　in　Devonshire；　had；　in　conversation

with　my　mother；　dated　his　downfall　from　the　day　when　he　first　visited

one　of　these　places；　and　likewise　that　Mrs。　Philcox's　nursemaid；　upon

her　confessing　that　she　had　spent　an　evening　at　one　with　her　young

man；　had　been　called　a　shameless　hussy；　and　summarily　dismissed　as

being　no　longer　a　fit　associate　for　the　baby。



But　the　spirit　of　lawlessness　was　strong　within　me　in　those　days；　so

that　I　hearkened　to　the　voice　of　Skegson；　the　tempter；　and　he　lured

my　feet　from　the　paths　that　led　to　virtue　and　Sadler's　Wells；　and　we

wandered　into　the　broad　and　crowded　ways　that　branch　off　from　the

Angel　towards　Merry　Islington。



Skegson　insisted　that　we　should　do　the　thing　in　style；　so　we　stopped

at　a　shop　near　the　Agricultural　Hall　and　purchased　some　big　cigars。

A　huge　card　in　the　window　claimed　for　these　that　they　were　〃the　most

satisfactory　twopenny　smokes　in　London。〃　　I　smoked　two　of　them　during

the　evening；　and　never　felt　more　satisfiedusing　the　word　in　its

true　sense；　as　implying　that　a　person　has　had　enough　of　a　thing；　and

does　not　desire　any　more　of　it；　just　thenin　all　my　life。　　Where　we

went；　and　what　we　saw；　my　memory　is　not　very　clear　upon。　　We　sat　at　a

little　marble　table。　　I　know　it　was　marble　because　it　was　so　hard；

and　cool　to　the　head。　　From　out　of　the　smoky　mist　a　ponderous

creature　of　strange；　undefined　shape　floated　heavily　towards　us；　and

deposited　a　squat　tumbler　in　front　of　me　containing　a　pale　yellowish

liquor；　which　subsequent　investigation　has　led　me　to　believe　must

have　been　Scotch　whisky。　　It　seemed　to　me　then　the　most　nauseous

stuff　I　had　ever　swallowed。　　It　is　curious　to　look　back　and　notice

how　one's　tastes　change。



I　reached　home　very　late　and　very　sick。　　That　was　my　first

dissipation；　and；　as　a　lesson；　it　has　been　of　more　practical　use　to

me　than　all　the　good　books　and　sermons　in　the　world　could　have　been。

I　can　remember　to　this　day　standing　in　the　middle　of　the　room　in　my

night…shirt；　trying　to　catch　my　bed　as　it　came　round。



Next　morning　I　confessed　everything　to　my　mother；　and；　for　several

months　afterwards；　was　a　reformed　character。　　Indeed；　the　pendulum　of

my　conscience　swung　too　far　the