tales and fantasies-第3部分
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drink; than in the dangerous paradise from which they had
been routed。 There; over an almost tearful glass; they
debated their position。 Each explained he had the world to
lose if the affair went on; and he appeared as a witness。 It
was remarkable what bright prospects were just then in the
very act of opening before each of that little company of
youths; and what pious consideration for the feelings of
their families began now to well from them。 Each; moreover;
was in an odd state of destitution。 Not one could bear his
share of the fine; not one but evinced a wonderful twinkle of
hope that each of the others (in succession) was the very man
who could step in to make good the deficit。 One took a high
hand; he could not pay his share; if it went to a trial; he
should bolt; he had always felt the English Bar to be his
true sphere。 Another branched out into touching details
about his family; and was not listened to。 John; in the
midst of this disorderly competition of poverty and meanness;
sat stunned; contemplating the mountain bulk of his
misfortunes。
At last; upon a pledge that each should apply to his family
with a common frankness; this convention of unhappy young
asses broke up; went down the common stair; and in the grey
of the spring morning; with the streets lying dead empty all
about them; the lamps burning on into the daylight in
diminished lustre; and the birds beginning to sound
premonitory notes from the groves of the town gardens; went
each his own way with bowed head and echoing footfall。
The rooks were awake in Randolph Crescent; but the windows
looked down; discreetly blinded; on the return of the
prodigal。 John's pass…key was a recent privilege; this was
the first time it had been used; and; oh! with what a
sickening sense of his unworthiness he now inserted it into
the well…oiled lock and entered that citadel of the
proprieties! All slept; the gas in the hall had been left
faintly burning to light his return; a dreadful stillness
reigned; broken by the deep ticking of the eight…day clock。
He put the gas out; and sat on a chair in the hall; waiting
and counting the minutes; longing for any human countenance。
But when at last he heard the alarm spring its rattle in the
lower story; and the servants begin to be about; he instantly
lost heart; and fled to his own room; where he threw himself
upon the bed。
CHAPTER III … IN WHICH JOHN ENJOYS THE HARVEST HOME
SHORTLY after breakfast; at which he assisted with a highly
tragical countenance; John sought his father where he sat;
presumably in religious meditation; on the Sabbath mornings。
The old gentleman looked up with that sour; inquisitive
expression that came so near to smiling and was so different
in effect。
'This is a time when I do not like to be disturbed;' he said。
'I know that;' returned John; 'but I have … I want … I've
made a dreadful mess of it;' he broke out; and turned to the
window。
Mr。 Nicholson sat silent for an appreciable time; while his
unhappy son surveyed the poles in the back green; and a
certain yellow cat that was perched upon the wall。 Despair
sat upon John as he gazed; and he raged to think of the
dreadful series of his misdeeds; and the essential innocence
that lay behind them。
'Well;' said the father; with an obvious effort; but in very
quiet tones; 'what is it?'
'Maclean gave me four hundred pounds to put in the bank;
sir;' began John; 'and I'm sorry to say that I've been robbed
of it!'
'Robbed of it?' cried Mr。 Nicholson; with a strong rising
inflection。 'Robbed? Be careful what you say; John!'
'I can't say anything else; sir; I was just robbed of it;'
said John; in desperation; sullenly。
'And where and when did this extraordinary event take place?'
inquired the father。
'On the Calton Hill about twelve last night。'
'The Calton Hill?' repeated Mr。 Nicholson。 'And what were
you doing there at such a time of the night?'
'Nothing; sir;' says John。
Mr。 Nicholson drew in his breath。
'And how came the money in your hands at twelve last night?'
he asked; sharply。
'I neglected that piece of business;' said John; anticipating
comment; and then in his own dialect: 'I clean forgot all
about it。'
'Well;' said his father; 'it's a most extraordinary story。
Have you communicated with the police?'
'I have;' answered poor John; the blood leaping to his face。
'They think they know the men that did it。 I dare say the
money will be recovered; if that was all;' said he; with a
desperate indifference; which his father set down to levity;
but which sprung from the consciousness of worse behind。
'Your mother's watch; too?' asked Mr。 Nicholson。
'Oh; the watch is all right!' cried John。 'At least; I mean
I was coming to the watch … the fact is; I am ashamed to say;
I … I had pawned the watch before。 Here is the ticket; they
didn't find that; the watch can be redeemed; they don't sell
pledges。' The lad panted out these phrases; one after
another; like minute guns; but at the last word; which rang
in that stately chamber like an oath; his heart failed him
utterly; and the dreaded silence settled on father and son。
It was broken by Mr。 Nicholson picking up the pawn…ticket:
'John Froggs; 85 Pleasance;' he read; and then turning upon
John; with a brief flash of passion and disgust; 'Who is John
Froggs?' he cried。
'Nobody;' said John。 'It was just a name。'
'An ALIAS;' his father commented。
'Oh! I think scarcely quite that;' said the culprit; 'it's a
form; they all do it; the man seemed to understand; we had a
great deal of fun over the name … '
He paused at that; for he saw his father wince at the picture
like a man physically struck; and again there was silence。
'I do not think;' said Mr。 Nicholson; at last; 'that I am an
ungenerous father。 I have never grudged you money within
reason; for any avowable purpose; you had just to come to me
and speak。 And now I find that you have forgotten all
decency and all natural feeling; and actually pawned … pawned
… your mother's watch。 You must have had some temptation; I
will do you the justice to suppose it was a strong one。 What
did you want with this money?'
'I would rather not tell you; sir;' said John。 'It will only
make you angry。'
'I will not be fenced with;' cried his father。 'There must
be an end of disingenuous answers。 What did you want with
this money?'
'To lend it to Houston; sir;' says John。
'I thought I had forbidden you to speak to that young man?'
asked the father。
'Yes; sir;' said John; 'but I only met him。'
'Where?' came the deadly question。
And 'In a billiard…room' was the damning answer。 Thus; had
John's single departure from the truth brought instant
punishment。 For no other purpose but to see Alan would he
have entered a billiard…room; but he had desired to palliate
the fact of his disobedience; and now it appeared that he
frequented these disreputable haunts upon his own account。
Once more Mr。 Nicholson digested the vile tidings in silence;
and when John stole a glance at his father's countenance; he
was abashed to see the marks of suffering。
'Well;' said the old gentleman; at last; 'I cannot pretend
not to be simply bowed down。 I rose this morning what the
world calls a happy man … happy; at least; in a son of whom I
thought I could be reasonably proud … '
But it was beyond human nature to endure this longer; and
John interrupted almost with a scream。 'Oh; wheest!' he
cried; 'that's not all; that's not the worst of it … it's
nothing! How could I tell you were proud of me? Oh! I
wish; I wish that I had known; but you always said I was such
a disgrace! And the dreadful thing is this: we were all
taken up last night; and we have to pay Colette's fine among
the six; or we'll be had up for evidence … shebeening it is。
They made me swear to tell you; but for my part;' he cried;
bursting into tears; 'I just wish that I was dead!' And he
fell on his knees before a chair and hid his face。
Whether his father spoke; or whether he remained long in the
room or at once departed; are points lost to history。 A
horrid turmoil of mind and body; bursting sobs; broken;
vanishing thoughts; now of indignation; now of remorse;
broken elementary whiffs of consciousness; of the smell of
the horse…hair on the chair bottom; of the jangling of church
bells that now began to make day horrible throughout the
confines of the city; of the hard floor that bruised his
knees; of the taste of tears that found their way into his
mouth: for a period of time; the duration of which I cannot
guess; while I refuse to dwell longer on its agony; these
were the whole of God's world for John Nicholson。
When at last; as by the touching of a spring; he returned
again to clearness of consciousness and even a measure of
composure; the bells had but just done ringing; and the
Sabbath silence was still marred by the patter of belated
feet。 By the clock above the fire; as well as by these more
speaking signs; the service had not long begun; and the
unhappy sinner; if his father had really gone to church;
might count on near two hours of only comparative
unhappiness。 With his father; the superlative degree
returned infallibly。 He knew it by every shrinking fibre in
his body; he knew it by the sudden dizzy whirling of his
brain; at the mere thought of that calamity。 An hour and a
half; perhaps an hour and three…quarters; if the doctor was
long…winded; and then would begin again that active agony
from which; even in the dull ache of the present; he shrunk
as from the bite of fire。 He saw; in a vision; the family
pew; the somnolent cushions; the Bibles; the psalm…books;
Maria with her smelling…salts; his father sitting spectacled
an