lazy tour of two idle apprentices-第7节

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the　walls；　which　were　of　a　very　dark　hue。　　There　was　a　fire　in　the

grate；　the　night　being　damp　and　chill。　　Leaning　against　the

chimney…piece　looking　down　into　it；　stood　the　Doctor's　Assistant。



A　man　of　a　most　remarkable　appearance。　　Much　older　than　Mr。

Goodchild　had　expected；　for　he　was　at　least　two…and…fifty；　but；

that　was　nothing。　　What　was　startling　in　him　was　his　remarkable

paleness。　　His　large　black　eyes；　his　sunken　cheeks；　his　long　and

heavy　iron…grey　hair；　his　wasted　hands；　and　even　the　attenuation　of

his　figure；　were　at　first　forgotten　in　his　extraordinary　pallor。

There　was　no　vestige　of　colour　in　the　man。　　When　he　turned　his

face；　Francis　Goodchild　started　as　if　a　stone　figure　had　looked

round　at　him。



'Mr。　Lorn；'　said　the　Doctor。　　'Mr。　Goodchild。'



The　Assistant；　in　a　distraught　way　…　as　if　he　had　forgotten

something　…　as　if　he　had　forgotten　everything；　even　to　his　own　name

and　himself　…　acknowledged　the　visitor's　presence；　and　stepped

further　back　into　the　shadow　of　the　wall　behind　him。　　But；　he　was

so　pale　that　his　face　stood　out　in　relief　again　the　dark　wall；　and

really　could　not　be　hidden　so。



'Mr。　Goodchild's　friend　has　met　with　accident；　Lorn；'　said　Doctor

Speddie。　　'We　want　the　lotion　for　a　bad　sprain。'



A　pause。



'My　dear　fellow；　you　are　more　than　usually　absent　to…night。　　The

lotion　for　a　bad　sprain。'



'Ah！　yes！　　Directly。'



He　was　evidently　relieved　to　turn　away；　and　to　take　his　white　face

and　his　wild　eyes　to　a　table　in　a　recess　among　the　bottles。　　But；

though　he　stood　there；　compounding　the　lotion　with　his　back　towards

them；　Goodchild　could　not；　for　many　moments；　withdraw　his　gaze　from

the　man。　　When　he　at　length　did　so；　he　found　the　Doctor　observing

him；　with　some　trouble　in　his　face。　　'He　is　absent；'　explained　the

Doctor；　in　a　low　voice。　　'Always　absent。　　Very　absent。'



'Is　he　ill？'



'No；　not　ill。'



'Unhappy？'



'I　have　my　suspicions　that　he　was；'　assented　the　Doctor；　'once。'



Francis　Goodchild　could　not　but　observe　that　the　Doctor　accompanied

these　words　with　a　benignant　and　protecting　glance　at　their

subject；　in　which　there　was　much　of　the　expression　with　which　an

attached　father　might　have　looked　at　a　heavily　afflicted　son。　　Yet；

that　they　were　not　father　and　son　must　have　been　plain　to　most

eyes。　　The　Assistant；　on　the　other　hand；　turning　presently　to　ask

the　Doctor　some　question；　looked　at　him　with　a　wan　smile　as　if　he

were　his　whole　reliance　and　sustainment　in　life。



It　was　in　vain　for　the　Doctor　in　his　easy…chair；　to　try　to　lead　the

mind　of　Mr。　Goodchild　in　the　opposite　easy…chair；　away　from　what

was　before　him。　　Let　Mr。　Goodchild　do　what　he　would　to　follow　the

Doctor；　his　eyes　and　thoughts　reverted　to　the　Assistant。　　The

Doctor　soon　perceived　it；　and；　after　falling　silent；　and　musing　in

a　little　perplexity；　said：



'Lorn！'



'My　dear　Doctor。'



'Would　you　go　to　the　Inn；　and　apply　that　lotion？　　You　will　show　the

best　way　of　applying　it；　far　better　than　Mr。　Goodchild　can。'



'With　pleasure。'



The　Assistant　took　his　hat；　and　passed　like　a　shadow　to　the　door。



'Lorn！'　said　the　Doctor；　calling　after　him。



He　returned。



'Mr。　Goodchild　will　keep　me　company　till　you　come　home。　　Don't

hurry。　　Excuse　my　calling　you　back。'



'It　is　not；'　said　the　Assistant；　with　his　former　smile；　'the　first

time　you　have　called　me　back；　dear　Doctor。'　　With　those　words　he

went　away。



'Mr。　Goodchild；'　said　Doctor　Speddie；　in　a　low　voice；　and　with　his

former　troubled　expression　of　face；　'I　have　seen　that　your

attention　has　been　concentrated　on　my　friend。'



'He　fascinates　me。　　I　must　apologise　to　you；　but　he　has　quite

bewildered　and　mastered　me。'



'I　find　that　a　lonely　existence　and　a　long　secret；'　said　the

Doctor；　drawing　his　chair　a　little　nearer　to　Mr。　Goodchild's；

'become　in　the　course　of　time　very　heavy。　　I　will　tell　you

something。　　You　may　make　what　use　you　will　of　it；　under　fictitious

names。　　I　know　I　may　trust　you。　　I　am　the　more　inclined　to

confidence　to…night；　through　having　been　unexpectedly　led　back；　by

the　current　of　our　conversation　at　the　Inn；　to　scenes　in　my　early

life。　　Will　you　please　to　draw　a　little　nearer？'



Mr。　Goodchild　drew　a　little　nearer；　and　the　Doctor　went　on　thus：

speaking；　for　the　most　part；　in　so　cautious　a　voice；　that　the　wind；

though　it　was　far　from　high；　occasionally　got　the　better　of　him。



When　this　present　nineteenth　century　was　younger　by　a　good　many

years　than　it　is　now；　a　certain　friend　of　mine；　named　Arthur

Holliday；　happened　to　arrive　in　the　town　of　Doncaster；　exactly　in

the　middle　of　a　race…week；　or；　in　other　words；　in　the　middle　of　the

month　of　September。　　He　was　one　of　those　reckless；　rattle…pated；

open…hearted；　and　open…mouthed　young　gentlemen；　who　possess　the

gift　of　familiarity　in　its　highest　perfection；　and　who　scramble

carelessly　along　the　journey　of　life　making　friends；　as　the　phrase

is；　wherever　they　go。　　His　father　was　a　rich　manufacturer；　and　had

bought　landed　property　enough　in　one　of　the　midland　counties　to

make　all　the　born　squires　in　his　neighbourhood　thoroughly　envious

of　him。　　Arthur　was　his　only　son；　possessor　in　prospect　of　the

great　estate　and　the　great　business　after　his　father's　death；　well

supplied　with　money；　and　not　too　rigidly　looked　after；　during　his

father's　lifetime。　　Report；　or　scandal；　whichever　you　please；　said

that　the　old　gentleman　had　been　rather　wild　in　his　youthful　days；

and　that；　unlike　most　parents；　he　was　not　disposed　to　be　violently

indignant　when　he　found　that　his　son　took　after　him。　　This　may　be

true　or　not。　　I　myself　only　knew　the　elder　Mr。　Holliday　when　he　was

getting　on　in　years；　and　then　he　was　as　quiet　and　as　respectable　a

gentleman　as　ever　I　met　with。



Well；　one　September；　as　I　told　you；　young　Arthur　comes　to

Doncaster；　having　decided　all　of　a　sudden；　in　his　harebrained　way；

that　he　would　go　to　the　races。　　He　did　not　reach　the　town　till

towards　the　close　of　the　evening；　and　he　went　at　once　to　see　about

his　dinner　and　bed　at　the　principal　hotel。　　Dinner　they　were　ready

enough　to　give　him；　but　as　for　a　bed；　they　laughed　when　he

mentioned　it。　　In　the　race…week　at　Doncaster；　it　is　no　uncommon

thing　for　visitors　who　have　not　bespoken　apartments；　to　pass　the

night　in　their　carriages　at　the　inn　doors。　　As　for　the　lower　sort

of　strangers；　I　myself　have　often　seen　them；　at　that　full　time；

sleeping　out　on　the　doorsteps　for　want　of　a　covered　place　to　creep

under。　　Rich　as　he　was；　Arthur's　chance　of　getting　a　night's

lodging　（seeing　that　he　had　not　written　beforehand　to　secure　one）

was　more　than　doubtful。　　He　tried　the　second　hotel；　and　the　third

hotel；　and　two　of　the　inferior　inns　after　that；　and　was　met

everywhere　by　the　same　form　of　answer。　　No　accommodation　for　the

night　of　any　sort　was　left。　　All　the　bright　golden　sovereigns　in

his　pocket　would　not　buy　him　a　bed　at　Doncaster　in　the　race…week。



To　a　young　fellow　of　Arthur's　temperament；　the　novelty　of　being

turned　away　into　the　street；　like　a　penniless　vagabond；　at　every

house　where　he　asked　for　a　lodging；　presented　itself　in　the　light

of　a　new　and　highly　amusing　piece　of　experience。　　He　went　on；　with

his　carpet…bag　in　his　hand；　applying　for　a　bed　at　every　place　of

entertainment　for　travellers　that　he　could　find　in　Doncaster；　until

he　wandered　into　the　outskirts　of　the　town。　　By　this　time；　the　last

glimmer　of　twilight　had　faded　out；　the　moon　was　rising　dimly　in　a

mist；　the　wind　was　getting　cold；　the　clouds　were　gathering　heavily；

and　there　was　every　prospect　that　it　was　soon　going　to　rain。



The　look　of　the　night　had　rather　a　lowering　effect　on　young

Holliday's　good　spirits。　　He　began　to　contemplate　the　houseless

situation　in　which　he　was　placed；　from　the　serious　rather　than　the

humorous　point　of　view；　and　he　looked　about　him；　for　another

public…house　to　inquire　at；　with　something　very　like　downright

anxiety　in　his　mind　on　the　subject　of　a　lodging　for　the　night。　　The

suburban　part　of　the　town　towards　which　he　had　now　strayed　was

hardly　lighted　at　all；　and　he　could　see　nothing　of　the　houses　as　he

passed　them；　except　that　they　got　progressively　smaller　and

dirtier；　the　farther　he　went。　　Down　the　winding　road　before　him

shone　the　dull　gleam　of　an　oil　lamp；　the　one　faint；　lonely　light

that　struggled　ineffectually　with　the　foggy　darkness　all　round　him。

He　resolved　to　go　on　as　far　as　this　lamp；　and　then；　if　it　showed

him　nothing　in　the　shape　of　an　Inn；　to　return　to　the　central　part

of　the　town　and　to　try　if　he　could　not　at　least　secure　a　chair　to

sit　down　on；　through　the　night；　at　one　of　the　principal　Hotels。



As　he　got　near　the　lamp；　he　heard　voices；　and；　walking　close　under

it；　found　that　it　lighted　the　entrance　to　a　narrow　court；　on　the

wall　of　which　was　painted　a　long　hand　in　faded　flesh…colour；

pointing　with　a　lean　forefinger；　to　this　inscription：…





THE　TWO　ROBINS。