the holly-tree-第3节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


was　originally　house…breaking；　in　the　pursuit　of　which　art　he　had

had　his　right　ear　chopped　off　one　night；　as　he　was　burglariously

getting　in　at　a　window；　by　a　brave　and　lovely　servant…maid　（whom　the

aquiline…nosed　woman；　though　not　at　all　answering　the　description；

always　mysteriously　implied　to　be　herself）。　　After　several　years；

this　brave　and　lovely　servant…maid　was　married　to　the　landlord　of　a

country　Inn；　which　landlord　had　this　remarkable　characteristic；　that

he　always　wore　a　silk　nightcap；　and　never　would　on　any　consideration

take　it　off。　　At　last；　one　night；　when　he　was　fast　asleep；　the　brave

and　lovely　woman　lifted　up　his　silk　nightcap　on　the　right　side；　and

found　that　he　had　no　ear　there；　upon　which　she　sagaciously　perceived

that　he　was　the　clipped　housebreaker；　who　had　married　her　with　the

intention　of　putting　her　to　death。　　She　immediately　heated　the　poker

and　terminated　his　career；　for　which　she　was　taken　to　King　George

upon　his　throne；　and　received　the　compliments　of　royalty　on　her

great　discretion　and　valour。　　This　same　narrator；　who　had　a　Ghoulish

pleasure；　I　have　long　been　persuaded；　in　terrifying　me　to　the　utmost

confines　of　my　reason；　had　another　authentic　anecdote　within　her　own

experience；　founded；　I　now　believe；　upon　Raymond　and　Agnes；　or　the

Bleeding　Nun。　　She　said　it　happened　to　her　brother…in…law；　who　was

immensely　rich；which　my　father　was　not；　and　immensely　tall；which

my　father　was　not。　　It　was　always　a　point　with　this　Ghoul　to　present

my　clearest　relations　and　friends　to　my　youthful　mind　under

circumstances　of　disparaging　contrast。　　The　brother…in…law　was

riding　once　through　a　forest　on　a　magnificent　horse　（we　had　no

magnificent　horse　at　our　house）；　attended　by　a　favourite　and

valuable　Newfoundland　dog　（we　had　no　dog）；　when　he　found　himself

benighted；　and　came　to　an　Inn。　　A　dark　woman　opened　the　door；　and　he

asked　her　if　he　could　have　a　bed　there。　　She　answered　yes；　and　put

his　horse　in　the　stable；　and　took　him　into　a　room　where　there　were

two　dark　men。　　While　he　was　at　supper；　a　parrot　in　the　room　began　to

talk；　saying；　〃Blood；　blood！　　Wipe　up　the　blood！〃　　Upon　which　one　of

the　dark　men　wrung　the　parrot's　neck；　and　said　he　was　fond　of

roasted　parrots；　and　he　meant　to　have　this　one　for　breakfast　in　the

morning。　　After　eating　and　drinking　heartily；　the　immensely　rich；

tall　brother…in…law　went　up　to　bed；　but　he　was　rather　vexed；　because

they　had　shut　his　dog　in　the　stable；　saying　that　they　never　allowed

dogs　in　the　house。　　He　sat　very　quiet　for　more　than　an　hour；

thinking　and　thinking；　when；　just　as　his　candle　was　burning　out；　he

heard　a　scratch　at　the　door。　　He　opened　the　door；　and　there　was　the

Newfoundland　dog！　　The　dog　came　softly　in；　smelt　about　him；　went

straight　to　some　straw　in　the　corner　which　the　dark　men　had　said

covered　apples；　tore　the　straw　away；　and　disclosed　two　sheets

steeped　in　blood。　　Just　at　that　moment　the　candle　went　out；　and　the

brother…in…law；　looking　through　a　chink　in　the　door；　saw　the　two

dark　men　stealing　up…stairs；　one　armed　with　a　dagger　that　long

（about　five　feet）；　the　other　carrying　a　chopper；　a　sack；　and　a

spade。　　Having　no　remembrance　of　the　close　of　this　adventure；　I

suppose　my　faculties　to　have　been　always　so　frozen　with　terror　at

this　stage　of　it；　that　the　power　of　listening　stagnated　within　me

for　some　quarter　of　an　hour。



These　barbarous　stories　carried　me；　sitting　there　on　the　Holly…Tree

hearth；　to　the　Roadside　Inn；　renowned　in　my　time　in　a　sixpenny　book

with　a　folding　plate；　representing　in　a　central　compartment　of　oval

form　the　portrait　of　Jonathan　Bradford；　and　in　four　corner

compartments　four　incidents　of　the　tragedy　with　which　the　name　is

associated；coloured　with　a　hand　at　once　so　free　and　economical；

that　the　bloom　of　Jonathan's　complexion　passed　without　any　pause

into　the　breeches　of　the　ostler；　and；　smearing　itself　off　into　the

next　division；　became　rum　in　a　bottle。　　Then　I　remembered　how　the

landlord　was　found　at　the　murdered　traveller's　bedside；　with　his　own

knife　at　his　feet；　and　blood　upon　his　hand；　how　he　was　hanged　for

the　murder；　notwithstanding　his　protestation　that　he　had　indeed　come

there　to　kill　the　traveller　for　his　saddle…bags；　but　had　been

stricken　motionless　on　finding　him　already　slain；　and　how　the

ostler；　years　afterwards；　owned　the　deed。　　By　this　time　I　had　made

myself　quite　uncomfortable。　　I　stirred　the　fire；　and　stood　with　my

back　to　it　as　long　as　I　could　bear　the　heat；　looking　up　at　the

darkness　beyond　the　screen；　and　at　the　wormy　curtains　creeping　in

and　creeping　out；　like　the　worms　in　the　ballad　of　Alonzo　the　Brave

and　the　Fair　Imogene。



There　was　an　Inn　in　the　cathedral　town　where　I　went　to　school；　which

had　pleasanter　recollections　about　it　than　any　of　these。　　I　took　it

next。　　It　was　the　Inn　where　friends　used　to　put　up；　and　where　we

used　to　go　to　see　parents；　and　to　have　salmon　and　fowls；　and　be

tipped。　　It　had　an　ecclesiastical　sign；the　Mitre；and　a　bar　that

seemed　to　be　the　next　best　thing　to　a　bishopric；　it　was　so　snug。　　I

loved　the　landlord's　youngest　daughter　to　distraction；but　let　that

pass。　　It　was　in　this　Inn　that　I　was　cried　over　by　my　rosy　little

sister；　because　I　had　acquired　a　black　eye　in　a　fight。　　And　though

she　had　been；　that　Holly…Tree　night；　for　many　a　long　year　where　all

tears　are　dried；　the　Mitre　softened　me　yet。



〃To　be　continued　to…morrow；〃　said　I；　when　I　took　my　candle　to　go　to

bed。　　But　my　bed　took　it　upon　itself　to　continue　the　train　of

thought　that　night。　　It　carried　me　away；　like　the　enchanted　carpet；

to　a　distant　place　（though　still　in　England）；　and　there；　alighting

from　a　stage…coach　at　another　Inn　in　the　snow；　as　I　had　actually

done　some　years　before；　I　repeated　in　my　sleep　a　curious　experience

I　had　really　had　there。　　More　than　a　year　before　I　made　the　journey

in　the　course　of　which　I　put　up　at　that　Inn；　I　had　lost　a　very　near

and　dear　friend　by　death。　　Every　night　since；　at　home　or　away　from

home；　I　had　dreamed　of　that　friend；　sometimes　as　still　living；

sometimes　as　returning　from　the　world　of　shadows　to　comfort　me；

always　as　being　beautiful；　placid；　and　happy；　never　in　association

with　any　approach　to　fear　or　distress。　　It　was　at　a　lonely　Inn　in　a

wide　moorland　place；　that　I　halted　to　pass　the　night。　　When　I　had

looked　from　my　bedroom　window　over　the　waste　of　snow　on　which　the

moon　was　shining；　I　sat　down　by　my　fire　to　write　a　letter。　　I　had

always；　until　that　hour；　kept　it　within　my　own　breast　that　I　dreamed

every　night　of　the　dear　lost　one。　　But　in　the　letter　that　I　wrote　I

recorded　the　circumstance；　and　added　that　I　felt　much　interested　in

proving　whether　the　subject　of　my　dream　would　still　be　faithful　to

me；　travel…tired；　and　in　that　remote　place。　　No。　　I　lost　the　beloved

figure　of　my　vision　in　parting　with　the　secret。　　My　sleep　has　never

looked　upon　it　since；　in　sixteen　years；　but　once。　　I　was　in　Italy；

and　awoke　（or　seemed　to　awake）；　the　well…remembered　voice　distinctly

in　my　ears；　conversing　with　it。　　I　entreated　it；　as　it　rose　above　my

bed　and　soared　up　to　the　vaulted　roof　of　the　old　room；　to　answer　me

a　question　I　had　asked　touching　the　Future　Life。　　My　hands　were

still　outstretched　towards　it　as　it　vanished；　when　I　heard　a　bell

ringing　by　the　garden　wall；　and　a　voice　in　the　deep　stillness　of　the

night　calling　on　all　good　Christians　to　pray　for　the　souls　of　the

dead；　it　being　All　Souls'　Eve。



To　return　to　the　Holly…Tree。　　When　I　awoke　next　day；　it　was　freezing

hard；　and　the　lowering　sky　threatened　more　snow。　　My　breakfast

cleared　away；　I　drew　my　chair　into　its　former　place；　and；　with　the

fire　getting　so　much　the　better　of　the　landscape　that　I　sat　in

twilight；　resumed　my　Inn　remembrances。



That　was　a　good　Inn　down　in　Wiltshire　where　I　put　up　once；　in　the

days　of　the　hard　Wiltshire　ale；　and　before　all　beer　was　bitterness。

It　was　on　the　skirts　of　Salisbury　Plain；　and　the　midnight　wind　that

rattled　my　lattice　window　came　moaning　at　me　from　Stonehenge。　　There

was　a　hanger…on　at　that　establishment　（a　supernaturally　preserved

Druid　I　believe　him　to　have　been；　and　to　be　still）；　with　long　white

hair；　and　a　flinty　blue　eye　always　looking　afar　off；　who　claimed　to

have　been　a　shepherd；　and　who　seemed　to　be　ever　watching　for　the

reappearance；　on　the　verge　of　the　horizon；　of　some　ghostly　flock　of

sheep　that　had　been　mutton　for　many　ages。　　He　was　a　man　with　a　weird

belief　in　him　that　no　one　could　count　the　stones　of　Stonehenge

twice；　and　make　the　same　number　of　them；　likewise；　that　any　one　who

counted　them　three　times　nine　times；　and　then　stood　in　the　centre

and　said；　〃I　dare！〃　would　behold　a　tremendous　apparition；　and　be

stricken　dead。　　He　pretended　to　have　seen　a　bustard　（I　suspect　him

to　have　been　familiar　with　the　dodo）；　in　manner　following：　　He　was

out　upon　the　plain　at　the　close　of　a　late　autumn　day；　when　he　dimly

discerned；　going　on　before　him　at　a　curious　fitfully　bounding　pace；

what　he　at　firs