tales and fantasies-第7节

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respected　my　pin！'　he　thought；　and　he　was　moved　as　by　a

slight；　and　began　at　once　to　recollect　that　he　was　here　an

interloper；　in　a　strange　house；　which　he　had　entered　almost

by　a　burglary；　and　where　at　any　moment　he　might　be

scandalously　challenged。



He　moved　at　once；　his　hat　still　in　his　hand；　to　the　door　of

his　father's　room；　opened　it；　and　entered。　　Mr。　Nicholson　sat

in　the　same　place　and　posture　as　on　that　last　Sunday　morning；

only　he　was　older；　and　greyer；　and　sterner；　and　as　he　now

glanced　up　and　caught　the　eye　of　his　son；　a　strange　commotion

and　a　dark　flush　sprung　into　his　face。



'Father；'　said　John；　steadily；　and　even　cheerfully；　for　this

was　a　moment　against　which　he　was　long　ago　prepared；　'father；

here　I　am；　and　here　is　the　money　that　I　took　from　you。　　I

have　come　back　to　ask　your　forgiveness；　and　to　stay　Christmas

with　you　and　the　children。'



'Keep　your　money；'　said　the　father；　'and　go！'



'Father！'　cried　John；　'for　God's　sake　don't　receive　me　this

way。　　I've　come　for　…　'



'Understand　me；'　interrupted　Mr。　Nicholson；　'you　are　no　son

of　mine；　and　in　the　sight　of　God；　I　wash　my　hands　of　you。

One　last　thing　I　will　tell　you；　one　warning　I　will　give　you；

all　is　discovered；　and　you　are　being　hunted　for　your　crimes；

if　you　are　still　at　large　it　is　thanks　to　me；　but　I　have　done

all　that　I　mean　to　do；　and　from　this　time　forth　I　would　not

raise　one　finger　…　not　one　finger　…　to　save　you　from　the

gallows！　　And　now；'　with　a　low　voice　of　absolute　authority；

and　a　single　weighty　gesture　of　the　finger；　'and　now　…　go！'







CHAPTER　VI　…　THE　HOUSE　AT　MURRAYFIELD







How　John　passed　the　evening；　in　what　windy　confusion　of　mind；

in　what　squalls　of　anger　and　lulls　of　sick　collapse；　in　what

pacing　of　streets　and　plunging　into　public…houses；　it　would

profit　little　to　relate。　　His　misery；　if　it　were　not

progressive；　yet　tended　in　no　way　to　diminish；　for　in

proportion　as　grief　and　indignation　abated；　fear　began　to

take　their　place。　　At　first；　his　father's　menacing　words　lay

by　in　some　safe　drawer　of　memory；　biding　their　hour。　　At

first；　John　was　all　thwarted　affection　and　blighted　hope；

next　bludgeoned　vanity　raised　its　head　again；　with　twenty

mortal　gashes：　and　the　father　was　disowned　even　as　he　had

disowned　the　son。　　What　was　this　regular　course　of　life；　that

John　should　have　admired　it？　what　were　these　clock…work

virtues；　from　which　love　was　absent？　　Kindness　was　the　test；

kindness　the　aim　and　soul；　and　judged　by　such　a　standard；　the

discarded　prodigal　…　now　rapidly　drowning　his　sorrows　and　his

reason　in　successive　drams　…　was　a　creature　of　a　lovelier

morality　than　his　self…righteous　father。　　Yes；　he　was　the

better　man；　he　felt　it；　glowed　with　the　consciousness；　and

entering　a　public…house　at　the　corner　of　Howard　Place

（whither　he　had　somehow　wandered）　he　pledged　his　own　virtues

in　a　glass　…　perhaps　the　fourth　since　his　dismissal。　　Of　that

he　knew　nothing；　keeping　no　account　of　what　he　did　or　where

he　went；　and　in　the　general　crashing　hurry　of　his　nerves；

unconscious　of　the　approach　of　intoxication。　　Indeed；　it　is　a

question　whether　he　were　really　growing　intoxicated；　or

whether　at　first　the　spirits　did　not　even　sober　him。　　For　it

was　even　as　he　drained　this　last　glass　that　his　father's

ambiguous　and　menacing　words　…　popping　from　their　hiding…

place　in　memory　…　startled　him　like　a　hand　laid　upon　his

shoulder。　　'Crimes；　hunted；　the　gallows。'　　They　were　ugly

words；　in　the　ears　of　an　innocent　man；　perhaps　all　the

uglier；　for　if　some　judicial　error　were　in　act　against　him；

who　should　set　a　limit　to　its　grossness　or　to　how　far　it

might　be　pushed？　　Not　John；　indeed；　he　was　no　believer　in　the

powers　of　innocence；　his　cursed　experience　pointing　in　quite

other　ways；　and　his　fears；　once　wakened；　grew　with　every　hour

and　hunted　him　about　the　city　streets。



It　was；　perhaps；　nearly　nine　at　night；　he　had　eaten　nothing

since　lunch；　he　had　drunk　a　good　deal；　and　he　was　exhausted

by　emotion；　when　the　thought　of　Houston　came　into　his　head。

He　turned；　not　merely　to　the　man　as　a　friend；　but　to　his

house　as　a　place　of　refuge。　　The　danger　that　threatened　him

was　still　so　vague　that　he　knew　neither　what　to　fear　nor

where　he　might　expect　it；　but　this　much　at　least　seemed

undeniable；　that　a　private　house　was　safer　than　a　public　inn。

Moved　by　these　counsels；　he　turned　at　once　to　the　Caledonian

Station；　passed　（not　without　alarm）　into　the　bright　lights　of

the　approach；　redeemed　his　portmanteau　from　the　cloak…room；

and　was　soon　whirling　in　a　cab　along　the　Glasgow　Road。　　The

change　of　movement　and　position；　the　sight　of　the　lamps

twinkling　to　the　rear；　and　the　smell　of　damp　and　mould　and

rotten　straw　which　clung　about　the　vehicle；　wrought　in　him

strange　alternations　of　lucidity　and　mortal　giddiness。



'I　have　been　drinking；'　he　discovered；　'I　must　go　straight　to

bed；　and　sleep。'　　And　he　thanked　Heaven　for　the　drowsiness

that　came　upon　his　mind　in　waves。



From　one　of　these　spells　he　was　wakened　by　the　stoppage　of

the　cab；　and；　getting　down；　found　himself　in　quite　a　country

road；　the　last　lamp　of　the　suburb　shining　some　way　below；　and

the　high　walls　of　a　garden　rising　before　him　in　the　dark。

The　Lodge　（as　the　place　was　named）；　stood；　indeed；　very

solitary。　　To　the　south　it　adjoined　another　house；　but

standing　in　so　large　a　garden　as　to　be　well　out　of　cry；　on

all　other　sides；　open　fields　stretched　upward　to　the　woods　of

Corstorphine　Hill；　or　backward　to　the　dells　of　Ravelston；　or

downward　toward　the　valley　of　the　Leith。　　The　effect　of

seclusion　was　aided　by　the　great　height　of　the　garden　walls；

which　were；　indeed；　conventual；　and；　as　John　had　tested　in

former　days；　defied　the　climbing　schoolboy。　　The　lamp　of　the

cab　threw　a　gleam　upon　the　door　and　the　not　brilliant　handle

of　the　bell。



'Shall　I　ring　for　ye？'　said　the　cabman；　who　had　descended

from　his　perch；　and　was　slapping　his　chest；　for　the　night　was

bitter。



'I　wish　you　would；'　said　John；　putting　his　hand　to　his　brow

in　one　of　his　accesses　of　giddiness。



The　man　pulled　at　the　handle；　and　the　clanking　of　the　bell

replied　from　further　in　the　garden；　twice　and　thrice　he　did

it；　with　sufficient　intervals；　in　the　great　frosty　silence　of

the　night　the　sounds　fell　sharp　and　small。



'Does　he　expect　ye？'　asked　the　driver；　with　that　manner　of

familiar　interest　that　well　became　his　port…wine　face；　and

when　John　had　told　him　no；　'Well；　then；'　said　the　cabman；　'if

ye'll　tak'　my　advice　of　it；　we'll　just　gang　back。　　And　that's

disinterested；　mind　ye；　for　my　stables　are　in　the　Glesgie

Road。'



'The　servants　must　hear；'　said　John。



'Hout！'　said　the　driver。　　'He　keeps　no　servants　here；　man。

They're　a'　in　the　town　house；　I　drive　him　often；　it's　just　a

kind　of　a　hermitage；　this。'



'Give　me　the　bell；'　said　John；　and　he　plucked　at　it　like　a

man　desperate。



The　clamour　had　not　yet　subsided　before　they　heard　steps　upon

the　gravel；　and　a　voice　of　singular　nervous　irritability

cried　to　them　through　the　door；　'Who　are　you；　and　what　do　you

want？'



'Alan；'　said　John；　'it's　me　…　it's　Fatty　…　John；　you　know。

I'm　just　come　home；　and　I've　come　to　stay　with　you。'



There　was　no　reply　for　a　moment；　and　then　the　door　was

opened。



'Get　the　portmanteau　down；'　said　John　to　the　driver。



'Do　nothing　of　the　kind；'　said　Alan；　and　then　to　John；　'Come

in　here　a　moment。　　I　want　to　speak　to　you。'



John　entered　the　garden；　and　the　door　was　closed　behind　him。

A　candle　stood　on　the　gravel　walk；　winking　a　little　in　the

draughts；　it　threw　inconstant　sparkles　on　the　clumped　holly；

struck　the　light　and　darkness　to　and　fro　like　a　veil　on

Alan's　features；　and　sent　his　shadow　hovering　behind　him。

All　beyond　was　inscrutable；　and　John's　dizzy　brain　rocked

with　the　shadow。　　Yet　even　so；　it　struck　him　that　Alan　was

pale；　and　his　voice；　when　he　spoke；　unnatural。



'What　brings　you　here　to…night？'　he　began。　　'I　don't　want；

God　knows；　to　seem　unfriendly；　but　I　cannot　take　you　in；

Nicholson；　I　cannot　do　it。'



'Alan；'　said　John；　'you've　just　got　to！　　You　don't　know　the

mess　I'm　in；　the　governor's　turned　me　out；　and　I　daren't　show

my　face　in　an　inn；　because　they're　down　on　me　for　murder　or

something！'



'For　what？'　cried　Alan；　starting。



'Murder；　I　believe；'　says　John。



'Murder！'　repeated　Alan；　and　passed　his　hand　over　his　eyes。

'What　was　that　you　were　saying？'　he　asked　again。



'That　they　were　down　on　me；'　said　John。　　'I'm　accused　of

murder；　by　what　I　can　make　out；　and　I've　really　had　a

dreadful　day　of　it；　Alan；　and　I　can't　sleep　on　the　roadside

on　a　night　like　this　…　at　least；　not　with　a　portmanteau；'　he

pleaded。



'Hush！'　said　Alan；　with　his　head　on　one　side；　and　then；　'Did

you　hear　nothing？'　he　asked。



'No；'　said　John；　thrilling；　he　knew　not　why；　with

communicated　terror。　　'No；　I　heard　nothing；　why？'　　And　then；

as　there