tales and fantasies-第8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！



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

as　there　was　no　answer；　he　reverted　to　his　pleading：　'But　I

say；　Alan；　you've　just　got　to　take　me　in。　　I'll　go　right　away

to　bed　if　you　have　anything　to　do。　　I　seem　to　have　been

drinking；　I　was　that　knocked　over。　　I　wouldn't　turn　you　away；

Alan；　if　you　were　down　on　your　luck。'



'No？'　returned　Alan。　　'Neither　will　you；　then。　　Come　and

let's　get　your　portmanteau。'



The　cabman　was　paid；　and　drove　off　down　the　long；　lamp…

lighted　hill；　and　the　two　friends　stood　on　the　side…walk

beside　the　portmanteau　till　the　last　rumble　of　the　wheels　had

died　in　silence。　　It　seemed　to　John　as　though　Alan　attached

importance　to　this　departure　of　the　cab；　and　John；　who　was　in

no　state　to　criticise；　shared　profoundly　in　the　feeling。



When　the　stillness　was　once　more　perfect；　Alan　shouldered　the

portmanteau；　carried　it　in；　and　shut　and　locked　the　garden

door；　and　then；　once　more；　abstraction　seemed　to　fall　upon

him；　and　he　stood　with　his　hand　on　the　key；　until　the　cold

began　to　nibble　at　John's　fingers。



'Why　are　we　standing　here？'　asked　John。



'Eh？'　said　Alan；　blankly。



'Why；　man；　you　don't　seem　yourself；'　said　the　other。



'No；　I'm　not　myself；'　said　Alan；　and　he　sat　down　on　the

portmanteau　and　put　his　face　in　his　hands。



John　stood　beside　him　swaying　a　little；　and　looking　about　him

at　the　swaying　shadows；　the　flitting　sparkles；　and　the　steady

stars　overhead；　until　the　windless　cold　began　to　touch　him

through　his　clothes　on　the　bare　skin。　　Even　in　his　bemused

intelligence；　wonder　began　to　awake。



'I　say；　let's　come　on　to　the　house；'　he　said　at　last。



'Yes；　let's　come　on　to　the　house；'　repeated　Alan。



And　he　rose　at　once；　reshouldered　the　portmanteau；　and　taking

the　candle　in　his　other　hand；　moved　forward　to　the　Lodge。

This　was　a　long；　low　building；　smothered　in　creepers；　and

now；　except　for　some　chinks　of　light　between　the　dining…room

shutters；　it　was　plunged　in　darkness　and　silence。



In　the　hall　Alan　lighted　another　candle；　gave　it　to　John；　and

opened　the　door　of　a　bedroom。



'Here；'　said　he；　'go　to　bed。　　Don't　mind　me；　John。　　You'll　be

sorry　for　me　when　you　know。'



'Wait　a　bit；'　returned　John；　'I've　got　so　cold　with　all　that

standing　about。　　Let's　go　into　the　dining…room　a　minute。

Just　one　glass　to　warm　me；　Alan。'



On　the　table　in　the　hall　stood　a　glass；　and　a　bottle　with　a

whisky　label　on　a　tray。　　It　was　plain　the　bottle　had　been

just　opened；　for　the　cork　and　corkscrew　lay　beside　it。



'Take　that；'　said　Alan；　passing　John　the　whisky；　and　then

with　a　certain　roughness　pushed　his　friend　into　the　bedroom；

and　closed　the　door　behind　him。



John　stood　amazed；　then　he　shook　the　bottle；　and；　to　his

further　wonder；　found　it　partly　empty。　　Three　or　four　glasses

were　gone。　　Alan　must　have　uncorked　a　bottle　of　whisky　and

drank　three　or　four　glasses　one　after　the　other；　without

sitting　down；　for　there　was　no　chair；　and　that　in　his　own

cold　lobby　on　this　freezing　night！　　It　fully　explained　his

eccentricities；　John　reflected　sagely；　as　he　mixed　himself　a

grog。　　Poor　Alan！　　He　was　drunk；　and　what　a　dreadful　thing

was　drink；　and　what　a　slave　to　it　poor　Alan　was；　to　drink　in

this　unsociable；　uncomfortable　fashion！　　The　man　who　would

drink　alone；　except　for　health's　sake　…　as　John　was　now　doing

…　was　a　man　utterly　lost。　　He　took　the　grog　out；　and　felt

hazier；　but　warmer。　　It　was　hard　work　opening　the　portmanteau

and　finding　his　night　things；　and　before　he　was　undressed；

the　cold　had　struck　home　to　him　once　more。　　'Well；'　said　he；

'just　a　drop　more。　　There's　no　sense　in　getting　ill　with　all

this　other　trouble。'　　And　presently　dreamless　slumber　buried

him。



When　John　awoke　it　was　day。　　The　low　winter　sun　was　already

in　the　heavens；　but　his　watch　had　stopped；　and　it　was

impossible　to　tell　the　hour　exactly。　　Ten；　he　guessed　it；　and

made　haste　to　dress；　dismal　reflections　crowding　on　his　mind。

But　it　was　less　from　terror　than　from　regret　that　he　now

suffered；　and　with　his　regret　there　were　mingled　cutting

pangs　of　penitence。　　There　had　fallen　upon　him　a　blow；　cruel；

indeed；　but　yet　only　the　punishment　of　old　misdoing；　and　he

had　rebelled　and　plunged　into　fresh　sin。　　The　rod　had　been

used　to　chasten；　and　he　had　bit　the　chastening　fingers。　　His

father　was　right；　John　had　justified　him；　John　was　no　guest

for　decent　people's　houses；　and　no　fit　associate　for　decent

people's　children。　　And　had　a　broader　hint　been　needed；　there

was　the　case　of　his　old　friend。　　John　was　no　drunkard；　though

he　could　at　times　exceed；　and　the　picture　of　Houston　drinking

neat　spirits　at　his　hall…table　struck　him　with　something　like

disgust。　　He　hung　back　from　meeting　his　old　friend。　　He　could

have　wished　he　had　not　come　to　him；　and　yet；　even　now；　where

else　was　he　to　turn？



These　musings　occupied　him　while　he　dressed；　and　accompanied

him　into　the　lobby　of　the　house。　　The　door　stood　open　on　the

garden；　doubtless；　Alan　had　stepped　forth；　and　John　did　as　he

supposed　his　friend　had　done。　　The　ground　was　hard　as　iron；

the　frost　still　rigorous；　as　he　brushed　among　the　hollies；

icicles　jingled　and　glittered　in　their　fall；　and　wherever　he

went；　a　volley　of　eager　sparrows　followed　him。　　Here　were

Christmas　weather　and　Christmas　morning　duly　met；　to　the

delight　of　children。　　This　was　the　day　of　reunited　families；

the　day　to　which　he　had　so　long　looked　forward；　thinking　to

awake　in　his　own　bed　in　Randolph　Crescent；　reconciled　with

all　men　and　repeating　the　footprints　of　his　youth；　and　here

he　was　alone；　pacing　the　alleys　of　a　wintry　garden　and　filled

with　penitential　thoughts。



And　that　reminded　him：　why　was　he　alone？　and　where　was　Alan？

The　thought　of　the　festal　morning　and　the　due　salutations

reawakened　his　desire　for　his　friend；　and　he　began　to　call

for　him　by　name。　　As　the　sound　of　his　voice　died　away；　he　was

aware　of　the　greatness　of　the　silence　that　environed　him。

But　for　the　twittering　of　the　sparrows　and　the　crunching　of

his　own　feet　upon　the　frozen　snow；　the　whole　windless　world

of　air　hung　over　him　entranced；　and　the　stillness　weighed

upon　his　mind　with　a　horror　of　solitude。



Still　calling　at　intervals；　but　now　with　a　moderated　voice；

he　made　the　hasty　circuit　of　the　garden；　and　finding　neither

man　nor　trace　of　man　in　all　its　evergreen　coverts；　turned　at

last　to　the　house。　　About　the　house　the　silence　seemed　to

deepen　strangely。　　The　door；　indeed；　stood　open　as　before；

but　the　windows　were　still　shuttered；　the　chimneys　breathed

no　stain　into　the　bright　air；　there　sounded　abroad　none　of

that　low　stir　（perhaps　audible　rather　to　the　ear　of　the

spirit　than　to　the　ear　of　the　flesh）　by　which　a　house

announces　and　betrays　its　human　lodgers。　　And　yet　Alan　must

be　there　…　Alan　locked　in　drunken　slumbers；　forgetful　of　the

return　of　day；　of　the　holy　season；　and　of　the　friend　whom　he

had　so　coldly　received　and　was　now　so　churlishly　neglecting。

John's　disgust　redoubled　at　the　thought；　but　hunger　was

beginning　to　grow　stronger　than　repulsion；　and　as　a　step　to

breakfast；　if　nothing　else；　he　must　find　and　arouse　this

sleeper。



He　made　the　circuit　of　the　bedroom　quarters。　　All；　until　he

came　to　Alan's　chamber；　were　locked　from　without；　and　bore

the　marks　of　a　prolonged　disuse。　　But　Alan's　was　a　room　in

commission；　filled　with　clothes；　knickknacks；　letters；　books；

and　the　conveniences　of　a　solitary　man。　　The　fire　had　been

lighted；　but　it　had　long　ago　burned　out；　and　the　ashes　were

stone　cold。　　The　bed　had　been　made；　but　it　had　not　been　slept

in。



Worse　and　worse；　then；　Alan　must　have　fallen　where　he　sat；

and　now　sprawled　brutishly；　no　doubt；　upon　the　dining…room

floor。



The　dining…room　was　a　very　long　apartment；　and　was　reached

through　a　passage；　so　that　John；　upon　his　entrance；　brought

but　little　light　with　him；　and　must　move　toward　the　windows

with　spread　arms；　groping　and　knocking　on　the　furniture。

Suddenly　he　tripped　and　fell　his　length　over　a　prostrate

body。　　It　was　what　he　had　looked　for；　yet　it　shocked　him；　and

he　marvelled　that　so　rough　an　impact　should　not　have　kicked　a

groan　out　of　the　drunkard。　　Men　had　killed　themselves　ere　now

in　such　excesses；　a　dreary　and　degraded　end　that　made　John

shudder。　　What　if　Alan　were　dead？　　There　would　be　a

Christmas…day！



By　this；　John　had　his　hand　upon　the　shutters；　and　flinging

them　back；　beheld　once　again　the　blessed　face　of　the　day。

Even　by　that　light　the　room　had　a　discomfortable　air。　　The

chairs　were　scattered；　and　one　had　been　overthrown；　the

table…cloth；　laid　as　if　for　dinner；　was　twitched　upon　one

side；　and　some　of　the　dishes　had　fallen　to　the　floor。　　Behind

the　table　lay　the　drunkard；　still　unaroused；　only　one　foot

visible　to　John。



But　now　that　light　was　in　the　room；　the　worst　seemed　over；　it

was　a　disgusting　business；　but　not　more　than　disgusting；　and

it　was　with　no　great　ap