章节正文
wasn't fat to begin with either. And there was no
other way we could have guessed, for the man's senses
were clean gone. I can't see that it is any wonder we
were all deceived. But it's a staggering thing. And
Leslie has sacrificed the best years of her life to
nursing a man who hadn't any claim on her! Oh, drat
the men! No matter what they do, it's the wrong thing.
And no matter who they are, it's somebody they
shouldn't be. They do exasperate me."
"Gilbert and Captain Jim are men, and it is through
them that the truth has been discovered at last," said
Anne.
"Well, I admit that," conceded Miss Cornelia
reluctantly. "I'm sorry I raked the doctor off so.
It's the first time in my life I've ever felt ashamed
of anything I said to a man. I don't know as I shall
tell him so, though. He'll just have to take it for
granted. Well, Anne, dearie, it's a mercy the Lord
doesn't answer all our prayers. I've been praying hard
right along that the operation wouldn't cure Dick. Of
course I didn't put it just quite so plain. But that
was what was in the back of my mind, and I have no
doubt the Lord knew it."
"Well, He has answered the spirit of your prayer. You
really wished that things shouldn't be made any harder
for Leslie. I'm afraid that in my secret heart I've
been hoping the operation wouldn't succeed, and I am
wholesomely ashamed of it."
"How does Leslie seem to take it?"
"She writes like one dazed. I think that, like
ourselves, she hardly realises it yet. She says, `It
all seems like a strange dream to me, Anne.' That is
the only reference she makes to herself."
"Poor child! I suppose when the chains are struck off
a prisoner he'd feel queer and lost without them for a
while. Anne, dearie, here's a thought keeps coming
into my mind. What about Owen Ford? We both know
Leslie was fond of him. Did it ever occur to you that
he was fond of her?"
"It--did--once," admitted Anne, feeling that she might
say so much.
"Well, I hadn't any reason to think he was, but it just
appeared to me he MUST be. Now, Anne, dearie, the Lord
knows I'm not a match-maker, and I scorn all such
doings. But if I were you and writing to that Ford man
I'd just mention, casual-like, what has happened. That
is what _I_'d do."
"Of course I will mention it when I write him," said
Anne, a trifle distantly. Somehow, this was a thing
she could not discuss with Miss Cornelia. And yet, she
had to admit that the same thought had been lurking in
her mind ever since she had heard of Leslie's freedom.
But she would not desecrate it by free speech.
"Of course there is no great rush, dearie. But Dick
Moore's been dead for thirteen years and Leslie has
wasted enough of her life for him. We'll just see what
comes of it. As for this George Moore, who's gone and
come back to life when everyone thought he was dead and
done for, just like a man, I'm real sorry for him. He
won't seem to fit in anywhere."
"He is still a young man, and if he recovers
completely, as seems likely, he will be able to make a
place for himself again. It must be very strange for
him, poor fellow. I suppose all these years since his
accident will not exist for him."
CHAPTER 33
LESLIE RETURNS
A fortnight later Leslie Moore came home alone to the
old house where she had spent so many bitter years. In
the June twilight she went over the fields to Anne's,
and appeared with ghost-like suddenness in the scented
garden.
"Leslie!" cried Anne in amazement. "Where have you
sprung from? We never knew you were coming. Why
didn't you write? We would have met you."
"I couldn't write somehow, Anne. It seemed so futile
to try to say anything with pen and ink. And I wanted
to get back quietly and unobserved."
Anne put her arms about Leslie and kissed her. Leslie
returned the kiss warmly. She looked pale and tired,
and she gave a little sigh as she dropped down on the
grasses beside a great bed of daffodils that were
gleaming through the pale, silverytwilight like golden
stars.
"And you have come home alone, Leslie?"
"Yes. George Moore's sister came to Montreal and took
him home with her. Poor fellow, he was sorry to part
with me--though I was a stranger to him when his memory
first came back. He clung to me in those first hard
days when he was trying to realise that Dick's death
was not the thing of yesterday that it seemed to him.
It was all very hard for him. I helped him all I
could. When his sister came it was easier for him,
because it seemed to him only the other day that he had
seen her last. Fortunately she had not changed much,
and that helped him, too."
"It is all so strange and wonderful, Leslie. I think
we none of us realise it yet."
"I cannot. When I went into the house over there an
hour ago, I felt that it MUST be a dream--that Dick
must be there, with his childish smile, as he had been
for so long. Anne, I seem stunned yet. I'm not glad or
sorry--or ANYTHING. I feel as if something had been
torn suddenly out of my life and left a terrible hole.
I feel as if I couldn't be _I_--as if I must have
changed into somebody else and couldn't get used to it.
It gives me a horriblelonely, dazed, helpless feeling.
It's good to see you again--it seems as if you were a
sort of anchor for my drifting soul. Oh, Anne, I
dread it all--the gossip and wonderment and
questioning. When I think of that, I wish that I need
not have come home at all. Dr. Dave was at the station
when I came off the train--he brought me home. Poor
old man, he feels very badly because he told me years
ago that nothing could be done for Dick. `I honestly
thought so, Leslie,' he said to me today. `But I
should have told you not to depend on my opinion--I
should have told you to go to a specialist. If I had,
you would have been saved many bitter years, and poor
George Moore many wasted ones. I blame myself very
much, Leslie.' I told him not to do that--he had done
what he thought right. He has always been so kind to
me--I couldn't bear to see him worrying over it."
"And Dick--George, I mean? Is his memory fully
restored?"
"Practically. Of course, there are a great many
details he can't recall yet--but he remembers more and
more every day. He went out for a walk on the evening
after Dick was buried. He had Dick's money and watch
on him; he meant to bring them home to me, along with
my letter. He admits he went to a place where the
sailors resorted--and he remembers drinking--and
nothing else. Anne, I shall never forget the moment he
remembered his own name. I saw him looking at me with
an intelligent but puzzled expression. I said, `Do you
know me, Dick?' He answered, `I never saw you before.
Who are you? And my name is not Dick. I am George
Moore, and Dick died of yellow fever yesterday! Where
am I? What has happened to me?' I--I fainted, Anne.
And ever since I have felt as if I were in a dream."
"You will soon adjust yourself to this new state of
things, Leslie. And you are young--life is before
you--you will have many beautiful years yet."
"Perhaps I shall be able to look at it in that way
after a while, Anne. Just now I feel too tired and
indifferent to think about the future. I'm--I'm--Anne,
I'm lonely. I miss Dick. Isn't it all very strange?
Do you know, I was really fond of poor Dick--George, I
suppose I should say--just as I would have been fond of
a helpless child who depended on me for everything. I
would never have admitted it--I was really ashamed of
it--because, you see, I had hated and despised Dick so
much before he went away. When I heard that Captain
Jim was bringing him home I expected I would just feel
the same to him. But I never did--although I continued
to loathe him as I remembered him before. From the
time he came home I felt only pity--a pity that hurt
and wrung me. I supposed then that it was just because
his accident had made him so helpless and changed. But
now I believe it was because there was really a
different personality there. Carlo knew it, Anne--I
know now that Carlo knew it. I always thought it
strange that Carlo shouldn't have known Dick. Dogs are
usually so faithful. But HE knew it was not his master
who had come back, although none of the rest of us
did. I had never seen George Moore, you know. I
remember now that Dick once mentioned casually that he
had a cousin in Nova Scotia who looked as much like him
as a twin; but the thing had gone out of my memory, and
in any case I would never have thought it of any
importance. You see, it never occurred to me to
question Dick's identity. Any change in him seemed to
me just the result of the accident.
"Oh, Anne, that night in April when Gilbert told me he
thought Dick might be cured! I can never forget it.
It seemed to me that I had once been a prisoner in a
hideous cage of torture, and then the door had been
opened and I could get out. I was still chained to the
cage but I was not in it. And that night I felt that a
merciless hand was drawing me back into the cage--back
to a torture even more terrible than it had once been.
I didn't blame Gilbert. I felt he was right. And he
had been very good--he said that if, in view of the
expense and uncertainty of the operation, I should
decide not to risk it, he would not blame me in the
least. But I knew how I ought to decide--and I
couldn't face it. All night I walked the floor like a
mad woman, trying to compel myself to face it. I
couldn't, Anne--I thought I couldn't--and when morning
broke I set my teeth and resolved that I WOULDN'T. I
would let things remain as they were. It was very
wicked, I know. It would have been just punishment for
such wickedness if I had just been left to abide by
that decision. I kept to it all day. That afternoon I
had to go up to the Glen to do some shopping. It was
one of Dick's quiet, drowsy days, so I left him alone.
I was gone a little longer than I had expected, and he
missed me. He felt lonely. And when I got home, he
ran to meet me just like a child, with such a pleased
smile on his face. Somehow, Anne, I just gave way
then. That smile on his poor vacant face was more than
other way we could have guessed, for the man's senses
were clean gone. I can't see that it is any wonder we
were all deceived. But it's a staggering thing. And
Leslie has sacrificed the best years of her life to
nursing a man who hadn't any claim on her! Oh, drat
the men! No matter what they do, it's the wrong thing.
And no matter who they are, it's somebody they
shouldn't be. They do exasperate me."
"Gilbert and Captain Jim are men, and it is through
them that the truth has been discovered at last," said
Anne.
"Well, I admit that," conceded Miss Cornelia
reluctantly. "I'm sorry I raked the doctor off so.
It's the first time in my life I've ever felt ashamed
of anything I said to a man. I don't know as I shall
tell him so, though. He'll just have to take it for
granted. Well, Anne, dearie, it's a mercy the Lord
doesn't answer all our prayers. I've been praying hard
right along that the operation wouldn't cure Dick. Of
course I didn't put it just quite so plain. But that
was what was in the back of my mind, and I have no
doubt the Lord knew it."
"Well, He has answered the spirit of your prayer. You
really wished that things shouldn't be made any harder
for Leslie. I'm afraid that in my secret heart I've
been hoping the operation wouldn't succeed, and I am
wholesomely ashamed of it."
"How does Leslie seem to take it?"
"She writes like one dazed. I think that, like
ourselves, she hardly realises it yet. She says, `It
all seems like a strange dream to me, Anne.' That is
the only reference she makes to herself."
"Poor child! I suppose when the chains are struck off
a prisoner he'd feel queer and lost without them for a
while. Anne, dearie, here's a thought keeps coming
into my mind. What about Owen Ford? We both know
Leslie was fond of him. Did it ever occur to you that
he was fond of her?"
"It--did--once," admitted Anne, feeling that she might
say so much.
"Well, I hadn't any reason to think he was, but it just
appeared to me he MUST be. Now, Anne, dearie, the Lord
knows I'm not a match-maker, and I scorn all such
doings. But if I were you and writing to that Ford man
I'd just mention, casual-like, what has happened. That
is what _I_'d do."
"Of course I will mention it when I write him," said
Anne, a trifle distantly. Somehow, this was a thing
she could not discuss with Miss Cornelia. And yet, she
had to admit that the same thought had been lurking in
her mind ever since she had heard of Leslie's freedom.
But she would not desecrate it by free speech.
"Of course there is no great rush, dearie. But Dick
Moore's been dead for thirteen years and Leslie has
wasted enough of her life for him. We'll just see what
comes of it. As for this George Moore, who's gone and
come back to life when everyone thought he was dead and
done for, just like a man, I'm real sorry for him. He
won't seem to fit in anywhere."
"He is still a young man, and if he recovers
completely, as seems likely, he will be able to make a
place for himself again. It must be very strange for
him, poor fellow. I suppose all these years since his
accident will not exist for him."
CHAPTER 33
LESLIE RETURNS
A fortnight later Leslie Moore came home alone to the
old house where she had spent so many bitter years. In
the June twilight she went over the fields to Anne's,
and appeared with ghost-like suddenness in the scented
garden.
"Leslie!" cried Anne in amazement. "Where have you
sprung from? We never knew you were coming. Why
didn't you write? We would have met you."
"I couldn't write somehow, Anne. It seemed so futile
to try to say anything with pen and ink. And I wanted
to get back quietly and unobserved."
Anne put her arms about Leslie and kissed her. Leslie
returned the kiss warmly. She looked pale and tired,
and she gave a little sigh as she dropped down on the
grasses beside a great bed of daffodils that were
gleaming through the pale, silverytwilight like golden
stars.
"And you have come home alone, Leslie?"
"Yes. George Moore's sister came to Montreal and took
him home with her. Poor fellow, he was sorry to part
with me--though I was a stranger to him when his memory
first came back. He clung to me in those first hard
days when he was trying to realise that Dick's death
was not the thing of yesterday that it seemed to him.
It was all very hard for him. I helped him all I
could. When his sister came it was easier for him,
because it seemed to him only the other day that he had
seen her last. Fortunately she had not changed much,
and that helped him, too."
"It is all so strange and wonderful, Leslie. I think
we none of us realise it yet."
"I cannot. When I went into the house over there an
hour ago, I felt that it MUST be a dream--that Dick
must be there, with his childish smile, as he had been
for so long. Anne, I seem stunned yet. I'm not glad or
sorry--or ANYTHING. I feel as if something had been
torn suddenly out of my life and left a terrible hole.
I feel as if I couldn't be _I_--as if I must have
changed into somebody else and couldn't get used to it.
It gives me a horriblelonely, dazed, helpless feeling.
It's good to see you again--it seems as if you were a
sort of anchor for my drifting soul. Oh, Anne, I
dread it all--the gossip and wonderment and
questioning. When I think of that, I wish that I need
not have come home at all. Dr. Dave was at the station
when I came off the train--he brought me home. Poor
old man, he feels very badly because he told me years
ago that nothing could be done for Dick. `I honestly
thought so, Leslie,' he said to me today. `But I
should have told you not to depend on my opinion--I
should have told you to go to a specialist. If I had,
you would have been saved many bitter years, and poor
George Moore many wasted ones. I blame myself very
much, Leslie.' I told him not to do that--he had done
what he thought right. He has always been so kind to
me--I couldn't bear to see him worrying over it."
"And Dick--George, I mean? Is his memory fully
restored?"
"Practically. Of course, there are a great many
details he can't recall yet--but he remembers more and
more every day. He went out for a walk on the evening
after Dick was buried. He had Dick's money and watch
on him; he meant to bring them home to me, along with
my letter. He admits he went to a place where the
sailors resorted--and he remembers drinking--and
nothing else. Anne, I shall never forget the moment he
remembered his own name. I saw him looking at me with
an intelligent but puzzled expression. I said, `Do you
know me, Dick?' He answered, `I never saw you before.
Who are you? And my name is not Dick. I am George
Moore, and Dick died of yellow fever yesterday! Where
am I? What has happened to me?' I--I fainted, Anne.
And ever since I have felt as if I were in a dream."
"You will soon adjust yourself to this new state of
things, Leslie. And you are young--life is before
you--you will have many beautiful years yet."
"Perhaps I shall be able to look at it in that way
after a while, Anne. Just now I feel too tired and
indifferent to think about the future. I'm--I'm--Anne,
I'm lonely. I miss Dick. Isn't it all very strange?
Do you know, I was really fond of poor Dick--George, I
suppose I should say--just as I would have been fond of
a helpless child who depended on me for everything. I
would never have admitted it--I was really ashamed of
it--because, you see, I had hated and despised Dick so
much before he went away. When I heard that Captain
Jim was bringing him home I expected I would just feel
the same to him. But I never did--although I continued
to loathe him as I remembered him before. From the
time he came home I felt only pity--a pity that hurt
and wrung me. I supposed then that it was just because
his accident had made him so helpless and changed. But
now I believe it was because there was really a
different personality there. Carlo knew it, Anne--I
know now that Carlo knew it. I always thought it
strange that Carlo shouldn't have known Dick. Dogs are
usually so faithful. But HE knew it was not his master
who had come back, although none of the rest of us
did. I had never seen George Moore, you know. I
remember now that Dick once mentioned casually that he
had a cousin in Nova Scotia who looked as much like him
as a twin; but the thing had gone out of my memory, and
in any case I would never have thought it of any
importance. You see, it never occurred to me to
question Dick's identity. Any change in him seemed to
me just the result of the accident.
"Oh, Anne, that night in April when Gilbert told me he
thought Dick might be cured! I can never forget it.
It seemed to me that I had once been a prisoner in a
hideous cage of torture, and then the door had been
opened and I could get out. I was still chained to the
cage but I was not in it. And that night I felt that a
merciless hand was drawing me back into the cage--back
to a torture even more terrible than it had once been.
I didn't blame Gilbert. I felt he was right. And he
had been very good--he said that if, in view of the
expense and uncertainty of the operation, I should
decide not to risk it, he would not blame me in the
least. But I knew how I ought to decide--and I
couldn't face it. All night I walked the floor like a
mad woman, trying to compel myself to face it. I
couldn't, Anne--I thought I couldn't--and when morning
broke I set my teeth and resolved that I WOULDN'T. I
would let things remain as they were. It was very
wicked, I know. It would have been just punishment for
such wickedness if I had just been left to abide by
that decision. I kept to it all day. That afternoon I
had to go up to the Glen to do some shopping. It was
one of Dick's quiet, drowsy days, so I left him alone.
I was gone a little longer than I had expected, and he
missed me. He felt lonely. And when I got home, he
ran to meet me just like a child, with such a pleased
smile on his face. Somehow, Anne, I just gave way
then. That smile on his poor vacant face was more than
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd]
a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词) - reference [´refərəns] n.参考；参照；出处 (初中英语单词)
- writing [´raitiŋ] n.书写；写作；书法 (初中英语单词)
- trifle [´traifəl] n.琐事，小事；少量 (初中英语单词)
- everyone [´evriwʌn] pron.=everybody 每人 (初中英语单词)
- twilight [´twailait] n.黎明；黄昏 (初中英语单词)
- amazement [ə´meizmənt] n.惊愕；惊奇 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- horrible [´hɔrəbəl] a.可怕的；恐怖的 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- helpless [´helpləs] a.无助的，无依靠的 (初中英语单词)
- anchor [´æŋkə] n.锚 v.抛锚 (初中英语单词)
- intelligent [in´telidʒənt] a.聪明的；理智的 (初中英语单词)
- adjust [ə´dʒʌst] vt.调整；校准；使适应 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- personality [,pə:sə´næliti] n.人；个性；人品；人物 (初中英语单词)
- faithful [´feiθfəl] a.忠实的；可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- torture [´tɔ:tʃə] n.&vt.折磨；痛苦；拷问 (初中英语单词)
- punishment [´pʌniʃmənt] n.罚，刑罚 (初中英语单词)
- vacant [´veikənt] a.空虚的，无表情的 (初中英语单词)
- fortnight [´fɔ:tnait] n.两星期 (高中英语单词)
- fortunately [´fɔ:tʃənətli] ad.幸运地 (高中英语单词)
- gossip [´gɔsip] n.&vi.说闲话；聊天 (高中英语单词)
- drowsy [´drauzi] a.困倦的；催眠的 (高中英语单词)
- silvery [´silvəri] a.银一般的 (英语四级单词)
- trying [´traiiŋ] a.难堪的；费劲的 (英语四级单词)
- specialist [´speʃəlist] n.专家 (英语四级单词)
- loathe [ləuð] vt.厌恶，嫌恶 (英语四级单词)
- drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] n.画图；制图；图样 (英语四级单词)
- uncertainty [ʌn´sə:tənti] n.不可靠；不确定的事 (英语四级单词)
- resolved [ri´zɔlvd] a.决心的；坚定的 (英语四级单词)
- exasperate [ig´zɑ:spəreit] vt.激怒，触怒 (英语六级单词)
- identity [ai´dentiti] n.身份；同一性；一致 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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