章节正文
"Will you forgive my having followed you?" said I.
"I know you are always meaning kindly," she replied; and then, with a
little outburst, "but why will you be sending money to that man! It
must not be."
"I never sent it for him," said I, "but for you, as you know well."
"And you have no right to be sending it to either one of us," she said.
"David, it is not right."
"It is not, it is all wrong," said I, "and I pray God he will help this
dull fellow (if it be at all possible) to make it better. Catriona,
this is no kind of life for you to lead; and I ask your pardon for the
word, but yon man is no fit father to take care of you."
"Do not be speaking of him, even!" was her cry.
"And I need speak of him no more; it is not of him that I am thinking,
O, be sure of that!" says I. "I think of the one thing. I have been
alone now this long time in Leyden; and when I was by way of at my
studies, still I was thinking of that. Next Alan came, and I went
among soldier-men to their big dinners; and still I had the same
thought. And it was the same before, when I had her there beside me.
Catriona, do you see this napkin at my throat! You cut a corner from
it once and then cast it from you. They're YOUR colours now; I wear
them in my heart. My dear, I cannot be wanting you. O, try to put up
with me!"
I stepped before her so as to intercept her walking on.
"Try to put up with me," I was saying, "try and bear me with a little."
Still she had never the word, and a fear began to rise in me like a
fear of death.
"Catriona," I cried, gazing on her hard, "is it a mistake again? Am I
quite lost?"
She raised her face to me, breathless.
"Do you want me, Davie, truly?" said she, and I scarce could hear her
say it.
"I do that," said I. "O, sure you know it - I do that."
"I have nothing left to give or to keep back," said she. "I was all
yours from the first day, if you would have had a gift of me!" she
said,
This was on the summit of a brae; the place was windy and conspicuous,
we were to be seen there even from the English ship; but I kneeled down
before her in the sand, and embraced her knees, and burst into that
storm of weeping that I thought it must have broken me. All thought
was whollybeaten from my mind by the vehemency of my discomposure. I
knew not where I was. I had forgot why I was happy; only I knew she
stooped, and I felt her cherish me to her face and bosom, and heard her
words out of a whirl.
"Davie," she was saying, "O, Davie, is this what you think of me! Is
it so that you were caring for poor me! O, Davie, Davie!"
With that she wept also, and our tears were commingled in a perfect
gladness.
It might have been ten in the day before I came to a clear sense of
what a mercy had befallen me; and sitting over against her, with her
hands in mine, gazed in her face, and laughed out loud for pleasure
like a child, and called her foolish and kind names. I have never seen
the place that looked so pretty as those bents by Dunkirk; and the
windmill sails, as they bobbed over the knowe, were like a tune of
music.
I know not how much longer we might have continued to forget all else
besides ourselves, had I not chanced upon a reference to her father,
which brought us to reality.
"My little friend," I was calling her again and again, rejoicing to
summon up the past by the sound of it, and to gaze across on her, and
to be a little distant - "My little friend, now you are mine
altogether; mine for good, my little friend and that man's no longer at
all."
There came a sudden whiteness in her face, she plucked her hands from
mine.
"Davie, take me away from him!" she cried. "There's something wrong;
he's not true. There will be something wrong; I have a dreadful terror
here at my heart. What will he be wanting at all events with that
King's ship? What will this word be saying?" And she held the letter
forth. "My mind misgives me, it will be some ill to Alan. Open it,
Davie - open it and see."
I took it, and looked at it, and shook my head.
"No," said I, "it goes against me, I cannot open a man's letter."
"Not to save your friend?" she cried.
"I cannae tell," said I. "I think not. If I was only sure!"
"And you have but to break the seal!" said she.
"I know it," said I, "but the thing goes against me."
"Give it here," said she, "and I will open it myself."
"Nor you neither," said I. "You least of all. It concerns your
father, and his honour, dear, which we are both misdoubting. No
question but the place is dangerous-like, and the English ship being
here, and your father having word from it, and yon officer that stayed
ashore. He would not be alone either; there must be more along with
him; I daresay we are spied upon this minute. Ay, no doubt, the letter
should be opened; but somehow, not by you nor me."
I was about thus far with it, and my spirit very much overcome with a
sense of danger and hidden enemies, when I spied Alan, come back again
from following James and walking by himself among the sand-hills. He
was in his soldier's coat, of course, and mighty fine; but I could not
avoid to shudder when I thought how little that jacket would avail him,
if he were once caught and flung in a skiff, and carried on board of
the SEAHORSE, a deserter, a rebel, and now a condemned murderer.
"There," said I, "there is the man that has the best right to open it:
or not, as he thinks fit."
With which I called upon his name, and we both stood up to be a mark
for him.
"If it is so - if it be more disgrace - will you can bear it?" she
asked, looking upon me with a burning eye.
"I was asked something of the same question when I had seen you but the
once," said I. "What do you think I answered? That if I liked you as I
thought I did - and O, but I like you better! - I would marry you at
his gallows' foot."
The blood rose in her face; she came close up and pressed upon me,
holding my hand: and it was so that we awaited Alan.
He came with one of his queer smiles. "What was I telling ye, David?"
says he.
"There is a time for all things, Alan," said I, "and this time is
serious. How have you sped? You can speak out plain before this
friend of ours."
"I have been upon a fool's errand," said he.
"I doubt we have done better than you, then," said I; "and, at least,
here is a great deal of matter that you must judge of. Do you see
that?" I went on, pointing to the ship. "That is the SEAHORSE, Captain
Palliser."
"I should ken her, too," says Alan. "I had fyke enough with her when
she was stationed in the Forth. But what ails the man to come so
close?"
"I will tell you why he came there first," said I. "It was to bring
this letter to James More. Why he stops here now that it's delivered,
what it's likely to be about, why there's an officer hiding in the
bents, and whether or not it's probable that he's alone - I would
rather you considered for yourself."
"A letter to James More?" said he.
"The same," said I.
"Well, and I can tell ye more than that," said Alan. "For the last
night, when you were fast asleep, I heard the man colloguing with some
one in the French, and then the door of that inn to be opened and
shut."
"Alan!" cried I, "you slept all night, and I am here to prove it."
"Ay, but I would never trust Alan whether he was asleep or waking!"
says he. "But the business looks bad. Let's see the letter."
I gave it him.
"Catriona," said he, "you have to excuse me, my dear; but there's
nothing less than my fine bones upon the cast of it, and I'll have to
break this seal."
"It is my wish," said Catriona.
He opened it, glanced it through, and flung his hand in the air.
"The stinking brock!" says he, and crammed the paper in his pocket.
"Here, let's get our things together. This place is fair death to me."
And he began to walk towards the inn.
It was Catriona that spoke the first. "He has sold you?" she asked.
"Sold me, my dear," said Alan. "But thanks to you and Davie, I'll can
jink him yet. Just let me win upon my horse," he added.
"Catriona must come with us," said I. "She can have no more traffic
with that man. She and I are to be married." At which she pressed my
hand to her side.
"Are ye there with it?" says Alan, looking back. "The best day's work
that ever either of you did yet! And I'm bound to say, my dawtie, ye
make a real, bonny couple."
The way that he was following brought us close in by the windmill,
where I was aware of a man in seaman's trousers, who seemed to be
spying from behind it. Only, of course, we took him in the rear.
"See, Alan!"
"Wheesht!" said, he, "this is my affairs."
The man was, no doubt, a little deafened by the clattering of the mill,
and we got up close before he noticed. Then he turned, and we saw he
was a big fellow with a mahogany face.
"I think, sir," says Alan, "that you speak the English?"
"NON, MONSIEUR," says he, with an incredible bad accent.
"NON, MONSIEUR," cries Alan, mocking him. "Is that how they learn you
French on the SEAHORSE? Ye muckle, gutsey hash, here's a Scots boot to
your English hurdies!"
And bounding on him before he could escape, he dealt the man a kick
that laid him on his nose. Then he stood, with a savage smile, and
watched him scramble to his feet and scamper off into the sand-hills.
"But it's high time I was clear of these empty bents!" said Alan; and
continued his way at top speed, and we still following, to the backdoor
of Bazin's inn.
It chanced that as we entered by the one door we came face to face with
James More entering by the other.
"Here!" said I to Catriona, "quick! upstairs with you and make your
packets; this is no fit scene for you."
In the meanwhile James and Alan had met in the midst of the long room.
She passed them close by to reach the stairs; and after she was some
way up I saw her turn and glance at them again, though without pausing.
Indeed, they were worth looking at. Alan wore as they met one of his
best appearances of courtesy and friendliness, yet with something
eminently warlike, so that James smelled danger off the man, as folk
smell fire in a house, and stood prepared for accidents.
Time pressed. Alan's situation in that solitary place, and his enemies
about him, might have daunted Caesar. It made no change in him; and it
was in his old spirit of mockery and daffing that he began the
interview.
"A braw good day to ye again, Mr. Drummond," said he. "What'll yon
business of yours be just about?"
"Why, the thing being private, and rather of a long story," says James,
"I think it will keep very well till we have eaten."
"I'm none so sure of that," said Alan. "It sticks in my mind it's
either now or never; for the fact is me and Mr. Balfour here have
gotten a line, and we're thinking of the road."
I saw a little surprise in James's eye; but he held himself stoutly.
"I have but the one word to say to cure you of that," said he, "and
that is the name of my business."
"Say it then," says Alan. "Hout! wha minds for Davie?"
"It is a matter that would make us both rich men," said James.
"Do you tell me that?" cries Alan.
"I do, sir," said James. "The plain fact is that it is Cluny's
Treasure."
"No!" cried Alan. "Have ye got word of it?"
"I ken the place, Mr. Stewart, and can take you there," said James.
"This crowns all!" says Alan. "Well, and I'm glad I came to Dunkirk.
And so this was your business, was it? Halvers, I'm thinking?"
"I know you are always meaning kindly," she replied; and then, with a
little outburst, "but why will you be sending money to that man! It
must not be."
"I never sent it for him," said I, "but for you, as you know well."
"And you have no right to be sending it to either one of us," she said.
"David, it is not right."
"It is not, it is all wrong," said I, "and I pray God he will help this
dull fellow (if it be at all possible) to make it better. Catriona,
this is no kind of life for you to lead; and I ask your pardon for the
word, but yon man is no fit father to take care of you."
"Do not be speaking of him, even!" was her cry.
"And I need speak of him no more; it is not of him that I am thinking,
O, be sure of that!" says I. "I think of the one thing. I have been
alone now this long time in Leyden; and when I was by way of at my
studies, still I was thinking of that. Next Alan came, and I went
among soldier-men to their big dinners; and still I had the same
thought. And it was the same before, when I had her there beside me.
Catriona, do you see this napkin at my throat! You cut a corner from
it once and then cast it from you. They're YOUR colours now; I wear
them in my heart. My dear, I cannot be wanting you. O, try to put up
with me!"
I stepped before her so as to intercept her walking on.
"Try to put up with me," I was saying, "try and bear me with a little."
Still she had never the word, and a fear began to rise in me like a
fear of death.
"Catriona," I cried, gazing on her hard, "is it a mistake again? Am I
quite lost?"
She raised her face to me, breathless.
"Do you want me, Davie, truly?" said she, and I scarce could hear her
say it.
"I do that," said I. "O, sure you know it - I do that."
"I have nothing left to give or to keep back," said she. "I was all
yours from the first day, if you would have had a gift of me!" she
said,
This was on the summit of a brae; the place was windy and conspicuous,
we were to be seen there even from the English ship; but I kneeled down
before her in the sand, and embraced her knees, and burst into that
storm of weeping that I thought it must have broken me. All thought
was whollybeaten from my mind by the vehemency of my discomposure. I
knew not where I was. I had forgot why I was happy; only I knew she
stooped, and I felt her cherish me to her face and bosom, and heard her
words out of a whirl.
"Davie," she was saying, "O, Davie, is this what you think of me! Is
it so that you were caring for poor me! O, Davie, Davie!"
With that she wept also, and our tears were commingled in a perfect
gladness.
It might have been ten in the day before I came to a clear sense of
what a mercy had befallen me; and sitting over against her, with her
hands in mine, gazed in her face, and laughed out loud for pleasure
like a child, and called her foolish and kind names. I have never seen
the place that looked so pretty as those bents by Dunkirk; and the
windmill sails, as they bobbed over the knowe, were like a tune of
music.
I know not how much longer we might have continued to forget all else
besides ourselves, had I not chanced upon a reference to her father,
which brought us to reality.
"My little friend," I was calling her again and again, rejoicing to
summon up the past by the sound of it, and to gaze across on her, and
to be a little distant - "My little friend, now you are mine
altogether; mine for good, my little friend and that man's no longer at
all."
There came a sudden whiteness in her face, she plucked her hands from
mine.
"Davie, take me away from him!" she cried. "There's something wrong;
he's not true. There will be something wrong; I have a dreadful terror
here at my heart. What will he be wanting at all events with that
King's ship? What will this word be saying?" And she held the letter
forth. "My mind misgives me, it will be some ill to Alan. Open it,
Davie - open it and see."
I took it, and looked at it, and shook my head.
"No," said I, "it goes against me, I cannot open a man's letter."
"Not to save your friend?" she cried.
"I cannae tell," said I. "I think not. If I was only sure!"
"And you have but to break the seal!" said she.
"I know it," said I, "but the thing goes against me."
"Give it here," said she, "and I will open it myself."
"Nor you neither," said I. "You least of all. It concerns your
father, and his honour, dear, which we are both misdoubting. No
question but the place is dangerous-like, and the English ship being
here, and your father having word from it, and yon officer that stayed
ashore. He would not be alone either; there must be more along with
him; I daresay we are spied upon this minute. Ay, no doubt, the letter
should be opened; but somehow, not by you nor me."
I was about thus far with it, and my spirit very much overcome with a
sense of danger and hidden enemies, when I spied Alan, come back again
from following James and walking by himself among the sand-hills. He
was in his soldier's coat, of course, and mighty fine; but I could not
avoid to shudder when I thought how little that jacket would avail him,
if he were once caught and flung in a skiff, and carried on board of
the SEAHORSE, a deserter, a rebel, and now a condemned murderer.
"There," said I, "there is the man that has the best right to open it:
or not, as he thinks fit."
With which I called upon his name, and we both stood up to be a mark
for him.
"If it is so - if it be more disgrace - will you can bear it?" she
asked, looking upon me with a burning eye.
"I was asked something of the same question when I had seen you but the
once," said I. "What do you think I answered? That if I liked you as I
thought I did - and O, but I like you better! - I would marry you at
his gallows' foot."
The blood rose in her face; she came close up and pressed upon me,
holding my hand: and it was so that we awaited Alan.
He came with one of his queer smiles. "What was I telling ye, David?"
says he.
"There is a time for all things, Alan," said I, "and this time is
serious. How have you sped? You can speak out plain before this
friend of ours."
"I have been upon a fool's errand," said he.
"I doubt we have done better than you, then," said I; "and, at least,
here is a great deal of matter that you must judge of. Do you see
that?" I went on, pointing to the ship. "That is the SEAHORSE, Captain
Palliser."
"I should ken her, too," says Alan. "I had fyke enough with her when
she was stationed in the Forth. But what ails the man to come so
close?"
"I will tell you why he came there first," said I. "It was to bring
this letter to James More. Why he stops here now that it's delivered,
what it's likely to be about, why there's an officer hiding in the
bents, and whether or not it's probable that he's alone - I would
rather you considered for yourself."
"A letter to James More?" said he.
"The same," said I.
"Well, and I can tell ye more than that," said Alan. "For the last
night, when you were fast asleep, I heard the man colloguing with some
one in the French, and then the door of that inn to be opened and
shut."
"Alan!" cried I, "you slept all night, and I am here to prove it."
"Ay, but I would never trust Alan whether he was asleep or waking!"
says he. "But the business looks bad. Let's see the letter."
I gave it him.
"Catriona," said he, "you have to excuse me, my dear; but there's
nothing less than my fine bones upon the cast of it, and I'll have to
break this seal."
"It is my wish," said Catriona.
He opened it, glanced it through, and flung his hand in the air.
"The stinking brock!" says he, and crammed the paper in his pocket.
"Here, let's get our things together. This place is fair death to me."
And he began to walk towards the inn.
It was Catriona that spoke the first. "He has sold you?" she asked.
"Sold me, my dear," said Alan. "But thanks to you and Davie, I'll can
jink him yet. Just let me win upon my horse," he added.
"Catriona must come with us," said I. "She can have no more traffic
with that man. She and I are to be married." At which she pressed my
hand to her side.
"Are ye there with it?" says Alan, looking back. "The best day's work
that ever either of you did yet! And I'm bound to say, my dawtie, ye
make a real, bonny couple."
The way that he was following brought us close in by the windmill,
where I was aware of a man in seaman's trousers, who seemed to be
spying from behind it. Only, of course, we took him in the rear.
"See, Alan!"
"Wheesht!" said, he, "this is my affairs."
The man was, no doubt, a little deafened by the clattering of the mill,
and we got up close before he noticed. Then he turned, and we saw he
was a big fellow with a mahogany face.
"I think, sir," says Alan, "that you speak the English?"
"NON, MONSIEUR," says he, with an incredible bad accent.
"NON, MONSIEUR," cries Alan, mocking him. "Is that how they learn you
French on the SEAHORSE? Ye muckle, gutsey hash, here's a Scots boot to
your English hurdies!"
And bounding on him before he could escape, he dealt the man a kick
that laid him on his nose. Then he stood, with a savage smile, and
watched him scramble to his feet and scamper off into the sand-hills.
"But it's high time I was clear of these empty bents!" said Alan; and
continued his way at top speed, and we still following, to the backdoor
of Bazin's inn.
It chanced that as we entered by the one door we came face to face with
James More entering by the other.
"Here!" said I to Catriona, "quick! upstairs with you and make your
packets; this is no fit scene for you."
In the meanwhile James and Alan had met in the midst of the long room.
She passed them close by to reach the stairs; and after she was some
way up I saw her turn and glance at them again, though without pausing.
Indeed, they were worth looking at. Alan wore as they met one of his
best appearances of courtesy and friendliness, yet with something
eminently warlike, so that James smelled danger off the man, as folk
smell fire in a house, and stood prepared for accidents.
Time pressed. Alan's situation in that solitary place, and his enemies
about him, might have daunted Caesar. It made no change in him; and it
was in his old spirit of mockery and daffing that he began the
interview.
"A braw good day to ye again, Mr. Drummond," said he. "What'll yon
business of yours be just about?"
"Why, the thing being private, and rather of a long story," says James,
"I think it will keep very well till we have eaten."
"I'm none so sure of that," said Alan. "It sticks in my mind it's
either now or never; for the fact is me and Mr. Balfour here have
gotten a line, and we're thinking of the road."
I saw a little surprise in James's eye; but he held himself stoutly.
"I have but the one word to say to cure you of that," said he, "and
that is the name of my business."
"Say it then," says Alan. "Hout! wha minds for Davie?"
"It is a matter that would make us both rich men," said James.
"Do you tell me that?" cries Alan.
"I do, sir," said James. "The plain fact is that it is Cluny's
Treasure."
"No!" cried Alan. "Have ye got word of it?"
"I ken the place, Mr. Stewart, and can take you there," said James.
"This crowns all!" says Alan. "Well, and I'm glad I came to Dunkirk.
And so this was your business, was it? Halvers, I'm thinking?"
- forgive [fə´giv]
vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词) - pardon [´pɑ:dən] n.&vt.原谅；饶恕；赦免 (初中英语单词)
- scarce [skeəs, skers] a.缺乏的；稀有的 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- beaten [´bi:tn] beat 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- reference [´refərəns] n.参考；参照；出处 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- overcome [,əuvə´kʌm] vt.战胜，克服 (初中英语单词)
- hidden [´hid(ə)n] hide 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- jacket [´dʒækit] n.茄克衫；外套 (初中英语单词)
- disgrace [dis´greis] n.耻辱 vt.玷辱；贬黜 (初中英语单词)
- probable [´prɔbəbəl] a.大概的n.很可能的事 (初中英语单词)
- trousers [´trauzəz] n.裤子，长裤 (初中英语单词)
- savage [´sævidʒ] a.野蛮的 n.蛮人 (初中英语单词)
- meanwhile [´mi:n´wail] n.&ad.其间；同时 (初中英语单词)
- napkin [´næpkin] n.餐巾；手帕；尿布 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- summit [´sʌmit] n.顶(点)；绝顶 (高中英语单词)
- cherish [´tʃeriʃ] vt.珍爱；怀有(感情) (高中英语单词)
- rejoicing [ri´dʒɔisiŋ] n.高兴；欢呼 (高中英语单词)
- mighty [´maiti] a.强有力的 ad.很 (高中英语单词)
- shudder [´ʃʌdə] n.&vi.震颤；发抖 (高中英语单词)
- incredible [in´kredəbəl] a.不能相信的；惊人的 (高中英语单词)
- scramble [´skræmbəl] v.&n.爬；争夺；炒(蛋) (高中英语单词)
- courtesy [´kə:tisi] n.礼貌；殷勤；好意 (高中英语单词)
- solitary [´sɔlitəri] a.独居的；孤独的 (高中英语单词)
- caesar [´si:zə] n.凯撒；暴君；独裁者 (高中英语单词)
- befallen [bi´fɔ:lən] befall的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- mahogany [mə´hɔgəni] n.红木；桃花心木 (英语四级单词)
- scamper [´skæmpə] vi.浏览；涉猎 n.蹦跳 (英语四级单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- warlike [´wɔ:laik] a.战争的；好战的 (英语四级单词)
- outburst [´autbə:st] n.喷发；爆发；激增 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
- wanting [´wɔntiŋ, wɑ:n-] a.短缺的；不足的 (英语六级单词)
- intercept [,intə´sept] vt.拦截；截获；窃听 (英语六级单词)
- weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- friendliness [´frendlis] n.友爱，友好，友谊 (英语六级单词)
- mockery [´mɔkəri] n.嘲笑；笑柄 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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