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The Wrong Box-Part7_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON(1850-1894)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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resident for political reasons in the gay city of Paris. A common

friend (to whom he had confided his distress) recommended him to



Michael; and the lawyer was no sooner in possession of the facts

than he instantly assumed the offensive, fell on the flank of the



Wallachian forces, and, in the inside of three days, had the

satisfaction to behold them routed and fleeing for the Danube. It



is no business of ours to follow them on this retreat, over which

the police were so obliging as to preside paternally. Thus



relieved from what he loved to refer to as the Bulgarian

Atrocity, Mr Wickham returned to London with the most unbounded



and embarrassing gratitude and admiration for his saviour. These

sentiments were not repaid either in kind or degree; indeed,



Michael was a trifleashamed of his new client's friendship; it

had taken many invitations to get him to Winchester and Wickham



Manor; but he had gone at last, and was now returning. It has

been remarked by some judicious thinker (possibly J. F. Smith)



that Providence despises to employ no instrument, however humble;

and it is now plain to the dullest that both Mr Wickham and the



Wallachian Hospodar were liquid lead and wedges in the hand of

Destiny.



Smitten with the desire to shine in Michael's eyes and show

himself a person of original humour and resources, the young



gentleman (who was a magistrate, more by token, in his native

county) was no sooner alone in the van than he fell upon the



labels with all the zeal of a reformer; and, when he rejoined the

lawyer at Bishopstoke, his face was flushed with his exertions,



and his cigar, which he had suffered to go out was almost bitten

in two.



'By George, but this has been a lark!' he cried. 'I've sent the

wrong thing to everybody in England. These cousins of yours have



a packing-case as big as a house. I've muddled the whole business

up to that extent, Finsbury, that if it were to get out it's my



belief we should get lynched.'

It was useless to be serious with Mr Wickham. 'Take care,' said



Michael. 'I am getting tired of your perpetual scrapes; my

reputation is beginning to suffer.'



'Your reputation will be all gone before you finish with me,'

replied his companion with a grin. 'Clap it in the bill, my boy.



"For total loss of reputation, six and eightpence." But,'

continued Mr Wickham with more seriousness, 'could I be bowled



out of the Commission for this little jest? I know it's small,

but I like to be a JP. Speaking as a professional man, do you



think there's any risk?'

'What does it matter?' responded Michael, 'they'll chuck you out



sooner or later. Somehow you don't give the effect of being a

good magistrate.'



'I only wish I was a solicitor,' retorted his companion, 'instead

of a poor devil of a country gentleman. Suppose we start one of



those tontine affairs ourselves; I to pay five hundred a year,

and you to guarantee me against every misfortune except illness



or marriage.'

'It strikes me,' remarked the lawyer with a meditative laugh, as



he lighted a cigar, 'it strikes me that you must be a cursed

nuisance in this world of ours.'



'Do you really think so, Finsbury?' responded the magistrate,

leaning back in his cushions, delighted with the compliment.



'Yes, I suppose I am a nuisance. But, mind you, I have a stake in

the country: don't forget that, dear boy.'



CHAPTER V

Mr Gideon Forsyth and the Gigantic Box



It has been mentioned that at Bournemouth Julia sometimes made

acquaintances; it is true she had but a glimpse of them before



the doors of John Street closed again upon its captives, but the

glimpse was sometimes exhilarating, and the consequent regret was



tempered with hope. Among those whom she had thus met a year

before was a young barrister of the name of Gideon Forsyth.



About three o'clock of the eventful day when the magistrate

tampered with the labels, a somewhat moody and distempered ramble



had carried Mr Forsyth to the corner of John Street; and about

the same moment Miss Hazeltine was called to the door of No. 16



by a thundering double knock.

Mr Gideon Forsyth was a happy enough young man; he would have






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