章节正文
"Hey, dad! Let me in. I am Harry, I am.
Straight! Come back home a day too soon."
One of the windows upstairs ran up.
"A grinning, information fellow," said the voice
of old Hagberd, up in the darkness. "Don't you
have anything to do with him. It will spoil every-
thing."
She heard Harry Hagberd say, "Hallo, dad,"
then a clanging clatter. The window rumbled
down, and he stood before her again.
"It's just like old times. Nearly walloped the
life out of me to stop me going away, and now I
come back he throws a confounded shovel at my
head to keep me out. It grazed my shoulder."
She shuddered.
"I wouldn't care," he began, "only I spent my
last shillings on the railway fare and my last two-
pence on a shave--out of respect for the old man."
"Are you really Harry Hagberd?" she asked.
"Can you prove it?"
"Can I prove it? Can any one else prove it?"
he said jovially. "Prove with what? What do I
want to prove? There isn't a single corner in the
world, barring England, perhaps, where you could
not find some man, or more likely woman, that
would remember me for Harry Hagberd. I am
more like Harry Hagberd than any man alive; and
I can prove it to you in a minute, if you will let me
step inside your gate."
"Come in," she said.
He entered then the front garden of the Carvils.
His tall shadow strode with a swagger; she turned
her back on the window and waited, watching the
shape, of which the footfalls seemed the most mate-
rial part. The light fell on a tilted hat; a power-
ful shoulder, that seemed to cleave the darkness;
on a leg stepping out. He swung about and stood
still, facing the illuminated parlour window at her
back, turning his head from side to side, laughing
softly to himself.
"Just fancy, for a minute, the old man's beard
stuck on to my chin. Hey? Now say. I was the
very spit of him from a boy."
"It's true," she murmured to herself.
"And that's about as far as it goes. He was al-
ways one of your domesticcharacters. Why, I re-
member how he used to go about looking very sick
for three days before he had to leave home on one
of his trips to South Shields for coal. He had a
standing charter from the gas-works. You would
think he was off on a whaling cruise--three years
and a tail. Ha, ha! Not a bit of it. Ten days on
the outside. The Skimmer of the Seas was a smart
craft. Fine name, wasn't it? Mother's uncle
owned her. . . ."
He interrupted himself, and in a lowered voice,
"Did he ever tell you what mother died of?" he
asked.
"Yes," said Miss Bessie, bitterly; "from impa-
tience."
He made no sound for a while; then brusquely:
"They were so afraid I would turn out badly that
they fairly drove me away. Mother nagged at me
for being idle, and the old man said he would cut
my soul out of my body rather than let me go to
sea. Well, it looked as if he would do it too--so I
went. It looks to me sometimes as if I had been
born to them by a mistake--in that other hutch of
a house."
"Where ought you to have been born by
rights?" Bessie Carvil interrupted him, defiantly.
"In the open, upon a beach, on a windy night,"
he said, quick as lightning. Then he mused slowly.
"They were characters, both of them, by George;
and the old man keeps it up well--don't he? A
damned shovel on the--Hark! who's that mak-
ing that row? 'Bessie, Bessie.' It's in your
house."
"It's for me," she said, with indifference.
He stepped aside, out of the streak of light.
"Your husband?" he inquired, with the tone of a
man accustomed to unlawful trysts. "Fine voice
for a ship's deck in a thundering squall."
"No; my father. I am not married."
"You seem a fine girl, Miss Bessie, dear," he said
at once.
She turned her face away.
"Oh, I say,--what's up? Who's murdering
him?"
"He wants his tea." She faced him, still and
tall, with averted head, with her hands hanging
clasped before her.
"Hadn't you better go in?" he suggested, after
watching for a while the nape of her neck, a patch
of dazzling white skin and soft shadow above the
sombre line of her shoulders. Her wrap had slipped
down to her elbows. "You'll have all the town
coming out presently. I'll wait here a bit."
Her wrap fell to the ground, and he stooped to
pick it up; she had vanished. He threw it over
his arm, and approaching the window squarely he
saw a monstrous form of a fat man in an arm-
chair, an unshaded lamp, the yawning of an enor-
mous mouth in a big flat face encircled by a ragged
halo of hair--Miss Bessie's head and bust. The
shouting stopped; the blind ran down. He lost
himself in thinking how awkward it was. Father
mad; no getting into the house. No money to get
back; a hungry chum in London who would begin
to think he had been given the go-by. "Damn!"
he muttered. He could break the door in, cer-
tainly; but they would perhaps bundle him into
chokey for that without asking questions--no great
matter, only he was confoundedly afraid of being
locked up, even in mistake. He turned cold at the
thought. He stamped his feet on the sod-
den grass.
"What are you?--a sailor?" said an agitated
voice.
She had flitted out, a shadow herself, attracted
by the reckless shadow waiting under the wall of
her home.
"Anything. Enough of a sailor to be worth
my salt before the mast. Came home that way this
time."
"Where do you come from?" she asked.
"Right away from a jolly good spree," he said,
"by the London train--see? Ough! I hate being
shut up in a train. I don't mind a house so
much."
"Ah," she said; "that's lucky."
"Because in a house you can at any time open
the blamed door and walk away straight before
you."
"And never come back?"
"Not for sixteen years at least," he laughed.
"To a rabbit hutch, and get a confounded old
shovel . . ."
"A ship is not so very big," she taunted.
"No, but the sea is great."
She dropped her head, and as if her ears had
been opened to the voices of the world, she heard,
beyond the rampart of sea-wall, the swell of yester-
day's gale breaking on the beach with monotonous
and solemn vibrations, as if all the earth had been
a tolling bell.
"And then, why, a ship's a ship. You love her
and leave her; and a voyage isn't a marriage." He
quoted the sailor's saying lightly.
"It is not a marriage," she whispered.
"I never took a false name, and I've never yet
told a lie to a woman. What lie? Why, THE lie--.
Take me or leave me, I say: and if you take me,
then it is . . ." He hummed a snatch very low,
leaning against the wall.
Oh, ho, ho Rio!
And fare thee well,
My bonnie young girl,
We're bound to Rio Grande
"Capstan song," he explained. Her teeth chat-
tered.
"You are cold," he said. "Here's that affair
of yours I picked up." She felt his hands about
her, wrapping her closely. "Hold the ends to-
gether in front," he commanded.
"What did you come here for?" she asked, re-
pressing a shudder.
"Five quid," he answered, promptly. "We let
our spree go on a little too long and got hard up."
"You've been drinking?" she said.
"Blind three days; on purpose. I am not given
that way--don't you think. There's nothing and
nobody that can get over me unless I like. I can
be as steady as a rock. My chum sees the paper
this morning, and says he to me: 'Go on, Harry:
loving parent. That's five quid sure.' So we
scraped all our pockets for the fare. Devil of a
lark!"
"You have a hard heart, I am afraid," she
sighed.
"What for? For running away? Why! he
wanted to make a lawyer's clerk of me--just to
please himself. Master in his own house; and my
poor mother egged him on--for my good, I sup-
pose. Well, then--so long; and I went. No, I
tell you: the day I cleared out, I was all black and
blue from his great fondness for me. Ah! he was
always a bit of a character. Look at that shovel
now. Off his chump? Not much. That's just
exactly like my dad. He wants me here just to
have somebody to order about. However, we two
were hard up; and what's five quid to him--once
in sixteen hard years?"
"Oh, but I am sorry for you. Did you never
want to come back home?"
"Be a lawyer's clerk and rot here--in some such
place as this?" he cried in contempt. "What! if
the old man set me up in a home to-day, I would
kick it down about my ears--or else die there be-
fore the third day was out."
"And where else is it that you hope to die?"
Straight! Come back home a day too soon."
One of the windows upstairs ran up.
"A grinning, information fellow," said the voice
of old Hagberd, up in the darkness. "Don't you
have anything to do with him. It will spoil every-
thing."
She heard Harry Hagberd say, "Hallo, dad,"
then a clanging clatter. The window rumbled
down, and he stood before her again.
"It's just like old times. Nearly walloped the
life out of me to stop me going away, and now I
come back he throws a confounded shovel at my
head to keep me out. It grazed my shoulder."
She shuddered.
"I wouldn't care," he began, "only I spent my
last shillings on the railway fare and my last two-
pence on a shave--out of respect for the old man."
"Are you really Harry Hagberd?" she asked.
"Can you prove it?"
"Can I prove it? Can any one else prove it?"
he said jovially. "Prove with what? What do I
want to prove? There isn't a single corner in the
world, barring England, perhaps, where you could
not find some man, or more likely woman, that
would remember me for Harry Hagberd. I am
more like Harry Hagberd than any man alive; and
I can prove it to you in a minute, if you will let me
step inside your gate."
"Come in," she said.
He entered then the front garden of the Carvils.
His tall shadow strode with a swagger; she turned
her back on the window and waited, watching the
shape, of which the footfalls seemed the most mate-
rial part. The light fell on a tilted hat; a power-
ful shoulder, that seemed to cleave the darkness;
on a leg stepping out. He swung about and stood
still, facing the illuminated parlour window at her
back, turning his head from side to side, laughing
softly to himself.
"Just fancy, for a minute, the old man's beard
stuck on to my chin. Hey? Now say. I was the
very spit of him from a boy."
"It's true," she murmured to herself.
"And that's about as far as it goes. He was al-
ways one of your domesticcharacters. Why, I re-
member how he used to go about looking very sick
for three days before he had to leave home on one
of his trips to South Shields for coal. He had a
standing charter from the gas-works. You would
think he was off on a whaling cruise--three years
and a tail. Ha, ha! Not a bit of it. Ten days on
the outside. The Skimmer of the Seas was a smart
craft. Fine name, wasn't it? Mother's uncle
owned her. . . ."
He interrupted himself, and in a lowered voice,
"Did he ever tell you what mother died of?" he
asked.
"Yes," said Miss Bessie, bitterly; "from impa-
tience."
He made no sound for a while; then brusquely:
"They were so afraid I would turn out badly that
they fairly drove me away. Mother nagged at me
for being idle, and the old man said he would cut
my soul out of my body rather than let me go to
sea. Well, it looked as if he would do it too--so I
went. It looks to me sometimes as if I had been
born to them by a mistake--in that other hutch of
a house."
"Where ought you to have been born by
rights?" Bessie Carvil interrupted him, defiantly.
"In the open, upon a beach, on a windy night,"
he said, quick as lightning. Then he mused slowly.
"They were characters, both of them, by George;
and the old man keeps it up well--don't he? A
damned shovel on the--Hark! who's that mak-
ing that row? 'Bessie, Bessie.' It's in your
house."
"It's for me," she said, with indifference.
He stepped aside, out of the streak of light.
"Your husband?" he inquired, with the tone of a
man accustomed to unlawful trysts. "Fine voice
for a ship's deck in a thundering squall."
"No; my father. I am not married."
"You seem a fine girl, Miss Bessie, dear," he said
at once.
She turned her face away.
"Oh, I say,--what's up? Who's murdering
him?"
"He wants his tea." She faced him, still and
tall, with averted head, with her hands hanging
clasped before her.
"Hadn't you better go in?" he suggested, after
watching for a while the nape of her neck, a patch
of dazzling white skin and soft shadow above the
sombre line of her shoulders. Her wrap had slipped
down to her elbows. "You'll have all the town
coming out presently. I'll wait here a bit."
Her wrap fell to the ground, and he stooped to
pick it up; she had vanished. He threw it over
his arm, and approaching the window squarely he
saw a monstrous form of a fat man in an arm-
chair, an unshaded lamp, the yawning of an enor-
mous mouth in a big flat face encircled by a ragged
halo of hair--Miss Bessie's head and bust. The
shouting stopped; the blind ran down. He lost
himself in thinking how awkward it was. Father
mad; no getting into the house. No money to get
back; a hungry chum in London who would begin
to think he had been given the go-by. "Damn!"
he muttered. He could break the door in, cer-
tainly; but they would perhaps bundle him into
chokey for that without asking questions--no great
matter, only he was confoundedly afraid of being
locked up, even in mistake. He turned cold at the
thought. He stamped his feet on the sod-
den grass.
"What are you?--a sailor?" said an agitated
voice.
She had flitted out, a shadow herself, attracted
by the reckless shadow waiting under the wall of
her home.
"Anything. Enough of a sailor to be worth
my salt before the mast. Came home that way this
time."
"Where do you come from?" she asked.
"Right away from a jolly good spree," he said,
"by the London train--see? Ough! I hate being
shut up in a train. I don't mind a house so
much."
"Ah," she said; "that's lucky."
"Because in a house you can at any time open
the blamed door and walk away straight before
you."
"And never come back?"
"Not for sixteen years at least," he laughed.
"To a rabbit hutch, and get a confounded old
shovel . . ."
"A ship is not so very big," she taunted.
"No, but the sea is great."
She dropped her head, and as if her ears had
been opened to the voices of the world, she heard,
beyond the rampart of sea-wall, the swell of yester-
day's gale breaking on the beach with monotonous
and solemn vibrations, as if all the earth had been
a tolling bell.
"And then, why, a ship's a ship. You love her
and leave her; and a voyage isn't a marriage." He
quoted the sailor's saying lightly.
"It is not a marriage," she whispered.
"I never took a false name, and I've never yet
told a lie to a woman. What lie? Why, THE lie--.
Take me or leave me, I say: and if you take me,
then it is . . ." He hummed a snatch very low,
leaning against the wall.
Oh, ho, ho Rio!
And fare thee well,
My bonnie young girl,
We're bound to Rio Grande
"Capstan song," he explained. Her teeth chat-
tered.
"You are cold," he said. "Here's that affair
of yours I picked up." She felt his hands about
her, wrapping her closely. "Hold the ends to-
gether in front," he commanded.
"What did you come here for?" she asked, re-
pressing a shudder.
"Five quid," he answered, promptly. "We let
our spree go on a little too long and got hard up."
"You've been drinking?" she said.
"Blind three days; on purpose. I am not given
that way--don't you think. There's nothing and
nobody that can get over me unless I like. I can
be as steady as a rock. My chum sees the paper
this morning, and says he to me: 'Go on, Harry:
loving parent. That's five quid sure.' So we
scraped all our pockets for the fare. Devil of a
lark!"
"You have a hard heart, I am afraid," she
sighed.
"What for? For running away? Why! he
wanted to make a lawyer's clerk of me--just to
please himself. Master in his own house; and my
poor mother egged him on--for my good, I sup-
pose. Well, then--so long; and I went. No, I
tell you: the day I cleared out, I was all black and
blue from his great fondness for me. Ah! he was
always a bit of a character. Look at that shovel
now. Off his chump? Not much. That's just
exactly like my dad. He wants me here just to
have somebody to order about. However, we two
were hard up; and what's five quid to him--once
in sixteen hard years?"
"Oh, but I am sorry for you. Did you never
want to come back home?"
"Be a lawyer's clerk and rot here--in some such
place as this?" he cried in contempt. "What! if
the old man set me up in a home to-day, I would
kick it down about my ears--or else die there be-
fore the third day was out."
"And where else is it that you hope to die?"
- domestic [də´mestik]
a.家庭的；本国的 (初中英语单词) - charter [´tʃɑ:tə] n.许可证 vt.特许 (初中英语单词)
- bitterly [´bitəli] ad.悲痛地；憎恨地 (初中英语单词)
- lightning [´laitniŋ] n.闪电 a.突然的 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- bundle [´bʌndl] n.包，捆；包袱(裹) (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- rabbit [´ræbit] n.兔子，野兔 (初中英语单词)
- solemn [´sɔləm] a.严肃的；隆重的 (初中英语单词)
- voyage [´vɔi-idʒ] n.&vi.航海；航程；旅行 (初中英语单词)
- snatch [snætʃ] v.&n.抢，夺取，抓住 (初中英语单词)
- promptly [´prɔmptli] ad.敏捷地；即时地 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- clatter [´klætə] n.&v.喧嚷；骚动 (高中英语单词)
- shovel [´ʃʌvəl] n.铲子；铁锹 (高中英语单词)
- strode [strəud] stride的过去式 (高中英语单词)
- streak [stri:k] n.纹理 v.用线条(条纹) (高中英语单词)
- monstrous [´mɔnstrəs] a.怪异的；庞大的 (高中英语单词)
- awkward [´ɔ:kwəd] a.笨拙的；为难的 (高中英语单词)
- reckless [´rekləs] a.不注意的；鲁莽的 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- contempt [kən´tempt] n.轻蔑；受辱；不顾 (高中英语单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- cleave [kli:v] v.劈(开) vi.粘住；依恋 (英语四级单词)
- squarely [´skwɛəli] ad.成方形地；正直地 (英语四级单词)
- rampart [´ræmpɑ:t] n.壁垒 vt.防护 (英语六级单词)
- wrapping [´ræpiŋ] n.包装材料 (英语六级单词)
- fondness [´fɔndnis] n.蠢事；溺爱；嗜好 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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