第 11 节
作者:随便看看      更新:2022-07-12 16:23      字数:9321
  ghastly  impression   of   it   on   his   mind。  He   drew   the   curtain   very  gently;
  and sighed involuntarily as he closed it。            'Poor fellow;' he said; almost as
  sadly as if he had known the man。            'Ah; poor fellow!'
  He went next to the window。            The night was black; and he could see
  nothing   from   it。    The   rain   still   pattered   heavily   against   the   glass。 He
  inferred; from hearing it; that the window was at the back of the house;
  remembering   that   the   front   was   sheltered   from  the   weather by  the   court
  and the buildings over it。
  While he was still standing at the window … for even the dreary rain
  was a relief; because of the sound it made; a relief; also; because it moved;
  and had some faint suggestion; in consequence; of life and companionship
  in it … while he was standing at the window; and looking vacantly into the
  black darkness outside; he heard a distant church…clock strike ten。                   Only
  ten!    How     was   he   to  pass   the  time   till   the  house  was   astir  the   next
  morning?
  Under   any   other     circumstances;   he     would    have   gone    down    to  the
  public…house   parlour;   would   have   called   for   his   grog;   and   would   have
  laughed and talked with the company assembled as familiarly as if he had
  known them all his life。        But the very thought of whiling away the time in
  this manner was distasteful to him。             The new situation in which he was
  placed seemed to have altered him to himself already。                  Thus far; his life
  had been the common; trifling; prosaic; surface…life of a prosperous young
  man; with no troubles to conquer; and no trials to face。                 He had lost no
  relation   whom   he   loved;   no   friend   whom   he   treasured。      Till   this   night;
  what share he had of the immortal inheritance that is divided amongst us
  all; had laid dormant within him。            Till this night; Death and he had not
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  once met; even in thought。
  He took a few turns up and down the room … then stopped。                   The noise
  made   by   his   boots   on   the   poorly   carpeted   floor;   jarred   on   his   ear。   He
  hesitated     a  little;  and   ended    by   taking    the   boots   off;   and   walking
  backwards and forwards noiselessly。             All desire to sleep or to rest had left
  him。     The   bare   thought   of   lying   down   on   the   unoccupied   bed   instantly
  drew the picture on his mind of a dreadful mimicry of the position of the
  dead man。       Who was he?         What was the story of his past life?          Poor he
  must have been; or he would not have stopped at such a place as The Two
  Robins Inn … and weakened; probably; by long illness; or he could hardly
  have died in the manner in which the landlord had described。                     Poor; ill;
  lonely; … dead in a strange place; dead; with nobody but a stranger to pity
  him。    A sad story:      truly; on the mere face of it; a very sad story。
  While these thoughts were passing through his mind; he had stopped
  insensibly at the window; close to which stood the foot of the bed with the
  closed     curtains。    At    first  he  looked    at  it  absently;    then   he   became
  conscious that his eyes were fixed on it; and then; a perverse desire took
  possession of him to do the very thing which he had resolved not to do; up
  to this time … to look at the dead man。
  He stretched out his hand towards the curtains; but checked himself in
  the very act of undrawing them; turned his back sharply on the bed; and
  walked towards the chimney…piece; to see what things were placed on it;
  and to try if he could keep the dead man out of his mind in that way。
  There     was    a  pewter    inkstand     on   the  chimney…piece;       with    some
  mildewed   remains   of   ink   in   the   bottle。    There   were   two   coarse   china
  ornaments   of   the   commonest   kind;   and   there   was   a   square   of   embossed
  card; dirty and fly…blown; with a collection of wretched riddles printed on
  it; in all sorts of zig…zag directions; and in variously coloured inks。                 He
  took the card; and went away; to read it; to the table on which the candle
  was placed; sitting down; with his back resolutely turned to the curtained
  bed。
  He read the first riddle; the second; the third; all in one corner of the
  card … then turned it round impatiently to look at another。 Before he could
  begin    reading    the  riddles   printed    here;  the   sound   of   the  church…clock
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  stopped him。       Eleven。      He   had got   through  an hour of   the time;  in   the
  room with the dead man。
  Once   more   he   looked   at   the   card。  It   was   not   easy   to   make   out   the
  letters printed on it; in consequence of the dimness of the light which the
  landlord had left him … a common tallow candle; furnished with a pair of
  heavy  old…fashioned   steel   snuffers。       Up   to   this   time;  his   mind   had  been
  too much occupied to think of the light。 He had left the wick of the candle
  unsnuffed; till it had risen higher than the flame; and had burnt into an odd
  pent…house shape at the top; from which morsels of the charred cotton fell
  off; from time to time; in little flakes。         He took up the snuffers now; and
  trimmed the wick。         The light   brightened directly; and   the room  became
  less dismal。
  Again he turned to the riddles; reading them doggedly and resolutely;
  now in one corner of the card; now in another。               All his efforts; however;
  could     not   fix  his   attention    on   them。     He     pursued    his   occupation
  mechanically;  deriving no   sort of   impression  from  what   he   was   reading。
  It was as if a shadow from the curtained bed had got between his mind and
  the gaily printed letters … a shadow that nothing could dispel。                At last; he
  gave up the struggle; and threw the card from him impatiently; and took to
  walking softly up and down the room again。
  The   dead   man;   the   dead   man;   the   HIDDEN   dead   man   on   the   bed!
  There was the  one persistent   idea still haunting him。              Hidden?      Was   it
  only the body being there; or was it the body being there; concealed; that
  was preying on his mind?           He stopped at the window; with that doubt in
  him; once more listening to the pattering rain; once more looking out into
  the black darkness。
  Still the dead man!        The darkness forced his mind back upon itself;
  and set his memory at work; reviving; with a painfully…vivid distinctness
  the momentary impression it had received from the first sight of the corpse。
  Before   long   the   face   seemed   to   be   hovering   out   in   the   middle   of   the
  darkness; confronting him through the window; with the paleness whiter;
  with the dreadful dull line of light between the imperfectly…closed eyelids
  broader than he had seen it … with the parted lips slowly dropping farther
  and farther away from each other … with the features growing larger and
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  moving closer; till they seemed to fill the window and to silence the rain;
  and to shut out the night。
  The sound of a voice; shouting below…stairs; woke him suddenly from
  the dream of his own distempered fancy。               He recognised it as the voice of
  the landlord。      'Shut up at twelve; Ben;' he heard it say。 'I'm off to bed。'
  He wiped away the damp that had gathered on his forehead; reasoned
  with himself for a little while; and resolved to shake his mind free of the
  ghastly counterfeit which still clung to it; by forcing himself to confront; if
  it was only for a moment; the solemn reality。                Without allowing himself
  an   instant   to   hesitate;   he   parted   the   curtains   at   the   foot   of   the   bed;   and
  looked through。
  There   was   a   sad;   peaceful;   white   face;   with   the   awful   mystery   of
  stillness on it; laid back upon the pillow。            No stir; no change there!         He
  only looked at it for a moment before he closed the curtains again … but
  that moment steadied him; calmed him; restored him … mind and body … to
  himself。
  He returned to his old occupation of walking up and down the room;
  persevering in it; this time; till the clock struck again。           Twelve。
  As   the   sound   of