tales and fantasies- 第6部分

the　derided　fugitive。



The　time　began　to　draw　near　when　his　father　would　have

returned　from　the　office；　and　it　would　be　the　prodigal's　cue

to　enter。　　He　strolled　westward　by　Albany　Street；　facing　the

sunset　embers；　pleased；　he　knew　not　why；　to　move　in　that　cold

air　and　indigo　twilight；　starred　with　street…lamps。　　But

there　was　one　more　disenchantment　waiting　him　by　the　way。



At　the　corner　of　Pitt　Street　he　paused　to　light　a　fresh

cigar；　the　vesta　threw；　as　he　did　so；　a　strong　light　upon　his

features；　and　a　man　of　about　his　own　age　stopped　at　sight　of

it。



'I　think　your　name　must　be　Nicholson；'　said　the　stranger。



It　was　too　late　to　avoid　recognition；　and　besides；　as　John

was　now　actually　on　the　way　home；　it　hardly　mattered；　and　he

gave　way　to　the　impulse　of　his　nature。



'Great　Scott！'　he　cried；　'Beatson！'　and　shook　hands　with

warmth。　　It　scarce　seemed　he　was　repaid　in　kind。



'So　you're　home　again？'　said　Beatson。　　'Where　have　you　been

all　this　long　time？'



'In　the　States；'　said　John　…　'California。　　I've　made　my　pile

though；　and　it　suddenly　struck　me　it　would　be　a　noble　scheme

to　come　home　for　Christmas。'



'I　see；'　said　Beatson。　　'Well；　I　hope　we'll　see　something　of

you　now　you're　here。'



'Oh；　I　guess　so；'　said　John；　a　little　frozen。



'Well；　ta…ta；'　concluded　Beatson；　and　he　shook　hands　again

and　went。



This　was　a　cruel　first　experience。　　It　was　idle　to　blink

facts：　here　was　John　home　again；　and　Beatson　…　Old　Beatson　…

did　not　care　a　rush。　　He　recalled　Old　Beatson　in　the　past　…

that　merry　and　affectionate　lad　…　and　their　joint　adventures

and　mishaps；　the　window　they　had　broken　with　a　catapult　in

India　Place；　the　escalade　of　the　castle　rock；　and　many

another　inestimable　bond　of　friendship；　and　his　hurt　surprise

grew　deeper。　　Well；　after　all；　it　was　only　on　a　man's　own

family　that　he　could　count；　blood　was　thicker　than　water；　he

remembered；　and　the　net　result　of　this　encounter　was　to　bring

him　to　the　doorstep　of　his　father's　house；　with　tenderer　and

softer　feelings。



The　night　had　come；　the　fanlight　over　the　door　shone　bright；

the　two　windows　of　the　dining…room　where　the　cloth　was　being

laid；　and　the　three　windows　of　the　drawing…room　where　Maria

would　be　waiting　dinner；　glowed　softlier　through　yellow

blinds。　　It　was　like　a　vision　of　the　past。　　All　this　time　of

his　absence　life　had　gone　forward　with　an　equal　foot；　and　the

fires　and　the　gas　had　been　lighted；　and　the　meals　spread；　at

the　accustomed　hours。　　At　the　accustomed　hour；　too；　the　bell

had　sounded　thrice　to　call　the　family　to　worship。　　And　at　the

thought；　a　pang　of　regret　for　his　demerit　seized　him；　he

remembered　the　things　that　were　good　and　that　he　had

neglected；　and　the　things　that　were　evil　and　that　he　had

loved；　and　it　was　with　a　prayer　upon　his　lips　that　he　mounted

the　steps　and　thrust　the　key　into　the　key…hole。



He　stepped　into　the　lighted　hall；　shut　the　door　softly　behind

him；　and　stood　there　fixed　in　wonder。　　No　surprise　of

strangeness　could　equal　the　surprise　of　that　complete

familiarity。　　There　was　the　bust　of　Chalmers　near　the　stair…

railings；　there　was　the　clothes…brush　in　the　accustomed

place；　and　there；　on　the　hat…stand；　hung　hats　and　coats　that

must　surely　be　the　same　as　he　remembered。　　Ten　years　dropped

from　his　life；　as　a　pin　may　slip　between　the　fingers；　and　the

ocean　and　the　mountains；　and　the　mines；　and　crowded　marts　and

mingled　races　of　San　Francisco；　and　his　own　fortune　and　his

own　disgrace；　became；　for　that　one　moment；　the　figures　of　a

dream　that　was　over。



He　took　off　his　hat；　and　moved　mechanically　toward　the　stand；

and　there　he　found　a　small　change　that　was　a　great　one　to

him。　　The　pin　that　had　been　his　from　boyhood；　where　he　had

flung　his　balmoral　when　he　loitered　home　from　the　Academy；

and　his　first　hat　when　he　came　briskly　back　from　college　or

the　office　…　his　pin　was　occupied。　　'They　might　have　at　least

respected　my　pin！'　he　thought；　and　he　was　moved　as　by　a

slight；　and　began　at　once　to　recollect　that　he　was　here　an

interloper；　in　a　strange　house；　which　he　had　entered　almost

by　a　burglary；　and　where　at　any　moment　he　might　be

scandalously　challenged。



He　moved　at　once；　his　hat　still　in　his　hand；　to　the　door　of

his　father's　room；　opened　it；　and　entered。　　Mr。　Nicholson　sat

in　the　same　place　and　posture　as　on　that　last　Sunday　morning；

only　he　was　older；　and　greyer；　and　sterner；　and　as　he　now

glanced　up　and　caught　the　eye　of　his　son；　a　strange　commotion

and　a　dark　flush　sprung　into　his　face。



'Father；'　said　John；　steadily；　and　even　cheerfully；　for　this

was　a　moment　against　which　he　was　long　ago　prepared；　'father；

here　I　am；　and　here　is　the　money　that　I　took　from　you。　　I

have　come　back　to　ask　your　forgiveness；　and　to　stay　Christmas

with　you　and　the　children。'



'Keep　your　money；'　said　the　father；　'and　go！'



'Father！'　cried　John；　'for　God's　sake　don't　receive　me　this

way。　　I've　come　for　…　'



'Understand　me；'　interrupted　Mr。　Nicholson；　'you　are　no　son

of　mine；　and　in　the　sight　of　God；　I　wash　my　hands　of　you。

One　last　thing　I　will　tell　you；　one　warning　I　will　give　you；

all　is　discovered；　and　you　are　being　hunted　for　your　crimes；

if　you　are　still　at　large　it　is　thanks　to　me；　but　I　have　done

all　that　I　mean　to　do；　and　from　this　time　forth　I　would　not

raise　one　finger　…　not　one　finger　…　to　save　you　from　the

gallows！　　And　now；'　with　a　low　voice　of　absolute　authority；

and　a　single　weighty　gesture　of　the　finger；　'and　now　…　go！'







CHAPTER　VI　…　THE　HOUSE　AT　MURRAYFIELD







How　John　passed　the　evening；　in　what　windy　confusion　of　mind；

in　what　squalls　of　anger　and　lulls　of　sick　collapse；　in　what

pacing　of　streets　and　plunging　into　public…houses；　it　would

profit　little　to　relate。　　His　misery；　if　it　were　not

progressive；　yet　tended　in　no　way　to　diminish；　for　in

proportion　as　grief　and　indignation　abated；　fear　began　to

take　their　place。　　At　first；　his　father's　menacing　words　lay

by　in　some　safe　drawer　of　memory；　biding　their　hour。　　At

first；　John　was　all　thwarted　affection　and　blighted　hope；

next　bludgeoned　vanity　raised　its　head　again；　with　twenty

mortal　gashes：　and　the　father　was　disowned　even　as　he　had

disowned　the　son。　　What　was　this　regular　course　of　life；　that

John　should　have　admired　it？　what　were　these　clock…work

virtues；　from　which　love　was　absent？　　Kindness　was　the　test；

kindness　the　aim　and　soul；　and　judged　by　such　a　standard；　the

discarded　prodigal　…　now　rapidly　drowning　his　sorrows　and　his

reason　in　successive　drams　…　was　a　creature　of　a　lovelier

morality　than　his　self…righteous　father。　　Yes；　he　was　the

better　man；　he　felt　it；　glowed　with　the　consciousness；　and

entering　a　public…house　at　the　corner　of　Howard　Place

（whither　he　had　somehow　wandered）　he　pledged　his　own　virtues

in　a　glass　…　perhaps　the　fourth　since　his　dismissal。　　Of　that

he　knew　nothing；　keeping　no　account　of　what　he　did　or　where

he　went；　and　in　the　general　crashing　hurry　of　his　nerves；

unconscious　of　the　approach　of　intoxication。　　Indeed；　it　is　a

question　whether　he　were　really　growing　intoxicated；　or

whether　at　first　the　spirits　did　not　even　sober　him。　　For　it

was　even　as　he　drained　this　last　glass　that　his　father's

ambiguous　and　menacing　words　…　popping　from　their　hiding…

place　in　memory　…　startled　him　like　a　hand　laid　upon　his

shoulder。　　'Crimes；　hunted；　the　gallows。'　　They　were　ugly

words；　in　the　ears　of　an　innocent　man；　perhaps　all　the

uglier；　for　if　some　judicial　error　were　in　act　against　him；

who　should　set　a　limit　to　its　grossness　or　to　how　far　it

might　be　pushed？　　Not　John；　indeed；　he　was　no　believer　in　the

powers　of　innocence；　his　cursed　experience　pointing　in　quite

other　ways；　and　his　fears；　once　wakened；　grew　with　every　hour

and　hunted　him　about　the　city　streets。



It　was；　perhaps；　nearly　nine　at　night；　he　had　eaten　nothing

since　lunch；　he　had　drunk　a　good　deal；　and　he　was　exhausted

by　emotion；　when　the　thought　of　Houston　came　into　his　head。

He　turned；　not　merely　to　the　man　as　a　friend；　but　to　his

house　as　a　place　of　refuge。　　The　danger　that　threatened　him

was　still　so　vague　that　he　knew　neither　what　to　fear　nor

where　he　might　expect　it；　but　this　much　at　least　seemed

undeniable；　that　a　private　house　was　safer　than　a　public　inn。

Moved　by　these　counsels；　he　turned　at　once　to　the　Caledonian

Station；　passed　（not　without　alarm）　into　the　bright　lights　of

the　approach；　redeemed　his　portmanteau　from　the　cloak…room；

and　was　soon　whirling　in　a　cab　along　the　Glasgow　Road。　　The

change　of　movement　and　position；　the　sight　of　the　lamps

twinkling　to　the　rear；　and　the　smell　of　damp　and　mould　and

rotten　straw　which　clung　about　the　vehicle；　wrought　in　him

strange　alternations　of　lucidity　and　mortal　giddiness。



'I　have　been　drinking；'　he　discovered；　'I　must　go　straight　to

bed；　and　sleep。'　　And　he　thanked　Heaven　for　the　drowsiness

that　came　upon　his　mind　in　waves。



From　one　of　these　spells　he　was　wakened　by　the　stoppage　of

the　cab；　and；　getting　down；　found　himself　in　quite　a　country

road；　the　last　lamp　of　the　suburb　shining　some　way　below；　and

the　high　walls　of　a　garden　rising　before　him　in　the　dark。

The　Lodge　（as　the　place　was　named）；　stood；　indeed；　very

solitary。　　To　the　south　it　adjoined　another　house；　but

standing　in　so　large　a　garden　as　to　be　well　out　of　cry；　on

all　other　sides；　open　fields　stretched　upward　to　the　woods　of

Corstorphine　Hill；　or　backward　to　the　dells　of　Ravelston；　or

downward　toward　the　valley　of　the　Leith。　　The　effect　of

seclusion　was　aided　by　the　great　height　of　the　garden　walls；

which　were；　indeed；　conventual；　and；　as　John　had　tested　in

former　days；　defied　the　climbing　schoolboy。　　The　lamp　of　the

cab　threw　a　gleam　upon　the　door　and　the　not　brilliant　handle

of　the　bell。



'Shall　I　ring　for　ye？'　said　the　cabman；　who　had　descended

from　his　perch；　and　was　slapping　his　chest；　for　the　night　was

bitte