第142章
- The Art of Writing
- Robert Louis Stevenson
- 936字
- 2016-03-02 16:33:21
``I left my paternal mansion,'' he concluded, ``as if the furies of hell had driven me forth, and travelled with frantic velocity I knew not whither.Nor have I the slightest recollection of what I did or whither I went, until I was discovered by my brother.I will not trouble you with an account of my sick-bed and recovery, or how, long afterwards, I ventured to inquire after the sharer of my misfortunes, and heard that her despair had found a dreadful remedy for all the ills of life.The first thing that roused me to thought was hearing of your inquiries into this cruel business; and you will hardly wonder, that, believing what I did believe, I should join in those expedients to stop your investigation, which my brother and mother had actively commenced.The information which I gave them concerning the circumstances and witnesses of our private marriage enabled them to baffle your zeal.The clergyman, therefore, and witnesses, as persons who had acted in the matter only to please the powerful heir of Glenallan, were accessible to his promises and threats, and were so provided for, that they had no objections to leave this country for another.For myself, Mr.Oldbuck,''
pursued this unhappy man, ``from that moment I considered myself as blotted out of the book of the living, and as having nothing left to do with this world.My mother tried to reconcile me to life by every art--even by intimations which I can now interpret as calculated to produce a doubt of the horrible tale she herself had fabricated.But I construed all she said as the fictions of maternal affection.I will forbear all reproach.She is no more--and, as her wretched associate said, she knew not how the dart was poisoned, or how deep it must sink, when she threw it from her hand.But, Mr.Oldbuck, if ever, during these twenty years, there crawled upon earth a living being deserving of your pity, I have been that man.My food has not nourished me--my sleep has not refreshed me--my devotions have not comforted me--all that is cheering and necessary to man has been to me converted into poison.The rare and limited intercourse which I have held with others has been most odious to me.I felt as if I were bringing the contamination of unnatural and inexpressible guilt among the gay and the innocent.There have been moments when I had thoughts of another description --to plunge into the adventures of war, or to brave the dangers of the traveller in foreign and barbarous climates--to mingle in political intrigue, or to retire to the stern seclusion of the anchorites of our religion;--all these are thoughts which have alternately passed through my mind, but each required an energy, which was mine no longer, after the withering stroke I had received.I vegetated on as I could in the same spot--fancy, feeling, judgment, and health, gradually decaying, like a tree whose bark has been destroyed,--when first the blossoms fade, then the boughs, until its state resembles the decayed and dying trunk that is now before you.Do you now pity and forgive me?''
``My lord,'' answered the Antiquary, much affected, ``my pity--my forgiveness, you have not to ask, for your dismal story is of itself not only an ample excuse for whatever appeared mysterious in your conduct, but a narrative that might move your worst enemies (and I, my lord, was never of the number)to tears and to sympathy.But permit me to ask what you now mean to do, and why you have honoured me, whose opinion can be of little consequence, with your confidence on this occasion?''
``Mr.Oldbuck,'' answered the Earl, ``as I could never have foreseen the nature of that confession which I have heard this day, I need not say that I had no formed plan of consulting you, or any one, upon affairs the tendency of which I could not even have suspected.But I am without friends, unused to business, and, by long retirement, unacquainted alike with the laws of the land and the habits of the living generation; and when, most unexpectedly, I find myself immersed in the matters of which Iknow least, I catch, like a drowning man, at the first support that offers.You are that support, Mr.Oldbuck.I have always heard you mentioned as a man of wisdom and intelligence--Ihave known you myself as a man of a resolute and independent spirit;--and there is one circumstance,'' said he, ``which ought to combine us in some degree--our having paid tribute to the same excellence of character in poor Eveline.You offered yourself to me in my need, and you were already acquainted with the beginning of my misfortunes.To you, therefore, I have recourse for advice, for sympathy, for support.''
``You shall seek none of them in vain, my lord,'' said Oldbuck, ``so far as my slender ability extends;--and I am honoured by the preference, whether it arises from choice, or is prompted by chance.But this is a matter to be ripely considered.May Iask what are your principal views at present?''
``To ascertain the fate of my child,'' said the Earl, ``be the consequences what they may, and to do justice to the honour of Eveline, which I have only permitted to be suspected to avoid discovery of the yet more horrible taint to which I was made to believe it liable.''
``And the memory of your mother?''
``Must bear its own burden,'' answered the Earl with a sigh: