barnaby rudge(巴纳比·卢杰)-第19章
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day the deed was known； he bore upon his wrist what seemed a
smear of blood but half washed out。
‘God save you； neighbour！’ said the locksmith； as he followed
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her； with the air of an old friend； into a little parlour where a
cheerful fire was burning。
‘And you；’ she answered smiling。 ‘Your kind heart has brought
you here again。 Nothing will keep you at home； I know of old； if
there are friends to serve or comfort； out of doors。’
‘Tut； tut；’ returned the locksmith； rubbing his hands and
warming them。 ‘You women are such talkers。 What of the patient；
neighbour？’
‘He is sleeping now。 He was very restless towards daylight； and
for some hours tossed and tumbled sadly。 But the fever has left
him； and the doctor says he will soon mend。 He must not be
removed until to…morrow。’
‘He has had visitors to…day—humph？’ said Gabriel； slyly。
‘Yes。 Old Mr Chester has been here ever since we sent for him；
and had not been gone many minutes when you knocked。’
‘No ladies？’ said Gabriel； elevating his eyebrows and looking
disappointed。
‘A letter；’ replied the widow。
‘Come。 That’s better than nothing！’ replied the locksmith。 ‘Who
was the bearer？’
‘Barnaby； of course。’
‘Barnaby’s a jewel！’ said Varden； ‘and comes and goes with ease
where we who think ourselves much wiser would make but a poor
hand of it。 He is not out wandering； again； I hope？’
‘Thank Heaven he is in his bed； having been up all night； as you
know； and on his feet all day。 He was quite tired out。 Ah；
neighbour； if I could but see him oftener so—if I could but tame
down that terrible restlessness—’
‘In good time；’ said the locksmith； kindly； ‘in good time—don’t
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be down…hearted。 To my mind he grows wiser every day。’
The widow shook her head。 And yet； though she knew the
locksmith sought to cheer her； and spoke from no conviction of his
own； she was glad to hear even this praise of her poor benighted
son。
‘He will be a ’cute man yet；’ resumed the locksmith。 ‘Take care；
when we are growing old and foolish； Barnaby doesn’t put us to
the blush； that’s all。 But our other friend；’ he added； looking under
the table and about the floor—‘sharpest and cunningest of all the
sharp and cunning ones—where’s he？’
‘In Barnaby’s room；’ rejoined the widow； with a faint smile。
‘Ah！ He’s a knowing blade！’ said Varden； shaking his head。 ‘I
should be sorry to talk secrets before him。 Oh！ He’s a deep
customer。 I’ve no doubt he can read； and write； and cast accounts
if he chooses。 What was that？ Him tapping at the door？’
‘No；’ returned the widow。 ‘It was in the street； I think。 Hark！
Yes。 There again！ ’Tis some one knocking softly at the shutter。
Who can it be！’
They had been speaking in a low tone； for the invalid lay
overhead； and the walls and ceilings being thin and poorly built；
the sound of their voices might otherwise have disturbed his
slumber。 The party without； whoever it was； could have stood
close to the shutter without hearing anything spoken； and； seeing
the light through the chinks and finding all so quiet； might have
been persuaded that only one person was there。
‘Some thief or ruffian maybe；’ said the locksmith。 ‘Give me the
light。’
‘No； no；’ she returned hastily。 ‘Such visitors have never come to
this poor dwelling。 Do you stay here。 You’re within call； at the
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worst。 I would rather go myself—alone。’
‘Why？’ said the locksmith； unwillingly relinquishing the candle
he had caught up from the table。
‘Because—I don’t know why—because the wish is so strong
upon me；’ she rejoined。 ‘There again—do not detain me； I beg of
you！’
Gabriel looked at her； in great surprise to see one who was
usually so mild and quiet thus agitated； and with so little cause。
She left the room and closed the door behind her。 She stood for a
moment as if hesitating； with her hand upon the lock。 In this short
interval the knocking came again； and a voice close to the
window—a voice the locksmith seemed to recollect； and to have
some disagreeable association with—whispered ‘Make haste。’
The words were uttered in that low distinct voice which finds
its way so readily to sleepers’ ears； and wakes them in a fright。 For
a moment it startled even the locksmith； who involuntarily drew
back from the window； and listened。
The wind rumbling in the chimney made it difficult to hear
what passed； but he could tell that the door was opened； that there
was the tread of a man upon the creaking boards； and then a
moment’s silence—broken by a suppressed something which was
not a shriek； or groan； or cry for help； and yet might have been
either or all three； and the words ‘My God！’ uttered in a voice it
chilled him to hear。
He rushed out upon the instant。 There； at last； was that
dreadful look—the very one he seemed to know so well and yet
had never seen before—upon her face。 There she stood； frozen to
the ground； gazing with starting eyes； and livid cheeks； and every
feature fixed and ghastly； upon the man he had encountered in the
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dark last night。 His eyes met those of the locksmith。 It was but a
flash； an instant； a breath upon a polished glass； and he was gone。
The locksmith was upon him—had the skirts of his streaming
garment almost in his grasp—when his arms were tightly
clutched； and the widow flung herself upon the ground before
him。
‘The other way—the other way；’ she cried。 ‘He went the other
way。 Turn—turn！’
‘The other way！ I see him now；’ rejoined the locksmith；
pointing—‘yonder—there—there is his shadow passing by that
light。 What—who is this？ Let me go。’
‘Come back； come back！’ exclaimed the woman； clasping him；
‘Do not touch him on your life。 I charge you； come back。 He carries
other lives besides his own。 Come back！’
‘What does this mean？’ cried the locksmith。
‘No matter what it means； don’t ask； don’t speak； don’t think
about it。 He is not to be followed； checked； or stopped。 Come
back！’
The old man looked at her in wonder； as she writhed and clung
about him
