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第8章

a far country-第8章

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had; indeed; put into me an awful fear。  The greatest horror of my boyish
imagination was a wicked man。  Was I; as he had declared; utterly
depraved and doomed in spite of myself to be one?

There came a knock at my doorElla with my supper。  I refused to open;
and sent her away; to fall on my knees in the darkness and pray wildly to
a God whose attributes and character were sufficiently confused in my
mind。  On the one hand was the stern; despotic Monarch of the Westminster
Catechism; whom I addressed out of habit; the Father who condemned a
portion of his children from the cradle。  Was I one of those who he had
decreed before I was born must suffer the tortures of the flames of hell?
Putting two and two together; what I had learned in Sunday school and
gathered from parts of Dr。 Pound's sermons; and the intimation of my
father that wickedness was within me; like an incurable disease;was not
mine the logical conclusion?  What; then; was the use of praying?。。。  My
supplications ceased abruptly。  And my ever ready imagination; stirred to
its depths; beheld that awful scene of the last day: the darkness; such
as sometimes creeps over the city in winter; when the jaundiced smoke
falls down and we read at noonday by gas…light。  I beheld the tortured
faces of the wicked gathered on the one side; and my mother on the other
amongst the blessed; gazing across the gulf at me with yearning and
compassion。  Strange that it did not strike me that the sight of the
condemned whom they had loved in life would have marred if not destroyed
the happiness of the chosen; about to receive their crowns and harps!
What a theologythat made the Creator and Preserver of all mankind thus
illogical!




III。

Although I was imaginative; I was not morbidly introspective; and by the
end of the first day of my incarceration my interest in that solution had
waned。  At times; however; I actually yearned for someone in whom I could
confide; who could suggest a solution。  I repeat; I would not for worlds
have asked my father or my mother or Dr。 Pound; of whom I had a wholesome
fear; or perhaps an unwholesome one。  Except at morning Bible reading and
at church my parents never mentioned the name of the Deity; save to
instruct me formally。  Intended or no; the effect of my religious
training was to make me ashamed of discussing spiritual matters; and
naturally I failed to perceive that this was because it laid its emphasis
on personal salvation。。。。  I did not; however; become an unbeliever; for
I was not of a nature to contemplate with equanimity a godless
universe。。。。

My sufferings during these series of afternoon confinements did not come
from remorse; but were the result of a vague sense of injury; and their
effect was to generate within me a strange motive power; a desire to do
something that would astound my father and eventually wring from him the
confession that he had misjudged me。  To be sure; I should have to wait
until early manhood; at least; for the accomplishment of such a coup。
Might it not be that I was an embryonic literary genius?  Many were the
books I began in this ecstasy of self…vindication; only to abandon them
when my confinement came to an end。

It was about this time; I think; that I experienced one of those shocks
which have a permanent effect upon character。  It was then the custom for
ladies to spend the day with one another; bringing their sewing; and
sometimes; when I unexpectedly entered the sitting…room; the voices of my
mother's visitors would drop to a whisper。  One afternoon I returned from
school to pause at the head of the stairs。  Cousin Bertha Ewan and Mrs。
McAlery were discussing with my mother an affair that I judged from the
awed tone in which they spoke might prove interesting。

〃Poor Grace;〃 Mrs。 McAlery was saying; 〃I imagine she's paid a heavy
penalty。  No man alive will be faithful under those circumstances。〃

I stopped at the head of the stairs; with a delicious; guilty feeling。

〃Have they ever heard of her?〃 Cousin Bertha asked。

〃It is thought they went to Spain;〃 replied Mrs。 McAlery; solemnly; yet
not without a certain zest。  〃Mr。 Jules Hollister will not have her name
mentioned in his presence; you know。  And Whitcomb chased them as far as
New York with a horse…pistol in his pocket。  The report is that he got to
the dock just as the ship sailed。  And then; you know; he went to live
somewhere out West;in Iowa; I believe。〃

〃Did he ever get a divorce?〃 Cousin Bertha inquired。

〃He was too good a church member; my dear;〃 my mother reminded her。

〃Well; I'd have got one quick enough; church member or no church member;〃
declared Cousin Bertha; who had in her elements of daring。

〃Not that I mean for a moment to excuse her;〃 Mrs。 McAlery put in; 〃but
Edward Whitcomb did have a frightful temper; and he was awfully strict
with her; and he was old enough; anyhow; to be her father。  Grace
Hollister was the last woman in the world I should have suspected of
doing so hideous a thing。  She was so sweet and simple。〃

〃Jennings was very attractive;〃 said my Cousin Bertha。  〃I don't think I
ever saw a handsomer man。  Now; if he had looked at me〃

The sentence was never finished; for at this crucial moment I dropped a
grammar。。。。

I had heard enough; however; to excite my curiosity to the highest pitch。
And that evening; when I came in at five o'clock to study; I asked my
mother what had become of Gene Hollister's aunt。

〃She went away; Hugh;〃 replied my mother; looking greatly troubled。

〃Why?〃 I persisted。

〃It is something you are too young to understand。〃

Of course I started an investigation; and the next day at school I asked
the question of Gene Hollister himself; only to discover that he believed
his aunt to be dead!  And that night he asked his mother if his Aunt
Grace were really alive; after all?  Whereupon complications and
explanations ensued between our parents; of which we saw only the surface
signs。。。。  My father accused me of eavesdropping (which I denied); and
sentenced me to an afternoon of solitary confinement for repeating
something which I had heard in private。  I have reason to believe that my
mother was also reprimanded。

It must not be supposed that I permitted the matter to rest。  In addition
to Grits Jarvis; there was another contraband among my acquaintances;
namely; Alec Pound; the scrape…grace son of the Reverend Doctor Pound。
Alec had an encyclopaedic mind; especially well stocked with the kind of
knowledge I now desired; first and last he taught me much; which I would
better have got in another way。  To him I appealed and got the story; my
worst suspicions being confirmed。  Mrs。 Whitcomb's house had been across
the alley from that of Mr。 Jennings; but no one knew that anything was
〃going on;〃 though there had been signals from the windowsthe
neighbours afterwards remembered。。。。

I listened shudderingly。

〃But;〃 I cried; 〃they were both married!〃

〃What difference does that make when you love a woman?〃 Alec replied
grandly。  〃I could tell you much worse things than that。〃

This he proceeded to do。  Fascinated; I listened with a sickening
sensation。  It was a mild afternoon in spring; and we stood in the deep
limestone gutter in front of the parsonage; a little Gothic wooden house
set in a gloomy yard。

〃I thought;〃 said I; 〃that people couldn't love any more after they were
married; except each other。〃

Alec looked at me pityingly。

〃You'll get over that notion;〃 he assured me。

Thus another ingredient entered my character。  Denied its food at home;
good food; my soul eagerly consumed and made part of itself the
fermenting stuff that Alec Pound so willing distributed。  And it was
fermenting stuff。  Let us see what it did to me。  Working slowly but
surely; it changed for me the dawning mystery of sex into an evil instead
of a holy one。  The knowledge of the tragedy of Grace Hollister started
me to seeking restlessly; on bookshelves and elsewhere; for a secret that
forever eluded me; and forever led me on。  The word fermenting aptly
describes the process begun; suggesting as it does something closed up;
away from air and sunlight; continually working 

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