《嘉莉妹妹》旅行的安慰：漂泊的小船
To the untravelled, territory other than their own familiar heath is invariably fascinating. Next to love, it is the one thing which solaces and delights. Things new are too important to be neglected, and mind, which is a mere reflection of sensory impressions, succumbs to the flood of objects. Thus lovers are forgotten, sorrows laid aside, death hidden from view. There is a world of accumulated feeling back of the trite dramatic expression -- "I am going away."
As Carrie looked out upon the flying scenery she almost forgot that she had been tricked into this long journey against her will and that she was without the necessary apparel for travelling. She quite forgot Hurstwood's presence at times, and looked away to homely farmhouses and cosey cottages in villages with wondering eyes. It was an interesting world to her. Her life had just begun. She did not feel herself defeated at all. Neither was she blasted in hope. The great city held much. Possibly she would come out of bondage into freedom -- who knows? Perhaps she would be happy. These thoughts raised her above the level of erring. She was saved in that she was hopeful.
The following morning the train pulled safely into Montreal and they stepped down, Hurstwood glad to be out of danger, Carrie wondering at the novel atmosphere of the northern city. Long before, Hurstwood had been here, and now he remembered the name of the hotel at which he had stopped. As they came out of the main entrance of the depot he heard it called anew by a busman.
"We'll go right up and get rooms," he said.
At the clerk's office Hurstwood swung the register about while the clerk came forward. He was thinking what name he would put down. With the latter before him he found no time for hesitation. A name he had seen out of the car window came swiftly to him. It was pleasing enough. With an easy hand he wrote, "G. W. Murdock and wife." It was the largest concession to necessity he felt like making. His initials he could not spare.
When they were shown their room Carrie saw at once that he had secured her a lovely chamber.
"You have a bath there," said he. "Now you can clean up when you are ready."
Carrie went over and looked out the window, while Hurstwood looked at himself in the glass. He felt dusty and unclean. He had no trunk, no change of linen, not even a hair-brush.
"I'll ring for soap and towels," he said, "and send you up a hair-brush. Then you can bathe and get ready for breakfast. I'll go for a shave and come back and get you, and then we'll go out and look for some clothes for you."
He smiled good-naturedly as he said this.
"All right," said Carrie.
She sat down in one of the rocking-chairs, while Hurstwood waited for the boy, who soon knocked.
"Soap, towels, and a pitcher of ice-water."
"Yes, sir."
"I'll go now," he said to Carrie, coming toward her and holding out his hands, but she did not move to take them.
"You're not mad at me, are you?" he asked softly.
"Oh, no！" she answered, rather indifferently.
"Don't you care for me at all?"
She made no answer, but looked steadily toward the window.
"Don't you think you could love me a little?" he pleaded, taking one of her hands, which she endeavoured to draw away. "You once said you did."
"What made you deceive me so?" asked Carrie.
"I couldn't help it," he said, "I wanted you too much."
"You didn't have any right to want me," she answered, striking cleanly home.
"Oh, well, Carrie," he answered, "here I am. It's too late now. Won't you try and care for me a little?"
He looked rather worsted in thought as he stood before her.
She shook her head negatively.
"Let me start all over again. Be my wife from today on."
Carrie rose up as if to step away, he holding her hand. Now he slipped his arm about her and she struggled, but in vain. He held her quite close. Instantly there flamed up in his body the all-compelling desire. His affection took an ardent form.
"Let me go," said Carrie, who was folded close to him.
"Won't you love me?" he said. "Won't you be mine from now on?"
Carrie had never been ill-disposed toward him. Only a moment before she had been listening with some complacency, remembering her old affection for him. He was so handsome, so daring！
Now, however, this feeling had changed to one of opposition, which rose feebly. It mastered her for a moment, and then, held close as she was, began to wane. Something else in her spoke. This man, to whose bosom she was being pressed, was strong; he was passionate, he loved her, and she was alone. If she did not turn to him -- accept of his love -- where else might she go? Her resistance half dissolved in the flood of his strong feeling.
She found him lifting her head and looking into her eyes. What magnetism there was she could never know. His many sins, however, were for the moment all forgotten.
He pressed her closer and kissed her, and she felt that further opposition was useless.
"Will you marry me?" she asked, forgetting how.
"This very day," he said, with all delight.
Now the hall-boy pounded on the door and he released his hold upon her regretfully.
"You get ready now, will you," he said, "at once?"
"Yes," she answered.
"I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour."
Carrie, flushed and excited, moved away as he admitted the boy.
Below stairs, he halted in the lobby to look for a barber shop. For the moment, he was in fine feather. His recent victory over Carrie seemed to atone for much he had endured during the last few days. Life seemed worth fighting for. This eastward flight from all things customary and attached seemed as if it might have happiness in store. The storm showed a rainbow at the end of which might be a pot of gold.
He was about to cross to a little red-and-white striped bar which was fastened up beside a door when a voice greeted him familiarly. Instantly his heart sank.
"Why, hello, George, old man！" said the voice. "What are you doing down here?"
Hurstwood was already confronted, and recognised his friend Kenny, the stock-broker.
"Just attending to a little private matter," he answered, his mind working like a key-board of a telephone station. This man evidently did not know -- he had not read the papers.
"Well, it seems strange to see you way up here," said Mr. Kenny genially. "Stopping here?"
"Yes," said Hurstwood uneasily, thinking of his handwriting on the register.
"Going to be in town long?"
"No, only a day or so."
"Is that so? Had your breakfast?"
"Yes," said Hurstwood, lying blandly. "I'm just going for a shave."
"Won't you come have a drink?"
"Not until afterwards," said the ex-manager. "I'll see you later. Are you stopping here?"
"Yes," said Mr. Kenny, and then, turning the word again, added: "How are things out in Chicago?"
"About the same as usual," said Hurstwood, smiling genially.
"Wife with you?"
"No."
"Well, I must see more of you to-day. I'm just going in here for breakfast. Come in when you're through."
"I will," said Hurstwood, moving away. The whole conversation was a trial to him. It seemed to add complications with every word. This man called up a thousand memories. He represented everything he had left. Chicago, his wife, the elegant resort -- all these were in his greeting and inquiries. And here he was in this same hotel expecting to confer with him, unquestionably waiting to have a good time with him. All at once the Chicago papers would arrive. The local papers would have accounts in them this very day. He forgot his triumph with Carrie in the possibility of soon being known for what he was, in this man's eyes, a safe-breaker. He could have groaned as he went into the barber shop. He decided to escape and seek a more secluded hotel.
Accordingly, when he came out he was glad to see the lobby clear, and hastened toward the stairs. He would get Carrie and go out by the ladies' entrance. They would have breakfast in some more inconspicuous place.
Across the lobby, however, another individual was surveying him. He was of a commonplace Irish type, small of stature, cheaply dressed, and with a head that seemed a smaller edition of some huge ward politician's. This individual had been evidently talking with the clerk, but now he surveyed the ex-manager keenly.
Hurstwood felt the long-range examination and recognised the type. Instinctively he felt that the man was a detective -- that he was being watched. He hurried across, pretending not to notice, but in his mind was a world of thoughts. What would happen now? What could these people do? He began to trouble concerning the extradition laws. He did not understand them absolutely. Perhaps he could be arrested. Oh, if Carrie should find out！ Montreal was too warm for him. He began to long to be out of it.
Carrie had bathed and was waiting when he arrived. She looked refreshed -- more delightful than ever, but reserved. Since he had gone she had resumed somewhat of her cold attitude towards him. Love was not blazing in her heart. He felt it, and his troubles seemed increased. He could not take her in his arms; he did not even try. Something about her forbade it. In part his opinion was the result of his own experiences and reflections below stairs.
"You're ready, are you?" he said kindly.
"Yes," she answered.
"We'll go out for breakfast. This place down here doesn't appeal to me very much."
"All right," said Carrie.
They went out, and at the corner the commonplace Irish individual was standing, eyeing him. Hurstwood could scarcely refrain from showing that he knew of this chap's presence. The insolence in the fellow's eye was galling. Still they passed, and he explained to Carrie concerning the city. Another restaurant was not long in showing itself, and here they entered.
"What a queer town this is," said Carrie, who marvelled at it solely because it was not like Chicago.
"It isn't as lively as Chicago," said Hurstwood. "Don't you like it?"
"No," said Carrie, whose feelings were already localised in the great Western city.
"Well, it isn't as interesting," said Hurstwood.
"What's here?" asked Carrie, wondering at his choosing to visit this town.
"Nothing much," returned Hurstwood. "It's quite a resort. There's some pretty scenery about here."
Carrie listened, but with a feeling of unrest. There was much about her situation which destroyed the possibility of appreciation.
"We won't stay here long," said Hurstwood, who was now really glad to note her dissatisfaction. "You pick out your clothes as soon as breakfast is over and we'll run down to New York soon. You'll like that. It's a lot more like a city than any place outside Chicago."
He was really planning to slip out and away. He would see what these detectives would do -- what move his employers at Chicago would make -- then he would slip away -- down to New York, where it was easy to hide. He knew enough about that city to know that its mysteries and possibilities of mystification were infinite.
The more he thought, however, the more wretched his situation became. He saw that getting here did not exactly clear up the ground. The firm would probably employ detectives to watch him -- Pinkerton men or agents of Mooney and Boland. They might arrest him the moment he tried to leave Canada. So he might be compelled to remain here months, and in what a state！
Back at the hotel Hurstwood was anxious and yet fearful to see the morning papers. He wanted to know how far the news of his criminal deed had spread. So he told Carrie he would be up in a few moments, and went to secure and scan the dailies. No familiar or suspicious faces were about, and yet he did not like reading in the lobby, so he sought the main parlour on the floor above and, seated by a window there, looked them over. Very little was given to his crime, but it was there, several "sticks" in all, among all the riffraff of telegraphed murders, accidents, marriages, and other news. He wished, half sadly, that he could undo it all. Every moment of his time in this far-off abode of safety but added to his feeling that he had made a great mistake. There could have been an easier way out if he had only known.
He left the papers before going to the room, thinking thus to keep them out of the hands of Carrie.
"Well, how are you feeling?" he asked of her. She was engaged in looking out of the window.
"Oh, all right," she answered.
He came over, and was about to begin a conversation with her, when a knock came at their door.
"Maybe it's one of my parcels," said Carrie.
Hurstwood opened the door, outside of which stood the individual whom he had so thoroughly suspected.
"You're Mr. Hurstwood, are you?" said the latter, with a volume of affected shrewdness and assurance.
"Yes," said Hurstwood calmly. He knew the type so thoroughly that some of his old familiar indifference to it returned. Such men as these were of the lowest stratum welcomed at the resort. He stepped out and closed the door.
"Well, you know what I am here for, don't you?" said the man confidentially.
"I can guess," said Hurstwood softly.
"Well, do you intend to try and keep the money?"
"That's my affair," said Hurstwood grimly.
"You can't do it, you know," said the detective, eyeing him coolly.
"Look here, my man," said Hurstwood authoritatively, "you don't understand anything about this case, and I can't explain to you. Whatever I intend to do I'll do without advice from the outside. You'll have to excuse me."
"Well, now, there's no use of your talking that way," said the man, "when you're in the hands of the police. We can make a lot of trouble for you if we want to. You're not registered right in this house, you haven't got your wife with you, and the newspapers don't know you're here yet. You might as well be reasonable."
"What do you want to know?" asked Hurstwood.
"Whether you're going to send back that money or not."
Hurstwood paused and studied the floor.
"There's no use explaining to you about this," he said at last. "There's no use of your asking me. I'm no fool, you know. I know just what you can do and what you can't. You can create a lot of trouble if you want to. I know that all right, but it won't help you to get the money. Now, I've made up my mind what to do. I've already written Fitzgerald and Moy, so there's nothing I can say. You wait until you hear more from them."
All the time he had been talking he had been moving away from the door, down the corridor, out of the hearing of Carrie. They were now near the end where the corridor opened into the large general parlour.
"You won't give it up?" said the man.
The words irritated Hurstwood greatly. Hot blood poured into his brain. Many thoughts formulated themselves. He was no thief. He didn't want the money. If he could only explain to Fitzgerald and Moy, maybe it would be all right again.
"See here," he said, "there's no use my talking about this at all. I respect your power all right, but I'll have to deal with the people who know."
"Well, you can't get out of Canada with it," said the man.
"I don't want to get out," said Hurstwood. "When I get ready there'll be nothing to stop me for."
He turned back, and the detective watched him closely. It seemed an intolerable thing. Still he went on and into the room.
"Who was it?" asked Carrie.
"A friend of mine from Chicago."
The whole of this conversation was such a shock that, coming as it did after all the other worry of the past week, it sufficed to induce a deep gloom and moral revulsion in Hurstwood. What hurt him most was the fact that he was being pursued as a thief. He began to see the nature of that social injustice which sees but one side -- often but a single point in a long tragedy. All the newspapers noted but one thing, his taking the money. How and wherefore were but indifferently dealt with. All the complications which led up to it were unknown. He was accused without being understood.
Sitting in his room with Carrie the same day, he decided to send the money back. He would write Fitzgerald and Moy, explain all, and then send it by express. Maybe they would forgive him. Perhaps they would ask him back. He would make good the false statement he had made about writing them. Then he would leave this peculiar town.
For an hour he thought over this plausible statement of the tangle. He wanted to tell them about his wife, but couldn't. He finally narrowed it down to an assertion that he was light-headed from entertaining friends, had found the safe open, and having gone so far as to take the money out, had accidentally closed it. This act he regretted very much. He was sorry he had put them to so much trouble. He would undo what he could by sending the money back -- the major portion of it. The remainder he would pay up as soon as he could. Was there any possibility of his being restored? This he only hinted at.
The troubled state of the man's mind may be judged by the very construction of this letter. For the nonce he forgot what a painful thing it would be to resume his old place, even if it were given him. He forgot that he had severed himself from the past as by a sword, and that if he did manage to in some way reunite himself with it, the jagged line of separation and reunion would always show. He was always forgetting something -- his wife, Carrie, his need of money, present situation, or something -- and so did not reason clearly. Nevertheless, he sent the letter, waiting a reply before sending the money.
Meanwhile, he accepted his present situation with Carrie, getting what joy out of it he could.
Out came the sun by noon, and poured a golden flood through their open windows. Sparrows were twittering. There were laughter and song in the air. Hurstwood could not keep his eyes from Carrie. She seemed the one ray of sunshine in all his trouble. Oh, if she would only love him wholly -- only throw her arms around him in the blissful spirit in which he had seen her in the little park in Chicago -- how happy he would be！ It would repay him; it would show him that he had not lost all. He would not care.
"Carrie," he said, getting up once and coming over to her, "are you going to stay with me from now on?"
She looked at him quizzically, but melted with sympathy as the value of the look upon his face forced itself upon her. It was love now, keen and strong -- love enhanced by difficulty and worry. She could not help smiling.
"Let me be everything to you from now on," he said. "Don't make me worry any more. I'll be true to you. We'll go to New York and get a nice flat. I'll go into business again, and we'll be happy. Won't you be mine?"
Carrie listened quite solemnly. There was no great passion in her, but the drift of things and this man's proximity created a semblance of affection. She felt rather sorry for him -- a sorrow born of what had only recently been a great admiration. True love she had never felt for him. She would have known as much if she could have analysed her feelings, but this thing which she now felt aroused by his great feeling broke down the barriers between them.
"You'll stay with me, won't you?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, nodding her head.
He gathered her to himself, imprinting kisses upon her lips and cheeks.
"You must marry me, though," she said.
"I'll get a license to-day." he answered.
"How?" she asked.
"Under a new name," he answered. "I'll take a new name and live a new life. From now on I'm Murdock."
"Oh, don't take that name," said Carrie.
"Why not?" he said.
"I don't like it."
"Well, what shall I take?" he asked.
"Oh, anything, only don't take that."
He thought a while, still keeping his arms about her, and then said:
"How would Wheeler do?"
"That's all right," said Carrie.
"Well, then, Wheeler," he said. "I'll get the license this afternoon."
They were married by a Baptist minister, the first divine they found convenient.
At last the Chicago firm answered. It was by Mr. Moy's dictation. He was astonished that Hurstwood had done this; very sorry that it had come about as it had. If the money were returned, they would not trouble to prosecute him, as they really bore him no ill-will. As for his returning, or their restoring him to his former position, they had not quite decided what the effect of it would be. They would think it over and correspond with him later, possibly, after a little time, and so on.
The sum and substance of it was that there was no hope, and they wanted the money with the least trouble possible. Hurstwood read his doom. He decided to pay $9,500 to the agent whom they said they would send, keeping $1,300 for his own use. He telegraphed his acquiescence, explained to the representative who called at the hotel the same day, took a certificate of payment, and told Carrie to pack her trunk. He was slightly depressed over this newest move at the time he began to make it, but eventually restored himself. He feared that even yet he might be seized and taken back, so he tried to conceal his movements, but it was scarcely possible. He ordered Carrie's trunk sent to the depot, where he had it sent by express to New York. No one seemed to be observing him, but he left at night. He was greatly agitated lest at the first station across the border or at the depot in New York there should be waiting for him an officer of the law.
Carrie, ignorant of his theft and his fears, enjoyed the entry into the latter city in the morning. The round green hills sentinelling the broad, expansive bosom of the Hudson held her attention by their beauty as the train followed the line of the stream. She had heard of the Hudson River, the great city of New York, and now she looked out, filling her mind with the wonder of it.
As the train turned east at Spuyten Duyvil and followed the east bank of the Harlem River, Hurstwood nervously called her attention to the fact that they were on the edge of the city. After her experience with Chicago, she expected long lines of cars -- a great highway of tracks -- and noted the difference. The sight of a few boats in the Harlem and more in the East River tickled her young heart. It was the first sign of the great sea. Next came a plain street with five-story brick flats, and then the train plunged into the tunnel.
"Grand Central Station！" called the trainman, as, after a few minutes of darkness and smoke, daylight reappeared. Hurstwood arose and gathered up his small grip. He was screwed up to the highest tension. With Carrie he waited at the door and then dismounted. No one approached him, but he glanced furtively to and fro as he made for the street entrance. So excited was he that he forgot all about Carrie, who fell behind, wondering at his self-absorption. As he passed through the depot proper the strain reached its climax and began to wane. All at once he was on the sidewalk, and none but cabmen hailed him. He heaved a great breath and turned, remembering Carrie.
"I thought you were going to run off and leave me," she said.
"I was trying remember which car takes us to the Gilsey," he answered.
Carrie hardly heard him, so interested was she in the busy scene.
"How large is New York?" she asked.
"Oh, a million or more," said Hurstwood.
He looked around and hailed a cab, but he did so in a changed way.
For the first time in years the thought that he must count these little expenses flashed through his mind. It was a disagreeable thing.
He decided he would lose no time living in hotels but would rent a flat. Accordingly he told Carrie, and she agreed.
"We'll look to-day, if you want to," she said.
Suddenly he thought of his experience in Montreal. At the more important hotels he would be certain to meet Chicagoans whom he knew. He stood up and spoke to the driver.
"Take me to the Belford," he said, knowing it to be less frequented by those whom he knew. Then he sat down.
"Where is the residence part?" asked Carrie, who did not take the tall five-story walls on either hand to be the abodes of families.
"Everywhere," said Hurstwood, who knew the city fairly well. "There are no lawns in New York. All these are houses."
"Well, then, I don't like it," said Carrie, who was coming to have a few opinions of her own.
没有旅行过的人，对家乡以外的陌生地方总是很着迷。除了爱情，也就数这事能给人安慰，令人愉快了。所遇到的新鲜事物都十分重要，不容忽视。而人的头脑只是各种感官印象的反映，会被这些潮水般涌来的事物所征服。于是恋人被忘却，忧愁被撇开，死亡也看不见了。那句富有戏剧性的老话"我要走了"的背后，蕴藏着无限的情感。
当嘉莉望着窗外飞逝而过的景色对，她几乎忘了自己是被起来作这次违心的长途旅行的，也忘了她没带旅行的必需用品。她有时连赫斯渥的存在都忘了，只顾用惊奇的目光看着远处那些乡村中简朴的农舍和舒适的小屋。对她来说，这个世界很有趣。她的生活才刚刚开始。她一点也不觉得自己被打败了。她也不认为希望已经破灭。大城市有的是机会。很有可能，她会摆脱束缚，获得自由--谁知道呢？也许她会幸福。
想到这些，她便不再考虑自己是否做错了。她很乐观，因此不至于无法自拔。
第二天早晨，火车平安抵达蒙特利尔，他们下了车。赫斯渥很高兴已脱离了危险，嘉莉则惊叹着这北方城市的新奇气氛。很久以前，赫斯渥曾来过这里，这时他想起了他当时住过的旅馆的名字。当他们从车站正门出来时，他听到一个公共马车的车夫正在反复地叫着那个旅馆的名字。
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在帐房间里，赫斯渥把登记簿转过来时，帐房走上前来。
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他们被领到自己的房间后，嘉莉一眼就看出他给她找了一间可爱的卧室。
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她没有回答，只是盯着窗口。
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她否定地摇了摇头。
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鈥湻趴遥�澕卫蛩担凰艚舻芈ё拧�
鈥溎惆遥寐穑库�澦怠ｂ�溎愦酉衷谄鹁统晌业娜耍寐穑库�澕卫虼永疵挥卸运泄窀小＞驮谝环种又埃乖谟迫蛔缘玫靥祷埃赐汕椤Ｋ嫫粒娲蟮ǎ�
可是现在，这种感情变成了反抗情绪，一种软弱无力的反抗。一时间，这种反抗情绪在她心里占了上风。可是过不了一会儿，因为被他搂得很紧，她就开始变软了。在她的内心深处响起了另外一个声音。这个人，这个正把她紧紧地搂在怀里的人，是个强壮的男人。他热情，他爱她，而她又是孤单一人。若是她不投奔他--接受他的爱情--她又能去别的什么地方呢？面对他那潮水般涌来的强烈感情，她的抵抗有些瓦解了。
她发现他抬起了她的头，目光直盯着她的眼睛。她永远都搞不懂，他怎么会有这么大的吸引力。于是此刻，他的诸多罪过都被忘却了。
他把她搂得更紧并吻了她，她觉得再反抗已经毫无意义。
鈥溎阍敢夂臀医峄槁穑库�澦剩赐宋试趺唇岱ā�
鈥溄裉炀徒峄椋�澦担咝思恕�
这时旅馆的茶房把门敲得砰砰响，他遗憾地放开了她。
鈥溎阆衷诰妥急福寐穑库�澦担�溌砩稀ｂ�濃�満玫模�澦卮稹�
鈥溛遥晨讨雍缶突乩础ｂ��
他让茶房进来时，嘉莉红着脸兴奋地走到一边。
下楼之后，他在门厅里停下来找理发间。此刻，他情绪高昂。他刚刚赢得了嘉莉，这似乎补偿了过去的几天里他所遭受的折磨。看来人生是值得为之奋斗的。这一次抛下所有牵肠挂肚的日常琐事，向东逃亡，看来好像还有幸福在等待着。风暴过后会出现彩虹，彩虹的尽头可能是一坛金子。
他看见一个房间的门旁边装着一个红白条纹相间的小圆柱。正准备走到那里去时，听见一个声音亲热地和他打招呼。
他的心立刻往下一沉。
鈥溛梗愫茫侵危吓笥眩♀�澱馍羲怠ｂ�溎愕秸饫锢锤墒裁矗库�澓账逛滓丫退娑悦媪耍铣鍪撬呐笥芽夏幔桓龉善本腿恕�
鈥溊窗旒饺诵∈拢�澦卮穑宰永锞拖竦缁熬值慕酉吲桃谎Ω霾煌！Ｕ飧鋈讼匀换共恢�--他没看到报纸。
鈥溈龋婷幌氲交嵩谡饷丛兜牡胤郊侥悖�澘夏嵯壬浊械厮怠ｂ�溩≡谡饫锫穑库�濃�準堑模�澓账逛撞话驳厮担宰永锵胱诺羌遣旧献约旱谋始！�
鈥溡谡饫锎ぢ穑库��
鈥湶唬淮惶熳笥摇ｂ��
鈥溦娴穆穑吭绲愠怨挥校库��
鈥湷怨耍�澓账逛姿担趴谌隽嘶选ｂ�溛艺バ廾妗ｂ�濃�溎愎春纫槐寐穑库�濃�溡院笤俸劝桑�澱馕还サ木硭档馈ｂ�溛夜换岫纯茨悖闶亲≡谡饫锫穑库�濃�準堑模�澘夏嵯壬怠Ｈ缓笥职鸦疤庾乩矗钩渌担衡�溨ゼ痈缒潜叩那榭鲈趺囱库�� 鈥満屯２畈欢啵�澓账逛姿担浊械匦α诵Α�
鈥溙湍阋黄鹄戳寺穑库��
鈥溍挥小ｂ��
鈥満伲裉煳曳堑迷俸湍懔牧牟豢伞Ｎ腋盏秸饫锢闯栽绲恪�
你有空就过来。鈥�
鈥溛一崂吹模�澓账逛姿底抛呖恕Ｕ鎏富岸运此凳且怀⊥纯嗟目佳椤Ｋ坪趺拷惨桓鲎志驮黾恿艘环指丛印Ｕ飧鋈斯雌鹆怂奘幕匾洹Ｕ飧鋈舜碜潘灼囊磺小Ｖゼ痈纾奶�--这一切全在这个人的寒暄与询问之中。而现在这个人就住在这同一家旅馆里，盼着和他交谈，毫无疑问等着和他一起好好地玩一下。芝加哥的报纸随时都会到这里。当地的报纸今天就会有报道。想到这个人可能很快就会知道他的真面目，一个偷保险柜的贼，他忘记了赢得嘉莉的胜利。他走进理发间时，差不多都要哼出声来了。他决定逃走，找一家平静些的旅馆。
因此，当他出来时看见门厅里空无一人，心里很高兴，赶忙奔向楼梯。他要带上嘉莉，从妇女出入口出去。他们要去一个不大显眼的地方吃早点。
可是，在门厅的那一头，另一个人正在打量着他。那是个普通的爱尔兰人，身材矮小，衣着寒酸，却长着个特别的脑袋，看上去像是某个大选区政客的脑袋的缩本。这个人刚才明明一直在和帐房谈话。可是现在他却在敏锐地打量着这位过去的经理。
赫斯渥感觉到远处有人在观察他，看出了那人的身份。他本能地觉得那人是个侦探--他被监视了。他匆忙穿过门厅，假装没有察觉，可是心里却是千头万绪。现在会发生什么事呢？这些人会干什么呢？他开始费尽心思地去想关于引渡法的问题。他并不完全懂得这些法律。也许他会被捕。哎呀，要是嘉莉发觉就糟了！蒙特利尔他是待不下去了。他开始渴望离开这个地方。
当他回到房间时，嘉莉已经洗过澡，正在等他。她看起来容光焕发，比以往更加可爱，但是很矜持。在他走后，她又有点恢复了对他的冷淡态度。她的心里并没有爱情在燃烧。他感觉到了这一点，他的烦恼似乎也随之增加了。他没能把她搂在怀里，他连试都没试。她的神情不许他这样做，他自己在楼下的经历和沉思是他形成这一看法的部份原因。
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他们走了出来，那个普通的爱尔兰人正站在拐角处，盯着他看。赫斯渥差一点忍不住要露出他知道这家伙的存在的表情来。这家伙的傲慢目光令人恼怒。但他们还是走了过去。他对嘉莉谈了一些这个城市的情况。不久又看见一家餐馆，这一次他们走了进去。
鈥溦飧龀鞘姓婀殴郑�澕卫蛩担哉飧龀鞘懈械骄妫鼋鲆蛭幌裰ゼ痈纭�
鈥溦饫锊患爸ゼ痈缛饶郑�澓账逛姿担�溎阆不墩饫锫穑库�濃�湶幌不叮�澕卫虼鸬溃南埠醚岫裨缫咽艿侥歉鑫按蟮拿拦鞑砍鞘械木窒蘖恕�
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鈥溍挥惺裁刺乇鸬模�澓账逛谆卮稹ｂ�溦馐歉雎糜问さ亍Ｕ庖淮幸恍┟览龅姆缇啊ｂ�澕卫蛱牛睦锔械讲话病Ｋ芪约旱拇车Ｓ牵睦镉行那樾郎褪裁捶缇啊�
鈥溛颐遣辉谡饫锞么�澓账逛姿担衷诳吹剿宦猓拐娓械礁咝恕ｂ�溡怀酝暝绲悖憔腿ヌ艉靡路Ｎ颐锹砩先ヅυ肌Ｄ慊嵯不赌抢锏摹３酥ゼ痈缫酝猓墒潜绕渌魏蔚胤蕉家褚桓龀鞘小ｂ�澥导噬希窃诖蛩懔镏蠹Ｋ纯凑庑┱焯交岣尚┦裁�--他在芝加哥的东家们会采取什么行动--然后他就溜走--去纽约，那是个容易藏身的地方。他很熟悉那个城市，知道那个城市充满神秘，可以任由你神出鬼没。
可是，他越想越觉得自己的处境不妙。他发现来到这里，还是没有真正地解决问题。酒店很可能会雇用侦探来监视他--平克顿的手下或者穆尼和博兰侦探所的侦探。一旦他企图逃离加拿大，他们可能就会逮捕他。这样他也许就不得不在这里住上几个月，而且是处于如此狼狈的境况。
回到旅馆，赫斯渥急着想看早晨的报纸，可又害怕看。他想知道有关他的罪行的消息已经传了多远。于是，他告诉嘉莉他过一会儿再上来，就去找报纸看了。四周都没看见熟悉的或可疑的面孔，可他还是不想在门厅里看报，就找到楼上的大休息室，进去坐在窗边，把报纸浏览了一遍。关于他的罪行的报道极少，但还是有，一共就那么寥寥几行，夹在那些乱七八糟的关于各地谋杀、车祸、结婚以及其它消息的电讯报道之中。
他有些悲哀，真希望自己能抹掉这一切。在这个遥远的安全住所里，每过一分钟都会使他更加感到自己已铸成大错。应该会有更加容易的出路，当初他要是知道就好了。
他回房间之前，把报纸留在了那里，以为这样报纸就不会落到嘉莉的手中。
鈥溛梗愀芯踉趺囱玻库�澦仕Ｋ诳醋糯巴狻�
鈥溑叮芎茫�澦卮稹�
他走了过去，刚要开口和她说话，传来了敲门声。
鈥溈赡苁俏衣虻亩鞯搅耍�澕卫蛩怠�
赫斯渥开了门，门外站着他十分怀疑的那个人。
鈥溎闶呛账逛紫壬月穑库�澞侨怂担龀鲆桓狈浅＞鳌⒖隙ǖ哪Ｑ�
鈥準堑模�澓账逛渍蚨ǖ厮怠Ｋ私庹庵秩肆耍庵秩耸蔷频晁哟淖畹徒撞愕娜耍虼擞钟行┗指戳怂斩哉庵秩说穆辉诤醯奶取Ｋ绲矫磐猓衙殴厣狭恕�
鈥溦饷此担阒牢椅裁吹秸饫锢矗锹穑库�澱馊擞眯湃蔚目谄怠�
鈥溛夷懿碌剑�澓账逛仔∩厮怠�
鈥溎敲矗慊瓜肓糇拍潜是穑库��
鈥溎鞘俏易约旱氖拢�澓账逛桌涞厮怠�
鈥溎悴荒苣敲醋觯饽闶侵赖模�澱焯剿担溲鄞蛄孔潘�
鈥溙牛笥眩�澓账逛资⑵枞说厮担�溎阋坏阋膊涣私庹饧缸樱乙参薹ㄏ蚰憬馐汀Ｎ蚁胱鍪裁淳妥鍪裁矗恍枰鹑酥甘只拧；骨肽阍隆ｂ�濃�溑叮猛郏饶懵涞骄焓掷铮�澱馊怂担�溎阏饷此祷熬筒还苡昧恕Ｖ灰颐窃敢猓颐蔷涂梢愿阏液芏嗦榉场Ｄ阍谡饧衣霉莸羌敲挥杏谜媸敌彰忝挥写黄鹄矗ü莸娜嘶共恢滥阍谡饫铩Ｄ阕詈没故峭ㄇ榇锢硪坏恪ｂ�濃�溎阆胫佬┦裁矗库�澓账逛孜省�
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鈥溎侨耸撬库�澕卫蛭实馈�
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整个谈话使得赫斯渥大为震惊。刚刚经历了上个星斯的种种焦虑，又碰上这么一番谈话。震惊之余，他心里不由得产生了一种深深的忧虑和对道德的反感。最令他伤心的是他竟会被人当作贼来追捕。他开始看清了社会不公正的本质，这种不公正表现在只看到问题的一面--往往只看到一幕漫长的悲剧中的某一时刻。所有的报纸都只提到了一件事，这就是他偷了钱。至于怎么偷的和为什么要偷，却无人过问。造成这一后果的所有的复杂原因，也无人知晓。他在没被理解之前就给定了罪名。
同一天里，当他和嘉莉一起坐在房间里时，他决定寄回那笔钱。他要给费茨杰拉德和莫埃写信，把一切解释清楚。然后用快汇把钱寄回去。他们可能会原谅他。他们也许会请他回去。他要把他说的已写信给他们的谎话变为事实。然后他就会离开这个古怪的城市。
为了能言之有理地说明这件复杂的事情，他足足想了有一个钟头。他本想告诉他们有关他太太的事，但是难以启齿。
最后，他大事花小，只是简单地说明，他招待朋友时喝晕了头，发现保险柜是开着的，竟然把钱拿了出来，一不小心将保险柜锁上了。这件事令他后悔莫及。他给他们添了那么多麻烦，真是对不起他们。他要尽力挽回这件事，把钱寄回去--把其中的大部分寄回去。剩下的部份他会尽快还清。是否有可能让他恢复原职？这一点他只是暗示了一下。
从这封信的构思本身，就可看出这人是怎样的心烦意乱。
他当时忘记了，即使让他恢复了原职，那也将是一件多么痛苦的事情。他忘记了他使自己和过去已经像是一刀两断，即使他能设法多少让自己和过去破镜重圆，也难免总要露出分离和重合的裂痕来。他总是会忘记些什么--他的太太，嘉莉，他需要钱用，眼前的处境，或其它什么--因此考虑问题不清楚。不过，他还是寄走了这封信，想等收到回信再汇钱去。
在此期间，他和嘉莉则安于现状，尽情享受其中的乐趣。
中午太阳出来了，潮水般的金色阳光从他们敞开的窗户直泻进来。麻雀在吱吱喳喳地叫着，空气中飘荡着欢歌笑语。
赫斯渥的目光一刻也离不开嘉莉。在他的一切烦恼中，她好像是一缕阳光。啊，只要她能全心全意地爱他--只要她能带着他在芝加哥那个小公园里见到她时那般快乐无比的心情，张开双臂拥抱他，他将有多么幸福呀！这就是对他的补偿；这就能向他表明他并没有丧失一切。他也就不在乎了。
鈥溂卫颍�澦担丝趟玖似鹄矗叩剿纳肀撸�溎阍敢獯酉衷谄鹁秃臀乙黄鹕盥穑库�澦苫蟮乜醋潘堑彼惺艿剿拿娌勘砬槟沁瓦捅迫说牧α渴保娜砹耍送椤Ｕ饩褪前椋苛抑�--因烦恼和忧虑而加深了的爱情。她忍不住笑了。
鈥湸酉衷谄穑腿梦页晌愕囊磺邪桑�澦怠ｂ�湵鹪偃梦业Ｐ牧恕Ｎ一嶂沂涤谀恪Ｎ颐且ヅυ颊乙惶灼恋墓ⅰＮ医匦戮蹋颐腔嵝腋５摹Ｄ阍敢獬晌业娜寺穑库�澕卫蚝苎纤嗟靥拧Ｋ睦锊⒚挥卸啻蟮募で椋撬孀攀虑榈耐埔疲由险馊说那捉顾袷嵌苏媲椤Ｋ芴嫠压�--这是从那份前不久还是十分钦佩的感情中产生的一种惋惜之情。她对他从未有过真正的爱情。倘若她能分析一下自己的感情，就会明白这一点。但是她眼前为他的激情而动的感情却消除了他俩之间的隔阂。
鈥溎阍敢夂臀乙黄鹕盍耍锹穑库�澦省�
鈥準堑模�澦担懔说阃贰�
他把她揽进怀里，吻着她的嘴唇和面颊。
鈥湶还惚匦牒臀医峄椋�澦怠�
鈥溛医裉炀腿チ旖峄橹な椋�澦卮稹�
鈥溤趺戳旆ǎ库�澦省�
鈥溣酶鲂碌男帐希�澦鸬馈ｂ�溛乙桓鲂碌男帐希碌纳睢４酉衷谄穑揖托漳嗫肆恕ｂ�濃�溑叮鹩媚歉鲂帐希�澕卫蛩怠�
鈥溛裁矗库�澦怠�
鈥溛也幌不丁ｂ��
鈥溎敲矗医惺裁春媚兀库�澦实馈�
鈥溑叮姹闶裁炊夹校灰唤心嗫恕ｂ�澦肓艘换岫刍孤ё潘缓笏担衡�溄谢堇招新穑库�濃�溦飧霾淮恚�澕卫蛩怠�
鈥溎敲矗茫陀没堇眨�澦担�溛医裉煜挛缇腿チ旖峄橹な椤ｂ�澦墙峄榱耍梢晃唤窕崮潦χ骰椋馐撬撬苷业降牡谝桓龊鲜实纳裰叭嗽薄�
终于，芝加哥的酒店回信了。信是莫埃先生口授的。他对赫斯渥做出这种事很感惊讶，对事情弄到这种地步深表遗憾。
倘若他能归还钱款，他们并不想费力去起诉他，因为他们对他实在并无恶意。至于让他回去，或是他们给他恢复原职一事，他们还拿不准那样做会产生什么样的影响。他们要考虑一下，以后再通知他。可能会很快，云云。
总之，这封信告诉他，没有希望了。他们只想拿回钱款，麻烦则越少越好。赫斯渥从信中看到了自己的厄运。他决定把９５００块钱交给他们说要派来的那个代理人，留下１３００块钱自己用。他发了一份电报表示同意，向当天就来旅馆找他的那个代理人作了一番解释。拿了收据，然后就叫嘉莉收拾箱子。
他在开始采取这一最新行动时感到有点沮丧，但最终又振作了起来。他害怕即使在这个时候，他还可能被抓住，被押送回去，所以他试图隐蔽自己的行动，但这几乎不可能做到。他叫人把嘉莉的箱子送到火车站，由铁路用快运托运到纽约，看上去并没有人在监视他。但他还是在夜里离开了。他焦虑万分，生怕在越过国境线的第一站，或者是在纽约火车站，会有一个执法官在等着他。
嘉莉不知道他的偷窃行为和他的种种恐惧，当火车第二天早晨抵达纽约时，感到很高兴。火车正沿着赫德森河行驶，一座座圆顶的青山如同哨兵般守护着宽阔的河谷，这美丽的景色深深地吸引了她。她曾经听说过赫德森河，伟大的都市纽约，现在她看着窗外，心里对这个大都市惊叹不已。
当火车在斯布丁杜佛尔向东转弯，沿着哈莱姆河东岸行驶时，赫斯渥紧张地提醒她，他们已经到了纽约城边。按照她在芝加哥的经验，她原以为会看见一长列的车厢，一大片纵横交错的铁轨，但却发现这里不同。看见哈莱姆河里的一些船只和东河里更多的船只，她那颗年轻的心发痒了。这是大海的第一个征兆。接着是一条平坦的大街，两边耸立着砖造的五层楼房，然后火车钻进了隧道。
在黑暗和烟尘中过了几分钟后，又重见了天日。这时列车员叫道：鈥溨醒氪笳镜搅恕ｂ�澓账逛渍酒鹕砝矗帐捌渌男÷眯邪Ｋ纳窬叨冉粽拧Ｋ偶卫蛟诔得趴诘攘艘幌拢缓笙铝顺怠Ｃ挥腥顺呃矗彼蛄俳值某隹诖ψ吖ナ保故峭低档厮拇φ磐Ｋざ耍煌橇思卫颍湓诤竺妫婀炙够嶂还俗约骸５彼┕嫡敬笙檬保粽诺搅思悖婧蟊闼沙谙吕矗⒓瓷狭巳诵械溃寺沓捣颍蝗讼蛩蛘泻簟Ｋ蟠蟮厮闪艘豢谄肫鹆思卫颍阕砣ァ�
鈥溛一挂晕阋挛乙桓鋈伺芰四兀�澦怠�
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嘉莉正一门心思注意着街上热闹的景象，几乎没听见他在说什么。
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他看了一下四周，叫了一辆马车，但他叫车的神态变了。
多少年来，这是他第一次想到他得算计这些细小的开支。
这是令人不快的事。
他打定主意不在旅馆里久住，而要尽快租一套公寓。他把这个主意告诉嘉莉，她表示同意。
鈥溔绻愀咝说幕埃颐墙裉炀腿フ遥�澦怠�
突然他想起了他在蒙特利尔的经历。在那些大旅馆里。他肯定会遇到芝加哥的熟人。他站了起来，对马车夫说话。
鈥溔ケ炊Ｌ芈霉荩�澦担浪氖烊瞬淮蠡崛フ饧衣霉荨Ｈ缓笏讼吕础�
鈥溩≌谀睦铮�"嘉莉问道，她以为街道两旁的那些五层楼不是住家的地方。
鈥湹酱Χ际牵�澓账逛姿担哉飧龀鞘邢嗟笔煜ぁｂ�溑υ济挥胁萜骸Ｕ庑┒际亲≌ｂ�濃�溑叮庋幕埃也幌不墩饫铮�澕卫蛩担丫加行┳约旱闹骷恕�
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