酷兔英语



IF ANY MAN SIN

BY H. A. CODY

AUTHOR OF THE CHIEF OF THE RANGES, THE LONG PATROL, UNDER SEALED ORDERS,

THE FRONTIERSMAN, Etc.

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

Copyright, 1915,

BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

Printed in the United States of America

TO MY WIFE

THIS BOOK IS

LOVINGLY DEDICATED

CONTENTS

I. CHORDS OF MEMORY

II. THE VERGE OF TREMBLING

III. A WILDERNESS WAIF

IV. BY THE MIRRORING LAKE

V. A CABIN FOR TWO

VI. 'TIS HARD TO FORGET

VII. THE CEASELESS THROB

VIII. THE DISCOVERY

IX. THE GOLDEN LURE

X. THE AWAKENING

XI. UNFOLDING

XII. THE EDGE OF EVENTS

XIII. THE LAP OF TO-MORROW

XIV. THE SUPPLANTER

XV. SUSPICION

XVI. TOM MAKES A DISCOVERY

XVII. HEART THRUSTS

XVIII. THE ROYAL BOUNTY

XIX. BEGINNINGS

XX. UNDER COVER OF NIGHT

XXI. THE WAY OF A WOMAN

XXII. HEART SEARCHINGS

XXIII. THE MEETING

XXIV. WITHIN THE LITTLE ROOM

XXV. THE RIVER FLOWS BETWEEN

XXVI. THE FACE AT THE DOOR

XXVII. THE INNER IMPULSE

XXVIII. THE KEEPSAKE

XXIX. ATONEMENT

XXX. REVELATION

XXXI. "THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOWS"

XXXII. REFINED GOLD

IF ANY MAN SIN

CHAPTER I

CHORDS OF MEMORY

It was Sunday night and the great city was hushed in silence. A thick

mist hung over streets and houses through which numerous lights

endeavoured to force their rays. Few people were astir and all traffic

had ceased. Presently the chimes from a hidden church tower pealed forth

their sweet message to the world. A man standing alone within the shadow

of the church started and turned his face upwards. The musical sounds

seemed to fascinate him, and he listened as one entranced. He gave no

heed to the men and women hurrying by phantom-like on their way to the

evening service. Not until the last note had died upon the air did the

man abandon his listening attitude. Then his head drooped, his tense

body relaxed, and he stepped back a few paces as if fearful of being

observed. Twice he started forward, moved by some inner impulse, but

each time he shrank back deeper within the shadow. His strong form

trembled convulsively, telling plainly of a mighty fire of emotion

raging within.

The man at length left his place of concealment and paced rapidly up and

down outside the church, with his head bent forward. This he did for

some time. He at last paused, stood for a while in an undecided manner,

and then with a stealthy step approached the door. His hand was raised

to the large iron latch when strains of music fell upon his ears. Then

he heard the sound of numerous voices lifted up in the closing hymn. His

courage almost deserted him, and he half turned as if to leave the

place. But some irresistible power seemed to stay his steps and force

him to open the door and enter.

The church was warm, brightly lighted, and well filled with men and

women. No one heeded the stranger as he slipped quietly into a back seat

and looked around. The trained voices of the white-robed choir thrilled

his soul. Every word of the hymn was familiar to him, for he had often

sung it in days gone by. The congregation, too, was singing, and ere

long he distinguished one voice from the rest. He had not heard it at

first, but now it fell upon his ears with a startling intensity. It was

a woman's voice, sweet, clear, and full of mingled tenderness and

pathos. The man's firm white hands clutched hard the back of the seat in

front of him, and his face underwent a marvellous transformation. His

eyes shone with eagerness, and his bosom lifted and fell from the

vehemence of his emotion. He leaned forward until he could see the

singer and watched her intently. Then when the hymn was finished, and

ere the congregation dispersed, the stranger, having cast one more

longing look upon the woman with the sweet voice, slipped noiselessly

out of the building.

Upon reaching the street he stepped aside and waited for the people to

come forth. It was not long ere the big door was thrown wide open, and

as the men and women passed by he scrutinised them as closely as

possible. He was watching for one person alone, and presently he saw her

walking by herself. When she had gone a short distance he followed

after, and never once let her out of his sight until she came to a large

house, the door of which she opened and entered.

For some time the man stood outside, keeping his eyes fixed upon the

building. A policeman passing by noted the man, and, mistaking him for a

vagrant, ordered him away. The stranger's pale face flushed, and his

hands clenched as he obeyed the command. Slowly he walked along the

street with his eyes fixed upon the pavement. At length he paused,

retraced his steps, and stood once more before the house into which the

woman had entered. Here he remained until the clock of a nearby church

struck the hour of eleven. Then, drawing himself together, the man

hurried away with rapid steps. Reaching a house on a side street, he

opened a door with a latch-key, and passed within. Up three flights of

stairs he moved till he came to a little room on the top floor. Groping

around in the dark, he lighted an oil lamp fastened to the wall.

It was a humble and scantily furnished garret he had entered. In one

corner was a narrow cot. At its foot stood a wash-stand, over which hung

a small cracked mirror. A rough worn table occupied the centre of the

room, upon which rested a well-kept violin lying by its open case.

Opposite the door was an open fire-place, and as the night was chilly

the man lighted a fire from several dry sticks, and threw on some soft

coal. Soon a cheerful blaze was curling up the chimney, before which the

man sat on the one rickety chair the room contained and warmed his

numbed hands.

For over half an hour he remained thus, gazing down intently into the

fire. But hotter than the coals before him seemed the eyes which burned

in his head. At last he aroused from his reverie and, crossing the room,

opened a small grip and brought forth a carefully-folded newspaper

clipping. This he unwrapped, spread it out upon the table, and drawing

up his chair sat down. He fixed his eyes upon an article with the big

headline, "Deposed by His Bishop." A deep flush mantled his cheeks and

brow as he read for more than the thousandth time that story of disgrace

and degradation. He had really no need to read it over again, for every

word was seared upon his soul as with a red-hot iron. But the printed

words seemed to fascinate him. The tale was all there in black and

white, and the newspaper had made the most of it.

But there were things which were not recorded in cold type, and ere long

his eyes drifted from the printed page far off into space. He beheld

again the white-haired bishop sitting in his library, and heard his

voice tremble as he uttered the words which deposed him forever from the

Ministry. Then he recalled his own hot invectives hurled against the

Church, and the vow that he would banish it and its teaching entirely

from his heart and mind, and free himself from its influence. He

remembered his scornful laugh when the bishop told him that such a thing

was impossible. "Martin Rutland," he had said in an impressive voice,

"you know not what you are saying. Do you imagine that you can cut

yourself off from the influence of the Church of your childhood? I tell

you that you are mistaken, for such a thing is utterly impossible. The

Church and her teaching will follow you to the grave, no matter to what

part of the world you go." He had laughed at the bishop's words then,

thinking them to be only an old man's empty threat.

He lived over again his last visit to his aged parents. It was the day

before Christmas, and they believed that he had to hurry away to attend

the services in his parish the next morning. Never for a moment did they

suspect him of a single wrong. How proudly they had looked upon him as

he stood before them ere he left the house. He never saw them again, and

now in the loneliness of his barren room, a wretched outcast, buffeted

by the world, he bowed his head upon the table and gave vent to his

feelings in a flood of passionate tears. The whole vision rose before

him with stinging vividness: his little home and the happy days of

youth; his bright prospects, and what he would make of life; his parents

toiling and denying themselves to provide for his education. It all came

back to him this night like a mighty rushing torrent. In the excitement

of the years of aimless wandering, he had partly stifled the thoughts.

But to-night it was impossible. The pent-up stream, which could no

longer be curbed, had given way in one onward sweep, all the greater,

and over-mastering because of the restraint of years.

He rose abruptly to his feet and paced rapidly up and down the room. He

knew what had brought upon him this mood. Why had he been so weak as to

enter that church? he asked himself. And what was she doing there? He

could not separate the two. The Church and Beryl were always connected.

He recalled the last time he had seen her in his old parish. It was the

evening of the day he had said good-bye to his parents. He wished to see

her, but upon approaching her home his courage had failed him. How could

he look into her face with the great stain upon him? Her large lustrous

eyes would have pierced his very soul. She believed him to be true,

noble, and upright. But how little was she aware as she sat at the piano

that night, practising the Christmas music, that Rutland, to whom she

had given her heart and hand, was watching her longingly through the

window. He had stood there until she ceased her playing. Then she had

come to the window and looked out upon the world of snow and ice. He

remembered how he had shrunk back fearful lest she should see him. For

some time did she stand there, and Rutland knew that of him she was

thinking. He had waited until the house was in darkness, and then crept

back to his own lodging place.

How every incident of that night was burnt upon his brain! He had left

the parish like a coward, and when several days later the startling news

of his fall and deposition reached Glendale he was swallowed up in the

great world of seething humanity. He knew nothing of the grief and agony

of his parents, nor the overwhelming blow which for a time almost

prostrated Beryl Heathcote. But he read the accounts of his degradation

in the papers, and heard men by his side discuss the affair in a light

careless manner. How he had recoiled as he listened to their rough

remarks, and their apparent delight that another clergyman had gone

astray. In a few weeks the story of wrong was forgotten, save by those

whose hearts had been most sorely stricken.

Rutland had wandered far and wide, staying only long enough in any one

place to earn enough money to supply his scanty needs. He would prove

the bishop's words to be false. He would get away from the influence of

the Church and all religious teaching. He attended no place of worship

during the years of his wanderings, and though living in a country of

churches and Church activities he believed that he had so steeled his

heart and mind that never again could they exert any influence over him.

He lived entirely for himself, and to the few people he occasionally met

he was a mystery.

But Rutland had found that he could as easily walk through a

flower-garden and not touch the flowers nor inhale their fragrance as he

could pass through the world and not be affected by the influence of the

Christian religion. He upbraided himself for his weakness in entering

that church. That it should never happen again he was determined. He

must get away far off into the wilderness. He would go where the

influence of the Church was unknown, and where it was not even a name.

He would penetrate regions never before trodden by the feet of white

man, and there at last he would find the rest and peace he desired. To

stay longer in this city so near to Beryl he could not. The thought of

her, however, brought a degree of calmness to his troubled mind. He had

ever associated her with peace. In days gone by her mere presence was

refreshing. Now she was near, but he must not go to her, neither must

she ever know how close he had been to her this night. When she thought

of him, he mused, it must be with the deepest loathing. What a terrible

change the years had brought about! There was a time when he could

hasten to her side, and rejoice in her love. How she would listen to him

as he played upon the violin, and often she would accompany him upon the

piano. All that was changed now. They were sundered more widely than by

the broadest ocean.

At length he paused before the table and picked up the violin, one of

the few cherished things he had carried with him. It alone had been his

comforting companion in his wretched wandering life. And so to-night as

he seated himself upon the cranky chair, and drew the bow across the

strings, the old mystic spell swept over his soul. He was a child once

more, care-free and happy, playing around his home with the flowers,

birds, bees, and butterflies as his companions. He passed into his first

and only parish. He saw the faces of those to whom he ministered turned

up to him, their chosen leader. But brightest and most-outstanding of

all was the face of Beryl as she watched him from her seat by the little

church organ.

When Rutland ceased the fire was out in the grate, and a clock in a

nearby steeple was striking the hour of two. A shiver passed through his

body as he rose and laid his violintenderly upon the table. Hastily

blowing out the light, he threw himself upon the narrow cot, and drew

over him the two thin blankets. At length the outcast slept, and for a

time the fierce agony of heart and mind troubled him no more.

CHAPTER II

THE VERGE OF TREMBLING

When the news of Martin Rutland's ignominy reached Beryl Heathcote all

the light and joy passed out of her life. At first she could not believe

it possible, and hoped against hope that there had been some terrible

mistake. In a few days, however, she had to realise that it was only too

true, and that the man in whom she had trusted so implicitly was an

outcast not only from society but from the Church as well. She tried to

bear up and face the storm which raged so furiously in the parish. On

every side she was forced to listen to the most scathing denunciations

of the deposed clergyman. People seemed to take a fiendish delight in

calling upon her to discuss the affair and to express their undesired

sympathy. No word of blame or complaint passed her lips. At first she

cherished the feeble hope that Martin would either return or write to

her, that he would prove himself innocent. But as the days slowly edged


生词表:
  • wilderness [´wildənis] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.荒地,荒野   (初中英语单词)
  • valley [´væli] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.谷;河谷;流域   (初中英语单词)
  • presently [´prezəntli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.不久;目前   (初中英语单词)
  • hidden [´hid(ə)n] 移动到这儿单词发声  hide 的过去分词   (初中英语单词)
  • standing [´stændiŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.持续 a.直立的   (初中英语单词)
  • musical [´mju:zikəl] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.音乐的;悦耳的   (初中英语单词)
  • fascinate [´fæsineit] 移动到这儿单词发声  v.迷住;强烈地吸引住   (初中英语单词)
  • abandon [ə´bændən] 移动到这儿单词发声  vt.抛弃,放弃,离弃   (初中英语单词)
  • fearful [´fiəfəl] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.可怕的;担心的   (初中英语单词)
  • impulse [´impʌls] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.推动(力);冲动;刺激   (初中英语单词)
  • plainly [´pleinli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.平坦地;简单地   (初中英语单词)
  • emotion [i´məuʃən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.感情;情绪;激动   (初中英语单词)
  • policeman [pə´li:smən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.警察   (初中英语单词)
  • humble [´hʌmbəl] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.谦卑的 vt.贬抑   (初中英语单词)
  • cheerful [´tʃiəful] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.快乐的;高兴的   (初中英语单词)
  • bishop [´biʃəp] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.主教   (初中英语单词)
  • childhood [´tʃaildhud] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.幼年(时代);早期   (初中英语单词)
  • proudly [´praudli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.骄傲地;傲慢地   (初中英语单词)
  • barren [´bærən] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.贫瘠的;不生育的   (初中英语单词)
  • wretched [´retʃid] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.可怜的;倒霉的   (初中英语单词)
  • vision [´viʒən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.视觉;想象力;幻影   (初中英语单词)
  • aimless [´eimlis] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.没有目标;无目的的   (初中英语单词)
  • partly [´pɑ:tli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.部分地;不完全地   (初中英语单词)
  • stream [stri:m] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.河 vi.流出;飘扬   (初中英语单词)
  • abruptly [ə´brʌptli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.突然地;粗鲁地   (初中英语单词)
  • incident [´insidənt] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.小事件;事变   (初中英语单词)
  • coward [´kauəd] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.胆怯者 a.胆小的   (初中英语单词)
  • humanity [hju:´mæniti] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.人类;人性;仁慈   (初中英语单词)
  • apparent [ə´pærənt] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.显然的;表面上的   (初中英语单词)
  • occasionally [ə´keiʒənəli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.偶然地;非经常地   (初中英语单词)
  • weakness [´wi:knis] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.虚弱;弱点,缺点   (初中英语单词)
  • rejoice [ri´dʒɔis] 移动到这儿单词发声  v.(使)高兴;欢庆   (初中英语单词)
  • companion [kəm´pæniən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.同伴;同事;伴侣   (初中英语单词)
  • striking [´straikiŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.显著的,明显的   (初中英语单词)
  • shiver [´ʃivə] 移动到这儿单词发声  v.&n.(使)颤抖;碎片   (初中英语单词)
  • fierce [fiəs] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.残忍的;强烈的   (初中英语单词)
  • complaint [kəm´pleint] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.抱怨;叫屈   (初中英语单词)
  • feeble [´fi:bəl] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.虚弱的,无力的   (初中英语单词)
  • innocent [´inəsənt] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.无罪的;单纯的   (初中英语单词)
  • mighty [´maiti] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.强有力的 ad.很   (高中英语单词)
  • brightly [´braitli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.明亮地;聪明地   (高中英语单词)
  • distinguished [di´stiŋgwiʃt] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.卓越的,著名的   (高中英语单词)
  • startling [´stɑ:tliŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.惊人的   (高中英语单词)
  • intensity [in´tensiti] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.激烈;强度;深度   (高中英语单词)
  • tenderness [´tendənis] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.娇嫩;柔软;温柔   (高中英语单词)
  • eagerness [´i:gənis] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.渴望;热忱   (高中英语单词)
  • pavement [´peivmənt] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.路面;铺筑材料   (高中英语单词)
  • banish [´bæniʃ] 移动到这儿单词发声  vt.流放;消除(顾虑等)   (高中英语单词)
  • impressive [im´presiv] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.给人深刻印象的   (高中英语单词)
  • saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.言语;言论;格言   (高中英语单词)
  • mistaken [mis´teikən] 移动到这儿单词发声  mistake的过去分词   (高中英语单词)
  • parish [´pæriʃ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.教区(的全体居民)   (高中英语单词)
  • loneliness [´ləunliniz] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.孤独,寂寞   (高中英语单词)
  • passionate [´pæʃənit] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.易动情的;易怒的   (高中英语单词)
  • torrent [´tɔrənt] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.奔流,激流,洪流;迸发   (高中英语单词)
  • onward [´ɔnwəd] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.&a.向前(的)   (高中英语单词)
  • restraint [ri´streint] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.抑制;管束;克制   (高中英语单词)
  • upright [´ʌprait] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.直立的 ad.直立地   (高中英语单词)
  • lodging [´lɔdʒiŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.寄宿,住宿   (高中英语单词)
  • clergyman [´klə:dʒimən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.牧师;教士   (高中英语单词)
  • scanty [´skænti] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.贫乏的;节省的   (高中英语单词)
  • fragrance [´freigrəns] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.芬芳,芳香   (高中英语单词)
  • penetrate [´penitreit] 移动到这儿单词发声  v.贯穿;穿透;渗透   (高中英语单词)
  • tenderly [´tendəli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.娇嫩地;柔和地   (高中英语单词)
  • furiously [´fjuəriəsli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.狂怒地;有力地   (高中英语单词)
  • patrol [pə´trəul] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.巡逻 v.巡逻(查)   (英语四级单词)
  • refined [ri´faind] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.精制的;文雅的   (英语四级单词)
  • upwards [´ʌpwədz] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.=upward   (英语四级单词)
  • irresistible [,iri´zistəbəl] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.不可抵抗的   (英语四级单词)
  • congregation [,kɔŋgri´geiʃən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.集合;团体   (英语四级单词)
  • transformation [,trænsfə´meiʃən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.转化;转变;改造   (英语四级单词)
  • intently [in´tentli] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.专心地   (英语四级单词)
  • drawing [´drɔ:iŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.画图;制图;图样   (英语四级单词)
  • garret [´gærit] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.阁楼,顶楼   (英语四级单词)
  • violin [,vaiə´lin] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.(小)提琴   (英语四级单词)
  • overwhelming [,əuvə´welmiŋ] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.压倒的;势不可挡的   (英语四级单词)
  • steeple [´sti:pəl] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.(礼拜堂等的)尖塔   (英语四级单词)
  • ceaseless [´si:slis] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.不绝的,不停的   (英语六级单词)
  • shrank [ʃræŋk] 移动到这儿单词发声  shrink的过去式   (英语六级单词)
  • concealment [kən´si:lmənt] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.隐藏,隐瞒   (英语六级单词)
  • cracked [krækt] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.有裂缝的;碎的;粗哑   (英语六级单词)
  • degradation [,degrə´deiʃən] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.降低;恶化;堕落   (英语六级单词)
  • scornful [´skɔ:nful] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.轻蔑的,藐视的   (英语六级单词)
  • sorely [´sɔ:li] 移动到这儿单词发声  ad.痛苦地;剧烈地   (英语六级单词)
  • affected [ə´fektid] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.做作的;假装的   (英语六级单词)
  • calmness [´kɑ:mnis] 移动到这儿单词发声  n.平静;安静   (英语六级单词)
  • mystic [´mistik] 移动到这儿单词发声  a.神秘的;难以理解的   (英语六级单词)

  • 上传人 欢乐鱼 分享于 2017-06-26 17:12:20
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