life in the iron-mills-第6部分

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come　into　the　gran'　house　hur　wud　build；　to　vex　hur　wid　t'

hunch；only　at　night；　when　t'　shadows　were　dark；　stand　far　off

to　see　hur。〃



Mad？　　Yes！　　Are　many　of　us　mad　in　this　way？



〃Poor　Deb！　poor　Deb！〃　he　said；　soothingly。



〃It　is　here；〃　she　said；　suddenly；　jerking　into　his　hand　a　small

roll。　　〃I　took　it！　　I　did　it！　　Me；　me！not　hur！　　I　shall　be

hanged；　I　shall　be　burnt　in　hell；　if　anybody　knows　I　took　it！

Out　of　his　pocket；　as　he　leaned　against　t'　bricks。　　Hur　knows？〃



She　thrust　it　into　his　hand；　and　then；　her　errand　done；　began　to

gather　chips　together　to　make　a　fire；　choking　down　hysteric

sobs。



〃Has　it　come　to　this？〃



That　was　all　he　said。　　The　Welsh　Wolfe　blood　was　honest。　　The

roll　was　a　small　green　pocket…book　containing　one　or　two　gold

pieces；　and　a　check　for　an　incredible　amount；　as　it　seemed　to

the　poor　puddler。　　He　laid　it　down；　hiding　his　face　again　in　his

hands。



〃Hugh；　don't　be　angry　wud　me！　　It's　only　poor　Deb；hur　knows？〃



He　took　the　long　skinny　fingers　kindly　in　his。



〃Angry？　　God　help　me；　no！　　Let　me　sleep。　　I　am　tired。〃



He　threw　himself　heavily　down　on　the　wooden　bench；　stunned　with

pain　and　weariness。　　She　brought　some　old　rags　to　cover　him。



It　was　late　on　Sunday　evening　before　he　awoke。　　I　tell　God's

truth；　when　I　say　he　had　then　no　thought　of　keeping　this　money。

Deborah　had　hid　it　in　his　pocket。　　He　found　it　there。　　She

watched　him　eagerly；　as　he　took　it　out。



〃I　must　gif　it　to　him；〃　he　said；　reading　her　face。



〃Hur　knows；〃　she　said　with　a　bitter　sigh　of　disappointment。

〃But　it　is　hur　right　to　keep　it。〃



His　right！　　The　word　struck　him。　　Doctor　May　had　used　the　same。

He　washed　himself；　and　went　out　to　find　this　man　Mitchell。　　His

right！　　Why　did　this　chance　word　cling　to　him　so　obstinately？

Do　you　hear　the　fierce　devils　whisper　in　his　ear；　as　he　went

slowly　down　the　darkening　street？



The　evening　came　on；　slow　and　calm。　　He　seated　himself　at　the

end　of　an　alley　leading　into　one　of　the　larger　streets。　　His

brain　was　clear　to…night；　keen；　intent；　mastering。　　It　would　not

start　back；　cowardly；　from　any　hellish　temptation；　but　meet　it

face　to　face。　　Therefore　the　great　temptation　of　his　life　came

to　him　veiled　by　no　sophistry；　but　bold；　defiant；　owning　its　own

vile　name；　trusting　to　one　bold　blow　for　victory。



He　did　not　deceive　himself。　　Theft！　　That　was　it。　　At　first　the

word　sickened　him；　then　he　grappled　with　it。　　Sitting　there　on

a　broken　cart…wheel；　the　fading　day；　the　noisy　groups；　the

church…bells'　tolling　passed　before　him　like　a　panorama；　while

the　sharp　struggle　went　on　within。　　This　money！　　He　took　it　out；

and　looked　at　it。　　If　he　gave　it　back；　what　then？　　He　was　going

to　be　cool　about　it。



People　going　by　to　church　saw　only　a　sickly　mill…boy　watching

them　quietly　at　the　alley's　mouth。　　They　did　not　know　that　he

was　mad；　or　they　would　not　have　gone　by　so　quietly：　　mad　with

hunger；　stretching　out　his　hands　to　the　world；　that　had　given　so

much　to　them；　for　leave　to　live　the　life　God　meant　him　to　live。

His　soul　within　him　was　smothering　to　death；　he　wanted　so　much；

thought　so　much；　and　knewnothing。　　There　was　nothing　of　which

he　was　certain；　except　the　mill　and　things　there。　　Of　God　and

heaven　he　had　heard　so　little；　that　they　were　to　him　what　fairy…

land　is　to　a　child：　　something　real；　but　not　here；　very　far　off。

His　brain；　greedy；　dwarfed；　full　of　thwarted　energy　and　unused

powers；　questioned　these　men　and　women　going　by；　coldly；

bitterly；　that　night。　　Was　it　not　his　right　to　live　as　they；a

pure　life；　a　good；　true…hearted　life；　full　of　beauty　and　kind

words？　　He　only　wanted　to　know　how　to　use　the　strength　within

him。　　His　heart　warmed；　as　he　thought　of　it。　　He　suffered

himself　to　think　of　it　longer。　　If　he　took　the　money？



Then　he　saw　himself　as　he　might　be；　strong；　helpful；　kindly。

The　night　crept　on；　as　this　one　image　slowly　evolved　itself　from

the　crowd　of　other　thoughts　and　stood　triumphant。　　He　looked　at

it。　　As　he　might　be！　　What　wonder；　if　it　blinded　him　to

delirium；the　madness　that　underlies　all　revolution；　all

progress；　and　all　fall？



You　laugh　at　the　shallow　temptation？　　You　see　the　error

underlying　its　argument　so　clearly；that　to　him　a　true　life　was

one　of　full　development　rather　than　self…restraint？　　that　he　was

deaf　to　the　higher　tone　in　a　cry　of　voluntary　suffering　for

truth's　sake　than　in　the　fullest　flow　of　spontaneous　harmony？

I　do　not　plead　his　cause。　　I　only　want　to　show　you　the　mote　in

my　brother's　eye：　　then　you　can　see　clearly　to　take　it　out。



The　money；there　it　lay　on　his　knee；　a　little　blotted　slip　of

paper；　nothing　in　itself；　used　to　raise　him　out　of　the　pit；

something　straight　from　God's　hand。　　A　thief！　　Well；　what　was　it

to　be　a　thief？　　He　met　the　question　at　last；　face　to　face；

wiping　the　clammy　drops　of　sweat　from　his　forehead。　　God　made

this　moneythe　fresh　air；　toofor　his　children's　use。　　He

never　made　the　difference　between　poor　and　rich。　　The　Something

who　looked　down　on　him　that　moment　through　the　cool　gray　sky　had

a　kindly　face；　he　knew；loved　his　children　alike。　　Oh；　he　knew

that！



There　were　times　when　the　soft　floods　of　color　in　the　crimson

and　purple　flames；　or　the　clear　depth　of　amber　in　the　water

below　the　bridge；　had　somehow　given　him　a　glimpse　of　another

world　than　this；of　an　infinite　depth　of　beauty　and　of　quiet

somewhere；somewhere；　a　depth　of　quiet　and　rest　and　love。

Looking　up　now；　it　became　strangely　real。　　The　sun　had　sunk

quite　below　the　hills；　but　his　last　rays　struck　upward；　touching

the　zenith。　　The　fog　had　risen；　and　the　town　and　river　were

steeped　in　its　thick；　gray　damp；　but　overhead；　the　sun…touched

smoke…clouds　opened　like　a　cleft　ocean；shifting；　rolling　seas

of　crimson　mist；　waves　of　billowy　silver　veined　with　blood…

scarlet；　inner　depths　unfathomable　of　glancing　light。　　Wolfe's

artist…eye　grew　drunk　with　color。　　The　gates　of　that　other

world！　　Fading；　flashing　before　him　now！　　What；　in　that　world　of

Beauty；　Content；　and　Right；　were　the　petty　laws；　the　mine　and

thine；　of　mill…owners　and　mill　hands？



A　consciousness　of　power　stirred　within　him。　　He　stood　up。　　A

man；he　thought；　stretching　out　his　hands；free　to　work；　to

live；　to　love！　　Free！　　His　right！　　He　folded　the　scrap　of　paper

in　his　hand。　　As　his　nervous　fingers　took　it　in；　limp　and

blotted；　so　his　soul　took　in　the　mean　temptation；　lapped　it　in

fancied　rights；　in　dreams　of　improved　existences；　drifting　and

endless　as　the　cloud…seas　of　color。　　Clutching　it；　as　if　the

tightness　of　his　hold　would　strengthen　his　sense　of　possession；

he　went　aimlessly　down　the　street。　　It　was　his　watch　at　the

mill。　　He　need　not　go；　need　never　go　again；　thank　God！shaking

off　the　thought　with　unspeakable　loathing。



Shall　I　go　over　the　history　of　the　hours　of　that　night？　　how　the

man　wandered　from　one　to　another　of　his　old　haunts；　with　a　half…

consciousness　of　bidding　them　farewell；lanes　and　alleys　and

back…yards　where　the　mill…hands　lodged；noting；　with　a　new

eagerness；　the　filth　and　drunkenness；　the　pig…pens；　the　ash…

heaps　covered　with　potato…skins；　the　bloated；　pimpled　women　at

the　doors；　with　a　new　disgust；　a　new　sense　of　sudden　triumph；

and；　under　all；　a　new；　vague　dread；　unknown　before；　smothered

down；　kept　under；　but　still　there？　　It　left　him　but　once　during

the　night；　when；　for　the　second　time　in　his　life；　he　entered　a

church。　　It　was　a　sombre　Gothic　pile；　where　the　stained　light

lost　itself　in　far…retreating　arches；　built　to　meet　the

requirements　and　sympathies　of　a　far　other　class　than　Wolfe's。

Yet　it　touched；　moved　him　uncontrollably。　　The　distances；　the

shadows；　the　still；　marble　figures；　the　mass　of　silent　kneeling

worshippers；　the　mysterious　music；　thrilled；　lifted　his　soul

with　a　wonderful　pain。　　Wolfe　forgot　himself；　forgot　the　new

life　he　was　going　to　live；　the　mean　terror　gnawing　underneath。

The　voice　of　the　speaker　strengthened　the　charm；　it　was　clear；

feeling；　full；　strong。　　An　old　man；　who　had　lived　much；　suffered

much；　whose　brain　was　keenly　alive；　dominant；　whose　heart　was

summer…warm　with　charity。　　He　taught　it　to…night。　　He　held　up

Humanity　in　its　grand　total；　showed　the　great　world…cancer　to

his　people。　　Who　could　show　it　better？　　He　was　a　Christian

reformer；　he　had　studied　the　age　thoroughly；　his　outlook　at　man

had　been　free；　world…wide；　over　all　time。　　His　faith　stood

sublime　upon　the　Rock　of　Ages；　his　fiery　zeal　guided　vast

schemes　by　which　the　Gospel　was　to　be　preached　to　all　nations。

How　did　he　preach　it　to…night？　　In　burning；　light…laden　words　he

painted　Jesus；　the　incarnate　Life；　Love；　the　universal　Man：

words　that　became　reality　in　the　lives　of　these　people；that

lived　again　in　beautiful　words　and　actions；　trifling；　but

heroic。　　Sin；　as　he　defined　it；　was　a　real　foe　to　them；　their

trials；　temptations；　were　his。　　His　words　passed　far　over　the

furnace…tender's　grasp；　toned　to　suit　another　class　of　culture；

they　sounded　in　his　ears　a　very　pleasant　song　in　an　unknown

tongue。　　He　meant　to　cure　this　world…cancer　with　a　steady　eye

that　had　never　glared　with　hunger；　and　a　hand　that　neither

poverty　nor　strychnine…whiskey　had　taught　to　shake。　　In　this

morbid；　distorted　heart　of　the　Welsh　puddler　he　had　failed。



Eighteen　centuries　ago；　the　Master　of　this　man　tried　reform　in

the　streets　of　a　city　as　crowded　and　vile　as　this；　and　did　not

fail。　　His　disciple；　showing　Him　to…night　to　cultured　hearers；

showing　the　clearness　of　the　God…power　acting　through　Him；

shrank　back　from　one　coarse　fact；　that　in　birth　and　habit　the

man　Christ　was　thrown　up　from　the　lowest　of　the　people：　　his

flesh；　their　flesh；　their　blood；　his　blood；　tempted　like　them；

to　brutalize　day　by　day；　to　lie；　to　steal：　　the　actual　slime　and

want　of　their　hourly　life；　and　the　wine…press　he　trod　alone。



Yet；　is　there　no　meaning　in　this　perpetually　covered　truth？　　If

the　son　of　the　ca