the dwelling place of ligh-第70部分

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note　of　hatred。　　And　what　she　seemed　to　see　in　it；　confronting　her；　were
the　hatred　and　despair　of　her　own　soul！　　The　man　might　have　been　a
Hungarian　or　a　Pole；　the　breadth　of　his　chin　was　accentuated　by　a　wide；
black　moustache；　his　attitude　was　tense；that　of　a　maddened　beast　ready
to　spring　at　the　soldier　in　front　of　him。　　He　was　plainly　one　of　those
who　had　reached　the　mental　limit　of　endurance。

In　contrast　with　this　foreigner；　confronting　him；　a　young　lieutenant
stood　motionless；　his　head　cocked　on　one　side；　his　hand　grasping　the　club
held　a　little　behind　him；　his　glance　meeting　the　other's　squarely；　but
with　a　different　quality　of　defiance。　　All　his　faculties　were　on　the
alert。　　He　wore　no　overcoat；　and　the　uniform　fitting　close　to　his　figure；
the　broad…brimmed　campaign　hat　of　felt　served　to　bring　into　relief　the
physical　characteristics　of　the　American　Anglo…Saxon；　of　the
individualist　who　became　the　fighting　pioneer。　　But　Janet；　save　to
register　the　presence　of　the　intense　antagonism　between　the　two；　scarcely
noticed　her　fellow　countryman。。。。　　Every　moment　she　expected　to　see　the
black　man　spring；and　yet　movement　would　have　marred　the　drama　of　that
consuming　hatred。。。。

Then；　by　one　of　those　bewildering；　kaleidoscopic　shifts　to　which　crowds
are　subject；　the　scene　changed；　more　troops　arrived；　little　by　little　the
people　were　dispersed　to　drift　together　again　by　chancein　smaller
numbersseveral　blocks　away。　　Perhaps　a　hundred　and　fifty　were　scattered
over　the　space　formed　by　the　intersection　of　two　streets；　where　three　or
four　special　policemen　with　night　sticks　urged　them　on。　　Not　a　riot；　or
anything　approaching　it。　　The　police　were　jeered；　but　the　groups；
apparently；　had　already　begun　to　scatter；　when　from　the　triangular
vestibule　of　a　saloon　on　the　corner　darted　a　flame　followed　by　an　echoing
report；　a　woman　bundled　up　in　a　shawl　screamed　and　sank　on　the　snow。　　For
an　instant　the　little　French…Canadian　policeman　whom　the　shot　had　missed
gazed　stupidly　down　at　her。。。。

As　Janet　ran　along　the　dark　pavements　the　sound　of　the　shot　and　of　the
woman's　shriek　continued　to　ring　in　her　ears。　　At　last　she　stopped　in
front　of　the　warehouse　beyond　Mr。　Tiernan's　shop；　staring　at　the　darkened
windows　of　the　flatof　the　front　room　in　which　her　mother　now　slept
alone。　　For　a　minute　she　stood　looking　at　these　windows；　as　though
hypnotized　by　some　message　they　conveyedthe　answer　to　a　question
suggested　by　the　incident　that　had　aroused　and　terrified　her。　　They　drew
her；　as　in　a　trance；　across　the　street；　she　opened　the　glass…panelled
door；　remembering　mechanically　the　trick　it　had　of　not　quite　closing；
turned　and　pushed　it　to　and　climbed　the　stairs。　　In　the　diningroom　the
metal　lamp；　brightly　polished；　was　burning　as　usual；　its　light　falling　on
the　chequered　red　table…cloth；　on　her　father's　empty　chair；　on　that
somewhat　battered　heirloom；　the　horsehair　sofa。　　All　was　so　familiar；　and
yet　so　amazingly　unfamiliar；　so　silent！　　At　this　time　Edward　should　be
reading　the　Banner；　her　mother　bustling　in　and　out；　setting　the　table　for
supper。　　But　not　a　dish　was　set。　　The　ticking　of　the　ancient　clock　only
served　to　intensify　the　silence。　　Janet　entered；　almost　on　tiptoe；　made
her　way　to　the　kitchen　door；　and　looked　in。　　The　stove　was　polished；　the
pans　bright　upon　the　wall；　and　Hannah　was　seated　in　a　corner；　her　hands
folded　across　a　spotless　apron。　　Her　scant　hair　was　now　pure　white；　her
dress　seemed　to　have　fallen　away　from　her　wasted　neck；　which　was　like　a
trefoil　column。

〃Is　that　you；　Janet？　　You　hain't　seen　anything　of　your　father？〃

The　night　before　Janet　had　heard　this　question；　and　she　had　been　puzzled
as　to　its　meaningwhether　in　the　course　of　the　day　she　had　seen　her
father；　or　whether　Hannah　thought　he　was　coming　home。

〃He's　at　the　mill；　mother。　　You　know　he　has　to　stay　there。〃

〃I　know；〃　replied　Hannah；　in　a　tone　faintly　reminiscent　of　the　old
aspersion。　　〃But　I've　got　everything　ready　for　him　in　case　he　should
comeany　timeif　the　strikers　hain't　killed　him。〃

〃But　he's　safe　where　he　is。〃

〃I　presume　they　will　try　to　kill　him；　before　they　get　through；〃　Hannah
continued　evenly。　　〃But　in　case　he　should　come　at　any　time；　and　I'm　not
here；　you　tell　him　all　those　Bumpus　papers　are　put　away　in　the　drawer　of
that　old　chest；　in　the　corner。　　I　can't　think　what　he'd　do　without　those
papers。　　That　is；〃　she　added；　〃if　you're　here　yourself。〃

〃Why　shouldn't　you　be　here？〃　asked　Janet；　rather　sharply。

〃I　dunno；　I　seem　to　have　got　through。〃　　She　glanced　helplessly　around　the
kitchen。　　〃There　don't　seem　to　be　much　left　to　keep　me　alive。。。。　　I　guess
you'll　be　wanting　your　supper；　won't　you？　　You　hain't　often　home　these
dayswhatever　it　is　you're　doing。　　I　didn't　expect　you。〃

Janet　did　not　answer　at　once。

〃II　have　to　go　out　again；　mother；〃　she　said。

Hannah　accepted　the　answer　as　she　had　accepted　every　other　negative　in
life；　great　and　small。

〃Well；　I　guessed　you　would。〃

Janet　made　a　step　toward　her。

〃Mother！〃　she　said；　but　Hannah　gazed　at　her　uncomprehendingly。　　Janet
stooped　convulsively；　and　kissed　her。　　Straightening　up；　she　stood
looking　down　at　her　mother　for　a　few　moments；　and　went　out　of　the　room；
pausing　in　the　dining…room；　to　listen；　but　Hannah　apparently　had　not
stirred。　　She　took　the　box　of　matches　from　its　accustomed　place　on　the
shelf　beside　the　clock；　entered　the　dark　bedroom　in　the　front　of　the
flat；　closing　the　door　softly　behind　her。　　The　ghostly　blue　light　from　a
distant　arc　came　slanting　in　at　the　window；　glinting　on　the　brass　knobs
of　the　chest　of　drawers…another　Bumpus　heirloom。　　She　remembered　that
chest　from　early　childhood；　it　was　one　of　the　few　pieces　that；　following
them　in　all　their　changes　of　residence；　had　been　faithful　to　the　end：　she
knew　everything　in　it；　and　the　place　for　everything。　　Drawing　a　match
from　the　box；　she　was　about　to　turn　on　the　gasbut　the　light　from　the
arc　would　suffice。　　As　she　made　her　way　around　the　walnut　bed　she　had　a
premonition　of　poignant　anguish　as　yet　unrealized；　of　anguish　being　held
at　bay　by　a　stronger；　fiercer；　more　imperative　emotion　now　demanding
expression；　refusing　at　last　to　be　denied。　　She　opened　the　top　drawer　of
the　chest；　the　drawer　in　which　Hannah；　breaking　tradition；　had　put　the
Bumpus　genealogy。　　Edward　had　never　kept　it　there。　　Would　the　other
things　be　in　place？　　Groping　with　her　hands　in　the　left…hand　corner；　her
fingers　clasped　exultantly　something　heavy；　something　wrapped　carefully
in　layers　of　flannel。　　She　had　feared　her　father　might　have　taken　it　to
the　mill！　　She　drew　it　out；　unwound　the　flannel；　and　held　to　the　light　an
old…fashioned　revolver；　the　grease　glistening　along　its　barrel。　　She
remembered；　too；　that　the　cartridges　had　lain　beside　it；　and　thrusting
her　hand　once　more　into　the　drawer　found　the　box；　extracting　several；　and
replacing　the　rest；　closed　the　drawer；　and　crept　through　the　dining…room
to　her　bedroom；　where　she　lit　the　gas　in　order　to　examine　the　weapon
finally　contriving；　more　by　accident　than　skill；　to　break　it。　　The
cartridges；　of　course；　fitted　into　the　empty　cylinder。　　But　before
inserting　them　she　closed　the　pistol　once　more；　cocked　it；　and　held　it
out。　　Her　arm　trembled　violently　as　she　pulled　the　trigger。　　Could　she　do
it？　　As　though　to　refute　this　doubt　of　her　ability　to　carry　out　an　act
determined　upon；　she　broke　the　weapon　once　more；　loaded　and　closed　it；
and　thrust　it　in　the　pocket　of　her　coat。　　Then；　washing　the　grease　from
her　hands；　she　put　on　her　gloves；　and　was　about　to　turn　out　the　light
when　she　saw　reflected　in　the　glass　the　red　button　of　the　I。W。W。　still
pinned　on　her　coat。　　This　she　tore　off；　and　flung　on　the　bureau。

When　she　had　kissed　her　mother；　when　she　had　stood　hesitatingly　in　the
darkness　of　the　familiar　front　bedroom　in　the　presence　of　unsummoned
memories　of　a　home　she　had　believed　herself　to　resent　and　despise；　she
had　nearly　faltered。　　But　once　in　the　street；　this　weakness　suddenly
vanished；　was　replaced　by　a　sense　of　wrong　that　now　took　complete　and
furious　possession　of　her；　driving　her　like　a　gale　at　her　back。　　She
scarcely　felt　on　her　face　the　fine　rain　that　had　begun　to　fall　once　more。
Her　feet　were　accustomed　to　the　way。　　When　she　had　turned　down　West
Street　and　almost　gained　the　canal；　it　was　with　a　shock　of　surprise　that
she　found　herself　confronted　by　a　man　in　a　long　cape　who　held　a　rifle　and
barred　her　path。　　She　stared　at　him　as　at　an　apparition。

〃You　can't　get　by　here；〃　he　said。　　〃Don't　you　know　that？〃

She　did　not　reply。　　He　continued　to　look　at　her；　and　presently　asked；　in
a　gentler　tone：

〃Where　did　you　wish　to　go；　lady？〃

〃Into　the　mill；〃　she　replied；　〃to　the　offices。〃

〃But　there　can't　anybody　go　through　here　unless　they　have　a　pass。　　I'm
sorry；　but　that's　the　order。〃

Her　answer　came　so　readily　as　to　surprise　her。

〃I　was　Mr。　Ditmar's　private　stenographer。　　I　have　to　see　him。〃

The　sentry　hesitated；　and　then　addressed　another　soldier；　who　was　near
the　bridge。

〃Hi；　sergeant！〃　he　called。　　The　sergeant　came　upa　conscientious　Boston
clerk　who　had　joined　the　militia　from　a　sense　of　duty　and　a　need　for
exercise。　　While　the　sentry　explained　the　matter　he　gazed　at　Janet。　　Then
be　said　politely：

〃I'm　sorry；　Miss；　but　I　can't　disobey　orders。〃

〃But　can't　you　send　word　to　Mr。　Ditmar；　and　tell　him　I　want　to　see　him？〃
she　asked。

〃Why；　I　guess　so；〃　he　answered；　after　a　moment。　　〃What　name　shall　I　say？〃

〃Miss　Bumpus。〃

〃Bumpus；〃　he　repeated。　　〃That's　the　gatekeeper's　name。〃

〃I'm　his　daughterbut　I　want　to　see　Mr。　Ditmar。〃

〃Well；〃　said　the　sergeant；　〃I'm　sure　it's　all　right；　but　I'll　have　to
send　in　anyway。　　Orders　are　orders。　　You　understand？〃

She　nodded　as　he　departed。　　She　saw　him　cross　the　bridge　like　a　ghost
through　the　white　mist　rising　from　the　canal。　　And　through　the　mist　she
could　make　out　the　fortresslike　mass　of　the　mill　itself；　and　the　blurred；
distorted　lights　in　the　paymaster's　offices　smeared　on　the　white　curtain
of　the　vapour。

〃Nasty　weather；〃　the　sentry　remarked；　in　friendly　fashion。　　He　appeared
now；　despite　his　uniform；　as　a　good…natured；　ungainly　youth。

Janet　nodded。

〃You'd　ought　to　have　brought　an　umbrella；〃