a mortal antipathy- 第14部分

burn　this　letter　right　upthere　's　a　dear　good　girl。〃



It　is　to　be　hoped　that　no　reader　will　doubt　the　genuineness　of　this

letter。　　There　are　not　quite　so　many　〃awfuls〃　and　〃awfullys〃　as　one

expects　to　find　in　young　ladies'　letters；　but　there　are　two　〃weirds；〃

which　may　be　considered　a　fair　allowance。　　How　it　happened　that

〃jolly〃　did　not　show　itself　can　hardly　be　accounted　for；　no　doubt　it

turns　up　two　or　three　times　at　least　in　the　postscript。



Here　is　an　extract　from　another　letter。　　This　was　from　one　of　the

students　of　Stoughton　University　to　a　friend　whose　name　as　it　was

written　on　the　envelope　was　Mr。　Frank　Mayfield。　　The　old　postmaster

who　found　fault　with　Miss　〃Lulu's〃　designation　would　probably　have

quarrelled　with　this　address；　if　it　had　come　under　his　eye。　　〃Frank〃

is　a　very　pretty；　pleasant…sounding　name；　and　it　is　not　strange　that

many　persons　use　it　in　common　conversation　all　their　days　when

speaking　of　a　friend。　　Were　they　really　christened　by　that　name；　any

of　these　numerous　Franks？　　Perhaps　they　were；　and　if　so　there　is

nothing　to　be　said。　　But　if　not；　was　the　baptismal　name　Francis　or

Franklin？　　The　mind　is　apt　to　fasten　in　a　very　perverse　and

unpleasant　way　upon　this　question；　which　too　often　there　is　no

possible　way　of　settling。　　One　might　hope；　if　he　outlived　the　bearer

of　the　appellation；　to　get　at　the　fact；　but　since　even　gravestones

have　learned　to　use　the　names　belonging　to　childhood　and　infancy　in

their　solemn　record；　the　generation　which　docks　its　Christian　names

in　such　an　un…Christian　way　will　bequeath　whole　churchyards　full　of

riddles　to　posterity。　　How　it　will　puzzle　and　distress　the　historians

and　antiquarians　of　a　coming　generation　to　settle　what　was　the　real

name　of　Dan　and　Bert　and　Billy；　which　last　is　legible　on　a　white

marble　slab；　raised　in　memory　of　a　grown　person；　in　a　certain　burial…

ground　in　a　town　in　Essex　County；　Massachusetts！



But　in　the　mean　time　we　are　forgetting　the　letter　directed　to　Mr。

Frank　Mayfield。





〃DEAR　FRANK；Hooray！　Hurrah！　　Rah！



〃I　have　made　the　acquaintance　of　'The　Mysterious　Stranger'！　　It

happened　by　a　queer　sort　of　accident；　which　came　pretty　near

relieving　you　of　the　duty　of　replying　to　this　letter。　　I　was　out　in

my　little　boat；　which　carries　a　sail　too　big　for　her；　as　I　know　and

ought　to　have　remembered。　　One　of　those　fitful　flaws　of　wind　to　which

the　lake　is　so　liable　struck　the　sail　suddenly；　and　over　went　my

boat。　　My　feet　got　tangled　in　the　sheet　somehow；　and　I　could　not　get

free。　　I　had　hard　work　to　keep　my　head　above　water；　and　I　struggled

desperately　to　escape　from　my　toils；　for　if　the　boat　were　to　go　down

I　should　be　dragged　down　with　her。　　I　thought　of　a　good　many　things

in　the　course　of　some　four　or　five　minutes；　I　can　tell　you；　and　I　got

a　lesson　about　time　better　than　anything　Kant　and　all　the　rest　of

them　have　to　say　of　it。　　After　I　had　been　there　about　an　ordinary

lifetime；　I　saw　a　white　canoe　making　toward　me；　and　I　knew　that　our

shy　young　gentleman　was　coming　to　help　me；　and　that　we　should　become

acquainted　without　an　introduction。　　So　it　was；　sure　enough。　　He　saw

what　the　trouble　was；　managed　to　disentangle　my　feet　without　drowning

me　in　the　process　or　upsetting　his　little　flimsy　craft；　and；　as　I　was

somewhat　tired　with　my　struggle；　took　me　in　tow　and　carried　me　to　the

landing　where　he　kept　his　canoe。　　I　can't　say　that　there　is　anything

odd　about　his　manners　or　his　way　of　talk。　　I　judge　him　to　be　a　native

of　one　of　our　Northern　States；perhaps　a　New　Englander。　　He　has

lived　abroad　during　some　parts　of　his　life。　　He　is　not　an　artist；　as

it　was　at　one　time　thought　he　might　be。　　He　is　a　good…looking　fellow；

well　developed；　manly　in　appearance；　with　nothing　to　excite　special

remark　unless　it　be　a　certain　look　of　anxiety　or　apprehension　which

comes　over　him　from　time　to　time。　　You　remember　our　old　friend　Squire

B。；　whose　companion　was　killed　by　lightning　when　he　was　standing

close　to　him。　　You　know　the　look　he　had　whenever　anything　like　a

thundercloud　came　up　in　the　sky。　　Well；　I　should　say　there　was　a　look

like　that　came　over　this　Maurice　Kirkwood's　face　every　now　and　then。

I　noticed　that　he　looked　round　once　or　twice　as　if　to　see　whether

some　object　or　other　was　in　sight。　　There　was　a　little　rustling　in

the　grass　as　if　of　footsteps；　and　this　look　came　over　his　features。

A　rabbit　ran　by　us；　and　I　watched　to　see　if　he　showed　any　sign　of

that　antipathy　we　have　heard　so　much　of；　but　he　seemed　to　be　pleased

watching　the　creature。



〃If　you　ask　me　what　my　opinion　is　about　this　Maurice　Kirkwood；　I

think　he　is　eccentric　in　his　habit　of　life；　but　not　what　they　call　a

'crank'　exactly。　　He　talked　well　enough　about　such　matters　as　we

spoke　of；the　lake；　the　scenery　in　general；　the　climate。　　I　asked

him　to　come　over　and　take　a　look　at　the　college。　　He　did　n't　promise；

but　I　should　not　be　surprised　if　I　should　get　him　over　there　some

day。　　I　asked　him　why　he　did　n't　go　to　the　Pansophian　meetings。　　He

did　n't　give　any　reason；　but　he　shook　his　head　in　a　very　peculiar

way；　as　much　as　to　say　that　it　was　impossible。



〃On　the　whole；　I　think　it　is　nothing　more　than　the　same　feeling　of

dread　of　human　society；　or　dislike　for　it；　which　under　the　name　of

religion　used　to　drive　men　into　caves　and　deserts。　　What　a　pity　that

Protestantism　does　not　make　special　provision　for　all　the　freaks　of

individual　character！　　If　we　had　a　little　more　faith　and　a　few　more

caverns；　or　convenient　places　for　making　them；　we　should　have　hermits

in　these　holes　as　thick　as　woodchucks　or　prairie　dogs。　　I　should　like

to　know　if　you　never　had　the　feeling；



　　　　　'Oh；　that　the　desert　were　my　dwelling…place！'



I　know　what　your　answer　will　be；　of　course。　　You　will　say；

'Certainly；



　　　　　'With　one　fair　spirit　for　my　minister；〃'



but　I　mean　alone；all　alone。　　Don't　you　ever　feel　as　if　you　should

like　to　have　been　a　pillar…saint　in　the　days　when　faith　was　as　strong

as　lye　（spelt　with　a　y）；　instead　of　being　as　weak　as　dish…water？

（Jerry　is　looking　over　my　shoulder；　and　says　this　pun　is　too　bad　to

send；　and　a　disgrace　to　the　Universitybut　never　mind。）　I　often　feel

as　if　I　should　like　to　roost　on　a　pillar　a　hundred　feet　high；yes；

and　have　it　soaped　from　top　to　bottom。　　Wouldn't　it　be　fun　to　look

down　at　the　bores　and　the　duns？　　Let　us　get　up　a　pillar…roosters'

association。　　（Jerrystill　looking　over　says　there　is　an　absurd

contradiction　in　the　idea。）



〃What　a　matter…of…fact　idiot　Jerry　is！



〃How　do　you　like　looking　over；　Mr。　Inspector　general？〃



The　reader　will　not　get　much　information　out　of　this　lively　young

fellow's　letter；　but　he　may　get　a　little。　　It　is　something　to　know

that　the　mysterious　resident　of　Arrowhead　Village　did　not　look　nor

talk　like　a　crazy　person；　that　he　was　of　agreeable　aspect　and

address；　helpful　when　occasion　offered；　and　had　nothing　about　him；　so

far　as　yet　appeared；　to　prevent　his　being　an　acceptable　member　of

society。



Of　course　the　people　in　the　village　could　never　be　contented　without

learning　everything　there　was　to　be　learned　about　their　visitor。　　All

the　city　papers　were　examined　for　advertisements。　　If　a　cashier　had

absconded；　if　a　broker　had　disappeared；　if　a　railroad　president　was

missing；　some　of　the　old　stories　would　wake　up　and　get　a　fresh

currency；　until　some　new　circumstance　gave　rise　to　a　new　hypothesis。

Unconscious　of　all　these　inquiries　and　fictions；　Maurice　Kirkwood

lived　on　in　his　inoffensive　and　unexplained　solitude；　and　seemed

likely　to　remain　an　unsolved　enigma。　　The　〃Sachem〃　of　the　boating

girls　became　the　〃Sphinx　〃　of　the　village　ramblers；　and　it　was　agreed

on　all　hands　that　Egypt　did　not　hold　any　hieroglyphics　harder　to　make

out　than　the　meaning　of　this　young　man's　odd　way　of　living。









V



THE　ENIGMA　STUDIED。



It　was　a　curious；　if　it　was　not　a　suspicious；　circumstance　that　a

young　man；　seemingly　in　good　health；　of　comely　aspect；　looking　as　if

made　for　companionship；　should　keep　himself　apart　from　all　the　world

around　him　in　a　place　where　there　was　a　general　feeling　of　good

neighborhood　and　a　pleasant　social　atmosphere。　　The　Public　Library

was　a　central　point　which　brought　people　together。　　The　Pansophian

Society　did　a　great　deal　to　make　them　acquainted　with　each　other　for

many　of　the　meetings　were　open　to　outside　visitors；　and　the　subjects

discussed　in　the　meetings　furnished　the　material　for　conversation　in

their　intervals。　　A　card　of　invitation　had　been　sent　by　the　Secretary

to　Maurice；　in　answer　to　which　Paolo　carried　back　a　polite　note　of

regret。　　The　paper　had　a　narrow　rim　of　black；　implying　apparently

some　loss　of　relative　or　friend；　but　not　any　very　recent　and　crushing

bereavement。　　This　refusal　to　come　to　the　meetings　of　the　society　was

only　what　was　expected。　　It　was　proper　to　ask　him；　but　his　declining

the　invitation　showed　that　he　did　not　wish　for　attentions　or

courtesies。　　There　was　not