I spare you common curses.
MRS. BROWNING.
It was not long after this that the storm began to abate1. Sunshine took the place of clouds, and I was enabled to make my way back to the town at the risk of nothing worse than wet feet. I went at once to my boarding-house. Though I was expected back at the Pollards’, though my presence seemed almost necessary there, I felt that it would be impossible for me to enter their door till something of the shadow that now enveloped2 their name had fallen away. I therefore sent them word that unlooked-for circumstances compelled me to remain at home for the present; and having thus dismissed one anxiety from my mind, set myself to the task of gleaning3 what knowledge I could of the idiot boy.
The result was startling. He was, it seemed, a real idiot — or so had always been regarded by those who had known him from his birth. Not one of the ugly, mischievous4 sort, but a gentle, chuckling5 vacant~brained boy, who loved to run the streets and mingle6 his harmless laughter with the shouts of playing children and the noise of mills and manufactories.
He was an orphan7, but was neither poor nor dependent, for — and here was where the fact came in that astonished me — he had for protector a twin sister whose wits were as acute as his were dull; a sister who through years of orphanage8 had cherished and supported him, working sometimes for that purpose in the factories, and sometimes simply with her needle at home. They lived in a nest of a cottage on the edge of the town, and had the sympathy of all, though not perhaps the full liking9 of any. For Rhoda, the sister, was a being of an unique order, who, while arousing the interest of a few, baffled the comprehension of the many. She was a problem; a creature out of keeping with her belongings10 and the circumstances in which she was placed. An airy, lissom11, subtle specimen12 of woman, whose very beauty was of an unknown order, causing as much inquiry13 as admiration14. A perfect blonde like her brother, she had none of the sweetness and fragility that usually accompanies this complexion15. On the contrary, there was something bizarre in her whole appearance, and especially in the peculiar16 expression of her eye, that awakened18 the strangest feelings and produced even in the minds of those who saw her engaged in the most ordinary occupations of life an impression of remoteness that almost amounted to the uncanny. The fact that she affected19 brilliant colors and clothed both herself and brother in garments of a wellnigh fantastic make, added to this impression, and gave perhaps some excuse to those persons who regarded her as being as abnormally constituted as her brother, finding it impossible, I suppose, to reconcile waywardness with industry, and a taste for the rich and beautiful with a poverty so respectable, it scarcely made itself known for the reality it was. A blonde gypsy some called her, a dangerous woman some others; and the latter would undoubtedly20 have been correct had the girl possessed21 less pride of independence or been unhampered, as she was untrammelled, by the sense of responsibility towards her imbecile brother. As it was, more than one mother had had reason to ask why her son wore such a moody22 brow after returning from a certain quarter of the town, and at one time gossip had not hesitated to declare that Dwight Pollard — the haughty23 Dwight Pollard — had not been ashamed to be seen entering her door, though every one knew that no one stepped under its wreath of vines except their intentions were as honorable as the beauty, if not the poverty, of its owner demanded.
When I heard this, and heard also that he visited her no more, I seemed to have gained some enlightenment as to the odd and contradictory24 actions of my famous idiot boy. He loved his sister, and was in some way imbued25 with a sense that she had been wronged. He was, therefore, jealous of any one who had, or seemed to have, gained the attention of the man who had possibly forsaken26 her. Yet even with this explanation of his conduct, there was much for which I could not account, making my intended interview with the sister a matter to be more or less apprehended27.
It was therefore with a composure altogether outward and superficial that I started for the quaint28 and tiny cottage which had been pointed29 out to me as the abode30 of these remarkable31 twins. I reached it just as the clock struck three, and was immediately impressed, as my informants evidently expected me to be, by the air of poetry and refinement32 that characterized even its humble33 exterior34. But it was not till I had knocked at the door and been ushered35 into the house by the idiot brother, that my real astonishment36 began. For though the room in which I found myself did not, as I was afterwards assured, contain a single rich article, it certainly had the effect of luxuriousness37 upon the eye; and had it not been for my inward agitation38 and suspense39, would have produced a sense of languid pleasure, scarcely to be looked for in the abode of a simple working-girl. As it was, I was dimly conscious of a slight relief in the keen tension of my feelings, and turned with almost a sensation of hope to the boy who was smiling and grimacing40 beside me. But here another shock awaited me, for this boy was not the one I had seen at the mill barely two hours ago, or, rather, if it were the same — and the identity of his features, figure, and dress with those I knew so well, seemed to proclaim him to be — he was in such a different mood now as to appear like another being. Laughing, merry, and inane41, he bore on his brow no sign nor suggestion of the fierce passion I had seen there, nor did his countenance42 change, though I looked at him steadily43 and long with a gaze that was any thing but in keeping with his seemingly innocent mirth.
“It is not the boy I have known,” I suddenly decided44 in my mind; and I cannot say in what wild surmises45 I might have indulged, if at that moment the door at my back had not opened and a figure stepped in which at the first glance attracted my whole attention and absorbed all my thought.
Imagine a woman, lithe46, blonde, beautiful, intense; with features regular as the carver’s hand could make them, but informed with a spirit so venomous, passionate47, and perverse48, that you lost sight of her beauty in your wonder at the formidable nature of the character she betrayed. Then see her dressed as no other woman ever dressed before, in a robe of scarlet49 of a cut and make quite its own, and conceive, if you can, the agitation I felt as I realized that in her I beheld50 my rival, my antagonist51, the enemy of Dwight Pollard’s peace and mine.
That her face, even the hatred52 that visibly contracted it as her eyes met mine, were familiar to me in the countenance and expression of the boy I had met, went for nothing. The beauty and malice53 of a seeming imbecile, and the same characteristics in a woman subtle and decided as this, awaken17 very different emotions in the mind. Though I had seen that same brow corrugated54 before, it was like a revelation to behold55 it now, and watch how the rosy56 lips took a straight line and the half-shut, mysterious eyes burned like a thread of light, as she stretched out one white hand and asked half imperiously, half threateningly:
“Who are you, and for what do you come to me?”
“I am Constance Sterling57,” I retorted, satisfied that nothing short of the heroic treatment would avail with this woman; “and if I do not mistake, I think you know very well why I come here.”
“Indeed!” came in something like a hiss58 from between her set lips. And in one short instant all that was best in her and all that was worst became suddenly visible, as turning to her softly chuckling brother, she motioned him gently out of the room, and then turning to me, advanced a step and said: “Will you explain yourself, Miss — or is it Mrs. Constance Sterling?”
“I will explain myself,” I returned, wondering, as I saw her cheeks pale and her eyes emit strange and fitful sparks, if I exerted any such influence over her as she did over me. “I said I thought you knew why I came here. I said this, because this is not the first time we have met, nor am I the first one who has presumed to address the other in a tone that to a sensitive ear sounded like menace. The idiot boy ——”
“We will leave my brother out of the discussion,” she broke in, in a voice so distinct I scarcely noticed that it was nothing but a whisper.
“I am not alluding59 to your brother,” I declared, meeting her eyes with a look steady as her own, and I hope more open.
“Oh, I see,” she murmured; and she took another step, while the flash of her glance cut like a knife. “You accuse me then ——”
“Of assuming a disguise to spy upon Dwight Pollard.”
It was a well-sped shaft60, and quivered alive and burning in her heart of hearts. She gave a spring like the panther she seemed at that minute, but instantly recovered herself, and launching, upon me the strangest smile, mockingly exclaimed:
“You are a brave woman.” Then as I did not quail61 before her passion, drew up her slight figure to its height and said: “We are worthy62 of each other, you and I. Tell me what you want.”
Then I felt my own cheek turn pale, and I was fain to sit upon the pile of cushions that were arranged in one corner for a seat.
“What I want?” I repeated. “I want to know how you dared put in language the insinuations which you hung up on the door of the old mill this morning?”
Her eyes, narrowed, as I have said, in her seemingly habitual63 desire to keep their secrets to herself, flashed wide open at this, while a low and mirthless laugh escaped her lips.
“So my labor64 was not entirely65 wasted!” she cried. “You saw —”
“Both the lines and the writer,” I completed, relentlessly66 preserving the advantage I felt myself to have gained —“the lines before they were defaced by the storm, the writer as she picked up the useless paper and went away.”
“So!” she commented, with another echo of that joyless laughter; “there are two spies instead of one in this game!”
“There are two women instead of one who know your enmity and purpose,” I retorted.
“How came you at the mill?” she suddenly asked, after a moment of silent communion with her own repressed soul.
“By accident,” was all my reply.
“Were you alone?”
“I was.”
“Then no one but yourself saw the paper?”
“No one but myself.”
She gave me a look I made no sign of understanding.
“Have you told any one of what you saw and read?” she inquired at last, as she perceived I meant to volunteer nothing.
“That I am not called upon to state,” I returned.
“Oh, you would play the lawyer!” was her icy and quiet remark.
“I would play nothing,” was the answer that came from my lips.
She drew back, and a change passed over her.
Slowly as a fire is kindled67, the passion grew and grew on her face. When it was at its height she leaned her two hands on a table that stood between us, and, bending forward, whispered:
“Do you love him? Are you going to fight to keep his name free from stain and his position unassailed before the world?”
Believe me if you can, but I could not answer; possibly because I had as yet no answer to the question in my soul.
She took advantage of my hesitation68.
“Perhaps you think it is not worth while to fight me; that I have no real weapons at my command?” and her eyes shot forth69 a flame that devoured70 my rising hopes and seared my heart as with a fiery71 steel.
“I think you are a cruel woman,” I declared, “anxious to destroy what no longer gives you pleasure.”
“You know my story then?” she whispered. “He has talked about me, and to you?”
“No,” I replied, in quiet disdain72. “I know nothing save what your own eyes and your conduct tell me.”
“Then you shall,” she murmured, after a moment’s scrutiny73 of my face. “You shall hear how I have been loved, and how I have been forsaken. Perhaps it will help you to appreciate the man who is likely to wreck74 both our lives.”
I must have lifted my head at this, for she paused and gave me a curious look.
“You don’t love him?” she cried.
“I shall not let him wreck my life,” I responded.
Her lip curled and her two hands closed violently at her sides.
“You have not known him long,” she declared. “You have not seen him at your feet, or heard his voice, as day by day he pleaded more and more passionately75 for a word or smile? You have not known his touch!”
“No,” I impetuously cried, fascinated by her glance and tone.
I thought she looked relieved, and realized that her words might have been as much an inquiry as an assertion.
“Then do not boast,” she said.
The blood that was in my cheeks went out of them. I felt my eyes close spasmodically, and hurriedly turned away my head. She watched me curiously76.
“Do you think I succumbed77 without a struggle?” she vehemently78 asked, after a moment or two of this silent torture “Look at me. Am I a woman to listen to the passionate avowals of the first man that happens to glance my way and imagine he would like to have me for his wife? Is a handsome face and honeyed tongue sufficient to gain my good graces, even when it is backed by the wealth. I love and the position to which I feel myself equal? I tell you you do not know Rhoda Colwell, if you think she could be won easily. Days and days he haunted this room before I let his words creep much beyond my ears. I had a brother who needed all my care and all my affection, and I did not mean to marry, much less to love. But slowly and by degrees he got a hold upon my heart, and then, like the wretch79 who trusts himself to the maelstrom80, I was swept round and round into the whirlpool of passion till not earth nor heaven could save me or make me again the free and light-hearted girl I was. This was two years ago, and today —”
She stopped, choked. I had never seen greater passion, as I had never seen a more fiery nature.
“It is his persistency81 I complain of,” she murmured at last. “He forced me to love him. Had he left me when I first said ‘No,’ I could have looked down on his face to-day with contempt. But, no, he had a fancy that I was his destiny, and that he must possess me or die. Die? He would not even let me die when I found that my long-sought ‘Yes’ turned his worship into indifference82, and his passion into constraint83. But —” she suddenly cried, with a repetition of that laugh which now sounded so fearful in my ears — “all this does not answer your question as to how I dared publish the insinuations I tacked84 up on the mill-door this morning.”
“No,” I shudderingly85 cried.
“Ah! I have waited long,” she passionately asserted. “Wrongs like mine are very patient, and are very still, but the time comes at last when even a woman weak and frail86 as I am can lift her hand in power; and when she does lift it —”
“Hush!” I exclaimed, bounding from my seat and seizing her upraised arm; for her vivid figure seemed to emit a flame like death. “Hush! we want no tirades87, you nor I; only let me hear what Dwight Pollard has done, and whether you knew what you were saying when you called him and his family —”
“Murderers!” she completed.
I shook, but bowed my head. She loosed her arm from my grasp and stood for one moment contemplating88 me.
“You are a powerful rival,” she murmured. “He will love you just six months longer than he did me.”
I summoned up at once my pride and my composure.
“And that would be just six months too long,” I averred89, “if he is what you declare him to be.”
“What?” came from between her set teeth, and she gave a spring that brought her close to my side. “You would hate him, if I proved to you that he and his brother and his mother were the planners, if not the executors, of Mr. Barrows’ death.”
“Hate him?” I repeated, recoiling90, all my womanhood up in arms before the fearful joy expressed in her voice and attitude. “I should try and forget such a man ever existed. But I shall not be easily convinced,” I continued, as I saw her lips open with a sort of eager hope terrible to witness. “You are too anxious to kill my love.”
“Oh, you will be convinced,” she asserted. “Ask Dwight Pollard what sort of garments those are which lie under the boards of the old mill, and see if he can answer you without trembling.”
“Garments?” I repeated, in astonishment; “garments?”
“Yes,” said she. “If he can hear you ask that question and not turn pale, stop me in my mad assertions, and fear his doom91 no more. But if he flinches92 —”
A frightful93 smile closed up the gap, and she seemed by a look to motion me towards the door.
“But is that all you are going to tell me?” I queried94, dismayed at the prospect95 of our interview terminating thus.
“Is it not enough?” she asked. “When you have seen him, I will see you again. Can you not wait for that hour?”
I might have answered No. I was tempted96 to do so, as I had been tempted more than once to exert the full force of my spirit and crush her. But I had an indomitable pride of my own, and did not wish to risk even the semblance97 of defeat. So I controlled myself and merely replied:
“I do not desire to see Dwight Pollard again. I am not intending to return to his house.”
“And yet you will see him,” she averred. “I can easily be patient till then.” And she cast another look of dismissal towards the door.
“You are a demon98!” I felt tempted to respond, but my own dignity restrained me as well as her beauty, which was something absolutely dazzling in its intensity99 and fire. “I will have the truth from you yet,” was what I did say, as I moved, heart-sick and desponding, from her side.
And her slow “No doubt,” seemed to fill up the silence like a knell100, and give to my homeward journey a terror and a pang101 which proved that however I had deceived myself, hope had not quite given up its secret hold upon my heart.
And I dreamed of her that night, and in my dream her evil beauty shone so triumphantly102 that my greatest wonder was not that Dwight Pollard had succumbed to her fascinations103, but that having once seen the glint of that subtle soul shine from between those half-shut lids, he could ever have found strength to turn aside and let the fire he had roused burn itself away.
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1
abate
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| vi.(风势，疼痛等)减弱，减轻，减退 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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gleaning
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| n.拾落穗，拾遗，落穗v.一点点地收集（资料、事实）( glean的现在分词 )；（收割后）拾穗 | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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orphanage
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| n.孤儿院 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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lissom
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| adj.柔软的，轻快而优雅的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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18
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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imbued
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| v.使（某人/某事）充满或激起（感情等）( imbue的过去式和过去分词 )；使充满；灌输；激发（强烈感情或品质等） | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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apprehended
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| 逮捕，拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 )； 理解 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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luxuriousness
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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grimacing
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的现在分词 ) | |
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41
inane
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| adj.空虚的，愚蠢的，空洞的 | |
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42
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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43
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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45
surmises
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的第三人称单数 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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46
lithe
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| adj.(指人、身体)柔软的，易弯的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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48
perverse
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| adj.刚愎的；坚持错误的，行为反常的 | |
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49
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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50
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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51
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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52
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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53
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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54
corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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56
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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57
sterling
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| adj.英币的(纯粹的，货真价实的)；n.英国货币(英镑) | |
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58
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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59
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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quail
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| n.鹌鹑；vi.畏惧，颤抖 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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65
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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relentlessly
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| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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vehemently
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| adv. 热烈地 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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maelstrom
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| n.大乱动；大漩涡 | |
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persistency
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| n. 坚持(余辉, 时间常数) | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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constraint
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| n.(on)约束，限制；限制(或约束)性的事物 | |
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tacked
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| 用平头钉钉( tack的过去式和过去分词 )； 附加，增补； 帆船抢风行驶，用粗线脚缝 | |
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shudderingly
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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tirades
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| 激烈的长篇指责或演说( tirade的名词复数 ) | |
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contemplating
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| 深思，细想，仔细考虑( contemplate的现在分词 )； 注视，凝视； 考虑接受（发生某事的可能性）； 深思熟虑，沉思，苦思冥想 | |
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averred
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| v.断言( aver的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；证明…属实；作为事实提出 | |
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recoiling
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| v.畏缩( recoil的现在分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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flinches
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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knell
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| n.丧钟声；v.敲丧钟 | |
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101
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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102
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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103
fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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