Dacres, too, seemed preoccupied9; only Cecily was, as they say, herself. Cecily was really more than herself, she exhibited an unusual flow of spirits. She talked continually, she pointed10 out this and that, she asked who lived here and who lived there. At regular intervals11 of about four minutes she demanded if it wasn’t simply too lovely. She sat straight up with her vigorous profile and her smart hat; and the silhouette12 of her personality sharply refused to mingle13 with the dust of any dynasty. She was a contrast, a protest; positively14 she was an indignity15. ‘Do lean back, dear child,’ I exclaimed at last. ‘You interfere16 with the landscape.’
She leaned back, but she went on interfering17 with it in terms of sincerest enthusiasm.
When we stopped at the great archway of entrance I begged to be left in the carriage. What else could one do, when the golden moment had come, but sit in the carriage and measure it? They climbed the broad stone steps together and passed under the lofty gravures into the garden, and I waited. I waited and remembered. I am not, as perhaps by this time is evident, a person of overwhelming sentiment, but I think the smile upon my lips was gentle. So plainly I could see, beyond the massive archway and across a score of years, all that they saw at that moment — Arjamand’s garden, and the long straight tank of marble cleaving18 it full of sleeping water and the shadows of the marshaling cypresses19; her wide dark garden of roses and of pomegranates, and at the end the Vision, marvellous, aerial, the soul of something — is it beauty? is it sorrow? — that great white pride of love in mourning such as only here in all the round of our little world lifts itself to the stars, the unpaintable, indescribable Taj Mahal. A gentle breath stole out with a scent20 of jessamine and such a memory! I closed my eyes and felt the warm luxury of a tear.
Thinking of the two in the garden, my mood was very kind, very conniving21. How foolish after all were my cherry-stone theories of taste and temperament22 before that uncalculating thing which sways a world and builds a Taj Mahal! Was it probable that Arjamand and her Emperor had loved fastidiously, and yet how they had loved! I wandered away into consideration of the blind forces which move the world, in which comely23 young persons like my daughter Cecily had such a place; I speculated vaguely24 upon the value of the subtler gifts of sympathy and insight which seemed indeed, at that enveloping25 moment, to be mere26 flowers strewn upon the tide of deeper emotions. The garden sent me a fragrance27 of roses; the moon sailed higher and picked out the little kiosks set along the wall. It was a charming, charming thing to wait, there at the portal of the silvered, scented28 garden, for an idyll to come forth29.
When they reappeared, Dacres and my daughter, they came with casual steps and cheerful voices. They might have been a couple of tourists. The moonlight fell full upon them on the platform under the arch. It showed Dacres measuring with his stick the length of the Sanskrit letters which declared the stately texts, and Cecily’s expression of polite, perfunctory interest. They looked up at the height above them; they looked back at the vision behind. Then they sauntered towards the carriage, he offering a formal hand to help her down the uncertain steps, she gracefully30 accepting it.
‘You — you have not been long,’ said I. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry on my account.’
‘Miss Farnham found the marble a little cold under foot,’ replied Dacres, putting Miss Farnham in.
‘You see,’ explained Cecily, ‘I stupidly forgot to change into thicker soles. I have only my slippers31. But, mamma, how lovely it is! Do let us come again in the daytime. I am dying to make a sketch32 of it.’
Mr. Tottenham was to leave us on the following day. In the morning, after ‘little breakfast,’ as we say in India, he sought me in the room I had set aside to be particularly my own.
Again I was writing to John, but this time I waited for precisely33 his interruption. I had got no further than ‘My dearest husband,’ and my pen-handle was a fringe.
‘Another fine day,’ I said, as if the old, old Indian joke could give him ease, poor man!
‘Yes,’ said he, ‘we are having lovely weather.’
He had forgotten that it was a joke. Then he lapsed34 into silence while I renewed my attentions to my pen.
‘I say,’ he said at last, with so strained a look about his mouth that it was almost a contortion35, ‘I haven’t done it, you know.’
‘No,’ I responded, cheerfully, ‘and you’re not going to. Is that it? Well!’
‘Frankly —’ said he.
‘Dear me, yes! Anything else between you and me would be grotesque,’ I interrupted, ‘after all these years.’
‘I don’t think it would be a success,’ he said, looking at me resolutely36 with his clear blue eyes, in which still lay, alas37! the possibility of many delusions38.
‘No,’ I said, ‘I never did, you know. But the prospect39 had begun to impose upon me.’
‘To say how right you were would seem, under the circumstances, the most hateful form of flattery.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I think I can dispense40 with your verbal endorsement41.’ I felt a little bitter. It was, of course, better that the connoisseur42 should have discovered the flaw before concluding the transaction; but although I had pointed it out myself I was not entirely43 pleased to have the article returned.
‘I am infinitely44 ashamed that it should have taken me all these days — day after day and each contributory — to discover what you saw so easily and so completely.’
‘You forget that I am her mother,’ I could not resist the temptation of saying.
‘Oh, for God’s sake don’t jeer45! Please be absolutely direct, and tell me if you have reason to believe that to the extent of a thought, of a breath — to any extent at all — she cares.’
He was, I could see, very deeply moved; he had not arrived at this point without trouble and disorder46 not lightly to be put on or off. Yet I did not hurry to his relief, I was still possessed47 by a vague feeling of offense48. I reflected that any mother would be, and I quite plumed49 myself upon my annoyance50. It was so satisfactory, when one had a daughter, to know the sensations of even any mother. Nor was it soothing51 to remember that the young man’s whole attitude towards Cecily had been based upon criticism of me, even though he sat before me whipped with his own lash52. His temerity53 had been stupid and obstinate54; I could not regret his punishment.
I kept him waiting long enough to think all this, and then I replied, ‘I have not the least means of knowing.’
I can not say what he expected, but he squared his shoulders as if he had received a blow and might receive another. Then he looked at me with a flash of the old indignation. ‘You are not near enough to her for that!’ he exclaimed.
‘I am not near enough to her for that.’
Silence fell between us. A crow perched upon an opened venetian and cawed lustily. For years afterward55 I never heard a crow caw without a sense of vain, distressing56 experiment. Dacres got up and began to walk about the room. I very soon put a stop to that. ‘I can’t talk to a pendulum,’ I said, but I could not persuade him to sit down again.
‘Candidly,’ he said at length, ‘do you think she would have me?’
‘I regret to say that I think she would. But you would not dream of asking her.’
‘Why not? She is a dear girl,’ he responded inconsequently.
‘You could not possibly stand it.’
Then Mr. Tottenham delivered himself of this remarkable57 phrase: ‘I could stand it,’ he said, ‘as well as you can.’
There was far from being any joy in the irony58 with which I regarded him and under which I saw him gather up his resolution to go; nevertheless I did nothing to make it easy for him. I refrained from imparting my private conviction that Cecily would accept the first presentable substitute that appeared, although it was strong. I made no reference to my daughter’s large fund of philosophy and small balance of sentiment. I did not even — though this was reprehensible59 — confess the test, the test of quality in these ten days with the marble archives of the Moguls, which I had almost wantonly suggested, which he had so unconsciously accepted, so disastrously60 applied61. I gave him quite fifteen minutes of his bad quarter of an hour, and when it was over I wrote truthfully but furiously to John. . . .
That was ten years ago. We have since attained62 the shades of retirement63, and our daughter is still with us when she is not with Aunt Emma and Aunt Alice — grandmamma has passed away. Mr. Tottenham’s dumb departure that day in February — it was the year John got his C.B. — was followed, I am thankful to say, by none of the symptoms of unrequited affection on Cecily’s part. Not for ten minutes, so far as I was aware, was she the maid forlorn. I think her self-respect was of too robust64 a character, thanks to the Misses Farnham. Still less, of course, had she any reproaches to serve upon her mother, although for a long time I thought I detected — or was it my guilty conscience? — a spark of shrewdness in the glance she bent65 upon me when the talk was of Mr. Tottenham and the probabilities of his return to Agra. So well did she sustain her experience, or so little did she feel it, that I believe the impression went abroad that Dacres had been sent disconsolate66 away. One astonishing conversation I had with her some six months later, which turned upon the point of a particularly desirable offer. She told me something then, without any sort of embarrassment67, but quite lucidly68 and directly, that edified69 me much to hear. She said that while she was quite sure that Mr. Tottenham thought of her only as a friend — she had never had the least reason for any other impression — he had done her a service for which she could not thank him enough — in showing her what a husband might be. He had given her a standard; it might be high, but it was unalterable. She didn’t know whether she could describe it, but Mr. Tottenham was different from the kind of man you seemed to meet in India. He had his own ways of looking at things, and he talked so well. He had given her an ideal, and she intended to profit by it. To know that men like Mr. Tottenham existed, and to marry any other kind would be an act of folly70 which she did not intend to commit. No, Major the Hon. Hugh Taverel did not come near it — very far short, indeed! He had talked to her during the whole of dinner the night before about jackal-hunting with a bobbery pack — not at all an elevated mind. Yes, he might be a very good fellow, but as a companion for life she was sure he would not be at all suitable. She would wait.
And she has waited. I never thought she would, but she has. From time to time men have wished to take her from us, but the standard has been inexorable, and none of them have reached it. When Dacres married the charming American whom he caught like a butterfly upon her Eastern tour, Cecily sent them as a wedding present an alabaster71 model of the Taj, and I let her do it — the gift was so exquisitely72 appropriate. I suppose he never looks at it without being reminded that he didn’t marry Miss Farnham, and I hope that he remembers that he owes it to Miss Farnham’s mother. So much I think I might claim; it is really very little considering what it stands for. Cecily is permanently74 with us — I believe she considers herself an intimate. I am very reasonable about lending her to her aunts, but she takes no sort of advantage of my liberality; she says she knows her duty is at home. She is growing into a firm and solid English maiden75 lady, with a good colour and great decision of character. That she always had.
I point out to John, when she takes our crumpets away from us, that she gets it from him. I could never take away anybody’s crumpets, merely because they were indigestible, least of all my own parents’. She has acquired a distinct affection for us, by some means best known to herself; but I should have no objection to that if she would not rearrange my bonnet-strings. That is a fond liberty to which I take exception; but it is one thing to take exception and another to express it.
Our daughter is with us, permanently with us. She declares that she intends to be the prop73 of our declining years; she makes the statement often, and always as if it were humorous. Nevertheless I sometimes notice a spirit of inquiry76, a note of investigation77 in her encounters with the opposite sex that suggests an expectation not yet extinct that another and perhaps a more appreciative78 Dacres Tottenham may flash across her field of vision — alas, how improbable! Myself I can not imagine why she should wish it; I have grown in my old age into a perfect horror of cultivated young men; but if such a person should by a miracle at any time appear, I think it is extremely improbable that I will interfere on his behalf.
The End
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1
pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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2
bungalows
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| n.平房( bungalow的名词复数 )；单层小屋，多于一层的小屋 | |
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3
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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pariah
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| n.被社会抛弃者 | |
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bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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6
turrets
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| （六角）转台( turret的名词复数 )； （战舰和坦克等上的）转动炮塔； （摄影机等上的）镜头转台； （旧时攻城用的）塔车 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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mosque
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| n.清真寺 | |
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preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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12
silhouette
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| n.黑色半身侧面影，影子，轮廓；v.描绘成侧面影，照出影子来，仅仅显出轮廓 | |
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13
mingle
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| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
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14
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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indignity
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| n.侮辱，伤害尊严，轻蔑 | |
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16
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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18
cleaving
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| v.劈开，剁开，割开( cleave的现在分词 ) | |
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cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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conniving
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| v.密谋 ( connive的现在分词 )；搞阴谋；默许；纵容 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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23
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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25
enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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27
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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28
scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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31
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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32
sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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33
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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34
lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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35
contortion
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| n.扭弯，扭歪，曲解 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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38
delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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41
endorsement
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| n.背书；赞成，认可，担保；签(注)，批注 | |
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connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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43
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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45
jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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46
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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47
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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48
offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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49
plumed
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| 饰有羽毛的 | |
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50
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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51
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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52
lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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53
temerity
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| n.鲁莽，冒失 | |
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54
obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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55
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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56
distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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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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58
irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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59
reprehensible
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| adj.该受责备的 | |
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60
disastrously
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| ad.灾难性地 | |
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61
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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62
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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64
robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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65
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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67
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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68
lucidly
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| adv.清透地，透明地 | |
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69
edified
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| v.开导，启发( edify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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71
alabaster
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| adj.雪白的；n.雪花石膏；条纹大理石 | |
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72
exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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73
prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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74
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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75
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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76
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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77
investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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