She dressed early in order not to miss him at breakfast; but as she entered the dining-room the parlour-maid told her that Mr. Peyton had overslept himself, and had rung to have his breakfast sent upstairs. Was it a pretext3 to avoid her? She was vexed4 at her own readiness to see a portent5 in the simplest incident; but while she blushed at her doubts she let them govern her. She left the dining-room door open, determined6 not to miss him if he came downstairs while she was at breakfast; then she went back to the drawing-room and sat down at her writing-table, trying to busy herself with some accounts while she listened for his step. Here too she had left the door open; but presently even this slight departure from her daily usage seemed a deviation7 from the passive attitude she had adopted, and she rose and shut the door. She knew that she could still hear his step on the stairs — he had his father’s quick swinging gait — but as she sat listening, and vainly trying to write, the closed door seemed to symbolize8 a refusal to share in his trial, a hardening of herself against his need of her. What if he should come down intending to speak, and should be turned from his purpose? Slighter obstacles have deflected9 the course of events in those indeterminate moments when the soul floats between two tides. She sprang up quickly, and as her hand touched the latch10 she heard his step on the stairs.
When he entered the drawing-room she had regained11 the writing-table and could lift a composed face to his. He came in hurriedly, yet with a kind of reluctance12 beneath his haste: again it was his father’s step. She smiled, but looked away from him as he approached her; she seemed to be re-living her own past as one re-lives things in the distortion of fever.
“Are you off already?” she asked, glancing at the hat in his hand.
“Yes; I’m late as it is. I overslept myself.” He paused and looked vaguely13 about the room. “Don’t expect me till late — don’t wait dinner for me.”
She stirred impulsively14. “Dick, you’re overworking — you’ll make yourself ill.”
“Nonsense. I’m as fit as ever this morning. Don’t be imagining things.”
He dropped his habitual15 kiss on her forehead, and turned to go. On the threshold he paused, and she felt that something in him sought her and then drew back. “Good-bye,” he called to her as the door closed on him.
She sat down and tried to survey the situation divested16 of her midnight fears. He had not referred to her wish to see the drawings: but what did the omission17 signify? Might he not have forgotten her request? Was she not forcing the most trivial details to fit in with her apprehensions18? Unfortunately for her own reassurance19, she knew that her familiarity with Dick’s processes was based on such minute observation, and that, to such intimacy20 as theirs, no indications were trivial. She was as certain as if he had spoken, that when he had left the house that morning he was weighing the possibility of using Darrow’s drawings, of supplementing his own incomplete design from the fulness of his friend’s invention. And with a bitter pang22 she divined that he was sorry he had shown her Darrow’s letter.
It was impossible to remain face to face with such conjectures23, and though she had given up all her engagements during the few days since Darrow’s death, she now took refuge in the thought of a concert which was to take place at a friend’s house that morning. The music-room, when she entered, was thronged25 with acquaintances, and she found transient relief in that dispersal of attention which makes society an anesthetic26 for some forms of wretchedness. Contact with the pressure of busy indifferent life often gives remoteness to questions which have clung as close as the flesh to the bone; and if Mrs. Peyton did not find such complete release, she at least interposed between herself and her anxiety the obligation to dissemble it. But the relief was only momentary27, and when the first bars of the overture28 turned from her the smiles of recognition among which she had tried to lose herself, she felt a deeper sense of isolation29. The music, which at another time would have swept her away on some rich current of emotion, now seemed to island her in her own thoughts, to create an artificial solitude30 in which she found herself more immitigably face to face with her fears. The silence, the recueillement, about her gave resonance31 to the inner voices, lucidity32 to the inner vision, till she seemed enclosed in a luminous33 empty horizon against which every possibility took the sharp edge of accomplished34 fact. With relentless35 precision the course of events was unrolled before her: she saw Dick yielding to his opportunity, snatching victory from dishonour36, winning love, happiness and success in the act by which he lost himself. It was all so simple, so easy, so inevitable37, that she felt the futility38 of struggling or hoping against it. He would win the competition, would marry Miss Verney, would press on to achievement through the opening which the first success had made for him.
As Mrs. Peyton reached this point in her forecast, she found her outward gaze arrested by the face of the young lady who so dominated her inner vision. Miss Verney, a few rows distant, sat intent upon the music, in that attitude of poised39 motion which was her nearest approach to repose40. Her slender brown profile with its breezy hair, her quick eye, and the lips which seemed to listen as well as speak, all betokened41 to Mrs. Peyton a nature through which the obvious energies blew free, a bare open stretch of consciousness without shelter for tenderer growths. She shivered to think of Dick’s frail42 scruples43 exposed to those rustling44 airs. And then, suddenly, a new thought struck her. What if she might turn this force to her own use, make it serve, unconsciously to Dick, as the means of his deliverance? Hitherto she had assumed that her son’s worst danger lay in the chance of his confiding45 his difficulty to Clemence Verney; and she had, in her own past, a precedent46 which made her think such a confidence not unlikely. If he did carry his scruples to the girl, she argued, the latter’s imperviousness47, her frank inability to understand them, would have the effect of dispelling48 them like mist; and he was acute enough to know this and profit by it. So she had hitherto reasoned; but now the girl’s presence seemed to clarify her perceptions, and she told herself that something in Dick’s nature, something which she herself had put there, would resist this short cut to safety, would make him take the more tortuous49 way to his goal rather than gain it through the privacies of the heart he loved. For she had lifted him thus far above his father, that it would be a disenchantment to him to find that Clemence Verney did not share his scruples. On this much, his mother now exultingly50 felt, she could count in her passive struggle for supremacy51. No, he would never, never tell Clemence Verney — and his one hope, his sure salvation52, therefore lay in some one else’s telling her.
The excitement of this discovery had nearly, in mid-concert, swept Mrs. Peyton from her seat to the girl’s side. Fearing to miss the latter in the throng24 at the entrance, she slipped out during the last number and, lingering in the farther drawing-room, let the dispersing53 audience drift her in Miss Verney’s direction. The girl shone sympathetically on her approach, and in a moment they had detached themselves from the crowd and taken refuge in the perfumed emptiness of the conservatory54.
The girl, whose sensations were always easily set in motion, had at first a good deal to say of the music, for which she claimed, on her hearer’s part, an active show of approval or dissent55; but this dismissed, she turned a melting face on Mrs. Peyton and said with one of her rapid modulations of tone: “I was so sorry about poor Mr. Darrow.”
Mrs. Peyton uttered an assenting56 sigh. “It was a great grief to us — a great loss to my son.”
“Yes — I know. I can imagine what you must have felt. And then it was so unlucky that it should have happened just now.”
Mrs. Peyton shot a reconnoitring glance at her profile. “His dying, you mean, on the eve of success?”
Miss Verney turned a frank smile upon her. “One ought to feel that, of course — but I’m afraid I am very selfish where my friends are concerned, and I was thinking of Mr. Peyton’s having to give up his work at such a critical moment.” She spoke21 without a note of deprecation: there was a pagan freshness in her opportunism.
Mrs. Peyton was silent, and the girl continued after a pause: “I suppose now it will be almost impossible for him to finish his drawings in time. It’s a pity he hadn’t worked out the whole scheme a little sooner. Then the details would have come of themselves.”
Mrs. Peyton felt a contempt strangely mingled57 with exultation58. If only the girl would talk in that way to Dick!
“He has hardly had time to think of himself lately,” she said, trying to keep the coldness out of her voice.
“No, of course not,” Miss Verney assented59; “but isn’t that all the more reason for his friends to think of him? It was very dear of him to give up everything to nurse Mr. Darrow — but, after all, if a man is going to get on in his career there are times when he must think first of himself.”
Mrs. Peyton paused, trying to choose her words with deliberation. It was quite clear now that Dick had not spoken, and she felt the responsibility that devolved upon her.
“Getting on in a career — is that always the first thing to be considered?” she asked, letting her eyes rest musingly60 on the girl’s.
The glance did not disconcert Miss Verney, who returned it with one of equal comprehensiveness. “Yes,” she said quickly, and with a slight blush. “With a temperament61 like Mr. Peyton’s I believe it is. Some people can pick themselves up after any number of bad falls: I am not sure that he could. I think discouragement would weaken instead of strengthening him.”
Both women had forgotten external conditions in the quick reach for each other’s meanings. Mrs. Peyton flushed, her maternal62 pride in revolt; but the answer was checked on her lips by the sense of the girl’s unexpected insight. Here was some one who knew Dick as well as she did — should she say a partisan63 or an accomplice64? A dim jealousy65 stirred beneath Mrs. Peyton’s other emotions: she was undergoing the agony which the mother feels at the first intrusion on her privilege of judging her child; and her voice had a flutter of resentment66.
“You must have a poor opinion of his character,” she said.
Miss Verney did not remove her eyes, but her blush deepened beautifully. “I have, at any rate,” she Said, “a high one of his talent. I don’t suppose many men have an equal amount of moral and intellectual energy.”
“And you would cultivate the one at the expense of the other?”
“In certain cases — and up to a certain point.” She shook out the long fur of her muff, one of those silvery flexible furs which clothe a woman with a delicate sumptuousness67. Everything about her, at the moment, seemed rich and cold — everything, as Mrs. Peyton quickly noted68, but the blush lingering under her dark skin; and so complete was the girl’s self-command that the blush seemed to be there only because it had been forgotten.
“I dare say you think me strange,” she continued. “Most people do, because I speak the truth. It’s the easiest way of concealing69 one’s feelings. I can, for instance, talk quite openly about Mr. Peyton under shelter of your inference that I shouldn’t do so if I were what is called ‘interested’ in him. And as I am interested in him, my method has its advantages!” She ended with one of the fluttering laughs which seemed to flit from point to point of her expressive70 person.
Mrs. Peyton leaned toward her. “I believe you are interested,” she said quietly; “and since I suppose you allow others the privilege you claim for yourself, I am going to confess that I followed you here in the hope of finding out the nature of your interest.”
Miss Verney shot a glance at her, and drew away in a soft subsidence of undulating furs.
“Is this an embassy?” she asked smiling.
“No: not in any sense.”
The girl leaned back with an air of relief. “I’m glad; I should have disliked — ” She looked again at Mrs. Peyton. “You want to know what I mean to do?”
“Yes.”
“Then I can only answer that I mean to wait and see what he does.”
“You mean that everything is contingent71 on his success?”
“I am — if I’m everything,” she admitted gaily72.
The mother’s heart was beating in her throat, and her words seemed to force themselves out through the throbs74.
“I— I don’t quite see why you attach such importance to this special success.”
“Because he does,” the girl returned instantly. “Because to him it is the final answer to his self-questioning — the questioning whether he is ever to amount to anything or not. He says if he has anything in him it ought to come out now. All the conditions are favourable75 — it is the chance he has always prayed for. You see,” she continued, almost confidentially76, but without the least loss of composure — “you see he has told me a great deal about himself and his various experiments — his phrases of indecision and disgust. There are lots of tentative talents in the world, and the sooner they are crushed out by circumstances the better. But it seems as though he really had it in him to do something distinguished77 — as though the uncertainty lay in his character and not in his talent. That is what interests, what attracts me. One can’t teach a man to have genius, but if he has it one may show him how to use it. That is what I should be good for, you see — to keep him up to his opportunities.”
Mrs. Peyton had listened with an intensity78 of attention that left her reply unprepared. There was something startling and yet half attractive in the girl’s avowal79 of principles which are oftener lived by than professed80.
“And you think,” she began at length, “that in this case he has fallen below his opportunity?”
“No one can tell, of course; but his discouragement, his abattement, is a bad sign. I don’t think he has any hope of succeeding.”
The mother again wavered a moment. “Since you are so frank,” she then said, “will you let me be equally so, and ask how lately you have seen him?”
The girl smiled at the circumlocution81. “Yesterday afternoon,” she said simply.
“And you thought him — ”
“Horribly down on his luck. He said himself that his brain was empty.”
Again Mrs. Peyton felt the throb73 in her throat, and a slow blush rose to her cheek. “Was that all he said?”
“About himself — was there anything else?” said the girl quickly.
“He didn’t tell you of — of an opportunity to make up for the time he has lost?”
“An opportunity? I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t speak to you, then, of Mr. Darrow’s letter?”
“He said nothing of any letter.”
“There was one, which was found after poor Darrow’s death. In it he gave Dick leave to use his design for the competition. Dick says the design is wonderful — it would give him just what he needs.”
Miss Verney sat listening raptly, with a rush of colour that suffused82 her like light.
“But when was this? Where was the letter found? He never said a word of it!” she exclaimed.
“The letter was found on the day of Darrow’s death.”
“But I don’t understand! Why has he never told me? Why should he seem so hopeless?” She turned an ignorant appealing face on Mrs. Peyton. It was prodigious83, but it was true — she felt nothing, saw nothing, but the crude fact of the opportunity.
Mrs. Peyton’s voice trembled with the completeness of her triumph. “I suppose his reason for not speaking is that he has scruples.”
“Scruples?”
“He feels that to use the design would be dishonest.”
Miss Verney’s eyes fixed84 themselves on her in a commiserating85 stare. “Dishonest? When the poor man wished it himself? When it was his last request? When the letter is there to prove it? Why, the design belongs to your son! No one else had any right to it.”
“But Dick’s right does not extend to passing it off as his own — at least that is his feeling, I believe. If he won the competition he would be winning it on false pretenses86.”
“Why should you call them false pretenses? His design might have been better than Darrow’s if he had had time to carry it out. It seems to me that Mr. Darrow must have felt this — must have felt that he owed his friend some compensation for the time he took from him. I can imagine nothing more natural than his wishing to make this return for your son’s sacrifice.”
She positively87 glowed with the force of her conviction, and Mrs. Peyton, for a strange instant, felt her own resistance wavering. She herself had never considered the question in that light — the light of Darrow’s viewing his gift as a justifiable88 compensation. But the glimpse she caught of it drove her shuddering89 behind her retrenchments.
“That argument,” she said coldly, “would naturally be more convincing to Darrow than to my son.”
Miss Verney glanced up, struck by the change in Mrs. Peyton’s voice.
“Ah, then you agree with him? You think it would be dishonest?”
Mrs. Peyton saw that she had slipped into self-betrayal. “My son and I have not spoken of the matter,” she said evasively. She caught the flash of relief in Miss Verney’s face.
“You haven’t spoken? Then how do you know how he feels about it?”
“I only judge from — well, perhaps from his not speaking.”
The girl drew a deep breath. “I see,” she murmured. “That is the very reason that prevents his speaking.”
“The reason?”
“Your knowing what he thinks — and his knowing that you know.”
Mrs. Peyton was startled at her subtlety90. “I assure you,” she said, rising, “that I have done nothing to influence him.”
The girl gazed at her musingly. “No,” she said with a faint smile, “nothing except to read his thoughts.”
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1
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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deviation
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| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
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symbolize
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| vt.作为...的象征，用符号代表 | |
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deflected
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| 偏离的 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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divested
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| v.剥夺( divest的过去式和过去分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
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omission
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| n.省略，删节；遗漏或省略的事物，冗长 | |
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apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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reassurance
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| n.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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conjectures
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| 推测，猜想( conjecture的名词复数 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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anesthetic
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| n.麻醉剂，麻药；adj.麻醉的，失去知觉的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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lucidity
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| n.明朗，清晰，透明 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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futility
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| n.无用 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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imperviousness
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| 不透性；不通透性；不透水 | |
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dispelling
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的现在分词 ) | |
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tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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50
exultingly
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| 兴高采烈地，得意地 | |
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supremacy
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| n.至上；至高权力 | |
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52
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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53
dispersing
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| adj. 分散的 动词disperse的现在分词形式 | |
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conservatory
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| n.温室，音乐学院；adj.保存性的，有保存力的 | |
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dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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assenting
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| 同意，赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
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57
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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sumptuousness
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| 奢侈，豪华 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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throbs
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| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
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favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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avowal
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| n.公开宣称，坦白承认 | |
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professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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circumlocution
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| n. 绕圈子的话，迂回累赘的陈述 | |
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suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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commiserating
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| v.怜悯，同情( commiserate的现在分词 ) | |
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pretenses
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| n.借口（pretense的复数形式） | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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