He had neglected her, to be sure; and they must have parted, it was certain. Yet, although the present event saved him from the most harrowing of scenes, he could not refrain shedding a tear. So good! and so beautiful! and was this her end? He who knew all knew how bitter had been the lot of her life.
It is certain that when one of your very virtuous4 women ventures to be a little indiscreet, we say it is certain, though we regret it, that sooner or later there is an explosion. And the reason is this, that they are always in a hurry to make up for lost time, and so love with them becomes a business instead of being a pleasure. Nature had intended Lady Aphrodite Grafton for a Psyche5, so spiritual was her soul, so pure her blood! Art — that is, education, which at least should be an art, though it is not — art had exquisitely6 sculptured the precious gem7 that Nature had developed, and all that was wanting was love to stamp an impression. Lady Aphrodite Grafton might have been as perfect a character as was ever the heroine of a novel. And to whose account shall we place her blighted8 fame and sullied lustre9? To that animal who seems formed only to betray woman. Her husband was a traitor10 in disguise. She found herself betrayed; but like a noble chieftain, when her capital was lost, maintained herself among the ruins of her happiness, in the citadel11 of her virtue12. She surrendered, she thought, on terms; and in yielding her heart to the young Duke, though never for a moment blind to her conduct, yet memory whispered extenuation13, and love added all that was necessary.
Our hero (we are for none of your perfect heroes) did not behave much better than her husband. The difference between them was, Sir Lucius Grafton’s character was formed, and formed for evil; while the Duke of St. James, when he became acquainted with Lady Aphrodite, possessed14 none. Gallantry was a habit, in which he had been brought up. To protest to woman what he did not believe, and to feign15 what he did not feel, were, as he supposed, parts in the character of an accomplished16 gentleman; and as hitherto he had not found his career productive of any misery17, we may perhaps view his conduct with less severity. But at length he approaches, not a mere18 woman of the world, who tries to delude19 him into the idea that he is the first hero of a romance that has been a hundred times repeated. He trembles at the responsibility which he has incurred20 by engaging the feelings of another. In the conflict of his emotions, some rays of moral light break upon his darkened soul. Profligacy21 brings its own punishment, and he feels keenly that man is the subject of sympathy, and not the slave of self-love.
This remorse22 protracts23 a connection which each day is productive of more painful feelings; but the heart cannot be overstrung, and anxiety ends in callousness24. Then come neglect, remonstrance25, explanations, protestations, and, sooner or later, a catastrophe26.
But love is a dangerous habit, and when once indulged, is not easily thrown off, unless you become devout27, which is, in a manner, giving the passion a new direction. In Catholic countries, it is surprising how many adventures end in a convent. A dame28, in her desperation, flies to the grate, which never reopens; but in Protestant regions she has time to cool, and that’s the deuce; so, instead of taking the veil, she takes a new lover.
Lady Aphrodite had worked up her mind and the young Duke to a step the very mention of which a year before would have made him shudder29. What an enchanter is Passion! No wonder Ovid, who was a judge, made love so much connected with his Metamorphoses. With infinite difficulty she had dared to admit the idea of flying with his Grace; but when the idea was once admitted, when she really had, once or twice, constantly dwelt on the idea of at length being free from her tyrant30, and perhaps about to indulge in those beautiful affections for which she was formed, and of which she had been rifled; when, I say, all this occurred, and her hero diplomatised, and, in short, kept back; why, she had advanced one step, without knowing it, to running away with another man.
It was unlucky that De Whiskerburg stepped in. An Englishman would not have done. She knew them well, and despised them all; but he was new (dangerous novelty), with a cast of feelings which, because they were strange, she believed to be unhackneyed; and he was impassioned. We need not go on.
So this star has dropped from out the heaven; so this precious pearl no longer gleams among the jewels of society, and there she breathes in a foreign land, among strange faces and stranger customs, and, when she thinks of what is past, laughs at some present emptiness, and tries to persuade her withering31 heart that the mind is independent of country, and blood, and opinion. And her father’s face no longer shines with its proud love, and her mother’s voice no longer whispers to her with sweet anxiety. Clouded is the brow of her bold brother, and dimmed is the radiancy of her budding sister’s bloom.
Poor creature! that is to say, wicked woman! for we are not of those who set themselves against the verdict of society, or ever omit to expedite, by a gentle kick, a falling friend. And yet, when we just remember beauty is beauty, and grace is grace, and kindness is kindness, although the beautiful, the graceful32, and the amiable33 do get in a scrape, we don’t know how it is, we confess it is a weakness, but, under these circumstances, we do not feel quite inclined to sneer34.
But this is wrong. We should not pity or pardon those who have yielded to great temptation, or perchance great provocation35. Besides, it is right that our sympathy should be kept for the injured.
To stand amid the cold ashes of your desolate36 hearth37, with all your Penates shivered at your feet; to find no smiling face meet your return, no brow look gloomy when you leave your door; to eat and sleep alone; to be bored with grumbling38 servants and with weekly bills; to have your children asking after mamma; and no one to nurse your gout, or cure the influenza39 that rages in your household: all this is doubtless hard to digest, and would tell in a novel, particularly if written by my friends Mr. Ward40 or Mr. Bulwer.
点击收听单词发音
1 pang | |
n.剧痛,悲痛,苦闷 | |
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2 unreasonable | |
adj.不讲道理的,不合情理的,过度的 | |
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3 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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4 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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5 psyche | |
n.精神;灵魂 | |
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6 exquisitely | |
adv.精致地;强烈地;剧烈地;异常地 | |
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7 gem | |
n.宝石,珠宝;受爱戴的人 [同]jewel | |
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8 blighted | |
adj.枯萎的,摧毁的 | |
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9 lustre | |
n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
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10 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
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11 citadel | |
n.城堡;堡垒;避难所 | |
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12 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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13 extenuation | |
n.减轻罪孽的借口;酌情减轻;细 | |
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14 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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15 feign | |
vt.假装,佯作 | |
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16 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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17 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
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18 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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19 delude | |
vt.欺骗;哄骗 | |
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20 incurred | |
[医]招致的,遭受的; incur的过去式 | |
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21 profligacy | |
n.放荡,不检点,肆意挥霍 | |
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22 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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23 protracts | |
v.延长,拖延(某事物)( protract的第三人称单数 ) | |
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24 callousness | |
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25 remonstrance | |
n抗议,抱怨 | |
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26 catastrophe | |
n.大灾难,大祸 | |
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27 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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28 dame | |
n.女士 | |
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29 shudder | |
v.战粟,震动,剧烈地摇晃;n.战粟,抖动 | |
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30 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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31 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
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32 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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33 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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34 sneer | |
v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
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35 provocation | |
n.激怒,刺激,挑拨,挑衅的事物,激怒的原因 | |
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36 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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37 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
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38 grumbling | |
adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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39 influenza | |
n.流行性感冒,流感 | |
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40 ward | |
n.守卫,监护,病房,行政区,由监护人或法院保护的人(尤指儿童);vt.守护,躲开 | |
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