Behold4, then, our hero domesticated5 at Dacre; rising at nine, joining a family breakfast, taking a quiet ride, or moderate stroll, sometimes looking into a book, but he was no great reader; sometimes fortunate enough in achieving a stray game at billiards6, usually with a Miss Montingford, and retiring to rest about the time that in London his most active existence generally began. Was he dull? was he wearied? He was never lighter-hearted or more contented7 in his life. Happy he could not allow himself to be styled, because the very cause which breathed this calm over his existence seemed to portend8 a storm which could not be avoided. It was the thought, the presence, the smile, the voice of May Dacre that imparted this new interest to existence: that being who never could be his. He shuddered9 to think that all this must end; but although he never indulged again in the great hope, his sanguine10 temper allowed him to thrust away the future, and to participate in all the joys of the flowing hour.
At the end of February the Montingfords departed, and now the Duke was the only guest at Dacre; nor did he hear that any others were expected. He was alone with her again; often was he alone with her, and never without a strange feeling coming over his frame, which made him tremble. Mr. Dacre, a man of active habits, always found occupation in his public duties and in the various interests of a large estate, and usually requested, or rather required, the Duke of St. James to be his companion. He was desirous that the Duke should not be alone, and ponder too much over the past; nor did he conceal11 his wishes from his daughter, who on all occasions, as the Duke observed with gratification, seconded the benevolent12 intentions of her parent. Nor did our hero indeed wish to be alone, or to ponder over the past. He was quite contented with the present; but he did not want to ride with papa, and took every opportunity to shirk; all of which Mr. Dacre set down to the indolence of exhaustion13, and the inertness14 of a mind without an object.
‘I am going to ride over to Doncaster, George,’ said Mr. Dacre one morning at breakfast. ‘I think that you had better order your horse too. A good ride will rouse you, and you should show yourself there.’
‘Oh! very well, sir; but, but I think that ——’
‘But what?’ asked Mr. Dacre, smiling.
The Duke looked to Miss Dacre, who seemed to take pity on his idleness.
‘You make him ride too much, papa. Leave him at home with me. I have a long round today, and want an escort. I will take him instead of my friend Tom Carter. You must carry a basket though,’ said she, turning to the Duke, ‘and run for the doctor if he be wanted, and, in short, do any odd message that turns up.’
So Mr. Dacre departed alone, and shortly after his daughter and the Duke of St. James set out on their morning ramble15. Many were the cottages at which they called; many the old dames16 after whose rheumatisms, and many the young damsels after whose fortunes they enquired18. Old Dame17 Rawdon was worse or better; worse last night, but better this morning. She was always better when Miss called. Miss’s face always did her good. And Fanny was very comfortable at Squire19 Wentworth’s, and the housekeeper20 was very kind to her, thanks to Miss saying a word to the great Lady. And old John Selby was quite about again. Miss’s stuff had done him a world of good, to say nothing of Mr. Dacre’s generous old wine.
‘And is this your second son, Dame Rishworth?’ ‘No; that bees our fourth,’ said the old woman, maternally21 arranging the urchin’s thin, white, flat, straight, unmanageable hair. ‘We are thinking what to do with him, Miss. He wants to go out to service. Since Jem Eustace got on so, I don’t know what the matter is with the lads; but I think we shall have none of them in the fields soon. He can clean knives and shoes very well, Miss. Mr. Bradford, at the Castle, was saying t’other day that perhaps he might want a young hand. You haven’t heard anything, I suppose, Miss?’
‘And what is your name, sir?’ asked Miss Dacre. ‘Bobby Rishworth, Miss!’ ‘Well, Bobby, I must consult Mr. Bradford.’ ‘We be in great trouble, Miss,’ said the next cottager. ‘We be in great trouble. Tom, poor Tom, was out last night, and the keepers will give him up. The good man has done all he can, we have all done all we can, Miss, and you see how it ends. He is the first of the family that ever went out. I hope that will be considered, Miss. Seventy years, our fathers before us, have we been on the ‘state, and nothing ever sworn agin us. I hope that will be considered, Miss. I am sure if Tom had been an underkeeper, as Mr. Roberts once talked of, this would never have happened. I hope that will be considered, Miss. We are in great trouble surely. Tom, you see, was our first, Miss.’
‘I never interfere22 about poaching, you know, Mrs. Jones. Mr. Dacre is the best judge of such matters. But you can go to him, and say that I sent you. I am afraid, however, that he has heard of Tom before.’
‘Only that night at Milwood, Miss; and then you see he had been drinking with Squire Ridge’s people. I hope that will be considered, Miss.’
‘Well, well, go up to the Castle.’
‘Pray be seated, Miss,’ said a neat-looking mistress of a neat little farmhouse23. ‘Pray be seated, sir. Let me dust it first. Dust will get everywhere, do what we can. And how’s Pa, Miss? He has not given me a look-in for many a day, not since he was a-hunting: bless me, if it ayn’t a fortnight. This day fortnight he tasted our ale, sure enough. Will you take a glass, sir?’
‘You are very good. No, I thank you; not today.’
‘Yes, give him a glass, nurse. He is unwell, and it will do him good.’
She brought the sparkling amber24 fluid, and the Duke did justice by his draught25.
‘I shall have fine honey for you, Miss, this year,’ said the old nurse. ‘Are you fond of honey, sir? Our honey is well known about. I don’t know how it is, but we do always contrive26 to manage the bees. How fond some people are of honey, good Lord! Now, when you were a little girl (I knew this young lady, sir, before you did), you always used to be fond of honey. I remember one day: let me see, it must be, ay! truly, that it is, eighteen years ago next Martinmas: I was a-going down the nursery stairs, just to my poor mistress’s room, and I had you in my arms (for I knew this young lady, sir, before you did). Well! I was a-going down the stairs, as I just said, to my poor dear mistress’s room with you, who was then a little-un indeed (bless your smiling face! you cost me many a weary hour when you were weaned, Miss. That you did! Some thought you would never get through it; but I always said, while there is life there is hope; and so, you see I were right); but, as I was saying, I was a-going down the stairs to my poor dear mistress, and I had a gallipot in my hand, a covered gallipot, with some leeches27. And just as I had got to the bottom of the stairs, and was a-going into my poor dear mistress’s room, said you (I never shall forget it), said you, “Honey, honey, nurse.” She thought it were honey, sir. So you see she were always very fond of honey (for I knew this young lady long before you did, sir).’
‘Are you quite sure of that, nurse?’ said Miss Dacre; ‘I think this is an older friend than you imagine. You remember the little Duke; do not you? This is the little Duke. Do you think he has grown?’
‘Now! bless my life! is it so indeed? Well, be sure, he has grown. I always thought he would turn out well, Miss, though Dr. Pretyman were always a-preaching, and talking his prophecycations. I always thought he would turn out well at last. Bless me! how he has grown, indeed! Perhaps he grows too fast, and that makes him weak. Nothing better than a glass of ale for weak people. I remember when Dr. Pretyman ordered it for my poor dear mistress. “Give her ale,” said the Doctor, “as strong as it can be brewed28;” and sure enough, my poor dear master had it brewed! Have you done growing, sir? You was ever a troublesome child. Often and often have I called George, George, Georgy, Georgy Porgy, and he never would come near me, though he heard all the time as plainly as he does now. Bless me! he has grown indeed!’
‘But I have turned out well at last, nurse, eh?’ asked the Duke.
‘Ay! sure enough; I always said so. Often and often have I said, he will turn out well at last. You be going, Miss? I thank you for looking in. My duty to my master. I was thinking of bringing up one of those cheeses he likes so.’
‘Ay! do, nurse. He can eat no cheese but yours.’
As they wandered home, they talked of Lady Caroline, to whom the Duke mentioned that he must write. He had once intended distinctly to have explained his feelings to her in a letter from Dacre; but each day he postponed29 the close of his destiny, although without hope. He lingered and he lingered round May Dacre, as a bird flutters round the fruit which is already grasped by a boy. Circumstances, which we shall relate, had already occurred, which confirmed the suspicion he had long entertained that Arundel Dacre was his favoured rival. Impressed with the folly30 of again encouraging hope, yet unable to harden his heart against her continual fascination31, the softness of his manner indicated his passion, and his calm and somewhat languid carriage also told her it was hopeless. Perhaps, after all, there is no demeanour more calculated to melt obdurate32 woman. The gratification he received from her society was evident, yet he never indulged in that gallantry of which he was once so proud. When she approached him, a mild smile lit up his pensive33 countenance34; he adopted her suggestions, but made none; he listened to her remarks with interest, but no longer bandied repartee35. Delicately he impressed her with the absolute power which she might exercise over his mind.
‘I write myself to Caroline tomorrow,’ said Miss Dacre.
‘Ah! Then I need not write. I talked of going up sooner. Have the kindness to explain why I do not: peremptory36 orders from Mr. Dacre; fresh air, and ——’
‘Arithmetic. I understand you get on admirably.’
‘My follies,’ said the Duke with a serious air, ‘have at least been productive of one good end, they have amused you.’
‘Nay! I have done too many foolish things myself any more to laugh at my neighbours. As for yourself, you have only committed those which were inseparable from your situation; and few, like the Duke of St. James, would so soon have opened their eyes to the truth of their conduct.’
‘A compliment from you repays me for all.’
‘Self-approbation does, which is much better than compliments from anyone. See! there is papa, and Arundel too: let us run up!’
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1
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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2
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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3
impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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domesticated
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| adj.喜欢家庭生活的；（指动物）被驯养了的v.驯化( domesticate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
billiards
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| n.台球 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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8
portend
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| v.预兆，预示；给…以警告 | |
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9
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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10
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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12
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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13
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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14
inertness
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| n.不活泼，没有生气；惰性；惯量 | |
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15
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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16
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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18
enquired
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| 打听( enquire的过去式和过去分词 )； 询问； 问问题； 查问 | |
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19
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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20
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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21
maternally
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22
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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25
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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26
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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27
leeches
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| n.水蛭( leech的名词复数 )；蚂蟥；榨取他人脂膏者；医生 | |
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28
brewed
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| 调制( brew的过去式和过去分词 )； 酝酿； 沏（茶）； 煮（咖啡） | |
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29
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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30
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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31
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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32
obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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33
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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34
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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35
repartee
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| n.机敏的应答 | |
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peremptory
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| adj.紧急的，专横的，断然的 | |
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