Sir Jasper was not a man to appreciate the delights of the country, or to settle down after marriage into the groove12 which had contented13 so many generations of his forefathers14. While still little more than a youngster, he had developed a very pretty taste for the gaming-table, which it was impossible to gratify at Broome. So one day, after he had been nearly yawning himself to death for a week, and after a more pronounced tiff15 than usual with my lady, whose penurious16 ways were a terrible annoyance17 to him, he discovered that important business called him to London, and there, a few days later, his yellow posting-chariot deposited him.
After this, Broome saw little of its master except at infrequent intervals18. His visits rarely lasted longer than a fortnight at a time, after which he would be off again, either to London, or to the country house of one or another of his many friends. Meanwhile, Lady Pengarvon vegetated19 from year end to year end in the gloomy old house, seeing scarcely any company and rarely going from home, bringing up her daughters, giving sparingly to the poor, and being exercised in her mind for weeks before she ventured on the extravagance of ordering a new gown. All this time no heir male came to gladden his parents' hearts. Sir Jasper felt himself to be a deeply injured man, while his wife pined in secret and shut herself up from the world more closely than ever.
The Baronet had not been idle all this time. He had been doing his best, with the aid of the gaming-table, to dissipate the broad acres which had come down to him from a dozen generations of thrifty20 ancestors. It was a pleasant life, but unfortunately it couldn't last for ever. The end came when his eldest21 daughter was seventeen years old. His own fortune, his wife's fortune, the proceeds of the sale of every acre of land and every foot of timber that he had the power to sell had slipped through his fingers as easily as water through a sieve22, till nothing was left save the old house of Broome, with a few acres of sparsely-timbered land about it, together with two small farms of the rental23 value of eighty pounds a year each, which it was not in the Baronet's power to touch. Beyond that the ruin was complete.
It was when affairs had come to this pass that Lady Pengarvon took it into her head to die. Her husband admitted that, under the circumstances, it was the most sensible thing she could have done. The poor lady was well out of her troubles.
Hardly was the funeral over before the Baronet packed off his daughters to some of their mother's relatives, and shut up the house, after which nothing definite was known as to his movements for nearly three years. At the end of that time information came to hand that Sir Jasper Pengarvon was about to take to himself a second wife, in the person of the daughter of a rich London drysalter, with a fortune of twenty-five thousand pounds.
The new Lady Pengarvon proved to be an unrefined, good-natured woman, who had probably been very pretty when she was a dozen years younger. Between her and the young ladies, her step-daughters, there was a great gulf24, which they took care she should never overpass25. She was their father's wife, and as such they treated her with civility and a certain amount of respect; but it was with a civility that chilled, and with a respect which seemed ever to imply, "We cannot rid ourselves of you, and consequently must tolerate you, bat don't look to us for anything more."
At the end of half a dozen years the second Lady Pengarvon went the way of her predecessor26, fading slowly out of life under the cold, watchful27 eyes of Miss Barbara and her sister, which seemed to say, "We know you can't last long, and we shall not mourn you over-much when you are gone." She left behind her one little daughter, Isabel by name, who was at once packed off to a sister of her mother, near London; then the two Misses Pengarvon breathed more freely, and felt that Providence28 had not been unkind to them.
Meanwhile, Sir Jasper had resumed his old career in London as though there had never been a break in it. The young ladies saw little more of their father after the second Lady Pengarvon's death than they had before. He went down to Broome occasionally for a few days at a time, but that was all. He lived five years longer; then one morning he was found dead in his Mayfair lodging29 with a bullet through his heart. Once more he had come to the end of his resources. It was hopeless to think of marrying a third fortune. There stared him in the face an old age of obscure penury30 away from the haunts he loved so well, and the prospect31 daunted32 him. He died as he had lived, an utter pagan.
A few years later, the aunt with whom Isabel had gone to live died, and Miss Pengarvon found herself under the necessity of sending Barney Dale for the child, there being no other home for her than Broome. Isabel at this time was a blue-eyed, yellow-haired little lady of seven, the very presentment in features and expression of a certain youthful Miss Pengarvon whose portrait by Sir Joshua graced the gallery at Broome. In truth, the drysalter's little grand-daughter had all the traditional beauty of the women of her father's race--a beauty which had so unaccountably lapsed33 in the case of her elder half-sisters, niece though their mother had been to an earl.
It was in the dusk of an autumn afternoon that Barney Dale and his charge reached Broome. The Misses Pengarvon were awaiting the child in the old oak parlor34, which even on the brightest day in summer was gloomy and full of strange shadows. The elder sister came forward a step or two, and taking Isabel by the hand, gazed down in frowning silence on the fair young face, which returned her look with wondering, frightened eyes. A faint momentary35 color flushed her sallow cheeks. Then she stooped and pressed her thin, cold lips to Isabel's forehead.
"So you are come back to Broome, child. They had better have found you another home," she said in her dry, hard voice, in which not the slightest chord of sympathy ever seemed to vibrate. Miss Letitia, who copied her sister in everything, went through a similar formula.
Isabel gazed from one stern, sad-faced woman to the other, and her lips quivered. She turned and clung to Barney's arm.
"Oh, take me away! take me away! I want to go back!" she cried.
Miss Pengarvon turned away in high displeasure, and Barney led the tearful child from the room.
That first night, and many nights afterwards, Isabel cried herself to sleep in the huge four-poster, with its funereal36 draperies, in which they put her to bed. All her life she had been used to being petted and made much of, and had hardly known what it was to be alone. But now she was left by herself in a great ghostly room from six o'clock at night till seven next morning. She felt herself to be quite an unconsidered trifle in that huge ocean of bed. She was morally sure that those grim portraits on the walls--dark, frowning gentlemen in perukes and embroidered37 clothes, and stately ladies in hoops38 and high-heeled shoes--whispered to each other about her, Isabel Pengarvon; and that after the candle was taken away they stepped down out of their frames, and hastened to join the other ghosts in the long gallery, where they danced and flirted39 and took snuff with each other, till some watchful cock on a faraway farm sounded the warning note which sent them back to their faded frames, there to attitudinize in silent mockery till another midnight should come round.
But these first fears gradually wore themselves away, and in time Isabel and the portraits became great friends. She would sit up in bed on moonlight nights, and talk to them by the hour together. She invented private histories for many of them--strings of adventures, such as only a child's brain could have imagined. Like other people, she had her favorites. Among such were "my Lady Bluesash" and "Miss Prettyshoes," "Mr. Longcurls" and "Captain Finelace," all people of quality, who were so good-natured as to have no secrets from Isabel.
With that marvellous adaptability40 which all children possess in a greater or lesser41 degree, Isabel gradually learned to look upon Broome as her home, and to have few cares or interests that were not bounded by its four grey walls. She lighted up the solitary42 old house like a ray of sunshine that warms and brightens at the same time. On Sundays she went with her sisters to church, and was shut up with them in the great oaken pew, with its closely-drawn curtains, where the preacher's voice came to her as the voice of one that crieth in the wilderness43, he himself being altogether unseen, and from whence nothing was visible to her wandering eyes save a portion of the groined roof and two hideous44 gargoyles45, whose staring eyes seemed to watch her every movement.
When Isabel was fourteen years old she was sent to a school in Nottingham to complete her education. Since her arrival at Broome her only teacher had been Miss Letitia, who, in their long hours together over their lessons, had, in her own cold, formal way, grown to like the bright-eyed, high-spirited girl far better than at one time she believed it possible she ever should do. Isabel was away for three years; at seventeen she came home "finished."
She was quite a young lady by this time--tall, slender, and with all the traditional beauty of her race. She was brimming over with mischief46 and high spirits, and she looked forward with dread47 to the dreary48, uneventful life before her, with no company save that of her two middle-aged49 sisters--for Miss Pengarvon was now forty years old, Miss Letitia only two years younger--and to being buried alive, as it were, in that grim old house among the Derbyshire hills. Her life at school had served to show her a little of the world, from which she now felt as if she were about to be shut out forever--just enough, in fact, to make its attractions, known and unknown, all the more alluring50 to her vivid imagination. She had seen the Nottingham shops, gay with the manifold wares51 dear to a girl's heart; she had heard the garrison52 band play delicious waltzes that thrilled her with emotions unknown before, and more than one audacious young officer had turned to look and look again, as she was pacing demurely53 to church with her school-fellows. She had devoured54 all the love stories that had been smuggled55 into the school, and she had heard other girls talking about sweethearts and possible husbands, and she could not help wondering whether anyone would ever fall in love with her. Isabel did what few girls do--she cried bitter tears when the time came for her to bid good-bye to school for ever.
Two year passed without change. Her life of repression56 and isolation57 became at times a burden almost too heavy to be borne. Her nature was affectionate, but impulsive58; she was warm-hearted, but with something wayward in her disposition59, which, under happier circumstances, would doubtless have found a vent7 in high spirits and innocent fun. The end of the matter was that one morning Isabel was missing. She left behind her a note addressed to Miss Pengarvon, in which she stated that she was about to be married to some one who loved her very dearly, and that she would write further particulars in a few days. For some time past, a young gentleman, name unknown, had been stopping at the King's Arms Hotel, Stavering, ostensibly for fishing and sketching60 purposes; but as he and Isabel had been seen together more than once, pacing the sheltered walks by the river, and as he disappeared at the same time, there could be little doubt that they had gone away together. After reading the letter, Miss Pengarvon threw it into the fire. Then she caused all Isabel's clothes to be burnt--not that the poor girl had had anything beyond a very meagre wardrobe--and locked the door of the room which had been hers and took away the key.
"She has disgraced the name she bears. Let us never speak of her again," she said in her bitterest tones to Miss Letitia. The latter was crying quietly to herself. Miss Pengarvon regarded her with silent scorn.
Three weeks later there came a second letter from Isabel, bearing the London postmark, and, a month after that, a third which had been stamped at Southampton. Both these letters Miss Pengarvon burned without opening. After that no further letter came, and it seemed as if Isabel were indeed lost to them for ever.
Three years went by, and then came that snowy December night which brought Isabel back, a suppliant61, to the door of Broome. It has already been told how Miss Pengarvon refused her admittance, how Barney Dale and his wife found her dying, or dead in the snow; and how a reluctant consent was given to her inanimate body being brought indoors by way of the back entrance. From that hour every trace of her vanished. Morning broke, the housemaid came down stairs and went about her duties, suspecting nothing. Neither inside the house nor out was any sign or token to be seen of her, who living or dead, had been carried in but a few hours before. Where was she? What had become of her? Those were questions which four people alone out of all the world could have answered, had they chosen to speak.
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1
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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distinctive
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| adj.特别的，有特色的，与众不同的 | |
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peculiarity
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| n.独特性，特色；特殊的东西；怪癖 | |
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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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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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indigenous
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| adj.土产的，土生土长的，本地的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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10
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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forefathers
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| n.祖先，先人；祖先，祖宗( forefather的名词复数 )；列祖列宗；前人 | |
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15
tiff
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| n.小争吵，生气 | |
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penurious
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| adj.贫困的 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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18
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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19
vegetated
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| v.过单调呆板的生活( vegetate的过去式和过去分词 )；植物似地生长；（瘤、疣等）长大 | |
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thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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sieve
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| n.筛，滤器，漏勺 | |
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rental
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| n.租赁，出租，出租业 | |
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24
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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overpass
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| n.天桥，立交桥 | |
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predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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29
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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30
penury
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| n.贫穷，拮据 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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32
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33
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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34
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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36
funereal
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| adj.悲哀的；送葬的 | |
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37
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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38
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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39
flirted
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
adaptability
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| n.适应性 | |
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41
lesser
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| adj.次要的，较小的；adv.较小地，较少地 | |
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42
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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43
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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44
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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45
gargoyles
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| n.怪兽状滴水嘴( gargoyle的名词复数 ) | |
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46
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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47
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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48
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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49
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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50
alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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51
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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52
garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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53
demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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54
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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55
smuggled
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| 水货 | |
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56
repression
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| n.镇压，抑制，抑压 | |
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57
isolation
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| n.隔离，孤立，分解，分离 | |
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58
impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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59
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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60
sketching
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| n.草图 | |
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61
suppliant
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| adj.哀恳的；n.恳求者，哀求者 | |
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