After the stirring events of the revival1, it was only to be expected that this routine, home-made affair should suffer from a reaction. The attendance was larger than usual, perhaps, but the proceedings2 were spiritless and tame. Neither the pastor3 nor his wife was present at the beginning, and the class-leader upon whom control devolved made but feeble headway against the spell of inertia4 which the hot night-air laid upon the gathering5. Long pauses intervened between the perfunctory praise-offerings and supplications, and the hymns6 weariedly raised from time to time fell again in languor7 by the wayside.
Alice came in just as people were beginning to hope that some one would start the Doxology, and bring matters to a close. Her appearance apparently8 suggested this to the class-leader, for in a few moments the meeting had been dismissed, and some of the members, on their way out, were shaking hands with their minister's wife, and expressing the polite hope that he was better. The worried look in her face, and the obvious stains of recent tears upon her cheeks imparted an added point and fervor9 to these inquiries10, but she replied to all in tones of studied tranquillity11 that, although not feeling well enough to attend prayer-meeting, Brother Ware12 was steadily13 recovering strength, and confidently expected to be in complete health by Sunday. They left her, and could hardly wait to get into the vestibule to ask one another in whispers what on earth she could have been crying about.
Meanwhile Brother Ware improved his convalescent state by pacing slowly up and down under the elms on the side of the street opposite the Catholic church. There were no houses here for a block and more; the sidewalk was broken in many places, so that passers-by avoided it; the overhanging boughs15 shrouded16 it all in obscurity; it was preeminently a place to be alone in.
Theron had driven to the depot17 with his guests an hour before, and after a period of pleasant waiting on the platform, had said good-bye to them as the train moved away. Then he turned to Alice, who had also accompanied them in the carriage, and was conscious of a certain annoyance18 at her having come. That long familiar talk of the afternoon had given him the feeling that he was entitled to bid farewell to Sister Soulsby—to both the Soulsbys—by himself.
“I am afraid folks will think it strange—neither of us attending the prayer-meeting,” he said, with a suggestion of reproof19 in his tone, as they left the station-yard.
“If we get back in time, I'll run in for a minute,” answered Alice, with docility20.
“No—no,” he broke in. “I'm not equal to walking so fast. You run on ahead, and explain matters, and I will come along slowly.”
“The hack21 we came in is still there in the yard,” the wife suggested. “We could drive home in that. I don't believe it would cost more than a quarter—and if you're feeling badly—”
“But I am NOT feeling badly,” Theron replied, with frank impatience22. “Only I feel—I feel that being alone with my thoughts would be good for me.”
“Oh, certainly—by all means!” Alice had said, and turned sharply on her heel.
Being alone with these thoughts, Theron strolled aimlessly about, and did not think at all. The shadows gathered, and fireflies began to disclose their tiny gleams among the shrubbery in the gardens. A lamp-lighter came along, and passed him, leaving in his wake a straggling double line of lights, glowing radiantly against the black-green of the trees. This recalled to Theron that he had heard that the town council lit the street lamps by the almanac, and economized23 gas when moonshine was due. The idea struck him as droll24, and he dwelt upon it in various aspects, smiling at some of its comic possibilities. Looking up in the middle of one of these whimsical conceits25, the sportive impulse died suddenly within him. He realized that it was dark, and that the massive black bulk reared against the sky on the other side of the road was the Catholic church. The other fact, that he had been there walking to and fro for some time, was borne in upon him more slowly. He turned, and resumed the pacing up and down with a still more leisurely26 step, musing27 upon the curious way in which people's minds all unconsciously follow about where instincts and intuitions lead.
No doubt it was what Sister Soulsby had said about Catholics which had insensibly guided his purposeless stroll in this direction. What a woman that was! Somehow the purport28 of her talk—striking, and even astonishing as he had found it—did not stand out so clearly in his memory as did the image of the woman herself. She must have been extremely pretty once. For that matter she still was a most attractive-looking woman. It had been a genuine pleasure to have her in the house—to see her intelligent responsive face at the table—to have it in one's power to make drafts at will upon the fund of sympathy and appreciation29, of facile mirth and ready tenderness in those big eyes of hers. He liked that phrase she had used about herself—“a good fellow.” It seemed to fit her to a “t.” And Soulsby was a good fellow too. All at once it occurred to him to wonder whether they were married or not.
But really that was no affair of his, he reflected. A citizen of the intellectual world should be above soiling his thoughts with mean curiosities of that sort, and he drove the impertinent query30 down again under the surface of his mind. He refused to tolerate, as well, sundry31 vagrant32 imaginings which rose to cluster about and literalize the romance of her youth which Sister Soulsby had so frankly33 outlined. He would think upon nothing but her as he knew her,—the kindly34, quick-witted, capable and charming woman who had made such a brilliant break in the monotony of life at that dull parsonage of his. The only genuine happiness in life must consist in having bright, smart, attractive women like that always about.
The lights were visible now in the upper rooms of Father Forbes' pastorate across the way. Theron paused for a second to consider whether he wanted to go over and call on the priest. He decided35 that mentally he was too fagged and flat for such an undertaking36. He needed another sort of companionship—some restful, soothing37 human contact, which should exact nothing from him in return, but just take charge of him, with soft, wise words and pleasant plays of fancy, and jokes and—and—something of the general effect created by Sister Soulsby's eyes. The thought expanded itself, and he saw that he had never realized before—nay, never dreamt before—what a mighty38 part the comradeship of talented, sweet-natured and beautiful women must play in the development of genius, the achievement of lofty aims, out in the great world of great men. To know such women—ah, that would never fall to his hapless lot.
The priest's lamps blinked at him through the trees. He remembered that priests were supposed to be even further removed from the possibilities of such contact than he was himself. His memory reverted39 to that horribly ugly old woman whom Father Forbes had spoken of as his housekeeper41. Life under the same roof with such a hag must be even worse than—worse than—
The young minister did not finish the comparison, even in the privacy of his inner soul. He stood instead staring over at the pastorate, in a kind of stupor42 of arrested thought. The figure of a woman passed in view at the nearest window—a tall figure with pale summer clothes of some sort, and a broad summer hat—a flitting effect of diaphanous43 shadow between him and the light which streamed from the casement44.
Theron felt a little shiver run over him, as if the delicate coolness of the changing night-air had got into his blood. The window was open, and his strained hearing thought it caught the sound of faint laughter. He continued to gaze at the place where the vision had appeared, the while a novel and strange perception unfolded itself upon his mind.
He had come there in the hope of encountering Celia Madden.
Now that he looked this fact in the face, there was nothing remarkable45 about it. In truth, it was simplicity46 itself. He was still a sick man, weak in body and dejected in spirits. The thought of how unhappy and unstrung he was came to him now with an insistent47 pathos48 that brought tears to his eyes. He was only obeying the universal law of nature—the law which prompts the pallid49 spindling sprout50 of the potato in the cellar to strive feebly toward the light.
From where he stood in the darkness he stretched out his hands in the direction of that open window. The gesture was his confession51 to the overhanging boughs, to the soft night-breeze, to the stars above—and it bore back to him something of the confessional's vague and wistful solace52. He seemed already to have drawn53 down into his soul a taste of the refreshment54 it craved55. He sighed deeply, and the hot moisture smarted again upon his eyelids56, but this time not all in grief. With his tender compassion57 for himself there mingled58 now a flutter of buoyant prescience, of exquisite59 expectancy60.
Fate walked abroad this summer night. The street door of the pastorate opened, and in the flood of illumination which spread suddenly forth61 over the steps and sidewalk, Theron saw again the tall form, with the indefinitely light-hued flowing garments and the wide straw hat. He heard a tuneful woman's voice call out “Good-night, Maggie,” and caught no response save the abrupt62 closing of the door, which turned everything black again with a bang. He listened acutely for another instant, and then with long, noiseless strides made his way down his deserted63 side of the street. He moderated his pace as he turned to cross the road at the corner, and then, still masked by the trees, halted altogether, in a momentary64 tumult65 of apprehension66. No—yes—it was all right. The girl sauntered out from the total darkness into the dim starlight of the open corner.
“Why, bless me, is that you, Miss Madden?”
Celia seemed to discern readily enough, through the accents of surprise, the identity of the tall, slim man who addressed her from the shadows.
“Good-evening, Mr. Ware,” she said, with prompt affability. “I'm so glad to find you out again. We heard you were ill.”
“I have been very ill,” responded Theron, as they shook hands and walked on together. He added, with a quaver in his voice, “I am still far from strong. I really ought not to be out at all. But—but the longing67 for—for—well, I COULDN'T stay in any longer. Even if it kills me, I shall be glad I came out tonight.”
“Oh, we won't talk of killing,” said Celia. “I don't believe in illnesses myself.”
“But you believe in collapses68 of the nerves,” put in Theron, with gentle sadness, “in moral and spiritual and mental breakdowns69. I remember how I was touched by the way you told me YOU suffered from them. I had to take what you said then for granted. I had had no experience of it myself. But now I know what it is.” He drew a long, pathetic sigh. “Oh, DON'T I know what it is!” he repeated gloomily.
“Come, my friend, cheer up,” Celia purred at him, in soothing tones. He felt that there was a deliciously feminine and sisterly intuition in her speech, and in the helpful, nurse-like way in which she drew his arm through hers. He leaned upon this support, and was glad of it in every fibre of his being.
“Do you remember? You promised—that last time I saw you—to play for me,” he reminded her. They were passing the little covered postern door at the side and rear of the church as he spoke40, and he made a half halt to point the coincidence.
“Oh, there's no one to blow the organ,” she said, divining his suggestion. “And I haven't the key—and, besides, the organ is too heavy and severe for an invalid70. It would overwhelm you tonight.”
“Not as you would know how to play it for me,” urged Theron, pensively71. “I feel as if good music to-night would make me well again. I am really very ill and weak—and unhappy!”
The girl seemed moved by the despairing note in his voice. She invited him by a sympathetic gesture to lean even more directly on her arm.
“Come home with me, and I'll play Chopin to you,” she said, in compassionate72 friendliness73. “He is the real medicine for bruised74 and wounded nerves. You shall have as much of him as you like.”
The idea thus unexpectedly thrown forth spread itself like some vast and inexpressibly alluring75 vista76 before Theron's imagination. The spice of adventure in it fascinated his mind as well, but for a shrinking moment the flesh was weak.
“I'm afraid your people would—would think it strange,” he faltered—and began also to recall that he had some people of his own who would be even more amazed.
“Nonsense,” said Celia, in fine, bold confidence, and with a reassuring77 pressure on his arm. “I allow none of my people to question what I do. They never dream of such a preposterous78 thing. Besides, you will see none of them. Mrs. Madden is at the seaside, and my father and brother have their own part of the house. I shan't listen for a minute to your not coming. Come, I'm your doctor. I'm to make you well again.”
There was further conversation, and Theron more or less knew that he was bearing a part in it, but his whole mind seemed concentrated, in a sort of delicious terror, upon the wonderful experience to which every footstep brought him nearer. His magnetized fancy pictured a great spacious79 parlor80, such as a mansion81 like the Maddens' would of course contain, and there would be a grand piano, and lace curtains, and paintings in gold frames, and a chandelier, and velvet82 easy-chairs, and he would sit in one of these, surrounded by all the luxury of the rich, while Celia played to him. There would be servants about, he presumed, and very likely they would recognize him, and of course they would talk about it to Tom, Dick and Harry83 afterward84. But he said to himself defiantly85 that he didn't care.
He withdrew his arm from hers as they came upon the well-lighted main street. He passed no one who seemed to know him. Presently they came to the Madden place, and Celia, without waiting for the gravelled walk, struck obliquely86 across the lawn. Theron, who had been lagging behind with a certain circumspection87, stepped briskly to her side now. Their progress over the soft, close-cropped turf in the dark together, with the scent14 of lilies and perfumed shrubs88 heavy on the night air, and the majestic89 bulk of the big silent house rising among the trees before them, gave him a thrilling sense of the glory of individual freedom.
“I feel a new man already,” he declared, as they swung along on the grass. He breathed a long sigh of content, and drew nearer, so that their shoulders touched now and again as they walked. In a minute more they were standing90 on the doorstep, and Theron heard the significant jingle91 of a bunch of keys which his companion was groping for in her elusive92 pocket. He was conscious of trembling a little at the sound.
It seemed that, unlike other people, the Maddens did not have their parlor on the ground-floor, opening off the front hall. Theron stood in the complete darkness of this hall, till Celia had lit one of several candles which were in their hand-sticks on a sort of sideboard next the hat-rack. She beckoned93 him with a gesture of her head, and he followed her up a broad staircase, magnificent in its structural94 appointments of inlaid woods, and carpeted with what to his feet felt like down. The tiny light which his guide bore before her half revealed, as they passed in their ascent95, tall lengths of tapestry96, and the dull glint of armor and brazen97 discs in shadowed niches98 on the nearer wall. Over the stair-rail lay an open space of such stately dimensions, bounded by terminal lines of decoration so distant in the faint candle-flicker, that the young country minister could think of no word but “palatial” to fit it all.
At the head of the flight, Celia led the way along a wide corridor to where it ended. Here, stretched from side to side, and suspended from broad hoops99 of a copper-like metal, was a thick curtain, of a uniform color which Theron at first thought was green, and then decided must be blue. She pushed its heavy folds aside, and unlocked another door. He passed under the curtain behind her, and closed the door.
The room into which he had made his way was not at all after the fashion of any parlor he had ever seen. In the obscure light it was difficult to tell what it resembled. He made out what he took to be a painter's easel, standing forth independently in the centre of things. There were rows of books on rude, low shelves. Against one of the two windows was a big, flat writing-table—or was it a drawing-table?—littered with papers. Under the other window was a carpenter's bench, with a large mound100 of something at one end covered with a white cloth. On a table behind the easel rose a tall mechanical contrivance, the chief feature of which was a thick upright spiral screw. The floor was of bare wood stained brown. The walls of this queer room had photographs and pictures, taken apparently from illustrated101 papers, pinned up at random102 for their only ornament103.
Celia had lighted three or four other candles on the mantel. She caught the dumfounded expression with which her guest was surveying his surroundings, and gave a merry little laugh.
“This is my workshop,” she explained. “I keep this for the things I do badly—things I fool with. If I want to paint, or model in clay, or bind104 books, or write, or draw, or turn on the lathe105, or do some carpentering, here's where I do it. All the things that make a mess which has to be cleaned up—they are kept out here—because this is as far as the servants are allowed to come.”
She unlocked still another door as she spoke—a door which was also concealed106 behind a curtain.
“Now,” she said, holding up the candle so that its reddish flare107 rounded with warmth the creamy fulness of her chin and throat, and glowed upon her hair in a flame of orange light—“now I will show you what is my very own.”
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1
revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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inertia
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| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
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5
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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6
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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7
languor
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| n.无精力，倦怠 | |
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8
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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9
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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10
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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12
ware
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| n.(常用复数)商品，货物 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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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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15
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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17
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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18
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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19
reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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docility
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| n.容易教，易驾驶，驯服 | |
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hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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22
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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23
economized
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| v.节省，减少开支( economize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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droll
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| adj.古怪的，好笑的 | |
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conceits
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| 高傲( conceit的名词复数 )； 自以为； 巧妙的词语； 别出心裁的比喻 | |
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26
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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30
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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reverted
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| 恢复( revert的过去式和过去分词 )； 重提； 回到…上； 归还 | |
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40
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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41
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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42
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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43
diaphanous
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| adj.(布)精致的，半透明的 | |
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44
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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45
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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46
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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47
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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48
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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49
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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50
sprout
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| n.芽，萌芽；vt.使发芽，摘去芽；vi.长芽，抽条 | |
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51
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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52
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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53
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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54
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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55
craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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56
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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57
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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58
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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59
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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60
expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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61
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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62
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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collapses
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| 折叠( collapse的第三人称单数 )； 倒塌； 崩溃； （尤指工作劳累后）坐下 | |
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breakdowns
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| n.分解( breakdown的名词复数 )；衰竭；（车辆或机器的）损坏；统计分析 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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compassionate
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| adj.有同情心的，表示同情的 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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circumspection
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| n.细心，慎重 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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structural
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| adj.构造的，组织的，建筑（用）的 | |
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ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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niches
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| 壁龛( niche的名词复数 )； 合适的位置[工作等]； （产品的）商机； 生态位（一个生物所占据的生境的最小单位） | |
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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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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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103
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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104
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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lathe
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| n.车床，陶器，镟床 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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