I FELT that I was on sufficiently3 intimate terms with Mrs Albert Grundy to tell her that she was not looking well. She gave a weary little sigh and said she knew it.
Indeed, poor lady, it was apparent enough. She has taken of late to wearing her hair drawn4 up from her forehead over a roll—the effect of mouse-tints at which Nature is beginning to hint, being frankly5 helped out by powder. Everybody about Fernbank recognises that in some way this reform has altered the whole state of affairs. The very servant who comes to the door, or who brings in the tea-things, seems to carry herself in a different manner since the change has been made. Of course, it is by no means a new fashion, but it was not until the Dowager Countess of Thames-Ditton brought it in person to Fernbank that Mrs Albert could be quite sure of its entire suitability. Up to that time it had seemed to her a style rather adapted to lady lecturers and the wives of men who write: and though Mrs Albert has the very highest regard for literature—quite dotes on it, as she says—she is somewhat inclined to sniff6 at its wives.
We all feel that the change adds character to Mrs Albert’s face—or rather exhibits now that true managing and resourceful temper, which was formerly7 obscured and weakened by a fringe. But the new arrangement has the defects of its qualities. It does not lend itself to tricks. The countenance8 beneath it does not easily dissemble anxiety or mask fatigue9. And both were written broadly over Mrs Albert’s fine face. “Yes,” she said, “I know it.”
The consoling suggestion that soon the necessity of giving home-dinners to the directors in her husband’s companies would have ended, and that then a few weeks out of London, away somewhere in the air of the mountains or the sea, would bring back all her wonted strength and spirits, did no good. She shook her head and sighed again.
“No,” she said, “it isn’t physical. That is to say, it is physical, but the cause is mental. It is over-worry.”
“Of all people on earth—you!” I replied reproachfully. “Why think of it—a husband who is the dream of docile10 propriety11, a competency broadening each year into a fortune, a home like this, such servants, such appointments, such a circle of admiring friends—and then your daughters! Why, to be the mother of such a girl as Ermyntrude———-”
“Precisely,” interrupted Mrs Albert. “To be the mother of such a girl, as you say. Little you know what it really means! But, no—I know what you were going to say—please don’t! it is too sad a subject.”
I could do nothing but feebly strive to look my surprise. To think of sadness connected with tall, handsome, good-hearted Ermie, was impossible.
“You think I am exaggerating, I know,” Mrs Albert went on. “Ah, you do not know!”
“Nothing could be more evident,” I replied, “than that I don’t know. I can’t even imagine what on earth you are driving at.”
Mrs Albert paused for a moment, and pushed the toe of her wee slipper12 meditatively13 back and forth14 on the figure of the carpet.
“Yes, I will tell you,” she said at last. “You are such an old friend of the family that you are almost one of us. And besides, you are always sympathetic—so different from Dudley. Well, the point is this. You know the young man—Sir Watkyn’s son—Mr Eustace Hump.”
“I have met him here,” I assented15.
“Well, I doubt if you will meet him here any more,” Mrs Albert said, impressively.
“The deprivation16 shall not drive me to despair or drink,” I assured her. “I will watch over myself.”
“I dare say you did not care much for him,” said Mrs Albert. “I know Dudley didn’t. But, all the same, he was eligible17. He is an only son, and his father is a Baronet—an hereditary18 title—and they are rolling in wealth. And Eustace himself, when you get to know him, has some very admirable qualities. You know he writes!”
“I have heard him say so,” I responded, perhaps not over graciously.
“O, regularly, for a number of weekly papers. It is understood that quite frequently he gets paid—not of course that that matters to him—but his associations are distinctly literary. I have always felt that with his tastes and connections his wife—granting of course that she was the right kind of woman—might at last set up a real literary salon19 in London. We have wanted one so long, you know.”
“Have we?” I murmured listlessly, striving all the while to guess what relation all this bore to the question of Ermyntrude. I built up in my mind a hostile picture of the odious20 Hump, with his shoulders sloping off like a German wine-bottle, his lean neck battlemented in high starched21 walls of linen22, and his foolish conceited23 face—and leaped hopefully to the conclusion that Ermyntrude had rejected him. I could not keep the notion to myself.
“Well—has she sent him about his business?” I asked, making ready to beam with delight.
“No,” said Mrs Albert, ruefully. “It never got to that, so far as I can gather—but at all events it is all over. I expect every morning now to read the announcement in the Morning Post that a marriage has been arranged between him and—and—Miss Wallaby!”
I sat upright, and felt myself smiling. “What!—the girl with the black ribbon round her neck?” I asked comfortably.
“It would be more appropriate round her heart,” remarked Mrs Albert, with bitterness in her tone. “Why, do you know? her mother, for all that she’s Lady Wallaby, hasn’t an ‘h’ in her whole composition.”
“Well, neither has old Sir Watkyn Hump,” I rejoined pleasantly. “So it’s a fair exchange.”
“Ah, but he can afford it,” put in Mrs Albert. “But the Wallabys—well, I can only say that I had a right to look for different treatment at their hands. How, do you suppose, they would ever have been asked to the Hon. Mrs Coon-Alwyn’s garden-party, or met Lady Thames-Ditton, or been put in society generally, if I had not taken an interest in them? Why, that girl’s father, old Sir Willoughby Wallaby, was never anything but chief of police, or something like that, out in some Australian convict settlement. I have heard he was knighted by mistake, but of course my lips are sealed.”
“I suppose they really have behaved badly,” I said, half interrogatively.
“Badly!” echoed the wrathful mother. “I will leave you to judge. It was done here, quite under my own roof. You know Miss Wallaby volunteered her services, and went down into the Retired24 Licensed25 Victuallers’ Division of Surrey to electioneer for Sir Watkyn. Do you know, I never suspected anything. And then Miss Timby-Hucks, she went down also, but they rather cold-shouldered her, and she came back, and she told me things, and still I wouldn’t believe it. Well then—three weeks ago—my Evening At Home—you were here—the Wallabys came as large as life, and that scheming young person manoeuvred about until she got herself alone with Eustace and my Ermyntrude, and then she told her a scene she had witnessed during her recent election experiences. There was a meeting for Sir Watkyn at some place, I can’t recall the name, and there were a good many of the other side there, and they hooted26 and shouted, and raised disturbance27, until at last there was one speaker they would not hear at all. All this that girl told Ermyntrude seriously, and as if she were overflowing28 with indignation. And then she came to the part where the speaker stood his ground and tried to make himself heard, and the crowd yelled louder than ever, and still he doggedly29 persisted—and then someone threw a large vegetable marrow30, soft and very ripe, and it hit that speaker just under the ear, and burst all over him!”
“Ha-ha-ha!” I ejaculated. “The vegetable marrow in politics is new—full of delightful31 possibilities and seeds—wonder it has never been thought of before.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Albert, with a sigh. “Ermyntrude also thought it was funny. She has a very keen sense of humour—quite too keen. She laughed, too!”
“And why not?” I asked.
“Why not?” demanded Mrs Albert, with shining eyes. “Because the story had been told just to trap her into laughing—because—because the speaker upon whom that unhappy vegetable marrow exploded was—Eustace Hump!”
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1
illustrating
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| 给…加插图( illustrate的现在分词 )； 说明； 表明； （用示例、图画等）说明 | |
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2
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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7
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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slipper
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| n.拖鞋 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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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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deprivation
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| n.匮乏；丧失；夺去，贫困 | |
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eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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licensed
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| adj.得到许可的v.许可，颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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hooted
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| （使）作汽笛声响，作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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28
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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29
doggedly
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| adv.顽强地，固执地 | |
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marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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31
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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