It was to meet this latter train that Mr Bray1’s barouche was being rattled2 over the newly macadamised roads, with Charley Vining and Laura therein.
No one could have sat by Laura’s side for an instant without remarking her extreme agitation3; and as Charley turned to gaze in her pleading face, he felt something like pity warming his breast towards her—her agitation was so genuine, and she had shown him the night before how earnest and passionate4 was her love.
Pity is said to be very nearly akin5 to love, and Charley’s pity was growing stronger. Why should he not take the good the gods provided him? She asked no more. But no; there was that one great proof wanted; and his words were quite cold and commonplace as he said to her, “You seem unwell. Do you not think it would be better to return home? Why, this poor little hand is quite chilly6, and you shiver. You must have taken cold last night.”
“Cold? Last night? No, no,” she said hoarsely7; and he felt the pressure upon his hand tighten8. “We must meet Nelly, and I am quite well, Charley. I never felt more happy.”
He encountered her glance, but it awoke no response in his breast; and as he read her countenance9, he saw there the tokens of a terrible agitation, and surely he may be excused for imagining himself the cause.
“At last!” said Charley impatiently, as he handed Laura out, trembling violently; but the next moment, though she was deathly pale, the agitation seemed to have passed away, and taking his arm, she held to it tightly.
“Ten minutes too soon,” said Charley. “Shall we go round to the waiting-room?”
“Yes, please,” cried Laura eagerly; and walking round, he stopped to read a waybill.
“Let me see,” he said; “this train leaves first. Ours comes in five minutes after.”
“Take me into the waiting-room,” said Laura anxiously. “It is cold out here.”
“I fear that you are going to be unwell,” he said, attending to her request.
“No; indeed, indeed I am quite well, dearest Charley,” she whispered, and an impatient frown crossed his brow; but he said no more, only half led, half followed her to a window looking out upon the platform, where there was the customary hurry previous to the departure of a train, when the first bell has rung. Porters running here and there with luggage, cool passengers, excited passengers, box- and wrapper-laden ladies’-maids seeking second-class carriages; footmen bearing fasces of umbrellas and walking-sticks; heavy swells10 seeking smoking-compartments; Smith’s boys shouting the evening papers; and as they gazed through the great plate-glass window of the waiting-room, the hurry and bustle12 seemed to have an interest for Charley he had never known before.
“We shall be in plenty of time when this train has gone,” said Laura; and she clung very tightly to his arm. “I long to see Nelly again. Don’t you think she improves?”
“Very much. I quite love that child!” said Charley with some animation13. “She is so piquante, and fresh, and genuine!”
A sort of gasping14 sigh escaped from Laura’s breast, but he would not heed15 it.
And now the bustle was nearly over; the last bell had rung, the inspector16 had taken his last glance, the doors were banging, and the guard’s whistle was at his lips, when the inspector held up his hand, as there came the pattering of hastening feet on the platform.
“Bai Jove, portare, make haste, or we shall miss it!” cried a familiar voice.
“This way, sir,” was the reply; and an official trotted17 by with a black portmanteau on his shoulder and a bag in his hand; and Charley started as if he had received a fatal stab, for directly following, clinging to Max Bray’s arm, shawled and muffled18, and pale as ashes, Ella Bedford passed the window.
“Max!” exclaimed Laura excitedly, while, as Charley made a movement to reach the door, she clung to his arm. “Dearest Charley,” she whispered in low impassioned tones, “my own love, my dear life, do not leave me! pray, pray do not leave! I love you dearly, more dearly than ever, and my heart bleeds for you—truly—faithfully!” She could say no more, for her emotion choked her utterance19; but she clung to him wildly, as he stood, now pale and motionless as a statue, gazing through the window. And in those brief moments what had he seen?
Ella handed into a first-class compartment11, Max following her, while her pale face was directly opposite to Charley, and only a couple of carriage-lengths distant. Then came the bang of the door, the piping whistle, the shriek20 of the engine, then the rapidly increasing panting snorts as of impatience21 to be off; the carriages glided22 by; and where Ella Bedford’s face had been the moment before, was first one and then another, strangers all; then the guards own, then blankness—a blankness that seemed to have made its way to his soul, till looking down he became aware of the stony23 face gazing up into his, the wild eyes, the parted lips, and the arms clinging to him so tightly.
His face softened24 as he gazed down at her, and then a sigh tore its way from his breast; a sigh that seemed to bear with it the image of a pale sweet face; and from that moment it was to Charley Vining as if he had been transformed into another man.
“My poor girl!” he said softly, more than pityingly, as he drew her arm closer to his breast.
“Charley!” she sighed gently; but there were volumes in that one word; and had they been alone, she would have thrown herself upon his breast, where she felt now she might cling. Then her eyes closed, a faint hysterical25 sob26 passed her lips, and she smiled, as if from a sense of ineffable27 satisfaction, as she felt his strong arms supporting her—that he was bearing her towards the inner room; and then all was blank.
Ten minutes after, Laura unclosed her eyes, to find herself upon a couch, with Nelly and Charley at her side; and starting up, she rested upon one elbow. Then she fixed28 her eyes upon the latter, and caught at his hand.
“You will not leave me?” she gasped29 hoarsely.
“No!” he whispered almost tenderly. “I feared that you were unwell.” And he passed his hand across her damp brow, smoothing back the raven30 hair; and Laura sank back, her eyes closed and a smile upon her lip, drawing with her his hand, which she held tightly in both hers; for, saving Nelly, they were now alone.
A quarter of an hour passed in silence, and then Charley Vining said gently:
“Do you think you can bear to be moved?”
“Yes,” she said, rising eagerly and fixing her eyes upon his, “if you are with me. But,” she said, leaning towards him and whispering, “do not be angry; only tell me, to set me at rest—tell me that you will not—Max—dear Charley, you know what I mean.”
“Follow Max—your brother?” said Charley sternly; “no!”
The next minute Laura was leaning upon his arm, and they sought the carriage, Nelly taking Charley’s other arm, and whispering to him as he turned towards her with a sad smile on his lip, “I’m so sorry, Charley, and yet so glad, and I don’t know how I feel; but tell me, is it to be brother Charley?”
“Hush!” said the other sternly, as they reached the carriage.
Had he not been so preoccupied31, Charley Vining would have seen that a strange man, rather shabbily-dressed, was close beside him, vainly attempting to gain his attention; for, after handing Laura and her sister into the barouche, he was about to leave them to return alone; but the imploring32 look of dread33 in Laura’s eyes stayed him, and yielding to her outstretched hand, he leaped in and took his place opposite.
Upon reaching Harley-street the strange man seemed to be there before them, and Charley would again have left, but Laura begged him to go with her upstairs; and seeing how pale and disturbed she was, he accompanied her to the drawing-room.
“There!—need I tell you on my honour,” he said, taking her hand gently, “you need be under no fear.”
“And—and, Charley,” she said appealingly, “you will not judge me harshly?”
“Judge you harshly?” he said; “no.” And as she held out her hands to him, he took her gently to his breast and kissed her.
“Do you know how happy you have made me?” she whispered, clinging to him and gazing up in his pale honest face.
“No,” he said in the same tone; “but I fear I have pained you sorely.”
“Charley!”
“Laura!”
There was no other sound heard in that room but those softly uttered words; and when, a minute or two after, Mrs Bray quietly opened the door unobserved, she stepped back again on the points of her toes smiling with a satisfied air, and posted herself as a sentinel upon the stairs.
And all this while that strange man was impatiently watching the windows from the other side of the street.
“Couldn’t get to see you before, sir,” said a voice, as Charley Vining left Mr Bray’s house in Harley-street. “Perhaps you’ll run over that while I follow you and wait for farther orders.”
Charley started, and looked up to see that a rather shabbily-dressed man was walking away from him, after placing a note in his hands.
“Mr M.B. went to Crescent Villas34 at nine this morning, stayed ten minutes, returned to Bury-street, left Bury-street at three in a cab with a black portmanteau, and was driven to the front of the Colosseum. Waited an hour, and was then joined by Miss E.B. carrying a small black bag—very pale, and evidently been crying. Mr M.B. said aloud, ‘At last!’ as he handed her into the cab. Driven rapidly to Paddington-station. Took first-class tickets to Penzance, and left by 4:50 express. Are we to follow?”
So read Charley Vining, the letters at times swimming before his eyes. He glanced round, and the bearer was a dozen yards in his rear. But he waved him back. A quarter of an hour ago, and he had told himself that he was free; but the suggestion at the end of the letter whispered him that some links of his old chains still clung around. But no; he would not have them followed. Why should he? What was it to him? But for his infatuation, he might have known to what all was tending. It was nothing to him now; but a sigh that was almost a sob escaped from his breast, as, once more turning, he waited till the man was alongside.
“Tell Mr Whittrick he need take no farther steps,” said Charley in a voice that he hardly knew for his own; and touching35 his hat, without another word, the man glided off, disappearing round the corner of the next street so rapidly, that when, upon second thoughts, Charley would have set him another task, and hurried after him with that intention, he was out of sight.
Five minutes after, Charley was in a cab and on his way to Crescent Villas; where, after a little parley36, he was now admitted to the presence of Mrs Marter, red-eyed, furious, and ready, apparently37, to make an onslaught upon the first person who offended her.
Before he had been there long, the rapid flow of the angry woman’s words told of how, by cunning, flattering, and attention, Max Bray had gained a footing in the house; the weak vain woman believing that his visits were all upon her account, and willingly accepting the presence of Ella as a blind. Her only sin was a love of flattery, attention, and Max Bray’s escorts to the various places of amusement; but now the veil had dropped from her eyes, and she spoke38.
“It has all been planned for long enough,” she exclaimed passionately39, “and they have gone off together.” And then she burst forth40 into a furious tirade41 against deceit, forgetful entirely42 of how she was hoist43 with her own petard.
Charley could hear no more, but hurried away, confused, doubting, heart-sick. What faith could he place in any one again? He had gone to Crescent Villas in the hope that he was, after all, wrong; that there was some mistake which might be cleared up; and according to this woman the idol44 of his heart had been a monster of treachery and deceit.
He was ready to make any allowance for the mad passion of a woman who found that she had been made the tool of the designing; but, after all, what could he say to his wounded heart after the scenes he had witnessed? What right had he now to trouble himself, though—what was it to him? There was nothing to palliate what he had seen; and now he must begin life afresh. What he had to do was to draw a line across the mental diary of his life—a thick black mark between the present and the bygone—and at that line he told himself his thoughts must always stay; for upon that past he could not bear to dwell.
Forgive her? He had nothing to forgive. She had always told him, from the first, that it could not be; while he had blindly and impetuously rushed on to his heart’s destruction.
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收听单词发音
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1
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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2
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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3
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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4
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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5
akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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7
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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8
tighten
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| v.(使)变紧；(使)绷紧 | |
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9
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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10
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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11
compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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13
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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14
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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15
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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16
inspector
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| n.检查员，监察员，视察员 | |
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17
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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18
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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19
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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20
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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21
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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22
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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23
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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24
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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25
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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26
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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28
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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29
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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30
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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31
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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32
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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33
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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34
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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35
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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36
parley
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| n.谈判 | |
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37
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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38
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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39
passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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40
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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41
tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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42
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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43
hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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44
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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