It was all very well for Evey to talk. She might, of course, have been wiser in the beginning. She might have confined the creature to their big monthly crushes, where, as Evey had suggested, she would easily have been mislaid and lost. But so, unfortunately, would Wilkinson; and the whole point was how not to lose him.
Evey said she was tired of being told off to entertain Mrs. Wilkinson. She was beginning to be rather disagreeable about it. She said Cornelia was getting to care too much about that Wilkinson man. She wouldn't have minded playing up to her if she had approved of the game; but Mrs. Wilkinson was, after all, you know, Mr. Wilkinson's wife.
Mrs. Norman cried a little. She told Evey she ought to have known it was his spirit that she cared about. But she owned that it wasn't right to sacrifice poor Evey. Neither, since he had a wife, was it altogether right for her to care about Wilkinson's spirit to the exclusion3 of her other friends.
Then, one Friday, Mrs. Norman, relieving her sister for once, made a discovery while Evey, who was a fine musician, played. Mrs. Wilkinson did, after all, take an interest in something; she was accessible to the throbbing4 of Evey's bow across the strings5.
She had started; her eyes had turned from Wilkinson and fastened on the player. There was a light in them, beautiful and piercing, as if her soul had suddenly been released from some hiding-place in its unlovely house. Her face softened6, her mouth relaxed, her eyes closed. She lay back in her chair, at peace, withdrawn7 from them, positively8 lost.
Mrs. Norman slipped across the room to the corner where Wilkinson sat alone. His face lightened as she came. [Pg 87]
"It's extraordinary," he said, "her love of music."
Mrs. Norman assented9. It was extraordinary, if you came to think of it. Mrs. Wilkinson had no understanding of the art. What did it mean to her? Where did it take her? You could see she was transported, presumably to some place of chartered stupidity, of condoned10 oblivion, where nobody could challenge her right to enter and remain.
"So soothing," said Wilkinson, "to the nerves."
Mrs. Norman smiled at him. She felt that, under cover of the music, his spirit was seeking communion with hers.
He thanked her at parting; the slight hush11 and mystery of his manner intimated that she had found a way.
"I hope," she said, "you'll come often—often."
"May we? May we?" He seemed to leap at it—as if they hadn't come often enough before!
Certainly she had found the way—the way to deliver him, the way to pacify12 his wife, to remove her gently to her place and keep her there.
The dreadful lady thus creditably disposed of, Wilkinson was no longer backward in the courting of his opportunity. He proved punctual to the first minute of the golden hour.
Hampstead was immensely interested in his blossoming forth13. It found a touching14 simplicity15 in the way he lent himself to the sympathetic eye. All the world was at liberty to observe his intimacy16 with Mrs. Norman.
It endured for nine weeks. Then suddenly, to Mrs. Norman's bewilderment, it ceased. The Wilkinsons left off coming to her Friday evenings. They refused her invitations. Their behavior was so abrupt17 and so mysterious that Mrs. Norman felt that something must [Pg 88] have happened to account for it. Somebody, she had no doubt, had been talking. She was much annoyed with Wilkinson in consequence, and, when she met him accidentally in the High Street, her manner conveyed to him her just resentment18.
He called in Fitzjohn's Avenue the next Sunday. For the first time he was without his wife.
He was so downcast, and so penitent19, and so ashamed of himself that Mrs. Norman met him halfway20 with a little rush of affection.
"Why have you not been to see us all this time?" she said.
He looked at her unsteadily; his whole manner betrayed an extreme embarrassment21.
"I've come," he said, "on purpose to explain. You mustn't think I don't appreciate your kindness, but the fact is my poor wife"—(She knew that woman was at the bottom of it!)—"is no longer—up to it."
"What is the wretch22 up to, I should like to know?" thought Mrs. Norman.
He held her with his melancholy23, unsteady eyes. He seemed to be endeavoring to approach a subject intimately and yet abstrusely24 painful.
"She finds the music—just at present—a little too much for her; the vibrations25, you know. It's extraordinary how they affect her. She feels them—most unpleasantly—just here." Wilkinson laid two delicate fingers on the middle buttons of his waistcoat.
Mrs. Norman was very kind to him. He was not very expert, poor fellow, in the fabrication of excuses. His look seemed to implore26 her pardon for the shifts he had been driven to; it appealed to her to help him out, to stand by him in his unspeakable situation.
"I see," she said. [Pg 89]
He smiled, in charming gratitude27 to her for seeing it.
That smile raised the devil in her. Why, after all, should she help him out?
"And are you susceptible28 to music—in the same unpleasant way?"
"Me? Oh, no—no. I like it; it gives me the very greatest pleasure." He stared at her in bewilderment and distress29.
"Then why," said Mrs. Norman sweetly, "if it gives you pleasure, should you cut yourself off from it?"
"My dear Mrs. Norman, we have to cut ourselves off from a great many things—that give us pleasure. It can't be helped."
She meditated30. "Would it be any good," she said, "if I were to call on Mrs. Wilkinson?"
Wilkinson looked grave. "It is most kind of you, but—just at present—I think it might be wiser not. She really, you know, isn't very fit."
Mrs. Norman's silence neither accepted nor rejected the preposterous31 pretext32. Wilkinson went on, helping33 himself out as best he could:
"I can't talk about it; but I thought I ought to let you know. We've just got to give everything up."
She held herself in. A terrible impulse was upon her to tell him straight out that she did not see it; that it was too bad; that there was no reason why she should be called upon to give everything up.
"So, if we don't come," he said, "you'll understand? It's better—it really is better not."
His voice moved her, and her heart cried to him, "Poor Peter!"
"Yes," she said; "I understand."
Of course she understood. Poor Peter! so it had come to that? [Pg 90]
"Can't you stay for tea?" she said.
"No; I must be going back to her."
He rose. His hand found hers. Its slight pressure told her that he gave and took the sadness of renunciation.
That winter Mrs. Wilkinson fell ill in good earnest, and Wilkinson became the prey34 of a pitiful remorse35 that kept him a prisoner by his wife's bedside.
He had always been a good man; it was now understood that he avoided Mrs. Norman because he desired to remain what he had always been.
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1
peculiar
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adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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2
penetrating
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adj.(声音)响亮的,尖锐的adj.(气味)刺激的adj.(思想)敏锐的,有洞察力的 | |
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3
exclusion
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n.拒绝,排除,排斥,远足,远途旅行 | |
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4
throbbing
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a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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5
strings
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n.弦 | |
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6
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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7
withdrawn
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vt.收回;使退出;vi.撤退,退出 | |
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8
positively
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adv.明确地,断然,坚决地;实在,确实 | |
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9
assented
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同意,赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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10
condoned
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v.容忍,宽恕,原谅( condone的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11
hush
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int.嘘,别出声;n.沉默,静寂;v.使安静 | |
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12
pacify
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vt.使(某人)平静(或息怒);抚慰 | |
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13
forth
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adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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14
touching
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adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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15
simplicity
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n.简单,简易;朴素;直率,单纯 | |
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16
intimacy
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n.熟悉,亲密,密切关系,亲昵的言行 | |
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17
abrupt
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adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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18
resentment
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n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
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19
penitent
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adj.后悔的;n.后悔者;忏悔者 | |
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20
halfway
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adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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21
embarrassment
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n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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22
wretch
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n.可怜的人,不幸的人;卑鄙的人 | |
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23
melancholy
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n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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24
abstrusely
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adv.难解地,深奥地 | |
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25
vibrations
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n.摆动( vibration的名词复数 );震动;感受;(偏离平衡位置的)一次性往复振动 | |
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26
implore
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vt.乞求,恳求,哀求 | |
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27
gratitude
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adj.感激,感谢 | |
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28
susceptible
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adj.过敏的,敏感的;易动感情的,易受感动的 | |
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29
distress
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n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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30
meditated
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深思,沉思,冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 ); 内心策划,考虑 | |
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31
preposterous
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adj.荒谬的,可笑的 | |
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32
pretext
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n.借口,托词 | |
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33
helping
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n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的,辅助的 | |
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34
prey
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n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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35
remorse
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n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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