After a long but fruitless effort to bury the past again, to let the years close over it as the waves close over a treasure-laden ship, Mr. Emerson gave himself up to its thronging8 memories and let them bear him whither they would.
In this state of mind he unlocked one of the drawers in a secretary and took therefrom a small box or casket. Placing this on a table, he sat down and looked at it for some minutes, as if in doubt whether it were best for him to go further in this direction. Whether satisfied or not, he presently laid his fingers upon the lid of the casket and slowly opened it. It contained only a morocco case. He touched this as if it were something precious and sacred. For some moments after it was removed he sat holding it in his hand and looking at the dark, blank surface, as a long-expected letter is sometimes held before the seal is broken and the contents devoured9 with impatient eagerness. At last his finger pressed the spring on which it had been resting, and he looked upon a young, sweet face, whose eyes gazed back into his with a living tenderness. In a little while his hand so trembled, and his eyes grew so dim, that the face was veiled from his sight. Closing the miniature, but still retaining it in his hand, he leaned back in his chair and remained motionless, with shut eyes, for a long time; then he looked at the fair young face again, conning10 over every feature and expression, until sad memories came in and veiled it again with tears.
"Folly11! weakness!" he said at last, pushing the picture from him and making a feeble effort to get back his manly12 self-possession. "The past is gone for ever. The page on which its sad history is written was closed long ago, and the book is sealed. Why unclasp the volume and search for that dark record again?"
Yet, even as he said this, his hand reached out for the miniature, and his eyes were on it ere the closing words had parted from his lips.
"Poor Irene!" he murmured, as he gazed on her pictured face. "You had a pure, tender, loving heart—" then, suddenly shutting the miniature, with a sharp click of the spring, he tossed it from him upon the table and said,
"This is folly! folly! folly!" and, leaning back in his chair, he shut his eyes and sat for a long time with his brows sternly knitted together and his lips tightly compressed. Rising, at length, he restored the miniature to its casket, and the casket to its place in the drawer. A servant came to the door at this moment, bringing the compliments of a lady friend, who asked him, if not engaged, to favor her with his company on that evening, as she had a visitor, just arrived, to whom she wished to introduce him. He liked the lady, who was the wife of a legal friend, very well; but he was not always so well pleased with her lady friends, of whom she had a large circle. The fact was, she considered him too fine a man to go through life companionless, and did not hesitate to use every art in her power to draw him into an entangling13 alliance. He saw this, and was often more amused than annoyed by her finesse14.
It was on his lips to send word that he was engaged, but a regard for truth would not let him make this excuse; so, after a little hesitation15 and debate, he answered that he would present himself during the evening. The lady's visitor was a widow of about thirty years of age—rich, educated, accomplished16 and personally attractive. She was from Boston, and connected with one of the most distinguished17 families in Massachusetts, whose line of ancestry18 ran back among the nobles of England. In conversation this lady showed herself to be rarely gifted, and there was a charm about her manners that was irresistible19. Mr. Emerson, who had been steadily20 during the past five years growing less and less attracted by the fine women he met in society, found himself unusually interested in Mrs. Eager.
"I knew you would like her," said his lady friend, as Mr. Emerson was about retiring at eleven o'clock.
"You take your conclusion for granted," he answered, smiling. "Did I say that I liked her?"
"We ladies have eyes," was the laughing rejoinder. "Of course you like her. She's going to spend three or four days with me. You'll drop in to-morrow evening. Now don't pretend that you have an engagement. Come; I want you to know her better. I think her charming."
Mr. Emerson did not promise positively21, but said that he might look in during the evening.
For a new acquaintance, Mrs. Eager had attracted him strongly; and his thoughtful friend was not disappointed in her expectation of seeing him at her house on the succeeding night. Mrs. Eager, to whom the lady she was visiting had spoken of Mr. Emerson in terms of almost extravagant24 eulogy25, was exceedingly well pleased with him, and much gratified at meeting him again, A second interview gave both an opportunity for closer observation, and when they parted it was with pleasant thoughts of each other lingering in their minds. During the time that Mrs. Eager remained in New York, which was prolonged for a week beyond the period originally fixed26, Mr. Emerson saw her almost every day, and became her voluntary escort in visiting points of local interest. The more he saw of her the more he was charmed with her character. She seemed in his eyes the most attractive woman he had ever met. Still, there was something about her that did not wholly satisfy him, though what it was did not come into perception.
Five years had passed since any serious thought of marriage had troubled the mind of Mr. Emerson. After his meeting with Irene he had felt that another union in this world was not for him—that he had no right to exchange vows27 of eternal fidelity28 with any other woman. She had remained unwedded, and would so remain, he felt, to the end of her life. The legal contract between them was dissolved; but, since his brief talk with the stranger on the boat, he had not felt so clear as to the higher law obligations which were upon them. And so he had settled it in his mind to bear life's burdens alone.
But Mrs. Eager had crossed his way, and filled, in many respects, his ideal of a woman. There was a charm about her that won him against all resistance.
"Don't let this opportunity pass," said his interested lady friend, as the day of Mrs. Eager's departure drew nigh. "She is a woman in a thousand, and will make one of the best of wives. Think, too, of her social position, her wealth and her large cultivation29. An opportunity like this is never presented more than once in a lifetime."
"You speak," replied Mr. Emerson, "as if I had only to say the word and this fair prize would drop into my arms."
"She will have to be wooed if she is won. Were this not the case she would not be worth having," said the lady. "But my word for it, if you turn wooer the winning will not be hard. If I have not erred30 in my observation, you are about mutually interested. There now, my cautious sir, if you do not get handsomely provided for, it will be no fault of mine."
In two days from this time Mrs. Eager was to return to Boston.
"You must take her to see those new paintings at the rooms of the Society Library to-morrow. I heard her express a desire to examine them before returning to Boston. Connoisseurs32 are in ecstasies33 over three or four of the pictures, and, as Mrs. Eager is something of an enthusiast34 in matters of art, your favor in this will give her no light pleasure."
"I shall be most happy to attend her," replied Mr. Emerson. "Give her my compliments, and say that, if agreeable to herself, I will call for her at twelve to-morrow."
"No verbal compliments and messages," replied the lady; "that isn't just the way."
"How then? Must I call upon her and deliver my message? That might not be convenient to me nor agreeable to her."
"Oh!" ejaculated the lady, with affected35 impatience36, "you men are so stupid at times! You know how to write?"
"Ah! yes, I comprehend you now."
"Very well. Send your compliments and your message in a note; and let it be daintily worded; not in heavy phrases, like a legal document."
"A very princess in feminine diplomacy37!" said Mr. Emerson to himself, as he turned from the lady and took his way homeward. "So I must pen a note."
Now this proved a more difficult matter than he had at first thought. He sat down to the task immediately on returning to his room. On a small sheet of tinted38 note-paper he wrote a few words, but they did not please him, and the page was thrown into the fire. He tried again, but with no better success—again and again; but still, as he looked at the brief sentences, they seemed to express too much or too little. Unable to pen the note to his satisfaction, he pushed, at last, his writing materials aside, saying,
"My head will be clearer and cooler in the morning."
It was drawing on to midnight, and Mr. Emerson had not yet retired39. His thoughts were too busy for sleep. Many things were crowding into his mind—questions, doubts, misgivings—scenes from the past and imaginations of the future. And amid them all came in now and then, just for a moment, as he had seen it five years before, the pale, still face of Irene.
Wearied in the conflict, tired nature at last gave way, and Mr. Emerson fell asleep in his chair.
Two hours of deep slumber40 tranquilized his spirit. He awoke from this, put off his clothing and laid his head on his pillow. It was late in the morning when he arose. He had no difficulty now in penning a note to Mrs. Eager. It was the work of a moment, and satisfactory to him in the first effort.
At twelve he called with a carriage for the lady, whom he found all ready to accompany him, and in the best possible state of mind. Her smile, as he presented himself, was absolutely fascinating; and her voice seemed like a freshly-tuned instrument, every tone was so rich in musical vibration41, and all the tones came chorded to his ear.
There were not many visitors at the exhibition rooms—a score, perhaps—but they were art-lovers, gazing in rapt attention or talking in hushed whispers. They moved about noiselessly here and there, seeming scarcely conscious that others were present. Gradually the number increased, until within an hour after they entered it was more than doubled. Still, the presence of art subdued42 all into silence or subdued utterances43.
Emerson was charmed with his companion's appreciative44 admiration45 of many pictures. She was familiar with art-terms and special points of interest, and pointed22 out beauties and harmonies that to him were dead letters without an interpreter. They came, at last, to a small but wonderfully effective picture, which contained a single figure, that of a man sitting by a table in a room which presented the appearance of a library. He held a letter in his hand—a old letter; the artist had made this plain—but was not reading. He had been reading; but the words, proving conjurors, had summoned the dead past before him, and he was now looking far away, with sad, dreamy eyes, into the long ago. A casket stood open. Time letter had evidently been taken from this repository. There was a miniature; a bracelet46 of auburn hair; a ring and a chain of gold lying on the table. Mr. Emerson turned to the catalogue and read,
"WITH THE BURIED PAST."
And below this title the brief sentiment—
"Love never dies."
A deep, involuntary sigh came through his lips and stirred the pulseless air around him. Then, like an echo, there came to his ears an answering sigh, and, turning, he looked into the face of Irene! She had entered the rooms a little while before, and in passing from picture to picture had reached this one a few moments after Mr. Emerson. She had not observed him, and was just beginning to feel its meaning, when the sigh that attested47 its power over him reached her ears and awakened48 an answering sigh. For several moments their eyes were fixed in a gaze which neither had power to withdraw. The face of Irene had grown thinner, paler and more shadowy—if we may use that term to express something not of the earth, earthy—than it was when he looked upon it five years before. But her eyes were darker in contrast with her colorless face, and had a deeper tone of feeling.
They did not speak nor pass a sign of recognition. But the instant their eyes withdrew from each other Irene turned from the picture and left the rooms.
When Mr. Emerson looked back into the face of his companion, its charm was gone. Beside that of the fading countenance49, so still and nun-like, upon which he had gazed a moment before, it looked coarse and worldly. When she spoke23, her tones no longer came in chords of music to his ears, but jarred upon his feelings. He grew silent; cold, abstracted. The lady noted50 the change, and tried to rally him; but her efforts were vain. He moved by her side like an automaton51, and listened to her comments on the pictures they paused to examine in such evident absent-mindedness that she became annoyed, and proposed returning home. Mr. Emerson made no objection, and they left the quiet picture-gallery for the turbulence52 of Broadway. The ride home was a silent one, and they separated in mutual31 embarrassment53, Mr. Emerson going back to his rooms instead of to his office, and sitting down in loneliness there, with a shuddering54 sense of thankfulness at his heart for the danger he had just escaped.
"What a blind spell was on me!" he said, as he gazed away down into his soul—far, far deeper than any tone or look from Mrs. Eager had penetrated—and saw needs, states and yearnings there which must be filled or there could be no completeness of life. And now the still, pale face of Irene stood out distinctly; and her deep, weird56, yearning55 eyes looked into his with a fixed intentness that stirred his heart to its profoundest depths.
Mr. Emerson was absent from his office all that day. But on the next morning he was at his post, and it would have taken a close observer to have detected any change in his usually quiet face. But there was a change in the man—a great change. He had gone down deeper into his heart than he had ever gone before, and understood himself better. There was little danger of his ever being tempted57 again in this direction.
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1
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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2
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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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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4
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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exhumed
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| v.挖出，发掘出( exhume的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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7
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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8
thronging
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
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9
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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10
conning
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| v.诈骗，哄骗( con的现在分词 )；指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
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11
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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12
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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13
entangling
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| v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的现在分词 ) | |
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14
finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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15
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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16
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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17
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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18
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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19
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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20
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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21
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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22
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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23
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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24
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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25
eulogy
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| n.颂词；颂扬 | |
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26
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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27
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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28
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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29
cultivation
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| n.耕作，培养，栽培（法），养成 | |
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30
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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32
connoisseurs
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| n.鉴赏家，鉴定家，行家( connoisseur的名词复数 ) | |
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33
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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34
enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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35
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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36
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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37
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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38
tinted
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| adj. 带色彩的 动词tint的过去式和过去分词 | |
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39
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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40
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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41
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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42
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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43
utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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44
appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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45
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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46
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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47
attested
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| adj.经检验证明无病的，经检验证明无菌的v.证明( attest的过去式和过去分词 )；证实；声称…属实；使宣誓 | |
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48
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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49
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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50
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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51
automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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52
turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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53
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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54
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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55
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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56
weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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57
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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