“We shall have jolly times with the shops and dressmakers,” she said warmly. “We’ll begin to-morrow morning. You are to be presented at the last drawing-room and must go into training at once. The duke wishes it. Really, I didn’t think there’d be anything so excitin’ this season as puttin’ the wife of Harold France through her paces. How do, Algy?”
She extended a finger to a young man who lounged in with a bored expression, and a dragging of one foot after the other that suggested excesses which were preparing him for an early grave; in truth, he was a virtuous5 and timid younger son, who, being able to afford but one vice6, chose cigarettes, and in the privacy of his room—he lived at home—smoked the economical American.
Mrs. Winstone, with the vagueness of her kind, murmured, “my niece,” and poured him out a cup of tea, while embarking7 smartly upon a tide of gossip anent “Sonnys” and “Berties,” “Mollys” and “Vickys,” to which Julia had no key. But she was quite content to be ignored, being entirely8 happy, and deeply interested in her aunt and her new surroundings. With a quick and appreciative9 instinct she admired the rectangular room with its soft light and French furniture, its hundred little treasures from India and the continent. The tea-service was fairylike, compared with the massive pieces of Great House, and eminently11 in harmony with the pretty butterfly and her slender fluttering hands. Mrs. Winstone, as has been intimated, cultivated an expression of complete ingenuousness12, even in animated13 conversation, and in repose—as when driving alone, for instance—looked so drained of vulgar sensations, of that capacity for thought so necessary to the middle classes, poor dears, that even an Englishman was once heard to exclaim that he would like to throw a wet sponge at her. Her figure might have been taller, but it could hardly have been thinner, and carried smart gowns as an angel carries her natural feathers. Women liked her, not only for the reasons given, but because her acute intelligence chose that they should, and men liked, sometimes loved, her because she knew them as well as she did women, and managed them accordingly.
Her present adorer, Lord Algernon FitzMiff, was tall, loose-jointed, with sleek14 brown hair, a mathematical profile, and beautiful clothes. He would never pay his tailor; never, unless he caught an heiress, own a thousand pounds. But at least a Chinaman on his first visit to England would never have taken him for a member of the middle class; and when a man is no disgrace to “his order,” who shall maintain that his life is wasted?
Julia, finding him even less interesting than her husband, was on the other side of the room admiring an old bronze brought to England in the palmy days of the East India Company, when three visitors were announced:?—
“Mrs. Macmanus, Mr. Pirie, Mr. Nigel Herbert.”
“Dear Julia!” cried Mrs. Winstone, in a tone which, although subdued15, made an effect of floating across space until the drawing-room seemed immense, “come and meet my friends.”
Julia, born without mauvaise honte, passed the ordeal16 of introduction in a fashion which delighted her aunt, and sat down under the lorgnette of Mrs. Macmanus.
This intimate friend of Mrs. Winstone was also in her thirty-fifth year, but enormously rich, as lazy of body as she was quick of mind, and, inclined to gout, quite indifferent to both youth and clothes. Her black frock would not have been worn by her maid, her stays were of the old school, her hair was parted, and about her eyes were many amiable17 lines. There were those who maintained that she was a snob18 of the subtlest dye, daring to look like a frump because of her income and her ramifications19 in the peerage; but they were quite wrong. Mrs. Macmanus was so little of a snob that she rarely recognized snobbery20 in others, hated every variety of discomfort21, and could not have been more amiable and kind-hearted had she been poor and a nobody.
Mr. Pirie, although only forty-five, was already an old beau. Left with an income sufficient for a luxurious22 bachelor, too selfish to ask the present Mrs. Macmanus to share it when she was a penniless girl, and with none of the recommendations essential to the capture of predatory heiresses, he had lived for twenty-five years in very comfortable rooms in Jermyn Street, dining out every night during the season, taking his yearly waters at Carlsbad, visiting at country houses. In no way distinguished23, people wondered sometimes why they continued, year after year, to invite him; but he had been astute24 enough to hang on until he had become a fixed25 habit, and now, should any of the ailments26 which come from too much dining with owners of chefs take him off, he would have been sincerely missed for a season; he was a good-natured gossip, who could put vitriol on his tongue at the unique moment. Mrs. Macmanus had been free for fifteen years, and he had proposed to her fifteen times; but not only was that astute widow content with her present state, but she never quite forgave him for not proposing before he was obliged to wear a toupee27. She liked him, however, and gave him a corner at her fireside. For several years she had tried to make him work, being of that order of woman that has no patience with the idler. In her youth, she had been quite impassioned on the subject, but had learned that to backbone28 the invertebrate29 was as easy as to turn marble into flesh. When, a few years later, the Americans discovered the hookworm, she concluded that half England had it, and became entirely charitable.
Young Herbert, who immediately carried his tea over to Julia’s side, was but recently out of Oxford30, reading law to please his father (an eminently practical peer), but quietly preparing himself for literature. He had a fresh frank face, which refused to look politely bored, large blue eyes, that danced at times with youth and the zest31 of life, and although dressed with the perfection of detail of a Lord Algy FitzMiff, his movements, like his voice, were often quick and eager. He had been cultivating Mrs. Winstone with a view to succeeding Lord Algy, since she was so much the fashion, and rippin’ besides, but she vanished from his calculations the moment he set eyes on her niece, and never returned.
He had heard nothing of the marriage, Mrs. Winstone with fashionable casualness having omitted to mention it, and society being as indifferent to the performances of a man who spent his leaves of absence in Paris, as to the heir presumptive of an unfashionable duke.
“Miss France—surely—” he began. But Julia bridled32. She was proud of her married state. She sat up very straight and looked at him primly33.
He laughed aloud. “Really?” he asked teasingly. “Well, I suppose you are too young to like to be told you look so, but—I can’t take it in. Do I know your husband, perhaps? France—there are several. You are a bride, of course.”
“I have been married just twenty-four days. My husband is a lieutenant34 in the navy. He won’t be here for a month or two yet?—”
“In the navy—what—what—is his first name?”
“Harold. He has a lot of others, but I forget them.”
“Not the Duke of Kingsborough’s?—”
“Yes, and Aunt Maria says perhaps I shall stay at some of the castles this year.”
Herbert’s hand shook so that he was obliged to put down his cup. He was almost a generation younger than France, and rarely entered his own club, but there are some characters that are known to all men of their class, however unpopular or negligible socially they may be. Herbert felt a sensation of nausea35, and for the moment loathed36 this wonderful young creature that looked to be composed of light and fire. What must she really be made of to have fallen in love with a man like France? What sort of hideous37 inherited instincts had answered those of a man that did not even possess the common gift of magnetism38? What had he made of her?
He had been bred in the severe school of his class. His composure returned and he looked at her critically. Red hair. A sensual and ill-tempered little devil, no doubt. Then he encountered her eyes, eyes so unmistakably innocent, so different from the eyes of the Mrs. Winstones, with their manufactured ingenuousness, their injected wonder at the naughtiness of the world.
But he floundered. “Oh, of course. Castles. And of course, Mr. France is very handsome—distinguished.”
Julia was staring at him in open astonishment39. “Handsome? He looks like a sheep, when he doesn’t look like a calf—that’s the way he looked when he stared at me while mother was talking to him. I had never talked to a man in my life. He must have thought me quite stupid. I am sure he was very kind to marry me.”
“Kind?”
“Mother said he was in love, but somehow—well, I have only read a few of Scott’s novels—he doesn’t seem much like a lover to me. But after I’ve seen the world a bit, and read some modern novels, perhaps I shall understand Mr. France better. I should think it would be a good thing to understand one’s husband.”
“Rather.” He was devoured40 with curiosity, and changed the subject hastily. “What is your idea of a man that could make love, fall in love?” he asked, not yet quite sure whether he liked her well enough even for a mild flirtation41.
But Julia had liked him spontaneously. His youth, his breeding, his frank kind eyes, the mere42 fact that he was the first man near her own age with whom she had ever had a tête-à-tête, won her confidence, and fluttered her imagination. She regarded him dispassionately.
“You, I should think. But I don’t know very much—anything about it.”
Was this accomplished44 coquetry? But those eyes. “Will you tell me where you have come from?” he asked. “I—I can’t quite place you.”
“From Nevis, where Aunt Maria was born.”
“And there are no men there?”
“No young ones. I met Mr. France at my first party, anyhow. I had no friends—not even girls. My mother is peculiar—a very wonderful woman. Some day I’ll tell you about her. But she made up her mind I was to have no friends until I married.”
Herbert made another heroic attempt to repress his curiosity. “And why do you think I could fall in love—really in love?”
“Well—you see—you look elastic45, springy, waxy46, sappy, like the young trees. Mr. France is all made, hard, finished. He’s like an old tree with rough bark, and dry inside. I suppose he could love when he was your age, but he’s years too old now. I shall always think of him as a father—my father had a son eighteen years old when he was Mr. France’s age—and I was eighteen my last birthday.”
Herbert drew a long breath. He put his finger inside his collar and shot a glance at the rest of the party. They were discussing the resignation of Gladstone and his indictment47 of the peers; English people, no matter how frivolous48, are never as empty-headed as Americans of the same class. Moreover, Mrs. Winstone included several flirtations in the curriculum, and looked upon Herbert as quite safe.
The question popped out irresistibly49. “Then your mother arranged the match?”
“Of course.”
“And—and—you aren’t in love with your husband now that you’re married to him? Girls often are, you know.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Well—I should think France would know how to make love even if he couldn’t love—I fancy you’ve hit him off there.”
“Well, he may, but I hope he won’t. Forty! He used to talk a good deal about wanting to settle down. So, I suppose he’ll do that, and I am sure I could run a house as well as mother.”
“Run a house! Is that the way he made love to you?”
“He never made love to me. Mother always entertained him, and he had to sail as soon as the ceremony was over, instead of taking me up into the hills, as he had planned.”
Herbert felt a wild sense of exultation50 and an equally wild impulse to save her. The finest type of young Englishman inherits a deep and passionate43 tide of chivalry51, and his was whipped hard and high for the first time. A crime had been committed, a worse one menaced; this he would avert52 if he had to elope with the child and ruin his career. There was no room left in him for humor; it was the best plan he could think of, just as Mrs. Winstone’s plan to make her innocent little niece so frivolous, worldly, and sophisticated that in a measure she would be prepared for life with one of the most blatant53 roués in England, was the best her order of brain could evolve. And Julia, plastic, unawakened, inexperienced, gave the impression of being entirely agreeable to any plans that might be made for her.
Herbert, young and chivalrous54 as he might be, and still able to fall in love at first sight, was the product of the highest civilization on earth, and in no danger of making a precipitate55 ass10 of himself. He also was as subtle as a frank and honest nature can be, and he realized that he must proceed warily56. An innocent girl can be repelled57 even by a young and attractive lover, and Mrs. Winstone, although she would smile at a flirtation, would be the last to countenance58 a scandal in her family. Moreover, it was possible that he might be mistaken in the sensations inspired by this girl with the big shining happy eyes, hair that looked as if about to crackle, and a sort of electric aura. He had been in love before, and recovered with humiliating facility. His reason spoke59, but all the rest of him cried out that he was in love, desperately60 in love, that it was the real thing, at last. And she needed him. That clinched61 the matter.
He changed the subject abruptly62, and, as much as possible, the current of his thoughts. “Of course Mrs. Winstone is enchanting63, ripping,” he announced warmly. “Quite the youngest woman in London” (this, without insulting intent). “But after all, you are just grown, and must have friends of your own age. My sister, alas64! is in India, but one of her pals65 married my brother—and her great friend, Lady Ishbel Jones—we are all great pals. I’m sure you’ll like them both?—”
“When shall I meet them? Are they my age?”
“Only a little older—twenty-three. Ishbel was married when she was nineteen—her husband is rather a bounder, but unspeakably rich, and she was one of fourteen daughters of a poor Irish peer. Bridgit, my sister-in-law, married for love—my brother is one of the best looking men in the army. She married at eighteen—and has a little chap, but she’s one of the best cross-country riders in England, and a topper at golf and tennis; fine all-round sport, and loves society as much as Ishbel. She’s sweeter, more feminine on the outside, but no more of a brick, and all-there-all-the-time than Bridgit. I’m sure they’re just the friends for you.”
“I’m rather afraid of them; they’re really grown women, and I know quite well that I’m only a child. I realized it a bit the night of my first party at Government House, when I saw the other girls flirting66; and on the steamer they teased me a good deal. But I must have some friends of my age. I am beginning to long for them. It is so odd—I was quite happy alone—so long as I knew nothing else. And I didn’t care to marry for years, but—” She gave a side glance at the intent face as close to hers as the etiquette67 of the drawing-room permitted, hesitated an instant, for she was growing sensitive about her ignorance. But the friendly admiring eyes reassured68 her, and out came the story of the planets. It was the last straw. Herbert left the house in Tilney Street feeling the one romantic man in England, and almost shaking with excitement.
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1
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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rejuvenation
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| n. 复原，再生, 更新, 嫩化, 恢复 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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7
embarking
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| 乘船( embark的现在分词 )； 装载； 从事 | |
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8
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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eminently
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| adv.突出地；显著地；不寻常地 | |
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ingenuousness
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| n.率直；正直；老实 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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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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ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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snob
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| n.势利小人，自以为高雅、有学问的人 | |
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ramifications
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| n.结果，后果( ramification的名词复数 ) | |
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snobbery
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| n. 充绅士气派, 俗不可耐的性格 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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astute
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| adj.机敏的，精明的 | |
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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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ailments
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| 疾病（尤指慢性病），不适( ailment的名词复数 ) | |
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toupee
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| n.假发 | |
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backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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invertebrate
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| n.无脊椎动物 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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32
bridled
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| 给…套龙头( bridle的过去式和过去分词 )； 控制； 昂首表示轻蔑（或怨忿等）； 动怒，生气 | |
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primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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magnetism
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| n.磁性，吸引力，磁学 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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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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flirtation
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| n.调情，调戏，挑逗 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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43
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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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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46
waxy
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| adj.苍白的；光滑的 | |
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indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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50
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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51
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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52
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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53
blatant
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| adj.厚颜无耻的；显眼的；炫耀的 | |
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54
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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55
precipitate
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| adj.突如其来的；vt.使突然发生；n.沉淀物 | |
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56
warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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57
repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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58
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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59
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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60
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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61
clinched
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的过去式和过去分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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62
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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63
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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64
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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65
pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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66
flirting
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| v.调情，打情骂俏( flirt的现在分词 ) | |
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67
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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