Truth to tell, he could not make up his mind to sever2 the thread of connection which bound him to Miss Culpepper; which, frail3 though it might be, still continued to hold together; and would, in all probability, so hold as long as he chose to remain at Duxley, but which must inevitably4 be broken for ever the moment he and his portmanteau bade a final farewell to the pleasant little town. And yet, what folly5, what wild infatuation, it was! as he said to himself a score of times a day. There was not the remotest prospect6 of his being able to win Jane Culpepper for his wife--at least, not during the lifetime of her father. He had read his own heart and feelings by this time, and he knew that he loved her. He knew that he, the cool, calculating man of business, the shrewd speculator, who had never been overmuch inclined to believe in the romance of love; who had often declared that if he ever were to marry it would be for money and money only; he who had walked unscathed under the flashing fire of a thousand feminine eyes, had succumbed7 at last, like the most weak-minded of mortals, to the charms of a country-bred squire8's daughter, who was neither very beautiful, very wise, very witty9, nor, as he believed, very rich.
Yes, he certainly loved her. He owned that to himself now. He knew, too, that he couldn't help himself, and that, however foolish his passion might be, he could not bear to break himself away from it entirely10, as he ought to have done, and put two hundred miles of distance between himself and her. He preferred to still linger on in love's pleasant paradise. Not with his own hands would he consent to shut the golden gates that would bar him for ever from that sunny precinct.
That Miss Culpepper was engaged to young Cope he knew quite well. But Tom Bristow was not a man to set much store by such an engagement. He felt, instinctively11 as it were, that Jane had drifted into her present position almost unconsciously and without being sure of her own feelings in the matter. That Edward Cope was quite unworthy of being her husband he had no manner of doubt: who, indeed, was worthy12 of holding that position? Not much less doubt had he as to the real state of Jane's feelings toward the banker's son; and holding, as he did, that all is fair in love and war, he would have seen Mr. Edward Cope jilted, and he himself installed in his place, without the slightest feeling of compunction.
"He's an unmitigated cad," said Tom to himself. "He's altogether incapable13 of appreciating a girl like Jane." This, reversing the point of view, was exactly Edward Cope's own opinion. In his belief it was he who was the unappreciated one.
But a far more serious impediment than any offered by Jane's engagement to young Cope lay before Tom, like a rock ahead from which there was no escape. He knew quite well that unless some special miracle should be worked in his behalf, it was altogether hopeless to expect that the Squire would ever consent to a marriage between himself and Jane; and that any special miracle would be so worked he had very little faith indeed. He knew how full of prejudices the Squire was; and, notwithstanding his bonhomie and rough frankness of manner, how securely wrapped round he was with the trammels of caste. He knew, too, that had the Squire not owed his life in years gone by to Mr. Cope's bravery, from which act had sprung their warm friendship of many years, not even to the son of a rich banker would Titus Culpepper, the proud commoner, who could trace back his family for ten hundred years, have ever consented to give his daughter. While as for himself, he, Tom Bristow, however rich he might one day perhaps become, would never be anything more in Mr. Culpepper's eyes than the son of a poor country doctor, and, consequently, to a man of old family, a mere14 nobody--a person who by no stretch of imagination could ever be looked upon in the light of a family connection.
And yet, being in possession of all this bitter knowledge, Tom Bristow made no really determined15 effort to break away, and to try the cure which is said to be often wrought16 by time and absence even in cases as desperate as his. Metaphorically17 speaking, he hugged the shackles18 that bound him, and gloried in the loss of his freedom: a very sad condition, indeed, for any reasonable being to fall into.
It was curious what a number of opportunities Tom and Jane seemed to find for seeing each other, and how often they found themselves together, quite fortuitously as it were, and without any apparent volition19 of their own in the matter. Sometimes Tom would be mooning about the High Street in the middle of the forenoon at the very time that the Pincote pony-carriage drew up against one or another of the shops, and then what more natural than that Jane and he should have three minutes' conversation together on the pavement? Sometimes Jane would walk into Merton's library at the very moment that Tom was critically choosing a novel which, when borrowed, he would carefully omit to read. How quickly half an hour--nay an hour--would pass at such times, and that in conversation of the most commonplace kind!
Sometimes Jane, wandering absently with a book in her hands, through the Pincote woods and meadows, would find herself, after a time, on the banks of the carefully preserved stream--river it could hardly be called--which wandered at its own sweet will through Squire Culpepper's demesne21. There, strange to relate, she would find Mr. Bristow whipping the stream; very inartistically it must be admitted; but trying his best to make believe that he was a very skilful22 angler indeed.
What wings the sunny minutes put themselves on at such times! How quickly the yellow afternoons faded and waned23, and Jane would look round at last, quite startled to find that twilight24 had come already. Then Tom would accompany her part of the way back towards the house, his fishing-basket empty indeed, but his heart overbrimming with the happiness of perfect love.
Once every now and again the Squire, meeting Tom casually25 in the street, would ask him to dinner at Pincote. Memorable26 occasions those, never to be forgotten either by Tom or Jane, when, with the drawing-room all to themselves, while the Squire snoozed for an hour in his easy-chair in the dining-room, they could sit and talk, or pretend to play chess, or make believe to be deeply interested in some portfolio27 of engravings, or to be altogether immersed in a selection from the last new opera, turning over the leaves and strumming a few bars experimentally here and there; while, in reality, rapt up in and caring for nothing and nobody but themselves.
Yet never once was a single word of love whispered between them, whatever mutual28 tales their eyes might tell. Jane still held herself as engaged to Edward Cope; but she had made up her mind that as soon as that young gentleman should return from America she would see him, and tell him that she had discovered her error--that she no longer cared for him as a woman ought to care for the man she is about to marry; and she would appeal to his generosity29 to relieve her from an engagement that had now become utterly30 distasteful to her. His letters from abroad were so infrequent, so brief, and so utterly unlover-like, that she did not anticipate much difficulty in obtaining her request. But, as she was well aware, there was a certain amount of mule-like obstinacy31 in the character of Edward Cope, and it was quite possible that when he found she no longer cared for him, he might cling to her all the more firmly. What if he should refuse to release her? The contemplation or such a possibility was not a pleasant one. What she should do in such a case she could not even imagine. But it would be time enough to think of that when the necessity for thinking of it should have arisen.
But even if released from her engagement to Edward Cope, Jane knew that she would still be as far as ever from the haven32 of her secret hopes, and that without running entirely counter to her father's wishes and prejudices, the haven in question could never be reached by her. But although it might never be possible for her to marry the man whom she secretly loved, she was fully20 determined in her own mind never to marry any one else, however strongly the world might consider her to be bound by the fetters33 of her odious34 engagement. Edward Cope, although he might refuse to release her from her promise, should never force her into becoming his wife.
The fact of having been appealed to by Tom. Bristow to find a shelter for his friend, when that friend was in dire35 trouble, seemed to draw him closer to Jane than anything else. From that hour her feelings towards him took a warmer tinge36 than they had ever assumed before. There was something almost heroic in her eyes in the friendship between Lionel and Tom, and that she should have been called upon to assist, in however humble37 a way, in the escape of the former was to her a proof of confidence such as she could never possibly forget. She never met Tom without inquiring for the last news as to the movements of Lionel and his wife; and Tom, on his side, took care to keep her duly posted up in everything that concerned them. A week or so after the departure of Lionel for Cumberland, Jane had been taken by Tom to Alder38 Cottage and introduced to Edith. How warmly the latter thanked her for what she had done need not be told here. In that hour of their meeting was laid the foundation of one of those friendships, rare between two women, which death alone has power to sever.
However deeply Mr. Tom Bristow might be in love, however infatuated he might be on one particular point, he in nowise neglected his ordinary business avocations39, nor did he by any means spend the whole of his time in Duxley and its neighbourhood. He was frequently in London; nor was either Liverpool or Manchester unacquainted with his face, for Tom's speculative40 proclivities41 expended42 themselves in many and various channels. The project to bring Duxley, by means of a branch railway from one of the great trunk lines, into closer connection with some of the chief centres of industry in that part of the country, was one which had always engaged his warmest sympathies. But the project, after having been safely incubated, and launched in glowing terms before the public, had been quietly allowed to collapse43, its promoters having taken alarm at certain formidable engineering difficulties which had not presented themselves during the preliminary survey of the route.
This put Tom Bristow on his mettle44. He had been familiar from boyhood with the country for twenty miles round Duxley, and he felt sure that a much more favourable45 route than the one just abandoned might readily be found if properly looked for. Taking a practical surveyor with him, and the ordnance46 map of the district, Tom went carefully over the ground in person, trudging47 mile after mile on foot, in all sorts of weather, seeing his way after a time, little by little, to the elaboration of a project much bolder in idea and wider in scope than any which had ever entered the thoughts of the original projectors48.
A month later Tom found himself closeted with the heads of a certain well-known financial firm, who were celebrated49 for their far-seeing views and their boldness in floating large schemes of public importance. With this firm was also mixed up another well-known firm of eminent50 engineers and contractors51: but how and in what way they were mixed up, and where one firm began and the other ended, was more than any outside person could ever ascertain52, and was popularly supposed to be a mythical53 point even with the parties chiefly concerned. But be that as it may, Tom Bristow's scheme met with a very favourable reception both from a financial and an engineering point of view. While still kept a profound secret from the public at large, its details were laid before some five or six well-known members of the House, whose opinions carried much weight in such matters and were a tolerably safe criterion as to whether any particular bill would be likely to pass unslaughtered through the terrible ordeal54 of Committee. So favourable were the opinions thus asked for, that Mr. Bristow went at once to a certain metropolitan55 land agent, and instructed him to buy up and hold over for him certain fields and plots of land, which happened to be for sale just then at different points exactly on or contiguous to the proposed line of railway. Such property would rise immensely in value from the moment the prospectus56 of the line was made public, and by the time the first sod was turned Tom calculated that he ought to be in a position to clear cent. per cent. by his bold speculation57.
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1
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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metaphorically
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| adv. 用比喻地 | |
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shackles
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| 手铐( shackle的名词复数 )； 脚镣； 束缚； 羁绊 | |
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volition
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| n.意志；决意 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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demesne
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| n.领域，私有土地 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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obstinacy
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| n.顽固；（病痛等）难治 | |
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haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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alder
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| n.赤杨树 | |
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avocations
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| n.业余爱好，嗜好( avocation的名词复数 )；职业 | |
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speculative
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| adj.思索性的，暝想性的，推理的 | |
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proclivities
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| n.倾向，癖性( proclivity的名词复数 ) | |
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42
expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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43
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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44
mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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45
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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ordnance
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| n.大炮，军械 | |
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47
trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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48
projectors
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| 电影放映机，幻灯机( projector的名词复数 ) | |
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49
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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51
contractors
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| n.（建筑、监造中的）承包人( contractor的名词复数 ) | |
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52
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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53
mythical
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| adj.神话的；虚构的；想像的 | |
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54
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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55
metropolitan
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| adj.大城市的，大都会的 | |
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56
prospectus
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| n.计划书；说明书；慕股书 | |
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57
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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