‘Now, my dear boy,’ he said, ‘we really must go and talk to my wife and Marion. Besides, I must tell you the plan I have made for you—the plan I was just going to speak about when you put it out of my head with the news of your love-making.’
For Hyacinth a great effort was necessary before he could get back to his normal state. His hands were trembling violently. His forehead and hair were damp with sweat. His whole body was intensely cold. His mind was confused, and he listened to what was said to him with only the vaguest apprehension2 of its meaning. The Canon laid a firm hand upon his arm, and led him away from the study. In the passage he stopped, and asked Hyacinth to go back and blow out the candle which still burned on the study table.
‘And just put some turf on the fire,’ he added; ‘I don’t want it to go out.’
The pause enabled Hyacinth to regain3 his self-command, and the performance of the perfectly4 ordinary acts required of him helped to bring him back again to common life.
When they entered the drawing-room it was evident that Mrs. Beecher had already heard the news, and was, in fact, discussing the matter eagerly with Marion. She sprang up, and hastened across the room to meet them.
‘I am so glad,’ she said—‘so delighted! I am sure you and Marion will be happy together.’
She took Hyacinth’s hands in hers, and held them while she spoke5, then drew nearer to him and looked up in his face expectantly. A fearful suspicion seized him that on an occasion of the kind she might consider it right to kiss him. It was with the greatest difficulty that he suppressed a wholly unreasonable6 impulse to laugh aloud. Apparently7 the need of such affectionate stimulant8 was strong in Mrs. Beecher. When Hyacinth hung back, she left him for her husband, put her arms round his neck, and kissed him heartily9 on both cheeks.
‘Isn’t it fortunate,’ she said, ‘that you saw Dr. Henry last week while you were in Dublin? You little thought how important that talk with him was going to turn out—I mean, of course, important for us. It always was important for Mr.—I mean for Hyacinth.’
The Canon seemed a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat somewhat unnecessarily, and then said:
‘I haven’t mentioned that matter yet.’
‘Not mentioned Dr. Henry’s offer! Then, what have you been talking about all this time?’
It did not seem necessary to tell Mrs. Beecher all that had been said, or to repeat the scene in the study for her benefit. The Canon cleared his throat again.
‘I was in Dublin last week attending a meeting of the Scriptural Schools Society, and I met Dr. Henry. We were talking about the Quinns. I told you that Mr. Quinn is to be the new secretary of the society, didn’t I? Dr. Henry knows Mr. Quinn slightly, and was greatly interested in him. Your name naturally was mentioned. Dr. Henry seems to have taken a warm interest in you when you were in college, and to have a very high opinion of your abilities. He did not know what had become of you, and was very pleased to hear that you were a friend of ours.’
Hyacinth knew at once what was coming—knew what Canon Beecher’s plan for his future was, and why he was pleased with it; understood how Mrs. Beecher came to describe this conversation with Dr. Henry as fortunate. He waited for the rest of the recital10, vaguely11 surprised at his own want of feeling.
‘I told him,’ the Canon went on, eying Hyacinth doubtfully, ‘that you had lost your employment here. I hope you don’t object to my having mentioned that. I am sure you wouldn’t if you had heard how sympathetically he spoke of you. He assured me that he was most anxious to help you in any way in his power. He just asked one question about you.’ Hyacinth started. Where had he heard those identical words before? Oh yes, they were in Miss Goold’s letter. Patrick O’Dwyer also had just asked one question about him. He smiled faintly as the Canon went on: ‘“Is he fit, spiritually fit, to be ordained12? For it is the desire to serve God which must animate13 our work.” I said I thought you were. I told him how you sang in our choir14 here, and how fond you seemed of our quiet life, and what a good fellow you are. You see, I did not know then that I was praising the man who is to be my son-in-law. He asked me to remind you of a promise he had once made, and to say that he was ready to fufil it. I understood him to mean that he would recommend you to any Bishop15 you like for ordination16.’
Hyacinth remained silent. He felt that in surrendering his work for the Croppy he surrendered also his right to make any choice. He was ready to be shepherded into any position, like a sheep into a pen. And he had no particular wish to resist. He saw a simple satisfaction in Mrs. Beecher’s face and a beautiful joy in Marion’s eyes. It was impossible for him to disappoint them. He smiled a response to Mrs. Beecher’s kindly17 triumph.
‘Isn’t that splendid! Now you and Marion will be able to be married quite soon, and I do dislike long engagements. Of course, you will be very poor at first, but no poorer than we were. And Marion is not afraid of being poor—are you, dear?’
‘That is just what I have been saying to him,’ said Marion; ‘isn’t it, Hyacinth? Of course I am not afraid. I have always said that if I ever married I should like to marry a clergyman, and if one does that one is sure to be poor.’
Evidently there was no doubt in either of their minds that Hyacinth would accept Dr. Henry’s offer. Nor had he any doubt himself. The thing seemed too inevitable18 to be anything but right. Only on Canon Beecher’s face there lingered a shadow of uncertainty19. Hyacinth saw it, and relieved his mind at once.
‘I shall write to Dr. Henry to-night and thank him. I shall ask him to try and get me a curacy as soon as possible.’
‘Thank you,’ said the Canon.
‘I think,’ added Hyacinth, ‘that I should prefer getting work in England.’
‘Oh, why,’ said Mrs. Beecher. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay in Ireland! and then we might have Marion somewhere within reach.’
‘My dear,’ said the Canon, ‘we must let Hyacinth decide for himself. I am sure he knows what is wisest for him to do.’
Hyacinth was not at all sure that he knew what was wisest, and he was quite certain that he had not decided20 for himself in any matter of the slightest importance. He had suggested an English curacy in the vague hope that it might be easier there to forget his hopes and dreams for Ireland. It seemed to him, too, that a voluntary exile, of which he could not think without pain, might be a kind of atonement for the betrayal of his old enthusiasm.
The Canon followed him to the door when he left.
‘My dear boy’—there was a break in his voice as he spoke—’ my dear boy, you have made me very happy. I am sure that you will not enter upon the work of the ministry21 from any unworthy motive22. The call will become clearer to you by degrees. I mean the inward call. The outward call, the leading of circumstance, has already made abundantly plain the way you ought to walk in. The other will come—the voice which brings assurance and peace when it speaks.’
Hyacinth looked at him wistfully. There seemed very little possibility of anything like assurance for him, and only such peace as might be gained by smothering23 the cries with which his heart assailed24 him. The Canon held his hand and wrung25 it.
‘I can understand why you want to go to England. Your political opinions will interfere26 very little with your work there. Here, of course, it would be different. Yes, your choice is certainly wise, for nothing must be allowed to hinder your work. “Laying aside every weight,” you remember, “let us run the race.” Yes, I understand.’
It was perfectly clear to Hyacinth that the Canon did not understand in the least. It was not likely that anyone ever would understand.
Gradually his despondency gave way before the crowding in of thoughts of satisfaction. He was to have Marion, to live with her, to love her, and be loved by her as long as they both lived. He saw life stretching out before him, a sunlit, pleasant journey in Marion’s company. It did not seem to him that any trouble could be really bad, any disappointment intolerable, any toil27 oppressive with her love for an atmosphere round him. He believed, too, that the work he was undertaking28 was a good work, perhaps the highest and noblest kind of work there is to be done in the world. From this conviction also came a glow of happiness. Yet there kept recurring29 chill shudderings of self-reproach. Something within him kept whispering that he had bartered30 his soul for happiness.
‘I have chosen the easier and therefore the baser way,’ he said. ‘I have shrunk from toil and pain. I have refused to make the sacrifice demanded of me.’
He went back again to the story of his father’s vision. For a moment it seemed quite clear that he had deliberately31 refused the call to the great fight, that he had judged himself unworthy, being cowardly and selfish in his heart. Then he remembered that the Captain of whom his father had told him was no one else but Christ, the same Christ of whom Canon Beecher spoke, the Good Shepherd whose love he had discovered to be the greatest need of all.
‘I must have Him,’ he said—‘I must have Him—and Marion.’
Again with the renewed decision came a glow of happiness and a sense of rest, until there rose, as if to smite32 him, the thought of Ireland—of Ireland, poor, derided33 of strangers, deserted34 by her sons, roped in as a prize-ring where selfish men struggle ignobly35 for sordid36 gains. The children of the land fled from it sick with despair. Its deserted houses were full of all doleful things. Cormorants37 and the daughters of the owl38 lodged39 in the lintels of them.
Sullen40 desolation was on the threshold, while satyrs cried to their fellows across tracts41 of brown rush-grown land. Aliens came to hiss42 and passed by wagging their hands. Over all was the monotony of the gray sky, descending43 and still descending with clouds that came upon the land, mistily44 folding it in close embraces of death. Voices sounded far off and unreal through the gloom. The final convulsive struggles of the nation’s life grew feebler and fewer. Of all causes Ireland’s seemed the most hopelessly lost. Was he, too, going to forsake45 her? He felt that in spite of all the good promised him there would always hang over his life a gloom that even Marion’s love would not disperse46, the heavy shadow of Ireland’s Calvary. For Marion there would be no such darkness, nor would Marion understand it. But surely Christ understood. Words of His crowded to the memory. ‘When He beheld47 the city He wept over it, saying, Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem!’ Most certainly He understood this, as He understood all human emotion. He, too, had yearned48 over a nation’s fall, had felt the heartbreak of the patriot49.
‘I have chosen Him,’ he said at last. ‘Once having caught a glimpse of Him, I could not do without Him. He understands it all, and He has given me Marion.’
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
chamber
|
|
| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
apprehension
|
|
| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
regain
|
|
| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
perfectly
|
|
| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
unreasonable
|
|
| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
apparently
|
|
| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
stimulant
|
|
| n.刺激物，兴奋剂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
recital
|
|
| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
ordained
|
|
| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
animate
|
|
| v.赋于生命，鼓励；adj.有生命的，有生气的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
choir
|
|
| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
bishop
|
|
| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
ordination
|
|
| n.授任圣职 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
inevitable
|
|
| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
uncertainty
|
|
| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
ministry
|
|
| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
smothering
|
|
| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
assailed
|
|
| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
wrung
|
|
| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
interfere
|
|
| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
undertaking
|
|
| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
recurring
|
|
| adj.往复的，再次发生的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
bartered
|
|
| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
deliberately
|
|
| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
smite
|
|
| v.重击；彻底击败；n.打；尝试；一点儿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
derided
|
|
| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
deserted
|
|
| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
ignobly
|
|
| 卑贱地，下流地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
36
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
cormorants
|
|
| 鸬鹚，贪婪的人( cormorant的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
owl
|
|
| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
lodged
|
|
| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
tracts
|
|
| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
hiss
|
|
| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
descending
|
|
| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
mistily
|
|
| adv.有雾地，朦胧地，不清楚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
forsake
|
|
| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
disperse
|
|
| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
beheld
|
|
| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
yearned
|
|
| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
patriot
|
|
| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |