Cyril Waring read it out with a little thrill of triumph. To be sure, it was by no means certain that Elma would be there; but still, Chetwood Court was well within range of Tilgate town, and Montague Nevitt felt convinced, he said, the Holkers were friends of the Cliffords and the Kelmscotts.
“For my part,” Guy remarked, balancing a fragment of fried sole on his fork as he spoke1, “I’m not going all that way down to Chetwood merely to swell2 Mrs. Holker’s triumph.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Cyril answered, with quiet incisiveness3. He hadn’t exactly fallen in love with Elma at first sight, but he was very much interested in her, and it struck him at once that what interested him was likely also to interest his twin brother. And this is just one of those rare cases in life where a man prefers that his interest in a subject should not be shared by any other person.
Before Saturday, the 29th, arrived, however, Guy had so far changed his mind in the matter, that he presented himself duly with Nevitt at Waterloo to catch the same train to Chetwood station that Cyril went down by.
“After all,” he said to Nevitt, as they walked together from the club in Piccadilly, “I may as well see what the girl’s like, anyhow. If she’s got to be my sister-in-law—which seems not unlikely now—I’d better have a look at her beforehand, so to speak, on approbation4.”
The Holkers’ grounds were large and well planted, with velvety5 lawns on the slope of a well-wooded hill overlooking the boundless6 blue weald of Surrey. Nevitt and the Warings were late to arrive, and found most of the guests already assembled before them.
After a time Guy found himself, to his intense chagrin7, told off by his hostess to do the honours to an amiable8 old lady of high tonnage and great conversational9 powers, who rattled10 on uninterruptedly in one silvery stream about everybody on the ground, their histories and their pedigrees. She took the talking so completely off his hands, however, that, after a very few minutes, Guy, who was by nature of a lazy and contemplative disposition11, had almost ceased to trouble himself about what she said, interposing “indeeds” and “reallys” with automatic politeness at measured intervals12; when suddenly the old lady, coming upon a bench where a mother and daughter were seated in the shade, settled down by their sides in a fervour of welcome, and shook hands with them both effusively13 in a most demonstrative fashion.
The daughter was pretty—yes, distinctly pretty. She attracted Guy’s attention at once by the piercing keenness of her lustrous14 dark eyes, and the delicate olive-brown of her transparent15 complexion16. Her expression was merry, but with a strange and attractive undertone, he thought, of some mysterious charm. A more taking girl, indeed, now he came to look close, he hadn’t seen for months. He congratulated himself on his garrulous17 old lady’s choice of a bench to sit upon, if it helped him to an introduction to the beautiful stranger.
But before he could even be introduced, the pretty girl with the olive-brown complexion had held out her hand to him frankly18, and exclaimed in a voice as sunny as her face—
“I don’t need to be told your friend’s name, I’m sure, Mrs. Godfrey. He’s so awfully19 like him. I should have known him anywhere. Of course, you’re Mr. Waring’s brother, aren’t you?”
Guy smiled, and bowed gracefully20; he was always graceful21.
“I refuse to be merely MR. WARING’S BROTHER,” he answered, with some amusement, as he took the proffered22 hand in his own warmly. “If it comes to that, I’m Mr. Waring myself; and Cyril, whom you seem to know already, is only my brother.”
“Ah, but MY Mr. Waring isn’t here to-day, is he?” the olive-brown girl put in, looking around with quite an eager interest at the crowd in the distance. “Naturally, to me, he’s THE Mr. Waring, of course, and you are only MY Mr. Waring’s brother.”
“Elma, my dear, what on earth will Mr. Waring think of you?” her mother put in, with the conventional shocked face of British propriety23. “You know,” she went on, turning round quickly to Guy, “we’re all so grateful to your brother for his kindness to our girl in that dreadful accident the other day at Lavington, that we can’t help thinking and talking of him all the time as our Mr. Waring. I’m sorry he isn’t here himself this afternoon to receive our thanks. It would be such a pleasure to all of us to give them to him in person.”
“Oh, he is about, somewhere,” Guy answered carelessly, still keeping his eye fixed24 hard on the pretty girl. “I’ll fetch him round by-and-by to pay his respects in due form. He’ll be only too glad. And this, I suppose, must be Miss Clifford that I’ve heard so much about.”
As he said those words, a little gleam of pleasure shot through Elma’s eyes. Her painter hadn’t forgotten her, then. He had talked much about her.
“Yes, I knew who you must be the very first moment I saw you,” she answered, blushing; “you’re so much like him in some ways, though not in all.... And he told me that day he had a twin brother.”
“So much like him in some ways,” Guy repeated, much amused. “Why, I wonder you don’t take me for Cyril himself at once. You’re the very first person I ever knew in my life, except a few old and very intimate friends, who could tell at all the difference between us.”
Elma drew back, almost as if shocked and hurt at the bare suggestion.
“Oh, dear no,” she cried quickly, scanning him over at once with those piercing keen eyes of hers; “you’re like him, of course—I don’t deny the likeness—as brothers may be like one another. Your features are the same, and the colour of your hair and eyes, and all that sort of thing; but still, I knew at a glance you weren’t my Mr. Waring. I could never mistake you for him. The expression and the look are so utterly25 different.”
“You must be a very subtle judge of faces,” the young man answered, still smiling, “if you knew us apart at first sight; for I never before in my life met anybody who’d seen my brother once or twice, and who didn’t take me for him, or him for me, the very first time he saw us apart. But then,” he added, after a short pause, with a quick dart26 of his eyes, “you were with him in the tunnel for a whole long day; and in that time, of course, you saw a good deal of him.”
Elma blushed again, and Guy noticed in passing that she blushed very prettily27.
“And how’s Sardanapalus?” she asked, in a somewhat hurried voice, making an inartistic attempt to change the subject.
“Oh, Sardanapalus is all right,” Guy answered, laughing. “Cyril told me you had made friends with him, and weren’t one bit afraid of him. Most people are so dreadfully frightened of the poor old creature.”
“But he isn’t old,” Elma exclaimed, interrupting him with some warmth. “He’s in the prime of life. He’s so glossy28 and beautiful. I quite fell in love with him.”
“And who is Sardanapalus?” Mrs. Clifford asked, with a vague maternal29 sense of discomfort30 and doubt. “A dog or a monkey?”
“Oh, Sardanapalus, mother—didn’t I tell you about him?” Elma cried enthusiastically. “Why, he’s just lovely and beautiful. He’s such a glorious green and yellow-banded snake; and he coiled around my arm as if he’d always known me.”
Mrs. Clifford drew back with a horror-stricken face, darting31 across at her daughter the same stealthy sort of look she had given her husband the night after Elma’s adventure.
“A snake!” she repeated, aghast, “a snake! Oh, Elma! Why, you never told me that. And he coiled round your arm. How horrible!”
But Elma wasn’t to be put down by exclamations32 of horror.
“Why, you’re not afraid of snakes yourself, you know, mother,” she went on, undismayed. “I remember papa saying that when you were at St. Kitts with him you never minded them a bit, but caught them in your hands like an Indian juggler33, and treated them as playthings, so I wasn’t afraid either. I suppose it’s hereditary34.”
Mrs. Clifford gazed at her fixedly35 for a few seconds with a very pale face.
“I suppose it is,” she said slowly and stiffly, with an evident effort. “Most things are, in fact, in this world we live in. But I didn’t know YOU at least had inherited it, Elma.”
Just at that moment they were relieved from the temporary embarrassment36 which the mention of Sardanapalus seemed to have caused the party, by the approach of a tall and very handsome man, who came forward with a smile towards where their group was standing37. He was military in bearing, and had dark brown hair, with a white moustache; but he hardly looked more than fifty for all that, as Guy judged at once from his erect38 carriage and the singular youthfulness of both face and figure. That he was a born aristocrat39 one could see in every motion of his well-built limbs. His mien40 had that ineffable41 air of grace and breeding which sometimes marks the members of our old English families. Very much like Cyril, too, Guy thought to himself, in a flash of intuition; very much like Cyril, the way he raised his hat and then smiled urbanely42 on Mrs. Clifford and Elma. But it was Cyril grown old and prematurely43 white, and filled full with the grave haughtiness44 of an honoured aristocrat.
“Why, here’s Colonel Kelmscott!” Mrs. Clifford exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, not a little set at ease by the timely diversion. “We’re so glad you’ve come, Colonel. And Lady Emily too; she’s over yonder, is she? Ah, well, I’ll look out for her. We heard you were to be here. Oh, how kind of you; thank you. No, Elma’s none the worse for her adventure, thank Heaven! just a little shaken, that’s all, but not otherwise injured. And this gentleman’s the brother of the kind friend who was so good to her in the tunnel. I’m not quite sure of the name. I think it’s—-”
“Guy Waring,” the young man interposed blandly45. Hardly any one who looked at Colonel Kelmscott’s eyes could even have perceived the profound surprise this announcement caused him. He bowed without moving a muscle of that military face. Guy himself never noticed the intense emotion the introduction aroused in the distinguished46 stranger. But Mrs. Clifford and Elma, each scanning him closely with those keen grey eyes of theirs, observed at once that, unmoved as he appeared, a thunderbolt falling at Colonel Kelmscott’s feet could not more thoroughly47 or completely have stunned48 him. For a second or two he gazed in the young man’s face uneasily, his colour came and went, his bosom49 heaved in silence; then he roped his moustache with his trembling fingers, and tried in vain to pump up some harmless remark appropriate to the occasion. But no remark came to him. Mrs. Clifford darted50 a furtive51 glance at Elma, and Elma darted back a furtive glance at Mrs. Clifford. Neither said a word, and each let her eyes drop to the ground at once as they met the other’s. But each knew in her heart that something passing strange had astonished Colonel Kelmscott; and each knew, too, that the other had observed it.
Mother and daughter, indeed, needed no spoken words to tell these things plainly to one another. The deep intuition that descended52 to both was enough to put them in sympathy at once without the need of articulate language.
“Yes, Mr. Guy Waring,” Mrs. Clifford repeated at last, breaking the awkward silence that supervened upon the group. “The brother of Mr. Cyril Waring, who was so kind the other day to my daughter in the tunnel.”
The Colonel started imperceptibly to the naked eye again.
“Oh, indeed,” he said, forcing himself with an effort to speak at last. “I’ve read about it, of course; it was in all the papers.... And—eh—is your brother here, too, this afternoon, Mr. Waring?”
点击收听单词发音
1 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 | |
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2 swell | |
vi.膨胀,肿胀;增长,增强 | |
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3 incisiveness | |
n.敏锐,深刻 | |
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4 approbation | |
n.称赞;认可 | |
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5 velvety | |
adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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6 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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7 chagrin | |
n.懊恼;气愤;委屈 | |
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8 amiable | |
adj.和蔼可亲的,友善的,亲切的 | |
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9 conversational | |
adj.对话的,会话的 | |
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10 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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11 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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12 intervals | |
n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 );间隔时间;[数学]区间;(戏剧、电影或音乐会的)幕间休息 | |
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13 effusively | |
adv.变溢地,热情洋溢地 | |
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14 lustrous | |
adj.有光泽的;光辉的 | |
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15 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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16 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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17 garrulous | |
adj.唠叨的,多话的 | |
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18 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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19 awfully | |
adv.可怕地,非常地,极端地 | |
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20 gracefully | |
ad.大大方方地;优美地 | |
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21 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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22 proffered | |
v.提供,贡献,提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 propriety | |
n.正当行为;正当;适当 | |
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24 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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25 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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26 dart | |
v.猛冲,投掷;n.飞镖,猛冲 | |
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27 prettily | |
adv.优美地;可爱地 | |
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28 glossy | |
adj.平滑的;有光泽的 | |
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29 maternal | |
adj.母亲的,母亲般的,母系的,母方的 | |
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30 discomfort | |
n.不舒服,不安,难过,困难,不方便 | |
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31 darting | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的现在分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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32 exclamations | |
n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 );感叹;感叹语;感叹词 | |
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33 juggler | |
n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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34 hereditary | |
adj.遗传的,遗传性的,可继承的,世袭的 | |
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35 fixedly | |
adv.固定地;不屈地,坚定不移地 | |
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36 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
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37 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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38 erect | |
n./v.树立,建立,使竖立;adj.直立的,垂直的 | |
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39 aristocrat | |
n.贵族,有贵族气派的人,上层人物 | |
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40 mien | |
n.风采;态度 | |
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41 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
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42 urbanely | |
adv.都市化地,彬彬有礼地,温文尔雅地 | |
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43 prematurely | |
adv.过早地,贸然地 | |
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44 haughtiness | |
n.傲慢;傲气 | |
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45 blandly | |
adv.温和地,殷勤地 | |
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46 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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47 thoroughly | |
adv.完全地,彻底地,十足地 | |
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48 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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49 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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50 darted | |
v.投掷,投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 );向前冲,飞奔 | |
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51 furtive | |
adj.鬼鬼崇崇的,偷偷摸摸的 | |
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52 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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