At an hour when no other visitors to the watering—place were yet astir, the indefatigable2 Wragge appeared at the door of North Shingles3 Villa4, and directed his steps northward5, with a neatly-bound copy of “Joyce’s Scientific Dialogues” in his hand. Arriving at the waste ground beyond the houses, he descended6 to the beach and opened his book. The interview of the past night had sharpened his perception of the difficulties to be encountered in the coming enterprise. He was now doubly determined7 to try the characteristic experiment at which he had hinted in his letter to Magdalen, and to concentrate on himself—in the character of a remarkably8 well-informed man—the entire interest and attention of the formidable Mrs. Lecount.
Having taken his dose of ready-made science (to use his own expression) the first thing in the morning on an empty stomach, Captain Wragge joined his small family circle at breakfast-time, inflated9 with information for the day. He observed that Magdalen’s face showed plain signs of a sleepless10 night. She made no complaint: her manner was composed, and her temper perfectly11 under control. Mrs. Wragge—refreshed by some thirteen consecutive12 hours of uninterrupted repose13—was in excellent spirits, and up at heel (for a wonder) with both shoes. She brought with her into the room several large sheets of tissue-paper, cut crisply into mysterious and many-varying forms, which immediately provoked from her husband the short and sharp question, “What have you got there?”
“Patterns, captain,” said Mrs. Wragge, in timidly conciliating tones. “I went shopping in London, and bought an Oriental Cashmere Robe. It cost a deal of money; and I’m going to try and save, by making it myself. I’ve got my patterns, and my dress-making directions written out as plain as print. I’ll be very tidy, captain; I’ll keep in my own corner, if you’ll please to give me one; and whether my head Buzzes, or whether it don’t, I’ll sit straight at my work all the same.”
“You will do your work,” said the captain, sternly, “when you know who you are, who I am, and who that young lady is—not before. Show me your shoes! Good. Show me you cap! Good. Make the breakfast.”
When breakfast was over, Mrs. Wragge received her orders to retire into an adjoining room, and to wait there until her husband came to release her. As soon as her back was turned, Captain Wragge at once resumed the conversation which had been suspended, by Magdalen’s own desire, on the preceding night. The questions he now put to her all related to the subject of her visit in disguise to Noel Vanstone’s house. They were the questions of a thoroughly14 clear-headed man—short, searching, and straight to the point. In less than half an hour’s time he had made himself acquainted with every incident that had happened in Vauxhall Walk.
The conclusions which the captain drew, after gaining his information, were clear and easily stated.
On the adverse15 side of the question, he expressed his conviction that Mrs. Lecount had certainly detected her visitor to be disguised; that she had never really left the room, though she might have opened and shut the door; and that on both the occasions, therefore, when Magdalen had been betrayed into speaking in her own voice, Mrs. Lecount had heard her. On the favorable side of the question, he was perfectly satisfied that the painted face and eyelids16, the wig17, and the padded cloak had so effectually concealed18 Magdalen’s identity, that she might in her own person defy the housekeeper19’s closest scrutiny20, so far as the matter of appearance was concerned. The difficulty of deceiving Mrs. Lecount’s ears, as well as her eyes, was, he readily admitted, not so easily to be disposed of. But looking to the fact that Magdalen, on both the occasions when she had forgotten herself, had spoken in the heat of anger, he was of opinion that her voice had every reasonable chance of escaping detection, if she carefully avoided all outbursts of temper for the future, and spoke21 in those more composed and ordinary tones which Mrs. Lecount had not yet heard. Upon the whole, the captain was inclined to pronounce the prospect23 hopeful, if one serious obstacle were cleared away at the outset—that obstacle being nothing less than the presence on the scene of action of Mrs. Wragge.
To Magdalen’s surprise, when the course of her narrative24 brought her to the story of the ghost, Captain Wragge listened with the air of a man who was more annoyed than amused by what he heard. When she had done, he plainly told her that her unlucky meeting on the stairs of the lodging-house with Mrs. Wragge was, in his opinion, the most serious of all the accidents that had happened in Vauxhall Walk.
“I can deal with the difficulty of my wife’s stupidity,” he said, “as I have often dealt with it before. I can hammer her new identity into her head, but I can’t hammer the ghost out of it. We have no security that the woman in the gray cloak and poke22 bonnet25 may not come back to her recollection at the most critical time, and under the most awkward circumstances. In plain English, my dear girl, Mrs. Wragge is a pitfall26 under our feet at every step we take.”
“If we are aware of the pitfall,” said Magdalen, “we can take our measures for avoiding it. What do you propose?”
“I propose,” replied the captain, “the temporary removal of Mrs. Wragge. Speaking purely27 in a pecuniary28 point of view, I can’t afford a total separation from her. You have often read of very poor people being suddenly enriched by legacies29 reaching them from remote and unexpected quarters? Mrs. Wragge’s case, when I married her, was one of these. An elderly female relative shared the favors of fortune on that occasion with my wife; and if I only keep up domestic appearances, I happen to know that Mrs. Wragge will prove a second time profitable to me on that elderly relative’s death. But for this circumstance, I should probably long since have transferred my wife to the care of society at large—in the agreeable conviction that if I didn’t support her, somebody else would. Although I can’t afford to take this course, I see no objection to having her comfortably boarded and lodged30 out of our way for the time being—say, at a retired31 farm-house, in the character of a lady in infirm mental health. You would find the expense trifling32; I should find the relief unutterable. What do you say? Shall I pack her up at once, and take her away by the next coach?”
“No!” replied Magdalen, firmly. “The poor creature’s life is hard enough already; I won’t help to make it harder. She was affectionately and truly kind to me when I was ill, and I won’t allow her to be shut up among strangers while I can help it. The risk of keeping her here is only one risk more. I will face it, Captain Wragge, if you won’t.”
“Think twice,” said the captain, gravely, “before you decide on keeping Mrs. Wragge.”
“Once is enough,” rejoined Magdalen. “I won’t have her sent away.”
“Very good,” said the captain, resignedly. “I never interfere33 with questions of sentiment. But I have a word to say on my own behalf. If my services are to be of any use to you, I can’t have my hands tied at starting. This is serious. I won’t trust my wife and Mrs. Lecount together. I’m afraid, if you’re not, and I make it a condition that, if Mrs. Wragge stops here, she keeps her room. If you think her health requires it, you can take her for a walk early in the morning, or late in the evening; but you must never trust her out with the servant, and never trust her out by herself. I put the matter plainly, it is too important to be trifled with. What do you say—yes or no?”
“I say yes,” replied Magdalen, after a moment’s consideration. “On the understanding that I am to take her out walking, as you propose.”
Captain Wragge bowed, and recovered his suavity34 of manner. “What are our plans?” he inquired. “Shall we start our enterprise this afternoon? Are you ready for your introduction to Mrs. Lecount and her master?”
“Quite ready.”
“Good again. We will meet them on the Parade, at their usual hour for going out—two o’clock. It is not twelve yet. I have two hours before me—just time enough to fit my wife into her new Skin. The process is absolutely necessary, to prevent her compromising us with the servant. Don’t be afraid about the results; Mrs. Wragge has had a copious35 selection of assumed names hammered into her head in the course of her matrimonial career. It is merely a question of hammering hard enough—nothing more. I think we have settled everything now. Is there anything I can do before two o’clock? Have you any employment for the morning?”
“No,” said Magdalen. “I shall go back to my own room, and try to rest.”
“You had a disturbed night, I am afraid?” said the captain, politely opening the door for her.
“I fell asleep once or twice,” she answered, carelessly. “I suppose my nerves are a little shaken. The bold black eyes of that man who stared so rudely at me yesterday evening seemed to be looking at me again in my dreams. If we see him to-day, and if he annoys me any more, I must trouble you to speak to him. We will meet here again at two o’clock. Don’t be hard with Mrs. Wragge; teach her what she must learn as tenderly as you can.”
With those words she left him, and went upstairs.
She lay down on her bed with a heavy sigh, and tried to sleep. It was useless. The dull weariness of herself which now possessed36 her was not the weariness which finds its remedy in repose. She rose again and sat by the window, looking out listlessly over the sea.
A weaker nature than hers would not have felt the shock of Frank’s desertion as she had felt it—as she was feeling it still. A weaker nature would have found refuge in indignation and comfort in tears. The passionate37 strength of Magdalen’s love clung desperately38 to the sinking wreck39 of its own delusion-clung, until she tore herself from it, by plain force of will. All that her native pride, her keen sense of wrong could do, was to shame her from dwelling40 on the thoughts which still caught their breath of life from the undying devotion of the past; which still perversely41 ascribed Frank’s heartless farewell to any cause but the inborn42 baseness of the man who had written it. The woman never lived yet who could cast a true-love out of her heart because the object of that love was unworthy of her. All she can do is to struggle against it in secret—to sink in the contest if she is weak; to win her way through it if she is strong, by a process of self-laceration which is, of all moral remedies applied43 to a woman’s nature, the most dangerous and the most desperate; of all moral changes, the change that is surest to mark her for life. Magdalen’s strong nature had sustained her through the struggle; and the issue of it had left her what she now was.
After sitting by the window for nearly an hour, her eyes looking mechanically at the view, her mind empty of all impressions, and conscious of no thoughts, she shook off the strange waking stupor44 that possessed her, and rose to prepare herself for the serious business of the day.
She went to the wardrobe and took down from the pegs45 two bright, delicate muslin dresses, which had been made for summer wear at Combe-Raven a year since, and which had been of too little value to be worth selling when she parted with her other possessions. After placing these dresses side by side on the bed, she looked into the wardrobe once more. It only contained one other summer dress—the plain alpaca gown which she had worn during her memorable46 interview with Noel Vanstone and Mrs. Lecount. This she left in its place, resolving not to wear it—less from any dread47 that the housekeeper might recognize a pattern too quiet to be noticed, and too common to be remembered, than from the conviction that it was neither gay enough nor becoming enough for her purpose. After taking a plain white muslin scarf, a pair of light gray kid gloves, and a garden-hat of Tuscan straw, from the drawers of the wardrobe, she locked it, and put the key carefully in her pocket.
Instead of at once proceeding48 to dress herself, she sat idly looking at the two muslin gowns; careless which she wore, and yet inconsistently hesitating which to choose. “What does it matter!” she said to herself, with a reckless laugh; “I am equally worthless in my own estimation, whichever I put on.” She shuddered49, as if the sound of her own laughter had startled her, and abruptly50 caught up the dress which lay nearest to her hand. Its colors were blue and white—the shade of blue which best suited her fair complexion51. She hurriedly put on the gown, without going near her looking-glass. For the first time in her life she shrank from meeting the reflection of herself—except for a moment, when she arranged her hair under her garden-hat, leaving the glass again immediately. She drew her scarf over her shoulders and fitted on her gloves, with her back to the toilet-table. “Shall I paint?” she asked herself, feeling instinctively52 that she was turning pale. “The rouge53 is still left in my box. It can’t make my face more false than it is already.” She looked round toward the glass, and again turned away from it. “No!” she said. “I have Mrs. Lecount to face as well as her master. No paint.” After consulting her watch, she left the room and went downstairs again. It wanted ten minutes only of two o’clock.
Captain Wragge was waiting for her in the parlor—respectable, in a frock-coat, a stiff summer cravat54, and a high white hat; specklessly and cheerfully rural, in a buff waistcoat, gray trousers, and gaiters to match. His collars were higher than ever, and he carried a brand-new camp-stool in his hand. Any tradesman in England who had seen him at that moment would have trusted him on the spot.
“Charming!” said the captain, paternally55 surveying Magdalen when she entered the room. “So fresh and cool! A little too pale, my dear, and a great deal too serious. Otherwise perfect. Try if you can smile.”
“When the time comes for smiling,” said Magdalen, bitterly, “trust my dramatic training for any change of face that may be necessary. Where is Mrs. Wragge?”
“Mrs. Wragge has learned her lesson,” replied the captain, “and is rewarded by my permission to sit at work in her own room. I sanction her new fancy for dressmaking, because it is sure to absorb all her attention, and to keep her at home. There is no fear of her finishing the Oriental Robe in a hurry, for there is no mistake in the process of making it which she is not certain to commit. She will sit incubating her gown—pardon the expression—like a hen over an addled56 egg. I assure you, her new whim57 relieves me. Nothing could be more convenient, under existing circumstances.”
He strutted58 away to the window, looked out, and beckoned59 to Magdalen to join him. “There they are!” he said, and pointed60 to the Parade.
Noel Vanstone slowly walked by, as she looked, dressed in a complete suit of old-fashioned nankeen. It was apparently61 one of the days when the state of his health was at the worst. He leaned on Mrs. Lecount’s arm, and was protected from the sun by a light umbrella which she held over him. The housekeeper—dressed to perfection, as usual, in a quiet, lavender-colored summer gown, a black mantilla, an unassuming straw bonnet, and a crisp blue veil—escorted her invalid62 master with the tenderest attention; sometimes directing his notice respectfully to the various objects of the sea view; sometimes bending her head in graceful63 acknowledgment of the courtesy of passing strangers on the Parade, who stepped aside to let the invalid pass by. She produced a visible effect among the idlers on the beach. They looked after her with unanimous interest, and exchanged confidential64 nods of approval which said, as plainly as words could have expressed it, “A very domestic person! a truly superior woman!”
Captain Wragge’s party-colored eyes followed Mrs. Lecount with a steady, distrustful attention. “Tough work for us there,” he whispered in Magdalen’s ear; “tougher work than you think, before we turn that woman out of her place.”
“Wait,” said Magdalen, quietly. “Wait and see.”
She walked to the door. The captain followed her without making any further remark. “I’ll wait till you’re married,” he thought to himself—“not a moment longer, offer me what you may.”
At the house door Magdalen addressed him again.
“We will go that way,” she said, pointing southward, “then turn, and meet them as they come back.”
Captain Wragge signified his approval of the arrangement, and followed Magdalen to the garden gate. As she opened it to pass through, her attention was attracted by a lady, with a nursery-maid and two little boys behind her, loitering on the path outside the garden wall. The lady started, looked eagerly, and smiled to herself as Magdalen came out. Curiosity had got the better of Kirke’s sister, and she had come to Aldborough for the express purpose of seeing Miss Bygrave.
Something in the shape of the lady’s face, something in the expression of her dark eyes, reminded Magdalen of the merchant-captain whose uncontrolled admiration65 had annoyed her on the previous evening. She instantly returned the stranger’s scrutiny by a frowning, ungracious look. The lady colored, paid the look back with interest, and slowly walked on.
“A hard, bold, bad girl,” thought Kirke’s sister. “What could Robert be thinking of to admire her? I am almost glad he is gone. I hope and trust he will never set eyes on Miss Bygrave again.”
“What boors66 the people are here!” said Magdalen to Captain Wragge. “That woman was even ruder than the man last night. She is like him in the face. I wonder who she is?”
“I’ll find out directly,” said the captain. “We can’t be too cautious about strangers.” He at once appealed to his friends, the boatmen. They were close at hand, and Magdalen heard the questions and answers plainly.
“How are you all this morning?” said Captain Wragge, in his easy jocular way. “And how’s the wind? Nor’-west and by west, is it? Very good. Who is that lady?”
“That’s Mrs. Strickland, sir.”
“Ay! ay! The clergyman’s wife and the captain’s sister. Where’s the captain to-day?”
“On his way to London, I should think, sir. His ship sails for China at the end of the week.”
China! As that one word passed the man’s lips, a pang67 of the old sorrow struck Magdalen to the heart. Stranger as he was, she began to hate the bare mention of the merchant-captain’s name. He had troubled her dreams of the past night; and now, when she was most desperately and recklessly bent68 on forgetting her old home-existence, he had been indirectly69 the cause of recalling her mind to Frank.
“Come!” she said, angrily, to her companion. “What do we care about the man or his ship? Come away.”
“By all means,” said Captain Wragge. “As long as we don’t find friends of the Bygraves, what do we care about anybody?”
They walked on southward for ten minutes or more, then turned and walked back again to meet Noel Vanstone and Mrs. Lecount.
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1
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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indefatigable
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| adj.不知疲倦的，不屈不挠的 | |
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shingles
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| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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inflated
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| adj.（价格）飞涨的；（通货）膨胀的；言过其实的；充了气的v.使充气（于轮胎、气球等）( inflate的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）膨胀；（使）通货膨胀；物价上涨 | |
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sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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consecutive
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| adj.连续的，联贯的，始终一贯的 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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adverse
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| adj.不利的；有害的；敌对的，不友好的 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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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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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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pitfall
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| n.隐患，易犯的错误；陷阱，圈套 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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pecuniary
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| adj.金钱的；金钱上的 | |
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legacies
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| n.遗产( legacy的名词复数 )；遗留之物；遗留问题；后遗症 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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suavity
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| n.温和；殷勤 | |
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copious
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| adj.丰富的，大量的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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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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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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perversely
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| adv. 倔强地 | |
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inborn
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| adj.天生的，生来的，先天的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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pegs
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| n.衣夹( peg的名词复数 )；挂钉；系帐篷的桩；弦钮v.用夹子或钉子固定( peg的第三人称单数 )；使固定在某水平 | |
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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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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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rouge
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| n.胭脂，口红唇膏；v.(在…上)擦口红 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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paternally
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| adv.父亲似地；父亲一般地 | |
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56
addled
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| adj.（头脑）糊涂的，愚蠢的；（指蛋类）变坏v.使糊涂( addle的过去式和过去分词 )；使混乱；使腐臭；使变质 | |
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whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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strutted
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| 趾高气扬地走，高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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boors
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| n.农民( boor的名词复数 )；乡下佬；没礼貌的人；粗野的人 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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indirectly
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| adv.间接地，不直接了当地 | |
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