Provided with a brush and a mixture of rum and treacle3, I went into Fordwitch Wood to set the snare4, familiar to hunters of moths5, which we call sugaring the trees.
The summer evening was hot and still; the time was between dusk and dark. After ten years of absence in foreign parts, I perceived changes in the outskirts6 of the wood, which warned me not to enter it too confidently when I might find a difficulty in seeing my way. Remaining among the outermost7 trees, I painted the trunks with my treacherous8 mixture—which allured9 the insects of the night, and stupefied them when they settled on its rank surface. The snare being set, I waited to see the intoxication10 of the moths.
A time passed, dull and dreary11. The mysterious assemblage of trees was blacker than the blackening sky. Of millions of leaves over my head, none pleased my ear, in the airless calm, with their rustling12 summer song.
The first flying creatures, dimly visible by moments under the gloomy sky, were enemies whom I well knew by experience. Many a fine insect specimen13 have I lost, when the bats were near me in search of their evening meal.
What had happened before, in other woods, happened now. The first moth1 that I had snared14 was a large one, and a specimen well worth securing. As I stretched out my hand to take it, the apparition15 of a flying shadow passed, swift and noiseless, between me and the tree. In less than an instant the insect was snatched away, when my fingers were within an inch of it. The bat had begun his supper, and the man and the mixture had provided it for him.
Out of five moths caught, I became the victim of clever theft in the case of three. The other two, of no great value as specimens16, I was just quick enough to secure. Under other circumstances, my patience as a collector would still have been a match for the dexterity17 of the bats. But on that evening—a memorable18 evening when I look back at it now—my spirits were depressed19, and I was easily discouraged. My favorite studies of the insect-world seemed to have lost their value in my estimation. In the silence and the darkness I lay down under a tree, and let my mind dwell on myself and on my new life to come.
I am Gerard Roylake, son and only child of the late Gerard Roylake of Trimley Deen.
At twenty-two years of age, my father's death had placed me in possession of his large landed property. On my arrival from Germany, only a few hours since, the servants innocently vexed20 me. When I drove up to the door, I heard them say to each other: "Here is the young Squire21." My father used to be called "the old Squire." I shrank from being reminded of him—not as other sons in my position might have said, because it renewed my sorrow for his death. There was no sorrow in me to be renewed. It is a shocking confession22 to make: my heart remained unmoved when I thought of the father whom I had lost.
Our mothers have the most sacred of all claims on our gratitude23 and our love. They have nourished us with their blood; they have risked their lives in bringing us into the world; they have preserved and guided our helpless infancy24 with divine patience and love. What claim equally strong and equally tender does the other parent establish on his offspring? What motive25 does the instinct of his young children find for preferring their father before any other person who may be a familiar object in their daily lives? They love him—naturally and rightly love him—because he lives in their remembrance (if he is a good man) as the first, the best, the dearest of their friends.
My father was a bad man. He was my mother's worst enemy; and he was never my friend.
The little that I know of the world tells me that it is not the common lot in life of women to marry the object of their first love. A sense of duty had compelled my mother to part with the man who had won her heart, in the first days of her maidenhood26; and my father had discovered it, after his marriage. His insane jealousy27 foully28 wronged the truest wife, the most long-suffering woman that ever lived. I have no patience to write of it. For ten miserable29 years she suffered her martyrdom; she lived through it, dear angel, sweet suffering soul, for my sake. At her death, my father was able to gratify his hatred30 of the son whom he had never believed to be his own child. Under pretence31 of preferring the foreign system of teaching, he sent me to a school in France. My education having been so far completed, I was next transferred to a German University. Never again did I see the place of my birth, never did I get a letter from home, until the family lawyer wrote from Trimley Deen, requesting me to assume possession of my house and lands, under the entail32.
I should not even have known that my father had taken a second wife but for some friend (or enemy)—I never discovered the person—who sent me a newspaper containing an announcement of the marriage.
When we saw each other for the first time, my stepmother and I met necessarily as strangers. We were elaborately polite, and we each made a meritorious33 effort to appear at our ease. On her side, she found herself confronted by a young man, the new master of the house, who looked more like a foreigner than an Englishman—who, when he was congratulated (in view of the approaching season) on the admirable preservation34 of his partridges and pheasants, betrayed an utter want of interest in the subject; and who showed no sense of shame in acknowledging that his principal amusements were derived35 from reading books, and collecting insects. How I must have disappointed Mrs. Roylake! and how considerately she hid from me the effect that I had produced!
Turning next to my own impressions, I discovered in my newly-found relative, a little light-eyed, light-haired, elegant woman; trim, and bright, and smiling; dressed to perfection, clever to her fingers' ends, skilled in making herself agreeable—and yet, in spite of these undeniable fascinations36, perfectly37 incomprehensible to me. After my experience of foreign society, I was incapable38 of understanding the extraordinary importance which my stepmother seemed to attach to rank and riches, entirely39 for their own sakes. When she described my unknown neighbors, from one end of the county to the other, she took it for granted that I must be interested in them on account of their titles and their fortunes. She held me up to my own face, as a kind of idol40 to myself, without producing any better reason than might be found in my inheritance of an income of sixteen thousand pounds. And when I expressed (in excusing myself for not accompanying her, uninvited, to the dinner-party) a perfectly rational doubt whether I might prove to be a welcome guest, Mrs. Roylake held up her delicate little hands in unutterable astonishment41. "My dear Gerard, in your position!" She appeared to think that this settled the question. I submitted in silence; the truth is, I was beginning already to despair of my prospects42. Kind as my stepmother was, and agreeable as she was, what chance could I see of establishing any true sympathy between us? And, if my neighbors resembled her in their ways of thinking, what hope could I feel of finding new friends in England to replace the friends in Germany whom I had lost? A stranger among my own country people, with the every-day habits and every-day pleasures of my youthful life left behind me—without plans or hopes to interest me in looking at the future—it is surely not wonderful that my spirits had sunk to their lowest ebb43, and that I even failed to appreciate with sufficient gratitude the fortunate accident of my birth.
Perhaps the journey to England had fatigued44 me, or perhaps the controlling influences of the dark and silent night proved irresistible45. This only is certain: my solitary46 meditations47 under the tree ended in sleep.
I was awakened48 by a light falling on my face.
The moon had risen. In the outward part of the wood, beyond which I had not advanced, the pure and welcome light penetrated49 easily through the scattered50 trees. I got up and looked about me. A path into the wood now showed itself, broader and better kept than any path that I could remember in the days of my boyhood. The moon showed it to me plainly, and my curiosity was aroused.
Following the new track, I found that it led to a little glade51 which I at once recognized. The place was changed in one respect only. A neglected water-spring had been cleared of brambles and stones, and had been provided with a drinking cup, a rustic52 seat, and a Latin motto on a marble slab53. The spring at once reminded me of a greater body of water—a river, at some little distance farther on, which ran between the trees on one side, and the desolate54 open country on the other. Ascending55 from the glade, I found myself in one of the narrow woodland paths, familiar to me in the by-gone time.
Unless my memory was at fault, this was the way which led to an old water-mill on the river-bank. The image of the great turning wheel, which half-frightened half-fascinated me when I was a child, now presented itself to my memory for the first time after an interval56 of many years. In my present frame of mind, the old scene appealed to me with the irresistible influence of an old friend. I said to myself: "Shall I walk on, and try if I can find the river and the mill again?" This perfectly trifling57 question to decide presented to me, nevertheless, fantastic difficulties so absurd that they might have been difficulties encountered in a dream. To my own astonishment, I hesitated—walked back again along the path by which I had advanced—reconsidered my decision, without knowing why—and turning in the opposite direction, set my face towards the river once more. I wonder how my life would have ended, if I had gone the other way?
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1
moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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treacle
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| n.糖蜜 | |
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snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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outermost
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| adj.最外面的，远离中心的 | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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allured
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| 诱引，吸引( allure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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snared
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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17
dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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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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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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maidenhood
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| n. 处女性, 处女时代 | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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foully
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| ad.卑鄙地 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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entail
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| vt.使承担，使成为必要，需要 | |
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meritorious
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| adj.值得赞赏的 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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36
fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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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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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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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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40
idol
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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41
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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42
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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43
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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44
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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45
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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46
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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47
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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48
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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49
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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50
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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51
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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52
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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53
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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54
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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55
ascending
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| adj.上升的，向上的 | |
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56
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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57
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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