My first ungrateful impulse was to get rid of the two cumbersome1 ladies who had offered to be my companions. It was needless to call upon my invention for an excuse; the truth, as I gladly perceived, would serve my purpose. I had only to tell them that I had arranged to walk to the farm.
Lean, wiry, and impetuous, Miss Jillgall received my excuse with the sincerest approval of it, as a new idea. “Nothing could be more agreeable to me,” she declared; “I have been a wonderful walker all my life.” She turned to her friend. “We will go with him, my dear, won’t we?”
Mrs. Tenbruggen’s reception of this proposal inspired me with hope; she asked how far it was to the farm. “Five miles!” she repeated. “And five miles back again, unless the farmer lends us a cart. My dear Selina, you might as well ask me to walk to the North Pole. You have got rid of one of us, Mr. Governor,” she added, pleasantly; “and the other, if you only walk fast enough, you will leave behind you on the road. If I believed in luck—which I don’t—I should call you a fortunate man.”
But companionable Selina would not hear of a separation. She asked, in her most irresistible2 manner, if I objected to driving instead of walking. Her heart’s dearest wish, she said, was to make her bosom3 friend and myself better acquainted with each other. To conclude, she reminded me that there was a cab-stand in the next street.
Perhaps I might have been influenced by my distrust of Mrs. Tenbruggen, or perhaps by my anxiety to protect Eunice. It struck me that I might warn the defenseless girl to be on her guard with Mrs. Tenbruggen to better purpose, if Eunice was in a position to recognize her in any future emergency that might occur. To my mind, this dangerous woman was doubly formidable—and for a good reason; she was the bosom friend of that innocent and unwary person, Miss Jillgall. So I amiably5 consented to forego my walk, yielding to the superior attraction of Mrs. Tenbruggen’s company. On that day the sunshine was tempered by a delightful6 breeze. If we had been in the biggest and worst-governed city on the civilised earth, we should have found no public vehicle, open to the air, which could offer accommodation to three people. Being only in a country town, we had a light four-wheeled chaise at our disposal, as a matter of course.
No wise man expects to be mercifully treated, when he is shut into a carriage with a mature single lady, inflamed7 by curiosity. I was not unprepared for Miss Jillgall when she alluded8, for the second time, to the sad events which had happened in the house on the previous day—and especially to the destruction by Mr. Gracedieu of the portrait of his wife.
“Why didn’t he destroy something else?” she pleaded, piteously. “It is such a disappointment to Me. I never liked that picture myself. Of course I ought to have admired the portrait of the wife of my benefactor9. But no—that disagreeable painted face was too much for me. I should have felt inexpressibly relieved, if I could have shown it to Elizabeth, and heard her say that she agreed with me.”
“Perhaps I saw it when I called on you,” Mrs. Tenbruggen suggested. “Where did the picture hang?”
“My dear! I received you in the dining-room, and the portrait hung in Mr. Gracedieu’s study.”
What they said to each other next escaped my attention. Quite unconsciously, Miss Jillgall had revealed to me a danger which neither the Minister nor I had discovered, though it had conspicuously10 threatened us both on the wall of the study. The act of mad destruction which, if I had possessed11 the means of safely interfering12, I should certainly have endeavored to prevent, now assumed a new and startling aspect. If Mrs. Tenbruggen really had some motive13 of her own for endeavoring to identify the adopted child, the preservation14 of the picture must have led her straight to the end in view. The most casual opportunity of comparing Helena with the portrait of Mrs. Gracedieu would have revealed the likeness15 between mother and daughter—and, that result attained16, the identification of Eunice with the infant whom the “Miss Chance” of those days had brought to the prison must inevitably17 have followed. It was perhaps natural that Mr. Gracedieu’s infatuated devotion to the memory of his wife should have blinded him to the betrayal of Helena’s parentage, which met his eyes every time he entered his study. But that I should have been too stupid to discover what he had failed to see, was a wound dealt to my self-esteem which I was vain enough to feel acutely.
Mrs. Tenbruggen’s voice, cheery and humorous, broke in on my reflections, with an odd question:
“Mr. Governor, do you ever condescend18 to read novels?”
“It’s not easy to say, Mrs. Tenbruggen, how grateful I am to the writers of novels.”
“Ah! I read novels, too. But I blush to confess—do I blush?—that I never thought of feeling grateful till you mentioned it. Selina and I don’t complain of your preferring your own reflections to our company. On the contrary, you have reminded us agreeably of the heroes of fiction, when the author describes them as being ‘absorbed in thought.’ For some minutes, Mr. Governor, you have been a hero; absorbed, as I venture to guess, in unpleasant remembrances of the time when I was a single lady. You have not forgotten how badly I behaved, and what shocking things I said, in those bygone days. Am I right?”
“You are entirely19 wrong.”
It is possible that I may have spoken a little too sharply. Anyway, faithful Selina interceded20 for her friend. “Oh, dear sir, don’t be hard on Elizabeth! She always means well.” Mrs. Tenbruggen, as facetious21 as ever, made a grateful return for a small compliment. She chucked Miss Jillgall under the chin, with the air of an amorous22 old gentleman expressing his approval of a pretty servant-girl. It was impossible to look at the two, in their relative situations, without laughing. But Mrs. Tenbruggen failed to cheat me into altering my opinion of her. Innocent Miss Jillgall clapped her ugly hands, and said: “Isn’t she good company?”
Mrs. Tenbruggen’s social resources were not exhausted23 yet. She suddenly shifted to the serious side of her character.
“Perhaps I have improved a little,” she said, “as I have advanced in years. The sorrows of an unhappy married life may have had a purifying influence on my nature. My husband and I began badly. Mr. Tenbruggen thought I had money; and I thought Mr. Tenbruggen had money. He was taken in by me; and I was taken in by him. When he repeated the words of the marriage service (most impressively read by your friend the Chaplain): ‘With all my worldly goods I thee endow’—his eloquent24 voice suggested one of the largest incomes in Europe. When I promised and vowed25, in my turn, the delightful prospect26 of squandering27 my rich husband’s money made quite a new woman of me. I declare solemnly, when I said I would love, honor, and obey Mr. T., I looked as if I really meant it. Wherever he is now, poor dear, he is cheating somebody. Such a handsome, gentleman-like man, Selina! And, oh, Mr. Governor, such a blackguard!”
Having described her husband in those terms, she got tired of the subject. We were now favored with another view of this many-sided woman. She appeared in her professional character.
“Ah, what a delicious breeze is blowing, out here in the country!” she said. “Will you excuse me if I take off my gloves? I want to air my hands.” She held up her hands to the breeze; firm, muscular, deadly white hands. “In my professional occupation,” she explained, “I am always rubbing, tickling28, squeezing, tapping, kneading, rolling, striking the muscles of patients. Selina, do you know the movements of your own joints29? Flexion, extension, abduction, adduction, rotation30, circumduction, pronation, supination, and the lateral31 movements. Be proud of those accomplishments32, my dear, but beware of attempting to become a Masseuse. There are drawbacks in that vocation—and I am conscious of one of them at this moment.” She lifted her hands to her nose. “Pah! my hands smell of other people’s flesh. The delicious country air will blow it away—the luxury of purification!” Her fingers twisted and quivered, and got crooked33 at one moment and straight again at another, and showed themselves in succession singly, and flew into each other fiercely interlaced, and then spread out again like the sticks of a fan, until it really made me giddy to look at them. As for Miss Jillgall, she lifted her poor little sunken eyes rapturously to the sky, as if she called the homiest sunlight to witness that this was the most lovable woman on the face of the earth.
But elderly female fascination34 offers its allurements35 in vain to the rough animal, man. Suspicion of Mrs. Tenbruggen’s motives36 had established itself firmly in my mind. Why had the Popular Masseuse abandoned her brilliant career in London, and plunged37 into the obscurity of a country town? An opportunity of clearing up the doubt thus suggested seemed to have presented itself now. “Is it indiscreet to ask,” I said, “if you are here in your professional capacity?”
Her cunning seized its advantage and put a sly question to me. “Do you wish to be one of my patients yourself?”
“That is, unfortunately, impossible,” I replied “I have arranged to return to London.”
“Immediately?”
“To-morrow at the latest.”
Artful as she was, Mrs. Tenbruggen failed to conceal38 a momentary39 expression of relief which betrayed itself, partly in her manner, partly in her face. She had ascertained40, to her own complete satisfaction, that my speedy departure was an event which might be relied on.
“But I have not yet answered you,” she resumed. “To tell the truth, I am eager to try my hands on you. Massage41, as I practice it, would lighten your weight, and restore your figure; I may even say would lengthen42 your life. You will think of me, one of these days, won’t you? In the meanwhile—yes! I am here in my professional capacity. Several interesting cases; and one very remarkable43 person, brought to death’s door by the doctors; a rich man who is liberal in paying his fees. There is my quarrel with London and Londoners. Some of their papers, medical newspapers, of course, declare that my fees are exorbitant44; and there is a tendency among the patients—I mean the patients who are rolling in riches—to follow the lead of the newspapers. I am no worm to be trodden on, in that way. The London people shall wait for me, until they miss me—and, when I do go back, they will find the fees increased. My fingers and thumbs, Mr. Governor, are not to be insulted with impunity45.”
Miss Jillgall nodded her head at me. It was an eloquent nod. “Admire my spirited friend,” was the interpretation46 I put on it.
At the same time, my private sentiments suggested that Mrs. Tenbruggen’s reply was too perfectly47 satisfactory, viewed as an explanation. My suspicions were by no means set at rest; and I was resolved not to let the subject drop yet. “Speaking of Mr. Gracedieu, and of the chances of his partial recovery,” I said, “do you think the Minister would benefit by Massage?”
“I haven’t a doubt of it, if you can get rid of the doctor.”
“You think he would be an obstacle in the way?”
“There are some medical men who are honorable exceptions to the general rule; and he may be one of them,” Mrs. Tenbruggen admitted. “Don’t be too hopeful. As a doctor, he belongs to the most tyrannical trades-union in existence. May I make a personal remark?”
“Certainly.”
“I find something in your manner—pray don’t suppose that I am angry—which looks like distrust; I mean, distrust of me.”
Miss Jillgall’s ever ready kindness interfered48 in my defense4: “Oh, no, Elizabeth! You are not often mistaken; but indeed you are wrong now. Look at my distinguished49 friend. I remember my copy book, when I was a small creature learning to write, in England. There were first lines that we copied, in big letters, and one of them said, ‘Distrust Is Mean.’ I know a young person, whose name begins with H, who is one mass of meanness. But”—excellent Selina paused, and pointed50 to me with a gesture of triumph—“no meanness there!”
Mrs. Tenbruggen waited to hear what I had to say, scornfully insensible to Miss Jillgall’s well-meant interruption.
“You are not altogether mistaken,” I told her. “I can’t say that my mind is in a state of distrust, but I own that you puzzle me.”
“How, if you please?”
“May I presume that you remember the occasion when we met at Mr. Gracedieu’s house-door? You saw that I failed to recognize you, and you refused to give your name when the servant asked for it. A few days afterward51, I heard you (quite accidentally) forbid Miss Jillgall to mention your name in my hearing. I am at a loss to understand it.”
Before she could answer me, the chaise drew up at the gate of the farmhouse52. Mrs. Tenbruggen carefully promised to explain what had puzzled me, at the first opportunity. “If it escapes my memory,” she said, “pray remind me of it.”
I determined53 to remind her of it. Whether I could depend on her to tell me the truth, might be quite another thing.
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1
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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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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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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4
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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6
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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7
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
benefactor
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| n. 恩人，行善的人，捐助人 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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13
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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preservation
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| n.保护，维护，保存，保留，保持 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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16
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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inevitably
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| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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19
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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interceded
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| v.斡旋，调解( intercede的过去式和过去分词 )；说情 | |
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facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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24
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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squandering
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的现在分词 ) | |
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28
tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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29
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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rotation
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| n.旋转；循环，轮流 | |
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lateral
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| adj.侧面的，旁边的 | |
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32
accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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33
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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allurements
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| n.诱惑( allurement的名词复数 )；吸引；诱惑物；有诱惑力的事物 | |
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36
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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37
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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38
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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39
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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40
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
massage
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| n.按摩，揉；vt.按摩，揉，美化，奉承，篡改数据 | |
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42
lengthen
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| vt.使伸长，延长 | |
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43
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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44
exorbitant
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| adj.过分的；过度的 | |
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45
impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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46
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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47
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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48
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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49
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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50
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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51
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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52
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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53
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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