Of the malignities that sucked leechlike at his honor Gabriel Strong was most honestly ignorant. Many seasons elapse before man reads the unpropitious faces of his fellows, not dowering himself spontaneously with the power of arousing hatred7 in others. The child’s optimism dies slowly, as the white swans change to geese, the foaming8 chargers to long-eared asses9. Envy is the unwilling10 flattery of the fool. The true man puts forward the shield of power and regains11 once more the golden age of youth by triumphing godlike over the malice12 of mediocrity.
Judith had found her brother full of a restless morbidity13, his mind like a darkened mirror full of vague shadows and indefinite glimmerings of light. He was alternately silent and impulsively14 verbose15; burdened either with a monotonous16 melancholy17 or a scintillant18 and flippant mirth. He would spend much of the day breasting the winter winds and the mists that hastened over the hills. Of his married life he said no word to her, nor dared she tempt19 him for all her love to a confession20.
One evening, after playing Chopin’s Second Waltz, she had turned in the dusk to find him staring at the flames as they flung tragic21 shadows through the twilight22. He looked like a Dante, gazing morose23 and mute upon the pessimisms of some under world. The music had moved him; she had read its echoes in his eyes. Going on her knees, she had taken his hands in hers and pleaded with him after the gracious manner of her heart.
“Gabriel, what ails24 you?” she had asked.
The man had put her hands gently from him and turned his face into the shadows.
“Nothing,” he had answered her.
“Can you not trust me?”
“Dear, I cannot trust myself.”
She had crept close to him and leaned her head against his shoulder.
“Gabriel, is it your marriage?”
“Do not ask me,” he had said.
“May I not help you?”
“No one can help me,” he had retorted, rising and leaving her alone by the fire.
One winter afternoon they wandered together on the hills above the sea. The day was cheerless and full of the piping of the wind. The sea ran gray and lustreless25 under a sullen26 sky, whose clouds trailed dim and rain-laden over the hills. The woods were gaunt and wild as with remorse27. Dead leaves lay rotting in the lanes; in some of the more sheltered ditches snow still lingered.
The conversation had fallen upon elemental things—the thirst for love and man’s eternal yearning28 for a spiritual creed29. Judith, divine woman that she was, possessed30 that clarity of thought that abhorred31 dogmas and embraced untainted truth. Religion to her was as spiritual sunlight diffusing32 itself throughout the world. To her sanctity did not emanate33 from the pulpit. She was no automaton34 stirred to moral activity by black-letter phrases and studied incantations. To her life was religion, each heart-beat a natural prayer. Her Christianity was not of the book and the pew, but a bright atmosphere surrounding all things.
Gabriel was in a bitter mood. He had long escaped from the sensuous35 stupor36 into which his marriage had plunged37 him, and the awakening38 was the more humiliating to his pride. The natural fires of the mind were stirring from the ashes of a dead and sensual desire. His thoughts spread towards the unknown and into the wilderness39 of beauty and romance. He had bartered40 his liberty for red pottage and the bondage41 irked his soul.
Brother and sister came nearer to each other’s heart that day as they wandered over the misty42 hills. Judith had caught the man’s humor, and her sympathies were awake like birds on a May morning. It was pure joy to her to feel that she had some share in the man’s musings.
“I am weary of orthodoxy,” he said to her, as they threaded a wood where the trees stood in a silver vapor43.
“What is orthodoxy?” she asked, as she followed at his heels.
“The blind cult44 of custom.”
“Why trouble over such a grievance45; the world is wide. Need one think with the mob?”
“In Saltire, yes.”
“Perhaps you are right,” she said to him, as she drew to his side and looked wistfully into his face.
Gabriel unbosomed to her.
“The place is like a stagnant46 pool to me,” he said, “covered with the scum of custom. To doubt, according to our neighbors, is a sin. He who weighs the problems of life is held to be an infidel. We are expected to receive Mr. Mince’s dogmas as the only exposition of all truth and knowledge. To experiment is infamous47. We are hedged in with endless axioms as with thorns.”
Judith sighed and looked out over the sea.
“I fear you will find no rest in Saltire,” she said to him.
“Rest! No. Could it be possible? The place cramps48 and crushes my soul. There is no generosity49, no hope, no idealism here. It is as a burial-ground for souls.”
“Escape from it.”
“Impossible.”
“And why?”
“What of Ophelia?”
They were both silent awhile, as though searching each other’s hearts. The wind tumbled the dead leaves at their feet; the clouds were gray and morose in the winter sky.
“Ah, Gabriel, it might have been otherwise.”
The man frowned and did not answer her.
“What of politics?” she asked him anon.
“I have pondered the question.”
“You would escape into a wider world—a world of endeavor and strong purpose.”
“Better than Saltire.”
“Better than mouldering50 here amid a decaying generation.”
“It is the fog of the place that chokes me.”
They had passed to the dull green of the meadows and skirted a ragged51 hedge where dead branches shook in the wind. A path curled from the wood above them, crossed the road that ran by the hedge, and threaded on through ploughed fields towards a thicket52 of pines. Gabriel and Judith had halted to gaze over the sea.
As they turned again towards the west a girl in a green cloak and russet skirt came out from the wood and followed the path that descended53 towards the lane. She carried her hat in her hand and walked bareheaded in the wind. Passing close to the pair, she glanced at Judith, then at Gabriel, halted a moment, and then hastened on with kindling54 cheeks over the meadows. It was thus that Gabriel and Joan Gildersedge met once more on the hills above the sea.
Judith had glanced unconsciously at her brother’s face. Its expression startled her. His eyes were full of a peculiar55 brightness, his cheeks afire, his lips parted. The face reminded her of some painting of Dante—Dante gazing upon Beatrice gliding56 athwart the path of life.
“Gabriel.”
The man darted57 a look at her and grew pale suddenly.
“What ails you?” she asked, with her hand on his arm.
“Nothing.”
“Are you ill?”
“No.”
“The wind is cold; let us go home.”
“Yes, let us go home.”
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1
dames
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| n.（在英国）夫人（一种封号），夫人（爵士妻子的称号）( dame的名词复数 )；女人 | |
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discrepancies
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| n.差异，不符合（之处），不一致（之处）( discrepancy的名词复数 ) | |
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3
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mince
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| n.切碎物；v.切碎，矫揉做作地说 | |
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irreproachable
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| adj.不可指责的，无过失的 | |
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7
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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asses
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| n. 驴，愚蠢的人，臀部 adv. (常用作后置)用于贬损或骂人 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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regains
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| 复得( regain的第三人称单数 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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12
malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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13
morbidity
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| n.病态；不健全；发病；发病率 | |
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14
impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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verbose
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| adj.用字多的；冗长的；累赘的 | |
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16
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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18
scintillant
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| adj.产生火花的，闪烁（耀）的 | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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22
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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23
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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24
ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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25
lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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31
abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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32
diffusing
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| （使光）模糊，漫射，漫散( diffuse的现在分词 )； （使）扩散； （使）弥漫； （使）传播 | |
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33
emanate
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| v.发自，来自，出自 | |
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automaton
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| n.自动机器，机器人 | |
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sensuous
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| adj.激发美感的；感官的，感觉上的 | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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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
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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39
wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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40
bartered
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| v.作物物交换，以货换货( barter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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42
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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43
vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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44
cult
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| n.异教，邪教；时尚，狂热的崇拜 | |
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45
grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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46
stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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47
infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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48
cramps
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| n. 抽筋, 腹部绞痛, 铁箍 adj. 狭窄的, 难解的 v. 使...抽筋, 以铁箍扣紧, 束缚 | |
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49
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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50
mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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51
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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52
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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53
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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54
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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55
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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56
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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57
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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