Gabriel Strong felt the change in the girl when he kept the promise he had made to her at Domremy, and came to see her at Burnt House, even in her own home. The contrasts in his existence smote9 him forcibly on the occasion. He had spent the previous day at Rilchester in political inanities10, had attended a philanthropic meeting, and listened to platitudes11 falling like perpetual sand upon the brain. The sterility12 of the part he played had dawned upon him with amazing forcefulness. He had confessed to himself, as he had driven home at night, the unctuous13 hypocrisy14 of it all, the infirm purpose rusty15 as an old man’s love. The contrast touched him to the soul when he approached Burnt House the following afternoon, alone and on foot. The place seemed like a green and glorious refuge to him, where he could breathe in the essence of heaven and renew life as at some holy well.
The girl’s transfiguration reacted vividly16 upon his sensitive thought. She seemed to have grown taller, more stately, more serious. There was a species of infinite forethought in her manner towards him, a tender earnestness that made her gray eyes luminous17 and wonderful. It was a child’s countenance18 no longer, for the divine element had entered into her soul.
She took him with her onto the moors19 that noontide, where the hills stood purple against the sky and valleys were steeped in a glamour20 of mist. Walking close at his elbow, but looking seldom in his face, she spoke21 little, seeming intent rather on making her sympathy a refuge for the man’s tired thoughts. She was infinitely22 restful and tender, calm as moonlight upon still water. To Gabriel that afternoon she appeared as a twin sister to his own beloved Judith, save that she was crowned with a divine mystery such as a sister could never claim.
“You are tired,” she had said, as they crossed the moors and met a soft wind from the sea.
“Why do you think that?” he asked her, with a kind of quiet pain in his voice.
“I can see it in your eyes. Are not all your moods intelligible23 to me?”
“You are right,” he answered, with his melancholy24 smile; “the trivialities of life are beginning to weigh upon me. I would give much gold to be young again, and free.”
“Are you so old?”
“As old as a youth who has been bred in a dungeon25, whose best years have been tombed in stone.”
“Perhaps you think too much,” she said.
“Perhaps! Who can help thinking when one has made mistakes. I hope to think some day for the benefit of others.”
“You would warn them?”
“Yes,” he said, with a sad simplicity26; “that is the best use to which we can put our errors. But I am weary of psychology27 for the moment. Let us forget problems and be children.”
She looked over the world with half-closed lids, the sun beating upon her face.
“As you will,” she said, quietly; “and yet I think a time comes when it is impossible to be a child again, when the mind ceases to ebb28 and flow, but moves like a river perpetually towards the sea. The intense realism of life burns upon the brain and reduces the flimsier interests to ashes. Only the iron is left, and that is at white heat.”
“How do you know all this?” he asked.
“It is what life seems to be teaching me.”
“Yes,” he said, with a sudden, strange solemnity; “never more shall we be children on earth, for the heart of the child is tombed in the ice of knowledge. It is all plain to me now. Life is a grim thing to those who are only half strong. I have often thought of late that there is nothing left me worth living for.”
“Do you mean it?” she asked, almost hastily.
“No,” he said, looking in her eyes and reading his soul’s image in them; “I spoke only of the life that is; you are part of the ideal.”
There was a sudden, strange intensity29 of feeling upon her face. Her eyes were wide and appealing. She drew her breath in deeply like one who sings.
“Gabriel,” she said.
He glanced at her, and the color on his bronzed face deepened. His silence told her that he waited.
“I want to live; I want to be real to you, flesh and blood, a woman, not a mere30 spirit.”
“Joan!”
“Can I not be real to you?”
“You are the most splendid and ideal reality Heaven has ever vouchsafed31 to me.”
“Ah! not as I could wish,” she said. “We seem all intellect at times, you and I. Yet—if I say more I shall hurt you. Ah! God knows, I want to be a help to you.”
“Before God, you help me,” he said, drawing in a deep breath.
Beyond the moors the hills were streaks32 of blue in a golden atmosphere. The air was sultry, preternaturally clear, eloquent33 of stormy weather. Everywhere the gorse was tonguing into flame. The meadows were rimmed1 with gold as the two passed back towards the dark knolls34 of the yews35 and cypresses37. There was a certain sadness over them both, a prophecy of evil that seemed to hover38 over their hearts like clouds over silent mountain tarns39.
Joan stood in the gravel40 drive and swung her hat by the strings41. She did not look at the man as she spoke.
“My father is in the garden,” she said.
“Yes?”
“Will you see him?”
“If you wish it,” he said, quickly.
“Wait. I will go to him first; he may be asleep.”
She disappeared amid the dark whorls of the cypress36 boughs42 like a white figure of truth. Gabriel leaned against the trellis and covered his face with his hand. Sudden foreboding, a sense of imminent43 woe44, gathered about his soul like a heavy cloud massing overhead. A fatalistic spirit seemed to seize on him out of the unknown. Had he then driven the childhood out of this girl’s life and made her wise to her own distress45. He was conscious suddenly of the supreme46 egotism that had grown up flesh of his flesh, spirit of his spirit. His face was white and strained when Joan reappeared from amid the trees.
“He is not there,” she said.
She marked the look on the man’s face—the gray, tired stare of one in pain.
“Gabriel, what ails47 you?”
Her eyes were very bright and eager, and there was a kind of half-fear on her face.
“Nothing,” he said. “I am only a little faint.”
She opened the heavy oak door, beckoned48 him across the hall, and led him into a large, shadowy room, lighted by three mullioned windows towards the west. Wainscoting covered the walls. The floor was of parqueterie carpeted with several old rugs. Antique china, interspersed49 with bowls of anemones50, red and blue, filled the carved mantel-shelf. The grate was black and cumbersome51, the hearth52 inlaid with tiles of a dark-green color. In the centre of the room a round mahogany table bore a great blue bowl ablaze53 with marsh54 marigolds. Heavy damask red curtains were half drawn55 across the window recesses56. Joan flung one back, opened a casement58 frame, pointed59 Gabriel to the cushioned window-seat.
“Rest there, dear; I must go and find my father.”
The man leaned back against the panelling with a saddened sense of peace. The antique yet fragrant60 flavor of the room floated upon him, redolent of the past. There was infinite magic in the girl’s gentle masterfulness, and her words had set his heart hurrying. If this old house was only his own home, and Joan his wife, golden emblem61 of womanhood moving like sunlight in dark places! He played with the phantasm as a poet dallies62 with a splendid dream.
When Joan came back to him she came like the damsel of vision, gracious and adorable. She had loosed her hair upon her shoulders; there were red wind-flowers in the bosom63 of her creamy blouse; a belt of silver-work topped the smooth sweep of her olive-green skirt. Yet there was a tired look upon her face, as though she were keeping something hid within her heart. She sat down on a little tapestry-covered sofa, with her face towards the window.
“My father is asleep,” she said, with a pensive64 stare. “He is growing very weak and feeble. I have another woman to help me. I think she was hewn out of granite65. Are you better now?”
“Yes,” he said, leaning back against the wainscoting and watching her face with a melancholy pride. “It is very restful here; I breathe the air that moves about you, and am at peace. You, too, look tired.”
Her face clouded suddenly, and there was a pathetic regret upon her lips that would have been piteous had not her gray eyes shone so bravely.
“It is my father,” she said. “I do not mind your knowing; it is a kind of nightmare to me. I do all that I can for him, and that seems little.”
“He is ill?”
“He is killing66 himself day by day.”
For the moment Gabriel found nothing to say to her, for fate shackled67 him. He would have given much to have been able to throw his manhood at the girl’s feet like an honest sword. But that same sword was rusted68 to its hypocritic sheath. He could but protest with his lips, pay verbal homage69.
“This must be a heavy burden for you,” he said, presently.
“It is my duty.”
“You do not complain.”
“That were graceless,” she said, “and yet I do not know what I should do if I had not the thought of you ever with me.”
Their solitude70 was broken by the woman, Mrs. Primmer71. Her face was hard and calculating. There was a certain critical vigilance in her eyes that made Gabriel restless. He felt that the woman was watching him almost like a spy, and that her verdict in no wise flattered the spirituality of his mission. Mrs. Primmer’s morality had been baked in a mould of clay. Charity had escaped in the process. Greed and self-satisfaction were lined and graven about her mouth.
Mrs. Primmer’s fingers lingered long over the table. She had a discordant72 habit of clattering73 and fidgeting with the china. She stole side glances the while at the man seated in the window recess57.
“Has that woman been long with you?” Gabriel asked, when the door had closed again.
“A few months.”
“I suppose she is intensely respectable?”
“She is preferable to the other,” said Joan, with a sigh. “I wonder if there are many such women in the world?”
“As Mrs. Primmer?”
“Yes.”
“Thousands, unfortunately.”
“I think a woman with a soul of ice is the most terrible thing earth can show.”
“Malice incarnate74, sharp of beak75 and red of claw.”
“Do most people always seem bent76 on thinking the worst they can of their fellows?”
“It is partly the result of sectarianism.”
“What do you mean by sectarianism?”
“The exclusive and narrow religious spirit of fools—the spirit that prompts a man to say, ‘You do not believe what I believe, therefore you are damned.’?”
“Are there, then, such absurd persons in the world?”
“Hundreds, mostly Christian77.”
“Christian!”
“By profession.”
“But not in spirit.”
“Hardly.”
The sky had grown more overcast78 and a certain heavy torpor79 in the air gave promise of thunder. Masses of purple clouds stood piled in the west, cratered80 with burning pits of fire. A vast vault81 of ebony was rising towards the sun. Now and again a sudden gusty82 wind came breathing about the house, making the trees shudder83 as though they feared a storm.
“How black the sky grows,” said the girl, joining Gabriel in the window-seat.
“A storm threatens.”
“And the wind prophesies84.”
Into the room a transient stream of sunlight poured. It burned in the girl’s hair and upon the flowers in her bosom, seeming to enhance the grim promise of the sky.
“What will you do?” she asked.
“Foul weather is nothing to me.”
“You must stay here till the storm has passed.”
“Perhaps,” said the man, looking at the clouds.
The west grew lurid85. A tense silence weighed upon the world, a silence so solemn that the very trees might have stood watching for some miraculous86 portent87 in the sky. The laurels88 and the grass shone with a vivid green in the mysterious light. The purple clouds in the west had taken fire and were fringed with flame.
The wind rose. They heard it crying far away upon the hills, deep, hoarse89, and distant. It gathered clamorous90 in the air, a great, solemn moan that seemed to surge from the east like the cavern91 cry of the dead. The trees stooped, swayed, tossed as in torture. Rain followed with the rattle92 of a cataract93, a heavy mist shot through with the fiery94 spears of the setting sun. Lightning gleamed on the hills. The sky grew great with thunder. In the onrush of twilight95 the trees struggled in a tornado96 of wind and rain, while the house seemed to quake with the uproar97 of the storm.
The two in the window-seat had drawn closer as they watched the sky. There was a long silence between them. Once Joan’s hand touched Gabriel’s. They drew apart suddenly with a quick glance into each other’s eyes.
“I love such a storm,” said the girl.
“It is grand. I have often thought that I should like to end my life at such an hour as this.”
“More so than in a golden twilight?”
“It is mere superstition98 on my part,” he added. “Yet I have had a kind of presentiment8 that life will end for me in tragedy.”
“Why do you think that?” she asked, with a sudden glance into his eyes.
“Because the death is often an echo of the life, a storm-cry or a peaceful noise of flutes99.”
The dusk had deepened rapidly; the rain still rushed upon the earth. The lightning had grown fitful in the west with a sullen100 roar of distant thunder. The wind had passed and was gone, as though some grim company of the damned had swept gibbering athwart the sky. There was no sound now save the rattle of the rain upon the laurels.
The dusk thickened to an eerie101 gloom. In the window-seat the man and the girl crouched102 like two silent children. Joan’s face was white as death in the dark; her eyes shone with a peculiar103 brilliancy; now and again there was a faint glimmer104 of light upon her hair.
“You cannot go yet,” she said.
“The sky may clear soon.”
There was the sound of a door opening stealthily. Gabriel, glancing over his shoulder, saw a white cap and a gray face peering through the dusk. Then there came a mumbled105 excuse and the door closed again. Mrs. Primmer had seen the two outlined together against the window. They were too perilously106 near, and in the dark also, to satisfy the lady’s conscience. She had drawn back with a hard smile and sundry107 feminine cogitations in her heart.
“The woman moves like a cat,” said Joan, leaning her head against the panelling.
“Mrs. Primmer?”
“Yes.”
He was silent a moment with a dark race of thought through his mind. The girl seemed absolutely unconscious of all evil, trustful as a child.
“I must go now,” he said.
“In this rain?”
“Yes. The sky is clearing. I will go to the door and look out.”
He spoke in a monotonous108 tone that hurt the girl’s heart for the moment; she did not realize the moral force of those few words. They passed through the darkened hall together and stood in the porch. The steady rattle of the shower was ceasing; it lessened109 minute by minute; soon there was nothing but the fall of the rain from the trees. A delicious fragrance110 breathed in the night air.
“I will take my chance,” said the man.
Joan stepped out with him into the drive.
“As far as the gate,” she said, half appealingly.
They passed down the drive into the dense111 umbrage112 of the yews and cypresses. Overhead a silvery film of clouds covered the sky; here and there a star flickered113 through. The west was still black as the mouth of a mighty114 cavern.
At the gate they stood a moment as though loath115 to part. The girl’s eyes looked very big and luminous in the dusk; her hair was a dark wreath about her face.
She gave him one of the red wind-flowers from her bosom.
“Good-night,” she said.
Her voice was very wistful, and she stood close to the man as he held the iron gate open with one hand.
“I shall see you again soon?” she asked.
A sudden hunger for her lips seized him, but he withheld116 the desire and drew back slowly from under the overhanging trees.
“Good-night,” he said to her.
“Good-night.”
She watched him turn and disappear into the darkness. Loneliness seemed to flood like black water into her heart. Her face was white and sorrowful as she passed back under the cloud-strewn sky.
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收听单词发音
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1
rimmed
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| adj.有边缘的，有框的v.沿…边缘滚动；给…镶边 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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3
maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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4
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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5
scatheless
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| adj.无损伤的，平安的 | |
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exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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7
presentiments
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| n.（对不祥事物的）预感( presentiment的名词复数 ) | |
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presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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inanities
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| n.空洞( inanity的名词复数 )；浅薄；愚蠢；空洞的言行 | |
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11
platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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12
sterility
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| n.不生育，不结果，贫瘠，消毒，无菌 | |
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unctuous
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| adj.油腔滑调的，大胆的 | |
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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15
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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18
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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21
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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22
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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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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25
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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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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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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31
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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33
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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knolls
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| n.小圆丘，小土墩( knoll的名词复数 ) | |
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yews
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| n.紫杉( yew的名词复数 ) | |
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cypress
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| n.柏树 | |
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cypresses
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| n.柏属植物，柏树( cypress的名词复数 ) | |
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38
hover
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| vi.翱翔，盘旋；徘徊；彷徨，犹豫 | |
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tarns
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| n.冰斗湖，山中小湖( tarn的名词复数 ) | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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42
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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43
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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44
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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45
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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46
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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47
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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48
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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49
interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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50
anemones
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| n.银莲花( anemone的名词复数 )；海葵 | |
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51
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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52
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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53
ablaze
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| adj.着火的，燃烧的；闪耀的，灯火辉煌的 | |
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marsh
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| n.沼泽，湿地 | |
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55
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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56
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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57
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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58
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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59
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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60
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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emblem
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| n.象征，标志；徽章 | |
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dallies
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| v.随随便便地对待( dally的第三人称单数 )；不很认真地考虑；浪费时间；调情 | |
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63
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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shackled
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| 给（某人）带上手铐或脚镣( shackle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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primmer
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| adj.循规蹈矩的( prim的比较级 )；整洁的；（人）一本正经 | |
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discordant
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| adj.不调和的 | |
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clattering
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的现在分词形式） | |
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incarnate
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| adj.化身的，人体化的，肉色的 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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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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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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79
torpor
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| n.迟钝；麻木；（动物的）冬眠 | |
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cratered
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| adj.有坑洞的，多坑的v.火山口( crater的过去分词 )；弹坑等 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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gusty
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| adj.起大风的 | |
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83
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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prophesies
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的第三人称单数 ) | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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laurels
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| n.桂冠，荣誉 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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clamorous
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| adj.吵闹的，喧哗的 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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cataract
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| n.大瀑布，奔流，洪水，白内障 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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tornado
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| n.飓风，龙卷风 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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flutes
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| 长笛( flute的名词复数 )； 细长香槟杯（形似长笛） | |
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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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eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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104
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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105
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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107
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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108
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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109
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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110
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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111
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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112
umbrage
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| n.不快；树荫 | |
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113
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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114
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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115
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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116
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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